Igor gave me a quizzical look. “Not really. If I have a question about a case, I drop by. Do you know some of the officers?”
“No. Just curious. I think it’s great that an experienced man like you is teaching this class.” I sat down to fill out the papers. Sam had applied to SAPD about the time Koslov had left. I was safe.
Eight women dribbled in, including Brandy Crystal, in short shorts and a sleeveless top over an actual bra. I wasn’t surprised to see her here. Her hair lay on her head, unspiked, and she wasn’t wearing makeup—a definite improvement. She saw me, grunted and dismissively waved a few fingers.
Once we’d given our names and addresses, swore we were not incapacitated, were capable of physical exertion and would not sue the club, Koslov cleared his throat and gathered us around him in a large circle.
“Let’s talk about targets you aim for when someone attacks you. Combining the first letter of each target spells N-E-E-T-T, letters to help you remember where to attack.” He gestured to class member Winifred to help him demonstrate. Winifred looked like she was tough enough to fight anybody.
“Nose: hit it straight up with your palm up.” When Koslov’s beefy palm stopped just short of breaking Winifred’s nose, she started to blink and her eyes watered.
Koslov chose Sasha, a lanky brunette in stretch leggings, for the next demonstration, and put his hands about six inches from both sides of her head.
“Ears: Pop his ears from the sides with open palms. You can break his eardrums.” Igor grinned. With her long arms, Sasha had enough leverage and power to deafen six-foot-tall Igor. At five foot four, I’d have to stand on tiptoes to reach his ears.
He beckoned a diminutive blonde, Annie, who was shorter than me.
“Eyes,” he told Annie. “Stick your fingers right in them.” She had to reach up, but with pointed nails and her arm straightened military style, her thrust could cause damage. Igor beckoned me over.
“I’m Aggie.”
He sized me up. “Throat: Hold your hand like you’re grasping a large cup. Stiffen your hand and whack my throat as hard as you can with the yolk of your hand.”
I practiced a couple of times.
“Stiffen your arm,” he said. “Hit harder.”
After my third pretend whack, I was getting into it. A person could learn to enjoy this.
He chose Brandy for the next demo. He had her raise her arms and hold her fists outside his temples while he tried not to look at her chest.
“Temple: With the bottom of your fists, smash my temples hard.” Brandy performed like a natural. “Remember, when an assailant approaches you, think N-E-E-T-T—nose, ears, eyes, throat, temple—and go for the closest targets. Scream while you’re doing it. If you’re close enough, stomp his foot. If he has piercings in his nose or ears, yank them out.”
Could I do that? If the assailant started bleeding, I’d faint, and he’d kill me.
“If you can get in position, kick hard and push through his knee. That will stop anybody. As soon as he lets go of you, run.”
I could do that.
Igor got the others involved and had us mimic attacks with different partners. Paired with Brandy, I enjoyed considering which move to try and actually wished I could deck her. Jealousy was a terrible thing.
“When you’re walking to your car, day or night,” he said, “hold your keys with one or two keys sticking through your fingers, sharp ends pointed out. If somebody accosts you, aim for their eyes and scratch them with the keys. Be aware of your surroundings. Carry a small flashlight in your purse. With your keys positioned in your hand, shine the light around before you get close to your car, Assailants look for somebody who’s not paying attention.”
I felt stupid for having been so vulnerable.
“Suppose an assailant grabs you from behind and traps your arms. Throw your head back as hard as you can to hit his face. If he doesn’t let go, bite his arm. When your arms are free, go for a target. Stomp his foot. Knee him in the groin. Never quit fighting. As soon he steps back, take off screaming.
“If he grabs around you from the front, head-butt his nose or chin or push both arms up fast to break his hold. When he lets go, pop his eardrums with your palms and run screaming.
“Remember, if he chokes you from the front, don’t grab his hands. He’ll choke you harder until you pass out. If he chokes you from behind, claw at his hands or pop your arms up to break the hold and run screaming. If somebody slings his arm around your neck and traps you in a headlock, turn your head and bite his arm.”
Practicing took a while. When we finished, we had moist faces and straggly hair. Igor could tell we were fading.
“So,” he concluded, “you are equipped with a lot of weapons: your forehead, teeth, elbows, palms and fingers, yolk of your hand, outside edge of your fist, feet, legs and knees. Don’t ever hit an assailant with your closed fist thrust forward. You’ll break your hand. Use your hands the way I taught you.”
We’d absorbed all Igor could teach us. I felt more confident but knew I’d have to practice the moves many times to be able to use them.
When I walked out of the gym, Brandy walked through the door at the same moment.
“So,” I said, “did you enjoy meeting Detective Vanderhoven?”
She sliced her eyes at me, then looked straight ahead. “Not really.”
“You couldn’t help him learn who or what killed Dr. Carmody? The medical examiner says he didn’t die of a stroke or heart attack.”
She raised her eyebrows, then squinted her eyes into slits and clamped her jaw. “Well. That’s comforting to know, now isn’t it?” She stormed around me and charged full steam to her car.
It’s funny how life offers up tiny nuggets. I’d learned a lot more than self-defense. I’d learned Brandy didn’t like Sam, probably because she couldn’t seduce him. She knew that Carmody didn’t die from obvious causes. Even better, she knew that I knew. Of course, she could have known already. If she killed him.
Twenty-Six
I woke up Saturday morning with stiff legs from Thursday’s treadmill workout and sore arms from mimicking poking people in the eyes, popping eardrums and breaking noses. Despite being grumpy and in pain, this was the ideal day to break into the lab. Even if students worked there Saturday, and I doubted there were many, the lab would shut down around dusk. I could sneak in after dark.
Carmody’s killer was making my life miserable. Whatever was in that lab was what I’d worked for, written about and suffered for at the gym. If I didn’t discover what Carmody discovered about aging, I’d be without hope and grow old fast. I might as well tell Sam the truth and forget about being loved. He thought I was grumpy and irrational anyway from the blow to my head. I should probably just keep my distance from him.
If I went back to the lab, he’d be furious, and if the killer was there, I might not make it out. Maybe it was better that my relationship with Sam had stalled.
Back in Chicago, I honestly thought I loved Lester. But when he found out I was pregnant and dropped me like a hot poker, I knew what a sap I’d been. I couldn’t bring myself to abort the baby. It was innocent, and it was mine. But I couldn’t keep it either. I couldn’t earn enough to support us. We’d be on welfare.
Katy and Sam Vanderhoven didn’t think they could have children and had decided to adopt. I knew they couldn’t resist the offer of a child. They were desperate for a baby. Here was one they could have. Sam was never to know how the unexpected blessing came about. I made Katy promise never to tell him.
While I transferred to a branch bank to take a leave of absence, Katy’s doctor delivered my baby, and Katy’s lawyer legalized her adoption. By the time I returned to the main bank in Chicago, Sam and Katy Vanderhoven had adopted my baby girl and named her Lee.
I watched Katy and Sam delight in raising her. Un
til the horrible night when she and Katy were killed in that tragic auto accident.
Sam and I grieved separately. For the second time, I grieved over losing my child.
Sam and I didn’t communicate after their funeral. Our shared memories were too painful. After a year, he called me to report he couldn’t bear Chicago any longer and was moving to Texas for the warm weather.
When a large bank bought my smaller one, my bank stock made me unexpectedly prosperous. After six months of contemplating options, I moved to Texas. I’d always loved Sam. This was my last chance to see if he could love me.
I scrambled three eggs to ingest enough protein. At least my head didn’t hurt and the lump was gone. The doctor had said to protect my head. Should I wear a hard hat—maybe a riding hat—in case I got whacked again? Riding helmets probably cost a fortune.
Gibson’s Costume Shop probably had some, but they wouldn’t be real. Meredith had jumped horses in competition; she probably owned an equestrian helmet. I dialed her number.
“Hey. What are you doing this morning?” I asked.
“Nothing much, just cleaning up. I have to shop for groceries. How’s your head?”
“Much better. I’m just lollygagging around. Do you think I should wear a hard hat, like your riding hat, just in case?”
“My equestrian hat? In case of what? Why would you do that, unless you’re going to do some kind of calisthenics? You’re not going to do that, are you? Are you all right, Aggie?”
“I’m fine. I’m not doing anything physical. Really. I just thought…never mind. It was a dumb idea. I’ll hang around the house and read.”
“You’re sure? If you’ve having symptoms, we should call the doctor.”
“No, no. It was a silly thought. Really. I’m fine. My head doesn’t even hurt. And the lump is almost gone.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I’m good. You know me and my harebrained ideas. Have a great day, okay?”
“All right, then. You too.”
She sounded hesitant. I probably shouldn’t have called her.
Twenty-Seven
I considered the details of breaking into the lab. I’d have to go at night, hope my dental implement could open the locked science building and lab, and that nobody was working there or lurking around. I’d look for evidence of Dr. Carmody’s research and some clue to who killed him. But I’d have to search without knowing exactly what I hoped to find. I absolutely couldn’t get caught.
What if the killer was there?
I had to make a choice. I could live miserably in hopes Sam suddenly decided he couldn’t function without me. Or I could take matters into my own hands and help solve this crime. I was in a unique position to find clues, I wanted justice for Dr. Carmody, and I’d never been one to wait around. I’d go for it.
Standing before the full-length mirror in my bedroom, I worked on looking determined and tough. Repeating N-E-E-T-T, I thrust fingers at my eyes in the mirror, popped my image’s eardrums, shoved the heel of my hand at her nose, cupped my hand and aimed for her throat. Balling my fists, I whacked her temples from the side. Hard.
I prayed the attacker didn’t have any piercings I’d have to yank out.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I didn’t think I looked very formidable.
Was it worth risking my life to help solve Carmody’s murder? Probably not. But if I combined that with saving my own future…
I fiddled around all day resting, worrying, planning, reading and eating peanut butter. What should I wear? What should I take besides the dental pick?
After trying on every black outfit I owned, I settled on a cotton t-shirt with long sleeves, the lightest-weight black pants I possessed (so I wouldn’t suffocate from the heat) and a black Jimmy cap to stuff my hair under. I arranged the hat with the sore spot located at the back vent, which would be perfect if I didn’t get whacked on the head again. When I touched the spot, it felt nearly normal.
I was perfectly clad and unrecognizable, a poster for breaking and entering. I had the bright idea to rub dark makeup on my face, neck and wrists to further disguise myself. My hands needed to be free; they were weapons. I found a pair of thin black gloves.
Next, I concentrated on what to carry in my pants pockets: dental pick and a nail file (in case the implement didn’t work.) If I determined I shouldn’t turn on the lab lights, I’d need a small flashlight.
Changing into shorts and a tank top, I raced to Sunset Ridge Home and Hardware to purchase a high-intensity, small beam flashlight and found another necessary item: a package of thin, surgical-weight cleaning gloves. I could not afford to leave fingerprints.
I drove home and paced in front of the TV. Shopping had used up a little time. I was too antsy to read. If I ate any more, I’d be sick. Darkness wouldn’t descend until almost nine p.m.
Obsessed with my breaking-and-entering plans, I hadn’t even thought about the mail. There was a pile growing by the front door. I swooped it up, thumbed through and found a letter to Dear Aggie with a postmark several days old. The reader might think Aggie absconded with the mail man. What if she knew she’d written to somebody about to commit a break-in? I opened it.
Dear Aggie,
I used to be optimistic—fearless—always looking toward the future. I realized I’ll be fifty in February and should probably start acting like it. It’s kind of unseemly for a matron to eagerly gallivant through life, don’t you think? Being proper and staid isn’t much fun though. In fact, it’s getting depressing.
Aging and Ambivalent in Akron,
Ariel
Dear Ariel,
Don’t be ambivalent. Enjoy life. You might have half a lifetime yet to go. Why shouldn’t you enjoy it? Figure out what you’ve always wanted to do, then set yourself on a path to do it. We humans are weird. We’re always figuring out how we should be, then we plod along trying to act like that. That’s a recipe guaranteed to bore others. Not to mention yourself. You’re as old as you believe you are. You’re as young as your curiosity, your dreams, and your determination.
Ever Expectant,
Aggie
Twenty-Eight
Activated by Ariel in Akron, I started getting dressed at eight p.m. I put on the black garb first, then arranged my hair under the hat. I spread the utensils among my pockets so they weren’t lumpy.
I traipsed to my bedroom bookshelf and picked up An In-Depth History of the World. The tome looked like it had at least a thousand pages, so nobody ever picked it up. Actually, it was a hollow hiding place for the bracelet they’d put on my baby’s arm in the hospital. It had become my good luck charm; I took it with me to face momentous events. I had to cut and re-tape the bracelet to fit it around my wrist.
I put on black socks and dark tennis shoes, and hoped my feet would stop itching. I’d have to keep my car keys in a pocket during the break-in. I wrapped them in tissue so they wouldn’t jingle.
In the garage, I saw heavy-duty twine I’d bought for another project and decided to take it in case I had to tie somebody up. After locking my driver’s license, money and credit card in the glove compartment, I started Albatross and drove to the university.
By a little past eight thirty on Saturday night, most students would have left. The school should be deserted and quiet.
I eased onto the campus through a side entrance, seeing few cars and people. It was nearly dark. One parking lot contained a few cars. Lovers smooched inside one of them. The girl reminded me of Brandy. Was she with the same scientist or a different one? Why didn’t they just go up to her plush apartment? Maybe it wasn’t her. I had Brandy on the brain.
Lights from the library glowed in the distance, and a few trees were lighted. The clock tower cast an eerie glow over the sleeping campus.
I crept toward the science building. Slowing near t
he rear entrance, I prayed my dental pick would unlock the door. I parked half a block from the building, cut the motor and pulled on the black gloves.
When I opened the car door, I started to hyperventilate. I closed the door and sat still to gain control. Taking deep breaths, I told myself again why I was there and what would occur if I didn’t follow through with my mission. After mentally practicing N-E-E-T-T, I patted my pockets to take inventory. This time I scanned the area before emerging from the car. No one was around.
Holding my keys with sharp ends pointed out, I tiptoed through shadows toward the back of the building. A light shone above the door, but it was dark to either side. Positioning my body so that only my black glove and arm were under the light, I pushed the dental pick into the lock and twisted. I heard a click, pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside.
Twenty-Nine
I had to orient myself to the dark interior of the building and find the lab. I was on the main floor with the laboratory. Unless a hallway branched off, if I continued straight down the hall, the doors to both the small storage room and lab should be on my left. I inched along with one finger touching the wall at intervals to make sure I stayed on track.
I’d taken only about ten steps when I heard a noise and froze. Flattening myself against the wall, I waited, my breath coming in short jerks. Someone was opening the door at the front of the building, the main entrance. I heard them click the lock and saw them shine a light inside and enter. The intruder eased the heavy door closed and came toward me down the hall. A flashlight beam danced eight feet in front of the hulk. Another fifty feet and he couldn’t help but see me.
Smart, But Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 3) Page 10
