Single Elimination: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 4)

by Laney Monday

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Copyright

  Single

  Elimination

  Brenna Battle Mystery #4

  Laney Monday

  1

  I stood at the window in the tiny living room I shared with my sister, Blythe, and took in the view of calm bay waters, bathed in pink and purple sunset glow. So far, August had been beautiful, but Fall was right around the corner. Our first Autumn in Western Washington. Were there really nine months of rain in store for us, as everyone in Arizona had warned us when they found out we were moving here? It was hard to imagine on this sunny, eighty-five degree day.

  Some Bonney Bay locals had told us September and even October could be beautiful—or not. I didn’t think I wanted to see the not.

  “You ready for tomorrow?” Blythe called from the kitchen.

  “I think so.” I picked up my phone and glanced at my notes for the upcoming week’s lessons. Tomorrow was Monday, back to the long days of running a judo day camp, then our evening classes for judo kids. Some of the same kids were in both, and while the evening classes were separated by age, the day camp was a mix of ages. It was a challenge to keep everyone safe, engaged, and progressing.

  My phone dinged with an alert. The Bonney Bay Blaster had posted an update. I eagerly tapped the screen. I’d been waiting for this.

  “Come on, Brenna. Your chicken’s going to get cold.”

  “Just a second. I’m checking the Blaster.”

  “Oh?”

  I heard Blythe toss a dish onto the counter before she hurried to my side. “Did anybody step up yet?”

  The Blaster was Bonney Bay’s only paper, though it was a paper in name only. My friend Helen Rolf, one of the town’s librarians, kept up the online news site. All of Bonney Bay was waiting for her to announce who was running for the town’s most important vacancy—mayor. I turned my phone around to face Blythe. I just waved it at her, speechless, my mouth hanging open.

  Blythe squinted at me like I was a little nuts, then gave the phone a tug.

  “Hold it still, Bren. Oh. My. Word. Does that say what I think it says?”

  “What, in the name of all that’s good and holy, is she thinking?” I wagged my phone vigorously again.

  “Well, the older boys are going back to school in a couple of weeks. I guess she feels like she has the time to do something now.”

  “Yeah, something, anything, but this. How did she get enough signatures to get on the ballot?”

  Blythe said, “Jessie Pakowski running for mayor. I realize a lot of things have happened to us since moving to Bonney Bay that I never would’ve guessed were possible—”

  “You can say that again.”

  Three murders, a supposed haunting, a couple of near escapes from jail, not to mention the scrapes with death. Yeah, I’d have to say this quiet little town had proven anything but quiet for us Battle sisters. And now Jessie Pakowski, the mother of the two most difficult kids ever to step foot in our judo dojo, was running for Mayor. Running to fill the seat vacated due to a murder and a scandal.

  Would Jessie make an honest mayor, at least? It was hard to say, considering she didn’t even believe in the truth. That was her truth anyway, as Jessie would say. I had a feeling that deep down, she really did have a sense of right and wrong. There just wasn’t any logic to it. She was flighty, scatter-brained, unwilling to discipline her own kids, who’d only lasted a few days in judo because they didn’t like the idea of rules. How would she manage to, you know, manage a town? Even a small one like Bonney Bay?

  So far, she was the only candidate. Come on, somebody else run, I thought. She couldn’t go unopposed! Maybe I should run. The thought had crossed my mind. Hey, I may not have a winning personality, but it had occurred to me that it shouldn’t take much to run unopposed. How much more would it take to beat Jessie? But I was too new to Bonney Bay, and besides, I had no time with my fledgling business to run.

  Blythe and I had moved here from Arizona for a fresh start. This judo school was my new dream, after my dream of Olympic Gold had been ripped apart, due to torn ligaments and my shredded heart. And Blythe, my business partner, needed something to invest herself in after her nasty divorce from Jerky Jake, the cheater—and my former judo coach. She’d always been my biggest supporter in pursuit of Olympic Gold, and she was my right-hand woman now. Tempting as it was to try to protect this town I’d come to love as my own, being mayor of Bonney Bay would surely mean closing the doors of Bonney Bay Battlers.

  “But this!” Blythe continued. “This takes the cake. Brenna, what if she actually wins?”

  I shuddered. Unthinkable! “Speaking of cake,” I said, “I think I we should make some. Preferably chocolate.”

  Blythe smiled. “To fortify us for the week?”

  “And to take our minds off this.” I tossed my phone onto the counter and took a seat on one of the bar stools, then dug in to my dinner. If Jessie won that election, this town was going to need more than chocolate cake to get through the next few years.

  The kids sat in a semicircle around Blythe and me, watching intently.

  “Next week is our last week of Day Camp,” I reminded them.

  There were moans and groans all around. Oh, how that warmed my heart. I was so looking forward to having more than a few minutes to breathe every day, but I was really going to miss this, too.

  “You all have learned a lot of judo this summer. You’ve learned what’s allowed and what’s not allowed—”

  Annalisa waved her hand vigorously. “No biting!”

  “Yes, Martin?” Blythe called on the older boy who sat cross-legged, a serious expression on his round face, waiting patiently to be called on.

  “No smashing your hands in people’s faces.”

  “Right,” I said, trying to get back to the point I’d set out to make. What was my point again? Oh, yeah. “And you know that your goal in judo is to throw the person and pin them. So today we’re going to learn more about judo as a sport. How a judo match works, how a referee gives you scores.”

  “Are we going to get to fight a real match? Do we get a trophy?”

  “Shh!” Katie told Anthony.

  The truth was, I hoped there would be a trophy in Anthony’s future. I wasn’t going to be handing them out in class, but there was a local tournament coming up this fall, and it was awfully tempting to try to put together a small competitive team and make the Bonney Bay Battlers’ first showing in the wider judo community.

  Competition wasn’t for everyone, but there was a lot a kid could learn from competitive judo. A lot of room for growth. I just had to figure out if any of my Battlers were the right kids for the challenge, and whether I could get them ready in time.

  “Not today. Today we’re just learning so
me more about how the sport side of judo works.”

  Five-year-old Ellie raised her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you going to the Salmon Bake on Saturday, Sensei Brenna? My Dad is making the corn on the cob!”

  The Salmon Bake was a Bonney Bay tradition, and a fundraiser for the town’s Historical Society. Since Blythe and I had only been here since Spring, this would be our first.

  “Of course, and I love corn on the cob,” I said. A whole day centered on food and the beach? Count me in!

  “Let’s get two volunteers,” Blythe said, “and then—”

  The bell on the dojo door jangled loudly, and all eyes turned to the wild-haired man standing in the doorway.

  “Harvey!”

  When I’d first met him, his glasses were so thick and heavy-looking, I was sure they dated back to another era. Now his niece was looking after him, and she’d handled a few things in desperate need of attention—like Harvey’s vision. Harvey’s new glasses still magnified his already big, blue eyes, but they were significantly lighter weight. His white hair still had a life of its own and he practically lived in the same, favorite pair of denim overalls.

  Those wide blue eyes found me right away. “Brenna! Brenna, it’s that scoundrel, Hatton!”

  At least Harvey knew my name these days. But what was he talking about? “Gunter Hatton?”

  In addition to being the owner of Bonney Bay’s historic barber shop and an artist with a pair of scissors, Gunter Hatton was the town’s most successful local artist. He worked in ceramics, but also in plaster, which was sent to a foundry to be cast in bronze. And according to long-time Bonney-Bay-ans, the two had clashed for as long as anyone could remember.

  Jill, Harvey’s neighbor, thought it started when Gunter crashed his bike into Harvey’s roses, breaking the plant at the base and nearly killing it. As Jill told it, Gunter was a bit miffed that Harvey wasn’t concerned about him almost being killed due to the branches protruding onto the sidewalk and knocking him off his bike. Not to mention the job the thorns did on his face and arms.

  “Yes, yes. Gunter Hatton.” Harvey let the door go behind him and approached the mat.

  I hurried to the edge to talk to him before he could come storming on. Behind me, Blythe picked right up where we’d left off and pulled two volunteers from the group.

  “Is he in trouble?” I asked Harvey.

  “No—I mean, I hope so! But, he’s in. In the race. Running for mayor.”

  Great. Another terrible candidate. But what could I do about that right now? “Harvey, I’m teaching.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But you have to stop him.”

  Sometimes I wondered if Harvey thought I had superpowers. What on earth did he think I could do to stop Gunter Hatton from running for mayor?

  “Are you sure he’s running?”

  “Yes, I’m sure! He just told me himself. He really rubbed it in. ‘I’m going to win,’ he says. And then we’ll see if you get your exemption.’”

  “Is this about the sidewalk?”

  “It’s about the roses. Moira’s roses. And the bricks! They want to smash them, and Gunter’s going to make sure it happens.”

  Harvey was the owner of the historic Reiner House, a beautiful old building. Bonney Bay had recently approved the replacement and widening of the sidewalks in the historic downtown area. They’d discovered that the landscaping and the brick front walk of the mansion extended past the property line, into town property. A couple of the members of the the town council were bent on having it ripped up and pushed back to make room for the wider sidewalks. To Harvey, this wasn’t just upsetting or frustrating, it was devastating. That house was practically alive to Harvey. Alive with the spirits of its former residents, that is, including Moira, who’d been dead for a hundred years.

  “Maybe that’s not what Gunter meant. I don’t know why he would try to block your exemption.” Okay, so that was kind of lame. I didn’t know why anyone would try to block it, but the fact was, people were doing just that, and Gunter, with his grudge, was leading the charge. Still, I needed Harvey to calm down.

  “Brenna, Gunter Hatton is—”

  I gave him a warning look. He glanced at the kids.

  “Not a nice man,” he finished.

  I had my own reservations about Gunter Hatton being mayor. Sure, I’d helped save his life once, and he could be a really charming guy, but let’s just say he was lacking a little in the integrity department. The prospect of him and Jessie Pakowski being our only options made me want to bull-doze the ballot box.

  But interrupting class to tell me the news I’d surely see in the Blaster within twenty-four hours was hardly necessary. That was Harvey, though. To him it was necessary. He needed to know Moira’s roses were safe now. “I’ll see what I can do about saving your property.”

  Harvey grabbed my shoulders, but stopped just short of a hug. Harvey wasn’t really a hugger, and neither was I. “Thank you, Brenna. I know he’ll listen to you. He won’t run if he knows you’re against him.”

  Poor Harvey. He thought everyone in Bonney Bay considered me a hero, just like he did. I almost spoke up. I almost corrected him. I only meant I’d look into the property line issue. I couldn’t convince Hatton not to run, even if that was what I wanted to do. And with only Mrs. Pakowski in against him so far, I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.

  Harvey left, smiling and waving, sure his problem would be solved. I was pretty sure problems were just beginning, for both of us.

  2

  Sierra Vista, Arizona, One Month Earlier

  After my own classes on Thursday night, I walked to the old, stand-alone garage behind the police station, where the Bonney Bay Police Athletic Club held their judo practices. Blythe usually came with me, but tonight she had plans for a long, relaxing bath. It was a warm evening, and the roll-up door was open about a foot to let some air in. I could hear Will counting out the warm-up exercises inside.

  The actual entrance to the dojo was a standard door. I opened it and entered the small building. In spite of the roll-up door not being shut all the way, it was pretty steamy inside. Ah, the old, familiar smell of judo—grown-up judo, anyway. Whether world-class athletes or raw beginners, it was pretty much the same. And strangely comforting to a girl like me. It might be funky, but it smelled like home, no matter how far away from home I really was.

  Will looked up and caught my eye, mid-push-up. His smile, as he blinked a drop of sweat out of his eye, lifted my heart. I should come by more often. I should spend more time with him.

  The man I loved.

  I pulled my gi on over my shorts and T-shirt and joined the circle right beside him.

  “Hey, Brenna’s here.”

  One by one, the officers and the other students got up and shook my hand. You didn’t have to be a police officer to join the PAL judo Club, but most of the small group were cops or friends of cops. I was pretty popular among these guys, ever since a near-deadly incident on the Fourth of July. Even Chief Sanders, who used to see me as just a meddler, a slightly odd woman to be humored because I was dating his best officer, genuinely respected me now. It was nice not to feel like someone who was only really good at one thing; to be respected for something other than a title, even one I’d worked so hard for.

  But that was all an accident, Brenna. It could’ve turned out different. You could be dead. Will, too. The kids hurt…

  All those crazy doubts kept creeping into my thoughts, even keeping me up at night—Who are you now, Brenna? Who are you? Why couldn’t it just be settled? Why didn’t I know? Why did it even matter? But it did. I knew it mattered, and I couldn’t change that. Reinventing yourself certainly isn’t for the weak.

  After warm-ups, we went straight into ne waza, ground fighting.

  Will gave my sleeve a tug. “Let’s go, Brenna.”

  “Ready for another beat-down?” I smirked.

  “You have a soft spot for me. You won’t beat me up too bad,” he sa
id with mock pleading. Those honest brown eyes, which had drawn me to him from the beginning, danced.

  We faced each other and bowed in.

  “Seriously, I always learn the most when I go with you,” he said.

  And Will was truly my favorite partner in this group. Sometimes less experienced men were dangerous, especially if they were big and strong—and if you were good enough to threaten their precious egos. Even nice guys who didn’t mind getting beaten “by a girl” often didn’t know how to hold back on those sudden, uncontrolled bursts of energy and strength that could injure a partner, whether they could beat them or not.

  Will had an ability to work hard and yet use technique and not brute force. Even when he couldn’t get what he was going for, he didn’t give in to that temptation. I felt safe with him. He was going to make a good black belt one day. Hopefully soon. He’d gotten his brown belt through his college judo club, and ever since he moved here a few years ago, there was no one to teach him more or promote him.

  Once I felt like he was ready, I’d have to fill out paperwork and submit it to the regional promotion board. Official Black belt ranks in judo are overseen by a governing body; they aren’t just bought and sold. There’s another, opposite, misconception in the US that blackbelts are untouchable. That’s not true either. They have to have a good breadth of knowledge, be comparable to other blackbelts in the area, and be actively contributing to judo in some way.

  Will had been teaching judo here at the PAL as a brown-belt for the past year, something that was technically a no-no. But after he moved here, he’d missed judo and at the time starting his own class here was the only practical way to keep doing what he loved on a regular basis. He’d approached me right away and asked me if I could help him get better.

  “You’re baiting me,” Will said as I faced him on the mat, offering him my sleeve.

  “Maybe.”

  “Bully.”

  “Just do it. Just do whatever you’re going to do.”

  “I’ll bet you know exactly what I’m going to do before I even do it.”