A Darling of Death

by Gin Jones

  "The experts don't think so," Almeida said. "And the odds are against it. Most drowning victims are infants or toddlers, although the risk increases again in the elderly. It usually happens in open water, not in a bathtub or shower, although there's the occasional freak accident in unlikely places and in just a couple of inches. In those freak cases, there are usually other contributing factors, though, like alcohol or a heart attack. We won't know for sure about what led to Danica's death until the autopsy, but so far, everyone's inclined to think there was a struggle, especially with the gash on her forehead, and then someone held her face in the water."

  "Does everyone working on the case know she was a martial arts fighter? She'd been grappling with both Kolya and a regular sparring partner shortly before she went into the locker room. If there are any bruises besides the bloody cut, she could have gotten them during her workout."

  "They know. But there was that gash on her head and a few other bruises that weren't consistent with landing on a mat," Almeida said. "They told me it was like she'd had a Sambo match right there in the shower, on the hard tile, without any padding. That's why I need Kolya's help. I'm trying to get his member list and some idea of who was good enough to have outmatched her. I'm told she was a highly ranked competitor, so her killer has to be someone at least as skilled as she was."

  "Or someone who just got lucky," Helen said. "Perhaps took her by surprise."

  "Perhaps," Almeida conceded. "But I don't have unlimited resources to look into everyone in the world. The odds are it's someone who's a member of the studio and at least as well trained as she was."

  Helen glanced over at where Kolya had apparently decided regular push-ups were too easy, so he was doing them one-handed, alternating arms every fifth repetition.

  Kolya could have taken Danica down without much difficulty. Helen had seen it happen during their sparring session. What she hadn't seen was anyone else equally capable of overpowering Danica. Her regular partner hadn't been able to do it, despite being male, with all the physical advantages of testosterone on muscle development and upper body strength.

  "You don't think Kolya killed her, do you?" Helen said. "He's not a violent person."

  "Contrary to what everyone seems to believe, I don't want to suspect him." Almeida leaned against the back of her SUV and watched Kolya thoughtfully as he did another set of one-handed push-ups. "But you've got to admit, he's definitely got the physical strength to kill someone. And he's not doing himself any favors, being all quiet and broody."

  "Don't take it personally," Helen said. "He's like that with everyone. He can be funny too, but it took me a while to realize it."

  "There are just too many unanswered questions about him, so I've got to get some answers before I can clear him." Almeida pushed away from the back of the SUV. "Among other things, I'm told he disappears for a solid week every once in a while, and no one knows where he goes or what he's doing then."

  Helen had once thought it was suspicious too, but she hadn't had any real reason to delve into it until now. She'd been amused by Betty's and Josie's theory of a secret love affair and hated to have to debunk it, but her amusement wasn't as important as keeping Kolya from being a suspect in Danica's death. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation."

  "I really hope so," Almeida said. "I'd been planning to take some classes here, and I won't be able to if the owner's in prison."

  * * *

  Almeida went over to interrupt Kolya's workout and resume questioning him, which was probably a waste of time. No matter how open-minded Helen tried to be about possible suspects, she just couldn't picture Kolya killing anyone, except perhaps in self-defense, and then he'd have gone straight to the police to tell them what had happened. Kolya was far too sensible and level-headed to have panicked and run away or tried to cover it up.

  Still, she could understand that Almeida needed more than a gut feeling to rule him out, especially since this was her first big case as the lead investigator. The owner of the martial arts studio where the victim had died was an obvious suspect, and until an arrest was made, there would most likely be rumors about his involvement in Danica's death. That wouldn't be good for his brand new business, even if he was never charged with anything.

  Helen couldn't do anything to help him right now, so she headed toward Mia's group of Tai Chi practitioners. They'd completed their session and were milling around, presumably waiting for instructions from the police about when they could go back inside and resume their original workouts.

  As she approached, she overheard the uniformed officer announce that the studio would be closed for the remainder of the day, and everyone should leave the premises after providing him with their contact information. A forensics team member would escort them to the locker rooms one at a time to retrieve their keys, phones, and other necessary items.

  There were some grumbled complaints about missing a day's workout so close to next week's tournament, but everyone lined up with a minimum of jostling to speak to the officer in preparation for leaving. Everyone except Mia, who crossed her arms over her chest and glared in the direction of Detective Almeida. The Tai Chi instructor's feet were planted firmly, broadcasting that she was clearly not going to leave unless forcibly removed. At least, Helen thought, not as long as Kolya was still here.

  She wondered if Kolya had even noticed Mia's show of defiance. He seemed to be narrowly focused on Almeida and her questions, taking time to consider them carefully before providing polite but brief answers: yes, no, or maybe. Occasionally, he was willing to use three words: Do not know.

  Mia caught sight of Helen and stopped glaring at Kolya's interrogator. She uncrossed her arms and offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry. I would have called you to explain, but she—" Mia jerked her thumb in the direction of the detective "—wouldn't even let me grab my phone before we were hustled out into the parking lot, so I couldn't warn you not to come."

  "That's okay. I needed to get out of the house anyway," Helen said. "What happened?"

  "The police showed up a few minutes after you called and rounded us all up like we were criminals or something."

  "They're just doing their jobs."

  "I know." Mia took a calming breath. "It's just so ridiculous. They obviously think Kolya had something to do with Danica's death just because he's big and tough and foreign. They don't know him like I do. There's no way he'd hurt anyone."

  "I'm sure you're right," Helen said. "Kolya isn't a killer. But don't worry. Detective Almeida is good at her job. She'll get to the bottom of it."

  "She'd better," Mia said with another glare at Almeida.

  Helen could only imagine how Mia would have felt if Detective Peterson had been assigned to the case. She'd probably have gotten herself arrested the first time he condescended her. She might yet end up in jail if she didn't dial back her anger at Almeida.

  That wouldn't be good for anyone. Almeida didn't need any unnecessary complications during her first chance to show what she could do as a lead detective. Plus, Helen had a feeling that if there were any problems whatsoever, especially one as major as a witness physically attacking the detective, Peterson would pounce on it as an excuse to assert control of the investigation. Then the situation might really turn out badly for Kolya.

  "You might be able to help the investigators clear him," Helen said. "You knew Danica from her visits here, I assume, so you could give the police the names of some people who might have wanted her dead."

  "It's a pretty long list," Mia said uncertainly.

  "You can think about it while you give me my next lesson in Tai Chi."

  "Now?" Mia said. "Here? In the parking lot? In this heat?"

  "Why not? The others did it."

  Helen could see Mia desperately searching for a polite way to say, but they are physically fit and used to strenuous workouts in the non-air-conditioned studio and you're…not.

  She finally came up with, "But you don't have your workout clothes on."

 
"And I'm out of shape and unused to the hot weather," Helen said matter-of-factly. "I know. But I care about Kolya too, and I want to stick around as much as you do in case the police find anything worrisome during their search. If I'm going to be standing out here in the heat, I might as well get my lesson. And, as my teacher, you'll have an excuse to stay too."

  "They do say that when a door is closed, a window will open." This time Mia's smile was genuine and broad. "I can teach Tai Chi all day long if that's what it takes to stay and keep an eye on the police. But we need to get out of the direct sun. There's some shade over on the side near the loading docks this time of day. Some of our members bring their lunch and eat out there in nice weather."

  Mia led the way to where the bulk of the building threw shade across a significant patch of asphalt on the side of the building. A picnic table sat in front of each of the no-longer-used loading dock doors, but Mia stopped as soon as she reached the corner. "Uh-oh. When the cops rushed us out of the building, I forgot I'd opened that earlier to get some cross-ventilation." She pointed at the far door, which had been raised about a foot. "Maybe we'd better not get anywhere near it or the cops will think we're up to no good."

  Mia steered Helen back a few steps and then over to where the original landscaping that served to soften the view of the functional metal building from an otherwise largely residential area had gone wild. The trees there continued to block the parking lot from casual view from the road and offered a bit of shade, without taking Helen and Mia out of sight of the police.

  Once there, Mia began the lesson with some breathing exercises before going through the Tai Chi forms. Helen thought she was getting the hang of it, only to get stuck at the same spot three times in a row. Mia insisted that was normal for a beginner and declared it to be time to take a break.

  Detective Almeida was still grilling Kolya, although she seemed to be more worn out than he did. Helen had hoped the interrogation would be over by the time her lesson wrapped up, so everyone except the forensics team could go home. That didn't seem to be happening, so she called Jack to see if he had moved his fully-stocked beverages cooler into the rental vehicle. Of course he had and was insulted that she'd doubted him.

  While they waited for him to bring them some bottled water, Helen asked, "So who do you think the police should be questioning about Danica's death?"

  "There are so many possibilities, I don't know where to start. I do try to see the best in people, but Danica made it difficult." Mia glared at Detective Almeida, as if thinking the worst of her too. "If I had to pick just one group of possible suspects, I guess I'd start with her ex-boyfriends. Talking to them would keep the police busy for a while."

  "She wasn't exactly monogamous?"

  Mia snorted. "Not even close. Money can't buy you love, but she sure kept trying. And the break-ups were generally spectacular."

  "Violent?"

  "Not physically, as far as I know. Lots of shouting, though."

  Danica hadn't died from a raised voice alone. "Anyone other than ex-boyfriends that the police ought to know about?"

  Mia stared at Almeida again, although it seemed less hostile and more contemplative. "Maybe her sparring partner, Ronny West. It's hard to imagine him doing anything more than whining about her, but I suppose you never really know what someone's capable of. He never liked her much, but they were pretty evenly matched, so he put up with her terrible personality in order to get the best possible workout. She'd been getting worse, though, and his whining never seemed to end."

  "Could she have done something to push him past his breaking point?"

  "Definitely. You probably heard him complaining yesterday that she'd messed up his shoulder. He wouldn't stop talking about it. And it wasn't the first time she'd injured him. She did the same thing about a week ago. Same shoulder, even. I was there. So was Kolya, which was fortunate, because he had to step in and keep her from doing any more damage. He's the only one who could ever control her. And even he couldn't make her behave for long. She was good for a few days, but then went after Ronny's shoulder again yesterday."

  "Are you sure it was intentional?" Helen said. "Athletes get injured all the time. I would think it's especially likely in martial arts."

  "Not if it's done right," Mia said. "Oh, sure, there'll be some bruises from falls, but we teach the participants how to roll so there shouldn't be serious damage. It only works if the competitors are playing fair, though. That's the problem. Danica didn't particularly care for the rules and didn't care what happened to anyone else as long as she won. She was like that with the ex-boyfriends too. She didn't care what pain she inflicted when she dumped them, as long as she herself was happy. Usually with a new guy."

  "I can see why Ronny might have wanted to get Danica banned from the studio or from competition for not playing by the rules. But was he angry enough to kill her?"

  "I'm not saying I really think he did it," Mia said. "It's just that I talked to him that morning after their session, and he was pretty angry and frustrated. He was convinced that what Danica did to his shoulder was going to keep him out of next week's tournament. It's a big one, too. It only happens once a year, and he narrowly missed the finals last year, so he's been working hard toward this event for a whole year now."

  That did sound like a motive to Helen, but she wondered about Ronny's ability to commit the murder. He hadn't been able to pin Danica during their workout before he'd been injured, so how could he have done it later, when his shoulder was so damaged he didn't think he could participate in next week's competition?

  Fortunately, it wasn't Helen's problem. "You should let Detective Almeida know about Ronny and the ex-boyfriends. I'm sure she'll check them out thoroughly."

  Mia glanced at Kolya and Almeida before saying, "I was kind of hoping you'd do it. I heard you'd figured out the real killer in other cases before when the police were set on blaming the wrong person."

  "That was a different detective," Helen said. "This one knows what she's doing. Give her a chance to do her job."

  "Okay." Mia sounded skeptical, but then she perked up, saying, "Everything does happen for a reason, after all, and I'm sure things will work out in the end."

  Helen had never believed in passively accepting the bad things in life, but fortunately Jack arrived just then with their water bottles, saving her from having to respond. Otherwise, she might have said something that got Mia all wound up again, and who knew what trouble the young woman might get into by trying to protect her boss from a wrongful arrest?

  Helen knew better than most just how dangerous it could be to tangle with a killer desperate to keep his identity secret. Which was why she was going to concentrate on the mystery of the nursing home director's secret meetings and leave the murder investigation to Almeida.

  Right after lunch with Tate, she was going to track Martha Waddell down, even if it meant infiltrating the Wharton B&B where the secret meetings were taking place. Of course, as long as she was there, it wouldn't hurt to see whether the owner had ever experienced any homicidal rage toward his only real competition in town, Danica Darling.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Helen had about half an hour before lunchtime, which wasn't enough time to look for Martha Waddell, but was perfect for a quick visit to her plot in the Wharton Community Garden. The growing season was at its peak, with tomatoes and peppers and squash all coming into their own. A few beds held a mix of edible and purely decorative flowers, but most were dedicated to vegetables, some of which Helen couldn't name and had never seen in any grocery store.

  Jack surprised her by retrieving her basket of gloves and gardening tools from the back of the rental car. He'd apparently packed them at the same time as he'd moved the beverage cooler into it.

  She carried the basket down to her plot, which looked pretty sad in comparison to the lush, overflowing beds of the more experienced gardeners. She'd missed the bulk of the season while she was in Boston—one more reason for her to feel she'd wasted all
that time away from home, getting poked and prodded and experimented on without getting any real answers—but other members of the community garden had kindly kept her few plants weeded and watered. The pea seedlings that a fellow gardener had given her had all succumbed to various attacks, but her cherry tomatoes and yellow squash plants were producing abundantly.

  Helen noticed a few new weeds and bent to pull them. With her hand about six inches away from the closest weed, her troublesome hip locked in place, and she had to straighten up again. Her current treatment regimen was working reasonably well, but there was some residual inflammation, so she still didn't have her full range of motion back. The Tai Chi hadn't produced any noticeable results either, she thought irritably, even though the part of her brain unaffected by her bad mood reminded her that it was far too soon to expect any health benefits from the gentle exercise.

  She was debating whether it was safe to get down on her knees to pull the weeds or if she'd be unable to stand up again if she did that, when she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up to see Tate coming down the slight embankment that separated the sidewalk from the basin-shaped garden area.

  She knew Tate hated being outside in the hot weather. His studio was shaded by the trees in her secluded lot, so it was naturally cool most of the time, but a previous heat wave in June, before she had left for Boston, had had him muttering about how he should have chosen a place that had air conditioning. He'd soldiered on, since nothing got between him and his lathe, but during the summer he generally went straight from his work to his air-conditioned car to his air-conditioned home without any optional stops in between.

  "What's wrong?" Helen glanced toward the busy street, searching for her loaner car. Jack had an uncanny knack for anticipating the exact moment when she'd be ready for pickup, but she supposed even he wouldn't have been able to predict whatever emergency had brought Tate out in the heat and humidity.