Can't Keep a Brunette Down

by Diane Bator

  "Sorry for your loss." Detective Fabio, his partner, patted her shoulder and handed her a wrapped mint. "How you doing, kid?"

  "A bit shaken."

  "That's normal. Eat the candy. You'll probably start to go into shock soon." Fabio shot Mick a glare.

  Fabio resembled a stone gargoyle much more than the hunk on the cover of a book. He was bald and had cauliflower ears, bulging eyes, and a tree-stump neck. When he walked away toward the crime scene, his limp was more pronounced than usual as he took charge inside the dojo and the changing rooms.

  In the doorway of the dojo, Gilda spied a spot of blood. Actually, two spots. One little girl had a nosebleed in class last night. Did she stand in that doorway, or had she gone through the student entrance in back? This door was for the instructors and, in an official capacity only, her. When she came to train, she used the student entrance near the changing rooms. When she needed to interrupt classes, she used the instructor entrance.

  "What the hell's going on?" Mick shouted to signal his arrival. "I was already past the woods near Ponderer's Point when you called. What's so bloody important it can't wait until after the long weekend?"

  She scurried back to the front, careful not to contaminate anything, and lunged in front of him before he entered the training hall. "You can't go in there."

  "Of course I can. It's my dojo." He scowled and swiped a stray dark curl off his forehead. "What are the cops doing here? Someone giving you problems again?"

  "I told you." When her voice cracked, she cleared her throat. "Walter's dead. The dojo is a crime scene, and you can't go inside."

  Mick flinched, and his face paled. "That's not possible. I just saw him an hour ago." He paused and stared. "Are you sure?"

  She hadn't checked for a pulse but figured, from the sword in his chest, death was a safe assumption. "Pretty sure."

  "You really need me to go inside."

  "No, you might contaminate something."

  Six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, Mick sighed then picked her up and set her aside like she was little more than a foam blocker. He stepped inside the doorway and paused in midbow.

  Walter hadn't moved. Blood seeped from around the sword and reddened his white karate uniform—his expensive, custom tailored gi. Urine and feces perfumed the air, making her gag. Bruises she hadn't noticed earlier darkened his face.

  Thayer walked toward them, arms wide. "Maybe you two should step into Mick's office while we take care of things."

  "That's probably a good idea." She touched Mick's arm, more to support her spaghetti knees than to comfort him. "Are you okay?"

  He hadn't moved either. Still standing in midbow, he cleared his throat and coughed. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. "Does anybody else know?"

  "Marion. She was the 9-1-1 operator."

  He snorted and ran a tanned hand through his hair. "Great. I hope she remembered to call the sorry excuse we have for police before she told everyone else in town. Did you touch anything?"

  "No." She swallowed hard to keep from melting down. The few bites of waffle she'd eaten earlier churned in her stomach.

  Mick turned to face her, his jaw tight. "Did you search the building?"

  "Yeah, sort of."

  "Yeah, sort of?" He gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Gilda, if someone was still in the building, you could've been killed. Don't you get that?"

  "I called the police first." She tried to back away.

  His fingers dug into her arms. "The killer could've heard you."

  She winced. Her main concern had been for Walter, not her safety. "I'm pretty sure no one else was here."

  "Pretty sure? That's not the same as a hundred percent sure, is it? Don't do that to me again. I can't afford to…" He released his grasp on her without finishing his sentence and bowed his head, running a hand through his hair. "I'll be in my office. Let me know when the cops get here."

  "You can't leave me alone with—" When his door closed, she blew out a sigh. "I guess you can. After all that, why didn't he bother taking a look around?" That thought stopped her cold. Had he fought with and murdered Walter before leaving for Detroit? It wasn't possible. A guilty man would have kept driving and never looked back. That the two of them fought seemed likely, since they always fought. Usually about the way Walter taught classes and wanted a share of the school.

  She paced the lobby while hugging her stomach. Mick seemed more worked up about her safety than Walter's. When her heart fluttered, she sucked in a deep breath. He was in shock. That's all. His reaction didn't mean anything more than that.

  Already sidetracked, she took another deep breath and followed Fabio to the back hallway. Someone had used the sink, which was speckled with water. A wet piece of paper towel, tinged with diluted blood, lay on the floor. Farther down the hall, freckles of blood decorated the white tile. She hated the starkness of the white. It was a bear to keep clean but showed blood droplets beautifully. Like morbid modern art.

  Gilda swallowed hard to keep from gagging.

  She crept past the washrooms, past the blood spots, and into the changing area. Curtains from the stalls lay on the floor, torn off the rods that dangled from the doorways. Blood splattered the walls, the floors, the benches…everything. Only a brawl could cause that much damage. Was there a fight after the lunch-hour class?

  Gilda frowned. Something else seemed out of place. Something missing that she couldn't put her finger on. She returned to her desk, grabbed her purse, and inched toward the door with hopes of escaping.

  "I hope you're not thinking of leaving just yet." Thayer leaned on her desk then made a quick phone call before his gaze met hers. "I need the names of all your instructors, staff, and students."

  "It might take a while. This computer's not much faster than an abacus." She stared at the computer screen, unable to remember any of her passwords. Her hands shook and her mouth was as dry as sunbaked earth. Shock had set in. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

  "I'll go through it and clean it off next weekend," Mick said from his office. Of course, Mick had said the same thing every two weeks for the past couple years.

  "Take your time." Thayer seemed to ignore Mick. He pulled out a notebook and flashed Gilda a smile.

  It miffed her he'd kept his quarterback body in impeccable shape, while she'd turned to chocolate chunk cookies and caramel swirl ice cream.

  "Marion said you're the one who found the body. Is that right, Gilda?" Thayer asked.

  "I found Walter. Yeah." She cleared her throat again, wishing she could curl up in a corner under a fluffy blanket and cry. "I came in to work and saw him lying there with the…" She choked back a sob.

  "Did you touch him? Maybe check him for vital signs or anything that might contaminate the body?"

  "No." She closed her eyes and turned away. "He looked pretty dead from here."

  Thayer snorted. "Are you an expert on dead bodies?"

  "Oh come on—give the lady a break." Mick emerged from his office and groaned. "She said she didn't touch anything, so cut her some slack."

  "You back off. I asked her a question."

  "I've only seen them on television." After today, Gilda vowed, she'd never watch another crime show again. Suddenly her cushy chair was more uncomfortable than ever before. "It's not exactly an experience I want to repeat."

  "Did you happen to check to see if anyone else was here before you called for help?" Thayer asked.

  "No," she said, although the thought had sort of crossed her mind. "I yelled, but no one answered or moved. Then I saw Walter and panicked."

  "You weren't worried about your own safety? Seems to me that's the first thing an innocent person would think about." Even after breaking up two years ago, he was as arrogant as she remembered, still assured she would take him back once she came to her senses. After two minutes of interrogation, she already wanted to poke him in the eye.

  "Are you implying Gilda killed Walter?" M
ick's mouth dropped open. "Are you crazy? She won't even kill a spider, and she hates spiders."

  "I work with a bunch of black belts, and the door was open when I got here. Walter normally locks it when he trains after class so no one disturbs him. Since it was open, I knew Sensei Mick had come in to grab a couple files." She shrugged. "I guessed he'd just forgotten to lock it on his way out."

  Thayer raised one eyebrow. "Mick was here?"

  "Earlier. Like Gilda said, I popped in to pick up a couple things while Walter taught class." Mick folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight. "Then I went home to pack and left for Detroit. Gilda called me when she found Walter."

  "How far away were you?" Thayer turned to Mick.

  "Just past Ponderer's Point."

  "That's not very far. What were you doing between class and packing?" Thayer grimaced.

  "I caught up on some paperwork then left to shower and grab my stuff for the drive to Detroit for the weekend," Mick said. "Anything else?"

  "As a matter of fact, yeah." Thayer puffed up like an angry rooster. "Did anybody see you?"

  "You're wasting my time. I have things to do." Mick grunted and returned to his office.

  "Don't leave town." Thayer turned his focus back on Gilda and scowled. "He really doesn't like me, does he? Did Mick or anyone else here have a grudge against Walter?"

  She hesitated. Not normally. Lately, however, things hadn't run as smoothly as usual, but there were no large issues that came to mind. Besides, Gilda Wright wasn't one to gossip. "Nothing serious. No."

  Thayer nodded, but his eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice. "If it makes it any easier, I've heard rumors from a few parents. I know there's some division between the instructors about how to run this place. There's been talk around town of a couple of them leaving to start their own schools."

  Since he already knew part of the story, technically it wasn't gossip. Was it? She bowed her head, not willing to take the chance. Mick and the other instructors were her friends. "You'll have to ask the black belts. I don't know."

  "Don't worry. I plan to do just that. First, I need that list and a chat with your Sensei Mick." Thayer acknowledged Fabio with a frown.

  "Bad news, people. The ME was in a car accident." Fabio leaned on the counter. "His office gave the okay for a local to come and look at the body. Doc Graham's on his way."

  Thayer snorted. "Doc's a local family physician, not a medical examiner."

  "I'm aware of that," Fabio said. "Would you rather wait around for an extra two or three hours until they find someone to send out from Buffalo? Didn't think so." He turned to Gilda. "Did you happen to go down the hallway at all?"

  She remembered the blood and the condition of the back room. "Um. Yeah. It looks like there was a scuffle back there."

  Thayer raised both eyebrows. "Why would you say that?"

  "Because the curtains are torn down, and there's blood everywhere," Fabio said.

  Gilda winced. "I didn't touch anything. One of our students had a nose bleed last night, so some of it may be from her. I didn't get a chance to totally clean up before I left. Mick and a couple other black belts stayed to train, so I went home." Thayer would think she was guilty for sure, the way she was babbling.

  "If the body's in the gym—"

  "The dojo." She averted her gaze.

  "The dojo." His nostrils flared. "I thought you said you hadn't searched the building. What made you check the changing room?"

  "I wanted to make sure no one else was…hurt." She paused. "There was so much blood, it looked like someone else might be bleeding too. I thought there might have been a fight or something."

  "Good guess," Fabio said. "You happen to know who those somebodies might have been?"

  She bit her lower lip. "No."

  "Who stayed to train last night?" Fabio asked.

  Mick reappeared from his office, disheveled and upset, probably after overhearing every word she'd said. He ignored Thayer and shot Fabio a hard look that said more than her stunned brain could translate. He turned and focused his bloodshot eyes on her. "Gilda, honey, I'm going out for a few minutes. The others are meeting me at the coffee shop. I need to give them the bad news."

  She assumed "the others" were the black belts.

  Thayer raised a hand and narrowed the gap between him and Mick. "That's not a good idea. We'll interview them later. For now, we need to ask you a few questions, and I want you to take a seat so I can—"

  "Café Beanz?" Gilda asked. Mick's abrupt change of plans was nothing new. She was sure he had some sort of attention disorder, and nothing short of Thayer drawing his gun and handcuffing him to the doorknob would keep Mick there. Over the past couple years, she'd tried to learn to adapt.

  "Yeah. The police won't let them in here. Stick around until they're done. Don't lock up. I can't find my keys. Thanks. Fabio, Thayer, I'll be in touch." Mick flew out the door without waiting for an answer.

  Thayer sputtered and reached for his cuffs, but Fabio waved a hand. "He'll be back."

  Gilda frowned. Of course she'd stay. She didn't have much of a life anyway. Not since two years ago when she caught Thayer in several lies, then found him in a compromising position with a young, blonde barista from Café Beanz, Mick's current destination.

  Thayer grimaced. "Is he always like that?"

  "Impatient and in a rush? Ever since I've known him," Fabio said.

  "Yeah," Gilda said. "I don't think the caffeine and sugar he lives on helps."

  "Probably not. It never has before." Fabio sighed. "Since he's gone, maybe you can tell me who stayed late to train last night."

  She focused on the computer and typed in her passwords automatically. "Mick, Walter, and Razi, another one of our black belts. Mick wants to do a black belt grading in November. Razi and Walter wanted to go for their third level."

  "We need an officer to go after him and bring him back here for questioning," Thayer said.

  "He'll be back. His car keys are on the floor under his desk." Fabio turned back to the crime scene.

  Gilda had never thought to hide Mick's keys before to get his undivided attention for ten minutes. Tying him to a chair and gagging him, maybe.

  "Is everything okay, Gilda?" Thayer almost sounded like he cared, but she knew from experience the tone was purely professional. An act for his colleagues. He must be up for a promotion.

  "I'll get you a list of all our students." She grimaced.

  Unfortunately, time didn't wound all heels. After the breakup, while Thayer had hit the gym and thrived socially, Gilda became withdrawn and hid behind her job, her garden, and reading mystery novels while eating chocolate chunk ice cream. Starting to work for Mick was the catalyst to bringing her out of her shell. She wished she could crawl back into that shell now.

  "Both your students and all the instructors." He leaned on the counter and peered down on her. "You don't have to work in a place like this. There are jobs elsewhere, you know."

  "Jealous as always. You still hate me being around all the testosterone and chiseled jaws." Gilda nearly burst out laughing. Aside from Mick and Razi Mauli, no one even came close to that description. "I happen to like working here. If it wasn't for me, everyone would kill each other, and this place would fall apart." She stopped and covered her mouth with both hands. "I didn't mean it like that."

  He appeared amused. "First, I'm going to check on the others, and then you and I will sit down to discuss what you just said. I think you know a lot more than you're letting on. Maybe you're even the one who killed Walter. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't put it past you to stab a man in the heart."

  "Nope." Her face and temper were on the verge of bursting into flame. "I'd just throw him into a fifty-pound bag of coffee beans and leave him lying half naked on the floor with a cheap floozy and a mild concussion."

  Thayer reddened. "I told you. That was all a misunderstanding. You overreacted and embarrassed me in front of the whole town."

  "Whatever you say.
Your girlfriend was the one who talked to the newspapers, not me."

  When he stormed away, Gilda tried to focus. On the student list, there were almost a hundred names, including hers. Her gut told her the perpetrator was on the short list. There were five names on the black belt list: Sensei Mick, Walter Levy, Xavier Wyndham, Razi Mauli, and Erik Cadell. She shuddered as she contemplated drawing a line through Walter's name, just to save the police—in this case Thayer and Fabio—the trouble. In the end, she couldn't bring herself to do so.

  She drew in a deep, bracing breath, and with her hands shaking, she took a copy of both lists to Thayer. "Do you need anything else? Coffee? Tea? An attitude adjustment?"

  "Yeah. What time do you normally start work?"

  "Eleven thirty. We have classes at noon every day. I missed class today because I had brunch with Marion, then a doctor's appointment that ran late. I called to say I would be here by one, then grabbed a tea at Café Beanz before I came in, which is still probably sitting outside the front door because I forgot about it when I realized the door was unlocked."

  "Fascinating." Thayer ran a hand through his hair. "Who answered the phone?"

  "No one. Class had already started, so I left a message. Sensei Mick checks the machine all the time anyway." Great. Now she'd made Mick look guilty just for listening to her phone message. "I mean, I don't know who actually heard it."

  Anyone who was in the school, within ten feet of the phone, who was looking for an opportunity, and had a motive.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hours later, Gilda rambled around the front lobby, gnawing on her fingernails. No one nail in particular; they were all fair game. The police were gone, their evidence and half the school bagged and tagged.

  Who would want Walter dead? Such a quiet, middle-aged, unassuming man. Sure, he'd made his share of mistakes. Everyone had, but what could he have done that was so bad someone would kill him?

  Marion had called several times during her shift to make sure Gilda was okay and offered to bring dinner, but nothing she mentioned sounded remotely edible. Gilda's stomach still struggled to digest the weak tea with sugar Fabio got one of the younger officers to bring her.