Can't Keep a Brunette Down

by Diane Bator

  "Geez, Gilda, you okay?" He lunged to pull the bar off. "Keep this up, and you're going to take yourself out."

  When Mick started to lay the curtain and rod on the floor next to the tub, she grabbed the fabric for cover. Her face grew hot, and a rush of pain pulsed through her head. "I'm fine, thanks. Could you please get out of my bathroom?"

  "You know, I thought it was a fluke when Walter got killed. Now Erik's dead too, and it occurred to me I could be next." He studied her over the fallen curtain. "I really need your help."

  She shifted the wet curtain to cover her body and sat up. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and make tea so I can get dressed? Then we can talk."

  "Promise?"

  "Only if you promise not to burn down my kitchen."

  "Okay." Mick stood and moaned. "I guess I should see if I can stand your door back up. I seriously did knock it flat to the floor, so you may have to get someone to fix it tomorrow."

  Except for the throbbing pain in her head, she was sure this all had to be a bad dream. Was it possible she was still unconscious in the karate school and had never found Erik's body? Wishful thinking.

  Gilda sighed. There was no way fixing her front door could wait until morning. "Can you at least pass me my towel? Please?"

  He suddenly seemed to realize she was naked and paused to take in the sight of her beneath the shower curtain. The energy coming off his body could have reheated every drop of water in the bathtub. "You look good wrapped in plastic. Kind of like a microwave dinner."

  He grinned then tossed her the towel and left the room.

  Left Gilda to pull the plug and absorb their conversation while she dressed and threw the shower curtain and rod in the tub. For someone who rarely ever drank, Mick had arrived at her house plastered twice now and smelled potent enough for two this time. Once again, the safest person to call was Razi.

  She peered out the bathroom door and was met by silence. Mick had passed out on the couch. The front door, as he said, was lying on the floor. She picked up the phone.

  Razi appeared on the front step ten minutes later. "Shall I take Sensei Mick home?"

  Gilda almost said yes then shook her head. "Leave him to sleep it off on my couch. Apparently, he doesn't have a home to go to right now anyway, and he's relatively safe here. I was hoping you could give me a hand to fix my front door though."

  He gave a small bow. "Of course. Do you have a hammer and a screwdriver? I can do a temporary fix, enough to keep skunks out. I recommend you call a repair man."

  "Thanks, but I'm sure Mick's snoring will keep the bad guys away for tonight."

  Razi's eyebrows squished together. "Which bad guys? The killer, or the other ones who are after him?"

  She dropped into the lumpy wicker chair. "What other ones?"

  He turned away, his face red. "My mistake."

  "No mistake. What other guys? Who's after him?"

  "Sensei Mick likes to make money, but he also likes to…" He paused. "What are the words he used? Bet on the ponies. He introduced me to his friend Gary at the sports bar."

  Her stomach ached. Gary again. "Sensei Mick gambles?"

  Razi shifted his weight and leaned on the flaking wooden railing. "Only occasionally. He lost a horse race and owes fifty thousand dollars."

  "Fifty thousand?" Her jaw dropped. No wonder Gary was stalking Mick.

  "Now he is worried they will break his legs." He fidgeted with a set of keys. "What is worse is that he is Chloe's father, and I believe Sensei Mick called him a grandfather."

  "Chloe's pregnant?" she asked.

  "No." He shook his head. "Gary is a gangster."

  "Oh, you mean a godfather." The weight of the words struck her, and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh crap, Mick. What have you gotten us all into?"

  "Please, do not tell him I told you. We already have enough problems in the school."

  Gilda frowned. "Erik was murdered."

  "I am aware." Razi nodded. "Sensei Mick called me when you left the school. When I said I saw you leave Happy Harvey's Hangover Hut later, he was not happy. He wanted to find you to see if you were well."

  "So when did he have time to get so drunk?" she asked.

  "He started to keep a bottle of scotch in his desk after he started to date Chloe." He bowed his head. "He must have opened it when he heard you were at Happy's."

  Scotch in his desk? She should have known to search there. "Why?"

  "Walter. Erik. I do not think he was very happy about your life being in peril yet a second time. He considered firing you."

  "Firing me? Why?"

  Razi turned away. "He does not want you to be harmed, which is why I need to fix your door, so you can at least lock it."

  She led him to the kitchen then rifled through a drawer. "Does he think the murders have something to do with his gambling problem?"

  "Partly." He shrugged. "Mostly, he believes it is some demented psychopath."

  Gilda handed him the tools. Then they walked past Mick snoring on the couch. "That sounds right. Razi, did you notice anything missing from the school after Walter's death?"

  "Of course. The photograph of Shihan Yoshida and Sensei Mick that hung in the front hall."

  She hadn't even noticed. "Anything else?"

  "Yes." He lifted the door into place. "The scroll of the Four Possessions of the Samurai Sensei Mick had put on a hook in the changing room. That was the first thing I noticed, since we all have one just like it. The scrolls were gifts from Mick when we received our black belts, just as he had received his from Yoshida."

  So much for narrowing down her suspect list.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As the morning sun peeked through the windows, Gilda stood and glared at Mick sleeping peacefully on her couch. How dare he snore blissfully unaware of her long, restless night, her damaged front door, and her impulse to hold a pillow over his face because of everything?

  She stomped past him and grasped the doorknob. As soon as she pulled open the door, the top hinge popped off so the door hung off-kilter by the bottom hinge. She leaned the sagging door against the wall then sat on the front porch step to sip her coffee and stew. How could Mick bring such unsavory characters into her life? All their lives. It was almost like he had no idea his vices would put any of his students in danger.

  After a deep sigh, she finished the last of her coffee. Sure, there was a full pot in the kitchen, but getting more required walking past Mick. After all the horrific thoughts she'd subjected herself to all night, she didn't trust herself near him.

  A door closed behind her. When she glanced back, Mick was no longer on the couch. A few minutes later he emerged from the bathroom and strolled into the kitchen. He appeared in the doorway with two cups of coffee and a frown. "I think I owe you an explanation."

  "You owe me a whole lot more than that," she said. "A new door, for one."

  He sat next to her. "At least you didn't smother me with a pillow."

  "The thought was there." She took the fresh cup of coffee, setting her empty cup aside.

  "Who fixed the door?" Then he bowed his head as though reliving the reason it was broken to begin with. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way."

  Gilda wrapped her hands around her mug. "Razi made sure it kept out the rest of the skunks. One of the hinges came off again when I opened it this morning."

  "I know a guy who can fix that."

  "From what I hear, you know a lot of guys," she said, unable to look at him yet. "Unfortunately, not all of those guys fix things. Some of them kill people."

  "Where'd you hear that?"

  "Razi told me you bet on the horses and lost badly."

  He snorted. "For a strong, silent guy, he can be a real blabbermouth. I can explain."

  "Of course you can. Don't bother," she said. "I took the job at Yoshida's because it seemed like it would be a safe place to work. I like learning how to defend myself. Suddenly, people are dying, you kicked down my front door, and I get knocked out ju
st walking into work one day. I don't want to know what you're involved in."

  Mick sipped his coffee. "Are you trying to tell me you want to quit?"

  "The thought has occurred to me."

  "I'm sure it has, but I don't know what I'd do without you." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, I know it seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—"

  "Sometimes? When Walter died, you left me to face the police. When Erik died, you sent me to get coffee, even though I had a concussion."

  His face fell. "You make it sound worse than it was."

  "Really? I thought I was sugarcoating things," she said, fighting hard not to scream. "I think you should leave now."

  "We need to talk about this."

  "No. I don't want to talk anymore." She stood, her hands shaking. "I have to call someone to repair my door. Please don't be here when I come back out."

  Mick followed her into the kitchen and placed his hand on hers when she reached for the phone. "Give me a chance to explain."

  "You've had the past week to explain and to help me deal with the chaos and figure out who the killer is," she said. "Instead, you've blown fifty grand gambling and got kicked out of your condo by some psycho you let move in, and now we're both being stalked by her father."

  "I didn't let Chloe do anything. Are you done? I've got something I want to say."

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he kept it trapped beneath his palm. "Then say what you want and get out of my house."

  "First tell me what you meant by Gary stalking both of us?"

  She stared at their hands. "He's been following you, and I keep crossing his path. You need to deal with him before he does something stupid."

  "Like kill someone?"

  "He's done that before."

  Mick grinned. "Aw, are you worried about me?"

  "No, I'm mad at you." Worry had taken a backseat to frustration after he knocked down her front door. "Now say what you want to say—then get out."

  He took her by the upper arms and gazed into her eyes. His warmth spread up her arms and left her breathless. "Gilda, I love you."

  "No!" She recoiled then kneed him in the groin.

  That seemed to be the one reaction Mick wasn't prepared for. He gasped and collapsed to the floor in a heap. "Are you crazy? What was that for?"

  "Get out." Her voice crackled, and she backed away, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't talk to you right now."

  "We're not done with this." Mick used the counter to pull himself upright. "Once we figure out who killed Walter and Erik, all bets are off."

  She shook her head. "For all I know, you killed them, and I'm next."

  "And for all I know, you killed them both, and I'm next."

  Checkmate. Once he'd left, Gilda let the tears fall in a torrent. How dare he play on her emotions like that? By the time the repairman showed up, she was emotionally drained. At the sight of both her door and her tears, he took out his phone to call the police, but she managed to convince him things were fine.

  Able to finally focus, she made a list of the Four Possessions. Someone had tucked Honor in Walter's breast pocket at his funeral, and in the week since, she'd discovered he was far from honorable. As a school teacher, he'd had an affair with a much-younger student he eventually married, and then he apparently cheated on Jade regularly.

  "Integrity. Erik, now dead and awaiting burial, definitely had none. Planning to start his own karate school behind his sensei's back was a definite no-no. Mick should have kicked him out long ago and probably would have if Erik hadn't turned up riddled with honed and poisoned ninja stars.

  When she came to Loyalty, she paused.

  She'd assumed the killer was after the four black belts beneath Mick, but what if Mick was right, and he was also a target? According to Mick, both Xavier and Chloe might have tried to poison him. Mick seemed to have loyalty issues not only with his girlfriend but with his students in general.

  Xavier's loyalties were questionable. He was also the one who'd brought poisoned coffee to her and Mick.

  Nauseous, Gilda pushed her pad of paper away when she realized her stomach was growling. The clock read one, and the air grew thick with humidity. The deli was only four blocks away. She could get there and back before the rain fell unless she stopped at the school. Since Mick was currently living there, the school was off-limits for today. With a sigh, she shoved the notepad into a drawer and locked the newly repaired front door behind her.

  The streets were quiet save a loud crack of a bat and the roar of a crowd. Most people were either already at home, the beach, or the baseball diamond a couple blocks over. Gilda just wanted to get her food and go home. She ordered a thick ham and cheese sandwich with a side of sour pickles and a diet cola, then sauntered home and opened the front gate.

  When she reached back to close it, a hand grabbed hers. She sucked in a sharp breath then spun around and stepped away, ready to use her self-defense techniques on Razi if he tried anything. The man was so large he probably wouldn't even notice if she hit him. "What do you want?"

  "We need to talk, Miss Wright." Razi made her knees shudder. The one member of the school she knew little about and had talked to even less, until recently. He raised one eyebrow. "I would like a few moments of your time, if you please."

  "Why?" she asked. "What's going on?"

  He glanced around them. "I wish to discuss Walter and Erik. Could we step inside?"

  "No." She pushed him outside the gate, feeling the need to put distance and solid objects between them. "We can talk right here."

  "After all I have done for you lately, you still do not trust me?"

  She bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Razi. For all I know, you're a mass murderer, and I'm next on your list."

  "True enough. In my own defense, however, you could also be the killer. Perhaps we could we sit in a public place, and you can learn what I have to say while you eat your lunch."

  Awkward English, but Gilda got the drift. "We can sit on the front porch."

  He bowed then followed her up the steps and sat on the bench that usually served as her outdoor coffee table. "I am sorry you are afraid I might do something bad to you."

  She set her food on the table and offered him a pickle. "I'm sorry too. None of us knows who to trust anymore. I'd never even seen a dead body before last Friday."

  "I have. It is not an experience I wish to repeat."

  Her breath stuck in her throat. "You have? When?"

  "When I was a soldier in Israel." He met her gaze, his eyes dark. "I am trained to kill, Miss Wright. If I wanted, I could snap your neck like a twig, and people would think you simply fell asleep."

  "Comforting thought. Thanks for the heads-up." She had a dozen questions but held them all inside.

  "I have no reason to harm you. I want to help you. Walter knew about something in my past I would rather not have known. He tried to force me to give him money so he would not tell Sensei Mick."

  "Walter blackmailed you?" she asked. "Just because you were a soldier?"

  "He tried to blackmail me, but not because I was a soldier. Because of something I did that forced me to leave everything that was important to me behind." Razi gazed out at the street. "I did not play his game. I told Sensei Mick my story and have kept no secrets from him."

  Gilda offered him a cup of tea. "I probably have some cookies in the freezer."

  "Thank you, but I must go now." Razi stood and bowed again. "Would you like to know what I told Sensei Mick?"

  "That depends." She wiped her palms on a napkin. "Did you kill Walter or Erik?"

  "No, Miss Wright." He never even flinched. "I swear on my life I did not."

  "Then I guess what you told Sensei Mick doesn't really matter, does it?"

  "It does not. Thank you for listening."

  Relief washed over Gilda, but her biggest question remained: If neither Mick nor Razi was the killer, who was?

  She did yoga then curled up with a novel, hoping t
o take her mind off the insanity for a short time. In the back of her mind, she replayed the crime scenes and relived the fear of realizing she wasn't in the school alone. What had she missed?

  Mick called late that afternoon. "Why aren't you at work? I need some things done, and when I got here, you were already gone."

  She stared at her candle and fought to keep her breath even. "I was never there."

  "Why? Because of this whole murder thing? When Walter died, you were always here. What changed?"

  "You're a jerk." Gilda hung up. She stormed into the kitchen and tore apart an entire head of lettuce with her fingers before Mick phoned back. "What do you want?"

  This time he hesitated. "I'm sorry. You're right. Yesterday was rough for all of us."

  "I e-mailed everyone and told them not to come back to classes until after Erik's funeral." She sagged into a chair.

  His tension was palpable even over the phone. Having no classes for the past week was already financial suicide for the karate school, especially under the circumstances. "That's a good idea. I'll check the messages and e-mails. Then we can get things back on track and—"

  "How?" she asked, glad she was several blocks out of his reach. "In case you missed the newsflash, we've had two instructors murdered in the past week. Murdered, Mick. Not dropped dead from heart failure or an aneurysm. Somebody walked in and killed them."

  "I get it, Gilda."

  "I don't think you do." She chopped a tomato into her salad. "None of this is random. Someone is targeting the instructors at our school. Our staff. You or I could be next."

  "Not you," he said softly.

  She snorted. "Why not me? Don't you think I'm important enough to kill?"

  "Oddly enough." Mick chuckled. "All I'm saying is, there seems to be a pattern. Remember that HILT thing? The Four Possessions?"

  "How could I forget it? It's all I've thought about since Walter's funeral." Well, that and Mick kissing her in her kitchen. She attacked a miniature cucumber as though slaughtering a defenseless vegetable would make her feel better.