by Diane Bator
She let go of her bag and let him toss it into the backseat. When he opened the car door, she eased her weary body onto the passenger seat. She was in no shape to fight anymore. All she wanted was to go home, sit in a warm bath and cry. “Thank you.”
He pulled into traffic. “Who did this to you? If you say Mick, I’ll fix him good.”
“It wasn’t Mick.” She sniffled. “Actually, he put a stop to it.”
“Huh.” He raised his eyebrows. “Now I am surprised. It must have been that Yoshida character then,” Gary said. “I hate to point this out, but no teacher should ever do this to their student. Somebody needs to teach that little jerk a thing or two about respect.”
“I agree.” Gilda touched her swollen lip.
“You want me to arrange a little payback?” he asked. “I can get a guy who’s so quiet and fast even Yoshida won’t know what hit him.”
She tried to chuckle, but smiling hurt. “You’re very thoughtful in a weird sort of way, but no thank you.”
“You’re just going to lick your wounds and pretend it never happened, huh?” he asked. “You won’t even stand up for yourself.”
Gilda nodded. “That’s it.”
Gary made a U-turn and pulled the car directly in front of her house. Before she could orient herself to open the door, he ran around to let her out and grabbed her duffle. “Let’s get you inside and settled. You got some ice for those bruises?”
“Not as much as I think I’ll need,” she said.
He stared. “How much do you think you need?”
“Enough to fill my bathtub.” She let him unlock her front door.
“You may want to think a tad smaller scale to avoid hypothermia.” He led her to the couch and helped her get comfortable then strolled into the kitchen to rifle through the freezer portion of her fridge. “You’ve got enough here for a good start. I’ll make up a couple ice packs then get you some more for later.”
Gilda followed him and leaned in the doorway. As much as Gary scared her silly, she admired how he’d dropped everything, even if it was stalking Mick, to help take care of her. “I can look after myself.”
“Yeah, I can see that from all the bruises. Nonsense. It’s no bother. You sit and relax. I’ll get what you need.” He poured ice cubes into a couple large plastic bags and zipped them closed. “You got any painkillers? You’re going to need some once the shock and adrenalin wear off.”
“Top cupboard to the left of the fridge.” She ambled into the living room and slouched on the couch with her ice pack and a bottle of water. Her body ached from head to sole and she began to shiver.
“Take these before the shock wears off.” Gary handed her the bottle of painkillers. He draped a plush blanket over her legs and turned on the television. “I’m going to Happy’s for more ice. You need anything else? Whiskey? Wine? A good hit man? I know guys.”
This time she laughed, hoping he was making a warped joke. “I’m good. Thanks, Gary. You go on home and I’ll…” She waved a hand at a loss for words. Cry. Fall apart. Lose her mind.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” He pulled the door closed.
Gilda reached for the phone on the coffee table and lost her balance. She toppled off the couch, landing on her sore wrist. Not a graceful move, but less embarrassing since Gary left. She sat up slowly to make sure she hadn’t caused further injuries then dialed her mom’s number.
“Gilda, how are you? I really hoped to see you on the long weekend. Did you find something fun to do? You didn’t hang out with that boss of yours, did you? How are Marion and your friend Walter? He’s such a sweet man.” Her mom’s questions came like rapid fire and sent Gilda physically reeling against the couch.
“Walter’s dead, Mom,” She choked back tears. “I told you that the other day.”
Stunned silence from her mom.
Gilda took advantage of the rare opportunity. “Do you know Gary Del Garda?”
Still nothing.
“Mom? Are you there?”
A rush of breath came over the phone. “How do you know Gary Del Garda?”
Gilda explained about running into him several times since Walter’s death. “He seems to be trying to look out for me, but it’s actually really creepy. I’m not so sure I like the attention.”
“Did he say why he’s stalking you?”
“He’s not stalking me. He’s following Mick and I just run into him while I’m coming and going,” Gilda said. “You do know him, right?”
“Yes and he’s bad news. You keep your distance from him. He’s a dangerous man.”
“Hey, Gilda. It’s just me, Gary. I’ve got your stuff.” The dangerous man in question ran up the front step and knocked on her door.
“Have to go, Mom. I’ll call you later.” Gilda cringed at what her neighbors would think if they heard a known criminal yell at her door about having her stuff. She tucked the phone beneath the couch cushion. “Come on in.”
Gary gasped, out of breath, as if he ran rather than drove the few blocks to Happy Harvey’s and back. “Why are you sitting on the floor? You were on the couch when I left. Are you okay? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“Wow. You sound just like my mother.” She faked a laugh. “I lost my balance trying to reach the phone. What did you bring?”
“A bag of ice.” He crossed the room in two large steps with a large paper bag and set it on the coffee table. In one hand he clutched a couple of single roses from the plastic vase on Happy’s front counter. “A bottle of wine, a couple apples and frozen microwave lasagna. I thought you might be hungry. I’m actually a great cook, but I didn’t think you’d want me messing around in your kitchen for an hour or two.”
She reached for the small ice pack that had fallen on the floor. “That was thoughtful. Thanks.”
Gary took everything into the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with a fresh ice pack and the heated lasagna transferred to a plate with a side salad. He disappeared into the kitchen again and brought her a glass of white wine and the two roses in a small vase.
Gilda smiled, for real this time. “I think you’re the best butler I’ve ever had.”
His face paled. “What did you call me?”
“A butler.” She frowned. “What did you think I said?”
“Nothing. Eat, rest, and build up some strength. You have a funeral to go to tomorrow. Make sure you lock the door behind me in case that spineless little rat wasn’t finished with you.”
“Rat?” Gilda narrowed her eyes. “Why would you call Yoshida that?”
“Figure of speech. Have a good night. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He was gone before she could open her mouth to thank him.
There were a number of people she could call to find out more about Gary, including Marion. Unfortunately, she was overcome by the tears she’d fought off for the past half hour and was in no shape to speak to any of them.
Chapter 15
Gilda lay in bed the next morning and stared at the dingy ceiling. Once she felt stronger and had more time, she’d have to paint every room in the house. For today, she needed to get up and moving, but hurt in places she’d only read about in medical magazines while waiting in Doc’s office. Walter’s funeral was in five hours, at one, which was probably how long it would take her to get out of bed and force her weary body into clothes.
She rolled out of bed and thought about scrambled eggs for breakfast, but standing hurt too many body parts at once. Toast with peanut butter and jam was easy. If she ached this bad today, she could happily wait for tomorrow’s recovery pain.
Last night she remained on the couch until nearly two, partly because she ached all over and partly to make sure Gary didn’t return. He was the least of her worries.
According to Erik, Walter was supposed to be Mick’s replacement at the school. If Yoshida wanted to open more schools, why not let Walter run a new one? She and Mick had an interesting thing going on in Sandstone Cove. With the school.
When Gilda tried to rub a stiff muscle in her back, her hand cramped. “Oh crap! What was going through that man’s head?”
She cursed Yoshida repeatedly on her shuffle to the shower. After trying to wash off the previous night and failing miserably, she’d nearly finished covering the bruises on her face with foundation before the doorbell rang. She waddled to the door.
Erik stood on the doorstep, his hair rumpled and his expression cold. “What did they say about me last night after I left?”
No hello. No cup of coffee to bribe her for information. Gilda had half a mind to slam the door in his face. The other half reminded her he was bigger, stronger, and faster and could knock her door down with a single punch.
“No one said anything.” She joined him outside in the sunshine. The warmth comforted her weary body and battered face. No sign of Gary. “No one dared. Yoshida just trained us until we dropped.”
Well, it was mostly true, but he still didn’t look convinced. “What about after?”
“Mick sent us all home.” She limped to the porch swing. “I came home and took an Epsom salt bath before my body completely seized up.” And cried so much her head still ached.
“And to put ice on your face. Who did the damage?” He studied her.
“Yoshida.”
He gasped. “You sparred him? Oh, crap. I’m glad I left. He would’ve killed me. Why would he take after you?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t like nosy people.”
Erik snorted and rubbed his face with both hands. “He must have heard about you playing detective. You got any coffee?”
“No, I just got up.” A mourning dove cooed on the roof across the street. “Where did you go after you left the school last night?”
“What do you care? Oh, I forgot. You’re Gilda Wright, super sleuth.”
“Is that why you came to talk to me?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she thought about the implications.
He opened his mouth, probably to chastise her, then looked away to her garden. “Maybe on some level. For the record, I didn’t want Walter dead. All I wanted was the chance to teach some classes and learn to run my own school. I know I’d do a good job.”
Gilda’s neck prickled. “So why didn’t you?”
Erik’s face reddened and he looked away, his blond hair tousled by the breeze. “Yoshida thought I was too immature. Too hotheaded. He convinced Mick I wasn’t worthy of running one of his schools. Apparently, my technique and personality aren’t up to his standards. He said I’d only screw things up. Guess I sure proved him right last night, didn’t I?”
She sighed. “I guess so. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just with all the problems lately, if anyone had answers, it would be you. I shouldn’t have come. You don’t need to be dragged into all this crap.”
She wanted to blurt “I already am, so spit it out,” but bit her puffy lower lip to keep the words inside. Erik would leave and never tell her anything.
He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know who killed Walter or why. I know it’s on the tip of your tongue to ask, but it wasn’t me. I swear. I have an alibi.”
“You do?” She was surprised he even felt the need to offer her one.
He bowed his head. “I was with Chloe.”
“Mick’s girlfriend?” Her eyes grew wide.
Erik reddened. “We met up and had a couple of drinks. She told me she and Mick were having problems and she needed someone, if you know what I mean.”
More fuel to stoke the fire. What was wrong with everyone around her? She drew in a long breath. “Walter was killed around midday after noon class.”
“Yup, I know. I got fired from my job Friday morning then went for a liquid lunch. Chloe was there talking to some guy when I walked in. Something about her dad and a gambling debt Mick was get upset about. We talked and I told her I needed money to start my own school and move on.”
Gilda sucked in a sharp breath. “You’d set up a school to compete with Mick?”
He chuckled. “Are you kidding me? He and Yoshida would kick my butt. I’m moving back in with my folks. I just need money for start-up and some equipment.”
She frowned. “How much money would it take? For curiosity’s sake.”
“More than enough to go to a loan shark or his daughter for.” Erik smiled then stood. “I’m sure none of this surprises you. You’ve probably heard worse lately with all the gossip that’s flying around.”
She really wanted to hear more sure the conversation had swung back toward Gary, but didn’t want to seem meddling. “Yeah, I’ve heard enough lately to make my hair go straight.”
“Enough to make you give up this silly notion of catching a murderer, I hope.” His smile faded. “You don’t want to be next on the list. I’ll see you around.”
Erik walked out of her yard and across the street to his silver sports car with a scrape on the rear fender.
Was his comment a threat or a warning? Maybe Erik was part of the reason Gary was suddenly becoming buddy-buddy with her. Mick owed Gary money. If Gary did loan Erik money, getting close to Gilda could be one way to keep an eye on both his investments.
Once he left, she stood, groaning from the ache in her muscles. She needed coffee, breakfast, and to tell Fabio about the scrape on Erik’s car. She also needed to skip her run. She’d never be able to pull off her sweaty shorts to shower later. A day off would do her good.
Who else in Sandstone Cove knew Walter met his wife when she was a schoolgirl? The thought struck Gilda on her half-hearted walk to the coffee shop. If any of the parents found out, they wouldn’t bother with theatrics, they’d run straight for their lawyer. No second chances. They’d label him a pedophile with no chance of redemption.
No one at the café questioned the bruises when she ordered a large coffee and a cinnamon bun the size of her face. They all knew where she worked and how hard she trained. Bruises after a visit from Yoshida were expected. She ambled home with her head bowed enough to discourage anyone from talking to her.
Once she’d locked the front door to keep out the world, she sat in the backyard garden and tried to focus on the flowers and birds. She managed to eat half the cinnamon bun, despite the ache in her jaw, and sat back to sip her coffee. At least her jaw was in one piece and she didn’t need to use a straw. Pureed cinnamon bun didn’t sound as desirable as a soft, warm one did.
Once more, her thoughts turned to Walter and his grisly demise. He’d loved cinnamon buns too, but Jade would never let him eat them at home. White flour and sugar were taboo.
Certain a walking meditation would help, she finished the bun then cradled her coffee in both hands and shuffled barefoot through the garden. Peace. Each blade of grass caressed her bare feet. Each flower reached out. Each sunbeam warmed her hair. The fragrant air...
Who was she kidding? Nothing about walking through the little garden with a hot paper cup in her hands and anxiety in her stomach was even remotely peaceful. Not today.
Unable to carry on without her mind traveling toward deep, dark thoughts, Gilda went inside and lit a candle. She turned on a relaxation CD and sat on a cushion. One by one, the images from the training session left her mind and her shoulders and neck loosened.
She pushed all thoughts out of her head and focused on the candle. Peace. Blissful, mindless peace. As she slowed her breathing, the muscles in her shoulders softened. Zen. She released a long breath that took a third of her stress with it into the atmosphere.
Then someone oblivious to her hard-sought tranquility banged on the front door. She flinched and let out a groan.
“Gilda, honey, you in there?” Marion. Crap, Gilda forgot to call her last night. “Are you okay? Mick told me you got a little banged up last night. Open the door. I’ve got arnica and fruit.”
Gilda could ignore her, but Marion was crafty and would peer in every window and jiggle all the door handles. Sooner or later, she’d figure out Gilda was home and find the
spare key. If she didn’t open the door now and find out what Marion wanted, she’d never get any peace.
“Coming.” She blew out the candle as tension reclaimed her upper body.
Marion stood on the front porch, an enormous basket covered in red cellophane and tied with a floppy blue bow in both hands. She peered over her dark sunglasses as her eyes widened. “Oh wow. Looks like that was some class last night. That’ll teach you. Mick, Yoshida, and I all told you not to go.”
“But you’re not about to say I told you so, right?”
“Show’s how well you know me.” Marion snorted. “I told you so. That’s quite the fat lip. Did Erik do that to you?”
“Erik?” Gilda asked. “Why would you say that?”
Marion gave her a one-armed hug. “Come on, everyone at the school knows he’s a hot-head. Anyway, I bumped into Sensei Mick earlier who, by the way, looks almost as bad as you, if that’s possible. He said you were having a hard time dealing with Walter’s death and I should leave you alone today.”
“He doesn’t know me very well, does he?” She handed Gilda the crackling basket. “I know this isn’t much. A few of the parents pitched in and thought it might cheer you up. I volunteered to deliver it so I had a good excuse to be late for work.”
“That’s thoughtful. Thanks.” She glanced inside at the full basket of assorted fruits and boxes of chocolates then handed it back. “I think Walter’s family might need the warm, fuzzy thoughts more than me.”
“Oh no, this one’s for you. See, it’s got lots of fruit and chocolate. All your favorites.” Marion pushed it back. “Besides, I already stopped at the Levy house to drop off a basket and a gift certificate, but no one was home. I guess they’re either at the funeral home or shopping for black clothes.”
“Maybe.” A brief panic attack threatened as Gilda’s eyes welled with tears. Did she even own anything black aside from workout clothes? “Does this mean you’re not coming to the funeral with me?”