by Diane Bator
In the center of the dojo, Yoshida frowned. "I cannot do that. Since I now own the building, I need to pay the mortgage. I also need to support my fiancée as well as her children."
"Your fiancée?" Mick asked. "Don't you mean Walter's widow? Is that why you killed him? I get the katana, but poisoning him seems like overkill. Even for someone like you."
"Perhaps, but as much as his wife no longer wanted to be with him, she did not wish him to suffer. I respected her wishes." Yoshida sank gracefully to his knees and sat with his body at a forty-five-degree angle to Gilda. "Walter never appreciated her. I lavish her with gifts and keep up with her in ways her husband never could."
Mick continued to pace. "The way I hear it, she's got a lot of boy toys. What makes you think she'll give up her house and life here to go anywhere with you?"
Yoshida's back stiffened. "You are a bad liar."
"Am I?" Mick asked. "Ask around. You're not her only boyfriend. I guarantee it."
The Zen calmness was gone in a huff as Yoshida let out a slow, shaky breath. "If you will not cooperate with my wishes, I do have other ways to deal with you." He slid something out of his shirt sleeve.
Over in the next stall, Fabio made a small noise. Gilda was sure it was all he could do to hold back from running out and tackling Yoshida.
"A blowgun." Mick's voice wavered. "Am I supposed to be your next victim? Time, right? What exactly does time have to do with me?"
"Ah, you figured it out." Yoshida sounded genuinely pleased. "Clever, but too late."
Gilda sucked in a squeak, and her entire body tensed. She'd been right. Yoshida was the killer. Mick was about to die, and it was far too late for an "I told you so."
"Walter's past made him dishonorable, plus he was in your way with Jade," Mick said. "Erik was about to turn his back on you and all your training. Since he showed a lack of integrity, you literally stabbed him in the back. Xavier has me stumped, though. What did he ever do to you?"
"He wanted to be your equal and have a school of his own. I was reluctant." Yoshida frowned. "When he poisoned my tea and made me very ill, I lost patience with him and wanted to banish him."
Yet a third victim of Xavier's rash of cyanide poisonings.
"Which made him no longer loyal, so you killed him," Mick said. "The third possession."
Yoshida smiled. "You are smarter than I gave you credit for."
"Actually, Gilda—Miss Wright—figured it out. She's the smart one." Mick glanced toward her desk rather than toward the curtain she hid behind. "It wasn't wise of you to make her your enemy when you tried to beat her to a pulp in class."
She smiled, face warm. While grateful for the compliments, she wasn't sure Mick giving her credit for solving the puzzle was such a good idea. If their plan didn't work, Yoshida would come after her and Razi next. Where was Razi? Why wasn't he here to watch Mick's back?
"The receptionist?" Yoshida snorted. "Her friends are gangsters who could cause us trouble. She is weak and not worthy of your loyalty."
"You thought she suspected you all along, didn't you?" Mick went on. "That's why you went after her in the workshop. You thought if she was afraid of you, she'd never tell anyone."
Yoshida snorted. "You would listen to a silly girl's flights of fancy rather than believe in me? I am your Sensei. She is nothing."
Gilda held her breath.
"You're wrong," Mick said. "She's the backbone of this school, and I do believe her, especially since it appears she was right."
"That is of little consequence." Yoshida raised the blowgun to his mouth.
"I never took you for a coward." Mick shook his head. "A true goju karate master would stand up and fight like a man with his bare hands, empty hands, not resort to blowguns and weapons. Of course, he'd also never kill his students out of jealousy." Mick held up a hand. "Not that it matters but, just for the record, what are you using? Rat poison?"
"Suitable, but too obvious." A sly smile slid across Yoshida's face. "A neurotoxin not tested for in North America. Within minutes you will stop breathing. Then your heart will stop. The poison will spread even after your body dies. No one will know what hit you."
"In other words, cobra venom," Mick said. "Just like you used on Walter."
Yoshida's back stiffened. When he raised the blowgun to his lips, Gilda gripped the curtains and longed to burst out of the changing room. If he heard her, he'd shoot her instead. Mick and Razi would be safe. Had she become that fearless?
Across the dojo, something clicked, and her blood ran cold.
Thayer, in his socks, crept across the mats behind Yoshida and pointed a gun to his head. "Put the weapon down."
Gilda sucked in a sharp breath. She wanted to close her eyes and lay her head against the wall, but she wasn't so sure it was over. Yoshida's chest expanded, filling with air as his mouth opened so slightly Thayer would not have seen the motion. Yoshida had too much to lose.
Her muscles tensed before the bamboo reed blowgun even touched his lips. She shoved the curtain aside, aware of nothing and everything all at once as her feet touched the puzzle mats a heartbeat before Yoshida let out a sharp puff of air. Her shoulder connected with Yoshida's torso, and she shoved him to the ground. Two solid thuds vibrated the mats before everything stood still.
Fabio's and Razi's shouts froze both her blood and her breath. Beneath her, Yoshida lay sprawled facedown, the blowgun on the mats in front of them. Gilda lay on top to pin him to the floor like she'd seen Razi do to bigger men in jiujitsu classes. Yoshida could probably hardly breathe, let alone move, yet she had no sympathy for him.
Yoshida glanced up at her and smirked. "You are too late, Miss Wright."
Across the room, Mick lay on his side and dripped sweat onto the mats, his eyes wide and mouth agape. His body motionless.
Gilda's vision swam, and she screamed.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Unable to move, Gilda lay sprawled on top of Yoshida and stared at Mick. Her breath came in short, frantic gasps. "If he's dead, you'll never leave prison alive."
"It no longer matters, does it?" Yoshida said. "I already got what I want. This school will close, and Mick Williams will never teach again."
"Gilda, what were you thinking?" Thayer asked. "Were you trying to get somebody killed?"
"Somebody call an ambulance and get Yoshida into the backseat of a car before I shoot him." Fabio directed traffic, trying to keep everyone away from Mick until someone grabbed Yoshida to snap on handcuffs.
Razi knelt next to Mick and rolled him onto his back. Beside his knee, the feathers on the blow dart fluttered from the breeze blowing in the back door, the tip embedded in the mat.
Gilda's jaw dropped and tears leaked from her eyes. "You missed?"
Yoshida cursed for the first time she'd ever heard when an officer pulled him to his feet. "No thanks to you."
"Is Gilda okay?" Mick asked.
"I thought you were dead." Gilda fought to rein in her tears. Mick was alive.
His gaze met hers as he struggled to his feet with Razi's help. "Me too, babe."
Fabio picked Gilda up and gave her a hug. "Lady, you're amazing. Did you see the way she flew out of the changing room, knocked him off balance, and saved your sorry neck. Didn't you see her in action?"
"No, I kind of had my eyes closed," Mick said. "I was a little worried about dying."
When Gilda blinked back tears and stumbled toward Mick, he caught her in a bear hug that nearly knocked them both to the floor. She pressed her head to his bare, sweaty chest in relief. He held her tight and didn't seem about to let her go.
"Miss Wright." Razi flashed a smile. "While I wish you were not here, I am glad to see you are okay."
She willed her hands to stop shaking. "Why weren't you here earlier?"
"Actually, he and I were here all night," Mick said. "Razi's the genius who set up the sensors in the vent and wired the doors. No one could get into this place without us knowing."
Gilda clenched her
jaw. "Why couldn't you have done that a month ago and saved us some stress and trouble?"
"Forgive me, Miss Wright." Razi bowed. "I told you Sensei Mick knew all my secrets. I was a secret agent with the Israeli government until I was exiled. I am an expert at surveillance and infiltrating spy networks."
"Which is why you walked right into Jade's Levy's house," she said. "She thought you were her friend."
He smiled. "In truth, I have been her friend for many years. She gave me the information we needed to catch Yoshida. She is afraid of him and recorded every conversation they have had since Walter's death. He is one crazy dude."
Dude? She never thought she'd hear Razi, of all people, use that term.
"The good news is, we got Yoshida's full confession on tape." Thayer handed Fabio his phone. "There's no way he's getting away with anything."
As the police presence subsided, Gilda's heart rate gradually slowed until she sighed.
"Are you okay, Sherlock?" Mick sat next to her near the shrine and reached for his gi jacket while managing to keep one arm around her.
"Yeah, I'll be fine." Gilda blinked furiously. "I was really afraid I'd lost you."
"Aww, you do care." He leaned over to kiss her. "Did you think about what I said earlier?"
"About spending some time alone together?" she asked. "I'm in."
Thayer snorted. "Oh, please. Save it. Everyone knows Mick Williams will never settle down for any woman. He'll dump you as soon as the next princess in distress comes along."
"Maybe," she said, "but that's a chance I'm ready to take."
Razi rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "Thank goodness. It is about time."
Gilda met Mick's gaze and smiled. "Time."
"The last kanji actually was mine all along. Guess you just won twenty bucks, Razi."
Gilda's jaw dropped.
GLOSSARY
Do
Empty hand way
Dojo
Training hall
Karate-Gi
Karate uniform
Goju
Hard/Soft
Goju-ryu
Hard/Soft style
Hajime
Begin
Hie
Yes
Karate
Empty hand
Karate-do
Empty hand way
Karate Ka
Karate student
Kata
Forms
Kiai
Meeting of the spirits
Kime
Focus
Kumite
Sparring
Mawatte
Turn
Mukso
Meditate
Naotte
Return to a formal (upright) position
Obi
Belt
Osu (Os)
I understand
Rei
Bow
Ryu
School or Style
Seiza
Kneel
Sempai
Senior
Sensei
Teacher
Shihan
Master instructor
Taikyoku
Universal
Tate
Upward, stand up
Yame
Stop
Yoi
Ready
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Diane Bator is an avid hiker, yoga enthusiast, Reiki Master, wannabe runner, and martial artist, who loves to make a mess in the kitchen and putter in the garden. Moving across the country with three boys and a cat, then joining a writing group, was the catalyst for coming out of the creative closet and writing her first murder mystery series. Hard at work on her second series, she lives in Southern Ontario, Canada with her husband, three teenagers, and a cat who thinks he's a Husky.
To learn more about Diane Bator, visit her online at: http://penspaintsandpaper.com
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BOOKS BY DIANE BATOR
Yin-Yang Mysteries:
Death of a Jaded Samurai
Murder of a Fallen Fighter (coming in 2015!)
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SNEAK PEEK
If you enjoyed this Yin-Yang Mystery, check out this sneak peek of another humorous mystery from Gemma Halliday Publishing:
MOTION FOR MURDER
by
KELLY REY
CHAPTER ONE
I knew right away that it wasn't going to be a typical day at the law firm of Parker, Dennis, and Heath. For one thing, there was only one client waiting in the reception area when I got to work, a huge man in a ketchup-stained T-shirt with a pelt like a squirrel and work boots that spoke to days spent hiking in landfills.
For another thing, that client was holding a gun.
I saw only three ways to handle the situation. Three became two when I saw I had a dead cell phone. My next option was to approach him calmly, discuss his issues coolly, and dispatch him to the nearest police station quickly. Or make a hard left, flee to the kitchen, and hide behind the refrigerator until braver souls took charge. That's why I was hugging the SubZero when Missy Clark came in the back door. Missy had been a secretary with the firm for a lot of years, and she'd seen a lot of things. But a colleague cowering beside a major appliance wasn't one of them, and it stopped her in her tracks.
"Hey, Jamie." Her right eyebrow lifted. "What're you doing?"
"Ssh." I cocked my head toward the reception area and put my finger to my lips in the universal gesture for Be quiet—can't you tell there's a kook with a gun out there?
Missy tiptoed over to squat beside me. "What's going on?"
I pointed. "There's a gun out there with a house attached to it."
She took a peek. "Adam Tiddle." She sighed. "He's harmless. He's mad because we didn't take his case. He thought it'd make him a millionaire. He's been showing up ever since Dougie turned him down." She shook her head. "I told him it was going to bite him in the briefs."
"I don't think biting is what this guy has in mind," I said. "Unless chewing and swallowing are involved. I'm not going out there until he's gone."
Missy shrugged. "He's not as bad as he looks. He was in a car accident."
"I've seen him," I said. "No car accident did that."
"His neighbor was changing a flat, and Adam was holding up the car," Missy said.
I nodded. "And the jack broke?"
Missy looked puzzled. "What jack?"
Oh.
"That's the problem. There's no negligence there except for his own. He just doesn't get it." She pushed herself up. "I should call Dougie and warn him."
Dougie was Douglas J. Heath, Esquire, commonly known in secretarial circles as Dougie Digits for the creative and offensive use of his eleven fingers. Thank goodness the eleventh was only an extra pinky finger. I shuddered to think of the damage he could do with another thumb. Dougie had a penchant for spandex and a predilection for ogling secretaries in sundresses. He was the approximate weight of a garden gnome, with a perpetual swagger, and arms that formed two hairy parentheses to his torso. Dougie had once sued a Chinese restaurant for causing a stress disorder because its fortune cookie had predicted grim tidings, and that pretty much tells you all you need to know about Dougie.
Before Missy could pick up the phone, the gnome himself burst through the back door, all pink and flushed with the effort of hustling the six feet from his Mercedes. Everything left Dougie pink and flushed. He broke a sweat lifting his bottle of vitamin pills. Dougie wore the most expensive shoes, the most beautifully tailored suits, and the priciest haircuts, and he still looked like the sleaziest personal injury lawyer in town. He was holding a DVD in one hand that was either a memorialization of his weekend escapades or a copy of his latest commercial. I've seen his commercials. I wasn't sure whi
ch would be worse.
His eyes narrowed when he saw me and widened when he saw Missy. All men reacted like that to Missy. Probably because she was five-nine, and five of it was legs. "I don't see any computers in the kitchen, ladies. And it's too early for lunch, Winters."
A flush of embarrassment started at my belly button and washed upward. "You're probably wondering why I'm hiding next to the refrigerator," I said, but Dougie wasn't paying attention. He was too busy looking at Missy. "That top does amazing things for your cans, Clark."
Missy didn't even flinch. She gave me a sidelong look that might or might not have included a wink, tore a paper towel off the roll, and handed it to him. "Here. Clean yourself up. You've got someone waiting."
Dougie brightened and blotted. "A new client?"
"Hold on, you probably shouldn't—" I said.
Missy ignored me. "Yep. Sounds like a live one, too."
"Hot damn, and it's only Monday." Dougie swiped the towel across the back of his neck and dropped it on the counter beside his video. "Teeth?" He peeled back his lips for Missy's inspection.
"Teeth," she agreed.
His lips snapped shut. He adjusted his tie, straightened his lapels, ran a hand through his hair, and patted Missy on the backside. "Make me a protein shake, will you, doll? I'll be right back."
"If you're lucky," Missy muttered, yanking open the refrigerator.