A Darling of Death

by Gin Jones

  "Violence is not the answer." Barry always spoke in a deep monotone, his words distinctly enunciated and evenly spaced, as if everything he said was taken from a chanted prayer memorized during his days as a monk.

  "I don't have any violence on the agenda for today." Helen might hit the punching bag if she got the chance, but she didn't think that counted as violence. Besides, she was coming around to believing she just wasn't cut out for hitting things. It was much more satisfying to defeat people—the ones who deserved it, like Danica's killer—without hurting anyone physically. "I'm learning Tai Chi."

  "Ah," he said. "That is good. Breathing with discipline. You might also consider a meditation retreat someday. I would be happy to recommend a good one."

  They arrived at the House of Sambo just then, saving Helen from having to come up with a polite way to turn down his offer. Barry's definition of a "good" retreat was likely to involve hair shirts, stone floors for prostration, and multi-hour kneeling sessions. Even if Helen were tempted by such an experience, she doubted it would be anywhere near as beneficial for her health as the much less painful Tai Chi.

  "I'll keep that in mind." Helen swiped her credit card to pay the fare. She considered whether to ask Barry to come back in an hour, but decided against it. If Jack was still on his stake-out then, she could ask Tate to swing by here when he left the law office, since they were planning to have dinner together anyway.

  Helen climbed out of the cab as quickly as she could to avoid any more helpful advice from Barry. "Gotta run, or I'll be late for my class."

  A glance around the sparsely-filled parking lot suggested it wouldn't have mattered if she were late, since there were hardly any other customers who might have had a claim on Mia's time.

  Inside the building, the workout area was as empty as the parking lot had suggested, with only Marty Reed and his friend using the exercise equipment at the far end of the space. Kolya had to be increasingly worried about the future of his business. She supposed people could have been staying away because of the stiflingly hot weather and lack of air conditioning, but she thought the uncertainties surrounding Danica's death were making the situation worse.

  Helen headed into the locker room to change and emerged a few minutes later to find Mia dragging the straight-backed chair into a patch of sunshine near the middle of the open workout space. Her despondent posture and plodding steps suggested she hadn't realized anyone could see her, or she would have been making an effort to appear upbeat and encouraging.

  "Is it as bad as it looks?" Helen asked as she approached. "Or is this just a naturally slow time of day?"

  Mia started, dropping the chair so it fell on its side. She picked it up and then mopped the sweat from her face with the towel draped around her neck. "It's hard to say. It takes time to get the word out about a new business, and we haven't been open for long. Plus, it's not uncommon for people to lose interest in working out after the initial enthusiastic registration. Especially in the summer, when there's lots of other options for recreational activities." She straightened into her usual perfect posture. "Never mind that. You're here for some mindful breathing exercises. You can't do them properly if you're fretting about things you can't control."

  Helen let herself be led through some initial stretching exercises and then the Tai Chi forms themselves. Before long, she'd become completely focused on the movements and her breathing, forgetting about the oppressive heat and everything else that was weighing on her. When they reached the end of the sequence, not getting stuck at the usual spot for a change, she did feel refreshed. At least mentally, although she desperately needed a shower. She'd felt a slight breeze from the ceiling fans, but the air coming in through the loading dock doors, both of which were open about a foot today, was hot and muggy, so it didn't do much to cool her down.

  Her sense of calm didn't last more than a few seconds before all of her questions about Danica's death returned and refused to be stilled. Helen couldn't seem to shake the idea that she was somehow responsible for the murder, as if it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been nearby to find the body. She knew she was being ridiculous, but logic wasn't going to make her feel better. Only seeing the killer arrested would do that.

  "Have you had enough for today?" Mia asked. "Or would you like to go through the forms one more time?"

  On the verge of saying she was done, Helen saw her car-accident nemesis, Van Taylor, and a man she didn't recognize coming through the main door. She wasn't in the mood for another confrontation with him right now. Van had probably been a member of Kolya's gym for far longer than she had, giving him some slight justification for viewing her presence here as evidence that she was stalking him.

  Whatever residual calm she was experiencing from the Tai Chi workout dissipated, and her muscles tensed with an instinctive fight-or-flight response. Unfortunately, her body wasn't capable of either option these days. That was why she was here at the House of Sambo, after all: to get stronger.

  "As long as you don't have any other guests who need your help," Helen said, "do you have time to coach me in another punching bag session?"

  "I thought you'd decided once was enough."

  Helen glanced at where Van and his friend were disappearing in the direction of the locker rooms. "I might have been a bit hasty in that decision."

  Mia followed Helen's gaze. "Ah. You've met Van Taylor, I assume. You don't have to be afraid of him. He's on his best behavior these days. He's already got two strikes against him for upsetting other guests. Kolya's told him if there's another incident, he'll be banned for life."

  "I'm not exactly afraid," Helen said. "It's more that I don't think he'd be happy to see me here. He thinks I'm stalking him."

  "Probably best to avoid him then," Mia said. "We don't need anyone calling the police out here again. Although if he did something that stupid, it might be enough for Kolya to decide he's had enough of Van. I really can't stand the guy. He tried hitting on me a few times, and I don't mean during a sparring match. He thinks he's a player, and maybe he is, but he hasn't had much luck picking up women around here. I thought Danica was going to do some real damage to him the one time he tried flirting with her. It wouldn't have been good for the gym's reputation if she'd clobbered him, but I have to admit, I kind of wished she had. She had the skills to mop up the floor with him, both physically and mentally. Then he might have been too embarrassed to ever come back."

  "It's probably just as well she didn't." Helen watched as Van Taylor and his sparring partner emerged from the locker rooms, raced over to the nearest mat, and began jabbing at each other. Helen wasn't an expert, but she thought the two men were more about the show than any actual physical contact. Even so, if she had to say who was winning, it was the man she didn't know, mostly because Van seemed to be afraid to take any risks and was entirely focused on defending himself. Neither of them had the aura of dominance and barely-controlled fury that she'd observed in Danica. "I've been assured that violence is never the answer."

  "I'm sure you're right," Mia said. "They say that violence, even well intentioned, always rebounds upon oneself."

  Helen winced as Van was hit with what looked and sounded like a solid blow to the ribs. "Unfortunately, too many people do think that violence is the answer."

  * * *

  Helen decided to skip the punching bag session after all and slipped past Van and his sparring partner while they were too busy to notice her.

  She hesitated at the entrance to the shower, flashing on the memory of Danica lying on the floor, her diluted blood running into the drain. The police hadn't been specific in their statements to the press about exactly where the body had been found, but Helen wouldn't be surprised to hear that the details had reached the local grapevine. If members of the Zubov House of Sambo were afraid to use the shower because of its association with a gruesome scene, it might be the final blow to Kolya's business.

  Determined to set a good example even if there was no one around to see
it, Helen forced herself to enter the shower and turn on the water. Admittedly, not the same faucet that had been running when she'd found the body, but she did manage to overwrite her last memory of the shower as a scene of murder with a more mundane one of rinsing off the heat and sweat of her workout.

  While she was changing afterwards, Jack called to let her know that Danica's brother had just arrived.

  "Damian looks about like I'd expect from someone coming in from an international flight," he said. "Staggered a bit on the way into the B&B. Probably jet-lagged and either exhausted or a little drunk. Nothing I didn't see a thousand times as an airport limo driver."

  "And the staff?"

  "Nothing suspicious there either," Jack said. "We saw two sets of guests arrive. They checked in, brought their luggage inside, and then left again a while later in what seemed like a good mood. Nothing to indicate they'd had bad service. I mean, some of the staff could have been looting the supply closet while others took care of the guests, but I didn't think you wanted us to go inside to get that close a look."

  In the background, Rebecca's voice was audible. "Let me talk to her."

  "Rebecca wants to follow Damian inside." Jack retained control of the phone. "I didn't think that was what you wanted."

  "It's not," Helen said firmly. She didn't want to be responsible for them getting arrested for trespassing. Not even for Spencer's sake. Rebecca's employment with the nursing agency could be jeopardized if she were charged with a crime, and Jack was already a little too well known to the local police. "I'm counting on you to keep her from doing anything risky."

  "I'm not sure she'll listen to me," he grumbled. "You never do."

  "That's not true. I listen to you." She'd had this conversation before, although it had been with Tate. She did listen to her friends. She just didn't always do what they—or anyone else—wanted her to do. "Tell Rebecca that I'm working on some other leads, and if they don't pan out by tomorrow, she can go back to the B&B then. For now, the best thing she can do is stay away so as not to tip off anyone that we might be on to them."

  "I won't let you down, Ms. Binney," Jack said. "Do you need a ride home?"

  Helen checked the time on her phone. Almost 5:00. Tate should be leaving soon for dinner at her cottage, and it would only require a tiny detour for him to swing by the House of Sambo to pick her up. Asking for a ride would also be a good way to make sure Tate didn't spend his whole night either working at the office or worrying at home. "No, thanks. I'm all set. It's getting late, so you might as well take Rebecca home and call it a day."

  Helen disconnected the call and dialed Tate, who said he had one more thing to check before he could leave to pick her up, but he'd be at the House of Sambo within the hour.

  With some time to kill after she'd finished getting dressed, Helen headed for Kolya's office to have a chat with him.

  His door was open, so she peeked inside to see if he was busy. He was behind his desk, his elbows were propped on his desk, and he was holding his head in his hands. Probably worrying about going out of business. Which wouldn't be a problem if he'd just talk to Detective Almeida. Then she'd be able to clear him of suspicion and stop coming here, where her visits only served to remind the customers that someone had died on the premises.

  Helen knocked on the door.

  Kolya raised his head to reveal exhausted-looking eyes. "It is good to see you, Ms. Binney. Mia tells me you are learning the healthy breathing."

  "I am." Helen took a single step inside to where the air was heavy and still in the windowless space. She left the door open behind her to encourage what little circulation was possible with the little fresh air coming down the hallway. "I'm not sure Tai Chi will completely quash my occasional urge to hit something, but I've enjoyed the lessons. I seem to be Mia's only student, though. Is business really as bad as it looks?"

  "It is what it is." Kolya gave her a wan smile. "The good news is that I will soon be able to send for the matchmakers. You should be happy for me."

  "But this place is your dream," Helen said. "You shouldn't have to give it up to have a relationship."

  "It is the life," Kolya said with a fatalistic shrug.

  "It doesn't have to be. You need to fight for what you want."

  Kolya smiled and gestured in the direction of the mostly empty workout space. "There is no one for me to fight."

  "Not that kind of fighting. You told me yourself that the battle isn't really about hitting things. It's about perseverance. And breathing."

  "My breathing will not bring back my customers," Kolya said. "Especially after I've had garlicky pirozhki for lunch."

  "Now is not the time to get literal," Helen said. "I know you know what I meant. Your English is perfectly fine."

  "My English is not so fine as I would like," Kolya said. "I cannot do the articles properly. And my accent persists."

  "Barely. Now stop changing the subject, and tell me why you're giving up on the House of Sambo. You're not really doing it for Mia, because you could keep this place in business and still be with her if you wanted to."

  Kolya looked at his hands, his desk, the ceiling, everywhere except at Helen. She thought he was going to avoid answering again, and he was just trying to come up with a way to end the conversation without losing her as one of his few remaining customers.

  Footsteps in the corridor announced someone's approach. "See you tomorrow, Helen," Mia called through the open door on the way to her own office across the hall.

  Kolya watched until Mia closed her own door behind her.

  Helen ran out of what little patience she had for their mutual foolishness. "Almeida told me you hadn't talked to her yet about where you disappear to, so she can stop coming here and scaring away your customers. You don't have to tell me where you go, but you've got to tell her. You aren't the man I think you are if you let your secret ruin your dream and Mia's."

  "It is my English."

  "There's nothing wrong with your English," Helen snapped. "Detective Almeida will understand you just fine if you'll just go talk to her. I bet she'd even get a translator if you'd rather speak in your native language."

  "No, a translator is not necessary." He sighed. "I have been told I need to be less cryptic. No one ever gets my jokes."

  "Whoever told you that is right," Helen said. "It might help if you smiled when you're joking."

  "I will try that," he agreed. "I was not offering my English as an excuse. It is the secret that I did not wish to share with your Detective Almeida. When I go away, I visit a speech tutor. To make the English sound better. So students will understand instructions better during the training."

  "You don't need to go away for a week to get a speech lesson."

  "I also use the time for intensive physical training," he said. "The tutor is in Bennington, Vermont, and I get there by way of the Appalachian Trail."

  Helen had seen a few of the easier-to-traverse sections of the Appalachian National Scenic Trail. It offered some two thousand miles of hikers-only paths, starting in Georgia, passing through the Berkshire Hills of Massachusetts, and eventually ending in Maine.

  "You walk from Wharton to Bennington and back again? Through the mountains?" At a guess, it had to be at least forty miles each way. Helen had trouble walking forty yards on a flat surface these days, forget about forty miles.

  Kolya looked like he wanted to bolt from the room, but he stayed where he was and gave an embarrassed little nod.

  She advanced on his desk. "And you have someone—the speech tutor—who can confirm that's what you do?"

  Kolya hesitated this time as if considering his options before giving a single, sharp nod.

  Helen placed her hands on the edge of his desk and leaned over it, like an overzealous interrogator in a cop show, just in case her next question did cause him to reconsider his decision not to bolt. "And you didn't tell anyone? If I could hike like that, I'd be telling every single person on the planet."

  Kolya leaned back in
his chair and held his hands up in surrender. "I believe it is the good thing that I did not teach you to hit things, or you would be hitting me now."

  "Mia showed me how," Helen said. "And I will hit you if you don't call Almeida right now to tell her where you were during your absences."

  * * *

  As soon as Kolya picked up his phone, Helen stomped out of his office, although it wasn't easy to do with her limp. Her joints, loosened during the Tai Chi, were already tightening up again as she entered the open space where Van Taylor and his partner were still working out to the left of the hallway opening.

  Her brief period of calm acceptance was long gone, and the urge to hit something was rapidly obliterating the memory of how unsatisfying her session with the punching bag had been.

  She needed to do something. Something physical. She couldn't smack some sense into Kolya and Mia. She couldn't force a confession out of some as-yet-unidentified killer. She couldn't even get Tate to tell her what was bothering him.

  She couldn't do any of the things she'd really like to do, the things that might make a difference for her friends and herself. What she could do was hit something.

  She was angry and frustrated, but she was enough in control of herself to know she needed the proper equipment before she could vent her irritation on the punching bag.

  She was about to turn back toward Mia's office to ask about borrowing a pair of gloves when Danica's ex-sparring-partner, Ronny West, came through the main door, weaving a bit on his feet as he approached Helen. He shouted Kolya's name.

  "He's on the phone," she told him. "With the police."

  "Don't care. He owes me." Ronny peered down at Helen suspiciously. His words were slurred as he added, "So do you."

  "Me?"

  He tugged at the sling that limited the movement of his right arm. "Always interfering, nosing around in things that are none of your business."

  Helen tried to remember when Ronny said he'd been discharged from the hospital. Had he been out in time to have vandalized her car?