Design on a Crime

by Ginny Aiken

  Detective Tsu was teaching the class.

  If my presence surprised her as much as hers did me, she didn't show it on her exquisite Asian face. She didn't acknowledge me but instead went right into the lesson.

  As a measure of how far I'd come the last few years, I was able to focus and forget the detective's presence until everyone bowed at the end of the session.

  Since I didn't want her to think she scared the stuffing out of me or that I had anything to hide, I approached her as the room emptied of other students.

  "Good morning. I'm surprised to see you here."

  Detective Tsu arched a brow. "I've taught this class for three years."

  "Well, I usually come at night, but now that I don't have much to keep me busy..." I shrugged. "I'd rather keep my evenings free."

  "Ah ... an active social life."

  Whenever I'm nervous I laugh, so I laughed. Once I settled down to chortles, I said, "Yeah, right. I have a standing date with two guys every night."

  Her eyes opened wide in obvious shock.

  Aha! I'd caught her off guard. "One's a really, really furry blond who likes to cuddle after cozy Eukanuba dinners, and the other's my dad."

  "Okay." The detective headed for the showers. "I'm glad we got that straight."

  The woman made me antsy. Not only could she ruin my life if she bungled the investigation into Marge's murder, but she also lacked a vital personal component-she had no sense of humor. Fine. I'd try a different, more direct tack.

  I followed her into the locker room. 'Any news?"

  "What kind of news would you like, Ms. Farrell?"

  I stopped pulling pins from my hair. 'Are you kidding me? You practically accused me of killing my mentor the last time we spoke, and now you want to know what kind of news I want?"

  The cop shrugged, but her gaze said there was nothing blase about her. She had the upper hand.

  "Fine. You want me to put it in so many words? Well, I'm no coward." Oh, sure. And if I say it enough times I might someday believe it too. "Do you have the results of Marge's autopsy? Have you learned anything new?"

  My heart beat so hard I could hardly breathe.

  Detective Tsu let me sweat-I really had to be more careful what I wished for. This wasn't the kind of sweating I'd look forward to when I came to the dojo. She turned toward the bank of lockers and clicked in a combination. She then took out a classy leather duffel bag and a soft cream and gold cosmetics case. Without another look my way, she went to the nearest shower, set her bags on the bench at its side, and rummaged through her belongings.

  I felt like dumping her fancy stuff on the floor so she could find what she wanted and then answer my questions. But like a good little Tai Chi student, I kept my cool.

  Finally, with a thick ivory towel hung from the hook on the wall and coordinated French-perfume toiletries in hand, Detective Tsu walked into the shower.

  That was rude. "I did ask you a question, and in view of my position, I don't think I'm out of line. The least you could do is-"

  "The least I can do," she said, curtain in hand, "is to remember I'm a professional. I can't discuss an ongoing investigation, and I'm sure you've watched enough TV to know that. Even scriptwriters don't have a detective share data with-"

  "The prime suspect." Now I knew I had the top of their list all to myself. "Don't let me keep you. Take your shower. We wouldn't want even a whiff of impropriety to hang around you."

  Again, her eyes widened, and it was all I could do to keep from smacking my forehead. How could I let this ice princess rattle me like that? I had to get a grip if I was to keep myself out of jail.

  I snagged my army surplus duffel bag and left before I pulled another dumb stunt. Like a homing pigeon, I shot straight for my car.

  I almost made it too. Tyler blocked the dojo door.

  "You can't get behind the wheel right now. We have to talk."

  Sometimes being a grown-up is a royal pain. "You're right. I'm too mad to handle a lethal weapon."

  I collapsed into the very American overstuffed couch in Tyler's office. He loves all things Asian, as the shelf of fabulous carvings and the framed watercolors on the room's walls shows. But the sensei also loves his creature comforts-he draws the line at sitting with clients on a mat-covered floor.

  He took the corner opposite me. "I won't ask what got you like this. So why don't you explain that murder one thing."

  "It's all the same." A familiar sensation clawed to life in the pit of my stomach. "Why didn't you tell me you had a hotshot cop teaching lessons?"

  "Why didn't you ask?"

  "Okay. You want me to be reasonable, but you know? I'm way past that. Did you read yesterday's paper?"

  He waved toward his desk. "It's somewhere in here. I didn't get a chance to look at it. Mei-Li fussed all day long, and Sarah got called in to an emergency surgery."

  Tyler's five-month-old daughter is a sweetie, but teething isn't going well.

  "Sorry. As bad as it must have been, it doesn't come close to the grim content in my last two days."

  "So? When are you going to tell me? I know whatever's got hold of you is bad. I've watched you long enough now to know when something's exploded on you."

  "That's putting it mildly." I fought the nausea, squared my shoulders, pressed the palms of my hands against my knees. I took a couple of even breaths. "Someone killed Marge on Wednesday. And I was the one who found her."

  The first curse I'd ever heard him utter ripped from Tyler's mouth. His eyes turned cold, scary, and the smooth brown skin on his cheeks tightened.

  "Why didn't you call me?" His voice was soft, yet I knew my failure to turn to him bothered him, maybe even hurt.

  My exasperated sigh blew loose hair from my forehead. "Because I didn't have time to even think. As if that wasn't bad enough, Marge left me everything-all that money, the business, even that new cedar, glass, and steel house of hers."

  "And Lila thinks you did it."

  "I guess you know her pretty well."

  "I do, but it's a standard thing to suspect whoever benefits most from the murder." He fiddled with the exercise ball he kept at hand. "It's also common for them to look at the husband in these cases. I bet Lila's giving Steve Norwalk a hard time too."

  I studied the cranes in the watercolor over his head. "Last I heard, he was out of town since Wednesday at a teacher's seminar or something. That's why he missed the Gerrity sale. That sounds to me like a pretty good alibi."

  Tyler stood, and out the corner of my eye, I noticed his frown. "I don't know why you're so upset. It's not a matter of alibis or anything. You didn't hurt Marge, and soon enough Lila's going to realize it. So chill."

  I stood and paced from one end of the room to the other. "You don't understand. It's not just that. But I'll tell you, your friend, Detective Lila Tsu? She's a pretty scary character."

  Tyler smiled and crossed his arms.

  I ignored his reaction. "On top of everything else, the mansion's off-limits. It's the scene of a crime, and the police have it cordoned off. It can't be sold, so Noreen Daventry can't buy it. Since she can't buy it, she can't hire me to redesign it. Since she can't hire me-"

  "I get the picture. But come on. I'm sure you can get a job or two if you really try. It might not be as flashy as that big old place, but fixing up a basement family room will pay some bills."

  "The Stokers did hire me to do their living and dining rooms." Why did I keep forgetting the couple who'd be my first real customers? "I should call them and take a look at the space."

  When Tyler didn't respond, I shot him a glance. Uh-oh. I knew that look. It was the one that announced outgoing questions.

  "What's the real problem, Haley?" he asked. "Is this too close to what happened four years ago?"

  My hard-won progress vanished. I again felt my attacker's strength. I don't think I screamed, but I might have, because a sharp sound rang out. All I knew was pain and fear.

  My ears buzzed. I shivered. I wrapp
ed my arms around me, but they couldn't protect me. A gentle force at my back moved me forward. Like a robot, I went. I was told to sit. I did.

  Desperation almost smothered me, but its return somehow made me react. From somewhere deep inside, I dredged up a spark of anger. That I could handle, so I clung to the flicker. I could beat the confusion, pain, and fear if I stoked the flicker into a full-blown furnace blaze.

  I opened my eyes. At first, the red walls made me think real flames surrounded me. Then slowly I remembered where I was. The dojo ... Tyler ...

  "She was helpless!" My words came out raw; my throat felt even more so. "He hit her from behind."

  I cried. Big, gulping, convulsive sobs tore through me. Stinging tears poured down my cheeks. I couldn't stand to think that the woman who'd stood by me and helped me find footing-find myself-after I went through living hell had now been subjected to the ultimate victimization.

  After a while I brought my misery under control. I wiped my cheeks with the backs of my hands, shoved my hair out of my face. Again I clung to the rage, and with its help I stood.

  I looked at Tyler. His expression showed concern. "I'm okay," I said. 'As okay as I can be, considering the circumstances."

  He didn't believe me.

  My wry grimace changed nothing. But I was going to be okay. I didn't know when or how, but I had been down this road before.

  I've learned a lot. Thanks to Tyler, my body can withstand a lot more now than before I met him, but only if I use my head. I had to focus on what mattered.

  The top to my gi had become twisted somewhere along the line, and I straightened it. I usually showered and changed after class, but no way was I going to risk another face-to-face with Detective Tsu. Anger kicked in again.

  Good. That would help me focus. "Tell you what, sensei. I'm not going to let your fellow instructor shut me up in jail. And I'm not going to let her build such a crummy case that whoever killed Marge gets away with it."

  "Really?"

  Tyler's mild tone spurred me. "Yeah, really. Last time, the cops and the court messed up big time, and that creep got off with just a slap on his hand. This time, I'm going to make sure justice happens."

  "And how are you going to do it?"

  That tripped me up for half a heartbeat. "I'm not a cop, but I can pester them until they do their job. Then I can bug the prosecutor until his case is airtight. The jury and the jail can do the rest."

  "Hmm ... so you're going to become a one-woman ultimate judge."

  "Someone has to. Look at what happened to me."

  "What makes you think that ultimate judge isn't already on the job and that he doesn't do it better than you ever could?"

  "Don't start with all that God stuff again, Tyler. I know where you and Dad stand, but until you've crawled through the pit I got shoved in, don't tell me how just and good and ... and ... whatever else you say God is."

  He lowered his head, and I could tell he was praying. It made me uncomfortable, but I couldn't ask him to stop when I didn't want him to ask me to start.

  I thought I heard a whispered amen.

  "Let me know when you let him catch you in those warm, strong, loving arms of his again," he said.

  My breath caught. I didn't have words to reject his. Something about them made me sad. As if I wasn't already sad enough.

  I grabbed my duffel bag and opened the office door.

  "God bless you, Haley."

  I once treasured those words so freely given by my devout Christian parents and friends. But after God left me at the mercy of a monster, I no longer give them much weight.

  "Don't hold your breath." I closed the door, hurried through the lobby, and burst into the drizzly, gray day. I didn't want to meet Detective Tsu again, nor even the nice women I'd met before class. I was too ... too ... I didn't have the words to express all I felt. One feeling I could identify.

  I couldn't remember ever feeling this alone.

  I drove away.

  For the last six months, Saturday mornings meant a crowded store with fussy furniture buyers. They do no more. Now Saturday's about to become a worse form of torture. I have to cross the parking lot between the manse and the church and preside over the missionary society. I know nothing about their business, even though I know the members pretty well.

  After my close encounter with Tyler's faith the day before, I dreaded today's meeting more than I otherwise would have. If possible.

  For a nanosecond I wished I could beg off and go sell bilious couches to people with too much money and too little taste. But then an especially unfortunate episode with a wellheeled woman who loved all things orange and plum came to mind.

  "That's a quick cure," I told Midas. I doubted Penny Harham would approve of my dog's presence at the meeting, but the other ladies had asked me to bring him along. The Golden One is a favorite with Dad's flock.

  "Well, it's about time you got here," Penny groused the moment I opened the door to Room A. "Your tardiness is more proof of your lack of interest in the society's business."

  Ina Appleton smacked a white china mug of coffee in front of the postal clerk, but in an even, pleasant voice she said, "It's exactly nine oh two, Penny. The society's meetings have never started less than fifteen minutes late. Please give our new president the benefit of the doubt."

  Penny pursed her lips. 'And whose fault are the late starts, Mrs. Hospitality Chair in Perpetuity? I've never seen coffee perk as slow as when you make it."

  "The urn's not as young as it used to be," Ina replied. Her tight smile showed what it cost to keep the peace. "Just like the rest of us."

  Penny stiffened. "Speak for yourself. There are those of us who pride ourselves on our young-at-heart spirits."

  'And it's for the well-being of our spirits," Gussie said, "that we meet to consider the needs of the missionaries we support."

  Wow. Impressive. Those sweetly voiced, gentle words had sure packed a punch. Penny's leather-tanned cheeks turned the color of bricks.

  A rousing cheer rose from the far end of the table. "Go get 'em, Gussie girl!"

  Bella Cahill is one of the most outspoken people I've ever met. She's also a true original, and she proves it every chance she gets. Four months ago she celebrated her seventieth birthday. That day she showed up in church with her hair cut into a choppy Hollywood style and dyed magenta. In spite of repeated efforts to return it to its initial glory, the moppy mess has now faded to an odd shade of Pepto-Bismol pink.

  "How's it going, Haley?" she asked.

  "I'm okay"

  She ogled my outfit. "Like your shorts. I think I'll go get me a pair just like 'em when we're done here."

  I looked from my bike shorts to the pudgy woman. As beautiful as Bella had once been, and we all knew she'd graced the cover of every fashion magazine in her day, the decades had melted the lean and elegant lines to Michelinman rolls. But if Bella wanted her Rubenesque thighs stuffed into bike shorts, more power to her. In the Seattle area, even senior citizens can look ... unique and nobody will look twice.

  "Bella Cahill," Penny chided. 'Act your age."

  Well, almost nobody.

  "Hey!" the offended party yelped. "Didn't you just say you were young at heart? Well? How young is that?"

  Gussie gave a ladylike ahem. "Penny, I'm sure that Bella will find appropriate shorts. Besides, that's not the reason we're here. The Randalls' efforts are bearing wonderful fruit. The school has grown faster than they thought it would, and now they need to add an eighth grade. What would be the best way to fund textbooks and other supplies?"

  My admiration for Gussie, always great, was now eclipsed by my gratitude. I had no clue how to handle the missionary society, but she'd calmly and sweetly taken the reins and run with it. All I had to do was offer an occasional uh-huh and scratch Midas's head each time he begged, which was often.

  I let the murmur of women's voices lull me into a thoughtful state. Because of the way I wound up with my unexpected inheritance, I don't want it.
But I can't just refuse it. True, I don't have to use it, but then, what's the point of letting it all go to waste? Especially when people like the Randalls can use it to help little kids in terrible need. I can see why Mom had devoted so much time to the missionary society.

  All of a sudden, I noticed the shrieking silence. Every eye skewered me. Penny in particular wore an 1-had-canary-forbreakfast smile.

  It sure looked like I, on the other hand, had trouble for my midmorning snack. When no one spoke, I turned to Gussie. "What? What'd I do?"

  Penny snorted.

  Gussie blushed.

  Bella whistled. "You hit the jackpot!"

  "Huh?"

  Gussie tsk-tsked. "Oh, Bella. That's a terrible thing to say. Marge is dead, and you know how much Haley loved her."

  So much for my lull. The grief was back in spades.

  "True," Bella said, unrepentant. "But that love never really croaks, ya know? Money's just for stuff this side of heaven. Think of all she can do with all that dough. It's not as if Marge was snuffed and no one'll be the wiser to her life. Haley loved-loves-her, and she can even come up with memorials or something like that." Bella beamed bright blue eyes on me. "So what're you gonna do with all the bucks?"

  Talk about being put on the spot. "I haven't given it a thought. I just want to help the police find the killer."

  If my ears didn't deceive me, Penny muttered, 'A likely story."

  Bella's cheeks turned rosy. "Woo-hoo! Can I help? I'd be real good at it too. I've got every last episode of Murder, She Wrote on tape and a copy of every single book on my bookshelf. I've even got Angela Lansbury's autograph on a couple of 'em."

  "Bella, that's just a TV show. I'm not going to do anything like that. I just meant that I'm cooperating with the police investigation. That's all."

  Bella's smile went south. "Oh. Well, it was a good idea."

  "Why don't we close in prayer?" Gussie asked, her smile full of sympathy for me. "I'll take the lead today, ladies."

  I hadn't foreseen this, and if Tyler's prayers had made me uncomfortable, Gussie's sincere thanks and praise made me feel like the worst kind of heel. How had I let a cotton-fluff bully rope me into this goofy presidency?