Can't Keep a Brunette Down (9 page)

"Why would you say that?" She set her pen down. Thayer had said
he
could
picture her stabbing a man through the heart.

"Like I said before, you're too nice." He disappeared down the hall. "Sit tight and catch your breath. I'll check things out."

He walked around to the back room and flipped on every light in the building as he went. When he returned, he left them all blazing. "I guess all you heard was a loose vent cover and Walter's ghost playing games."

She scowled. "That's not funny, Mick. It was no ghost. I saw someone and chased him out the back door." She stood and peered over her desk. Mick wore black strap sandals. Easy to put on in the car if he'd snuck in, but why would he? He, of all people, had every reason to be in the school.

"Stop staring at my feet. You're scaring me." He stepped back. "You're not going to stab me anyway, are you?"

"No." She returned to her chair, not sure what to do next.

He stalked across the dojo then peered out the back door before he returned and sat on the extra chair beside her. "What do you think he wanted?"

She hesitated as tears sprang to her eyes. The second chair was Walter's contribution to the school. When things were quiet, he enjoyed sitting next to her to learn everything he could about her job. To learn enough to run his own school.

Her eyes burned with tears. "Something I found after the murder."

Mick leaned back, eyebrows raised. "Something you failed to give the police? Sherlock, you astound me."

"I found a ring after the police left. Someone had taped it to the bottom of the bench you kicked. I gave it to Fabio." She pulled out her phone to show him the photo of the ring. "Is it yours?"

"No, but I have seen one like it before." Mick enlarged the image. "Send me the picture so I can ask around."

"Which would be great unless it belongs to the killer. Then he'd come after both of us."

"True." He forwarded the picture to his phone then handed her phone back. "Do you really think someone will ask about the ring if they killed him?"

"But why would someone hide the ring?"

"Are you sure someone taped it there? Maybe the tape was from something else. Maybe the ring fell off someone's finger and got stuck between the bench and the wall."

"Maybe." Gilda studied the photo of the engraved fist. "But in the heat we've had lately, my fingers have been so swollen I needed to soap my rings off for class so often, I just left them in a drawer at home. How would it slip off someone's finger?"

"Walter had just lost fifty pounds, hadn't he? He might have worn it on a chain until he could have it resized." He leaned forward. "It could've broken in the struggle. Did Thayer say anything about finding a chain?"

"They had no reason to look for one."

Mick jumped out of the chair. "The drain."

Gilda followed, convinced he was losing his mind. More so when he fell to all fours on the floor and leaned his face close to the tiles. "What are you doing?"

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and turned on a flashlight the size of her pinky. "There. See that?"

Just beneath the drain grate, something gleamed. She punched his shoulder. "By Jove, Watson. You've solved the case."

He snorted. "See if you can find something to help me get it out of there."

"I'm busy. You figure it out." Gilda dismissed his treasure hunt and returned to her desk. She suspected Mick was trying to keep her mind off things. The ring hadn't fallen from a chain. Someone had taped it to the bottom of the bench, and Mick jarred it loose when he had his tantrum.

He stalked past with a growl then disappeared into his office. When he came out a minute later, he carried a hammer and chisel.

She bowed her head and winced. Whatever mess he made, he'd expect her to clean up later. Within seconds, he banged the floor. She imagined shards flying off the tile floor and embedding into the wall but refused to go witness the destruction.

After five minutes of hammering, Mick let out a triumphant "aha." The hammer and chisel clattered to the floor before he ran around the corner and flung a delicate gold chain with a dirt-encrusted pendant on her desk. "Got it."

"Great." Gilda recoiled. The chain needed to be soaked in sanitizer or bagged and given to the police. "Whose is it?"

"Am I supposed to do everything around here?"

She would have thumped her head on the desk, but the grungy chain was in her way. "Of course not, Sensei. You've worked hard enough for one day."

"Don't forget to clean up in the back hallway. I left a bit of a mess."

Gilda had nothing to throw that wouldn't damage the wall if she missed.

Two minutes later, the shower started and goose bumps strolled up and down her arms. She knew Mick used the showers, but never with her in the building. Why hadn't he gone home, when he only lived a few blocks away?

Having done enough sleuthing for one day, Gilda turned off the computer. What she needed was to go home, have a light dinner, and sleep. She started down the hallway to clean up the mess, then stopped. Mick was still here. Childishly, she stuck her tongue out in his general direction and packed up to go home. For once, he could clean up his own mess.

Her gaze fell on the chain once more. Using hand sanitizer and a paper towel, she rubbed the dirt away from the swirled letters of the pendant.

"Chloe?" Gilda sat back. Mick had given Chloe the gold necklace for her last birthday. "She must have lost it after class one day."

She slid it onto a clean tissue and thought about bringing it to Fabio, then hesitated and dropped it on Mick's desk. Chloe could have lost the necklace a while ago. Just because it was in the drain…that didn't automatically make her a murderer. She left it untouched on the tissue then walked out of the school, leaving both the necklace and the mess for Mick.

 

Mid-Sunday morning Thayer sat across from Gilda in Café Beanz and flagged the waitress for a coffee. Puffy dark circles shadowed his eyes. "We have a lot to talk about."

She set aside her breakfast sandwich, her meager appetite squelched not only by Thayer's presence but the sight of Gary's car out front. "If you want to talk to me about Walter, I'll come down to the station. If this is personal, can it. I've heard everything from you I want to hear."

"How many times do I have to apologize?" he asked. "What else can I say? I'm sorry. I messed up."

"So you've said." She took the bag out of her tea.

"Then why won't you take me back?" His voice took on the hint of a whine. "We made a really great team."

She hugged her cup. "Experience. Like Happy says, 'A tiger never changes his spots.'"

"Doesn't he know tigers have stripes?" Thayer winced. "Since when have you ever taken dating advice from him?"

Gilda scowled and shot him a glare. "Around the same time you let the barista grind your beans behind the counter."

His bronze face deepened to burnt umber. "That was a one-time thing."

"Yeah. The one time I caught you. Before that, she sweetened your coffee for six months." She met his sour glare. "I know about the other girls too, Thayer. The blonde from the quilt shop. The redhead from the ice cream shop. The Goth girl from Happy's. The yoga teacher from Erie.

"I'm a changed man, Gilda." When the waitress set his coffee on the table, he leaned over to watch her walk away.

Gilda grimaced. "Yeah, that's blatantly obvious."

He held out both hands. "What? I'm a man who appreciates a woman's natural assets. Is that a crime?"

"Only if you're dating me at the time. Go ahead and do whatever you want." She slid out of the booth, taking her leftover food and coffee. "You're not my problem, and you haven't been for years."

"I'm serious, Gilda. You should really reconsider. We made a great team. All those other women meant nothing. You were the only person who made me feel good about myself. That little house we looked at just came on the market again."

She stopped. "The only thing you and I made well together were headlines right after I threw you into a fifty-pound bag of coffee beans and split your scalp open with the grinder."

Chuckles erupted from other patrons. One lady even applauded.

"You really need to get over it." Thayer frowned. "You've always had a bad temper. That girl left me, you know."

"Good for her. So did I." Gilda handed her sandwich to the waitress and asked for it to go. "In case you haven't noticed, Thayer, I've done pretty well since I kicked you to the curb. I wouldn't take you back even if you begged and bought me a pink Porsche."

She turned to walk away but only got as far as the next booth.

"What about Mick?" he asked.

Gilda had a perfectly good explanation for "What about Mick?" She'd practiced it in front of her bathroom mirror every night for a year until she'd convinced herself of all the reasons Mick Williams was off limits in her personal life. He never listened to her. He made her do all the work yet took all the praise. He was only gorgeous on the outside. He was more bull-headed than Gilda.

"What about Mick?" Thayer asked again.

"Mick won't date you either."

A man at the counter applauded. "Good for you, honey. You tell him."

"I don't need your approval, Fabio," she said.

Fabio sat hunched over his coffee. "Probably not. From your sudden departure, I take it my partner asked a few questions about Walter you didn't like."

She took her wrapped sandwich from the waitress. "He didn't ask any questions about Walter. All he wants is for me to drop my defenses and take him back."

"Huh." He shoved the last of a Danish into his mouth. "It's not good to let one's lust cloud their judgment. Have a seat. I'll ask the questions he was supposed to."

"Like I told your lunatic partner, I'll go to the station to answer any questions you both have," she said. "For now, I have other things to do."

Fabio nodded. "The karate school's closed until after the funeral, and you're stuck here for the weekend and have no family to tend to. What's so pressing?"

"My life. Good-bye, Fabio."

He stirred his coffee. "I see. Good-bye, Gilda. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast. Don't choke on your guilt."

She left the café daydreaming about dumping scalding coffee over both their heads.

"You seem to be a social butterfly early today." Gary's deep voice startled her. "Thayer and Fabio aren't stupid enough to think someone like you could kill Walter, are they?"

She walked around the front of his car. "No."

"Then Thayer must be trying to win you back again." He grinned when her mouth dropped open. "Don't look so surprised. I hear a lot of things in my business."

Gilda stopped near the driver's window. "What do you want with me?"

"Actually, I was watching them." He pointed up the street.

Mick and Chloe stood in front of the school in heated discussion. Chloe scowled and thrust a handful of papers at Mick then shoved past him. Mick remained in front of the school, mouth agape, staring after her yellow Ferrari when she sped away. He flipped through the papers and cursed, kicking the brick wall before he disappeared inside the school.

"Now there's a man with things to hide," Gary said.

"Tell it to the police. They're inside." Gilda scuttled to the far side of the street. She would have felt sorry for Mick but figured whatever happened was likely his fault anyway. As much as she wanted to know what was going on, she wasn't ready for another confrontation so soon after seeing Thayer.

Things around Sandstone Cove were getting stranger by the minute.

 

At five that evening Mick pushed his way into Gilda's ten-by-ten-foot living room, accompanied by the scent of alcohol, and shut the door behind him. When he locked it and turned to face her, Gilda's knees quivered. He closed the gap between them, panting like he'd run the entire way from his condo, and paused to catch his breath. The room suddenly seemed more claustrophobic than cozy.

"What are you doing?" She eased away from his muscular body, inching toward the kitchen sure she was about to die. If he did anything crazy, at least she could stun him with a frying pan. A rolling pin would work too, if she had one.

"You have to help me, Gilda. My heart is beating like crazy, and I can't breathe. I don't know what to do." He peered out the living room window. "I think someone wired my phone and is trying to kill me."

"Wired your phone? What are you…?" She paused. "Do you mean a wiretap? You think someone tapped your phone?" She took five whole seconds to revel in understanding, then frowned. "Someone tapped your phone? Are you sure?"

He clutched the curtains closed with one hand. "I never told Erik or Xavier about the new karate school or the lawsuit against Walter. Erik knew about both. Funny thing is, they're not the only ones who know."

"Probably not," she said. "What lawsuit against Walter?"

"You're different."

She grimaced. "Gee, thanks. Now, what lawsuit?"

Mick rolled his eyes and crossed the room. "What I mean is, you're not likely to run around town blabbing to everyone. If I told Xavier, he'd tell his ex-wife, and she'd tell everyone who set foot in her salon. If I told Chloe, she'd run straight home to Daddy, and I'd be f…screwed."

"Not necessarily." All the things she'd told Xavier's wife in confidence came back to haunt her. Nothing about the black belts, just her own pathetic life. "What lawsuit?"

"Trust me. You don't want to know." He dropped onto the flowery couch she'd inherited from her great-aunt. The springs squeaked, and Mick sank about four inches lower than she normally did. His foot tapped against the hardwood floor in no particular rhythm. "What's wrong with your couch?"

"It's old. Antique, actually."

"You need to buy a new one."

"You don't pay me enough," she said.

Mick glanced up, probably to make sure she was kidding.

Gilda was completely serious. "How would anyone tap your phone? I wouldn't even know how or where to buy the bug. Wouldn't they have to have access to your cell phone?"