Hardheaded Brunette (13 page)

"Yeah, I know. He tells me that every time I go into the store."

"I hear the new school has opened and you have some interesting new teachers and classes," he said.

She frowned. "You know pretty much everyone in town. Have you heard anything more from the M.E. about Charlie Hunt's death?"

"The guy you found on Ponderer's Point?" He sat on one of the chairs normally for chats with his patients. "Since you're asking questions, does this mean you've gone back to being the nosy Gilda I know and love? You know I could get you a job in a nice, quiet quilt shop."

Her face burned. "Fabio and Thayer haven't arrested anyone yet, but they brought Razi in for interrogation last night. I thought if you could tell me how Charlie died, maybe I could help."

Doc studied her then, after a long moment, sighed. "You're bound to find out sooner or later anyway. Someone bashed his head in with a big rock."

She raised her eyebrows, unable to recall seeing rocks near the crime scene. "How big?"

"Big enough an average-sized person like you would need two hands to lift it that high." He adjusted the sling over her elbow. "Of course, most of the people you work with aren't exactly average, most of them can pick up cars and small boulders."

She nodded, surprised he'd given her any information. After the murders in the summer, he'd clammed up and hadn't shared anything with her until she'd been poisoned.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Gilda." He met her gaze. "I just want you to be careful who you place your trust in."

"I do trust Mick and Razi," she said. "Kane and Mena, not so much."

"Mena?" Doc's back stiffened as he raised his gray eyebrows. "I know that name. Where have I heard it before?"

Gilda snorted. "She's the new yoga teacher at the Phoenix. She's pretty, she's athletic, and she's meaner than a nest of wasps. She's also the reason I hurt my shoulder."

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze. "Is she tall with long, dark hair?"

"Yup. I take it you, along with every other hot-blooded male in Sandstone Cove, have already noticed her."

"She's pretty hard to miss," he said. "Especially when people heard her arguing with some guy who winds up dead hours later."

Gilda gasped as her mouth dropped open. "You saw her arguing with Charlie?"

Doc reached for the jar of peppermints on his desk and offered her one. "The night before you found Charlie's body, I saw him with Mena in the hospital parking lot having a very loud argument."

"Do you know what they were fighting about?" Her hands grew clammy.

"Not really, but they threw the names Kane and Mick around a lot." He tossed two mints into his mouth. "I did hear her threaten to expose something he'd done to someone who sounded important. Charlie said if she did, he'd kill her." He hesitated. "Literally."

"What do you mean?"

Doc winced. "He told her he would bash her face in and leave her deep in the woods for the wildlife so no one could ever identify her."

"That's pretty literal." She shuddered. "Seems to me that's pretty much what happened, only to Charlie on the beach. Do you think maybe Mena got to him first, when he least expected it?"

"Maybe, but only if she had a bigger, stronger accomplice who overheard them and helped her out."

Gilda closed her eyes and sighed. "Somebody like Kane."

"He'd be my best bet." Doc hesitated. "I'm sorry I lied to you the other day without realizing I did so, Gilda. I'd met Charlie before. His grandmother, Mildred Palmer, was one of my patients. Sweet lady, but I worried about her. I wrote a prescription for her rashes and it seemed the pills would be gone in no time. Once when I talked to Charlie, he said she forgot where she put them or threw them out by mistake."

"Was that normal?"

Doc frowned. "For patients with dementia? Yes. For Mildred? No. That lady had a mind like a bear trap. She remembered every single prescription I'd ever given her and the birthdates of all my staff, yet she lost her steroid medication monthly. She suffered from rheumatoid arthritis, not Alzheimer's."

Steroids? With Charlie's background in fighting and coaching fighters, could his death have something to do with prescription steroids? Gilda narrowed her eyes. "Could someone have stolen them, and she only thought she'd lost them?"

Doc sat back. "I'm not sure I like what you're insinuating."

Her face burned. "Yeah, I know. I have a record of accusing people of stealing things when they didn't, especially one of your former nurses."

"That incident with Mrs. Watson
does
come to mind." He smiled. "And you are injured. I assume you haven't taken any hallucinogens or anything to numb the pain this time, however."

"No, I haven't taken anything. It was just a crazy thought." She toyed with the finger end of her sling. "Charlie did deal with fighters and I imagine he came to visit Mildred when he had the chance. Maybe he drugged them, placed bets against them, and made a killing."

Doc stared past her. "So you think this is about money and greed?"

"Greed. Lust. Control." She reached for her purse. "What else are murders usually over?"

"In the world of professional fighting? Offhand, I'd say drugs and money." Doc nodded slowly. "I guess you could ask Mick. He'd know if any of Charlie's guys were juicing."

"Juicing?"

"Taking steroids."

Gilda nodded. "Yeah, I know. The topic's come up lately. How would you know if someone was taking steroids?"

Doc turned to his computer. "It depends on the amount they were taking. In Mildred's case, the dose was insignificant. Someone who took them for more nefarious reasons would develop some serious anger issues, for one. Keep in mind we're not talking minute doses. These guys would have to take doses far larger than a small pill a day for rashes or joint pains."

"Is it normal to give someone steroids for rashes or arthritis?"

"Mildred was allergic to a lot of ingredients drug companies put in creams. The tablets seemed to give her relief, and I monitored her carefully. Plus, she preferred pills to needles."

"I don't blame her." Gilda frowned.

Doc shook his head. "Uh-oh. I know that look. If you think Mildred got so many refills so Charlie could sell them, you're wrong."

Not quite what she'd had in mind. More like Mildred had filled her prescriptions then Charlie stole them for his fighters. "How would you know she didn't?"

"Charlie was the family black sheep. He visited his grandma more out of obligation than love. Whenever he was here, he grumbled the whole time he took her to do her errands. It got to the point she bawled him out in front of everyone in my waiting room one day when he complained she took too long for her appointment."

"Interesting." Gilda bowed her head, pretending to feel sheepish for even entertaining the thought. Meanwhile, ideas tumbled all over each other like beads in a kaleidoscope. Did Charlie steal Mildred's pills, and what did she do about it? "I'd better go. Thanks for humoring me."

Doc chuckled. "Gilda, honey, that's what I do best."

By the time she returned to the school, yoga class had ended. The school was empty, except for Mick and Razi, and she guessed everyone had gone to get ready for Charlie's funeral. Mick held a large foam shield while Razi threw a variety of punches and kicks that would have knocked her across the room. Every so often Mick and Razi stopped and exchanged comments. After several minutes, Mick nodded to Gilda, although she was pretty sure he'd seen her the second she returned.

He set the blocker aside and sent Razi toward the heavy bag before he approached her. "A sling? What did Doc say is wrong with your arm?"

Gilda sighed. "I'm okay. It's exactly what Kane said. I need to take it easy for a while. Let it rest and heal. The sling is just overkill so I don't do anything dumb."

Mick frowned. "Maybe you should take a week off work. Not that I don't want or need you here, but…"

"No. I'm okay. I'll just modify things until I feel better."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" He pulled her close. "With everything that's going on since Charlie died, it might be for the best if you took a few days away."

Gilda's jaw dropped. "You don't want me asking questions and nosing around, do you?"

He shook his head. "Babe, it's not that."

"You think I'm going to cause trouble, don't you?"

Mick ran a hand through his hair. "Gilda, can we talk about this later, please? In private?" He leaned on the front desk, still holding on to her waist. "Look, after the funeral, I'm coming back here tonight until nine. Why don't I pick up a late dinner and we can talk then."

"Talk about what?" she asked.

"Charlie's death. Kane and Mena."

She forced a smile. "Dinner sounds good."

"Thai okay?" Mick tucked two fingers into the neckline of her shirt. "Followed by a little one-on-one time."

"Thai will be fine." Gilda's knees threatened to buckle as he kissed her.

"Good." He flashed a small smile. "Why don't you tidy up your desk then go home and rest that shoulder. I'll take care of things here and we can hang out later."

Her entire body buzzed with the aftereffects of his passionate kiss. Why had she doubted him? When Mick headed toward his office, she sat and blew out a slow breath. Fabio and Thayer could worry about Charlie's murder. She had a hot date with a handsome man to get ready for.

Oh, and a funeral.

Gilda put on her pearl earrings, wincing at the pain in her upper back before she let out a slow breath. She'd attended far too many funerals over the summer and was less than thrilled about attending one for a man she didn't even know. Still, she had enough morbid curiosity to know more about the former fighter and coach everyone seemed to love and hate all with the same breath. That, and Mick had called to request her presence.

When the doorbell rang at ten thirty, she winced. Mick said he'd pick her up at quarter to eleven. Either he was early or she had other company. She dropped the sling Doc had ordered her to wear next to her purse and smoothed out her skirt with one hand.

Kane stood outside her front door, wearing a tailored suit and dark sunglasses. He looked more like a member of the Secret Service than a lunatic with a sword collection. "Looks like you're pretty good at getting dressed with one arm tied behind your back. What else can you do with one arm tied behind your back?"

"Funny." She shifted her weight and glanced around him to the street. "Where's Mick?"

Kane shrugged. "No idea, love. He told me to meet him here."

No way she was about to let him inside her house. "Let me get my purse and we can wait on the front porch."

"Right." He leaned in the doorway, peering over the rim of his sunglasses. "Good to see your house is much neater today. Your maid doesn't do such a bad job after all."

"I don't have a maid." Gilda narrowed her eyes, still uncertain if he'd had anything to do with the break-in at her house. While she didn't want to turn her back on him, she needed to get her purse and the sling since Mick would arrive any minute. She hoped.

"Your friend Thayer really doesn't like me, does he, love?" Kane asked, his voice soft.

"Why would you say that?"

He sighed. "He follows me around town and slaps handcuffs on me every chance he gets."

Gilda shook her head. "You're exaggerating."

"Oh yeah? He's parked outside right now." When he nodded toward the street, Gilda followed his gaze. Sure enough, Thayer sat in a dark sedan sipping from a paper coffee cup with a newspaper open in front of him.

"Maybe he likes you," she said.

Kane raised his eyebrows. "What? You think he fancies me, love?"

"No, I meant—"

"You could be right." He pushed back his hair and tossed his head. "It's not just the sheilas who like a pretty face and hot body."

Her eyes widened, seconds before she burst into laughter. "What?"

Kane straightened his tie. "Don't get me wrong, love. I'm not into guys, but if you think me giving him a cheap thrill will help, I guess I could play along for a wee bit."

"Don't do that, Kane. I was only joking. He'll probably arrest you just to make a point."

"No worries, love. I won't mess with him." He grinned and turned away. "Much."

Kane strolled toward Thayer's car then leaned close to the driver's window. As Kane spoke, Thayer's face reddened then became pale. He scowled for seconds then started the car and sped off down the street, narrowly missing Kane's shiny black shoes with the back tire.

Kane turned around holding both hands out to his sides with a broad grin. Suddenly, his glory faded and his grin turned sheepish. He bowed his head and met up with Mick at Gilda's front gate.

Mick shook his head. "Classy."

Gilda covered her mouth to hide her smile then grabbed her purse and wrap. She left the house in time to hear Mick's warning to Kane to behave himself while they were at Charlie's funeral or else. After Mick helped Gilda with her sling, they walked to the funeral home together.

"I know he means well." Mick entwined Gilda's fingers in his while Kane lagged behind. "But some days I want to smack him back into yesterday."

"You know I can hear you, right?" Kane asked.

"Good." Mick squeezed Gilda's hand.

She patted his arm. "I'm sure someone will take him out of our hair after the service."

"Yeah." Mick snorted. "Probably the cops again."

Kane chuckled. "Definitely not Thayer."

Fabio met them at the front door of the funeral home. He nodded then directed them toward the far room. "Charlie's service is in the chapel. His family took over the first four rows, but everyone else is standing at the back of the room. I've never seen anything like it."

When Gilda walked inside she was stunned to see Fabio hadn't exaggerated. The first four rows of pews were filled to capacity. The other seats remained empty while everyone else congregated across the back wall of the chapel as if they were part of a police lineup.

Mena gave a small finger wave and flashed a syrupy smile from where she stood across the room with Gary. While Gary seemed fixated on Mena and didn't even glance Gilda's way, Mena winced and tried to motion them over discreetly.