Death of a Jaded Samurai (18 page)

Gilda hadn't thought to look up
any
of the black belts on the Internet, let alone Walter. She made a note. Since the ring was a dead end, she needed a new source of information.

Another mom gasped. "I never would've thought he'd do such a thing. Gilda, did you know about any of this?"

Gilda shook her head. "No, I—"

"Everyone has secrets, don't they? We can't blame you. It's not like Sensei Walter talked about his past to anyone." The mom walked away.

"Come to think of it, neither did Sensei Mick," Marion said. "You know, honey, I think that man owes us an explanation. We should know if the people who teach these kids are actually fit to do so. Do you guys run police checks on them?"

"They were all here before me." Gilda wished she could leave the school long before any confrontations occurred, but it wasn't meant to be.

The semipeaceful evening turned into an explosion of accusations and finger-pointing the instant Mick stepped out of the dojo. Questions flew through the air like missiles, and the parents circled around Mick, leaving him nowhere to hide.

He turned to Gilda, who ducked behind the desk. Since he'd left her with a dead body, she planned to dump all the angry parents on him. To his credit, he listened to all their complaints, then promised them all a discount for the following month. Great public relations for him, but a logistical nightmare for Gilda.

"Thanks a lot," she muttered as she tidied up. "I should be able to sort all that out in a week or two."

Mick shrugged. "It'll all work out. Remind them we have sixty students, and they just have to be patient. Send them to talk to me if they get out of hand."

"I think they've had a lot of patience so far," she said. "After the long weekend and two days without classes, they haven't had a lot of information except—"

"Gilda?" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Go home. It's all over. Walter's buried, Thayer has a good idea who killed Walter, and it's time for us to move on."

"Whoa. Thayer knows who killed Walter? How do you know that?" she asked.

"He met me at the deli for lunch. He's waiting for some test results to prove his theory that Erik killed Walter."

"Why didn't he say anything when I saw him earlier?"

"Maybe he didn't think you needed to know." Mick caught her in a hug. "Go home, Sherlock. Tomorrow things will be back to normal, and the most stressful thing you'll have to worry about is what to have for lunch."

Gilda really hoped he was right, but deep in her gut she doubted him. What she really wanted was to find out more about Erik. She left the school and groaned when Thayer fell into step with her. "Twice in one day. To what do I owe the displeasure?"

He chuckled. "Cute. You can tell me why you've been hanging out with Gary del Garda so much lately."

"I haven't." She swung her bag over her shoulder and nearly hit him in the head.

"You're lying," he said. "He's been loitering around both the school and your house, and I've seen you talking to him several times. You're either having an affair with him, which is disgusting, or you're not very smart about the company you keep."

"Are you in that last category?"

"Funny." Thayer didn't look amused. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "He's got a rap sheet longer than all the mats at your school lined up end to end."

"People make mistakes." She smiled. "Look at you and me."

"He's spent time in jail for murder, assault, and selling drugs."

"He's going straight for his daughter's sake." Gilda glanced around. No sign of Gary or his sedan. "I guess he's taking advantage of his second chance."

"Gary also worked for the man who killed your father," he said.

A touchy nerve. She clenched her fists and faced him. "Then why don't you go talk to him. Maybe he's the one who killed Walter, not Erik."

"Erik?" Thayer narrowed his eyes. "I take it you talked to Mick. What would Gary have to gain by killing Walter?"

"Why don't you go ask him?" she asked.

Thayer frowned. "Funny. I thought he would've told you his life story by now."

Gilda poked him in the chest with one finger. "You're the cop. You are the one who needs to get off your lazy butt and do some real investigating instead of following me around. If you think either Erik or Gary had anything to do with Walter's murder, then you need to find the evidence and figure out the motive. Not me."

"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?" Thayer's mouth twitched and his nostrils flared. "What gives you the right to boss me around?"

She had no right to do or say anything. It just felt good for once. "Somebody has to."

He sputtered then laughed. "I've missed that about you. I really think you and I should sit down with a glass of wine and discuss a few things."

"I didn't kill Walter."

"Not about Walter." He took her hand. "About you and me. We used to make a great team. I think now we've had time to grow up, we'd be even better."

"Are you kidding me? You haven't grown up. You're still a ten-year-old kid in a grown man's body."

"At least you noticed that much." He steered her toward the house. "At least I'm not so serious that I'm no fun anymore."

She pulled away from him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I want you to stop hanging out with guys like Gary del Garda," he said.

"Because he's dangerous, or because you're jealous?"

Thayer recoiled. "Because he's a murder suspect."

"Which he wasn't until you saw him talking to me." When his shoulders sagged, Gilda opened the gate—then shut it between them. "You are so busted."

Friday started off with some stretches then a smooth, uneventful jog. Uneventful meaning no signs of Thayer, Gary, or Mick. After a long, hot shower and a breakfast of egg whites, turkey sausage, and whole grain toast, Gilda was both refreshed and buoyant.

She popped into Café Beanz for a low-fat latte then headed for work and unlocked the door. As she walked into the school, she thought about flicking the light switch in the semidarkness but wanted to set her belongings down first. She set the latte on the front desk then opened her purse to put away her keys.

Behind her, someone took a small shuffle step.

A blur of color flashed seconds before something hit the back of her head with tremendous force.

Enough force to knock her out cold.

Gilda awoke sometime later to total silence. Her head ached and a kink pinched her neck. She sat up slowly and listened. Someone was already in the school when she arrived. Who and why had the person knocked her out?

Dizzy, she reached up and flipped the light switch to look for anything out of the ordinary. Beneath the shrine in the dojo, Erik lay facedown on the mats with several small objects on his back. Ninja throwing stars. None of the throwing stars they used in class were real, merely rubber. Someone must have found a real set and honed them sharp enough to penetrate and stick into human flesh. Blood circled each one.

She gagged. More blood. Another body. She fell to her hands and knees, already starting to hyperventilate. Thayer would surely lock her up this time. He wouldn't even bother to throw away the key, just solder the door shut.

Gilda crawled to her desk and took several deep breaths through her nose. Once she was no longer lightheaded, she dialed 9-1-1. "Marion, thank heavens. It's Gilda. Can you send Thayer to the karate school? It's important."

"Gilda? What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Erik is badly injured." She fought back tears. "I need the police and an ambulance."

"Is he bleeding or having trouble breathing?" Marion asked.

"I don't know. I just came to. I haven't gone into the dojo to check." Gilda pulled up onto her chair and rubbed the sore spot on the back of her head. "I just saw him lying there. He's bleeding and not moving."

"Oh, not again." She groaned. "Is there anyone else there with you?"

"No. I think I'm alone now."

"You think you're alone?" Marion asked. "Do you need a lawyer?"

She closed her eyes. "Not yet, but if you know a good one, keep him on speed dial for me." Her next call was to Mick, who sounded winded.

"Are you at the school?" He hesitated. "Please tell me there's a water leak or the printer's out of ink."

Gilda blinked fast and choked back the tears. "I think Erik's dead."

"This bites. Stay put. I'll be right there." He hung up.

She steeled herself and peered over her desk. No sign of a struggle in the changing area. No blood. Nothing out of place. Where Walter's death had been so violent, Erik's murder was more like a sneak attack. Someone had thrown the ninja stars from behind. Ambushed him, for want of a better word.

Gilda rose and crept into the dojo, careful not to touch anything. Erik's back was riddled with ten metal stars. Whoever threw them had deadly accurate aim. Even so, she doubted the small weapons alone were enough to kill him.

"Gilda? Are you still in here?" Thayer edged around the dojo door, gun drawn.

Startled, she joined him in the front lobby, the scent of greasy fries doused in cider vinegar and salt stung her nostrils. "It didn't take you long to get here."

"I was next door grabbing lunch when I got the call." He set a paper bag on her desk. "You hungry?"

She glanced back at Erik. "Not really. Light-headed mostly. Someone—"

Thayer motioned to the bag. "Good, then keep this safe for me."

"That's not my job." She rubbed the throbbing spot on the back of her head.

He examined the crime scene from several angles before he borrowed a piece of paper. Gilda followed him back into the dojo and hovered over his shoulder while he used the paper to test how sharp the blades were. The sheet sliced cleanly at a touch, and a thin layer of clear liquid soaked into the edges.

"Is that poison?" Gilda asked over his shoulder. "No wonder he died. I didn't think those ninja stars alone would kill him. There's not enough blood."

"May I remind you…I'm the cop, and you shouldn't even be near the crime scene?" Thayer stood with his hands on his hips. "I get to solve the mystery. You get to sit behind your desk and call your students. Classes will be cancelled again tonight."

"I don't think you get a say in what I think or do. In case you've forgotten, you lost that privilege a long time ago." She wanted to say more, but the sight of Erik put things into perspective. Arguing with Thayer suddenly seemed pointless and petty. She headed toward the doorway.

"Still holding onto that grudge, are you? Maybe I should just haul you down to the station now and do a complete background check." He waved the other investigators over and motioned to the body. "Check the whole building for clues. Different M.O., but we might be looking for the same killer. I'll call Fabio and get a team in here. Gilda, call Mick."

"Already done," she said. "At least one of us is good at our job."

In the lobby, Mick leaned against her desk and waved a cardboard tray full of French fries. "Thayer getting on your nerves already?"

"No more than usual. I was trying to tell him I got hit on the head, but…" She grabbed a fry and jabbed it in the glob of ketchup. Too much like blood. She lost her appetite and gagged. "Sorry."

Mick ate her fry. "You okay, Sherlock? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Not as good as you, apparently." Another gag. She focused on straightening her desk. How could he be so nonchalant? "Did you already forget Erik is dead?"

"My thoughts exactly. You don't seem overly shaken up over Erik's death." Thayer approached the desk then frowned. "Is that my lunch?"

"The brown bag on Gilda's desk?" Mick asked.

"You know it was," Thayer said.

"In my defense, Officer, I thought it was hers."

Thayer flared his nostrils. "Right. Since when do you two share lunch?"

"We share a lot of things you don't know about." Mick grinned then turned to wink at Gilda.

Thayer snorted and grabbed the cardboard tray now only half-full of fries. At least Mick playing on Thayer's jealousy lightened her mood a touch. Only a touch. Erik was still dead, and Gilda had no idea how the two men could even think about eating. She sat behind her desk and sighed.

"When did you last see Erik alive?" Thayer asked.

Gilda turned on the computer and rubbed her face with both hands. Let the police search for clues. She was done meddling. Her head pounded, and she wanted to go home. Two bodies in a week and a whack on the head was more than enough excitement for her. She rubbed her face. "Yesterday. We had a staff meeting."

"What did you discuss at this meeting?" Thayer asked.

Mick sat beside Gilda and rested his feet on the desktop, next to her paperwork. "We asked Gilda to stop playing detective before she gets hurt. When I left, she and Razi were still here. Thursday we held classes as usual. Minus Walter."

"But you already know that," she said. "Since you came to interrogate me in my garden before I came to work yesterday."

Mick frowned. "He did?"

"He even walked me to work afterward." She toyed with her pen. "And followed me home last night."

"That was nice of you," Mick said. "I'm amazed you didn't give her a ride in your cruiser, to waste even more tax payers' money."

Thayer turned and, fries and all, returned to the dojo.

Mick's jaw tensed, and for a brief second, Gilda was sure he'd throw something at the back of Thayer's head. Instead, he dug a ten dollar bill out of his pocket. "Be a darling and go to Café Beanz for coffee and muffins. My treat."

"What's the catch?" She narrowed her eyes.

"I plan to go yell at Thayer and get his sorry ass out of my dojo—with his munchies," he said. "By the way, stop at the police station and tell Thayer's boss he's not only harassing you, he's also mishandling the investigation."

She shook her throbbing head. "He'll just say the harassment is because of the murders, since we're all suspects."

"You're not. Thayer's already cleared you. He thinks you're a ditz."

"He does not." Gilda took the ten. "I'll get coffee and muffins, but you can forget the rest. I'm not laying false charges against anyone. I'm going home to sleep."