Death of a Jaded Samurai (12 page)

Early Tuesday afternoon, Gilda unlocked the front door of the school and was startled to find a lone figure standing in the lobby. Her heart seemed stuck in her throat. Yoshida, Mick's
shihan
—or senior instructor—since he was a kid, stood no taller than her, yet his presence seemed to fill the room with foreboding.

"
Shihan
." She cringed. "Sensei Mick didn't tell me you were coming early."

"I neglected to tell him." When Yoshida turned to face her, his eyes narrowed and hardened. "I hear you have spoken with a number of people about Walter Levy, Miss Wright."

She shrank back without moving her feet. "I was trying to find out why someone would kill one of our most indispensable black belts."

He toyed with blocks on her desk one of the younger students had left behind. "Do you think by asking questions you can solve a man's murder?"

"No," she said, yet that was exactly what she was doing. No wonder Mick had called her Sherlock lately. "I guess so. I guess I feel like I owe it to his family to help find his killer."

His eyebrows rose as he placed a business card on top of the bottom layer of three blocks, and his hard gaze met hers. "Did you kill him?"

"No."

Yoshida's face softened. He piled two more blocks on top of the card. "Then you owe them nothing. Keep your mind on your work and your nose in your business. Asking questions and meddling in the affairs of others will not save this school."

She wanted to ask what he meant by saving the school but was concerned his comment was more a threat and less a stern piece of advice. "I will. Thank you."

"I will return in time for our training session. I would suggest you not show up, or you may get hurt." He turned on his toes and, abandoning his block creation, walked out the door.

Once the door closed, Gilda hid behind the desk in her cushy chair and dared to breathe. Despite the heat, she had a serious chill deep in her bones. A cup of tea would take the edge off, yet she was afraid to set foot outside the building. Too many suspects, too few answers.

She glanced at the clock. No sign of Mick or any of the other black belts. No classes. No students. No Walter. Tears threatened to fall on her paperwork and smear the ink. Yoshida was right. She didn't kill Walter, and she didn't owe his family anything, including peace of mind. The questions—snooping really—were all for her sanity. Her peace of mind…that her friends and coworkers weren't murderers.

Why had he told her not to come to train that night? Either he knew something was going to happen or—

"Who's in here?" Mick called from the front door. It wasn't like him to be so paranoid. Was he worried about running into the murderer, or just Yoshida?

"Just me." She guessed neither Yoshida nor Gary had stuck around outside to wait.

He peered around the corner. "Are you armed?"

"I have a stapler," she said. "Does that count?"

"I can deal with that." Mick leaned on the counter. "Whoa. Are you okay, Sherlock? You look as green as the mats."

"Yeah. Still a bit rattled, I guess."

"What are you doing here then?"

"Midmonth payments. Tidying up before the workshop. I don't want things to fall behind while we're closed." Gilda paused. "Yoshida was here when I arrived."

Mick stopped short, and the muscles in his shoulders tensed. "What did he want?"

"I don't know, but he seemed surprised to see me. The door was locked, and I had to use my key to get in."

"Interesting." Mick disappeared around the corner. "What did he say?"

She bit her lower lip and waited.

When she didn't reply right away, he reappeared. "Gilda? Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine." She hated lying to him and shuffled her paperwork to appear busy.

"Uh-huh. Did he walk around and check out the dojo or anything?"

 "He stood exactly where you are now, peeked through the doorway, then left," she said. "He did warn me not to train tonight."

"What were his exact words?"

"He suggested I not show up, or I may get hurt." She hugged her stomach. "He also told me to stop asking questions and meddling in the affairs of others since it won't save this school. What did he mean by that?"

Mick closed his eyes and ran a hand through his thick hair. "Go home, Gilda."

"But I—"

"Go home and don't come back until after Walter's funeral."

"I have to—"

He sighed. "Good-bye."

"Mick, it'll only take a—"

His jaw hardened. "Don't bother coming to the workshop later. Take the night off to go hang out with Marion. Go to a movie or for dinner. Anything."

She didn't even open her mouth this time. She just stared at him. After a moment, her shoulders drooped. "At least let me tidy up and file my paperwork."

He turned and went back to his office. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Gilda straightened up her desk before she walked outside into the heat and headed for home. The questions popped up at a rate that matched her pace and followed her all the way out to her garden. What was Mick up to, and why did Yoshida tell her not to show up to train that night? Frustrated, she puttered around in the sunshine for half an hour before the phone rang.

"Okay, Gilda. What's going on?" Marion asked.

"What are you talking about?" She sat on the back step.

"Oh, I don't know. First I overheard Thayer tell someone he ran into you at the morgue, and then Sensei Mick calls me—keep in mind, he's never, ever called me before—and suggested I keep you busy tonight for some reason. He even offered me bribe money. What in heaven's name have you done now?"

Gilda sighed. Mick really was trying to keep her away from the school. "I haven't done anything. I promise."

"Well, your boss seems to think I need to keep you busy tonight and suggested you and I go to dinner and a movie." The sounds in the background said she was still in the dispatch office. "What do you say? My treat. I'll stop at home and change, and then we can have dinner and a couple glasses of wine and—"

She was still stuck on one detail. "Mick put you up to this?"

"Yeah. Well, not totally. You are my best friend, you know," Marion said. "What's wrong? Did I miss something?"

"No, but I think I have. Tonight is the session with
Shihan
Yoshida, and both Yoshida and Mick have told me not to show up."

"Holy crap. Is your karate that bad?"

Gilda groaned. "I think there's something going on at the school that I've totally missed. I'm hoping if I go to class tonight, I'll find out more."

"See, that's where you and I differ. If Mick told me to stay away, I'd stay away and lock myself inside my house, no maybe about it. Hang on a sec, will you?" Her next words were muffled but clear. "Get lost. My conversations are none of your business. No, I'm not talking to Gilda. I'm talking to my boyfriend."

"Yeah? What's his name?" Thayer asked in the background.

"Tiny. Do you really want to mess with a guy named Tiny? No? I didn't think so."

Gilda smiled. "I have to get ready for class. I'll talk to you later."

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Tiny." She lowered her voice. "Honey, do you have brain damage? Listen to Mick. Forget about training, and meet me for dinner. Whatever's going on, you'll just end up smack in the middle. Do you want to end up like Walter?"

Gilda got up to pace the flagstone garden path. "No, but what if Walter found out something someone didn't want him to know? What if another black belt is being set up to die?"

Marion groaned. "Then you'll end up in the middle and get killed, no matter what I say."

"No, I won't. There will be other students there."

"And what if they're all involved?"

Gilda hadn't thought that far ahead.

Despite the warnings, her gut feelings, and Marion's misgivings, Gilda returned to the school Tuesday evening. She came around the corner and ran straight into Yoshida. When he stepped away from her, something flickered across his face. Fear? Anger? The look disappeared as fast as it appeared.

"Miss Wright." The lines in his face seemed etched deeper than in the afternoon. His head appeared freshly shaven. Ready for battle.

"
Shihan
." She bowed before the senior instructor and cringed as she set her pink sports bag on the floor. "I'm not sure how many students will come. Most have cancelled."

Yoshida nodded. "The death and pending funeral of Mr. Levy. Very sad."

She tied on her green belt and paused in the dojo doorway. Coming to the workshop that night was more than a chance to learn more about Walter and his murder. She wanted to grade for her blue belt in the fall and needed the extra practice. Working out her body would give her worried mind a temporary break.

Since Razi had replaced all the missing mats, the training hall looked just like it had before Walter's murder. She lined up with the other students—ten in all, not including Mick and Yoshida—in the dojo. Mick wasted no time getting things started. The highest-ranking brown belt began the opening ceremony. After all the official bowing in was done, everyone stood and waited. Beads of sweat quivered on Gilda's upper lip, even though they hadn't warmed up yet. Silence hung in the air, as heavy and humid as storm clouds.

Yoshida nodded to Mick, who turned his attention to the other students. Three black belts, two brown belts, a blue belt, two green belts, an orange belt, and a yellow belt made up the class that evening. All adults. No kids.

"Thank you all for coming," Mick toyed with his belt, something he always scolded his students for doing, and glared at Gilda. "I know the circumstances are less than desirable. We've lost a distinguished black belt, and his loss will set us back for a while."

At the far end of the lineup, Erik snorted.

Yoshida's face twisted until he resembled a demonic Kabuki theatre mask she once saw in a shop in downtown Detroit. "Do you have an objection?"

Gilda cringed and prayed Erik would keep his mouth closed, train, and go home.

Unfortunately, Erik didn't think the same way. "Walter was far from a distinguished black belt. He left his family to marry a high school kid and was always harassing teenage girls. Mick should never have left him in charge of the kids' classes. The guy was a menace."

Her eyes widened. Opened, so to speak. She glanced down the line toward the senior belts and realized every other student in the line seemed to stare at Mick.

Mick reddened and stepped forward. "Enough. We're here to train, not to bad mouth other students."

"Whatever." Erik seemed primed for a fight. "The guy was a scumbag, and you only let him stay because he paid big bucks to be a silent third partner in the school."

Gilda's mouth dropped open. Mutiny. More secrets revealed. When her gaze met Mick's, his face hardened. and he turned away.

"Erik." The lines in Mick's neck betrayed his tension. "I think you should leave."

"Seriously?" Erik asked. "Are you kicking me out of the school?"

"Just for tonight," Mick said as sweat trickled down the side of his face. "I'd like you to calm down. You and I can straighten things out after the funeral tomorrow."

"Of course." Erik smirked. "How dare I bad-mouth your replacement? Did you bother to tell Gilda about the changes, or were you afraid she'd finally see you for what you really are?"

Gilda's eyes widened. Changes? Replacement? She snapped her mouth shut but kept her ears tuned to the mutterings around her. Razi's eyebrows twitched upward when he met her gaze. He seemed as confused as she was.

"That is enough." Yoshida lunged forward until he stood toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose with Erik. "You will wait in my office. I will deal with you later."

In a last show of defiance, Erik glared at Mick then turned his back—disrespecting not only his fellow student but teachers as well—and didn't bother to bow out of the dojo. Rather than change or go to the office to wait, he grabbed his duffel bag and left the building, making sure to slam every door behind him.

My office.
Yoshida had said it, although it wasn't his office. It was Mick's. A mere slip of the tongue, or was there really something going on Gilda wasn't aware of? Changes. Her stomach clenched.

She didn't have long to fret. The instant Erik left the building, taking his gear and leaving the tension, Yoshida's face hardened. He stood, feet shoulder-distance apart, hands clasped behind his back, and nostrils flared, and barked out orders for half an hour as they ran and did the hardest, most nauseating warm-up Gilda had ever pushed through in her life. She guessed torturing his students was the way he let off steam.

She focused—breathe in through her nose, breathe out through her mouth—and fought hard not to succumb to the urge to either throw up or collapse in a heap on the mat. Furtive glances passed between all the students as they ran laps back and forth across the dojo then dropped to the floor to do ten push-ups, ten sit-ups, and ten leg raises before running again.

No one talked. No one dared. Even Mick ran past her so focused he never acknowledged her presence. When Xavier groaned, Yoshida added one last set of twenty push-ups, then told them all to line up.

"You all stink," Yoshida growled. "Stop being lazy. Show me intensity. Show me guts."

A half hour of working on
katas,
single-person fighting practice, was next, followed by stances. Yoshida made them hold each stance, particularly
shiko dachi,
or sumo stance, until Gilda's thighs burned, her arms grew too heavy to lift, and her throat burned from swallowing her own vomit. She wanted to run out of the room and throw up but was afraid of Yoshida's reaction.

When Mick clapped a hand to her shoulder, he nearly knocked her over. "Go get a drink of water."

"I'm good." Her voice was raspy.

"You're white and ready to puke. Go take a drink before you're completely dehydrated. That goes for all of you. Take a break."

Yoshida's somber face tightened. "No drinks. No breaks. They will train until
I
let them leave. You are a lousy teacher. They have much to learn."