Death of a Jaded Samurai (20 page)

"When I went into work today, someone hit me on the back of the head and knocked me out cold. When I came to, Erik was already dead." She blinked away tears. "I swear the place is cursed."

Happy crossed himself then scurried around the counter and returned with a cardboard carton that held four small bottles of wine. "Any more than this, you get out of control and do stupid things,
amiga
. You take this, have a hot bubble bath, and next week, you come to me for work. I treat you right. No murders or crazy stuff. Better money, for sure."

"Thanks, Happy. I promise I'll think about it." Gilda reached for her wallet.

"You take," he said, sticking the case in a paper bag. "A
presente
. Get a new life before that place ruins you."

She wandered down to the beach to the large driftwood tree, sat down, and cracked open a minibar-sized bottle. "Walter, I hope wherever you are, things are much better for you."

"Honor," she said, then drained the bottle in one long gulp. Why couldn't she shake the thought of the kanji and the missing scroll? If the killer followed the pattern of the Four Possessions, Erik's death would be over Integrity.

No time for silly, sappy thoughts. She cracked the second bottle of pinot grigio open. "Erik, I never really liked you, and I have a feeling you're in a much warmer place than Sandstone Cove. I hope you're happier there."

She guzzled the second bottle and sat back, nearly falling right off the log as the alcohol numbed her. "Honor. Integrity. HI. Hi." As the numbing wine kicked in, she giggled then glanced in the bag. Two bottles. Two kanji. Three black belts. Only one receptionist with a shady boss, a stalker, and a bad habit of finding bodies.

Gilda slid onto the sand and sat against the log to think. She'd already found two bodies, and the killer could have easily included her in his spree this time. He could have strangled her or worse while she was unconscious on the floor, but didn't. Was it really all about the black belts and the kanji, or had Gilda missed the motive altogether?

She pulled up onto the log and wandered home along the trail that followed Lake Erie's coast. Once home, she put on the stereo, cranked up the volume, and tucked the remaining two wine bottles in the fridge. A distraction from the death and destruction of Yoshida Martial Arts was in order. After locking the front door, she checked the windows, then sauntered into the bathroom.

Once immersed in warm water and bubbles, she forgot her off-key singing, and luxuriated. The very word
luxuriated
made her feel both extravagant and worlds away from Sandstone Cove. As she sank beneath the bubbles, her imagination transported her to somewhere tropical with a cabana and a scantily clad pool boy. For the first time in a week, she breathed deeply and sighed her cares away.

When the doorbell rang somewhere in the distance, she sighed. "Go away. I give up."

The doorbell rang again.

What seemed like seconds later, a loud bang rattled the house and shook the bathroom door. Gilda floundered in the water as heavy footsteps stomped across the hardwood.

"Gilda, where are you?" Mick bellowed.

Her heart knocked at her ribs. How on Earth did he get inside? She'd locked all the doors. save one. The bathroom. Oh, crap. "Stay out!"

When he burst through the bathroom door, she ducked as much of her naked body as possible beneath the bubbles. His eyes widened, jaw dropped, and shoulders sagged all in one motion.

She pulled the curtain closed and peered around the pink fabric. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, geez. You're okay. When you didn't answer the door, I got scared," Mick said. He turned away slightly but didn't leave the room. "I called a dozen times and rang your doorbell. What were you doing?"

Gilda raised a handful of bubbles. "Taking a bath. Do you mind leaving?"

"I can't. Not with you in the tub." He bowed his head. "Especially since I broke down your front door."

"You what?"

His gazed returned to the tub. To her. "I got worried when you didn't answer the door. I knocked then figured you were dead and kicked the door down."

"You mean you kicked it in."

Mick winced. "Nope, I pretty much kicked it down. It's lying on the carpet out front."

Dread filled her stomach. "Have you been drinking?"

"A little. I'm sure we all have lately."

Guilty. Gilda frowned and hid behind the curtain. "Look, I really need some time alone. Why don't you go home, and we'll talk later."

"I can't." He sat on the toilet lid and dropped his forehead into his hands. "I don't have a home anymore."

"Sure you do. You have a condo on Balsam Avenue."

"Sort of," Mick said. "Chloe move in, changed the locks, and conveniently never gave me a key. I've been sleeping at the school for the past few days now."

"She did? You are?"

He certainly looked dejected. "Yeah. I guess I should've known better."

Gilda reached for the towel on the floor and missed by a couple inches. With a quick glance at Mick, she tried again. This time she leaned over the edge of the tub onto the shower curtain and pulled it down, rod and all. The fabric draped over her, covering her curves, while the rod clunked her on the back of the head—on top of her lump from the killer. Her vision sparkled with tiny stars.

"Geez, Gilda, you okay?" He lunged to pull the bar off. "Keep this up, and you're going to take yourself out."

When Mick started to lay the curtain and rod on the floor next to the tub, she grabbed the fabric for cover. Her face grew hot, and a rush of pain pulsed through her head. "I'm fine, thanks. Could you please get out of my bathroom?"

"You know, I thought it was a fluke when Walter got killed. Now Erik's dead too, and it occurred to me I could be next." He studied her over the fallen curtain. "I really need your help."

She shifted the wet curtain to cover her body and sat up. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and make tea so I can get dressed? Then we can talk."

"Promise?"

"Only if you promise not to burn down my kitchen."

"Okay." Mick stood and moaned. "I guess I should see if I can stand your door back up. I seriously did knock it flat to the floor, so you may have to get someone to fix it tomorrow."

Except for the throbbing pain in her head, she was sure this all had to be a bad dream. Was it possible she was still unconscious in the karate school and had never found Erik's body? Wishful thinking.

Gilda sighed. There was no way fixing her front door could wait until morning. "Can you at least pass me my towel? Please?"

He suddenly seemed to realize she was naked and paused to take in the sight of her beneath the shower curtain. The energy coming off his body could have reheated every drop of water in the bathtub. "You look good wrapped in plastic. Kind of like a microwave dinner."

He grinned then tossed her the towel and left the room.

Left Gilda to pull the plug and absorb their conversation while she dressed and threw the shower curtain and rod in the tub. For someone who rarely ever drank, Mick had arrived at her house plastered twice now and smelled potent enough for two this time. Once again, the safest person to call was Razi.

She peered out the bathroom door and was met by silence. Mick had passed out on the couch. The front door, as he said, was lying on the floor. She picked up the phone.

Razi appeared on the front step ten minutes later. "Shall I take Sensei
Mick home?"

Gilda almost said yes then shook her head. "Leave him to sleep it off on my couch. Apparently, he doesn't have a home to go to right now anyway, and he's relatively safe here. I was hoping you could give me a hand to fix my front door though."

He gave a small bow. "Of course. Do you have a hammer and a screwdriver? I can do a temporary fix, enough to keep skunks out. I recommend you call a repair man."

"Thanks, but I'm sure Mick's snoring will keep the bad guys away for tonight."

Razi's eyebrows squished together. "Which bad guys? The killer, or the other ones who are after him?"

She dropped into the lumpy wicker chair. "What other ones?"

He turned away, his face red. "My mistake."

"No mistake. What other guys? Who's after him?"

"Sensei Mick likes to make money, but he also likes to…" He paused. "What are the words he used? Bet on the ponies. He introduced me to his friend Gary at the sports bar."

Her stomach ached. Gary again. "Sensei Mick gambles?"

Razi shifted his weight and leaned on the flaking wooden railing. "Only occasionally. He lost a horse race and owes fifty thousand dollars."

"Fifty thousand?" Her jaw dropped. No wonder Gary was stalking Mick.

"Now he is worried they will break his legs." He fidgeted with a set of keys. "What is worse is that he is Chloe's father, and I believe Sensei
Mick called him a grandfather."

"Chloe's pregnant?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head. "Gary is a gangster."

"Oh, you mean a godfather." The weight of the words struck her, and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh crap, Mick. What have you gotten us all into?"

"Please, do not tell him I told you. We already have enough problems in the school."

Gilda frowned. "Erik was murdered."

"I am aware." Razi nodded. "Sensei Mick called me when you left the school. When I said I saw you leave Happy Harvey's Hangover Hut later, he was not happy. He wanted to find you to see if you were well."

"So when did he have time to get so drunk?" she asked.

"He started to keep a bottle of scotch in his desk after he started to date Chloe." He bowed his head. "He must have opened it when he heard you were at Happy's."

Scotch in his desk? She should have known to search there. "Why?"

"Walter. Erik. I do not think he was very happy about your life being in peril yet a second time. He considered firing you."

"Firing me? Why?"

Razi turned away. "He does not want you to be harmed, which is why I need to fix your door, so you can at least lock it."

She led him to the kitchen then rifled through a drawer. "Does he think the murders have something to do with his gambling problem?"

"Partly." He shrugged. "Mostly, he believes it is some demented psychopath."

Gilda handed him the tools. Then they walked past Mick snoring on the couch. "That sounds right. Razi, did you notice anything missing from the school after Walter's death?"

"Of course. The photograph of
Shihan
Yoshida and Sensei Mick that hung in the front hall."

She hadn't even noticed. "Anything else?"

"Yes." He lifted the door into place. "The scroll of the Four Possessions of the Samurai Sensei Mick had put on a hook in the changing room. That was the first thing I noticed, since we all have one just like it. The scrolls were gifts from Mick when we received our black belts, just as he had received his from Yoshida."

So much for narrowing down her suspect list.

As the morning sun peeked through the windows, Gilda stood and glared at Mick sleeping peacefully on her couch. How dare he snore blissfully unaware of her long, restless night, her damaged front door, and her impulse to hold a pillow over his face because of everything?

She stomped past him and grasped the doorknob. As soon as she pulled open the door, the top hinge popped off so the door hung off-kilter by the bottom hinge. She leaned the sagging door against the wall then sat on the front porch step to sip her coffee and stew. How could Mick bring such unsavory characters into her life? All their lives. It was almost like he had no idea his vices would put any of his students in danger.

After a deep sigh, she finished the last of her coffee. Sure, there was a full pot in the kitchen, but getting more required walking past Mick. After all the horrific thoughts she'd subjected herself to all night, she didn't trust herself near him.

A door closed behind her. When she glanced back, Mick was no longer on the couch. A few minutes later he emerged from the bathroom and strolled into the kitchen. He appeared in the doorway with two cups of coffee and a frown. "I think I owe you an explanation."

"You owe me a whole lot more than that," she said. "A new door, for one."

He sat next to her. "At least you didn't smother me with a pillow."

"The thought was there." She took the fresh cup of coffee, setting her empty cup aside.

"Who fixed the door?" Then he bowed his head as though reliving the reason it was broken to begin with. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way."

Gilda wrapped her hands around her mug. "Razi made sure it kept out the rest of the skunks. One of the hinges came off again when I opened it this morning."

"I know a guy who can fix that."

"From what I hear, you know a lot of guys," she said, unable to look at him yet. "Unfortunately, not all of those guys fix things. Some of them kill people."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Razi told me you bet on the horses and lost badly."

He snorted. "For a strong, silent guy, he can be a real blabbermouth. I can explain."

"Of course you can. Don't bother," she said. "I took the job at Yoshida's because it seemed like it would be a safe place to work. I like learning how to defend myself. Suddenly, people are dying, you kicked down my front door, and I get knocked out just walking into work one day. I don't want to know what you're involved in."

Mick sipped his coffee. "Are you trying to tell me you want to quit?"

"The thought has occurred to me."

"I'm sure it has, but I don't know what I'd do without you." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, I know it seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—"

"Sometimes? When Walter died, you left me to face the police. When Erik died, you sent me to get coffee, even though I had a concussion."

His face fell. "You make it sound worse than it was."

"Really? I thought I was sugarcoating things," she said, fighting hard not to scream. "I think you should leave now."

"We need to talk about this."

"No. I don't want to talk anymore." She stood, her hands shaking. "I have to call someone to repair my door. Please don't be here when I come back out."