Death of a Jaded Samurai Read Online Free PDF Page B

everything. You go get some rest, and don't worry about a thing."
    "Thank you." She leaned against a clean section of the wall and closed her eyes.
    When she opened them, she finally realized what was different about the changing room. A rust-colored scroll listing the kanji of the Four Possessions of the Samurai usually hung at the far end of the room. HILT. Honor, Integrity, Loyalty, and Time.
    The scroll was gone. Not fallen. Not moved. Gone.
    Since she'd sort of noticed it was missing before the police started to remove items, that meant whoever killed Walter had taken the scroll as well.
    Gilda debated telling Mick but chose to keep her revelation private for now and gathered her things to go home. She suddenly not only hated the smells of cleaner and copper but also the color red. She let out a sigh that betrayed the tears beneath it.
    "Hey, Gilda, can you stay for a bit longer? I need to run out and…" Mick came out of his office and stopped when he saw her. "Oh, hell. Come here."
    Mick draped his arms around her and gave her another hug. He smelled of something other than floor cleaner and blood. Something familiar and comforting she hadn't noticed earlier. Stale coffee from Café Beanz. "Go home, Sherlock. I'll let these guys out, then come in and check on things tomorrow. You go home and rest. It's been a long day. Don't worry."
    "But I—"
    "No, you were right. You've done more than enough. Thanks for all your help. I'll take care of things tonight." He ushered her out of the karate school, leaving her no opportunity to check caller ID, and locked the door behind her.
    She stood alone on the sidewalk and fingered the tissue-wrapped ring in her pocket, with far more questions than answers. Her eyes burned with tears and fatigue. She'd bring the new evidence to Fabio in the morning when she could think more clearly.
    After Gilda left the school, she stumbled across the street to Happy Harvey's Hangover Hut. A glorified, tiki-infested liquor and convenience store, Happy's wasn't the place to go if you had a hangover. More like if you were in desperate search of one. Happy—no one ever called him Harvey that she'd known—was a seventy-year-old man who had become disillusioned with retirement. He'd been friends with her parents for forever and was still one of Gilda's good friends.
    Right now she needed a friend more than she needed a bottle, and blowing out a long breath, she pulled on the door. Locked. She peered through the glass before she noticed the sign on the door. "Closed for staff meeting."
    Disappointed Happy wasn't around, she wandered the few blocks home, her thoughts as disheveled as her hair. Once she arrived home, she locked the door as shock set back in, and she lost control of her emotions.
    Not that she was Walter's biggest fan, but her imagination led her into some frightening scenarios. She spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and pacing, her thoughts following her around the living room to haunt her. Had one of her coworkers, or even her boss, murdered another person? Another karate instructor? More to the point: What was Mick Williams hiding?

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Saturday morning brought calm and grief but also tweaked her baser nosy side. She sat and stared at the ring from the changing room for nearly half an hour before making a list of things she needed to do today. Within the hour, she'd already forgotten them all and abandoned the list on the table to pace the room again.
    When the doorbell rang at eight, her heart stuttered and her breath stuck in her aching throat. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror behind the door. Frightening. Her eyes were puffy from crying all night, her skin was pale and blotchy, and her hair clung to her face from sweat and tears. She opened the door.
    "You okay, Gilda?" Xavier Wyndham, second-degree black belt and one of the school's senior instructors, stood on her front step with a cup of coffee in each hand. A former professional