Retribution ("M" Mystery) (3 page)

She threw together her favorite lunch, stuffed the crime scene photos in an envelope without looking at them, scribbled Detective Buck Shore on one side and dropped it in the basket with her lunch. She’d make a detour by the Bay County Sheriff’s office before she headed to the beach. When she backed out of her driveway into the street she never noticed the rusted Gremlin at the curb two doors down.

The Gremlin drove past Amy as she turned into the Bay County Sheriff’s parking lot, pulling to the side of the road until she drove back into traffic, heading toward Dungeness Bay. When she turned onto Beach road he knew she was headed to Whaler’s Cove, the road dead-ended there. He hung a U-turn and headed for downtown Dungeness Bay. He had one more stop before he’d meet Amy.

Chapter Seven

They parked in the alley
behind Dungeness Bay Fitness and Martial Arts. M got out of the car and waited for Buck to walk around next to her.

“After your lesson I’m pretty busy but should have enough time to drop by and check on Gina around three or so.”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I really appreciate that. Any new information would be a big help. Call me on my cell phone.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “No problem.”

He stopped and touched her on the shoulder.

“I know this morning’s lesson is breaking into your personal time, but I just couldn’t make it this afternoon or tonight,” Buck said.

She started walking again. “Not a problem. Helping Gina this morning was a priority that changed my schedule, and you fit right in.”

They stopped talking for a minute as they passed a homeless man sleeping next to the dumpster, he was partly covered by a hole-riddled blanket. When they approached he gave a low groan and rolled over, the blanket fell off his shoulders.

M stiffened as the man pulled the blanket up to his chin. “What is it?” Buck said, stopping to follow her gaze at the rumpled figure curled on the ground.

“Maybe nothing.” She stepped closer to the sleeping figure. “Hey you!”

The man rolled over, his short-cropped hair standing up like a rooster’s comb on one side of his head. What looked like dried vomit stained his chin. He was Asian, and looked a little young to be homeless. He held the blanket up to his chin like a virgin on her wedding night. “Huh?”

M stepped back. “Nothing, sorry to bother you.”

They walked in silence to the end the sidewalk, she turned and looked back down the alley.

“Come on, what’s up? You want me to roust that guy?”

She didn’t answer for a minute. “No leave him alone. It’s just that he’s been hanging around for a while. He’s harmless.” Then she turned to look up the sidewalk at the front of her business.

“Windows need washing,” she said, and picked up a paper cup from the brick windowsill. “Tourists, you love ‘em and you hate ‘em.” She stepped into the alcove that housed the double doors, pushing one open for Buck.

“Age before beauty.”

He groaned as he stepped through. “Thanks.”

She smiled as she followed him through the door. “All part of your training.”

They stopped at the front desk where a young man was sorting mail.

  “How’s the traffic this morning, Mark?” M said, stepping up and picking through the stack of mail.

“Not a lot of clients, but a lot of mail.” He plopped down a second stack of just credit card applications. “Oh, and I got your application off for the new equipment.”

 Buck shot his eyebrows up. “Buying new weight machines, business must be good.”

She turned and leaned her back on the front counter. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I lease the machines.”

“Oh,” he said, and looked past the manager to the over-sized clock on the wall. “I really have to get going. If this lesson is any problem we can push it off until tomorrow.”

M stepped away from the counter and through the turnstile. “Not a chance.” Jogging toward the stairs that led to her apartment she shouted over her shoulder. “See you on the mat in five.”  Then she was out of site. He skirted the mat as he headed for the men’s changing room, and his locker there.

 
***

Mark Lima was the morning manager for the gym and also one of M’s top black belts; at twenty-six, he’d been studying the martial arts with M for ten years. He finished sorting the mail, tearing each pre-approved credit card form in half before putting it in the trash. Private correspondence went into M’s box along with tournament invitations. When the mail was all sorted he reached under the counter for the “Back in Five Minutes” sign, placed it in the center of the front desk where no one could miss it, grabbed the trash can and headed for the front door.

When he rounded the corner into the alley he stopped in his tracks. “Hey, get out of there,” he shouted, then broke into a sprint. The stout figure of a street person dropped over the side of the dumpster and nimbly spun around.

“Sorry, man.” He spoke in a ragged Asian accent. “I was just looking for lunch.”

Mark stopped a few feet away. “Yeah, well you won’t find it in this dumpster. Now get outta here before I call the police.” He watched until the figure rounded the corner at the far end of the alley, then dumped the trash and jogged back. He’d already been away from the front desk too long. As he stepped back behind the counter, he removed the sign and wrote himself a note to tell M about the guy in the alley. He couldn’t have anticipated the homeless man’s return to the dumpster.

Pulling a black plastic bag from beneath his filthy shirt the homeless man stood on one wheel of the dumpster. Bending sharply at the waist he was just able to reach in far enough to retrieve the trash Mark had just tossed in. Like the Grinch that stole Christmas he slung the bag over his shoulder and jogged out to the sidewalk. No one paid attention to the filthy homeless man toting the plastic bag. He shuffle-stepped to the side of an equally filthy, rusted Gremlin where he threw in the bag, climbed in after and drove off.

Chapter Eight

M back peddled away
from the flurry of punches, waiting for the pause that would occur before the next attack, then snapped off an extended snap-kick to her opponent’s solar plexus.

 Buck doubled up, eyes wide, mouth open. “Braaaaa.” He exhaled a lung full of air, stumbled back in an attempt to maintain his upright position, but failed.

M waited but he didn’t catch his breath, when his hands went to his throat she approached leaning down. Suddenly his right leg shot into her stomach as his hands grabbed her lapels. Straightening his leg he executed a perfect Tomoe-nage, throwing M head over heals, over his head, and retaining his grip, ended on top, sitting on her stomach.

“I believe the point is mine,” he said, with a smirk.

She swung a leg up giving Buck a gentle nudge to the back of the head.

“Like hell, you cheated.”

He rolled off holding the back of his head and looking at her with crossed eyes.

She jumped to her feet.

“You’re just a sucker, besides I couldn’t let you win. I’ve got a reputation to protect,” Buck said

He held out a hand for a pull up.

“I wouldn’t take that hand for all the tea in China,” she said.

He climbed to his feet and lumbered after her as she crossed the mat.

“Aw c’mon, don’t be a sore loser. You know the only way I could beat you is with a trick.”

“I’m not a sore loser!” she snapped, knowing that she had him fooled. She turned around and presented Buck with a big grin. “Gotcha.”

He stepped up to wrap her in an embrace intending a kiss, but she held a hand between them and cleared her throat. He followed the direction of her eyes and met the stare of a young female green belt.

The uniform clad student bowed. “Excuse me, Sensei. I lost my schedule. Is the weapons class in the Blossom Room?”

M returned the bow with a nod of her head. “Yes, the Blossom Room.”

Buck was surprised at her terse response.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “But green belts aren’t supposed to lose schedules or anything else for that matter. And definitely not bother Sensei about it. Now let’s get cleaned up.”

He smiled. “Yes, Sensei.”

“Knock it off,” M said, bowing off the mat, and heading to the gym area and the stairs that led to her apartment. He returned to his locker to retrieve his street clothes.

By the time he entered her apartment she was already in the bathroom, and he could hear the shower running. He knocked twice on the solid core door. “It’s open,” she said, over the sound of the water.

He walked in closing the door behind him and sat on the toilet seat. He could just make out the pale of her breasts and buttocks and when she turned, the dark patch between her legs.

“If you came in just to ogle me you can leave. If you want to talk about what Gina Davies saw this morning you can stay.”

He didn’t know what the definition of a tease was, but he was sure it started with the letter M.

“Do you know the assistant medical examiner very well?” Buck said.

 “Not at all.”

“He said the character was old Japanese and he couldn’t read it,” Buck said.

She turned off the shower and opened the translucent door just enough to stick an arm out.

“Towel.”

He grabbed the one hanging on the bathroom door and draped it over her extended arm. Arm and towel retracted and the door shut,

 “Thanks.”

 A moment later she emerged wrapped thigh to chin.

“I think he should have been able to read it,” M said. “Your turn, I think I left you some hot water.”

She began drying her long hair with a towel.

“Why would he say he couldn’t read it if he could?” Buck said. He was down to his boxers when he stopped and looked over at M. “How about a little privacy?”

“Give me a break, I’ll try not to laugh.”

He ignored her jab, dropped his shorts and climbed into the shower.

 “Why do you think he should have been able to read it?” He shouted over the patter of the water.

She dropped the towel on the floor, walked to the sink and picked up her blow dryer. “I think he’s about the right age to have been swept into an internment camp during the war. And if he’s that old you’d think he should have been able to read the character,” she shouted back, turning on the dryer.

***

 M’s apartment was like a flat; the kitchen, living room and dining room shared an open floor. The only walls closed off the bathroom and bedroom. She had a traditional Japanese dining table that she also used as a coffee table, a couch and beanbag chair. She’d just set tea and was bringing hot water to the table when Buck emerged from the bathroom on the other side of the apartment.

“I thought you were going to spend the rest of the day in there,” she said.

Buck walked across the open floor, pulled up a pillow and scooted his legs under the low table, and rubbed his stomach. “You don’t pull your punches much do you?” With his back bent unnaturally, he reached for his tea. “I suppose it’s to much to ask that you provide a chair for your guests?”

She ignored his complaining and pushed a piece of paper across the table.

“That’s what Gina described to me. Matches the character exactly.”

He turned the paper first one way then spun it around.

“Which way does it go?”

She smiled. “You had it right the first time. You stood right next to me and looked at it, what gives?

“It was on the refrigerator not a napkin. What does it mean?”

She reached across the table and took it back. 

“Retribution. I looked it up to be sure, while you were using the last of my hot water.”

He grimaced as he finished his tea, “God that stuff is bitter.”

She moved the teacups to the side, produced a cloth from beneath the table and wiped it down.

“That was traditional green tea made from a powder.”

She put the cloth away and produced a contract, sliding it across the table.

“Let’s make this official. I should at least get paid for my services. Bring me on as a consultant. One of my students discovered the crime scene, I can read the character and my PI license is already on file. What do you say?”

Without a glance he folded the document, and put it in his coat pocket. “Sounds good to me, but the decisions not mine to make. I’ll show this to Ramos this afternoon, I’m pretty sure he’ll go for it.”

He looked at his watch.

“I’ve got to get to the morgue and I’ll be up to my ear lobes in paperwork the rest of the morning.” He stood, leaned over the table, and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “Thanks again for the early lesson. I couldn’t have made it tonight.”

She got up and walked him to the door.

“I’ll give you a call as soon as I get the word from Ramos,” Buck said.

He left without attempting another kiss; she turned and rested her back against the door, staring at the floor, wondering if she should have invited him into the shower. They hadn’t made love in a month and she knew he was ready for another go, but she wasn’t. She hoped he’d wait.

When she looked up, the clock on the wall suddenly came into focus. 11:30. “Oh shit!” Where had the time gone? Her manager had asked for part of the afternoon off. She berated herself for taking so long with Buck, took the steps two at a time down to the workout area and walked into the weight room slightly out of breath.

Chapter Nine

Edward Platte was excited.
The new photographer was hot. He’d watched her climb up on the kitchen counter and decided right then that he had to have her. After all, he’d saved her job. He could just see her cornering him after work, demanding to know how she could thank him.

He extracted his key and opened the door, pushing it ajar as he fished out his mail from the box. He felt elated when he pulled out the purple plastic covered magazine, but was too excited to be content with the centerfold. He shut the door with his foot and dropped the mail on the coffee table. His computer was asleep, so he ran his fingers over the keyboard until he heard it wake up, then headed down the hall to the bedroom.