Naked Tao by Robert Grant Page A

rushed down the hallway, I looked for something that would tell me which way the killer might have headed. There were more doors on the left, the N.E. Stairs, and an elevator.  The elevator did not appear to be moving. 
    I peeked into the stairwell, but didn’t hear any footsteps.  I was about to turn back when a small bit of blood dripped at my feet. Another drop followed, but this one splattered on my wrist. I looked upward and caught a glimpse of crimson fabric. The monk was on the landing above me, waiting for my next move. 
    Rather than rush in and try to chase him down, I decided on stealth.  Ch’ing taught me that the secret to moving with stealth is balance.  The key to balanced movement is to never move a weighted foot. You must take all the weight off a foot before you move it. 
    As quietly as I could, I stepped into the stairwell and let the door close behind me. Still as a tree, I waited to see what the monk did next. He didn’t budge, so I inched toward the first step as quietly as I could. I stopped and waited again. Everything looked good, so I started up the stairs. One by one, I slowly climbed the steps. All the while, my neck stretched to catch a peek of the monk before he saw me. 
    Laying in a crumpled mess on the landing was the monk’s discarded robe. It was damp with fresh blood. Disappointment washed over me. I nudged the robe with a toe and saw a slice in it. Tiny must have gotten in some blows and gone down fighting. 
    I didn’t get a good look at the killer’s face. Without the robe to distinguish him from everyone else, I had little hope of finding him. He could be anyone. There were over three thousand people at the Center to hear Padma reveal his big secret. Finding the killer in that crowd was definitely beyond my skill level. 
    Besides, I didn’t know whether he used the stairwell to dump his disguise, or if he took the stairs to a different floor. The Kentucky Center is a big place and Tiny’s murder could be anywhere. Capturing Tiny’s killer would have to be left to the police. It was time to call them, but first I wanted to wash the blood from my hands. 
    I didn’t have any trouble finding a bathroom, but I was preoccupied and didn’t pay much attention to the sign on the door. I wish I had. Instead, I rushed in, set the knife next to the sink and began cleaning up. 
    As the blood swirled down the drain, I thought about the statement I would give to the police. That is when it hit me. I had made another huge mistake. I was in the ladies room. It is also the exact moment the door opened and Ginny walked in. 
    She took one look at me and froze before the door closed behind her. At first there was an odd confused look on her face, but then it changed to concern. “Oh my god, Grant, is that blood!?” she exclaimed. 
    I don’t know what I expected from her, but after last night I knew she was a player. More to the point, despite what Kinsey said about her, I figured she didn’t care one way or the other about me. I wasn’t sure what to think about her concerned behavior. 
    “I was just cleaning up,” I answered. “I guess I missed some.” 
    She fumbled in the purse hanging on her shoulder and said, “Let’s get you a doctor.” 
    “I’m okay,” I said. “It’s not my blood.” 
    Her concern shifted to confusion and then to shock.  “What do you mean it’s not your blood?” she asked. 
    I didn’t like the direction this was headed and said, “It belongs to someone else.” 
    I was about to explain what happened when she noticed the knife. She started to say something and then snapped her mouth shut. It was her eyes that instantly concerned me the most. They were filled with terror. I had seen the same look many times before in the eyes of witnesses I badgered during cross-examination.  I hated it. 
    Ginny took a cautious step back. When I extended a hand in her direction, her eyes widened in alarm and then she fled the room. 
    “Shit,” I