why he was killing people. Or why he hadn’t killed her. Where the alley met the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street half expecting him to jump out.
The two big bay windows of the studio that looked out into the street were clean. Peering in, the activity pleased her. Half a dozen students and several people she didn’t recognize, were moving one of the thousand-pound, multi-station weight machines across the floor on a four-wheeled platform. Mark Lima rushed up to her when she passed through the turnstile.
“Sensei,” he gave a short bow, “we’re moving all the machines to the side of the room to make a clear space for the new ones to be rolled in.”
“Great,” she said, pausing briefly to scan the activity then hustling across the room toward the stairs. “I’ll be down in a minute to let you know when they’ll arrive.”
She tried to take the steps up to her apartment two at a time but stopped when her ribs started to ache. When she got to the door, she noticed that the lock and door jamb had been replaced. She had to jiggle the new key Andy had given her to get it into the lock. The door opened smoothly when she gave it a push, but she didn’t enter at once. Instead, she took a moment to re-create the attack in her mind. When she stepped in, she stopped at the spot where she’d come up from her roll, where she’d first been kicked, then looked to her right where she thought the homeless man was standing when she entered. It was funny how she kept thinking of her attacker as a homeless man, but why the disguise? If he’d gone to the trouble to camp out in the alley and scope her out why didn’t he follow through and kill her?
She crossed the room and picked the phone up off the kitchen counter, crossing to the bedroom talking continuously, switching the phone from ear to ear, and pinching it between shoulder and ear as she changed clothes. Finally hanging up as she sat on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on. Odd someone had paid off her Unical card and closed the account.
She used the key to throw the deadbolt and slowly walked down the stairs, watching the activity as she descended. Mark met her at the foot of the steps.
“Tomorrow between ten and noon,” M said.
Mark gave a short bow. “I’ll have everything ready.”
He sensed that she wanted to ask him something, “Yes, Sensei?”
She closed to within a short foot of Mark and spoke in soft tones. “Did you ever notice a homeless man hanging around?”
Mark flushed and looked at his feet. “Yes. I saw him in the alley, dumpster diving when I was emptying the trash. He said he was looking for something to eat.”
M sharpened her tone. “When?
“The day you were attacked,” Mark said. “I had written you a note, but when you gave me the day off, I spaced it.”
She swallowed her anger. He didn’t know the homeless man was her attacker.
“That’s alright, Mark. I’m going to be out the rest of the day, I’ll let you lock up.”
He started to bow then straightened up. “Would you like me to open tomorrow morning?”
She wasn’t sure what the night would bring but it would probably be a late one. The note on the wall had said “tonight” but hadn’t designated a time.
“Good idea. Thank you, domo arigato.”
She stopped again before she left, making sure to compliment and thank everyone for their efforts. She paused before entering the alley. There was no place for anyone to hide except beside or inside the dumpster. She walked around the dumpster then opened the lid. The inside was clean and all the garbage was bagged. There was nothing to eat and surely nothing of value. Although it was her dumpster, the bookstore across the alley used it on occasion, but rarely dumped anything but paper products.
She took a minute to put the top back up on the Fiat, unbraiding her hair and putting it in a pony-tail. She not only made the light at Spyglass Hill, but managed to pass an RV before the two lanes of Main
The two big bay windows of the studio that looked out into the street were clean. Peering in, the activity pleased her. Half a dozen students and several people she didn’t recognize, were moving one of the thousand-pound, multi-station weight machines across the floor on a four-wheeled platform. Mark Lima rushed up to her when she passed through the turnstile.
“Sensei,” he gave a short bow, “we’re moving all the machines to the side of the room to make a clear space for the new ones to be rolled in.”
“Great,” she said, pausing briefly to scan the activity then hustling across the room toward the stairs. “I’ll be down in a minute to let you know when they’ll arrive.”
She tried to take the steps up to her apartment two at a time but stopped when her ribs started to ache. When she got to the door, she noticed that the lock and door jamb had been replaced. She had to jiggle the new key Andy had given her to get it into the lock. The door opened smoothly when she gave it a push, but she didn’t enter at once. Instead, she took a moment to re-create the attack in her mind. When she stepped in, she stopped at the spot where she’d come up from her roll, where she’d first been kicked, then looked to her right where she thought the homeless man was standing when she entered. It was funny how she kept thinking of her attacker as a homeless man, but why the disguise? If he’d gone to the trouble to camp out in the alley and scope her out why didn’t he follow through and kill her?
She crossed the room and picked the phone up off the kitchen counter, crossing to the bedroom talking continuously, switching the phone from ear to ear, and pinching it between shoulder and ear as she changed clothes. Finally hanging up as she sat on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on. Odd someone had paid off her Unical card and closed the account.
She used the key to throw the deadbolt and slowly walked down the stairs, watching the activity as she descended. Mark met her at the foot of the steps.
“Tomorrow between ten and noon,” M said.
Mark gave a short bow. “I’ll have everything ready.”
He sensed that she wanted to ask him something, “Yes, Sensei?”
She closed to within a short foot of Mark and spoke in soft tones. “Did you ever notice a homeless man hanging around?”
Mark flushed and looked at his feet. “Yes. I saw him in the alley, dumpster diving when I was emptying the trash. He said he was looking for something to eat.”
M sharpened her tone. “When?
“The day you were attacked,” Mark said. “I had written you a note, but when you gave me the day off, I spaced it.”
She swallowed her anger. He didn’t know the homeless man was her attacker.
“That’s alright, Mark. I’m going to be out the rest of the day, I’ll let you lock up.”
He started to bow then straightened up. “Would you like me to open tomorrow morning?”
She wasn’t sure what the night would bring but it would probably be a late one. The note on the wall had said “tonight” but hadn’t designated a time.
“Good idea. Thank you, domo arigato.”
She stopped again before she left, making sure to compliment and thank everyone for their efforts. She paused before entering the alley. There was no place for anyone to hide except beside or inside the dumpster. She walked around the dumpster then opened the lid. The inside was clean and all the garbage was bagged. There was nothing to eat and surely nothing of value. Although it was her dumpster, the bookstore across the alley used it on occasion, but rarely dumped anything but paper products.
She took a minute to put the top back up on the Fiat, unbraiding her hair and putting it in a pony-tail. She not only made the light at Spyglass Hill, but managed to pass an RV before the two lanes of Main
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