Words With Fiends by Ali Brandon Page A

The officer rose again and moved over to Robert. The teen had composed himself now, though he still clung to Roma like a child with a stuffed toy. They went over the same questions, and when he was finished, Robert demanded, “Where did the ambulance take him? Will Master Tomlinson be okay?”
    Wing gave them the name of the hospital before adding, “I know this is going to sound harsh, but don’t get your hopes up. The docs will do everything they can for him, but the guy is in pretty bad shape.”
    â€œBut he had a pulse,” Robert protested, his tone angry now.
    â€œYeah, I saw you doing chest compressions. If your sensei has any sort of chance of pulling through, it’s because of you.” Then, glancing around the mat, the young cop shook his shaved head. “A real shame, too. He was a pretty big name back in the old days.”
    â€œYeah,” Robert glumly agreed. “There’s, you know, pictures on the wall.”
    The cop, meanwhile, was warming to the topic.
    â€œWhen I was a kid, I trained at Tiger Lee’s dojo across town. We had a pretty big rivalry going with the TAMA guys in those days, and I don’t think my sensei liked Master Tomlinson much. I never figured out why, because from what I saw of him at some of the tournaments, he was an okay guy. Maybe it was because he was an American kicking Asian butt,” Wing added with a hint of a smile.
    Then, recalling his duty, the cop spared another look at his notes. “I know you two are just students here, but you know anyone connected with the dojo . . . partner, spouse, kids . . . that we should notify?”
    â€œActually, Master Tomlinson’s stepsons work here at the dojo,” Darla ventured. “And he’s got a wife . . . Maybe she’s an ex, I don’t know. But there’s a phone list hanging in his office with their names on it.”
    â€œGreat, lead the way.”
    Darla escorted the cop to the sensei’s office. Wing scribbled down the names from the list into his notebook, and then frowned. “Hank and Hal Tomlinson,” he mused. “Those are his stepsons, right? I still remember those guys from the tournaments. Both of them were real—” He broke off and looked faintly embarrassed.
    â€œReal jerks?” Darla helpfully supplied, drawing a wry smile from the man.
    â€œYeah, that about covers it.” He paused and scanned the desk top, and then caught Darla’s questioning gaze.
    â€œI didn’t want to say anything in front of the kid out there, but from what I’ve seen so far, it doesn’t look like the old guy had a heart attack.”
    â€œHe tried to commit suicide, didn’t he?” Darla asked, feeling her chest clench a little as she finally gave voice to her suspicions.
    The cop nodded. “That’s my opinion, yeah. And it’s pretty cliché, but in cases like that we always like to look around for a note. There’s usually not one, but you never know. I don’t suppose you and Mr. Gilmore found anything you forgot to tell me about?”
    â€œYou mean, like some kind of good-bye to his family? No, we didn’t find anything like that,” Darla assured him in a shaky voice.
    The cop nodded. “Well, let’s wait and see if he pulls through. If the worst happens”—he shot a sidelong look at Robert outside the office door, and lowered his voice—“we’ll dig a little deeper.”
    Flipping closed his notebook, he gestured Darla back to the vestibule and added, “Now, why don’t you grab your stuff, and let’s get out of here. I’ll check in with the hospital and let you know how Master Tomlinson is doing.”
    Leaving Robert with the officer, Darla hurried back to the training area and retrieved her bag. Then, steeling herself, she went back to the dressing room to retrieve Robert’s gear. Already the dojo had taken on an air