"This is an unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?"

Not liking poison much, I wanted to charge right in, guns ablazin'. If even part of what I'd heard recently was accurate, she had a lot to answer for. But I'd been told that she was a no-holds-barred competitor as well as a hard-ass lawyer, despite her cheerleader's facade. And I already knew that she didn't much like me. The forthright approach probably wouldn't work.

I went on pretending I was calm.

"I'm glad you're willing to talk to me, Ms. Rasmussen. We didn't exactly hit it off at the tournament."

"Call me Sue, Mr. Axbrewder." Her tone didn't waver. No doubt she had a lot of fun that way during cross-examinations, confusing her opponent's witnesses with honey.

"You're right, we didn't hit it off then. And we probably won't now.

But Sternway sensei values the job you're doing for Mr. Lacone and Martial America, and he wants the IAMA to give you every cooperation.

I'm sure we can be civil to each other, if we really try."

Well, I wasn't sure, but what the hell. I could go along with it, at least for a little while.

"That's good to hear, Sue." Deliberately I didn't remind her to call me Brew.

"There are several things I think you can help me with, if you don't mind."

"I'll do what I can," she promised.

I waited a beat or two, mostly for effect, then said, "Anson may've told you that I'm interested in Bernie Appelwait. The Luxury security guard who was killed at your tournament. The cops are investigating, of course, and the detective in charge seems to be doing a pretty thorough job." Sweetness Axbrewder-style.

"But I've been poking around anyway, asking the kinds of questions that might not occur to anyone else, just to see what turns up."

Apparently that caught her by surprise. She sounded perplexed as she replied, "I thought you identified Mr. Appel-wait's killer last night.

Sternway sensei told me that's why he attacked you."

"Well," I drawled with a hint of malice, "that's not quite accurate. I identified the man as a thief, not a killer. So far anything else is just supposition."

Then I got to the point.

"But in fact I'm reasonably sure he wasn't Bernie's killer. So, as I say, I've been asking questions."

"I see." She considered the idea.

"What sorts of questions?"

She disappointed me by recovering her honey and by not pushing to find out why I thought Hardshorn wasn't the killer. But I didn't really care. I had plenty of ammunition.

Without a pause I brought my guns to bear.

"Did you know Bernie at all? I mean, outside The Luxury and your tournaments?"

"Know him?" Now I heard a little strain in her voice.

"Bernie Appelwait?"

"Did the IAMA ever do any private business with him? Did you? Or Anson Sternway Shorin-Ryu Bushido? A bit of part-time security work, for example? Or maybe he arranged some quiet financing, helped you solve a cash-flow problem?"

"Mr. Axbrewder," she put in quickly, "are you suggesting that Sternway sensei is involved with loan sharks?"

I sensed a lawyer's instincts at work.

"I'm not suggesting anything," I told her firmly.

"I'm just asking questions."

"Then the answer is no." She'd abandoned sweetness for asperity the tone she probably used on opposing counsel.

"In all the years I've known Sternway sensei, or been involved with the IAMA, we've never had any dealings of any kind with Mr. Ap-pelwait outside his role as The Luxury's Chief of Security."

I refined my focus, continued maneuvering her into range.

"Was he ever a student of yours? Can you think of any personal connection that might exist between him and anyone at the IAMA, or in Anson's school? Any connection at all?"

"No. Categorically not."

I made a pretense of pausing for thought. Then I inquired, "And you'd tell me the truth about this, Sue?"

Her reaction stung across the airwaves.

"That's either an insult or a very stupid question." She bit off each word precisely.

"What makes you think I might lie to you?"

"I'll answer that," I returned promptly, "if you'll answer another for me first." Before she could refuse, I asked, "What's the real reason Anson hasn't moved into Martial America?"

"What do you mean," she countered, " 'the real reason'? What reason have you heard?"

I snorted.

"Money and politics. Martial America costs too much. And Anson doesn't want to get caught in the middle of potential conflicts between schools."

"And that doesn't make sense to you? It sounds perfectly reasonable to me."

"No," I retorted, "it doesn't make sense. Lacone has too much to gain by attracting Anson's business. He's eager to make a deal Anson can afford. And as for politics " She cut me off.

"Stop right there, Mr. Axbrewder. You're already wrong. Mr. Lacone is eager to make a deal Sternway sensei could afford if he didn't already have financial problems.

"In case you haven't heard, he's trying to divorce his wife. And she's contesting it. In fact, she's doing everything in her power to leave him destitute. She was extravagant before they separated. I swear to God, the man was a saint with her. But now she's determined to gut his assets. As a school, we survive where we are on a month-by-month basis. Under the circumstances, Sternway sensei certainly can't commit himself to the kind of long-term lease Mr. Lacone wants.

"I'm trying to be cooperative here," she finished, "but I think you have a hell of a nerve suggesting that I might not tell you the truth."

Gotcha, I thought. If Sternway heard what she just said, he'd probably demote her. Hell, he might even kick her out of his bed. The last thing a balls-to-the-wall fighter like him would want was to be exposed as a pussy-whipped weakling who couldn't defend himself against his own wife.

Sue Rasmussen I was sure of this had told me too much about money because she didn't want to talk about politics.