"If I were you," I added before he had a chance to reply, "I wouldn't even arrest Nakahatchi sensei. You don't need to. He'll be here whenever you want him."

Some of the streaks on Mitsuku's face looked like gratitude. As far as I could tell, her husband hadn't heard me.

For a long moment, Moy stared at me like he was trying to guess how much of my mind I'd actually lost. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

"You know I can't do that." A heartbeat later he announced, "But you are most definitely going to talk to me."

"Sure." I let a bit of my anger go.

"But let's take it downstairs."

I meant, Let's spare Nakahatchi and his wife the indignity of listening to us. Moy accepted the suggestion for a different reason, however. He didn't want Essential Shotokan's people to hear anything that might help them invent an alibi.

Hideo let me see the raw, bleak questions in his eyes. I wanted to reassure him, but I couldn't. Not without facts. The truth was that I didn't really have anything to tell Moy. I just wanted to get him alone. Maybe then he'd share what he had so far.

Despite the detective's impatience, I took the time to bow to Nakahatchi. He surprised me by bowing back.

Shaken by his response, I blurted out, "Sensei, I'll deal with this."

Somehow.

"I know I'm not ready to be your student. But I can do my job. This insult won't stand."

Nakahatchi said nothing. He'd already returned to his contemplation of distances and depths I couldn't see. But Mitsuku offered me a wan troubled smile and bowed deeply.

I replied awkwardly, then bowed to Komatori and turned away.

Together Moy and I trudged down the stairs. My shirt stuck to my arms and torso. The damp fabric rubbed at my armpits. My pants felt like a cold second skin. Soon I'd start shivering again.

Moy nodded to the uniforms, sent the woman upstairs to keep an eye on Nakahatchi, then led me into the smaller dojo, the one with all the training equipment. I left the .45, the phone, and my jacket where they were.

He confronted me in the middle of the floor.

"Not exactly impartial about this, are you, Axbrewder?" He'd lost his usual disinterest.

"You need to be careful here. You're looking more and more like an accessory."

"I can see that." I didn't waste time denying the obvious.

"But for the record, I didn't call Komatori to warn him you were coming. That was an afterthought. When you told me Hong was dead, I wanted to know if the chops were safe."

My wet shoes clamped a chill around my feet. The leather stuck to my skin.

"Alex Lacone didn't hire me to bodyguard anyone," I explained.

"Men like Hong are better qualified to take care of themselves than I am. My job is the chops. When you called, my first reaction was the same as yours. Why would anyone risk tackling a trained killer like Hong? Whoever did it must've had a powerful motive.

"I don't know anything about Hong's personal life. Maybe he's got enemies. From what I've heard, he imports his relatives into this country as fast as he can. Maybe one of them offended some Hong Kong triad, or a Chinese Tong." This was all chaff, but I threw it in Moy's eyes with both hands.

"I wouldn't know.

"But here, in Martial America, those chops are the only motive I can imagine. I called Komatori because I had to know if they were safe."

Shivers started in my legs. My knees shook. I locked them to try to hold them steady, but it didn't work.

"Since they aren't " I finished lamely.

"That's not what I heard." Moy sounded calmer. Maybe he thought my obfuscation meant that I was being cooperative.

I frowned.

"What did you hear?"

Why had T'ang Wen accused Nakahatchi?

"When we got the call," Moy told me, "the only other person over there was Hong's head student, T'ang Wen. According to him, he heard something during the night. He was worried about his master he says you warned him his master was in danger so he went to the other apartment, knocked a few times. When his master didn't answer, he used a spare key to let himself in."

"Just a minute." I needed details.

"The apartments had different keys?"

I didn't want the detective to ask me why I'd warned T'ang.

"According to T'ang," Moy answered.

"Does either one of them open the dojo?"

"T'ang's does. Hong was the only one with a separate key for his apartment."

I nodded. That complicated the killer's situation.

Lightning glared through the windows. God's kettledrums pounded hard enough to rattle the glass.

"Go on."

With one finger, Moy stroked both sides of his mustache thoughtfully.

Considering the question of access? Wondering why I thought keys were important? Then he shrugged to himself.

"T'ang found Hong dead in his bed. It didn't take a forensics expert to know he had a broken neck. T'ang called us. He said he didn't touch or move anything."

Tremors climbed into my belly. In another minute my voice would shake.

"If the door was locked, how did the killer get in?"

Moy let disgust twist his mouth.

"Bedroom window."

A window. Oh, shit. That possibility had never occurred to me. Garner lived on AC. I'd assumed that no one here ever left a window open on purpose.