Twenty minutes later Flack and Danny were talking to the owner of Tachi Saya while Olivia chatted with a few of the students. They'd walked in during the middle of a class and found the owner of the dojo, Marcus Christian, dressed in the customary white karate suit tied with a black belt, he'd been showing the small group of twelve students the correct way to handle a Katana sword during battle.
'We understand he'd been coming here two years?' Flack said to Christian; a tall man, not as tall as Flack but almost. His hair was blond, thick and wiry and although he wasn't a particularly muscular man he was certainly strong and athletic looking.
Marcus Christian nodded his head. 'That's right,' he confirmed. 'Pat was one of my finest students.'
'How fine?' Danny wondered.
'The finest I ever had the pleasure to teach. Moments into our first lesson I knew he had the ability to become a great swordsman,' Christian explained.
'Guy's place was full of awards, he really was good,' Flack told Danny.
'Indeed,' Christian agreed. 'Almost as good as myself.'
Danny lifted an eyebrow, this guy was confident if anything. 'It was just Katana he was interested in?' he asked.
'Yes. Although he knew how to handle many swords, Samurai was where his heart lay.'
'When'd you last see him?'
Christian thought for a moment and said, 'Our last lesson was Monday night.'
The night Patrick Maxwell was killed.
'And what time did that finish up?' asked Danny.
'Around eight, I think it was.'
'And most of the students,' Flack said gesturing to the dozen milling around the room, 'were they here too?'
'A few of them. I teach many different classes. Morning, afternoon, night. Pat was in my night class and a few of the students you see here today participate in more than one session,' explained Christian.
'Did any of them have a beef with Mr. Maxwell?' asked Danny.
'Everyone gets along famously in all of my classes.'
'Not what I asked.'
Marcus Christian frowned. 'Are you suggesting that Pat was killed by one of my students?'
'Mr. Maxwell was murdered with a Samurai sword,' said Danny. 'Not many people, unless experienced, would know how to handle one. Could you take hold of yours for me?'
Another frown split Christian's brow as he looked from Danny to Flack back to Danny. 'What will that prove?'
Danny crossed his arms over his chest. 'Humor me.'
'But - '
'Humor him,' Flack said. He wasn't sure where Danny was going with it but he obviously had a reason for asking.
Christian sighed. 'Very well.' He went to the rack where he'd placed his Katana earlier and picked it up. Then looked at both Detectives. 'Anything else?'
'Wave it around,' Danny suggested. He wanted to see how the man handled the sword.
'Wave it around?' Christian looked affronted by such a request. 'Detective, one does not wave a Katana. The sword is considered to be the very soul of the Samurai warrior - '
'Yeah, that's all very interesting, Mr. Christian, but could you just do as he says?' said Flack.
The man sighed, clearly agitated, but performed the request. He lifted the sword, sliced through the air a couple of times and then lowered it dramatically to the floor, giving both Flack and Danny a look of distaste as he did. 'Was that meant to be a test of some sort? Because if so, I can tell you now I did not kill Patrick Maxwell.'
'Sir,' Olivia said coming up behind Flack and Danny; she'd finished interviewing the students. 'Could I take a look at that?' She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and held out her hand for the sword.
'Oh, for heaven's sake, am I a suspect? This is preposterous!' Christian bristled. 'What possible motive would I have to kill Pat? I told you, he was one of my finest stu - '
'No one's implying anything,' Olivia told him, hand still outstretched. 'I just want to take a look.'
'You obviously know nothing of the history of this sacred weapon, Detective,' Marcus Christian said, a hint of disgust in his voice. 'The Japanese pinned an extraordinary amount of value on the sword, only Samurai were allowed to touch or carry such a weapon.'
Now it was Flack's turn to sigh in agitation. 'Yeah, we all watch Jeopardy! Give her the sword, Mr. Christian. She's not asking for your soul.'
The dojo owner turned his cool blue eyes onto Flack. 'The Katana is the soul of the Samurai, Detective.'
'You said that already. Hand it over, sir.' Flack was losing patience and wondering why the hell the guy was so touchy about his sword.
'This is borderline harassment,' Christian said, but handed the sword almost ceremonially to Olivia. 'Please, be careful with it.'
She took the sword and examined the blade closely. 'You keep it in tip-top condition. It's very clean.'
'It's all part of the honor of being a Samurai,' said Christian.
'Only you're not a Samurai. You're a martial arts instructor,' Danny cut in.
Christian slid him a look and sighed. 'When not in use you have to keep your weapon clean, sheathed and safely stored in a katana-kake,' he gestured to the wooden rack behind where he had taken the sword from, 'at all times. It's considered an insult otherwise. I teach all my students to keep their replicas in pristine condition.'
'Only this isn't a replica,' Olivia said looking at him. 'This is the real deal.'
Both Flack and Danny turned to look at Christian who immediately wilted beneath their pointed gazes. 'Well, yes, I mean...of course it's real,' he stammered. 'I am after all the Master and the Master cannot perform using a replica. It's unheard of.'
'The Master?' Danny repeated. 'Okay, then maybe the Master can explain something. If you teach with this very real sword, you gotta have some very real insurance cover. Because if not you can consider yourself and this class a liability.'
'You ever caught one of your students, Mr. Christian?' Flack jumped in.
He looked offended. 'Are you mocking my proficiency? I've been handling Katanas and indeed many swords, for almost two decades now. I'm always careful. Always,' he reiterated.
'Fair enough.' Danny looked at Olivia, she had wiped over the blade with a swab soaked with Phenolphthalien and the swabs color hadn't changed.
'Clean.'
Danny nodded and turned back to Christian. 'This the only sword you got?'
'It's the only Katana I own,' he amended. 'I have many other types of sword, however.'
'Not interested in those. So, just to clarify, all your students use replicas?'
'All of them.'
'I can confirm that,' Olivia said. 'The students I spoke with said the swords they use were synthetic.'
Marcus Christian looked smug. 'So, my sword is clean and my class is disrupted. Tell me, Detectives, did this little experiment prove anything?' He even sounded smug.
All three Detectives looked at him. Olivia handed the sword back to him and didn't say anything as she pulled off her gloves and closed up her field kit.
'Someone sliced Patrick Maxwell's face off,' Flack reminded him and he wasn't being gentle about it. 'We have reason to believe that someone has access to a Katana.'
'And that someone knew exactly what he was doing. He was careful,' Danny said coolly, gauging the reactions on Christian's face. 'Didn't even nick the jaw-line and missed the brain completely. You said Patrick Maxwell was one of your finest. So the two of you were friends?'
'We were friendly. We often went out for a beer.'
'Maybe you could show some compassion then.' Danny stared him down and Christian finally relented. He dropped his eyes, sighed heavily and nodded his head.
'He was a good man and an exceptional student,' he said. 'His presence will be missed around the class.' He wasn't aware of the droll looks the three Detectives were giving each other. He took another moment to collect his thoughts, and then lifted his head. 'Now, you've already taken up too much of my time. If that is all...'
*
Olivia had settled herself at a database with a mug of black coffee and a Butterfinger and set to work finding out as much as she could about the Samurai. It was, to say the very least, scintillating stuff. Marcus Christian had been right about one thing, the Samurai were extremely honorable, they were almost akin to military aristocracy; and he'd been spot on when he'd said the sword was the soul of the Samurai. For much of Japan's history, only Samurai were allowed the honor to carry the sacred sword and if a peasant was found to be carrying one, it was reason enough for the man to be killed and his sword taken. In the eyes of the Samurai these men were considered 'soulless'.
There was a chapter alone explaining just how a Samurai might enter a person's house and place his sheathed sword as he knelt. That got her thinking about how Marcus Christian had handed her his sword. According to her research depending on which way the Samurai placed his sword was an indication as to the reason behind the visit. Positioning the sword for an easy draw implied suspicion or aggression and whether he placed it to his left or right side, with the blade curving away or towards his body, was an important part of etiquette.
If Olivia's memory served her correct, Christian had handed her his sword with the curved blade facing out - a sign of aggression. Had he just been mad at having his class interrupted? Or was there something more sinister at play? She was still mulling it all over when Danny made an entrance.
'How's it comin', Duke?' he asked, wheeling up a chair and sitting down beside her.
'It's gripping stuff,' she told him. 'What you hear and read, the legends...it's not until you discover it all for yourself that you realise just what they were all about.'
Danny scanned the computer screen. 'So you gonna enrol in one of Master Christian's classes?'
'Hardly. It's just fascinating reading.'
'Yeah,' Danny agreed and began reading the next chapter out loud. 'Most Samurai did not use their sword as a primary weapon, they would use a bow then a spear and only if all their efforts had failed, would they draw their sword. When down to the last straw, and to have fought until nothing but a surrender was possible, drawing the sword was like letting the soul blaze free.' Danny nodded. 'These guys didn't kill for fun, they did it because they had no choice.'
'It says here,' Olivia said scrolling a little further down, 'surrendering their sword was considered a token of submission.'
'That's how the custom of taking a disgraced officer's sword from him came to be,' said Mac who had just entered the room. Both CSIs turned to look at their supervisor and when Olivia felt the first tickle of butterflies she turned back to focus her attention on the screen. She hated feeling like this but didn't know how to turn it off.
'If he was guilty of submission and dismissed from the service in disgrace,' Mac went on, 'the blade was broken. The Samurai believed that the sword was the mark of an officer and a gentleman.'
'This Samurai stuff is heavy-duty. How do you know so much about it?' Danny asked him. 'I imagine Beirut back in '83 was very different to 14th century Japan.'
Mac glanced at Olivia, and feeling his eyes on her she turned her head. His eyebrows lifted and she smiled. 'As supervisor of this lab, it's his duty to know a little something about everything,' she quoted his words to her the day before.
'Well, if he knows so much about everything then someone needs to explain why we have this database right here,' Danny grinned giving the screen a gentle knock. 'When we can just come to the boss for all the info.'
'Now where would be the fun in that?' asked Mac.
'Plenty fun for us, not having to endure all the mind-numbing research.'
'It's all part of the job,' Mac said. 'How far you got on this?'
'We've made a huge leap,' Olivia told him.
Danny frowned at her. 'We have?'
'I was about to tell you. Back at the dojo when Christian handed me his sword? He handed it with the blade curving towards my body.'
'Uhuh. So?'
'So,' she spun round in the chair and faced the screen again, scrolling up to the previous chapter, to read out loud, 'positioning the sword for an easy draw implied suspicion or aggression. And whether he placed it to his left or right side, with the blade curving away or towards his body, was an important part of etiquette.' She looked at Danny. 'Now unless Marcus Christian just forgot the Samurai protocol, I'd say the fact that he handed me the sword the way he did is an important factor in our case.'
Mac was nodding his head. 'Unless he had something to hide, he would have handed you his sword the right way. The blade facing his body.'
Olivia nodded. 'His attitude the whole time we were there was cagey and not forgetting his complete lack of compassion at the loss of a fine swordsman and apparent friend.'
'Agreed,' nodded Danny. 'Guy was in his class for two years and didn't Flack say something about trophies and awards on display in Maxwell's apartment?'
'He did.'
'I also remember Christian saying something about how Patrick Maxwell was almost as good a swordsman as he was,' Danny said thoughtfully and looked at Olivia. 'Touch of the green-eyed monster, maybe?'
'Something's off.'
Danny was feeling that. He had felt it back at the dojo. 'You swabbed his sword...'
'He told us that Katana was his only one.' Olivia shook her head. 'I don't buy it. He's been teaching classes for over twenty years, he'll have more than one. I think we need to pay Master Christian another visit.'
'I'll whip us up a warrant,' Danny said. 'If he's packing another Katana we need to find it.' He got up off the chair. 'I'll get hold of Flack.'
After Danny had left Mac turned to Olivia. 'Good work,' he said, with a smile.
'Just a gut instinct. Not enough to call it evidence, just opinion,' she replied. 'Any luck with your party girl?'
Mac resisted the urge to smile and shook his head. 'Not much. Her bankcard was stolen and we managed to snag some footage of a guy using the card at an ATM in Brooklyn. Too grainy to get a clear view of his face.' He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. 'He didn't clean the account so it's a matter of waiting for him to use the card again.'
'Weird he didn't take it all. But give him enough rope and he'll hang himself.'
'People's greed no longer surprises me. I'm sure he'll be back for more.' He briefly paused. 'I know you're busy, but can I ask you something?'
'Sure.'
'Is everything alright?'
He had a habit of doing that. Dropping in those highly loaded, out of the blue questions. It was probably what made him an exceptional Detective. She was getting used to it now. 'Why would you ask?'
'Earlier. When you ran into me, I got the feeling there was something on your mind.'
Earlier. Right. Olivia was sure she could feel her cheeks pinken. Which was so not like her. She never blushed or got embarrassed. Don't forget the girlish laughter. It just wasn't her. But it wasn't because he had asked; it was because she was reminded of the hard pressure of his body bumping up against hers. 'No, no, everything's great, Mac. Just, y'know, tired...usual CSI complaint.'
'If you need a couple days off...'
She shook her head. 'It's all good. Besides I have this Sunday off.' But it wasn't a day she was looking forward to. It was the twelve-year commemoration of Charlie and Lily's death. Her flight to Boston was booked but it was a trip she wasn't relishing making. But the day off had already been scheduled and her flight couldn't be cancelled. Besides she had never missed an anniversary yet.
'Then spend it wisely,' Mac advised. 'Rest up.'
'Easier said than done,' she mused.
He nodded, understanding completely. Or so he thought, anyway. When he couldn't sleep, which was often, he worked. Olivia was the same. He had often come into the lab at two in the morning to finish off some paperwork or reports to find her sitting at a workstation staring into a microscope.
'Olivia, have you...considered any more visits to Dr. Rennick?' he hedged.
She immediately felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck. When her cell phone rang she wanted to breath a sigh of relief. 'Sorry. Excuse me,' she told Mac and answered it. 'Cordukes.'
'There she is, my sexy scientist,' said Flack. 'You about done?'
'Almost. Give or take ten minutes,' she said watching Mac as he moved closer to the workstation to read through her research.
'Well, I'm done here. What say I swing by and take you out somewhere nice, how does Thai food and fine wine sound?'
'Sounds good, but I'm pretty beat. I wouldn't be much company.'
'Even asleep you're great company. C'mon, let me take you away from it all for a couple hours and whatever comes next I'll leave up to you.'
She knew exactly what he meant by that and it was a very hard offer to turn down. Especially when she really liked the guy. But she was so very aware of Mac standing beside her, he wasn't listening in on her conversation but he was standing a little too close; so close she could smell faint soap and warm skin. She felt her body react. If she shifted they would be touching. Her pulse began to trip and she forced herself to lean away from him.
'Okay,' she said to Flack. 'I'll meet you outside in fifteen.'
'Lookin' forward to it already.'
Olivia ended the call. This was what she couldn't get past. How much she liked Flack and enjoyed his company and yet...Mac chose that moment to turn his head and smile at her, his blue eyes twinkling beneath the fluorescent lighting in the lab.
'Sorry about that,' she said to him.
'No problem,' he said. 'Date?'
'It would seem so.'
'Have fun.'
'I always try.'
He smiled and turned to leave. By the door he stopped and turned. She had gone back to her research, her fingers tapping on the keyboard. 'Olivia?' He waited until she met his eyes. 'I don't want to seem like I'm pushing, but I think you should consider another meeting with Dr. Rennick.'
Olivia resisted the urge to sigh. 'It's a waste of time, Mac. I can't - '
'I know you can't. Which is exactly why you should consider it,' he said and left, but not before giving her one of his trademark contemplative looks and leaving her to mull it all over.
*
The waitress, a petite Thai girl whose nametag said KANYA, uncorked the bottle of white wine, poured a small amount into Flack's glass and took a step back, waiting. Flack lifted the glass and before taking a sip ruined the refined moment by winking at Olivia over the rim. She just smiled. He sipped, swallowed and nodded at the waitress.
'Perfect, thank you.'
The waitress poured two glasses and then drifted away. Olivia rested an elbow on the table, dropped her chin into her hand and smiled at him.
'What?' he asked, smiling back. Purely because one from her always brought one out in him. It was one of the things he loved about her the most. If he'd had an especially tough day, like today, one of her smiles never failed to lift him.
'Quit all the gourmet nonsense. You're ruining my impression of you as a regular guy.'
He laughed, the laughter lines around his eyes creasing. When he warmly looked at her across the table there was a definite twinkle in those baby blues. 'Regular or not, I appreciate fine wine as much as the next guy.'
'Uhuh. What about trying one of those then?' Olivia said nodding at the plate of oysters in the middle of the table. They hadn't ordered them; the waitress had served them as an appetiser until their meal arrived.
Flack made a face, one of his dark eyebrows lifting. 'Uh,' he gave his head a shake, 'I'm thinking no.'
'Don't disappoint me now,' she teased. 'You make a girl believe you're refined and adventurous, yet you won't try an oyster?'
'In a nutshell, yeah. And I fail to see how eating something that looks like a slug can be considered refined.'
She chuckled, picked up one of the tiny forks, speared an oyster, dipped it in the cocktail sauce and slid it into her mouth swallowing it. 'They're actually rather good. A little slimy...but you don't have to chew them, you swallow them whole.'
'I'll take your word for it,' he said picking up his wine and taking a drink.
Olivia speared another oyster and offered it to him. 'Go on, live dangerously,' she winked.
'I'm NYPD, I got all the danger I need.'
'Broaden your horizons, Flack.'
'My horizons are broad enough, thank you.'
'Have you ever tried one?'
'Nope. Don't intend to, either. I could never get past the way they look. Or the way they look could never get past my lips.'
'They're considered an aphrodisiac...'
He caught her faint smile and grinned back at her. 'I see where you're going with this. Like I need a slimy looking slug thing to assist me in that department.'
She leaned toward him with the oyster, her voice low. 'Let me get this past your lips and I'll reward you with one get out of jail free card.'
This time he laughed. 'An open invitation to do whatever I want?'
'Do, ask, your call. C'mon, I chose a small one.' She waved the quivering oyster in front of him. He smiled at her.
'You're not gonna let this go, huh? But alright, seeing as how you upped the stakes, just one.' He leaned forward to receive the oyster. 'I swear, you withdraw the free card, I'll never speak to you again.'
'Sure you will.'
Another grin spread over his face at her confidence. But she was right. 'You're killing me, Olivia, y'know that?' But he opened his mouth anyway and she fed him the oyster. He grimaced slightly, first noting the strange texture then the cocktail sauce and finally the oyster. His brows drew together thoughtfully as he swallowed. And when it was gone, he shrugged. 'It wasn't as bad as I thought,' he said even though he was reaching for his wine.
Olivia smiled and drew back, watching as he took a couple of chugs. 'You hated it, right?'
He refilled his glass and took another chug. 'Worse thing I ever tasted,' he admitted, needing to take just one more to rid his mouth of the foul ocean-tasting thing.
Olivia laughed. 'Fine wine's your limit then?'
'Fine wine, beautiful women...' Smiling, he reached across the table and took her hand in his, baby blues twinkling in the candlelight. She rolled her eyes at him.
'I think the oyster's gone to your head.'
'Actually, I think that's you. No woman has ever managed to make me do something I never wanted.'
'You ate an oyster, Flack. It's not like I asked you to skydive off the Chrysler Building.'
'I think you're missing my point.'
'And what is your point?' His thumb was gently caressing the back of her hand in slow, circular movements. It felt nice. Maybe it felt too nice. But she didn't want to pull away.
'That you're both good and bad for me. In equal proportions.'
They shared a smile.
'Okay. So...what? Are you complaining or...?'
'I got no complaints. Although, we might have to talk about the skydive thing.'
'Don't worry about it. I like your head exactly where it is.'
'And the rest of me?' he grinned at her.
'No complaints here, either. So when's the free card come into play?'
Flack snorted and picked up his wine. 'I'm saving that baby.'
'For what?' she asked.
'Later.' He winked at her. 'Guy'd be a fool to use it carelessly.'
'Okay, but just so we're clear, I draw the line at S&M or anything involving leather for that matter,' she told him with a smile.
'No problem,' he shrugged, placing his glass down. 'But we're good with handcuffs, right?'
Olivia laughed. She was fast discovering that the more time she spent with Flack, the more she enjoyed being with him. There really wasn't anything to not like about him. He was easy on the eye, great in the sack, had a wonderful sense of humor and shared the same driven passion for his career as she did.
It was like opening a tube of Pringles and telling yourself to only take a few to satisfy the craving but realising that once you start popping you can't stop. Olivia found herself not even halfway down the tube and she wasn't ready to stop snacking on Flack just yet.
Not by a long shot.
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COPYRIGHT. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Debra Jay. 2006