Flowers for Her Grave - By Judy Clemons Page 0,57

I can go back to complaining about the people?”

“No.”

“Fine. At least take the key with you, so you can check the drawer after class.”

Casey slid the key onto her key ring, stuck her salad in the fridge, and made her way downstairs to the aerobics room. “Do you think the person who was in my apartment last night was looking for the key?”

“Doubtful.” Death slid down the railing. “Those two weeks, remember? They had plenty of time to toss the place.”

“Which means they really were searching for dirt on me.”

“Afraid so.”

Casey found a full house when she arrived in the aerobics room. She didn’t really have a feel for this class yet. The group that had gathered two days earlier had been a much different demographic from the earlier classes, except for Sissy, who had come and given up halfway through. Today looked like the same bunch as before, mostly young women on their lunch breaks. Some of them were monsters, as if they’d been using weights for more than just a one-hour class three times a week. Casey’s heart lifted. Here were women who actually cared about fitness, and weren’t just there to put in the time and say they exercised. She liked it.

“So,” one of the women said, stepping in Casey’s path. “You the one who found Andrea?”

Casey gazed up at the tall, coffee-skinned woman, and her abs constricted the way they did when she was preparing to fight. It was the woman she’d seen several times before—in the weight room, across the lobby, staring up at her room from the pool. Up close the woman looked even bigger. Casey reminded herself that she was in a yuppie condo, and not a back alley. This was a Flamingo resident, not an opponent in the ring. She took a step back. “That’s right.”

The woman studied her, checking out her eyes, her physique, and the way her hands hung loose at her sides. “You’ve been hit recently.”

“I thought those scars were gone.”

“Nah, I can see it. I’ve had ’em myself.” The woman frowned. “But they’re not so recent as two days ago, when Andrea was attacked.” The woman nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “My name’s Tamille Jackson.”

“Hello, Tamille. It’s time for class. Are you ready to—”

Tamille slapped at the side of Casey’s head, her hand open. “My point.” Tamille smiled with one half of her mouth, and came at Casey with her left hand, not giving Casey time to recover from her shock. Casey blocked it easily.

“No points,” Tamille said, not taking her eyes from Casey’s. She jerked her head at the women surrounding them. “Clear out, ladies.”

They backed away so quickly it was like they were pushed out by force.

“Oh, goody,” Death said, clapping. “This should be fun.”

“What is this?” Casey said. “I don’t want to—”

Tamille threw a punch at Casey’s mid-section, and Casey blocked it with an upturned forearm. Tamille’s hand was a mere inch from Casey’s chest. Close enough to scare, but not close enough to do any damage. She was pulling her punches, which meant two things: one—she wasn’t trying to hurt Casey, and two—she knew what she was doing. Casey pushed Tamille’s fist away and stepped back, studying her opponent. Taller than Casey. Smiling. Bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was coming at Casey with a full frontal attack, which meant she was trained in a different manner from Casey. An offensive fighting style, as opposed to Casey’s hapkido, which was mainly a defensive art. Probably a form of karate, one of the most popular martial arts for Americans. The art which had people breaking through layers of bricks or boards. Or people’s heads.

Tamille took a step forward, throwing a one-two punch toward Casey’s face, right arm, then left. Casey blocked both hits and circled around, snapping her right foot at Tamille’s stomach. Tamille spun away, then responded immediately, sending a left-handed roundhouse toward the side of Casey’s head.

Casey ducked, then swung her left foot at Tamille’s ankle. Casey’s foot made contact and Tamille tripped, falling to one knee. She rebounded right back to standing. “Your point,” she said.

She came at Casey again, fists up. Casey stood her ground, took her weight on her right leg, and kicked toward Tamille’s right hip. Tamille swiveled away, and Casey used the opportunity to get in a quick second kick, just missing Tamille’s thigh.

Tamille’s face set in more serious lines, and she put her hands up again.

Casey stood back, waiting, hands loose, knees bent.

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