Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation (6 page)

“Tomorrow night, seven to
eight-thirty, Master Class Karate Studio on Euclid Avenue.” Frank ripped a page from the
Cottonwood Community News
and held it in front of Giulia until she took it.

“ ‘Learn self-defense from a Master.’ ” She rolled her eyes. “Frank, I thought we—”

“We did not. We left the conversation unfinished.” He folded the rest of the tabloid-sized paper and dropped it in her trash can. “Before lunch you said you took this job seriously. That means, of course, you’ll be at this class tomorrow night.”

He opened his door but stopped in the doorway. “It’s twenty-five dollars. Do you need to expense it?”

That stung. “I’m not destitute.”

“Good.” He closed the door between them.

Giulia propped her elbows on her desk, the spreadsheet as unimportant as yesterday’s weather.

She gave him too much lip earlier. He was the boss. She couldn’t forget that. She needed to—oh, no—sit down, shut up, and obey. A noise came from her throat that actually sounded like a growl.

He wasn’t the Superior General. She wasn’t under vows to him. Only employee-employer agreements. She had to do what he said at work, but he didn’t own her, body and soul, 24/7. That was the difference. She was free in every way that mattered.

She picked up the phone and dialed. A deep male voice answered on the second ring. She still didn’t want to do this, but... “I’d like to register for your self-defense class tomorrow night... Do you prefer cash or debit card?... Sweats and a T-shirt, fine... What bus line are you on?... Thanks.”

_____

Twelve women in sweats including Giulia, seven female and five male instructors wearing those white karate uniforms... what were they called... and thick cloth belts. Nine brown and three black.

Giulia tapped the shoulder of the older woman next to her. “Brown and black belts are for the most experienced students, aren’t they?” she whispered. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

The woman smiled. “Don’t worry. My sister took this class last month. All the instructors are trained to be extra-controlled around us weenies.”

Before Giulia could reply, the school’s owner began his soft-sell pitch. The fees for twice-weekly regular instruction were astronomical and the bus transfer times inconvenient. Giulia pasted politeness on her face and squinted at the Japanese characters painted above the mirrored wall. The translation was too small to see from her back corner. During the skills demonstration, every time the owner and his instructors executed kicks and spins, a disinfectant-laden breeze wafted over her head. The frayed gym-mat corner tickled her bare foot, and she crossed her legs instead.

The demonstration lasted fifteen minutes, and left Giulia in awe of their collective strength. Those loose uniforms hid some impressive muscles.

“Every hold has a weak point.” The owner of the school held up his arms and grasped his own wrist. “Watch my thumb and index finger. Pressure applied to this opening is the key to breaking this hold.” He pushed against his fingers, and his trapped wrist slid out.

He toweled the sweat from his graying crew cut and arranged Giulia and the rest of the class in pairs to practice. Giulia held out her hand to her linebacker-sized partner. He bowed. She dropped her hand and returned the bow.

Great. Not only had she forgotten karate etiquette already, but now a strange man got to touch her. She’d never remember these lessons. Too obsessed about getting over ten years of “your body is Christ’s temple and no human man should ever touch it.”

Thanks, Postulant and Novice Mistresses. And thank you, Frank, for guilting me into this.

“Now you’ll learn to do the unexpected.” The owner beckoned to one of the female black-belt instructors and gripped her forearm. “When an attacker grabs you, what is your instinctive reaction?”

The instructor planted her feet and yanked her arm. Giulia would’ve done the same.

The owner answered his rhetorical question. “To pull away. Assuming the attacker is taller and stronger than you, this gives him an even bigger advantage. Watch.” With little effort, he flexed his bicep and pulled the resisting instructor tight against his chest. “Now you’re in his power.”

He released the instructor, and she backed away one step.

“But if you move into his hold—” This time she stepped forward when he clutched her wrist, bending their arms double between them. “For a few seconds you have the element of surprise. Go for his most vulnerable spots. Crush his instep.” The instructor raised her foot a fraction and stopped it just above the owner’s.

“Put all your weight behind this and you can cause enough pain to loosen his grip and run. This move also works if an attacker grabs you from behind.”

The instructor faced away from him, and he put one arm around her waist and covered her mouth with his hand. Before Giulia counted one—two—the instructor’s heel hovered over the owner’s foot, ready to smash. The owner released her, and she returned to her starting position.

“You might think the obvious response to a frontal attack is to knee him in the groin.”

Several giggles from the class. The owner smiled.

“Every man everywhere expects this.” He grabbed the instructor’s arm. She raised her knee, and he turned away from the attack, locking his arm around her throat at the same time. “Do not put yourself in this situation.” He released her, and they faced each other again. “The most vulnerable spot on the body is the nose. Watch.”

He pulled the instructor in, and she pushed the heel of her hand under his nose and up. He moved his head back with her motion until he stared at the ceiling. “Done correctly, this can break his nose.” He and the instructor bowed to each other, and she returned to her spot next to the woman on Giulia’s right.

Giulia’s partner, the linebacker with a shy smile, took her wrist as she tried not to flinch.

“Evening, ma’am, I’m Larry. Sensei would never say this, but you can sum up everything you learn here as ‘Hurt the bastard and run like hell.’ ”

She smiled. Nice of him to try to alleviate her nerves. She must be radiating stress.

“Aim with the heel of your hand. Keep your arm straight and hit from your shoulder.”

That worked. She clenched her teeth and practiced the correct angles for nose-breaking and foot-smashing over and over.

After fifteen minutes, the owner and the same instructor moved to the center of the mirrored wall again.

“Now that you have mastered the simple defenses, I will show you a skilled counterattack before we move on to basic throws.”

He held the instructor’s wrist. “Remember the nose.” He pulled her toward him, and her other hand whipped out and “chopped” his nose.

Giulia jumped.

“Again, the nose is a delicate structure. Even the weakest of you will be able to cause enough pain and blood to escape a would-be attacker.”

Giulia and Larry both laughed at Giulia’s first attempts.

“Ma’am, try this.” He pushed her fingers together and straight. “This edge of your hand is stronger than you think. Move it short and sharp. Like this.”

He backed away a step and brought his arm to her face. She flung up her hands, and his chop touched her knuckles.

“I’m not going to hurt you, ma’am. Why don’t you take my wrist and watch my movements so you can imitate them.”

Giulia held his left wrist with her right hand. He took a quick step in, and his hand stopped just beside her nose.

“I almost got it,” she said. “Would you do it again?” She grabbed him. He twisted in toward her and his arm came up.

Stars exploded in her head. Blood gushed from her nose. Pain whooshed through her face, and her breath became little gasps.

“Oh my God—ma’am! Are you okay? Somebody get a towel! I’m sorry—I didn’t stop in time.”

“What—I’m bleeding—” Giulia’s ears rang like Easter bells. She inhaled and choked on a mouthful of blood.

Larry shoved a handful of paper towels in her face, and she clutched them to her nose and mouth. She blinked, but everything stayed blurry. Her nose throbbed. She coughed and it throbbed worse.

“Let me help you.” A younger woman’s voice. A hand took hers and led her along the wall—Giulia bumped it twice—and through a door. “Here. Sit down and let me look.”

Giulia squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. The bathroom. The instructor who’d demonstrated the moves for the class stood at a sink and held fresh towels under the tap.

“Let’s check the bleeding.” She tugged at Giulia’s hand. “Still flowing. Press this hard on your nose.”

Giulia gulped another glob of blood. Larry opened the door and hovered.

“Larry, get out of the women’s bathroom.” The instructor pushed him back and closed the door again. “Memorizes katas faster than anyone, but useless at the sight of blood.” She frowned at Giulia. “The towels aren’t quite as red now. Looks like the flash flood’s over.” She switched the damp towels for fresh and dumped the stained ones in the trash.

Giulia’s face throbbed. The bathroom light shot through her eyes and sparked a jackhammer headache in both temples.

The instructor stopped in front of the sink and stared at her hands. “Um... you don’t have AIDS, do you?”

Giulia laughed and coughed and laughed again. “Ow. No.” She couldn’t think of a short answer to explain why the question was funny.

The instructor smiled and shrugged. “Sorry, but these days you have to be careful. Let me clean your face.”

Giulia closed her eyes while cool, damp paper caressed her nose, cheeks, and chin.

“There. Much better. I’ll just stuff a piece of towel into your nose... there. Are you okay to wash your hands?”

“Sure.” Giulia wobbled to her feet and flung an arm out to the sink. “You didn’t see that.”

“Of course not.” The instructor patted Giulia on the back.

The soap frothed red; it took two complete scrubbings to clean her hands and nails. Then she saw the bloody tie-dye on her T-shirt and sweats. “They’re ruined.”

“Maybe not.” The instructor squatted and felt the material. “Lots of cold water and soap as soon as you get home, then club soda.”

“Home.” Giulia blinked several times, and the blurriness finally disappeared. Now she could see her helper’s deep brown eyes and the laugh lines around her mouth. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No trouble at all. I’ve got three kids. Minor catastrophes and mopping up body fluids are old news in my house.”

“Then I thank your kids for their childhood injuries. Wait. That didn’t sound right.”

The instructor laughed. “I know what you meant.”

“Do you have the time?”

The instructor stood and cracked open the door. “8:10.”

“I have to leave. The next bus comes in seventeen minutes.” Giulia touched the bridge of her nose. It kicked back. “This is going to be purple tomorrow.”

“It sure is. Don’t overdo the makeup for the next few days. That’ll just make it worse. I’ll get you some ice for the ride.”

Giulia followed her to the door.
Deep breath. Everyone’ll be staring at you. Suck it up.

The self-defense students were twisting out of the instructors’ choke holds. Giulia hugged the back wall and smiled beneath the towel plug. Larry broke away from his conversation with the school’s owner and intercepted her beneath the exit sign.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. A black belt should know better. I have no excuse.”

Giulia put up her hands. “It’s all right. No real harm done. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“Ms. Falcone.” The owner handed Giulia her purse. “Please accept my apologies. Of course we’ll be refunding the course fee to your account.”

The instructor who’d cleaned Giulia up walked over with an ice-filled plastic bag. “When everyone asks, remember to say, ‘You should see the other guy.’ ”

Giulia groaned. “That hurt worse than my face does.” She held out her free hand to the owner. “Thank you.”

Larry opened the front door for her. “Do you need an escort to your car?”

She shook her head and pain stabbed her sinuses. “Thank you, no. I’m just going to the corner bus stop.” She looked behind her at the clock. “It’s coming in eight minutes. I should get out there.”