"Sensei," Donna said, "these people are from the NYPD."
Angell pulled out her badge, and Stella did likewise. "I'm Detective Angell, this is Detective Bonasera. We're here to talk to you about Jack Morgenstern."
"I'm Allen Portman-this is my dojo. How can I help you?"
Stella said, "We just need to verify that Mr. Morgenstern was part of the fighting class last night and that he was at one point kicked in the ribs."
"May I ask what this is regarding?"
Quickly, Angell said, "An ongoing investigation that we can't talk about in detail."
"Jack is one of my better students. If he's under investigation-"
"We really can't talk about it," Stella said mildly.
Angell added, "I'm sorry, but we have to ask these questions."
Portman folded his arms over his well-muscled chest. "All right. During one of the later rounds in the class, Jack fought with Senpai John."
"How many rounds do you usually go?" Angell asked.
"Fifteen-fourteen two-minute rounds, then one that's three minutes. This would've been either round thirteen or fourteen-we were still doing kick and punch both. The last round is always just punches. Jack missed with a mawashi giri-that's a roundhouse kick-and that left him open for a yoko giri, a side kick. He caught Jack right in the rib cage. After the round, I told him he could rest, but he insisted on continuing." Portman smiled slightly. "Jack can be stubborn that way."
Somehow, Stella managed to keep from making a snide comment. Instead, she asked, "You always wear footgear during fighting classes?"
"Of course."
"Everyone wear the same kind?"
"Generally. We sell fighting gear, and most of the students purchase from us."
"Is Senpai John one of the 'most' in question?"
Portman nodded. "He wears the standard footgear, yes."
Stella nodded back. "We're going to need one set of footgear for comparison purposes, Mr. Portman."
"Of course." Portman didn't sound happy about it, but he was obviously still willing to cooperate. Then again, Stella couldn't imagine that having one of his students under suspicion for a crime was anything that sat well with him. "Donna, could you please give the detectives a set of footgear? The large size, please."
"Osu, Sensei." Donna, who had been working on the computer at the reception desk, hit a few more keys, then got up and pulled down some footgear from the shelves behind her.
"Detectives," Portman said, "I want you to know that I've known Jack for three years now. He's a good man and a good student. I'm aware of the history he has with your department, and I'd ask you to please not hold that against him. He can be abrasive, it's true, but I don't believe that he has it in his heart to commit a murder."
Stella took the footgear from Donna. "Thanks." Then she turned to Portman. "What makes you think this is a murder?"
"Deductive reasoning, Detective Bonasera," Portman said with a small smile. "I know all the detectives that work the day shift in the Fiftieth Precinct, and you two are not among them. I do a good deal of community outreach, and that requires coordination with the local precinct," he added by way of explanation. "Also I know that a young woman was killed in Belluso's Bakery this morning. It isn't that difficult to put two and two together. You think that Jack killed Maria."
While Riverdale was a large community, the businesses were all clustered in a small area. Stella therefore couldn't bring herself to muster up surprise that one business owner would be aware of what happened in one around the corner. New Yorkers minded their own business, but murder was bad for business.
Angell had a few more questions about the dojo-Stella soon learned that she had guessed right, eighty percent of Riverdale Pinan Karate's enrollment was children between the ages of four and eighteen-and then they prepared to go. Stella and Angell both left business cards with Donna.
"If there's anything else I can do to help, Detectives," Portman said, "please don't hesitate to call. Our number's on the brochure."
Angell and Stella both expressed their gratitude, then left the dojo.
They stopped at the crime lab's SUV to put the footgear in the trunk, then proceeded on to Morgenstern's house.
O'Malley was standing in the foyer holding up a large blue plastic evidence bag filled to bursting with clothes. "This is what our guy wore last night, we think."
"You think, Deej?" Angell asked with an undertone of annoyance that was creeping its way into being an overtone.
"They were still in the dryer, along with a karate uniform. I figure he put 'em in the dryer last night 'fore he went to bed and left 'em there." He shrugged. "I do it all the time."
Stella looked at Angell. "What is it with men that they can't fold laundry until they absolutely have to?"
"Hey, don't turn this into a men-women thing, Detective-my wife doesn't even remember to do the damn laundry half the time, all right? Anyhow, you want this stuff or not?"
"Want." Stella held out her hand. "What about the karate uniform?"
"Bagged that, too. Bats has it."
"Any sign of the necklace?" Stella asked.
Shaking his head, O'Malley said, "Nada."
"Where's the dryer?"
O'Malley led her back through a hallway and kitchen to a small alcove off the kitchen. Angell went upstairs to see how things were going in the bedroom.
Reaching into her jacket pocket, Stella pulled out her penlight. She had once joked with Mac that they all wielded their penlights like weapons, and Danny had said that if Mac lost his penlight, he'd get the shakes from the withdrawal.
Still, they were useful, especially when you were searching the inside of a dryer for an errant purple-painted fingernail.
Unfortunately, while she found plenty of dust and lint, she found no fingernails. Nothing in the washer, either. It might have still been on the clothes-she'd check that once she got them back to the lab-but it was more likely that it was knocked off in the wash.
"Hey, Stell!" That was Angell calling from upstairs.
Stella leaned her head outside the washroom. "Yeah, Jen?"
"You should come up here."
Pocketing the penlight, she went up the stairs, her shoe heels clunking on the bare wood. She was surprised that he hadn't put a runner down to mute the noise.
Turning left at the landing, she saw that one of the house's three bedrooms had been converted into an office. At a large wooden desk sat a Dell desktop computer, a mouse pad with the New York Yankees logo on it, and a printer.
A Hewlett-Packard laser jet, to be precise. Two of the five-oh's uniforms were disconnecting it.
Angell walked over to the desk and opened a drawer. "And looky here."
Following her, Stella peered into the drawer, which included all manner of detritus-envelopes with bills; some booklets; a passport; a few rulers; various office supplies, such as paper clips, binder clips, and staples; and, finally, a ream of paper from Georgia-Pacific.
Stella tilted her head. "Well, it doesn't actually prove anything, but it also means that we can't eliminate him, either."
"Works for me," Angell said.
Sighing, Stella went back downstairs. The evidence all supported the notion that Morgenstern killed Maria, but did nothing to prove it.
At least not yet.
Still, Stella hated this part of it. While it was true that evidence didn't lie, it didn't always tell the truth.
Sometimes it just sat and taunted you, and didn't actually tell you anything.
"Jen," she called back upstairs, "I'm gonna head back-get to work on some of this."
Angell poked her head over the banister. "Will do. I'll send over everything once it's collected."
Bracey appeared out of nowhere and said, "I expect an itemized receipt, Detective."
Putting her hand to her chest and trying to get her breathing under control, Stella said, "You scared me."