Zo? nodded.
Monica played statue while Zo? followed the steps. Karen provided adjustments until Zo? had the move down. Then Karen moved on to the next pairing.
“Let’s try this with some movement,” Zo? said.
Monica came at Zo? slowly, but moving complicated the action. She missed with a side kick, lost her balance, and fell.
“Damn it,” Zo? hissed.
“Don’t sweat it. Let’s try again.”
The second time around, Zo? didn’t get herself positioned correctly before Monica was on top of her.
“C’mon, Zo?. You can do this.”
Zo? nearly told Monica what she could do with her encouragement. Monica didn’t know anything about her.
“Do you want me to show you the move?”
“No,” Zo? barked.
Monica blinked in surprise.
“No. Sorry. I’ve got this.”
“OK,” Monica said. “Let’s try it again. On your call.”
Zo? nodded and Monica came for her. Again, Zo? was too slow with her reaction and clumsy with her delivery, and Monica caught her off balance, sending her crashing to the mat.
“Shit.”
“It’s OK,” Monica said and offered a hand.
Zo? reluctantly took her classmate’s hand. “Let’s go again.”
“Sure.”
They went again and Zo? made the move work, but Monica had definitely backed off to make it easier for her to defend herself.
“One more time, before we review this combination,” Karen said. “So make it count.”
“You heard the lady,” Monica said.
“This time, no soft sell.”
Monica smiled. “Sure thing.”
She charged Zo?. Zo? saw the opening she needed to pull off the initial side kick and missed it. Monica brought down an imaginary knife slash and clipped Zo? across the jaw. It was an accident. Zo? knew it was an accident. But her reaction was immediate and impulse driven. She backhanded Monica. The slap froze Monica to the spot. It was all the opening Zo? needed. She followed the backhand with a palm drive to Monica’s sternum. The impact sent her crashing to the mat with a scream. Zo? drew back a fist, in case Monica retaliated.
“Zo?!” Karen screamed.
Karen’s shout jerked Zo? from her daze. Everyone was staring at her, shock and disgust on their faces. Monica was crying. Two women rushed forward and helped her up.
Zo? opened her mouth to apologize, but the words didn’t come. She was just as shocked at what she’d done as everyone else.
Karen pointed at the door. “Get the hell out, Zo?.”
Zo? nodded. It was the only thing she could do. She stood and turned to see Inspector Ryan Greening standing at the reception desk.
Shit, she thought.
When she passed him to collect her things, he said, “I think we need to talk.”
CHAPTER TEN
Inspector Greening held the door open for Zo?, and they walked out into the night. The sounds of her classmates’ dismay and disgust filtered through the studio’s frosted-glass windows. She crossed the street to her motorcycle to get away from her screwup. Greening followed her.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“I went by the mall to see you, but you had already left. One of your colleagues told me where you were.”
Greening could have easily called ahead or even made an appointment, but he’d dropped by unannounced so that he could catch her in her natural habitat. She didn’t have to ask him if she was a suspect. The fact that he’d witnessed her little display in class had probably done nothing to shake his suspicion. When she screwed up, she really screwed up.
“You want to tell me what just happened in there?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just got carried away. It happens. What do you want?”
“I have some things to tell you about our investigation, but I have some questions too. Do you have some time to talk?”
The question sounded more like a request. “Sure. Where do you want to do this?”
“I want to go over some of the events from last night, so how about we go to that place you were drinking at, Ferdinand’s?”
Zo? groaned inside. The last thing she wanted was to go back to the scene of her crime. She tried to think of an excuse why they couldn’t return there but came up short. She surrendered and said, “Sure. Whatever.”
He insisted on driving, so she left her bike where it was. She felt he was controlling the situation in a passive-aggressive way. That was the cops’ MO—make you feel like you had a choice when you didn’t.
It was another busy night on Russian Hill. The area around Ferdinand’s was packed and it took Greening three blocks to find parking. They walked together. A casual observer might have mistaken them for a couple, if he didn’t look very closely.
Ferdinand’s was as busy as the night before. It was a crush all the way to the door, and the restaurant didn’t have much in the way of tables.
“It’s a war zone in there,” she said. “Sure you want to discuss police stuff with so many people around?”
“I think we’ll be OK.”