Free Gilt Trip (The Boston Uncommons Mystery Series Book 3) by Arlene Kay

mind. “Don’t be afraid. I am not a violent man. I have many failings, but never would I injure anyone.”
    “Small comfort to Phaedra Jones,” I said. “Someone with your skills finished her off. It happens all the time in the movies.”
    He chuckled, a sound of mirth that seemed inappropriate and downright insulting. Villains in my books were awesome evildoers, not smiling hunks with dimpled cheeks.
    “Ah. You are thinking of Dim Mak, the touch of death. It is true that I know the technique, but never would I use it, especially against a woman. It violates every principle of the Shaolin code.” He stretched, treating me to a fine display of muscle magic. “Filmmakers have no such restrictions. They kill with impunity.”
    Dim Mak! The last testament of Phaedra Jones was suddenly clear. As a martial arts groupie, she knew all the kung fu hot buttons, including the one that killed her. Dim Mak. She had the chance to name her killer but chose not to. Surely that absolved Justin Ming.
    The tension in the room dissipated, and my fight or flight instincts went from boil to simmer. Time to quiz the sifu about murder. After all, Horton Exley prized my detective skills. He was counting on me.
    “I’ll brew some tea,” I told Justin. “We have to talk.”
    And so we talked over cups of herbal tea. He answered my questions without hesitation, even the personal, impertinent ones.
    “Was Phaedra Jones blackmailing you?” I asked.
    Justin laughed. “I have no money, Ms. Kane.”
    Our eyes met, acknowledging what each of us knew. The currency of blackmail was frequently power and control over others.
    “Okay. What did she want?” I steeled myself for something sleazy, but the sifu surprised me.
    “Phaedra thought she was in love with me. She wanted an intimacy I couldn’t give.” Justin cleared his throat. “Our time together was pleasant but unremarkable. At least for me.”
    “She knew there were others, I suppose?”
    He nodded. Justin Ming used words sparingly and to great effect. He volunteered nothing.
    “Were you involved in the bullion scheme? I heard all about it.”
    “Bullion? I don’t understand. Our relationship was sensual, Ms. Kane, not business. Frankly, I had few discussions of substance with Phaedra or any of the others during our time together.” He smiled again. “They preferred it that way.”
    His manner morphed from superior to arrogant, and it annoyed me. Good looks and incredible abs were no substitute for humility. There had to be a Shaolin law about that.
    “How did you identify your ‘special’ clients? Some secret code?”
    Justin shook his head. “Martial arts trains one to be observant, and I am skilled in nuance. I identified their needs during class,” he shrugged, “and pursued it later.”
    Had I given off some needy vibe? I had to ask.
    “What about me? I’m engaged, happily so, I might add. And my mother-in-law is totally in love with her husband.”
    He took a slight step back and bowed. “My mistake. Forgive me.”
    I yearned to smack that smirk off the sexy sifu’s face, but good sense prevailed. He posed as the poster boy for customer service, but Avery Moore might see things differently. Justin had violated the Moral Way, the basic underpinning of Shaolin law.
    “The master might have banished you,” I said. “Then what would you do?”
    His expression was one inch short of smug. “I am not without resources, Ms. Kane. Several of my clients have made generous offers.”
    “Really? You mean you’d go to the highest bidder?”
    He bowed his head. “Exactly.”
    Chapter Eight
    WHEN ANIKA PHONED later that evening, I fought a losing battle to remain calm and coherent. Despite taking yogic breaths and visualizing puppies, Justin Ming’s treachery left me outraged.
    She let me rant for a while, then spoke in soothing tones. “Hold on, Eja. I’m on my way.”
    That jolted me back to reality. At that hour, Bolin would insist on accompanying his wife. Before