The unmistakable smell of sweat and gym mats was back as they entered the basement that was McPhearson's dojo shortly after 6pm.
Unlike before, their arrival was greeted with raised eyebrows and the occasional frown, as if they'd overstayed their welcome with the previous visit.
Waiting for Mike to pick a side in the small room before fanning out in the opposite direction, Kammers remaining close to the door, Steve casually let his eyes drift over all of their suspects, looking for the usual signs of distress and nervousness.
Maria was busy bear-hugging a 19-year old Emily Smithfield, her strong arms seemingly pressing the air right out of the dainty young woman as they struggled on.
Barbara, Wanda and Allison had turned into a human snowball as they rolled across the mats, their arms and legs mixed together enough that Steve couldn't tell who they belonged to beneath the heavy breathing and occasional grunting.
Betsy was busy choking Tiffany from behind, both ladies glancing up when they noticed him watching the intriguing fight, then smiling as if to beckon him to join in.
With a cheeky grin, Steve shook his head in polite denial, then moved his attention over to Mike, trying to gauge where his partner's mind was at this point.
The Lieutenant had his arms behind his back, shoulders straight, chest pushed out, as he quietly stood there, as if to resemble a monument, a statue observing all the comings and goings. His lips were pursed to a thin line, intelligent blue eyes scanning the room ahead back and forth, never staying on the same person long enough for them to notice.
His expression exuded authority, without ever having to demand it, the sides of his overcoat pulled back enough to expose the .38 on his right hip as if to send a silent warning to all those dumb enough to defy his orders.
Several minutes into their quiet observation period, a visibly nervous Horus McPhearson clapped his hands together, the motion meant to stop all the ladies in their tracks and line up. Sweat was running off the sides of his face, and it hadn't come from the workout, Steve knew that much.
If his previous conversation with the Martial Arts instructor had been any indication, McPhearson was well aware that he was still under their radar, if not for murder, at least for conspiracy to commit a crime if they'd be able to gather enough evidence that he helped hide their killer's tracks.
Thus, Steve had used every opportunity to point out how beneficial it would be for him to help them find the real killer and possibly get his head out of the sling a wee bit more.
The young Inspector followed his partner's intent eye contact with McPhearson for several moments, conveying their expectations in no uncertain terms, then switching his focus back to the ladies watching them.
"Well…I guess, I forgot to mention that we have special guests with us again…tonight…"
Stumbling through the awkward explanation with a quivering voice, the Martial Arts instructor gave up his position near the back wall of the basement, and slowly inched closer to the three police officers, as if to seek protection.
Naturally, each of the intuitive ladies ahead seemed to sense a change in pace, their expressions growing more skeptical by the second, and Steve was grateful when Mike decided to take over.
"Well, considering the circumstances we felt that it was the least we could do. After investigating the murder of Leanne Harris for as many days as we have, it felt like…well…like she became a part of our lives too. Especially after only so few people showed up for her funeral."
There was Strike One.
Steve glanced over at the crowd. Despite a few sunken heads and expression of regret and grief, he couldn't see it quite yet.
"Yeah, so…why don't we tell everybody about…things then…", McPhearson continued, his acting talents lacking in more than one department as he nervously fidgeted with the collar of his uniform, then adjusting his black belt, "Ladies, the…ehm…the Lieutenant and his…associates gave me a good idea on how to honor Leanne's legacy and the ehm…the impact she's had on my life, in particular. Because, as you may or may not know, Leanne and I shared a lot more than just time in this dojo."
Strike Two.
Drawing in a deep breath, Steve resumed his observation, trying to put himself in their killer's shoes, just like Mike had taught him. In doing so, emotions such as anger and resentment would be conceivable, possibly hidden beneath clenched fists, indifferent shrugs or forced breaths.
His quick study found both Barbara and Tiffany rolling their eyes, as if the dragged out situation was beginning to wear on their nerves.
Emily had her hands crossed over her chest, seemingly insecure.
Maria, Allison, Wanda and Betsy stared at McPhearson curiously, their expression guarded, except for Maria, whose dark complexion was taking on a shade of red that intrigued Steve.
"What Mister…excuse me, Master McPhearson is trying to say is that during one of our conversations about this case, we talked about his relationship to Leanne Harris, and the mutual learning that took place during those times.", Mike cut in again, clearly growing weary of the stalling going on, "It's very clear on our end that he had a lot of respect for our victim and wanted nothing but the best for her. As such, we were very excited to hear about his plans."
As he fell quiet to leave the actual announcement to a stammering McPhearson, Mike turned his head casually to the side, enough to look at each of the women without meeting his partner's glance.
Not that it mattered.
After years of working together, both detectives were keenly aware of each other's presence, any concerns or observations never staying unnoticed for long, even when eye contact wasn't possible.
An intriguing combination of body language, the tone and cadence of their voice, even the way they were breathing all added to the complex line of communication that had been crafted to near-perfection between the unlikely partners.
"So…without much ado, I wanted to let you all know that I am planning on renaming this dojo into the Leanne Harris Self Defense Academy in honor of my wonderful friend's legacy, and the love she left behind. Love I can feel in every corner of this basement."
Steve didn't get to count out Strike Three when a furious Maria Gonzales stormed toward the detectives, her eyes wide in terror, her pace as fast as that of a predator attacking its prey.
Part of him reached across his chest in an effort to pull his gun, the other, more reasonable part knew that there wasn't enough time left.