Fatal Pose

by Barna William Donovan

  “What’s that?” Gunnar asked and thought, Sure there wasn’t.

  “No offense,” Laura said with a beaming, friendly smile now. “For those comments on proving masculinity.”

  “Oh, that? What offense? Don’t worry about it.”

  “You need some humor to keep these students’ attention.”

  “I believe you.”

  “That’s great, Mr.…” Laura paused conspicuously.

  “Marino,” Gunnar said at length. “Gunnar Marino.”

  “Well, now we know each other’s names. And you were looking for me?”

  “Were you on your way out?”

  “Actually, yes,” Laura said and took the opportunity to start walking toward the gallery’s main exit.

  Gunnar followed.

  “So what can I do for you?” Laura asked.

  Gunnar pulled one of his business cards from his jacket pocket. “This is my card, Ms. Preston. There is something I’m working on, and I was hoping you might be able to help me with it.”

  Laura looked at the card and slowed her stride. “Private investigator.”

  “Actually, yes. There’s a project I’m on, and I do think it might have a connection to the WBBF. Or, really, I came across a couple of questions in the course of an investigation I think a high-ranking WBBF official could answer.”

  “An investigation. What kind of an investigation?”

  “It’s a project reconstructing the last couple of weeks or so in Brad Holt’s life.”

  Laura’s eyebrows shot up. “Brad Holt?”

  “Yes. I’m interested in what he was doing, what he was involved in, business matters, that sort of thing.”

  Laura stopped and looked Gunnar over. The information, the fact that she was being quizzed by a private investigator, must have been a big surprise, yet she did not look in any way troubled by this. Her statuesque form, the steely, solid strength in her bearing, the remnants of her own bodybuilding past made her look self-assured, not nervous or defensive in any way.

  That slight, cool hint of a smile shaded one corner of her pretty little lips. “Someone taking issue with the terms of his will?”

  Marino decided to reply with an embarrassed smile. “The thing is, I’m not really allowed to discuss the details of who hired me, but some people who were close to him are not really happy with the way the police washed their hands of Brad’s death. My clients just want a closer look at what happened to Brad before the Sun State Classic.”

  “Do you mind if we keep walking? I really do need to get back to a lot of things in my office.”

  “No problem.”

  Gunnar followed Laura out of the gallery, and they headed toward the nearest parking lot, only a short walk away and on the corner of West 37th Place and Watt Way.

  “Well,” Laura said, “whoever it is that’s concerned about what happened to Brad, we completely sympathize with their loss. But I do have to comment on something you said, though.”

  “Yes?”

  “Not satisfied with the way the police cleared the case? Is that a suggestion that Brad died under suspicious circumstances?”

  “Well…there are just a couple of questions about how the whole matter was written off as a completely natural thing. With Brad just falling over and dying like that.”

  Now Laura’s eyes seemed to cloud over with some agitation. “I saw most of what led up to his death, Mr. Marino. The truth is that this is a tremendous blow to the WBBF. What Brad was involved in before his death—as far as I know—is a limited-time comeback to WBBF bodybuilding. It was good for the organization. Despite what Brad has mainly been up to the last several years, those video things he’s been producing, he used to be a very popular competitor in his prime. There was a lot of drama, a lot of excitement in his return to competition. Could someone his age take on the younger athletes? You know, that sort of pre-contest buildup.”

  “Right.”

  “It made good copy. It sold a lot of WBBF magazines. If he would have won the Sun State, we could have sold a lot more. Between you and me, if he would have won this contest, he would have announced that he had a change of heart and he wanted to compete one last time. And really one last time.”

  “Let me guess; he wanted a shot at the Mr. Empire.”

  Laura nodded with a knowing smile. “You got it. Unfortunately, all that’s gone now. Instead, we need to be able to dodge more bad press coming at this sport. It’s bad enough dealing with all the steroid hysteria. It will probably lead to a complete revamping of our judging standards.”

  “You mean the dieting, right?”

  “Yes, the dieting and the striated look. And that is what killed Brad, believe me. Like I said, I was backstage when he passed out from dehydration—”

  “I know. So was I. I happened to be at the Sun State.”

  “You don’t say.” Laura’s vigorous strides slowed again. “So if you were there and you saw the shape he was in, do you have any opinions about what killed him? As an investigator, a trained professional, did you catch anything we might have missed?”

  Try as she might have, Gunnar concluded, Laura was incapable of disguising the mockery lurking behind her words.

  “Well, from what I saw,” Gunnar said, “he looked awful.”

  Laura’s pace quickened again, her impatient strides longer.

  “Although something occurred to me,” Gunnar said. “Considering how weak and dehydrated he was.”

  “What’s that?” Laura asked without looking at him.

  “How much would it have taken to push Holt over the edge in that state?”

  “Push him over the edge?” Laura asked and studied Gunnar. “So you do mean foul play, don’t you? How much would it have taken someone to…what? How do you think someone would have tried to kill him?”

  By now, they had reached the parking lot, and Laura had her car keys in her hand. She pressed the remote lock/alarm button, and the lights on a Jaguar some thirty feet away flashed on and off.

  “Well, it wouldn’t have taken much to do it, do you agree?”

  Laura stopped and seemed to be looking for something far off in the distance. She was gathering her thoughts, Gunnar surmised.

  “No, the fact is it wouldn’t have,” Laura said at length. “Come to think of it, it probably would have been easy. What do you think, Mr. Marino? Say…a poison of some sort?”

  “Most likely.”

  “But the police don’t think so.”

  “Did you know they didn’t do a full autopsy?”

  “Interesting. But let me ask you something.”

  “Yes?”

  “He could just as well have died of dehydration.”

  “Oh, sure—”

  “And that’s why you want to know what he was up to just before the Sun State, right?”

  Gunnar had to nod with a smile. This woman was indeed sharp and fast. She definitely was justified in allowing that haughty attitude of hers to manifest. Sure, she made an effort to keep it under control as they talked, but Laura Preston knew how smart she was, how good she was at what she did, a position in life attained by her wits and drive and intelligence, and she knew she deserved all that she had.

  “So, Mr. Marino, someone suspects that Brad Holt might have been murdered, right? But why do they suspect that? Or can you talk about it?”

  “Before I decide what I believe or even suspect anything myself, I just want to keep everything simple. I just want to know what Holt was doing before his death.”

  Laura nodded and waited a beat before saying, “Well, at least you know what he was doing in his dealings with the WBBF.”

  “It sounds pretty simple. Magazine articles and a possible second contest if he won.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Laura said firmly. “Oh, and let me add something else.”
r />   “All right.”

  “If Holt was murdered, would it have been done at the contest? If he was poisoned, the killer would have had to do it right then and there, isn’t that right?”

  “Well…perhaps.”

  “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about poisons besides what I’ve seen on some TV crime shows, but doesn’t it make sense that the killing blow, if you will, or the killing dose, was delivered at the Sun State?”

  “That’s a good point.”

  “But where at the Sun State? If you were there, you know how crowded and hectic everything is before the contest. Holt was never alone. You know, somewhere where he could have been poisoned. Actually, come to think of it, I really don’t think a bodybuilding contest would be a place a killer would—or could—strike at all.”

  Laura’s argument was almost perfect, Gunnar decided, so he simply said, “Yeah, that’s definitely something I’ll have to think about.”

  Laura stepped closer to Gunnar. “Oh, and just one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Could I ask a favor of you?”

  “What’s that?”

  She gave Gunnar’s business card a wave. “Would you mind if I could, on occasion, give you a call and see how the investigation is coming along? If we can think of anything at the WBBF that seems odd or out of place concerning Holt, we’ll let you know immediately. But you do appreciate the fact that this entire affair has put our organization in a very bad position again.”

  “Yeah, I can see that, certainly. And yes, I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me anything else you can think of down the line. By the way, would you mind letting me know where I could reach you, too, if I have any more questions?”

  “We’ll keep in touch,” Laura said and smiled graciously as she pulled one of her own business cards from her purse.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot! Before you go, there was something I wanted to ask you about.”

  “What’s that?” Laura asked but glanced at her watch.

  “Brad Holt ran a film production company. Did you have any plans to produce a film with him?”

  Laura gave a sudden chuckle and showed Gunnar a confused smile. A melodramatic sort of confused smile. She said, “Holt produced Girls Caught in the Buff home videos.” Her smile and tone suggested Gunnar’s question was stunningly obtuse.

  “Yes, I know,” he replied and chuckled himself. “But were there plans of any sort to do a video like that with the WBBF? Say WBBF Girls Caught in the Buff, or anything like that?”

  Laura continued smiling but stared straight into Gunnar’s eyes. “Absolutely not. Not on my watch. The WBBF doesn’t pass any judgment on any of its athletes’ private lives—that’s not what we’re all about—but I would absolutely, most definitely, not let my company in any way go into a partnership with any kind of soft core smut-peddling like that. I’ve worked too hard to establish something positive with the image of women in sports, in the media, to betray it with the kind of sleaze like Girls Caught in the Buff.”

  “I think I definitely know where you’re coming from, but I had to ask this. There was this girl Holt was involved with—”

  “Who told you Holt promised her a role in a WBBF girlie video?” Laura asked with an easy laugh.

  “Yeah. Actually, that’s exactly what happened.”

  “But it doesn’t really surprise you, does it?” Laura asked, this time incapable of masking her condescension.

  “Well,” Gunnar said, and shrugged, “knowing the kind of videos Holt produced—”

  “Knowing the way he ran his business, I think it’s pretty safe to assume he told some girl what she wanted to hear in order to get her in bed. Maybe some undistinguished wannabe fitness competitor that turned him on. It does sound plausible, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, sure, it does sound plausible.”

  “Because I can tell you for a fact that the WBBF never had any plans to be in any way ever involved with Holt’s Girls in the Buff videos.”

  On that note, Laura backed away from Gunnar and reached for the Jaguar’s door.

  “Thanks for your time, though,” he said as Laura was about to get into her car.

  “No problem,” Laura replied. “But I’ll definitely call you if I can think of anything else that might help your case.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “So I was wrong about one thing,” Laura Preston said to herself as she scrolled through the information on Gunnar Marino on her computer screen.

  Once behind her desk in her Century City office, Laura had taken the time to make a few quick phone calls and send a couple of quick emails and reshuffle most of her afternoon schedule on account of Gunnar Marino. The investigator’s appearance at the USC gallery intrigued her. She needed to know who he was. She ran the most basic search engine check on Marino and soon decided she had little to worry about.

  But her on-the-spot estimation of him was not quite right. Marino had, in fact, competed as a bodybuilder. He had done some small Southern California amateur contests years ago.

  Nevertheless, Laura still wasn’t expecting to lose any sleep over the private eye’s appearance. From what just turned up on the computer, Gunnar Marino appeared to be strictly a bush-league operator.

  Marino, most likely, ran a small, if not lone operation out of a Venice office. His webpage gave a sketchy bio of him but no information on any other full-time investigators. The information on the firm’s services did make passing mention of other investigators being in Marino’s employ, but little in the way of biographical data. He must hire part-time legwork, Laura guessed. There was a link, however, to the webpage of a Kelly Vaughn’s law firm. She must have used Marino’s services.

  The most pertinent data on Marino, though, turned up by way of the website’s passing mention of his background as a competitive bodybuilder. Wonder if he rents himself out as muscle? Laura thought. Among the services on his website, aside from divorce work, background checks, workers compensation cases, and “reduction of inventory shrinkage,”—apparently, if you thought your employees were stealing from you, all you had to do was call Gunnar Marino, private eye—included personal and special event security.

  Running a quick check through WBBF and local newspaper databases, Laura found that they had actually run a very short story on him in a Body and Power issue years ago. L.A. Life magazine had also profiled him once.

  Unlike most private eyes, Laura found out, Marino was not an ex-cop. He did do time in Naval Investigations, however. From what she could tell, Marino was still a Marine Corps reservist and a member of their Criminal Investigative Division.

  So we get around.

  It seemed like Gunnar Marino always hovered around the peripheries of various professions. According to the old Body and Power article, he was originally from Las Vegas and had moved to L.A. to attend California Pacific University and start bodybuilding. L.A. Life further elaborated that Marino had started out studying criminal justice, enlisted in the marines to pay his way through college, and at one point switched to studying journalism.

  Still doesn’t tell me one thing.

  Marino’s foray into private investigation began when hired by one Rick Wright to help out on some worker’s compensation fraud cases. By the time he finished Southern Pacific, Marino was a fully licensed private investigator and still an amateur bodybuilder. The bodybuilding contests were put on hold permanently after a series of back injuries aggravated a pre-existing back condition from a Marine Corps accident. Private investigation, on the other hand, was a fully burgeoning business. Rick Wright died of a massive heart attack two years later, and Marino was left with the business.

  Laura closed the files on Marino and leaned back in her chair. Nothing turned up in the e-query on the detective to entirely dispel all of her first impression of him. There didn’t seem to be much to worry about since h
e still appeared to be such a typical never-was muscle man in an overgrown adolescent’s job.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Very elaborate,” Gunnar said as he unrolled and studied the large poster. “Looks expensive. A lot of effort must have gone into a professional job like this.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought when I first looked at the thing,” Amy McCambridge said as she hopped onto the edge of his desk.

  After meeting Laura, Gunnar rushed straight to his office to debrief Amy. When he heard that Mitzy Starr not only claimed to have been offered a starring role in a WBBF-connected girlie video but claimed hard evidence, he needed to check out the goods immediately.

  “This thing came straight from the art department of Holt’s movie company,” Amy said as she fished around in her purse. Soon she removed a bright pink smart phone, tapped on its screen to retrieve more information, and said, “Golden Edge Entertainment.”

  Gunnar looked at her.

  “Holt’s production company’s called Golden Edge.”

  The centerpiece of the poster was one hungry-eyed, lusty Mitzy Starr straddling an exercise machine, outfitted in nothing more than a string bikini and beads of glimmering perspiration dotting her glossy, curvaceous body. WBBF FITNESS GIRLS CAUGHT IN THE BUFF, the copy on the poster read.

  “Remarkable,” Gunnar muttered.

  “Yes, and the fact that Holt spent all this time and money to lure some bimbo into bed is quite remarkable, too,” Amy cut in quickly.

  “That’s exactly what I meant,” Gunnar shot back.

  Looking up, he saw Amy winking at him.

  “But Laura Preston says this was never even an option at the WBBF?” she asked.

  “Unequivocally.”

  “I should hope not. Just look at that little skank. Do you think that woman ever spent a day in her life lifting weights?”

  In fact, Gunnar did note that about Mitzy Starr the moment he unrolled the poster. The woman was soft, voluptuous. She looked like she would have been happily at home on the pages of any porn magazine, but nowhere near anything associated with a fitness/muscle-building organization like the WBBF.