FITNESS WITNESS
CHOCOLATE COZY MYSTERY #6
WENDY MEADOWS
Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Meadows
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Thanks for reading
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About the Author
Also by Wendy Meadows
CHAPTER ONE
O f all the places to which Olivia had delivered chocolates in Chester, this had to be the strangest. The interior of the Chester Fitness Center glimmered with polished workout machines, most of which Olivia couldn’t put a name to if she tried. Apart from the treadmill and the cycles, the machines were a mystery to her, and one she didn’t plan on solving any time soon.
Fluorescent lights glared down at the folks in their exercise gear; men and women in sweatpants and shorts, all in various degrees of pain or triumph.
Olivia shifted her feet and tightened her grip on two large boxes of Strawberry Fluff Truffles. She spotted the reception desk just ahead and heaved a sigh of relief. This was her last delivery of the day – she couldn’t wait to get home and take a bubble bath with a cup of cocoa.
Entering the gym and experiencing the pumping music and grunts from the exercise clan shoved her right out of her comfort zone.
“May I help you?” The tanned receptionist asked.
“Yes, please,” Olivia squeaked, and rushed toward the desk.
“Would you like to take out a membership plan?” The receptionist, the tag on her chest read Vanessa, looked her up and down from head to toe and twirled blond hair around her finger. “We have a seniors special at the moment.”
Thank you for that. Olivia’s self-esteem curled up into a ball. She was barely over forty for Pete’s sake. “No, I’m here to make a delivery.”
“Oh? That’s super weird. We don’t usually accept deliveries here. Unless its gym equipment,” Vanessa said, and continued twisting that section of hair. Gosh, she’d twist it right off if she didn’t stop. “But you don’t look like you deliver gym equipment for a living. Unless, are you – I’m sorry, are you a guy? Because –”
“Vanessa,” a voice whip-cracked through the air above their heads. Apparently, this wasn’t the first social faux pas the receptionist had made.
Another woman, this one lean, toned, and brunette marched up to them. “Sorry about that,” she said, and fixed Olivia with a million dollar smile. “I’m Tina.” She extended a hand.
Olivia shook it, juggling the chocolate boxes out of the way. “Olivia Cloud,” she said, “I’m here to make a delivery.” She checked the address card on top of the box. “It’s for Joe Kristin.”
“Ah, he’s one of my clients,” Tina said, but a frown wrinkled her flawless forehead. She wore tights and a black workout top. It was tight enough to show there wasn’t an inch of fat on her. “May I ask what’s in there?” She nodded to the boxes.
“Chocolates,” Olivia said, “Strawberry Fluff Truffles to be precise. Is Mr. Kristin around today?”
“Chocolates,” Tina whispered, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t believe it.”
Vanessa shrank back, moving toward the other end of her cordoned off reception cubicle, eyes wide. “Don’t panic, Tina. It’s okay.”
“I’m not panicking,” Tina replied through gritted teeth. “I’m not the least bit panicked. No, I’m seething. I’m furious. But I’m not panicked.”
Uh oh. “Is there a problem?”
“Oh, you could say that.” Tina dropped her hand and fixed Olivia with a piercing gaze. “I’m Joe’s personal trainer. He’s on a strict no-carb, no-sugar, no-fat diet and if he eats those chocolates he’ll relapse.”
Olivia didn’t know much about fitness training, but that was a diet that sounded both deathly and unattainable. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, and kept up her professionalism, “but these chocolates are paid for and I must deliver them.”
“Give them to me,” Tina said, “I’ll make sure he gets them.”
Vanessa shook her head frantically behind the trainer’s back.
“I have to give them to Mr. Kristin himself.”
“He’s busy at the moment. Either give them to me or come back later,” Tina replied through gritted teeth. “We’re closed later.”
“I’ll find him at home, then.” She mentally crossed her fingers that Tina wasn’t about to inform her that Joe didn’t go home, but rather camped out at the gym between meals of carrot sticks and pea juice.
Tina opened her mouth with another rebuttal.
“Ah, there you are!” A large man trundled out of one of the doors nearby, marked Dance Hall 1. He clapped his palms and rubbed them together. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“Joe,” Tina growled, “what’s the meaning of this?”
“Of what?” Joe reached them and patted his belly. “I’ve already lost like 10 pounds. I think I deserve a treat. I read up online that if you don’t allow yourself a treat every once in a while, you’re setting yourself up for disaster. Wouldn’t want to go on a binge, would we?”
“I wouldn’t class two boxes of chocolates as a small treat,” Tina replied.
“They’re not all for me.” He focused on Olivia, kind eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Hi, I’m Fat Joe Kristin.”
Olivia’s jaw dropped. She clicked her teeth together again. “Olivia Cloud. These are for you, if you’ll just sign the card.”
Tina raised a finger. “Don’t you take those chocolates, Joe.”
“Fat Joe,” he said, then focused on Olivia again. “I use the Fat part as motivation to lose weight. It’s working so far.” He picked up the pen and signed the card, then accepted the boxes.
Olivia let out a tiny sigh of relief. Another delivery made successfully, unpleasantness aside.
“You will not eat those chocolates,” Tina said, and reached for them. “Give them to me.”
“No.” Fat Joe darted back, holding the boxes aloft. “They’re mine and I’m going to enjoy them. In fact, I think I’ll go home early today.”
“No, you won’t. You’ve got a yogalates class in ten minutes and you can’t be late.”
Olivia backed away slowly, as if witnessing a clash of giants.
“I’m not going to yogalates. I’ve spent months in this gym and I deserve a break,” Fat Joe yelled, the warm smile slipping for the first time since he’d appeared. “You’re horrible. You’re working me like I’m a servant.”
“You’re a servant to your body, Joseph. You’re overweight and you’re –”
“I pay your salary!”
Th
e argument continued.
Vanessa scooted out of her seat and around to Olivia, wincing at every insult. She drew Olivia aside. “Listen, I’m so sorry about this,” she whispered, “and about asking if you were a man. Oh gosh, look, the afternoon is almost done and everyone will leave soon. Please, let me buy you a drink in the juice bar to make up for the commotion. The owner of this place will be furious once he finds out.”
“I –” Olivia blinked at Fat Joe and Tina, both face to face and red as beets, yelling, spittle flying.
“It’s the least I can do to make up for the discomfort,” Vanessa whispered, and clamped her hand onto Olivia’s arm. She dragged her away from the fight, past the reception area and the staring gym bunnies, and toward the distant juice bar on the second level. “Don’t worry, they serve fruit smoothies too. Unless you’d like to try the spinach one.”
“No, thank you.”
The yells followed them all the way up the stairs.
CHAPTER TWO
O livia had spent the last fifteen minutes excusing herself from Vanessa’s presence. The woman had refused to let her go until she’d had two berry smoothies and one of their gluten-free, no-wheat, no-sugar carob chip cookies. The sun had already set and the fitness center would soon close for the evening.
Nothing in Chester stayed open later than 7 pm as an unspoken rule, unless it was a family restaurant like the pizza and pasta place down the street from the Block-A-Choc Shoppe, or the convenience store.
Olivia hustled down the stairs and between the now empty workout machines, stomach grumbling from the shock to her system. She surely wasn’t accustomed to antioxidant packed smoothies.
No doubt her evening would include extra time spent in the bathroom, apart from the soothing bubble bath. “Trust this to happen to me,” she muttered. If she’d sent Alvira or Alphonsine, they’d have delivered the chocolates without issue and excused themselves from the awkward situation.
And Albie? Forget about it. She’d likely have lectured both Tina and Joe mid-argument and had them bashful about their behavior within minutes.
A loud crash rang out to the left and Olivia jumped. “What on earth?”
Heavy footfalls. A door slammed.
“Hello?” The noise had come from Dance Hall 2, the doors of which were already shut and directly across from what looked like an ancient torture device but was most likely a machine for flexing glutes or pecs or other muscle buzz words.
Nothing but silence now.
Olivia’s pulse ticked up a notch. Perhaps it was paranoid of her, but every time she heard a loud noise she immediately equated it with disaster. Then again, she had spent the past few months investigating murders – strictly off the record, of course.
“Vanessa?” Olivia called out, but the receptionist didn’t miraculously appear from upstairs.
Olivia crept forward and took several deep breaths to calm herself. This was ridiculous – she’d heard a noise and footsteps. “Running, someone running,” she muttered. That didn’t necessarily equate to anything ominous. “Keep telling yourself that.”
She pressed her palm flat against the door, then entered. The studio was dark, but a shape lay in the center of the room. Two shapes. One that gave Olivia chills, and the other was nondescript.
She fumbled along the wall, found the switch and flipped it.
The fluorescents clicked, then flooded the space with light, showing up the mirrors along the walls, all of which reflected the polished sheen of the wooden floor, and the corpse that lay in the middle of it, next to a massive weight.
A pool of blood, brunette hair, and a sightless gaze.
Olivia gasped. “Tina!” She ripped her cell phone from her pocket, just as the door at the other end of the room slapped open.
Fat Joe darted in. “What’s happening? I heard a noise.” He held his boxes of chocolates, and had a gym bag slung over one shoulder. “Tina? No!”
“Don’t move,” Olivia said, and held out a hand. “I’m calling an ambulance and the police.”
“But she might still be alive. We have to help her. Who would do something like this? I can’t believe it.” Fat Joe was pale from head to toe and around the jowls too. His knuckles were white, fingers squishing the chocolate boxes now. “Tina,” he said, and tears swam in his eyes.
“Don’t move,” Olivia repeated. “If we touch her it could make her situation worse, if she’s still alive.” She’d already switched into investigative mode, which washed over her whenever she got a shock of this magnitude.
Tina is dead, and she’d heard it happen. The woman hadn’t cried out. Had the lights been on before it happened? Shoot, had Olivia touched the switch and consequently destroyed physical evidence?
Olivia dialed 911, then pressed the phone to her ear and spoke with the dispatcher. She gave the address and situation, studying the scene, nausea roiling in her belly. This time it had nothing to do with the berry smoothies and barely edible cookie.
She hung up after the dispatcher had assured her that the ambulance and police were on the way, then slipped her cell phone back in her pocket.
Fat Joe had dropped the chocolate boxes and gripped two handfuls of his thick, dark hair. “Oh gosh, I can’t believe I fought with her about chocolates. Poor Tina. Why?”
Olivia shook her head. She didn’t have an answer for him, but she didn’t doubt that whatever had happened, someone would answer for this. Keane would flip out at another homicide in Chester.
“She might not be dead,” Olivia whispered, more to herself than Fat Joe.
“But there’s too much blood,” Joe replied, and gulped. “Too much.”
And he wasn’t wrong there. Whoever had done this had to have been strong and big. Olivia’s gaze wandered to Fat Joe and his apparently distraught expression. A kernel of suspicion exploded inside her.
Perhaps the police wouldn’t have to look too far to find the culprit.
CHAPTER THREE
“How well did you know Tina Hobb?” The detective, a young man with too many grays in his hair for his age, poised his pen above the notepad.
Olivia adjusted herself in the chair upstairs in the Juice It Bar and glanced past him at Detective Keane and Fat Joe in the gym proper. Keane had swept in and taken charge shortly after the medics had arrived and pronounced Tina dead on the scene.
The pair sat at a table that had been moved in between the workout machines.
“Miss Cloud?” Detective Willis pressed the nib of his pen onto the page. “Ma’am? Are you all right? Do you need a moment to gather your thoughts? I know this must’ve been a shock to you.”
“A shock,” she said. Yes, it’d been a terrible shock, but she was equally surprised by Keane’s total avoidance of her. Under usual circumstances, Keane would’ve jumped down her throat for daring to be anywhere near the scene of a murder.
“Yes,” Detective Willis replied, “would you like to take a minute?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I’m ready to talk.”
Keane didn’t look up from his conversation with Fat Joe, who was still white around the gills and kept shaking his head, vigorously.
“How well did you know Miss Hobb?”
“Not well at all,” Olivia replied. “I met her today. I came to deliver a few boxes of chocolates to one of her clients, Joe Kristin.”
Willis took notes. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, all right. Kristin. Got it. As I understand it, there was an argument between Miss Hobb and Mr. Kristin?”
“Yes,” Olivia said, “they fought over chocolates.”
“They fought over chocolates?” Willis’s brow wrinkled as if he couldn’t comprehend why anyone would argue over something as ridiculous as that.
“That’s correct. Tina was Fat Joe’s trainer.”
The detective’s eyebrows hopped up at Joe’s name.
“It’s the title he prefers,” Olivia said, but blushed regardless. Heavens, surely he wouldn’t think she was mean or a bully for saying that. Goodness, she’d provided Joe
with the chocolates, hadn’t she?
“Right,” Willis said, and made some more notes. His ballpoint scraped across the pad and Olivia took the opportunity to sneak a peek at Keane and his suspect.
Fat Joe’s face was covered in sweat now, and he paused between head shakes and single word answers to wipe a handkerchief across his cheeks and forehead. Joe had taken this hard. And he’d been there minutes after the noise.
But not too fast, no, there would’ve been more than enough time for Mr. Kristin to jog to the bathroom and clean himself up before making a U-turn and heading toward the scene of the crime.
Would he do that, though? Why return if he’d committed the murder?
“Ma’am?”
And if so, he’d implicated himself already with the earlier argument. Granted, Olivia had no idea how that particular interlude had ended. They might’ve hugged and made friends again.
“Miss Cloud!”
“Sorry,” she said, “you know what, perhaps it’s better if I have a brief break. I’m not concentrating properly. This has been really distressing.” Less than an hour after the murder of a woman and already she was determined to investigate.
It wasn’t that Tina had been a friend, it was the principle of the matter. Murder in Chester didn’t sit well with Olivia, especially now that she was more a part of this town than she’d been before.
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