Weapons of Mass Distraction

by Camilla Chafer

  “Lorena’s death was definitely not natural,” Solomon pointed out.

  “I know. I heard,” Michael said, sounding somewhat distressed.

  “How did you hear?” I asked. “You called me pretty quick.”

  “We have a few officers at the gym. They talk. I overhear.”

  “Can you think of any connection between the three deceased?” Solomon inquired.

  Michael nodded. “Only the gym. That’s the only connection. Here’s my big worry: that someone at the gym targeted those folks and perhaps they’re not done yet. I can’t have a murderer killing off my clients. Maybe someone has it in for the gym.”

  “Most people would feel the same,” agreed Solomon, “but there’s nothing to suggest that Jim and Karen were murdered, or that your gym might be a target.”

  “Yet,” said Michael.

  “Yet,” agreed Solomon.

  “But don’t you think it’s suspicious too?” Michael waited, looking alternately at both of us.

  There was a long pause in which Solomon leaned back in his chair, his hand under his chin as he assessed the situation. “I think it’s something to look at more closely,” he said and Michael gave a relieved sigh before slumping back in his chair.

  “And you?” Michael asked, looking at me. I nodded too. “Then I want to hire you.”

  “It might not be what you think,” Solomon warned, “it could be nothing. Or, it could be natural causes from underlying health conditions. It could be a problem at the gym, or with one of your employees, or even a member. We can’t predict which one of those things it is. Are you sure you want to hire the agency, or would you rather wait for the police to finish their investigations?”

  “I’m worried they might not investigate the deaths of Jim and Karen at all, to concentrate on Lorena since they know she was murdered for sure. Not that she doesn’t deserve all their efforts. I hope they find the bastard that did that to her. I just don’t want someone else dying in my gym while they’re not looking, or if, when they finally look, there’s no evidence. Or if every potential witness’s brain goes funny and no one can remember what they saw or heard.”

  “You think like an investigator,” said Solomon.

  “I think like a man who wants to keep his job while making sure no one else dies,” replied Michael.

  “Can you afford us?” asked Solomon, predictably.

  “Yes, I have access to discretionary funds. If something hinky is going on, the gym’s owners will be glad I used the money to investigate. Whatever happens, you’ll get paid. I promise you that.”

  “Okay, Lexi will run through the paperwork with you. You’ll sign it, pay a retainer, and we’ll get started. We can do all that at the end of the meeting. Right now, I need to know a few things. Are the areas where the two deaths occurred at the gym secure?”

  “No one’s been inside the spin studio ever since the police left. I had it locked up.”

  “Cleaners?”

  “Not yet.”

  “No one touched anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “And the treadmill?”

  “Had it put in storage in the basement. Me and my assistant manager moved it, but we used gloves. The gym is still open.”

  “Good thinking. What about the possessions of the deceased?”

  “The police weren’t interested so we left their lockers be. Jim might have left something in the spin studio and, like I said, that’s still locked up. There was a water bottle and towel on the treadmill Karen used, and they’re both in my office.”

  “You called Lexi because you knew she was a private investigator. Is that common knowledge at the gym?” Solomon inquired, glancing at me quickly. I shook my head.

  “I only knew because Lexi told me a while back,” said Michael, looking toward me for confirmation.

  I nodded. “Lorena knew too, and Lily. I don’t think anyone else knows though. You’ve told me not to discuss it, which is why I don’t. Lily and I have been going there for years so I’m a familiar face, um, occasionally.”

  “Did anyone know that you knew Lorena? Or the other deceased?”

  I shook my head. “I only got to know Lorena recently and we met up outside the gym to run. We haven’t though for the past couple of weeks because of her ankle injury. I didn’t know the other two, but I did see them from time to time. Familiar faces, but not enough to talk to. No one would think I have any particular connection to any of them.”

  “Okay, so it’s probably safe to keep Lexi at the gym so she can monitor the situation. She’ll need to be the eyes and ears for anything suspicious that we should investigate.” Solomon stood and took the few steps over to the door to beckon Flaherty in. The ex-detective appeared at the door. “Flaherty can liaise with the coroner and MPD here.”

  “Yes, boss,” said Flaherty, giving a single nod before shutting the door behind him. A moment later, he was at his desk, on a phone and dialing.

  “Lexi will fill you in,” said Solomon. “Michael, what reason could Lexi have for explaining why she’s at the gym so much?”

  “I have a vacancy for a spin instructor now that Anton’s taking a few weeks off.”

  They both looked at me. “You have got to be kidding?” I spluttered. “Me? A spin instructor? All that cycling and going nowhere?”

  “I know you spin,” said Michael.

  “Under sufferance!”

  “Maybe you could just be an instructor,” said Michael. “A trainee? Then it doesn’t matter that you don’t know much. You won’t even have to teach any classes!”

  I looked at Solomon and nodded; he shrugged, so I turned back to Michael. “I guess so long as I don't have to teach anything since I can't do that. Being on staff would be a good cover to talk to employees and clients.”

  Solomon placed his forearms on the table and nodded his approval. “That’s settled then. Lexi, you start tomorrow. Michael, can you get everything arranged for Lexi to start so her cover is in place?”

  “No problem.”

  “Again, I want to make clear we cannot control the outcome. We might find nothing or we might find out your most trusted employee is a maniacal psychopath.”

  “I kind of hope you do,” said Michael, “find nothing, that is. That would be the perfect outcome for the gym if it were just sheer coincidence.”

  Despite his affirmation, as I looked at each of the men in the room, I knew that none of us thought this would be a clear-cut case, or that it was entirely a coincidence. Each of us smelled murder. The big question: was there a serial killer at my gym? And was another victim in the killer’s sights?

  ~

  “You? A gym instructor? Oh, please!” giggled Lily after I filled her in on my newest case. It was right after I told her about Lorena over my first drink. We were sitting at the end of the bar, away from the burgeoning after-work crowd and the mood was pretty heavy until now.

  “You didn’t laugh this much when I told you I was going to be a PI.” I pouted as I reached for my melon mojito and took a sip. Lily’s bar may have been the newest addition to Montgomery’s social scene, but judging by the early evening buzz, it was already a success. That was due, in no small part, to having hired Ruby Kalouza, currently serving. Besides her many other surprising talents, she was also an amazing cocktail mixer. The mojito was delicious.

  “That’s because you are a natural PI. You are not a natural gym instructor.”

  “Michael said I could be a spin instructor.”

  “Oh stop!” screeched Lily. “You’re making my sides hurt! I have to drag you into Anton’s class.”

  “Anton’s taking a few weeks off. Apparently, having someone die in his class really got to him.”

  “Can’t say it did much for me either. I’m thinking of taking up road cycling.”

  “You don’t even have a bike.”

  “True. Maybe I’ll just get my cardio by treadmill…” She paused and we both thought of Karen Doyle. “Maybe not.”

  “
We could do yoga,” I suggested, “it’s not at all dangerous.”

  “Or pilates,” agreed Lily. “Or aqua aerobics?”

  “I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

  “Good point. So when do you start?”

  “Tomorrow. I don’t even have to teach a class, just wear a tight t-shirt. Hey, did you tell anyone I’m a PI?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’m going undercover. I need to question people to find out who might be a killer.”

  “If they make you wear one of those t-shirts that the female staff wear, no one will be able to think straight when they answer your subtle questions,” said Lily, gesturing at my chest. The girls were currently ensconced in a very nice bra and not a distraction at all. I hadn’t noticed my chest drawing anyone else’s attention lately either, but I supposed that was just a matter of time. “Talk about weapons of mass distraction,” she giggled.

  I pulled a face. “Really? They’re not that big and not everyone looks at them.” I looked down. Yep, they were looking good. Props to me! “Maybe they’re lonely. I wonder who I can ask to keep them company?”

  “Heh!” Lily snorted. “Back up… Seriously? There’s a serial killer in our gym?” Lily gaped at me. Her hand bobbed around on the bar, searching for her drink so I pushed the glass into her hand. She raised it to her mouth, taking a big gulp, never taking her eyes off me.

  “That’s what I have to find out.”

  “I might suspend my membership.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s going to kill you.”

  “Why not? Is the serial killer really picky? Doesn’t he like blondes?” She tugged at a blonde curl, straightening it, and letting it go so it bounced back into a loose ringlet. I recalled the days when I was blonde, which were abruptly cut short when I had to dye my hair for a disguise. Since then, I let it grow out to my natural brunette.

  “Okay, maybe they will kill you next,” I decided in a rare moment of hair jealousy.

  “Maybe I’ll just cancel for now and rejoin when you catch him or her. Dammit, I have a pedicure booked at their spa on Friday. Do you think you could catch the killer before then?”

  “Probably not, sorry.”

  “Can you at least try?” Lily pleaded.

  “I will. I promise. Anyway, as Solomon and everyone else pointed out, it might still just be a really unlucky set of sad coincidences.”

  “Yeah, a knife in the heart sounds pretty unlucky to me too.”

  “Except Lorena,” I conceded.

  “Poor Lorena. I was going to invite her to the wedding.” Lily looked down at her notepad where she listed the invitees to her forthcoming wedding. “Now who can I invite to fill her space?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll find someone. Ask Jord. You might have missed a relative.”

  “I’m not inviting all your relatives.”

  I looked at the list. “Are you sure? It looks like you are. Ohmygod, is that Grandma O’Shaughnessy? You can’t invite her!”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s scary.”

  “She’s your grandmother!”

  “That’s not a get out of jail free card!”

  “I can’t not invite her.”

  “You could lose the invitation. Blame it on her. She’s ancient and probably more than a little forgetful.”

  “Lexi, that’s terrible. Anyway, do you want me to write John Solomon or plus one on your invitation?”

  That had me stumped. Appearing with Solomon as my date to Lily and Jord’s wedding would be about as official as it could get in Montgomery. Everyone would know, and those who didn’t know would know by the next day. “I still don’t know if we’re dating-dating or just dating?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Monogamous dating and calling each other boyfriend-girlfriend, or just casual dating.”

  “You still haven’t asked him!”

  “It never came up before! Then, Lorena died and I got hired to find a killer so I didn’t have any time to mention it today.”

  “You need to ask him. Do not ruin my seating arrangements, Lexi. I mean it,” she added, her eyes narrowing.

  “Bridezilla.”

  “If you call me that again, I’ll make sure you pay for all your future cocktails.”

  “I’ll ask him soon,” I promised as I finished my mojito and Lily ordered us fresh drinks. “If I drink too many of these, I’ll ask him when I’m drunk; then I won’t care if he just says it’s casual. Tomorrow, I have another job anyway, and la-la-la, my life will be over.” I lay my head on the cool bar and Lily stroked my hair.

  “You really should never date the boss. Why couldn’t you stick with sexual harassment?”

  “Sexual harassment doesn’t make French toast,” I muttered. “Or look like sex on a stick. And I love him.” I hiccupped. The alcohol that once seemed so warming, was now hitting me hard.

  “I’m gonna leave your table placement until last,” Lily decided. “Now as to the dresses… I was thinking pink as the final choice, but maybe we should get you black in case the serial killer gets to you first. Then it can double as your funeral gown. Black is very chic for weddings, so that’s a good thing. I feel so frugal now I know you can wear it again.”

  “Screw my life,” I said, lifting my head as the newest drinks appeared in front of us. I plucked a straw from the container, stuck it in the glass and took a healthy slurp.

  “Just don’t screw up my wedding. If you’re a no-show and dead, that will totally steal my limelight. And don’t be late for the fitting either! Promise me, Lexi, hand on heart: you will not let the killer get you.”

  I rose upright, straightened my back and placed my hand over my heart. “I promise to not let a serial killer get me or to ruin your wedding. Your wedding will be perfect.” I didn’t even think to cross my fingers.

  Chapter Five

  I had never been inside the gym after hours when it was closed. There was something eerie about the rows of silent machines, the neatly stacked weights and mats, the smell of cleaning solution still faint in the air. I couldn’t quite equate it with the place where I sweated for years, with similar bodies heaving, sweating, and gasping for breath to a soundtrack of motivational tunes pumped through speakers.

  Michael and I had arranged to meet an hour before the gym opened so I could investigate both the spin studio and the treadmill. I didn’t really relish the idea of combing the areas for anything suspicious in the quiet, but it beat doing it when the gym was crowded with a dozen curious eyes watching me. “It’s five a.m.,” I said, glancing at my watch. “I should still be in bed.”

  “Sorry, it’s the only time we have alone,” Michael said, jingling a ring of keys from one hand. “I have to get the studio open. People are complaining it's shut and the gym is closed too much, even threatening to cancel their memberships. I think that’s a good thing.”

  “It is. It means people want to stay.”

  Michael gave a half-hearted shrug. “What does that say about people’s compassion though? Two of our members died here and they just want to get back in for their workouts.”

  “I couldn’t say.” To me, it said a lot about the gym members’ dedication to good figures, and good health in the face of death, but not so much about being friendly neighbors. I patted Michael’s arm as I hefted my camera bag strap onto my shoulder. “Let’s check out the studio and get it over with.”

  “You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, giving me a quizzical glance.

  “I already wrote up my eyewitness statement for both events, and Detective Maddox took one when he was here too, so I’m good to go. This is not my first death scene,” I told him, trying not to sigh. I didn’t bother adding that it would be the first one I’d investigated alone. At least, Solomon was on the other end of the line in case I needed him. I bet he was snuggled up warm in bed, unlike me. He didn’t stay over so I couldn’t be sure.

  “Okay,” agreed Michael as he unlocked the doors, h
olding one open for me.

  The spin studio had clearly been trampled and was left in a jumbled mess. Countless people must have been through here, none of them concerned that it might have been a crime scene. I mentally thanked Michael’s thoughtfulness in sealing it off so that any residual evidence might not get completely obliterated. “I can’t believe the police department doesn’t want to investigate,” he said. "Detective Maddox called and told me yesterday after our meeting."

  “I’m sorry. They just don’t consider it a possible murder scene.”

  “Like I said already, I really hope it isn’t. I feel sorry for the poor guy, but I hope it was just a heart attack or an aneurysm. You know, something natural.”

  “Me too,” I said, still skeptically fascinated at the probability of two natural deaths within two days, under the same roof.

  Michael took one last look around and shook his head. “I’ll wait outside. That okay with you?”

  “No problem.” Michael had no sooner opened the doors when I remembered something, “You said you picked up Karen Doyle’s water bottle?”

  “That’s right.”

  I handed him a plastic bag from my kit. “Could you put it in here and be careful not to touch it, if you haven’t already.”

  He took the bag and nodded. “Sure thing, Lexi.”

  I started with my camera, but first made sure I had a memory card inside. In lieu of something in particular to focus on, I snapped everything. Full scene shots and close-ups. Every item left behind in the rush to exit and every single bike. I snapped a shot of the doors, the closed windows, and the air vents.

  That finished, I made a beeline for Jim Schwarz’s bike, still lying on its side on the floor. I snapped a bunch of shots from different angles, not entirely certain what I was looking for. When I thought I was done, I lay my bag on the floor with the camera on top, just in case I needed it again.

  I pulled on gloves and went in for a closer look at the bike. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. On my notepad, I made a note of the gear position, adding a memo to see if Michael could get a digital readout of its last workout. Perhaps the heart rate monitor could provide something useful? Or maybe Jim was pushing the gears harder than Anton requested? Perhaps he simply overdid it and something inside his body just gave out. That would account for a natural death.