“She’s not there,” a lilting voice startled me.
I whirled around to see Maggie’s neighbor coming up the walk to her place. She wore a summer dress and sandals, and she had curly red hair and long muscular legs and, I noticed, just a touch of makeup. Just coming from church? I wondered.
“Oh, hi,” I said. “I thought I heard someone inside.”
“It’s probably her dog,” the woman said. She paused by her door. “Maggie goes to the gym every Sunday around this time.”
Some of the articles I’d read last night said that people who liked to go to the gym generally kept to a routine schedule. Apparently Maggie fit this – a creature of habit.
I gestured to the north. “Planet Fitness?”
“No, 24-Hour Fitness,” she said, “in Green Mountain.”
I must’ve had a confused look on my face because she followed that up with, “It’s west on Alameda.”
In truth, I was wondering about Maggie going to a different gym. To build her clientele for whatever she was selling?
“Oh, got it,” I said, still grateful she’d clarified where 24-Hour Fitness was, as I had no idea. Alameda Avenue was just north of where we were, and I could Google the gym to find the exact location.
“Maggie teaches a spin class on Tuesday nights. It’s not as fun as being out on your bike, but it’s good. She keeps the workout upbeat.”
“I might be interested in something like that.” I subtly puffed out my chest and sucked in my stomach, trying to look like the gym type, whatever that was.
“Are you interested in having Maggie as a personal trainer?”
I nodded. “Maybe. Is she good?”
“I think so.” She tucked her hair behind her ears in the same way that Willie did, only with Willie, it was much sexier. Or maybe I was biased. “Her clients stop by sometimes to get advice and supplements,” she continued. “I thought maybe you were one of them.”
“A client? Not yet.” In my head I was thinking, supplements? “What kind of supplements?”
She shrugged. “Beats me. I’ve never bought any from her.”
“Oh. I thought it might be something I could use.”
She surveyed me critically. “Yeah, it might do you some good.”
Oh, that was harsh. I kept my stomach in.
“So, do you see Maggie around much?” I asked, fishing for more information.
“We hang out sometimes, but she’s at the gym a lot.”
“Was she there last Thursday night? I thought maybe I saw her, but I’m not sure.”
She shrugged again. “I don’t know. She was out that evening.”
“When did she get home?”
“I don’t know.”
Suspicion crept into her voice, and I knew I would need to tread carefully. “I thought if I can’t find her at the gym, I could stop by one evening when she’s home.”
“You should probably contact her at the gym first.” Her eyes grew cold. “It’s getting hot, so I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, thanks for your help,” I said, then left before she had time to figure out I wasn’t someone interested in a personal trainer.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I drove west on Alameda, just past Union Boulevard, to an area of town known as Green Mountain. 24-Hour Fitness was located on the north side of Alameda, with the foothills as a backdrop. We’d had a pretty dry spring, and the land looked more brown than green.
I walked through glass doors into 24-Hour Fitness and looked around. In the center of the main room, near the front entrance, was a horseshoe-shaped counter with some computers and a printer. Behind that was a large, spacious gym with stationary bikes on one side of the room and weightlifting equipment on the other. Wide hallways on either side of the counter led to other parts of the gym.
A tall, buff man with a shaved head and a friendly-looking woman in rimless glasses stood behind the counter. I thought about walking past them and into the gym, but then a guy with a gym bag came through the door behind me. He flashed an ID card of some sort at the woman, and she nodded. Scratch trying to sneak in.
The woman noticed me and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said and approached the counter. “I’ve been thinking about joining a gym.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” She smiled again and I noticed how well-toned she was, the perfect salesperson for the benefits of having a gym membership. “We have a great facility here, with free weights, cardio equipment, an indoor lap pool, sauna, basketball court and more.”
“Uh, that’s great,” I interrupted, hoping to avoid the full sales pitch. “I’ve visited a few other gyms and they’ve let me look around. Do you think I could…” I pointed to the big room behind her.
“Sure, we can do that,” she said. “I’m Katrina, by the way.”
“Hi, Katrina.” I matched her smile with one of my own. “I’m Philip Marlowe,” I said, using the name of another favorite detective of mine from Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep.
“Why don’t I take you on a tour and then you can look around more, if you want.”
“That’s great.”
“Hey, Mike,” she said to the other front desk attendant. “I’ll be back.”
“Uh-huh,” he said. He flipped through a muscle magazine, completely disinterested.
“As you can see here,” Katrina said as she led me toward the hallway on the left, “we have state-of-the-art equipment, and we’ve recently gone through a complete renovation. We even have a Pro Shop.”
“I can see that,” I said. I’d never been the gym type, preferring to be outdoors. Willie frequently jogged, and I sometimes joined her, but my resolve was not as strong as hers. But seeing all the people working out made me feel like a lazy slug. I’d have to think about getting in better shape.
“We have locker rooms where you can keep all your belongings safe,” Katrina droned on.
I wasn’t listening to her: I was looking for Maggie. But I needed to be careful because I didn’t want Maggie to see me. My fears were unfounded as we completed our tour of the gym without seeing her.
“So what do you think?” Katrina asked when we arrived back at the front desk.
“It’s very nice,” I said. “Do you think I could spend a little time testing out some of the equipment?”
“Sure, let me have you fill out this form and you’re good to go.” She pushed a piece of paper across the counter.
I filled it out, sure I was going to get phone calls pressing me to join the gym. All part of the job, I told myself. When I finished, I was able to walk around. Thank goodness I’d worn khaki shorts and a black T-shirt, so I at least somewhat looked like I wanted to work out. My sandals didn’t fit the look, but Katrina hadn’t seemed to notice.
I started down the hallway to the left again, walked through the pool area and was headed back past the cardio equipment when I spied Maggie. She was on a stationary bike. She hadn’t been there before; maybe she’d been in the locker room.
I ducked behind some weight equipment and watched her. She was chatting with another muscular woman as they rode the bikes. I started to test the weights while I kept my eye on her. She kept pedaling, so I kept lifting weights. I did some curls, and then some more. Maggie stayed on the bike, so I did some squats. And some bench presses. I was going to pay for this tomorrow…
Maggie and the other woman finally stopped riding, hopped off the bikes and drank from water bottles while they talked. Then they sauntered off down a hallway that led to the Pro Shop, a snack area and the women’s locker rooms. I stopped lifting, slipped past the weightlifting equipment and followed them. They paused near a table in the snack area. I ducked into the Pro Shop and then sidled out into the hall. I kept my back to Maggie as I halted in front of a vending machine full of water, Gatorade and energy drinks.
“…I can get you the ball,” Maggie was saying.
Had she said “the ball”? I thought. It almost sounded like “dee ball
”.
“I really need it,” the other woman said. “I’m prepping for a competition and it’ll really help.”
“Don’t worry,” Maggie said. “I’ll get it, but it’ll cost you.”
“I can pay,” the other woman said.
Maggie said something else, but I didn’t understand it. Then they walked off and I didn’t think it wise to follow them to the women’s locker room, so I strolled back to the front counter.
“What’d you think?” Katrina asked.
“It’s very nice,” I said. “Let me give it some thought.”
“Okay, I’ll call you to follow up.”
“Great.” But I didn’t really mean it.
***
I moseyed out to the 4-Runner, puzzling over what I’d heard. Maggie had a little business going, probably steroids. Had she and Pete been working together? How could I find out? Who would know?
I glanced at my watch. Barely one o’clock. The Rockies game hadn’t even started, so I had plenty of time for a couple of other things. I pulled out my phone and called Cal.
“What’s up?” he said.
“I need a favor, one where you’ll have to leave your house.”
“What?” He was cautious, worried, I’m sure, that I was going to ask him to do something dangerous. And I didn’t blame him. I had gotten him into some hazardous situations before. But in my defense, there were also times when he hadn’t been in any danger.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Nothing like that. I want you to help me pick out a ring for Willie.”
“Really? Finally going to propose?”
“Yeah. But I’m keeping it a surprise.”
“That’s great,” he said. “Willie is a wonderful person. And I’d be happy to help.”
“I knew I could count on you. Can you meet me at the Cherry Creek Mall around two? I’ve got a stop to make first.”
“You got it.” He even sounded enthusiastic. Must be a carryover from my news about Willie.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said.
I ended the call and drove back across town to talk to someone else who might be able to shed more light on Maggie and Pete.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was hot as I walked up to Pete’s apartment building on Washington Street, and the lack of air conditioning in the old building was noticeable. The stairwell and hallway on the third floor were stifling. No one was around when I knocked on the door of Pete’s neighbor Mason. A moment later I heard heavy footsteps. The door swung open to reveal a man of average height and short dark hair. I guessed his age to be late twenties. He wore gray shorts and a sleeveless white undershirt. His big, muscular arms and legs were visible for all the world – or in this case, me – to see. I’d like to think I’m not overly conscious about my appearance, but around all these well-toned individuals, I was keenly aware that I was not in the best shape.
“Yeah?” His voice was low and held a hint of threat in it. He held some kind of protein shake in his hand and when he took a drink, his biceps flexed powerfully.
“Are you Mason?” I said, feeling like my voice came out in a squeak. This guy could pound me to a pulp if he wanted to.
“Who wants to know?”
I introduced myself. “Your neighbor Jane might’ve mentioned me.”
His face remained impassive.
“I’m a private investigator and I’m looking into Pete Westhaven’s death. Jane suggested I talk to you.”
“Why?”
“You might know something.”
The face remained like stone. “I doubt it.”
“Could I trouble you for a little of your time to ask you a few questions?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess so. Come on in.”
I followed him down a short hallway to his living room. Although Mason’s floor plan was the same as Jane and Pete’s apartments, it was decorated very differently from either of theirs. Mason’s was a shrine to bodybuilding. He had a weightlifting machine against one wall, free weights strewn about the floor, workout magazines on a coffee table in front of a cheap couch, a television against one wall, and a road bike against another. Posters of bodybuilders hung on each wall. But where Jane’s place smelled of perfume, Mason’s apartment had the hint of a gym, musty mixed with stale body odor.
He sat on the couch and waved a hand casually in the air. “Have a seat.”
I glanced around. The only place to sit was on the weight machine bench, so I gingerly sank onto it, afraid I might somehow damage it and owe him money. It looked expensive.
Mason eyed me as he gulped down the rest of his shake. “Well?”
“Jane says you were here when Pete was killed.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I heard the shot.”
“Did you know it was a gunshot?”
“It was loud, not like a car backfiring or something like that, so yeah, I wondered if it was a gunshot.”
“Were you curious about it?”
“I was working out, so I didn’t pay much attention. And then the police came by and asked if I’d heard it. I said I had, and that it was bad if people were shooting guns in our building, but that was it.”
“What else did you tell them?”
He set his empty glass on the coffee table. “Not much. They asked me if I heard anything else around the time of the shot. I said I didn’t.”
“Did you notice anything unusual around that time?”
“Like someone named Charlie Preston leaving?” he said smugly. “He’s the second baseman for the Rockies. He’s friends with Pete. And I know he’s suspected of killing Pete.”
“Yes, like him.”
“I didn’t go out in the hall, so I have no idea who might’ve visited Pete that night.”
It seemed to be just as Jane said. Mason hadn’t shown any interest in Pete’s death. “How long did you know Pete?” I asked, switching gears.
“Since I moved in a year ago. He was already living here.”
“What’d you think of him?”
The stone face shifted with just the hint of anger. “He was all right, I guess.”
“You don’t seem sure,” I said.
He chose his words carefully. “I didn’t know him very well, but he was…full of himself. Because he worked for the Rockies and was friends with Charlie.”
“Most people say he was really nice.”
“He could be.”
“So Pete wasn’t someone you hung around with.”
He snorted. “Not hardly.”
I was beginning to see why Mason showed no interest in Pete’s death. He didn’t care.
“You didn’t like him,” I said bluntly.
Mason stared at me but didn’t answer.
“From what you knew of Pete, did he have enemies? Who would want him dead? Someone he had problems with?” I fired off the questions.
“Like I said, we weren’t friends. You might check with his girlfriend.” He shifted on the couch, the biceps bulging. “I guess she’s his ex now, though.”
“Maggie,” I said.
“Yeah. Man, they could fight.”
That piqued my interest. “You heard them?”
“Not when I first moved in, but the last couple of months she’d show up and it seemed they were always arguing about something. And then she showed up here with some other guy. Kind of a cold thing to do, bring your new boyfriend around your ex. Way to rub it in.”
“She was with a new guy?” I kept my surprise in check.
“Yep.”
“You’re sure they were dating?”
“I saw her kiss him outside of Pete’s apartment.”
I leaned forward. “Did you ever hear this other guy’s name?”
“No clue.”
“What’d he look like?”
“Ah, man, I don’t know. He was about my height…I think he had brown hair.” He held up a finger. “But I remember he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and he had a Rockies tattoo on his left shoulder.”
&nb
sp; “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Yeah, because at first I thought he looked like one of the Rockies outfielders, and I thought that Pete was showing off again, how he’s friends with the players. But then I realized it wasn’t another player, it was just some guy.”
“Did Pete say anything about her bringing this other guy around?”
“I heard a fight or two. He called her a few colorful names.”
It might be something, I thought. And what was Maggie up to? I had to agree with Mason. If she’d brought a new boyfriend around Pete, that was cold.
“So nothing else suspicious with Pete?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Sorry.”
A long, uncomfortable silence stretched out between us.
“Oh, what’s your last name?”
“Why?”
“I wanted to call you, but I didn’t have your last name.”
“It’s Dubowitzki.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
Nothing from him.
I stood up to go but he remained seated. “Thanks for your time.”
He picked up a magazine from the coffee table and began to thumb through it.
I let myself out and walked slowly down the stairs. When I reached the first floor landing, I ran into Jane Reichel.
“Oh, hello,” she said, surprised to see me. “More investigating?” She held a couple of grocery bags.
I smiled. “Something like that.”
“Did you talk to Mason?”
“I did.”
“Was he helpful?” She asked as if she expected the answer to be ‘no’.
“He didn’t know much,” I said.
“Yes, he stayed in his apartment that night, so I doubt he saw anything.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well,” she held up the bags. “I need to get this stuff in the refrigerator.”
The Third Fan: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 9) Page 7