'S'right. We needed to get up anyway.'
'Be there in a minute.'
'I'm quaking with anticipation.' Rina's voice was light. First time he'd heard her cheerful all week. That was good. 'I'll pick up the X-rays for you, Daddy. I do know how
to drive. You even taught me... remember?'
'How could I forget.'
Cindy punched his shoulder again. 'Don't think of me as your daughter. Think of me as a cut-rate messenger service.' She paused. 'No rate, actually. Maybe I should start charging?'
'You charge, you're fired.'
'Wait till the labor board hears about you,' Cindy said.
Decker exhaled. 'All right, Cynthia. I'll let you pick up the X-rays. Let me call Dr Haverson's office and tell them you'll be in. Bring the radiographs here, and don't open them under any circumstances.'
'Evidence tampering, right?'
'More like common sense.'
'I won't open them. I'm not stupid.'
'You're not stupid at all. Matter of fact, you're too smart for your own good.'
'Attaguy, you know how to say the right thing. Now, what about Sondra Roberts? Did you call AA?'
'Are you checking up on me?'
'Yes.'
Decker smiled. 'It's not necessary. We found her.'
'You did?'
'Yes, Cindy, the police can actually function without you.'
'Where'd you find her?'
'Long story.'
'What's the upshot?'
'You don't give up, do you?'
'Course not. Where'd you find her?'
'We found her by luck at Silver's Gym. Marge is there now doing an interview.'
Cindy was silent.
Decker said, 'What? You're disappointed because we didn't find her through your tip-off?'
Cindy broke into laughter. 'Truthfully, yes.'
'Ah, the girl has an ego just like her old man.' Decker shook his head. 'Anyway, with a little more luck, maybe Sondra - or Tandy, which is her nickname I guess - can help us find Marie.'
Cindy didn't answer right away. 'I thought you found Marie at the bottom of the canyon.'
Decker scratched his head. 'Things are turning out a little more complicated.'
'What?' Cindy asked. 'That wasn't Marie?'
'I don't know,' Decker said. 'That's why we need the X-rays. So if you'd kindly get moving.'
'Peter?' Rina called out.
'Be right there.'
'Take your time," Rina answered. 'Did Mama make dinner? I smell something good.'
'She sure did, God bless her. Are you hungry?'
'Famished. But it's too early to eat now, isn't it?'
'I'll fix you a snack.'
'You're a doll. I'll need a pitcher of water, too. Your daughter has a healthy appetite, baruch Hashemi
'You got it.' Decker slapped his knees, stood and picked up the phone. 'I'll call the dentist for you. And seriously, thanks for helping me out, princess. It's not my idea of a hoot to go riding right now, but the boys... new sister and all. Guess they need me.'
Cindy threw her arms around her father's waist and hugged him hard. 'Daddy, everyone needs you.'
'Very funny,' Decker said. But he thought: ain't that the truth?
Marge thought, Baden Baden has nothing to worry about.
Silver's was not a spa or a health club or even a
community center gym. It was a warehouse, stripped of
anything decorative. No piped-in New Age music, no
plush carpets underfoot. Instead, the space had cracked plaster walls and broken hanging mirrors. The accoustic tiled ceiling showed waterspots from prior leakage, the linoleum floor was old and yellowed. There were a few fly fans running at full blast, but the place was still hot. Nothing but nothing here suggested anything comfortable and soft.
The area was filled chock-a-block with work-out equipment and heavy weights. About two-thirds of the stations were in use and more people were coming through the front door. It looked to be a busy evening.
To say these guys were musclemen or hunks didn't do them justice. They were mutations, like fancy goldfish -this one bred for a long fantail, this one for bubble eyes, this one for a dwarfed body. Instead, it was: this one lifted for elephant neck size, this one for a rhino chest, this one for legs as thick as tree trunks. Bodies blown up like overstretched balloons. As they worked out, blood vessels popped and pulsated under hairless skin, muscle and tendon became anatomically defined. It made Marge hurt to look at them.
What possessed men to do this to themselves? Spend hour after hour lifting backbreaking weights? Getting their butt shot up with anabolics that could potentially cause cancer or sterility?
Then again, what possessed women to starve themselves to flagpoles and barf up their meals?
When Marge stood the thoughts side by side, she realized that anorexia wasn't all that different from extreme weight lifting. Both groups contained people with distorted body images going to extreme measures to 'perfect' their bodies.
The perfect body.
Marge regarded her own corpus colossus. She wasn't fat, but she was large - heavy-boned, thick wrists, long
limbs and more than a fair share of muscle mass. And like every woman she had ever met, Marge was dissatisfied with the way genetics had molded her. Big-gal physique would never be featured in Sports Illustrated's swimsuit edition. But Marge could live with the pain. All her parts worked and required little maintenance to run efficiently. Perfecting the body was just too much damn work.
But obviously not too much work for the twenty-five or so men in the room. As Leek had described, the builders grunted and growled, sweat bathing their faces and bodies. Dressed solely in tiny little briefs, they did squats and lifts, leg and bench presses, thousands of sit-ups on slant boards, hundreds of push-ups and pull-ups. They lifted umpteen pounds' worth of freestanding weights atop their heads, muscles bunching, veins bulging, their wet beet-colored faces turning more purple with each second. Then in a flash, the barbells crashed to the floor, sending vibrations Marge could feel through her spine.
But no one else in the room seemed to notice.
The smell of toil and sweat combined with the heat made the place stifling. She felt deep wet circles grow under her armpits.
She jumped as metal crashed against metal, sending a ringing into her ears. Weights slamming into each other. A deep shout followed.
'Can someone teach this dickbrain how to use the weights properly!'
No response.
Without reason, Marge suddenly opened her purse and felt for her gun. Not that it would probably do much good against these guys. Their chests were probably steel-lined.
Her eyes surveyed the room. She hadn't noticed any women. But the man she'd spoken to had said Tandy had
just started her work-out and would probably be here for the next two hours. Maybe there was a separate work-out area for women. Briefly, she scanned the room again.
This time her eyes fell upon a figure with a long black braid and shaped like a well-built man. Around five-nine with a broad chest, small hips and round muscular buttocks. The legs were long with tight thighs and well-defined calves. The arms had biceps and triceps. The back rippled with definition. Then it turned around. It had breasts. Big breasts. It was a woman.
A beautiful woman with features that could have been on the cover of Vogue. An oval face with wide-set dark eyes, smooth mocha cheeks stretched over a sweeping zygomatic arch, thick dark lips. She wet them with her tongue, then picked up a weight and did a set of arm curls. With each lift of the dumbbell, her bicep became increasingly more contracted and defined. Marge started toward her, dodging sweat-soaked beefcake. The woman's back was turned when Marge arrived.
'Tandy Roberts?'
There was no response. The woman picked up another free weight, sat on the corner of the bench and began another set of curls.
Marge said, 'Excuse me, do you know where I can find Tandy Roberts?'
The wo
man spoke without looking up. 'Bug off. I'm busy.'
Such naked aggression. The girl must be on steroids. Marge reached inside her purse and pulled out her shield and ID. 'Police. Are you Sondra Roberts?'
The woman stopped and studied the badge. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place?'
'I asked you a simple question, Ms Roberts. I didn't expect hostility. You got something on your mind?'
Tandy finished her curls, then set the weight down.
Picking up a rag, she wiped sweat off her forehead. 'You don't understand buffing. It's a consuming process, one that requires continuation once you've started. Interruption throws you off your timing. Mind waiting until I'm done?'
Marge paused. Tandy was still sullen but more respectful. Not nervous, though. Good eye contact.
'Tandy, I need your help now.'
Tandy wet her lips. 'My help? For what?'
Once again a loud clank boomed from one of the weight machines.
Tandy said, 'Idiot! You're not supposed to let the weights fall like that. It shows a lack of control.'
'Anywhere we can talk where it's a bit quieter?'
'There's a juice bar across the street.' She stood. 'C'mon. Can you give me a hint what this is all about?'
'Marie Bellson.'
'Marie?'
'Yeah, I understand you were pretty good friends with her.'
'Once.'
Marge followed the girl toward the exit. As they were about to leave, a pile of chuck steak shouted, 'Hey, Tandy, you couldn't possibly be done yet.'
She tossed 'steaks' a smile and said, 'In the words of the inimitable Arnold, "I'll be back." '
'Not good, Roberts... to stop and start.'
'Tell that to the cops, Eric'
'Cops?'
Another voice said, 'Will you two shut the fuck up?'
Eric said, 'Fuck off.'
Tandy held the door open for Marge. 'Classy place, huh?'
'You people aren't long on patience.'
'It's part of the mind set,' Tandy said. 'You've got to
approach lifting like the enemy. The swearing and all that kind of jazz is needed to psych yourself up. Lifting is really hard work.'
'Why do you do it?'
The question seemed to throw her. She thought a moment before responding. 'Each person has their own personal reasons.'
'What were yours?'
'What does this have to do with Marie?' 'Nothing.'
'So my personal reasons are my personal reasons.'
'Fair enough.'
They crossed the street and walked into the juice bar in silence. The place was small, holding a horseshoe-shaped counter and about twenty empty stools. Behind the counter were baskets of fresh fruit, a couple of citrus juicers, several presses and three juice dispensers bubbling up lemonade, orange juice and some kind of green citrus drink. A young woman in a leotard and tights came out from the back and smiled when she saw her customer.
'Hey, Tandy.'
'Hey, Kathy.'
'Usual?'
'Not yet. Haven't finished my work-out. Get my friend a special—'
'An orange juice is fine,' Marge said.
'You're missing out on something wonderful.'
'I'm not hungry,' Marge said. 'I just ate two hot dogs with sauerkraut.'
Tandy frowned. 'Each to his own, I suppose. When I was having eating problems, nobody could tell me the gospel, either.'
'Eating problems?'
Tandy sighed. 'Do you want to talk about Marie or do
you want to talk about me?' She paused. 'What's with Marie, anyway?'
'Did you happen to catch any TV news today?'
'Nope. Don't watch the news. It's a downer. Don't watch any TV if I can help it.'
'So you didn't see the missing infant on this morning's broadcast.'
Tandy wet her lips. 'No.'
Kathy, the bartender, placed a beer mug filled with orange juice on the counter. Marge picked up the stein and sipped, waiting for Tandy to speak, throwing the ball into her court. She picked it up nicely.
'What about this missing infant?'
'Marie was the baby's nurse. Marie seems to be missing, too.'
'Marie's missing?'
'That's what I said. How well did you know her?'
Tandy paused. 'Pretty well, I suppose.'
Again Marge waited, expecting to hear Tandy ask questions. She didn't. Nor did she clarify her friendship with Marie. 'Do you want to elaborate?'
'We were good friends for about a year... maybe two years. What exactly do you mean, Marie is missingV
'One minute she was on shift, the next minute she and the baby were gone.'
'You think Marie kidnapped one of her babies?'
'Her babies?'
'Excuse me, a baby. She always referred to the infants under her care as her babies.'
'Interesting.' Marge paused, thinking that if Marie thought of the infants as her babies, she could rationalize taking one of them. 'Hypothetically, Tandy, if Marie were to take one of her babies, where would she and the baby go?'
Tandy's face registered confusion. 'I haven't the
faintest idea. I haven't talked to Marie in about a year. The Marie I knew wouldn't ever kidnap a baby even if she wanted to. So if she did, she must have changed pretty drastically.'
'What do you mean by "even if she wanted to"?'
She paused. 'I don't know why I said that.'
'Of course you do. So why don't you explain yourself.'
'Okay, maybe I do. But I don't think Marie would actually kidnap a baby, okay?'
'Okay.' Marge took another sip of her juice. 'So why would Marie even want to kidnap a baby... even if she wouldn't.'
Tandy didn't speak.
'Ms Roberts?'
'It's just.. ',-' Tandy sighed. 'Marie's very dedicated. Sometimes it hurt her to send a baby into a home with two strikes against it, know what I mean?'
'No, I don't know what you mean.'
'You know... send the baby to a broken home, to a teenaged mom who maybe would neglect her or maybe even abuse her. Maybe the mom is even a drug user. Marie used to feel it was condemning a kid to a life of misery. She takes her work to heart.'
Marge nodded, wondering why Tandy chose to sex the anonymous baby as a female.
Tandy blurted, 'Marie lost a baby when she was young. I don't think she ever got over it.'
'Really?'
Tandy nodded.
'She told you that?' Marge said. 'You two must have been pretty close, then.'
'Yeah, we were. Funny how things change.'
'Why do you think she told you that, Tandy?'
'I guess to draw us closer. And it did. That, and our professions. I'm a nurse, too. I don't work full time,
just float around. I have some money saved from when I used to model. Not enough to live on for the rest of my life, but enough to dip into.'
'You used to work at the Golden Valley Home for the Aged."
'Ah, so that's where you got my name. From Lita.'
Marge smiled cryptically. She wanted to leave Leek's name out until she had a chance to fully investigate him. 'Why did you say that Marie's loss of a child brought you two closer?'
•What is this? True-confessions time?'
Marge waited.
Tandy sighed. 'I lost a child when I was young, too. It's a unique experience, one that you can only share with someone who's gone through it. Our losses drew us together.'
Marge tried to appear casual as she wrote in her notebook. Just coincidence? Marge didn't believe in coincidences.
'It was a long time ago.' Tandy's eyes seemed far away. 'I was very, very young... and stupid. I used to be a model. A scumbag in the industry got me pregnant. He offered me five grand to have an abortion because he didn't want his boyfriend knowing he was bi, can you believe that? I refused the money. I should have taken it 'cause I miscarried in my fifth month. Bret gave me a couple of g's anyway not to blow his cover. I had lousy taste in men. If yo
u knew my dad... doesn't Freud say we go for our fathers?'
Faye Kellerman - Decker 06 - Grievous Sin Page 23