Death of a Christmas Caterer (11 page)

Chapter 19

As she slurped her energy drink behind the reception desk at the Bar Harbor Gym, Kiki Richards stared at Hayley. “I'm sorry, Hayley. I must not have heard you correctly. What did you say?”

“I'm serious, Kiki. I'm here to work out.”

Kiki abruptly giggled, spitting up a little of the fizzy concoction she was guzzling. She set the can down and typed a few keys on her computer. “I'm sorry. It's just that you haven't been here in so long. When was the last time you were here?”

“I don't remember,” Hayley said quietly.

“I think it was last January. Am I right? You always come in right after New Year's because you weigh yourself on the first and can't believe how many pounds you packed on during the holidays. Then you sign up for a few boot camp classes, show up to the first one, and then we don't see you again until after the following new year.”

“Well, I must say I'm impressed with how familiar you are with my behavior patterns, Kiki. Now, if you don't mind buzzing me in, I'd like to do some time on the treadmill.”

“I can't. Your membership has expired.”

“When?”

“Last June. We sent you a letter and left a message on your home voice mail, but you never got back to us.”

“It's been a very busy year,” Hayley said. “I'm just now catching up with my to-do list. Number eight, get in shape. So here I am, ready to renew my membership.”

“Why are you really here, Hayley? There has to be some other reason besides wanting to work out.”

It wasn't that the toned, blond, annoyingly pretty Kiki was a smart, intuitive person. In fact, she only got through high school because some of her male teachers were more understanding than her less forgiving female teachers. But Kiki didn't have to be a brain trust to know Hayley had ulterior motives showing up at the gym today. Everyone in town knew she hated working out. A short run with Leroy on the park trails a few times a year basically summed up her workout routine.

“Okay, fine, Kiki. I was hoping to find Tiffany Rawlings here.”

“She showed up about twenty minutes ago. Today is her cross-training day,” Kiki said, nodding, her blond ponytail bouncing from side to side.

After leaving Connie Sparks, Hayley had called the office to see if Sal was back from Augusta. She didn't want him noticing she had been gone most of the day. Bruce informed her that Sal would not be coming back to the office and was heading straight home because he had the sniffles. Hayley seized upon that opportunity to drive back over to Tiffany's house to prod her gently about the rumored affair with Ken Massey. The house was locked up tight and Tiffany's car was gone, so Hayley pulled out her phone and checked Tiffany's Facebook page. She had checked in at the local gym. Hayley loved Facebook. In the past a detective would have to tail a subject day and night to keep tabs on him or her. Now, thanks to Facebook, most of the time the subject of your surveillance did all of the work for you.

“Okay, how much to renew my membership?” Hayley asked, pulling her wallet out of her bag.

“Why not make this easier on yourself and just purchase a day pass? It's only ten dollars. That way you won't feel the pressure of coming back again because you bought a full year membership.”

It disturbed Hayley how well Kiki knew her. She opened her wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill and slapped it down on the reception desk.

Kiki smiled and slid the bill in a drawer and pressed a button to buzz Hayley through the glass door separating the lobby from the gym area.

After changing in the women's locker room into some black spandex pants and a pink top, which seemed to take a perverse joy in highlighting her love handles, Hayley wandered around the gym, hoping to spot Tiffany.

“Sweet mother of Christ! What are you doing here?”

It was Mona.

She was dressed in faded-gray sweats and Reeboks, huffing and puffing on a StairMaster, her face red and splotchy from the exertion.

“Me? What are
you
doing here?”

“Losing my baby weight.”

“Mona, you popped out your last kid almost two years ago.”

“You know me. I don't like to rush things,” Mona said, gasping. She was almost out of breath; her arms and legs were moving in tandem with the machine. “This is like a friggin' torture wheel! Wanna bag this place and go get a drink at Randy's place?”

“In a few minutes. I need to find Tiffany Rawlings. Have you seen her?”

“Yeah, over there on one of the spinning bikes,” Mona panted.

Hayley glanced over to see Tiffany, who wore a tight green top that accentuated her curvaceous figure and very short yellow shorts. Her bum was in the air, and she was cycling as fast as she could. Sweat poured down her face, and she had a look of fierce determination in her eye that just made Hayley feel tired.

Mona hit a button on the StairMaster console and climbed down. “I'm done.”

Hayley looked at the digital timer on the machine. “Six minutes. Not bad.”

“I'm up two. Yesterday I stopped at four. I don't know why I'm even trying to lose this baby weight. Both you and I know I'm just going to get knocked up again anyway. It's the only thing my husband's good at. I'm going to hit the showers. I'll meet you in the lobby in twenty minutes.”

Mona plodded away toward the women's locker room, and Hayley veered off in the opposite direction toward Tiffany, when suddenly she felt a hand cupping her butt. She spun around to see the handsome curly-haired blond paramedic Rusty Wyatt in a ratty, ripped white tank top, which fell over his muscular, smooth chest.

If only Hayley were ten years younger.

Hell, she'd still be too old for him.

“I sent Santa my wish list and here you are,” Rusty said, trying hard to be cool and relaxed.

“Nice to see you again, Rusty,” Hayley said, uncomfortable with him ogling her breasts.

“You looking for a partner?” Rusty asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“I've been seeing someone, Rusty. Someone age appropriate.”

“I mean a workout partner. I was going to find you one. I'm here with my workout buddy, Ken,” Rusty said, gesturing across the gym to Ken Massey. He was only a few feet away from Tiffany, who was now cooling down on her cycle. Ken huffed and puffed as he lifted some very heavy-looking weights.

They were both clearly going out of their way pretending not to notice the other so people wouldn't get the wrong idea.

“So you and Ken work out here together all the time?” Hayley asked, removing Rusty's hand from her butt.

“Every day. Right up until closing.”

“Unless you're on call and someone needs an ambulance, and then you're on duty. Like the day Garth Rawlings died.”

“Yup. We were doing reps over there when I got the call and had to take off early. But I made up for it the next day with some extra crunches. It takes a lot of hours to get a body like this, Hayley,” Rusty said, flexing his pecs, which were so heavy with muscle you could almost feel them slamming against his body as he bounced them. “Sometimes I ask myself, I say, ‘Rusty, what are you doing all this for? Your health?' Maybe. But then I think, ‘I'm young. I've got years of good health ahead of me. No, Rusty. You're staying in tip-top shape for that one special woman who is going to swoop in and change your life. Really rock your world. You probably haven't even met her yet.' Or maybe I have.”

His hand found Hayley's butt again.

Hayley brushed it away again. “Well, I'll be sure to keep my eye out for her.”

She left Rusty flexing his pecs and turned toward Tiffany, who was off the cycle now and toweling the sweat off her face.

Kiki passed in front of Hayley with an armful of freshly laundered towels.

Hayley stopped her. “Kiki, are you here every week night until closing?”

“Two to eight, five days a week.”

“And you see Ken Massey and Rusty Wyatt working out together every day?”

“Like clockwork. Those two are obsessive, which is why they're both so incredibly hot,” Kiki said, practically drooling. “I tell the bosses we should photograph them for an ad promoting the gym.”

“So you were here working on the night Garth Rawlings was found dead in his warehouse kitchen and they were both here the entire time?”

“Yes. Like I said, every night. Oh, wait a minute. Didn't they find him on the day of Midnight Madness?”

“That's right. The coroner said he died sometime between five and seven in the evening. Why?”

“Well, we closed early that day because the owners needed to set up. They decided to give out free energy drinks and protein shakes and pamphlets to the gym to any locals who dropped by during the business crawl.”

“How early did you close?”

“Five o'clock. We had to shoo everybody out, and, believe me, they were not happy about it.”

“So Ken and Rusty both left the gym at five o'clock?”

“Actually, I don't remember seeing Ken. Or Rusty, come to think of it. Neither of them worked out that day, which I found odd, because they're
always
here.”

Ken Massey was lying. He wasn't working out at the gym during the time of the murder. And Ken's airtight alibi, Rusty Wyatt, was lying too.

But why?

Ken Massey certainly had a motive to kill Garth. But what did Rusty Wyatt have against the victim?

And just because they were both lying about their whereabouts still didn't answer the question as to how they got inside a locked warehouse and fatally beat a man to death.

But given their muscles, they were certainly capable of it.

Kiki sauntered off with her towels as Hayley turned around, suddenly finding herself face-to-face with Ken Massey. He had been standing only a few feet behind her during her conversation with Kiki and must have overheard everything.

His tight blue t-shirt was drenched with sweat stains and his gray shorts were borderline obscene as they showed off his manly bulge.

“You need a spotter while you lift weights, Hayley?”

“No, thanks, Ken,” Hayley said, trying to pass him.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it hard. “I think I could seriously help you stay healthy. We can start by dropping this whole Garth Rawlings business.”

“Let go of me,” Hayley said through gritted teeth.

Ken gripped her wrist tighter. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Then why did you lie about being here? Where were you? With your girlfriend?”

Hayley pointed to Tiffany, who could no longer pretend to be ignoring Ken. She was staring at the two of them, mouth agape, clearly rattled by their tense conversation.

“How d-did you . . . ,” Ken stammered, the blood draining from his face.

He instantly let go of Hayley.

She rubbed her wrist and marched off to the women's locker room.

Hayley had barely made it to her locker and was just starting to spin the padlock to the right combination numbers, when someone came up fast behind her and yanked her back by the hair. Hayley tumbled over the long wooden bench dividing the rows of lockers and nearly cracked her head on the hard tile-floor surface.

Tiffany Rawlings hovered over her, hands on hips, eyes blazing.

“I think it's time you stopped spreading false rumors about me,” Tiffany sneered. “Or we're going to have a major problem.”

“I have no interest in rumors,” Hayley said, using the bench to lift herself back up. “I only care about the facts. And we both know the facts now, don't we, Tiffany?”

Tiffany stepped forward. She was lean but strong, and almost a foot taller than Hayley. She pressed a finger hard against Hayley's chest. “Stop snooping into my private affairs, precious. Because I can get mean if I have to.”

“It's amazing how fast you've gone from tearful, fragile widow to tough-talking ballbuster,” Hayley said, her defiance pissing off Tiffany even more.

Tiffany lashed out, grabbing Hayley by the throat, choking her.

Hayley gasped and clawed at Tiffany's hands, unable to break her iron grip.

“You have no idea what you're talking about!” Tiffany growled.

Hayley couldn't breathe.

Tiffany's clutch was crushing her windpipe.

There was no one around to help her.

But then the running water in the shower stopped and Mona emerged in a white towel, shaking water out of her hair. She stopped suddenly at the sight of her drinking buddy being strangled by some statuesque she-beast.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Hayley couldn't speak because the she-beast had her by the throat.

Tiffany glanced over at Mona, unconcerned. “It's none of your business!”

Mona adjusted her towel and strutted over to Tiffany. “This
is
my business because that's my best friend and you seem to be choking her. Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?”

Tiffany may have been tough, but good ole Mona was a Mack truck. She grabbed Tiffany's hand that was holding Hayley and stepped between them and then twisted it around until Tiffany finally let go of Hayley, who sank to the floor, gasping for air.

Tiffany assumed it was over and turned to leave, but Mona wasn't finished.

There was a little something called defending her friend's honor.

Mona spun Tiffany back around, gave her a hard shove, and sent her reeling to the floor.

Tiffany raised herself up again, brushed herself off, and then glared at Mona before charging toward her, swinging at her with a roundhouse punch. Mona anticipated the move and ducked in time for it to miss her jaw with a
whoosh.