Fit to Die (10 page)

“Professor? Woo-hoo!” Murphy waved a hand in front of his face. “I was asking you how your first meal tasted.”

“Not great,” James replied quietly without really thinking that hundreds of local readers would soon read all about his opinion of Witness to Fitness. “It was kind of a rubbery chicken with sautéed vegetables and tasteless noodles. I’m not much of a vegetable fan, though,” he added guiltily.

“You don’t have to backtrack.” Murphy assured him. “You’re paying good money for this stuff. What did you say?” She consulted her notes. “Around ten bucks a pop for these dinners? They should be filet mignon and lobster tail dinners for those prices. Don’t you think the cost of this program is a bit steep?”

James nodded. “I do. That’s why I really hope it works. Once the money is gone, it’s gone. There are no guarantees with Witness to Fitness.”

Murphy grinned triumphantly and jotted down his last sentence word for word. Closing her notebook, she said, “We’ll do a follow-up after your first weigh-in. Maybe we could meet here again next week.”

James glanced over at Lucy once more. She said goodbye to Carter and without looking over at James, rapidly left the diner. James was debating about whether to follow her out when Murphy signaled to Dolly.

“You ready to order somethin’?” Dolly asked, acting put out because Murphy hadn’t wanted anything to eat or drink when she first arrived.

“I’m feeling like a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake.” Murphy patted her flat stomach. “I had some store-bought sandwich for lunch and it didn’t do the trick. Not like your Clint’s food, Dolly. You two know how to send people home with full stomachs.”

Dolly beamed. “Ain’t that the truth? Be right back, sugar. I’m gonna make your shake extra thick so you won’t starve before that burger comes.”

“You knew just what to say to Dolly.” James wryly congratulated Murphy. “Look, I’d better be going.”

“Sure you don’t want to join me?” Murphy inquired, giving James that same flirtatious smirk she had used at Chilly Willy’s Grand Opening. “I’m sure Dolly could fix you some kind of egg-white omelet or something.”

James couldn’t tell whether the attractive reporter was teasing him or not. He flushed. “Um, I’ve got a ten-dollar frozen dinner awaiting me at home, remember?”

Murphy shrugged. “Well, maybe after six weeks have gone by and you’ve slimmed down, you can take me out for a celebratory meal. What do you say to that, Professor?”

James stood up as Dolly arrived with an enormous malt glass filled with a rich and thick chocolate shake, complete with a miniature mountain of whipped cream and a plump maraschino cherry on top. He almost groaned as Dolly slid the glass, a napkin, and long straw in front of Murphy. Instead, he issued both women a brief wave and fled the diner. He drove home to a frozen meal of Salisbury steak in mushroom sauce and an evening of watching game shows with his father. Neither his food nor his entertainment succeeded at driving away the memory of his failure to connect with Lucy or of the alluring vision of a tall and creamy chocolate shake.

Having attended two more exercise classes, the members of the Flab Five were full of complaints about a myriad of bodily pains when they got together Sunday night at Gillian’s. Gillian lived in a large and immaculate Victorian filled with a mixture of antique and comfortable modern furniture. James was admiring the patina of the sideboard in Gillian’s dining room when her cat, the Dalai Lama, entwined himself around his legs and howled. James bent over and scratched the tabby behind the ears. The trim feline cocked his head for more until James’s hand was covered in brownish fur.

James walked stiffly back into the kitchen, wincing over his sore muscles. His friends were gathered around the counter pouring themselves glasses of diet iced tea from a large pitcher. Thin slices of lemons were perched around the rim of each tall glass.

“Your legs hurtin’, huh man?” Bennett asked, noticing how James was near to limping.

“Killing me. It even hurts to drive.” James accepted a glass of tea from Lindy.

“At least you two don’t have to worry about bras.” She mimed cupping her large breasts with her hands. “I’m going to have to buy something made out of steel if I’m going to survive the next few weeks of that class.”

Everyone laughed. “I feel like I am actually exorcizing negative toxins by sweating so much.” Gillian turned on the oven. “I really think the positive energy of Dylan and Ronnie is starting to have its affect on me. I’m actually looking forward to our weigh-in on Monday.”

“I like Dylan a heck of a lot better once class is over,” Lucy stated. “He’s a hottie, that’s for sure, but he makes us work so hard that I find myself hating him somewhere between our leg lifts and tummy crunches.”

James smiled at her, relieved that she didn’t have a genuine crush on their instructor. Since Tuesday, he had been so busy arranging the details for the upcoming Spring Fling that he hadn’t set aside time to call Lucy from work following their brief meeting at the diner.

He longed to just stop by her house and profess his feelings to her, but somehow he never got further than daydreaming about it. And at home, he and Jackson had spent every evening making plans for a new kitchen. James was so thrilled by his father’s exuberance that he didn’t want to do anything that might influence him to backtrack to his former state of gruff detachment. Even when James cautiously inquired about his artistic success, Jackson mumbled something about the private nature of his work, but not in the same, snappish manner that he would have used a matter of months ago. He simply made it clear that his paintings were not a subject open for discussion.

However, Lindy was more than happy to tell the supper club members all about James’s ignorance in regard to his father’s astounding sales.

“So how did you think the old man was gonna pay for that new roof?” Bennett asked as he dribbled a light Italian dressing onto his salad.

James shrugged, smiling. He didn’t mind being the butt of a joke. “I was pretty panicked about it. With the cost of Witness to Fitness, I don’t have a lot of extra cash on hand.”

“Speaking of extra cash,” Gillian said, waving a forkful of salad in the air. “I talked Willy into working with me and Beau Livingstone selling Pet Palaces. Beau has had so many custom orders since Christmas that he hasn’t been able to focus on sales or balancing the books. Normally, I do the accounting, but with those two major horse shows, I’ve gotten behind at the Yuppie Puppy. Anyway, not only can Willy work with numbers, but he’s also an expert carpenter and has a whole garage filled with tools. He has been doing a great job assisting Beau put the finishing touches on our orders. See? There is a higher power orchestrating things so that we can all benefit from one another!”

“That’s terrific news!” Lindy clapped. “I’m so glad to hear that Willy has a source of income these days. I can just see him designing a Pooch Pagoda! Gillian, you are truly a giving person.”

“There’s a Chinese proverb that says ‘A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses.’ I guess I’d just like to smell good.”

“You smell better than this here ziti.” Bennett frowned over the large aluminum tray, which he had just removed from the oven. “I think it’s a bit burned around the edges, but that might give it some flavor.”

“So this is going to taste as bad as all the other meals?” James groaned. “I’ve practically used up all the salt in my shaker trying to spice this stuff up.”

“It’s not that bad,” Lucy snapped. “You men are just too fickle.”

Bennett looked surprised by the hostility in her voice. Lindy, ever the diplomat, quickly changed the subject while she helped Bennett pass out plates of ziti.

“So are there any updates on the arson case?” she asked Lucy while sprinkling heavy amounts of salt and pepper on her entrée.

“I was going to save all that juicy stuff for dessert,” Lucy answered, successfully diverted. “The liquor bottles were already analyzed at the state lab. Huckabee sent them both off ’cause he saw some strange-looking residue in one of them. Must be a slow time for the crime lab because normally we’d have to wait weeks for these kinds of nonpriority results. Turns out one of the bottles was coated on the inside with something that shouldn’t have been in there.”

Lindy swallowed and gazed at Lucy in confusion. “So it was, like, defective?”

“No.” Lucy paused for dramatic effect. “It had traces of a drug called diazepam. That’s the generic name for Valium.”

“Lord have mercy!” Bennett exclaimed. “Was ole Pete tryin’ to kill himself or what?”

“I don’t think he’d dump Valium into his whiskey if he wanted to do that. He’d just swallow the pills first and then take a drink,” James argued.

“The man drank, smoke, and abused drugs. The poor soul is probably better off in whatever plane of existence he’s gone on to now anyhow,” Gillian sighed theatrically.

James scowled with impatience. “But he didn’t smoke. He used chewing tobacco. I rarely saw the man without a plug. He even had one that day we all officially joined Witness to Fitness.”

“I didn’t realize you knew all about him, James,” Lucy said testily and then turned back to the rest of the group. “In any case, office gossip is that the blame is being laid on Pete’s door and because the insurance company isn’t wild about rebuilding, they are putting all the onus on Willy for hiring Pete as an employee.”

“That’s a load of bull.” Bennett stabbed a noodle angrily. “Willy didn’t know all of Pete’s bad history. The man worked at the high school for over twenty years, so he had an employment record. I’m sure Willy hired him based on that.”

“But who knows how clean it was,” Lucy said. “If James and I knew he was a drunk back in high school, everyone else must have known it, too.”

“This whole thing feels real funny to me.” Bennett stroked his toothbrush mustache thoughtfully. “Maybe someone gave a tainted bottle of whisky to Pete. You know, with the drugs in it.”

“But that would mean … You think someone tried to murder Pete?” Lindy was astonished.

“Or ruin our poor, dear Willy,” Gillian offered. “Maybe someone else started the fire and Pete was just too far gone to escape. Remember how angry Savannah Lowndes was over the whole architecture issue?”

“Or Mrs. Emerson and her youth group over those T-shirts?” Lucy added.

Bennett uttered an exasperated moan. “Come on, folks. You don’t think a group of God-fearing middle-aged women slipped Pete some drugged liquor and then burned down Willy’s store, now, do you?”

“No,” Lucy admitted. “That does sound far-fetched. It must have been Pete all by himself.”

As the group cleared away the dishes and loaded Gillian’s dishwasher, James debated about whether or not to share the altercation he had witnessed between Pete Vandercamp and Ronnie Levitt outside of Witness to Fitness. As Lindy passed out chilled cups of fat-free strawberry mousse, James decided to speak up.

“I did see an odd thing happen between Pete and Ronnie,” he began and then quickly explained what he had witnessed through the window.

“So you didn’t actually hear anything that was said between them?” Lindy asked skeptically.

James looked at his mousse sheepishly. “Pete felt sure he had seen Ronnie on TV. That seemed to bother her and then, when they went outside, I could tell that she was really upset. She threatened him. It was all in her body language.”

“I dunno, friend.” Bennett shook his head. “You’re a smart man and I’m not doubtin’ your power of observation, but she seemed her spunky little self when she came back inside.”

“Plus, why would Ronnie do either Pete or Willy any harm?” Lindy asked. “She’s just as sweet as can be and really, if you think about it, the Polar Pagoda wasn’t genuine competition for her. If it did well, Ronnie would just gain more customers!”

“I think her niceness is put-on,” James insisted. “I saw her mask slip a little that day and I just do not trust that woman.”

“James, darling.” Gillian reached over and patted him patronizingly on the back. “I think our little adventure in helping solve a murder last fall has gotten your imagination a little too fired up. Maybe you’re unconsciously stressed and the tension is affecting your rational judgment. I have a wonderful antioxidant red tea that could restore your balance and give you clearer vision.”

James clenched his fists underneath the table but kept his voice calm. “Thank you, Gillian. I don’t think I need any tea. I was just sharing my experience from that day. I’m sure you’re right and there was nothing to it.”