Weapons of Mass Distraction (16 page)

“From the gym?”

“No, from before that. They all worked for the same firm, Simonstech, and they all left around the same time. I know Jim and Karen were both unhappy about something.”

“Coincidence?” Maddox sounded surprised.

“Do you believe in them?” I asked.

“Not anymore, but occasionally, they happen. How come you brought up those two? Apart from their connection to Lorena.”

“You haven’t heard?” I asked, surprised that I was ahead of Maddox on that one. Clearly he had only taken a cursory glance at Karen's file.

“Heard what?”

“The ME concluded both Jim Schwarz and Karen Doyle were deliberately poisoned. That they knew each and died within days concerns me. Maddox, this isn't just one murder case, it's three.”

“Shit! No one made that connection here! Damn it, I cleared Jim Schwarz at the scene as a natural death. I informed the Doyle family of the death too and said we’d look into it. I thought I was looking at an allergy case, maybe a food contamination. My captain is going to chew me out on this!”

“Oopsie?” I held back telling him I had also processed the scene and a bunch of evidence. At some point I would turn over my whole file, but right now, I wanted to keep the conversation on track.

“Ah, hell. This is just what I need. What else can you tell me?”

“About Lorena?” I asked, waiting for Maddox to answer. When he did, I continued, “I don’t see anything suspicious in Lorena’s life. I don’t think she had a boyfriend, but she was financially stretched trying to support her daughter.”

“We contacted the daughter. Her uncle flew out to get her and they’re flying in tomorrow. I’d hate to be her right now.”

“Me too,” I said, making a note not to leave anymore messages on Lorena’s brother’s phone.

A tapping noise on Maddox’s end of the line had me thinking he was playing with a pen while he thought. “I’ll make a few calls about their employer,” he said, just as I was about to prompt him. “It’s interesting that they all worked together and died days apart.”

“That's what I've been saying!" I sighed but there was no point getting exasperated. "I’d say it’s more than coincidence. I just don’t know why.”

“I don’t suppose I can tell you to stay out of this? I know I’m not your boyfriend anymore, but I hope I’m your friend, and you’ll listen to me and not just as a cop telling you not to. Three murders are a lot in one week, even with you involved.”

“It’s my job, Adam, and Lorena was my friend. There’s no way I’m sitting this one out.”

“Then make sure you don’t take any risks. That time at the warehouse when you were kidnapped, I swear, my heart stopped. I don’t want to find you in any worse situation,” Maddox said softly.

“I don’t see how it could get any worse.”

“Dead is hard to come back from, Lexi. Remember that. Take Solomon with you, or one of the guys. Take Delgado. He’ll have your back.”

“They all have my back,” I said, ninety percent certain that was true.

“I hope so. I do not want to be called upon to identify you in the morgue. Not that I would even get to the front of the queue. Keep me informed?”

We hung up, after I promised to be careful, and Maddox agreed to call me if there were any new developments while he tied the cases together at MPD. In some ways, even though he was my ex-boyfriend, it was easier to ask him to keep me in the loop, than any member of my family, of which many, many were serving on the police force. Maddox, at least, saw me as a grown-up, unlike my brothers who were programmed to only treat me like their little sister on a regular basis. Not that they ever thought I should sit a job out, but they often erred on the over-protective side.

I helped Maddox with a bunch of cases, and though he may not have always liked that, he respected how I got the job done and broke the cases wide open, leading to a number of convictions. Of course, since I helped catch several bad guys, my family grew more supportive of my career, and my colleagues were less snarky about my lack of experience. Finally, I found confidence after I proved myself and earned my place at the agency, but this case wasn’t about that. This case was finding justice for three innocent people.

I scrawled a note for Lucas, asking him to investigate a couple of pieces of info on Lorena’s bank records, and left it on his desk. Then I locked away my files, grabbed my purse and headed for the parking garage, ready for my gym-snooping shift. As I beeped open my VW, I thought about each victim’s seeming innocence. Based on their reported worries, I was getting more than a little concerned about what I would find the further I dug into their backgrounds.

~

“Thank God you’re here!” said the deputy manager when I entered the employees’ locker room for my break. Though I’d often seen the tall, blonde woman around the gym during my member days, and knew her name was Kate, I had yet to speak to her in my new role. She was dressed in her uniform of black sports tights and pink t-shirt, under which her biceps bulged, but today, she didn’t look her usual calm self. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! We’re an instructor down.”

“O-kaay,” I said, looking around for Michael, wondering what that had to do with me. Class instruction was not what I signed up for. It was effort enough to participate in a class, never mind stand in front of thirty hopeful people, anxiously awaiting to start their workouts. That, and I was absolutely not qualified to instruct. I only agreed to the undercover gig as the best way of unobtrusively snooping around the gym’s members, and not to actually
do
anything. Unfortunately for me, Michael was nowhere to be seen. “I think I need to be on the gym floor. Um, watching people. So they don’t break anything. Or themselves,” I added, edging away from Kate and her clipboard.

“No, no, we’ve got that covered on minimal staff. We need you to teach the aerobics class.”

“I don’t do aerobics,” I admitted.

Kate looked at her clipboard, flipping a piece of paper over. “It says here on your form you do.”

“Form?” I blinked, trying to remember filling one out. I had a horrible feeling Michael filled it out for me, remembering that he said he would square everything with the real employees.

“You know, the one every employee fills out,” Kate said, without looking up as she ran a finger down the sheet. “Yours says you can cover spinning, aerobics, pump, combat, yoga. You’re very accomplished. I guess Michael was thrilled to you could fill in for Anton.”

My hopes of talking my way out of this plummeted. “I.. er..” I what? I couldn’t do any of those things. Well, I could follow a class, and I was pretty awesome at riding a bike to nowhere while making my thighs scream, but teach? A class? No! What was Michael thinking when he ticked every box?

“Great! I knew you’d be dying for a challenge. These first few days in a new job can be pretty boring, even if you are just temp cover. This way. It’s in Studio One!” Kate enthusiastically lunged for my hand, grasped it and dragged me after her.

“I… um…” I garbled, tongue-tied as to how to get out of this mess and following in her wake. I frantically searched for Michael as we headed towards the dreaded studio and a class full of people who all thought they were getting a qualified instructor. My protests either fell on deaf ears, or got more encouragement from Kate, and before I could think to hit the fire alarm button, we were through the studio doors and I saw thirty people turning to look at me. I fell silent under their gaze.

“Here she is!” yelled Kate, flapping a hand the full-length of my body. “And she’s so excited. Aren’t you excited, Lexi?”

“So much,” I muttered, with a weak smile. Thirty people stood between the doors and me. Terror filled my veins.

“Lexi has been an instructor for five years, and she 's new here! Aren’t we lucky?” asked Kate, pumping my arm upwards, and squealing to a smattering of applause.

Wishing that telepathy existed, and for someone to get me out of this, I whimpered, “Save me!”

“I thought you worked out here with that blonde woman? The really happy one?” said a small, redheaded woman, turning to her friend who confirmed it with a nod.

“Yeah, I always see you two in spinning,” said her friend, a super slim woman in her forties with amazingly toned calves. I envied her calves. Shame they wouldn’t get a workout today. “I didn’t know you were an instructor.”

“Lexi has many hidden talents and she’s filling in for Anton for a while,” grinned Kate. “Have fun! Work up a sweat, ladies!” And with that, she banged out the door, leaving me quaking under the sea of eyes all trained on me.

“So…” I sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. “What are we doing today?”

“Advanced aerobics,” said the redhead.

Just my luck. Why couldn’t it have been beginners? Or even a nice easy activity like… I couldn’t think of anything nice or easy. This was just as bad as doing sports at school. Even though I never got picked last, usually getting snapped up right after the popular, sporty girls were picked, it wasn’t like I particularly enjoyed it. Physical exercise wasn’t all about fitness for me; it was a means to an end: looking damn good in my jeans.

“And we’re psyched!” Redhead, as I dubbed her, continued. With that, the class let out a collective “Whoop!” and spread into a formation of several lines.

I looked around for an excuse to cancel the class, anything to get me out of this nightmare. “I don’t have any music!” I said, barely able to keep the squeal out of my voice as I spied the music system at the front of the studio.

“The music is all on the stereo,” said Redhead. “It’s preloaded.”

Gah. I made my way over there, slipping just as I was steps away. I landed on the sprung slat in the wooden floor with a thump… and got an idea. “Oh no! I twisted my ankle!” I reached for it, allowing my lower lip to tremble in faux-pain.

“I’m a doctor,” said Redhead, kneeling next to me and taking charge of my ankle. “No bruising or swelling. You’re good to go. Hey, let me get that,” she said as she hit the stereo button. Seconds later, thumping music pounded through the speakers and all my excuses were gone. I narrowed my eyes at the annoying redhead and she retreated into the crowd, taking a space at the front.

Okay then. If I couldn’t get out of it, I would make them sweat, I decided, a bright idea hitting me. I thought about all the times I landed on my ass and got yelled at to get up again. I would take them through my Army boot camp training, one of the least fun bits of my disastrously short and ill-considered Army career.

“We’re doing something different today,” I yelled over the noise. Redhead stepped forward, grabbing something off the stereo and passing it to me. A headset and belt pack. Oh yippee. I hated Redhead and her determination to get the class started. “We’re doing Boot Camp.”

“What about aerobics?” asked someone at the back.

“You want to sweat?” I retorted. When all I got back were some mumbles, I yelled, “I said, do you want to sweat?” The class jumped as my mic-amplified voice echoed around the room. “Do you want to get fit? Do you want to burn that fat?” Finally, I got another “Whoop!” and steeled myself for one of the top ten worst hours of my life. “Then let’s do this! Star jumps, sets of ten, let’s go! I said, let’s gooooo!”

By the time I was done, fifty minutes into the hour, my class was a depleted array of sweaty, panting heaps. Pristine gym wear bore large sweat patches; there were droplets on the floor, the mirrors were steamed, and everyone’s hair was plastered to their heads… I didn’t look a whole lot better, but managed to bluster my way through. Between my shouting and running around, yelling enthusiastic idioms that sounded so much better when they were screamed, I made my class yell back as I took them through drills, and what I didn’t remember, I made up.

“That. Was. Awesome,” heaved the blonde woman as I instructed them to take mats and stretch. “I have to sign up for this class. Did you have fun, Amanda?”

The redhead, Amanda, looked up from her mat, and gasped something inaudible before flopping bodily back onto it. I wondered vaguely if I should take her pulse until she moved and groaned.

Surprisingly enough, some of the class thanked me as they limped out, utterly exhausted, and a couple asked when I would be teaching again. I told them to check with Michael.

By the time I mopped the floor of their sweat and went downstairs, my t-shirt was soaked to my back and Michael was waiting for me. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “ So, so sorry. I was in a meeting and didn’t realize you got dragged into this until halfway through. I came to rescue you, but when I saw the class in progress, you were doing great.”

“I think I’m going to die,” I said, the wind temporarily knocked out of me. “I don’t think my heart is supposed to beat this fast.”

Michael peered at me. “Maybe you should take a lie-down in the locker room.”

“Okay,” I wheezed.

“And a shower. Then we can talk about you doing another class.”

“Not on your life. This was a one off. Never! Again!” I squeaked, as I wobbled away on unsteady legs to lie down on a bench, in the quiet locker room, and try to live. By the time I got my breath back, my shift was almost over and I was shivering in my now cold, damp clothes. Grabbing a towel and flip-flops along with my wash bag from the locker, things I previously assumed would be little more than props, I made my way through the small, empty room to the showers. The heat of the water warmed me, and I scrubbed my hair and body, allowing the water to sluice the suds away before shutting it off, only moments before I heard footsteps entering the room. Just as I was about to call out, “Hello?” I heard one of the people say something that made me stop and listen.

“I shouldn’t have taken the cash!” said a woman. “I needed it, but I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“Be careful what you say!” ordered a second voice. This one was female too.

“It’s okay, it’s empty.”

“So how much did you get?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Just for the key to the building?”

“Yeah. They said they’d give it right back and I figured if anything happened, I would just say I lost my set.”

“Five hundred dollars is a lot of money. Why did they want the key?” asked the second voice, a vaguely Southern twang to her accent.