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Authors: Joan Hess

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BOOK: A Diet to Die For
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I’d heard it before, but I had yet to figure out if the boat to which she kept referring was the
Andrea Doria
or the
QEII.
I resorted to inanity. “Certainly.”
“The same boat,” she repeated. “Joanie may not understand, but we do. Right, Claire?”
“Right,” I said with admirable conviction.
Suddenly tears began to spill down Maribeth’s cheeks, and her voice grew so painfully hoarse that I could barely understand her. “You know what I was? I was a weapon. It was as though someone had loaded me with a bullet and pointed me at Candice’s heart. I never would have hurt her. I didn’t even care that she and Gerald were—you know.”
“You must rest now,” Joanie said abruptly. “Our visit has upset you, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Come along, Claire.”
We murmured good-byes and left the room. As we approached the elevator, Joanie said, “There you are. She was taking the caplets regularly. Either someone at Ultima was giving her placebos, or her rotten husband was switching them.”
“Placebos or something a bit stronger. The doctor I spoke to in the lobby said her symptoms sounded like they might be the result of anabolic steroids.”
“That’s absurd.”
“I agree, and we still don’t have a solid motive.”
“You haven’t discovered it.”
I acknowledged the veracity of her accusation with a sigh. My purse thudded against my hip, and I heard, or imagined I heard, the rattle of a lone caplet. I realized
I couldn’t tell Joanie about it, because she would demand to know how it came to be in my possession. Those of us without transportation needed to tread very carefully, if we didn’t want to trudge home in the dark. “Okay, we’ll presume she took the caplets as prescribed by the Ultima staff. Candice, Sheldon, and Bobbi were the only ones who could have made the substitution at the center. Gerald could have done so at home. But she lied when she said she was losing steadily.”
“Not Maribeth Farber Galleston,” Joanie said, punching the elevator button so hard I could almost hear a minute electronic squeal of agony. We drove home in an uneasy silence, and I was relieved when I could say good night and go upstairs. I was not relieved when I discovered Caron was not home. I checked her bedroom, which was in its usual state of artful chaos, and found no indication she’d been there in my absence. Bobbi had told me Caron and Inez had waited for me, then accepted a ride with a friend. What friend?
I called Inez’s house, but no one answered and I remembered Inez had mentioned that her parents would be at a meeting. The girls could have gone to the college library, one of their favorite places to analyze male behavior in a relatively safe (no one ever noticed them) environment, but Caron would have eaten spiders before setting foot outside in the ragged gym shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing.
And they didn’t know anyone in the aerobics class, except Bobbi, who was still there when I arrived and therefore hadn’t given them a ride. Jody had gone to the hospital to visit Maribeth. I found the telephone
directory, looked up Bobbi’s number, and dialed it. No one answered.
My fingers felt numb as I found the number of Delano’s Fitness Center. I let it ring half a dozen times, and was about to give up when a male voice answered with an impatient “Yes?”
“This is Claire Malloy,” I said. “Is Bobbi Rodriquez there?”
“Hey, this is Jody, Claire. Bobbi’s not here. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I don’t think so. I was half an hour late to pick up Caron and Inez, and Bobbi said they’d accepted a ride from a friend. That was almost two hours ago, and they haven’t come home. I wanted to ask Bobbi who offered the ride.” I tried to laugh, but it came out a shade too high. “I’m sure everything’s fine. Mothers do worry, though.”
“I should say so. My mama used to whack me if I was one minute late for supper. Bobbi said she had some kinda appointment tonight, but she didn’t say where she would be. I know what I can do. There are only half a dozen girls in that class; how about I call them and see if any of them gave your daughter and her friend a ride someplace?”
“That would be great,” I said. He promised to call me back, and after I hung up, I poured myself a shot of scotch and waited on the sofa, determined not to allow myself to entertain ghastly thoughts of perverts, kidnappers, or misogynists. I told myself over and over that at that very minute one of the girls in the class was telling Jody she’d dropped Caron and Inez at a movie theater—or, more likely, a pizza joint or the ice cream parlor on Thurber Street. Perhaps they’d stopped by Inez’s house and Caron had borrowed
more presentable clothes for the evening. Caron had been too irritated by my tardiness to bother to call or come by to leave a note.
The telephone rang. I grabbed it and said, “Yes?”
“I found out something,” Jody said in a strained voice. “One of the girls, Bettina, said the two left with a man, an older guy who was working out on the machines in the back room. I wasn’t here, so I didn’t see him, and Bettina had never seen him before. I keep those records in a separate file, so if you want, you can come look through the file and see if you recognize any names.”
“Bettina didn’t describe the man?”
“Nah, she said she just noticed them leaving and didn’t think anything about it until I called her. There’s not more than a hundred names. You’ll recognize one of them, call from here, and he’ll say that he took the girls to the movie theater or whatever. If that doesn’t work, Bobbi’s car is parked out back, so she must have hitched a ride earlier. She’ll hafta come back to pick it up.”
I agreed, but after I’d hung up, I remembered that my car was in the shop. Damn. I put on a jacket, grabbed my purse, and went downstairs to knock on Joanie’s door and further my career as a world-class liar.
She came to the door in a bathrobe, her gray hair wound tightly around spongy pink catepillars. “Yes?”
“I need to borrow your car.”
“It’s nearly ten o’clock, Claire. Wherever are you going at this hour?”
I couldn’t admit I’d lost Caron and Inez because I had been delayed in Gerald’s foyer. “Caron left something at the fitness center. Her math book.”
“I certainly don’t want to live below a math failure, so I’ll get the car key for you. Something occurred to me while I was eating dinner, and it’s been bothering me ever since. If the doctor Betty Lou overheard in intensive care did numerous tests on Maribeth, wouldn’t he have informed Peter that there were steroids in her system?”
I was too worried about Caron and Inez to do more than shrug, but as I drove toward Delanon’s Fitness Center her question echoed over and over again.
T
he front room of the fitness center was gloomy, but I could see a sliver of light under the office door. Feeling like a feverish woodpecker, I rapped on the glass with the car key until the office door opened and Jody crossed the room to admit me.
“Guess you haven’t heard from them?” he asked as we went to the office. “Kids these days don’t think about their parents, don’t think anyone worries when they stay out late. Here’s the membership forms on all the guys that use the back room. Most of them are bodybuilders, but we get some yuppie types, men and women both, who’re trying to fight off middle age.”
I wasn’t capable of conversation, so I sat down behind the desk and began to thumb through the forms, some yellowed with age and others so fresh the ink might be wet. The names seemed relentlessly unfamiliar, but I’d never desired to meet people who want their bodies to bulge in unnatural ways and glisten as though they’d bathed in sunflower oil. I was nurturing some unnatural thoughts when I spotted a name I recognized.
“This one,” I said, flapping the form. “He’s a professor in the English department. I don’t know if Caron’s seen him in five years, but he might remember her.”
Jody took the form and squinted at it. “Naw, look here where I record the monthly charges. He hasn’t been an active member in six months.”
I deflated back into the chair and resumed my search. The names were in no particular order, and they began to blur as I battled with a panicky urge to sling them down and burst into tears. Ridgway. Nehr. Hart. Montgomery. Mertz. Baxter. Jorgeson. Adamson. Harrington …
Jorgeson.
I dropped the forms in my hand and very carefully went back through the ones I’d discarded until I found Jorgeson. As in Sergeant Jorgeson. As in Peter’s minion. I licked my lips until I felt able to speak, then said, “May I please use your telephone?”
“Did you find the guy?”
“I believe so.” With admirable control, I called the station and asked to speak to Peter Rosen. When he came on the line, I maintained the same level of control and merely inquired if he had seen Caron and Inez.
“They ought to be home by now. They talked Jorgeson into going out for hamburgers, but that was more than an hour ago.”
“Did Jorgeson consider the possibility that I might be wondering where they’ve been for the last three hours, that I might be entertaining thoughts of seedy men in raincoats with pockets full of candy?”
There was a long silence. “I’m afraid it’s my fault. Jorgeson brought them to the station right after you
and I had our chat. I was under the impression you were coming here, so I let them fool around my office until I could no longer bear it, then slipped Jorgeson ten bucks to take them away. I’m really sorry if you were worried about them.”
“I was worried,” I admitted, sighing. I put my hand over the receiver and said to Jody, “They’re both safe at home.”
“Thank God,” he said. He cocked his head. “I think I heard something in one of the back rooms. The way the plumbing is these days, it could be a busted pipe. I’d better check it out.”
I waited until he left, then removed my hand and said, “Just what was Jorgeson doing at a fitness center?”
“Getting in shape for the annual physical exam. I could use some exercise myself, although I’d rather wrestle something soft and warm than a cold, heartless barbell. Meet me at my apartment?”
“You lied to me earlier today,” I said.
“I did? Then you must allow me to make it up to you in some way. How about a bottle of burgundy and the first fire of the season?”
“Well, it was more of an omission,” I said, lecturing myself not to be distracted by the image of wine and the cozy sofa in front of the fireplace. “Of course you forgot to have Caron call me from the station, so perhaps you also forgot to mention that Maribeth had steroids in her system.”
“Where’d you hear that?” he said quickly.
I leaned back in the chair and propped my feet on Jody’s desk. Permitting an edge of modest triumph in my voice, I said, “Oh, here or there. I hear so many interesting things these days that I muddle my
sources. Maribeth wasn’t taking them on purpose; she thought she was taking potassium. Someone made the substitution without her knowledge, which means it had to be one of the Ultima staff or her husband. Did anyone fingerprint the bottles found in her kitchen?”
He began to rumble at me, but I was too busy staring at my purse to listen to him. A muffled thud from somewhere in the fitness center jarred me out of the trance.
“I’ll call you when I get home,” I said into the receiver and replaced it soundlessly. I eased the chair back and crept across the office to the doorway. “Jody?” I called softly.
There was no response. Light coming through the front window lay in angular paths across the carpet, and the plastic plants were silhouettes of ludicrous insects frozen in time and space. My feet were merely frozen.
“Jody?” I repeated, forcing myself to move out of the perceived protection of the office. Something moved against the wall. I toyed with the idea of a heart attack until I realized it was my reflection in the mirror. I made it across the room and went down the short hallway lined with doors that led to the dressing rooms, sauna, and Jacuzzi. It had been several weeks since I’d attended the aerobics class with Maribeth, and I wasn’t sure which door was which.
I told myself it was not the classic lady-tiger dilemma, nor was I apt to intrude on someone stepping out of his jockey shorts. However, I couldn’t bring myself to open any of the doors, and had decided to return to the office and call Peter for assistance when the door behind me banged open and Jody stumbled forward. I grabbed his arm to prevent him from crashing
into the concrete-block wall and hung on to him until he regained his balance.
“Claire?” he grunted, rubbing his head. “You okay?”
“I’m in better shape than you. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was checking the rooms, and all of a sudden something comes down on the back of my head. Help me to the office, will you? My knees ain’t working too well.”
“I think we’d better get out of here,” I whispered, slipping my arm around him to steady him. “We can drive to the nearest pay phone and call the police.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m saying. Lemme get the cash receipts out of the office and we’ll split like bananas, okay?”
It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but he was heading for the office and I was afraid to remove my arm. Looking over my shoulder with every step, I managed to get him to the office and close the door behind us. Once I’d helped him to the chair behind the desk, I said, “Did someone hit you?”
His face was pale and his breathing loud and uneven. He cautiously explored his head, then looked at his hand and said, “No blood. Blood scares me like I was a girl. No offense meant. You were real cool and collected back there. Thanks for keeping me from flattening my nose on the wall.”
“You’re welcome,” I said nervously, wishing the office door had a nice, sturdy look. “If you’ll get the receipts, we really ought to leave the building and call the police.”
He groaned. “I don’t know if I can make it to the car. I’m seeing stars, and we’re not exactly in a planetarium. Let me get hold of myself for a minute; it
won’t do us any good if you have to drag me all the way to the door.”
“Call them from here,” I ordered.
He blinked at the telephone, then picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. “Nothing. Line’s dead.”
“Then it’s been cut,” I said grimly. “I’ll help you out to the car, Jody. You don’t have a plumbing problem; you’ve got a prowler who doesn’t object to using force. Are you sure you didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone?”
“You know what?” he muttered, screwing up his face so that he resembled a Pekingese. “I could almost swear I smelled something, something sweet like flowers. Does that make sense?”
“If it was perfume … Is there any way Bobbi could have returned without your knowledge?”
“I was in here with the door shut, calling those girls and waiting for you. If she was real quiet, she could unlock the front door, creep across the front room, and hide out in the ladies dressing room, and I might not have heard her. But why would she want to do something stupid like that? All she had to do was tell me she was here.”
“I suggest the police take up the question,” I said, watching the door. “The receipts, my purse, and we are out of here.” I opened my purse to find Joanie’s car key, then looked up at the sound of his sudden inhalation.
Jody stared at the potassium bottle. “Why’s that in your purse?”
“I took it from Maribeth’s garbage this afternoon. Shall we go?”
He continued to stare at the bottle, and I could tell from his wrinkled forehead that he was doing his best
to think. A delay of that magnitude was inopportune, so I said, “I’m not sure what’s going on, but Bobbi may have substituted steroids for the potassium in order to cause Maribeth’s heart attack.”
“Why?” Jody said, his eyes riveted on the bottle.
“Let’s talk about it in the car, shall we?” I found the car key and held it up, noting that my hand was trembling like a cloud of gnats.
“Why would Bobbi do that to Maribeth?”
“How should I know? Maybe she thought she could blame it on Candice and end up with Sheldon,” I said irritably.
He sat back down, which did nothing to encourage me, and in a stunned voice, said, “That’s not why she did it, Claire. Have you noticed that jerk she hangs around with—the kid with the red car who’s all the time scowling like he needs to pee and knows it’s going to sting? His name’s Marcus.”
“He was here the first time I came, and was parked outside a few nights ago. We haven’t been formally introduced.”
“He’s her boyfriend, and he’s a real loser. He used to bug me about getting him steroids and corticosteriods and all those illegal drugs. He wanted enough to supply the entire athletic department. I finally kicked him out and told him he couldn’t even show up at the center, much less work out, but I know Bobbi was seeing him after work almost every day. What if he put the screws on her, and she sweet-talked Winder into helping her get the drugs to pass along to him? Winder’s in shaky financial shape; he probably wouldn’t mind a little cash flow on the side.”
Ninety percent of me was eager to leave, but the remainder was entranced by Jody’s narrative. The minority
ruled. “But why would she give Maribeth steroids?”
“Maybe Maribeth saw something, some transaction between them after her aerobics class.” He banged his fist on the desk. “It makes my blood boil to think about Bobbi doing that to Maribeth. It came damn close to killing her, especially since Maribeth had that heart problem from when she was a kid.”
“Some of your theory works,” I said slowly, “but how did Bobbi get into the Gallestons’ house. to replace the steroids with innocent potassium? Gerald keeps the house locked. If we add him to the group, we’re up to four conspirators.”
“That wimp? He couldn’t conspire to piss in a pot. Bobbi must have taken Maribeth’s key from her purse and had a copy made of it. The cops’ll find it.”
“Speaking of which, we need to get out of here,” I said, having finally remembered the wisdom of a timely exit. Bobbi was petite, but she was in excellent condition from countless aerobics classes. Her brutish boyfriend was not someone I wanted to encounter in a dark alley—or a dark dressing room.
“I’m not going to let anyone chase me out of my own place of business,” Jody said as he bent down to open a drawer. When he sat up, he had a small yet unpleasant gun in his hand, and a decidedly unpleasant expression on his face. “Not Bobbi, not Marcus, not anybody in the whole damn world. You go call the police. I’m going to see if someone’s still hanging around.”
“That’s crazy, Jody. You don’t know how many people are out there, or whether they’ve got guns too. You’ve got to leave with me.”
“After what they did to Maribeth, they’re going to
answer to me, Joseph Delano. Now you go call the cops; I can take care of myself.”
I picked up my purse and moved hesitantly toward the door. “I don’t like this. We’re not at the O.K. Corral and it’s long past noon. You’re not in any shape to skulk around in the dark, playing some macabre game with a party or parties unknown.”
He rose and crossed the room, took me by the shoulder, and shoved me out into the main room. “Go call the cops,” he said in an insistent whisper. “The quicker you call, the quicker they’ll get here.”
It was the first sensible thing he’d said. “All right,” I said crossly, then watched him melt through the door that led to the workout machines. In lieu of a bulletproof vest, I clutched my purse to my chest and waited for a sound, any sound, that would give me an idea of what was happening. Jody was dazed from the blow to his head. It seemed as if it might have been Bobbi who had attacked him, but only because he’d thought he smelled something sweet, and olfactory flashes are not dependable when one is bashed. And what could have provoked her into the attack?
I’d mentioned the potassium deficiency several hours earlier, and Bobbi had said she was planning to go by the hospital. If she’d hitched a ride, she would need to return for her car. But why come inside the fitness center and creep around in the dark, then hide in a dressing room and bash Jody? It seemed more practical to pick up her car, drive home, pack a bag, and leave town.
BOOK: A Diet to Die For
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