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Authors: Joan Hess

BOOK: A Diet to Die For
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“Well, I’m not supposed to give out that information,” the desk sergeant began in a drawl, “but since it’s you, Mizz Malloy, I don’t see how it’d hurt anything.”
“I agree with you, and I’m sure Lieutenant Rosen won’t mind one teensy bit.”
“Hang on and I’ll check the sign-out sheet.”
At this point, while I was on the edge of the stool and in danger of a topple, the door banged open and
Gerald Galleston stalked across the room. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
I held up a finger. “Wait one second and then we can talk. I’m on hold for an important piece of information.”
He took the receiver from my hand and replaced it. “No, we’re going to talk right now. I don’t know why you’re meddling in my affairs, but I don’t like it. Just what gives you the right to talk Maribeth into this job? She has no business working. She needs to stay home and take care of the house.”
“It’s only two hours a day,” I said, gazing sadly at the telephone. “I need some help.”
“Maribeth’s hardly going to be of help,” he said with a sneer. “She’s likely to frighten away the customers. Furthermore, it’s embarrassing to me for her to be seen in a store this close to campus, much less to be doing menial tasks. She was perfectly happy stuffing her mouth and watching television like a zombie. How’d you bully her into it?”
I gave myself a quick lecture on moderation, then managed a cool smile. “I asked her if she might enjoy getting out of the house for a few hours every day. You may think she’s having a wonderful time in solitary confinement, ignoring her weight problem and allowing her brain to atrophy, but I don’t. Once she loses a few pounds on this program, she’ll—”
“What program?” he interrupted in a decidedly ominous voice.
Alas, if only life had a rewind button. “She’s enrolled in a diet program,” I admitted. “She’ll be able to pay for it out of her salary.”
He silently stared at me, his hands clenched into fists and his lips so tight they were almost invisible.
I was about to inquire if he were in need of medical assistance when he said, “How much does this program cost?”
“Oh, it’s hard to say. It depends on the length of the program. In any case, she signed a contract this afternoon, so she’s committed to follow through on it. You ought to be pleased that she’s making an effort to gain control of herself.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’d be pleased if she looked less like an aircraft carrier, but no wife of mine is going to work outside the house. She can wait until the family fortune rolls over to her next year to do something about it. What’s the name of this rip-off joint? She’s not competent to scribble her name with a crayon, much less to sign a legally binding document.”
“The Ultima Center,” I said, wishing dear Joanie Powell were present to argue with the man. She’d gotten me into the mess, but she lacked the decency to be around when the excrement hit the fan.
Gerald turned on his heel and stalked back out the door without even thanking me for the information or waving good-bye. Then again, he was a member of the world’s second oldest profession, which had certain parallels with the oldest. I waited until he’d cleared the portico and vanished, then picked up the receiver and called the CID again.
The gods had put down their pom-poms. I was told Peter would be with me in a second and was treated to a watered-down version of an old rock tune until he came on the line.
“I heard you were inquiring about me earlier,” he said with an audible smirk. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t in. What luck I was back in time to take this call and thus save you the bother of tracking me down.”
“I just wanted to invite you for dinner tomorrow.”
“Of course you did.”
I resisted the urge to play a round of did-too, did-not, and merely said, “Well? Can you escape this so-called major muddle for the evening, or has it become so consuming that you’re obliged to exist on hamburgers and no sleep?”
“I think I can arrange a few hours for dinner and relaxation, although we may not get much sleep.”
We settled a time and exchanged good-byes, he with his smirk and I with my sigh. No doubt he’d instructed the desk sergeant not to divulge his whereabouts in the future, thus thwarting the ploy. If Gerald the Bully hadn’t come in at that precise moment, I would have at least learned the location of the investigation. With that knowledge, the follow-up would have been a piece of cake straight off someone’s silver platter.
When I stopped on the porch to collect my mail, Joanie popped out of her apartment. “Why don’t you come in for a drink to celebrate,” she said.
“I’m not sure a dirge wouldn’t be more appropriate,” I said, then told her about Gerald’s reaction to the idea of Maribeth doing anything other than vegetating. “I would imagine he convinced the Ultima people to tear up the contract,” I concluded.
“But he didn’t. Maribeth just called to say he was impressed with the program and very supportive. He doesn’t object to her job either. It may have had something to do with the fact I told her the chancellor’s daughter works for you every summer.”
“She does?”
“I’m sure she would if you’d ask her,” Joanie said with the self-complacency of a hyena hunkering down
over a ripe carcass. “Shall we have that drink?”
I followed her into her apartment and accepted a well-earned glass of scotch. “I’m amazed Gerald changed his mind. He was rather strident about the matter only two hours ago, and firmly opposed to the entire scheme. He lathered and foamed at the very idea of Maribeth doing anything outside the house, and actually sounded alarmed at this change in the status quo. He almost acted as if he prefers her in her present condition so he can maintain control over her.”
“And over her inheritance,” Joanie murmured. “He may be in for an unpleasant surprise.”
“I certainly hope so,” I said.
The next morning I was awakened not by my alarm clock but by an agonized shriek from the bathroom. Imagining all sorts of accidents involving wet tile or razor blades, I leapt out of bed and rushed to the door. There was no smear of blood, no unconscious body on the floor, no indication of pain and suffering. Caron stood in one corner, her back to me.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
Her eyes wide with wonder, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I’ve gained two pounds.”
“But your carotid artery is intact? Good grief, you almost gave me a heart attack with that imitation of a banshee. I thought you’d—”
“Two pounds,” she said, dazed. “I cannot believe it. There’s something wrong with the scales, Mother. There must be. Inez and I drunk as much of that swill as we could choke down, and we’re supposed to have
lost
between two and three pounds by now.”
“Maybe it’ll drop tomorrow,” I said, heading for the kitchen to start the coffee. One needs to be fully
caffeinated to deal effectively, or even ineffectively, with a fifteen-year-old.
“I’ve got to call Inez. This is a nightmare worse than anything that happens on Elm Street.”
I got the coffee going and was heading for my bedroom when Caron stumbled out of hers and grabbed my arm. “Inez has gained three and a half pounds, Mother. What’s happening to us? Is this some kind of cruel joke? Did you and Inez’s mother tinker with the scales or something?”
“Of course not. Are you sure you’re mixing up the proper ingredients in the blender and using the right amounts?”
“Absolutely. We’ve been switching back and forth between the chocolate shake, which tastes like chalk, and the vanilla, which tastes like latex paint. Each serving has exactly three hundred calories.”
Aware that I would think more clearly in my bedroom slippers, I wiggled free and said, “I don’t see how anyone could gain weight on nine hundred calories a day. You must be retaining water until your body adjusts to the regime.”
Caron’s face turned as white as her bathrobe. “Nine hundred calories a day?” she whispered.
“Three hundred times three. Don’t worry about this weight gain; it’s temporary, and in a day or two you’ll lose all of it and a couple more pounds. Let me get my robe and slippers, then you can blend your breakfast while I inhale coffee.”
“Nine hundred calories a day?” she repeated in the same stricken voice.
“You’re taking algebra at school, but I presume you still remember some of the more basic computations.
Would you like me to show you on a piece of paper?”
She clasped her hands to her mouth and darted back into her room. I put on my robe and slippers, ran my fingers through my hair (which was grayer than it had been five minutes earlier), and was at the kitchen table when Caron joined me.
“Inez and I goofed,” she said, now subdued. “Neither one of us realized that we were supposed to drink that stuff instead of eating. We thought it was some miracle drink that made you burn calories, and we were having it between meals.”
She was so deflated I didn’t have the heart to laugh, despite the temptation. Instead, I patted her hand and suggested she reread the book with a shade more attention to the overall diet plan.
“We agreed we can’t drink any more of that stuff; it’s enough to make a pig gag.” Caron shot a quick look at the refrigerator, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “There’s no point in starting another diet while we’re both so depressed. Is there any sausage?”
W
hen Maribeth came in the next afternoon, I yielded to my curiosity and asked her why Gerald had changed his mind about both the part-time job and the Ultima program.
She shrugged. “I really don’t know, but all of a sudden he’s very much in favor of it. When he came home for lunch yesterday and I told him I was thinking about a part-time job here, he almost choked on an olive. I was … a little bit afraid, although he’s never struck me or even raised his hand. His abuse is verbal, not physical.” She hesitated, blinking rapidly. “But when he came home last night, he said he’d had a long talk with Candice and she’d persuaded him to allow me to try the Ultima program. She’s very articulate, and I guess he was impressed.”
“He came by yesterday afternoon, and he was more than a little vehement in his opposition,” I said. “I’m surprised he was willing to listen to anything, much less a lengthy sales presentation.
“Candice can lay on the charm with a trowel. In any case, Gerald brought home some pamphlets about environmental cues, and has agreed to attend the
weekly meetings for family members of those in the program. The first one’s tonight.”
“How were your first twenty-four hours on the program?”
“All I’m allowed are vitamins, potassium, liquid protein supplements, and ten glasses of water. I’ve been hungry enough to engage in auto-cannibalism, but it doesn’t really bother me. I’m pretending that the gnawing pain in my stomach is a troll eating fat cells.”
“Good for you. When do you start the exercise part of the program?”
“Today, after I weigh in. I dread this more than anything. I really don’t want to put on a leotard and allow all those peppy, flat-bellied size threes to see my body. Even in sweats I’ll feel like a great gray elephant, huffing and puffing through the jungle while they swing effortlessly through the treetops. However, Candice says it’s terribly important to maintain a high metabolic rate, and she says this Jody is a great instructor. I wish I had a friend to come along for moral support, but I know hardly anyone in town.” She gave me a look that indicated that she did happen to know someone in the immediate area.
“I don’t sweat voluntarily,” I said hastily, “but I’m sure Joanie will go with you this first time.”
“She has a special class from four-thirty until six. But that’s okay, Claire; I’ll survive somehow, and I’ve got to stop behaving like a kid on the first day of school. I don’t need someone to hold my hand when I cross the street.”
Maribeth gave me a smile, but I could see the panic radiating from her eyes like darts. I reminded myself of my ingrained aversion to strenuous physical activity
that resulted in screaming muscles and damp, frizzy hair. I forced myself to envision both digits of my age—in neon, blinking like a digital clock. I wisely pondered what a twisted ligament could do to my mobility and thus my income.
“I’ll go with you,” I said with a sigh. “Caron and Inez come in at four; they can mind the store for a couple of hours. Do I truly have to wear a leotard?”
“Not the first time,” Maribeth said, beaming at me.
I retreated to my office to see if somewhere in my chaotic filing system I had a hair coat and a whip. Self-flagellation seemed to be the order of the day.
Joanie breezed in at four, but I told her I’d drive Maribeth to Ultima and stay with her for the exercise class afterward. Joanie patted my cheek and told me I was a good person. I resisted the urge to pat her fanny with my foot and told her she was a coward who needed more than a visit to a wizard to redeem herself. While she was formulating a reply, Caron and Inez appeared. I told them to stay until I returned, then hustled Maribeth out to my car. I stopped at my apartment to grab a T-shirt and a frayed pair of Caron’s gym shorts, and we drove across the campus toward the diet place, the fitness center, and doom.
“Did you hear about that football player?” Maribeth asked idly. “Awful, wasn’t it?”
I nearly ran into a pickup truck that capriciously had opted to stop at a stop sign. Once I’d caught my breath, I said, “Not a word, but I never read the sports section. What’s happened? Was he murdered?”
“He had a heart attack in the middle of practice. He was running laps and then just turned blue and collapsed. The coaches tried CPR, but he was dead
by the time the ambulance arrived. I think the article said he was twenty years old.”
“Truly awful,” I said, disappointed that I hadn’t heard of some major muddle worthy of Peter’s expertise. “One would think that the athletes are examined regularly to make sure they’re in decent physical condition.”
“Sometimes doctors miss things, especially if they don’t know what they’re looking for. This boy probably had a congenital problem, or permanent damage from a childhood disease.”
I turned down the steep hill that led past Farber Stadium, home of the Fighting Frogs. The field was dotted with helmeted hulks in green shirts, all busily kicking footballs, chasing each other, knocking each other down, lunging into padded uprights, and basically engaging in various incomprehensible activities better known as practice. “Then they didn’t call off the remainder of the season out of respect for the player who died?”
“I think that sort of thing happens quite a bit,” Maribeth said, shaking her head as she looked down at the field. “Some of the athletes get too involved in perfecting their bodies, while others of us break mirrors and dress in the dark.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so we drove the rest of the way in silence. I parked under a shiny new sign that proclaimed in bold red letters ULTIMA DIET CENTER: WE DON’T WIN IF YOU DON’T LOSE. On the left was a slightly faded sign that said DELANO’S
FITNESS CENTER.
Maribeth sat for a moment, then opened the car door and struggled to her feet. I followed her up the sidewalk and through a glass door with the daily
schedule painted on it. Inside was a counter, on top of which was a silk flower arrangement and a clipboard, and beyond it a glass-enclosed office occupied by a petite blond-haired girl and a noticeably voluptuous black-haired woman in a tight white uniform. The two were discussing the contents of a manila folder, but they glanced up as the door closed behind us.
The blonde appeared to be no more than twenty. She had a dewy complexion that exuded innocence, in contrast to her thick lips and wide, heavily made-up eyes. She clapped her hands, and in a childishly high voice, said, “Oh, Maribeth, I’m so happy you came back! This is so exciting!”
The other woman was less exuberant. Her hair was pinned neatly under her white nurse’s cap, and her makeup was deftly muted. Smoky gray almond-shaped eyes gave her an obliquely oriental appearance, as did her olive skin. She was somewhat older than her companion, judging by the sprinkling of fine lines around her eyes and the softness below her chin. Despite the minor concessions to age, she might have stepped off the set of a television show, and I had no doubt she’d easily persuaded Gerald to allow Maribeth to enter the program. She could have talked him into lecturing on trade regulations in the nude.
Smiling warmly, she came to the counter and turned the clipboard around. “Congratulations, Maribeth; I knew you’d decide to stick with the program. We’ll work together to reach your goal, and when we do, you’ll be a brand new person ready to take on the world.” She raised a delicately drawn eyebrow at me. “Have you brought in your first referral? As I told you yesterday, you’ll receive a free box of the protein supplement of your choice, or a twenty-dollar reduction
in your permanent maintenance program.”
“I’m along for the ride,” I said coolly. Sleekly. Unlike someone in need of a seven-hundred-dollar diet.
“Oh, of course,” the woman said, laughing. “No one is allowed in the examination rooms with the client. If you’ll wait in the reception area, I’ll take Maribeth right back for our consultation. I’m sure you can find something to read in the rack.”
Once Maribeth had been whisked away, the blonde leaned over the counter. “There’s really not much to read on the rack, unless you want to learn all about the perils of excess adipose and clogged arteries. Can I get you a diet soda or a cup of coffee? Maribeth’s going to be a few minutes; Candice has to go over all sorts of details about the program.”
I agreed to coffee and declined artificial sweetener. After I’d been rewarded with a plastic cup of murky gray liquid, I asked the girl how long Ultima had been open.
“This is our first week, and it’s so exciting! We’ve already signed up twelve clients. If you know someone who might want to sign up, I’m sure Dr. Winder will give you, you know, like a quiet little bonus for the referral. You certainly don’t need protein supplements or an extra month of maintenance, do you?”
We both chuckled at the very idea. In that she was wearing a miniskirt and a hot pink T-shirt rather than pristine white, I asked her if she was a registered nurse.
“Goodness no! I’m just plain Bobbi Rodriquez, a junior at the college, majoring in physical education. After I graduate, I want to coach girls’ basketball or maybe own a fitness center like the one next door. Right now I lead one class after I finish here, but I
can’t imagine anything more fun than leading aerobics classes all day, can you? I’ve already started building up my leotard wardrobe. I found this incredible spandex outfit during my lunch hour today. Would you like to see it?”
I was eroding rapidly, and we hadn’t even started the exercise class. Before I could couch a refusal in polite terms, Bobbi bounced over to a filing cabinet, picked up a sack, and bounced back to show me her incredible spandex outfit, which to my jaded eye appeared to be a size one. Or zero. Or minus one.
“Don’t you just love it?” she demanded.
I admitted that I just loved it. I was about to be pressured into further lies when a man wearing a white coat over a pastel blue shirt entered the office through a door in the wall opposite the window. He reached toward a somewhat rounded part of Bobbi’s anatomy, then spotted me and smoothly redirected his hand toward the desktop. “Ah, very good, Bobbi, I was looking for Mrs. Galleston’s folder. Did she bring in those old medical records?”
“Gee, I don’t think she did, Dr. Winder,” Bobbi said, giggling. “Anyways, that’s Mrs. Alawan’s folder; Candice has Maribeth’s. Do you want me to ask her now while she’s with Candice, or shall I wait until she comes back out?”
“There’s no rush,” he said, then smiled at me. “Do we have a new client? I’m Sheldon Winder, M.D. I’m the resident physician here at Ultima, available for consultation five days a week from nine until five and Thursday evenings until nine, because we feel our program requires close medical supervision, along with support from the staff and a commitment from our clients. And if you don’t lose, we don’t win.”
“She’s a friend of Maribeth’s,” Bobbi hissed. “She’s not buying.”
“Well, then, we’re delighted that you’re giving her this kind of support, particularly during the first few days on the program,” he murmured. He went out the far door, and then came through another into the reception room. He looked as if he were no more than a year or two out of medical school, although I knew that the required years of internship and residency meant he was more likely to be in his early thirties. He had clear brown eyes, stylishly cut hair, and a lopsided grin that contributed to his boyish demeanor. He wore brown-framed glasses, possibly in an attempt to make himself look older. Personally, I preferred the grandfatherly variety of doctor, who’s had a few decades to perfect his art. After all, they do call it practice.
“How nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his slightly damp hand. “Maribeth’s quite enthusiastic about the program. I was afraid her husband, who’s a lawyer, would demand the contract be torn up and the obligation canceled. I was pleased that you and your wife convinced him to allow her to continue.”
Dr. Winder frowned at Bobbi. “Maribeth’s husband was here? Why wasn’t I informed of this? You know how strongly I believe in a family support system.”
“He came in yesterday, just as I was locking up,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “You’d already gone off to that meeting at the hospital, but Candice was still here, so she took him back to her private office to explain the program and the details of the contract.”
“And he didn’t have any problems with the small print?” Winder continued.
Bobbi shook her head decisively. “He looked kind of scary when he first came in, like he wanted to beat somebody up, but Candice said she straightened him out in no time at all and sent him away with the environmental cues material.”
Winder nodded, but before he could leap back into his diet jargon, the door opened and Maribeth joined us. Her voice almost shaking, she said, “Guess what—I lost three pounds! What’s more, my blood pressure’s down.”
Winder threw his arms around her and hugged her as if she’d led the field in the Kentucky Derby. “That’s absolutely marvelous, Maribeth! Fantastic!”
Bobbi looked a little misty as she said, “That’s so exciting, Maribeth! You’re doing just super.”
Candice came to the doorway, a folder in her hand, and said, “Isn’t this so thrilling for Maribeth, losing three pounds the very first day? Her ketones were right on the button, and when I read the scales, I was so breathless I almost had to sit down to collect myself.”

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