The Perfect Lie

“I think we may have a situation in here,” she said. “The bearded man standing in front of Detective Hernandez might have a weapon under his jacket. We’re not sure but we could use some backup just in case.”

She had barely finished her sentence when a loud scream erupted from inside. She turned around to see the middle-aged woman in line clutching her right shoulder with her left hand. Behind her, Ryan was struggling to rip a hunting knife out of the hands of the mumbling man. But despite his size advantage, it was a losing battle.

The other man had a frenzied anger about him and Ryan clearly wasn’t at full strength. Within moments, the man had freed himself. Ryan lost his balance and fell to the floor as the man regrouped and lunged at him.

Jessie hurried back inside, unbuttoning her gun holster as she moved toward them. She was just removing her weapon when there was a flash of movement in front of her. It was Vin Stacey, who leapt at the mumbling man, smashing his forearm into the man’s jaw and sending him careening back against the counter.

The knife flew out of the dazed man’s hand and slid across the floor. Vin stood over him, ready to proceed if necessary. It wasn’t. A moment later, the officer was on the man, turning him onto his stomach and cuffing him. Jessie reholstered her gun and knelt down beside Ryan.

“You okay?” she asked urgently.

“Yeah. I’ll recover, although I’m not sure my pride will.”

Vin walked over and extended his hand.

“Want a little help, brown eyes?” he asked, batting his eyes flirtatiously.

CHAPTER SIX

Jessie’s confidence was shaken.

As she and Ryan waited in the lobby of Solstice Health & Fitness while the general manager found Chianti, she kept flashing back to that three-second window before Vin had knocked the homeless man to the ground.

In that brief stretch of time, Ryan had fallen, a man had tried to kill him and Jessie had failed to act quickly enough to prevent it. If not for the quick action of a human tank with fast feet and a bit of a crush, Detective Ryan Hernandez might be dead right now.

Before taking the woman the homeless guy had stabbed to the hospital, one of the EMTs had looked Ryan over and given him the all clear. But Jessie couldn’t help but wonder if either of them was really ready to be back in the field yet.

Her internal debate was interrupted when the general manager motioned for them to come onto the fitness floor. As they did, she forced those concerns from her mind, trying to stay focused on the case at hand. As they walked over, Jessie glanced around the gym, trying not to let the pounding house music give her a headache.

The main room was massive, with a seemingly endless array of cardio machines. Off to the left was the weight “room” which was so vast she couldn’t even see where it ended. To the right were two dozen mats intended for stretching and, right now at least, for chatting while scrolling through phones.

The GM, a bushy-mustached man named Frank Stroup, stood waiting beside a skinny but ripped blonde woman in her late twenties wearing what Jessie considered far too much makeup for the gym. Her teeth were unnaturally bright and her breasts were squeezed together by a sports bra that looked several sizes too small.

“Detectives,” the GM said, forgetting that only one of them had that title, “this is Chianti Rossellini. I’ll leave you to your questions. Please let me know if I can be of any more help.”

Jessie nodded politely. He hadn’t been of much help at all actually. Other than giving the basics on Taylor’s employment history, he seemed to know little about her life. The facility may have been huge but Jessie thought it odd that the guy didn’t have more to say about a trainer that Vin suggested worked with some of their wealthiest members. They had intentionally avoided mentioning her death to him. But even so, Jessie would have expected him to at least be curious about why she’d been out for the last two days.

As he walked off, Chianti stared at them with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. She seemed to think she was in trouble for something. But her body language suggested she wasn’t sure for what.

“Ms. Rossellini,” Ryan began, managing not to start giggling mid-sentence, “how well do you know Taylor Jansen?”

“You can call me Chianti,” she replied, unaware just how challenging that might be. “I know her some. I mean, we work at the same gym. We interact most days. But I wouldn’t say we’re friends or anything. Taylor is very focused on her clients and doesn’t spend much time on chitchat. What’s this about anyway? Has she done something wrong?”

“These are just routine questions. No need for you to concern yourself beyond that,” Jessie said, not ready to reveal the truth until it served their purposes. “What can you tell us about her ex-boyfriend, the one who sometimes dropped her off here?”

“Oh, that would be Gavin. Gavin Peck.”

“Tell us about Gavin, Chianti,” Jessie said conversationally.

“Okay,” she said, losing the uneasiness almost immediately. “Gavin is a piece of work. He’s built, for sure. I think he’s even won a few weight-lifting competitions. And he’s—what’s the nice way to say it—volatile.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan pressed.

“He’s just super-intense. I used to work out at the gym he goes to and he was always amped up—really high energy. Taylor is high energy too. But in a more controlled way. He tends to fly off the handle.”

“Did he ever fly off the handle with Taylor?” Jessie probed.

“I only saw them together a couple of times and he was never like that with her. But I don’t think he took the breakup very well.”

“Why do you say that?” Ryan asked, giving Chianti his best “I’m really interested in what you have to say” look. She almost melted right in front of him.

“I heard that he came around a couple of times and security had to ask him to leave,” she said, blushing slightly. “I don’t know if that’s true. But it sounds like Gavin. He’s got a stalkerish vibe. Plus, he might have reason to be jealous.”

“Of what?” Jessie wanted to know.

“Not to speak out of school or anything, but Taylor can be kind of flirtatious with her clients.”

Just then, a pale, paunchy thirty-something guy in a sleeveless gray shirt walked by.

“Hi, Chianti,” he said shyly.

“Hey, Brett, we still on for your 11 a.m. session?” she asked, flashing those extra bright teeth.

“Of course.”

“Excellent, sweetie. We’ll keep those biceps buff, okay? See you soon.”

When he left, the smile evaporated and she immediately returned her attention to Jessie.

“Where were we?” she asked.

“You were saying Taylor can be flirtatious,” Jessie reminded her with a straight face.

“Right.”

“Really?” Jessie pushed. “We heard she’s very professional.”

“On the workout floor, sure. But I heard her on the phone, making appointments for private training sessions. Management officially frowns on that so she kept it on the down low. But her tone on those calls was definitely less…professional.”

“Do you think she offers more than just training sessions?” Jessie asked leadingly.

“I couldn’t say,” Chianti replied, shrugging. “I mean, who knows whether she she’s promiscuous or just a tease. Either way, the managers turned a blind eye because so many of her clients are big spenders. They didn’t want to risk losing memberships, you know? But sometimes she didn’t come in for days and no one said a word. If I did that, I’d be dumped fast. In fact, I haven’t seen her in a while. I figured this was just another one of those times. But now you’ve got me worried. Is she okay?”

Jessie glanced at Ryan, letting him know she thought the time was right. He nodded in agreement and stepped in close to Chianti.

“I’m afraid she’s not,” he said quietly. “Taylor is dead.”

Jessie watched Chianti closely as she took in the news. The trainer’s plastic smile immediately disappeared. She looked disbelieving.