by Julia Derek
Janine and I started running slowly around the track. When we had completed two laps, we went back inside where I took her to the functional training area. There I put her on a mat and told her to lie sideways with her knees pulled up and then to swing her top arm in a half circle, a dynamic stretch to improve movement in the thoracic spine. She didn’t really need more movement in that area, but having her do this enabled me to get a great view of her palms, hands and wrists by helping her to perform the move. The skin on her lower arms was as smooth and blemish free as the one on her face and neck. Of course, this woman was no dummy. In order to avoid any marks, she could have used gloves with long sleeves when attacking Ariel. I told her to stand up next and we went over to a seated row machine where I had her sit down.
“Did you and Ariel start to train last month?” I asked her as she finished the first set of rows.
“Yes, we only trained together a few times,” she replied. “I really enjoyed working out with her.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s so sad what happened to her. I really hope they find out who did that to her. It’s such a senseless act.”
“I know. It’s terrible.” I pointed to a nearby cable machine. “Let’s go over there and do a set of chest presses.”
We walked over to the chest press machine and I adjusted the weight stack on it according to the notes Ariel had made.
“Do you think it could have been a jealous boyfriend?” Janine asked as she got in position. “I read about the incident in the newspaper and the authorities seem to believe it was a crime of passion.”
“I really don’t know,” I replied. “But I don’t think so. She didn’t have a boyfriend as far as I know. That’s why I introduced her to my client. She told me she thought he was hot and I thought he might feel the same way about her.”
“And did he?” Janine looked at me so sharply suddenly that, for the first time, I could believe she was capable of killing another person.
“Sure, she is a very attractive woman. Most guys would like her.”
Janine began doing the chest presses, using the cables. “Do you think he might have strangled her?”
“No. The cops took him in for questioning since he was the last person she was seen with. But they had to let him go. Except for him having no alibi for after they left the restaurant together, there’s absolutely nothing to suggest he had a reason to kill her. Apparently, the people at the restaurant corroborated his claim that they’d had a very nice dinner together.”
The senator finished her set of chest presses and we went back to the seated row machine.
“Does she have any enemies?” Janine asked as she took a seat on the machine.
“I’m not sure,” I replied and adjusted the weight stack that someone had changed. “I didn’t know her very well to be honest.”
The senator looked at me and gave me a small, enigmatic smile. “I’m sure it’ll turn out someone she rubbed the wrong way killed her. That’s usually the way it goes in life.”
***
I was still thinking about the weird smile the senator had given me long after we were done with the session. At the time, it had sent a chill through my spine it had been so devoid of any warmth, so very different from the general aura of conviviality the woman had radiated. She simply must have something to do with Ariel’s death. I believed this so strongly I had decided to give the NYPD an anonymous tip.
Using one of the phones at Nikkei, I called the Crimestoppers’ hotline and left a short message, telling them to check Senator Janine Eastwood for the murder of Ariel Rafaeli.
Surely, by the time we had our next session, Janine would have lots of fascinating information to tell me about the NYPD. If my gut was correct, maybe I wouldn’t even have to train her again as she would have been arrested.
However, until this actually happened, to save time, I should try to find out if there were other potential suspects. Given the general lack of sadness over Ariel’s murder among the club’s employees, it sure was possible that she’d rubbed people the wrong way in much the same manner she used to do. The indifference to her death was truly astounding, not to mention sad. There had been more upset faces among the staff when one of the trainers, a cocky young male from Puerto Rico, had been found beaten to death with dumbbells after once rubbing Felipe Cardoza the wrong way. That trainer hadn’t been particularly popular either. I would begin by asking around among the trainers at the club—the new ones, not the old. Several of them knew Ariel better than me. At least the current version of Ariel. Being on a floor shift was the ideal time to talk to people.
Spotting a couple of the trainers, two gorgeous, skinny blondes, working out together on the fifth floor, I walked up to them. One of them—Christie—turned toward me, in the middle of doing lunges.
“Hey, Jamie, how’s it going?” she said, giving me one of her trademark high wattage smiles.
“I’m good,” I said and returned her smile. “You guys are working out hard!”
“Not as hard as you,” the other blonde—Nicki—said. She was stepping up and down a bench, her doll pretty face flushed while her high ponytail bounced with each step.
“Ha, yeah, that might be true,” I replied and grinned mischievously. “I’m kind of a masochist…”
Christie giggled. “Ah, that explains it.”
“It’s terrible what happened to Ariel, isn’t it?” I asked, arranging my face into a more serious expression. “I can’t believe why anyone would ever want to do such a thing to her.”
Christie gazed at me calmly, no longer smiling either. “I can.”
“Me too,” Nicki said and picked up a pair of dumbbells from a weight rack nearby. “I know it sounds terrible, but she was not a very nice person. I’m sure she had quite a few enemies.”
I made myself look surprised. “Really? I thought she was kinda nice.”
“Yeah, I saw that the two of you worked out together one day,” Christie said. She rolled her strikingly blue eyes in a cynical manner. “She must have wanted something from you.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I know she came off as cold and was pretty unfriendly, but when you got to know her, she was actually quite sweet.”
“Really?” Nicki said, looking incredulous. “That’s hard to believe. Then again, she never tried to become friends with anyone. She always kept to herself. But the few times I did interact with her, she was never very nice. She couldn’t even make herself say hi when we rode the elevator together.” She huffed with disgust.
“She was probably just in her own world,” I said. “I mean, if she was not a nice person, how could she have so many clients?”
Nicki shrugged shapely shoulders. “Not sure. I think she was nice to them since they paid her. Plus, she was a very, very good trainer. That counts for a lot.”
“It sure does,” I replied. “Do you know if she had any enemies here? Maybe we can help the police catch her killer. That would be the right thing to do even if she wasn’t the nicest person in the world, right?”
“Other than being unpleasant, I can’t think of anyone who was her actual enemy,” Christie said.
“Not me either,” Nicki said. “That’s what I told the cops who were here yesterday asking about it.”
“They were here yesterday?” I asked. “Must have been when I was outside during my break. I didn’t see any cops.” Any time I could reinforce the fact that I was not a detective myself, I’d do it. Acting like I’d think cops in uniforms would investigate a murder, not plain-clothes detectives, would do the trick beautifully.
“They were dressed in suits,” Nicki confirmed. “They were here around one. Were you on your break then?”
“Yeah,” I said truthfully as, in fact, I had been on break then. I looked at Christie. “Did you speak to the cops too?”
“No, I was training someone. I think they only spoke to some of the trainers and members. And management.”
“They weren’t here that long,” Nicki said. “Maybe
she pissed off one of her clients. I could see her doing something like that.”
Christie nodded emphatically. “Yeah, me too.”
“Did you tell the cops that?” I asked Nicki.
“No, because I only thought of it just now.” She looked uncertain. “Should I call them and tell them?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.”
“I’m sure they already have a list of all her clients,” Christie inserted.
I had to agree with her; if I was the detective assigned Ariel’s case, I would definitely check with all her clients to find out if there had been any tension there. But who knew with the NYPD? So far, I wasn’t very impressed with what I had seen in the police reports.
Nicki shrugged. “I guess so.”
“I never saw her having any arguments with her clients,” I lied as I had seen her have at least one with Janine, but I wanted to see what Christie and Nicki had to say about it.
“I don’t think so either…” Christie began. But before she could continue, her eyes widened. “No, wait, she did. She had a fight with a male client just when I was hired at the club. And he got kicked out.”
“That must have been before my time,” Nicki said.
I looked at Christie. “What exactly happened?”
“She accused him of stalking her,” she explained. “And I think she had proof that he actually did…” She nodded to herself. “Yes, she did. He seemed pretty psycho. He came up to her and yelled nasty things when she was training someone and had to be escorted out of the club. It was crazy.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“Maybe a year ago. I can totally see him wanting to kill her as furious as he was.”
“She never mentioned him doing something else to her after he was kicked out?” I asked her.
Christie smiled. “I have absolutely no idea. Remember, it wasn’t like she ever talked much to anyone. If anyone would know about it, it would be Rolf.”
“Right.” I shook my head. “Well, I got to know her a little bit. I feel so bad for her. No one deserves to be killed like that.”
“That’s true,” Nicki said. She bent forward and began doing pushups on the floor. It seemed at least she was done with this conversation and wanted to get on with her workout.
“Well, I should get going,” I said. “Weights are waiting to be re-racked and towels to be picked up and thrown into the laundry basket,” I added with sarcasm. “See you girls later.”
I waved and walked down to the fourth floor. On my way I did pick up a few dirty towels people had just left on machines or dumped directly on the floor. But instead of walking toward the cardio area where there were always plenty of members I could chitchat with, I headed toward Rolf’s office. I wanted to see what he had to say about Ariel’s murder.
Before entering, I peeked through the glass door to his office to see if he was in there alone. He was, so I entered. He looked up from the computer screen and gave me a hurried smile.
“Hello, Jamie, what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to come by and say how sorry I am for what happened to Ariel. It’s terrible! I so hope they’ll catch the person who did it. I heard on the news that they have yet to arrest someone. I’m so relieved my client was cleared or I would have felt so guilty.”
Rolf’s bold brown eyes gleamed with an emotion I couldn’t determine. “That was your client she went out with?”
“Yeah, I introduced them since Ariel thought he was really hot. The feeling was mutual, so he asked her out.”
Rolf nodded. “I see.”
I exhaled. “Yeah, thank God they let him go. Do you think that guy she had thrown out from the club last year did it? The one who stalked her?”
My manager looked confused. “Who?”
I told him what Christie had said about Ariel’s stalker and how he had yelled at her at the club while she was training someone.
Rolf lit up in acknowledgment. “Ah, yes, I remember now. You must refer to Charles Hutchkins. I completely forgot about him. I suppose it’s possible. I believe he did stalk her for some time after he was thrown out.” He grabbed a pen and jotted down something on a notepad on his desk. “I’m gonna have to tell the cops about old Charles. I only gave them her current client list.”
“That’s good. I know she wasn’t all that popular among the other trainers, but I liked her. I got a chance to get to know her a little. I think she was just misunderstood. Will you guys find out where the funeral will be held? And when?”
“Yes, as soon as we find out we’ll send out an email. Look for it in the next few days.”
“I will. Well, I’m gonna let you keep working. Sorry for interrupting, but I was just so upset when I heard about Ariel.”
He gave me a warm smile. “No worries, Jamie. I was too. She will be missed.”
I gave him a nod and left his office, glad it had been so easy to find out the name of Ariel’s stalker. As I waited for the NYPD to investigate Janine, I would keep myself busy by investigating Charles Hutchkins.
Chapter 6
Charles Hutchkins was a forty-five-year-old bachelor with a strong predilection for strip clubs. That was the most salient piece of information George learned after he did the quick search on Ariel’s former client I’d asked him to do for me.
I had called George as soon as I left Rolf’s office, hoping to beat the NYPD’s detectives to the punch. After setting Ariel up with Ian, I felt personally responsible to catch her killer. If Janine Eastwood wasn’t behind her death, it sure looked like a jealous rage might have caused it—I could totally see an obsessed stalker like Hutchkins reasoning that, if he couldn’t have Ariel, no one else would either. Considering that my manager had forgotten to tell the detectives about Hutchkins, I should make it. George had been able to hack into Hutchkins’ credit card bills that had dozens of charges made to mainly two of Manhattan’s biggest tittie bars.
“Does it look like he favors one over the other?” I asked George. He had just called me to inform me about his findings.
“Let’s see,” George replied and I could hear him count quietly. “According to last month’s statement, it looks like FlashDancers has a slight edge over Sapphire. There are five more charges made to FlashDancers. They’re all around fifteen, twenty bucks, so I’m thinking they’re for drinks. A couple are forty and fifty. He might’ve run a tab those nights instead of paying drinks individually.”
“Any charges made the night of the murder?” I gave him the exact date.
“I’m checking… Yes, there are a couple. But those might have been made the night before. Sometimes it takes a while for a charge to go through.”
“Good point. How often are the charges at these strip clubs made?”
Again, George got quiet. Then, “About three or four times a week split between the two clubs.”
“Great, thanks. I think I’ll be visiting these clubs tonight and see if I can get an opportunity to speak to this man.”
After ending my call with George, I finished my floor shift and then headed to Ricky’s, a cosmetics and beauty supply store, to buy a new wig—one with long honey blond hair similar to Ariel’s hair—and fake eyelashes as well as some bright red lipstick. Then I bought a pair of black fishnet stockings that I would wear with my black leather stiletto boots and a short, skin-tight black dress. Since I was going to compete with almost naked women, I figured that the sluttier I could make myself look, the better the chance that Hutchkins would pay me attention. My only advantage was that I didn’t require for him to keep sticking dollar-bills into my panties to engage with him. A drink would do.
When I left my apartment that night, I wore a pair of oversized sunglasses. Even though I didn’t think that anyone would recognize me with all the makeup and the new wig, I wanted to keep as low a profile as possible. I hailed a cab and was on my way to FlashDancers.
I removed my sunglasses before I went up to the two gigantic, black bouncers guarding the entra
nce to the club. There was a short line of men outside and a couple of them whistled as I approached. One of the bouncers spotted me and waved me over before I could stop behind the last man in line. He and his buddy stepped aside, letting me enter the already open door without asking to see my ID. I took that as a good sign.
Soft music with a seductive beat reached my ears as soon as I was inside the dark club. The woman who sat in a ticket booth built into the wall just smiled at me and motioned for me to keep going as I made an attempt to pay the cover charge. I walked down a long set of stairs. The farther into the club I got, the louder the music got and soon I was in a big space with three long catwalks on which girls wearing only g-strings strutted their stuff. Men of varying ages sat or stood around these stages, gazing up at the girls that were lit in several directions by spotlights in different colors. There were also some women among the adoring audience members.
I had memorized the two images George had found for me of Hutchkins and was now scanning the semi-dark area for the man. Hopefully, he was sitting here somewhere, feeding dollar-bills to some gyrating girl. My plan was to pretend I was a bisexual woman who was as horny as Hutchkins seemed to be.
I had almost given up on spotting him somewhere and was heading toward the exit when I finally saw a man descending the stairs who looked just like the image in my head. I hid behind a column as I watched Hutchkins continue into the big club and take a seat at an open table near the first catwalk. A waitress was quickly by his side, taking an order.
I pondered the best approach—should I be bold and ask him if I could join him or simply take a seat at a neighboring table? There was an open one right next to him. Based on all the appreciative looks and whistles I’d gotten since I’d arrived, I opted to be bold. Adjusting my dress, I sauntered over to his small table.
Putting a hand on the chair at the other side of his table, I leaned toward him, making sure he got a good view of my cleavage that I had enhanced by wearing a push-up bra. Ariel had huge boobs, so I had figured it was wise to wear something that showed off my own assets, in addition to make them look extra big.
