Hell Is Burning

by Morgan Kelley

  He laughed. “Baby, you’re my only tartlet.”

  Emma started laughing. “I think that’s a compliment, but I’m not really sure. How do you want to do this?” she asked. “Do you want to be good cop or bad cop when we head in?”

  Greyson leaned over to kiss her. When his large hand held her head in place, refusing to let her go, she had her answer.

  “Bad cop it is.”

  Emma hopped out from behind the wheel and met her husband as they crossed the parking lot. Some of the arriving people were staring, and she didn't doubt they knew why they were there.

  How could they not?

  The case was all over the damn news.

  Inside, they met a man at the counter, and when they asked for the owner, he didn't put up a fight. In fact, he was more than happy to get her.

  That put them on guard. No one was that helpful at this time of the morning.

  After all, this was Vegas.

  As they waited, Emma watched a redhead coming their way. It had to be the boss, because she was greeting everyone on her way there.

  Yeah, and she looked like she didn't work out a day in her life. A plastic surgeon had been the one sweating up a storm when it came to her body.

  Holding out her hand, she greeted them. “I’m Cara Piedmont. How can I help you?” she asked.

  Emma noticed the fake smile didn't even slip. What did slip was that she was now ogling Greyson. While Emma got why it was happening, she didn't have to like it.

  “We’re here to talk about the recent murders that have been on the news,” Emma stated, driving the interview.

  “Oh, murders?”

  She pointed up at the TV right above them replaying the crime scene from that morning. “Yeah, the murders.”

  Greyson lifted a brow. Apparently, he wasn’t going to be the bad cop after all. Emma was already visibly irritated.

  He was going to enjoy watching this go down.

  “Yes, I remember now.”

  Emma pushed on. “You had three women who worked out here die. What can you tell me about them?”

  The woman hesitated. “I’m not really supposed to…” When she looked at Greyson, batting her eyelashes, Emma had just about enough.

  “Oh, okay, well how about I arrest you on impeding an investigation? Then you can sit in the tank with the killers, rapists, and hookers until you feel like talking. Maybe that will shake loose your willingness to help a girl out.”

  Greyson wanted to smile. He loved watching his wife work.

  “I didn't mean…”

  “Shirley Golden was the first victim. Spill everything you know, or I’ll be seeing you at the LVPD, and I’ll shut this place down for weeks.”

  That was what got her.

  “She was a loner. Honestly, she wasn’t into the ‘Soul’ part of the business. She and her partner, I believe she was a lesbian, liked to lift weights. They’d come in almost every night and keep to themselves. She didn't take any classes here.”

  “Was anyone bothering her?”

  The woman shook her head. “Are you kidding me? Her girlfriend could kick half the men’s asses in this place. No one even said boo to her.”

  Well, that was good to know.

  Cara focused on Greyson. “Do you work out?”

  He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he opted to be the good cop. “I do, yes.”

  “I can tell.”

  It was when she touched his arm that Emma nearly grabbed her head and beat it off the wall. This floosy reminded her of Lana Dumas, and how she’d try to break Emma by flirting with Greyson right in front of her.

  Before he could say anything, Emma was handling it. “Know what I can tell?”

  Cara glanced over at her. “What?”

  “That you have no self-preservation. All of Vegas knows who his wife is,” she began, pointing at herself, “and few have the guts to flirt with him while his wife is standing right here. Want to know why?”

  The woman watched her.

  Emma pulled back her blazer and showed the woman her gun. “I haven’t slept in days, I'm wading around in dead women, and I have an attitude problem when women try to get into his boxers. You better hope I don’t accidentally discharge my weapon into your silicone laden body. It might cause a toxic spill.”

  She closed her mouth.

  “The last woman that hit on him ended up in the morgue.” Granted, she didn't kill Lana Dumas, but this woman didn't need to know that.

  Greyson winked at his wife.

  “Now, how about you tell me about the other two women? I know he’s a distraction in all his rich glory, but I’m sure you can muster a few minutes without drooling on his arm.”

  “Um...okay.”

  Emma continued, “Blanca Reilly.”

  “Oh, she was a winner. We had nothing but issues with her while she was a member. I personally refunded her membership fees, and asked her to leave my establishment.”

  That was news to them. Granted, they knew she didn't go there anymore, and they’d tracked her refund, but the issues part was a possible lead. “Why?”

  “She was always flirting with the male patrons.”

  Emma laughed. “Yeah, I haven’t seen that yet today. It seems so odd.”

  The woman bristled, but didn't say anything in her defense. “She was causing a commotion with a man named Fred Dyson.”

  Greyson transmitted the name back to Curtis so he could begin running him.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “All that I could get from them, as they were having a fight in the middle of the gym, was that she slept with him a few times, and then called it off. He wasn’t happy when she told him she was getting married.”

  Well, crazy just got crazier.

  “I told him to leave and not to come back too. This is a place of business. Flirt yes, but don’t bring your dirty laundry here. This isn't social media. I don’t want to hear who you slept with or if your boyfriend left you. Most people come here to work out.”

  “Was she the only woman he hit on?”

  Cara shook her head. “No he was a serial fornicator. We have this one patron who is pretty famous in Vegas. Well, not as famous as you. Would you like to join? I could…”

  Emma stopped her. “We have a private gym, so stop trying to sell us a membership.”

  “I could comp you if you let people take your pictures while you’re here.”

  She was about to tear into the woman when Greyson took over.

  “We’re not animals in the zoo. My wife and I have a private life, and would like to keep it that way. So, the answer is an emphatic no.”

  The woman gave up. “Anyway, he was hitting on Carrie Corwell. I don’t know if you know her but…”

  “Yes, we know her.”

  This was interesting. They had the next victim’s name come up without them even mentioning she was on her way to the morgue.

  Well, they’d save that for last.

  “What about this man?” Greyson asked, pulling up a work picture of Noah Smith. “Have you ever noticed him floating around? Maybe he was staring in the windows and checking people out?”

  She shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “How about this woman?” Emma asked, pulling up Brynn’s work photo. They didn't have the place in Brynn’s financials, but it was worth the shot. There was always that chance that there weren’t two killers.

  Or she hoped.

  “Have you ever seen her in here?”

  Cara studied it, but she didn't look like she recognized the woman. “I might be the wrong person to ask. My assistant, James Bleu, he does all the sign-ups. You should ask him.”

  “Where’s he at?” Greyson asked.

  “He’s at the front desk. You met him on your way in. If you want gossip, he works the juice bar. He’s like a bartender. People talk a lot.”

  They would do that.

  “How about Kelly Granger?” Emma once more showed the woman the picture.
<
br />   “Oh, this is so heart breaking. She was an absolute sweetheart. She’d take all the new people under her wing when they first came here. She was dating the yoga instructor, and together, they got the newbies acquainted with our classes. I’m going to miss her.”

  “She was dating Liam Eckerly, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Is he at work today?” Greyson asked.

  “NO WAY! Why would he be? He’s at home mourning the loss of his girlfriend. They were tight. He’s a mess.”

  “So you haven’t seen him since? He wasn’t here yesterday by any chance, was he?”

  She thought about it. “Well, actually, he was.”

  That had their attention.

  “He came in last night to clean out Kelly’s locker. We watched him go in, and when he came out, he was carrying a box and crying. He didn't stop to say anything. Liam just left. We didn't stop him, since it’s awkward when someone dies.”

  “What time?”

  She thought about it.

  “Around six thirty last night, I guess. I was getting ready to head home, but waited until he left. I didn't want to say anything to upset him even more.”

  Emma glanced over at her husband. Their last victim died around nine. That gave him plenty of time to get her things, play grieving partner, and then wait for Carrie Corwell to leave the gym.

  Interesting.

  “I hope this is over soon,” Cara said. “It makes it hard for the patrons to enjoy themselves here when they believe a killer is around.”

  “Yeah, I have bad news,” Emma began.

  “What?”

  “It’s not over. We had another victim last night.”

  She gasped. “Who?”

  “Carrie Corwell.”

  The woman stared openmouthed. “You have to be shitting me! She was our promo girl. We got our business because she worked out here. This sucks!”

  They stared at her, not saying a word. The woman must have realized how cold that sounded because she tried to cover her faux pas with an explanation.

  “I just meant…”

  “Spare us, okay? We get it. You lost the goose that shit out the patrons. Blah. Blah. Blah.”

  Greyson had to cover a laugh with a cough. When Emma was this tired, she would spit out just about anything that came to mind.

  Here was the proof.

  “Was anyone bothering her?”

  “No! Everyone loved her. The men followed her around like she was a goddess. They all wanted to work out with her, but she was into Yoga and keeping her body fit.”

  “So, she knew Liam Eckerly?”

  She nodded. “He taught her classes. She never missed one. She, Kelly, and Liam were close. They had juice together, went next door to the bakery for coffee, and hung out in their spare time.”

  Interesting.

  “Thank you for your help,” Greyson stated. “We’re going to go talk to your front desk guy. We appreciate your time.”

  The woman hurried off.

  “Well, we have some suspects popping up now,” Emma stated.

  “I just want to tell you that you being a badass is so damn sexy. I want to toss you over my shoulder, take you home, and have a full day of sex.”

  She patted him on the jean clad ass. “As soon as this is over, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  He grinned. “Deal.”

  As they headed toward the desk, the man behind the counter was looking a little nervous. It was apparent that he recognized them.

  At least he wasn’t living under a rock.

  “Can you tell us about the women who were killed?” Emma asked.

  “I don’t know what you heard, but I don’t know anything.”

  “We meant about the gym. Has anyone been bothering them? Has anyone been hitting on them? Or have they had any issues?”

  He shook his head. “Oh! No, they didn't. I know with Blanca, it’s been quiet since she’s been in. She had complaints against her. The woman got busted for having sex on the weight bench. She jumped some lifter, and he gave her a good time.”

  Emma scrunched up her nose. “Ewww.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty gnarly. They were going at it like bunnies. People were taking pictures. I’m sure it’s on the internet.”

  Greyson had more proof that these places were full of germs. He used the hand sanitizer sitting on the desk--just in case.

  “How about Kelly Granger and Carrie Corwell? Who did they hang out with, James?”

  The man looked around. “They were pretty chummy with Laura Mills.” When he glanced out the window, he pointed at a blonde getting into a Mercedes. “She doesn’t drive. Her husband picks her up when the ladies can’t drive her home.”

  Emma knew she needed to move, or they were going to have to head to the woman’s house. “I have this, Grey.”

  She hustled off, and he watched. There was something making him uneasy about Emma heading outside alone. They had just been shot at yesterday and the shooter was at large. All he could hope was Dimitri was doing his job--wherever he was.

  “Is there anything else I can help with?” he asked Greyson, getting his attention.

  “Yeah, what about Fred Dyson?”

  “He was a douchebag. He liked to jump as many women as he could. He believes himself to be the hottest man here. He’s the one Blanca was riding on the weight bench. I wanted to call the cops, but Cara, bless her sweet soul, she didn't want to get them in trouble. She just wanted them out of her place.”

  Yeah, he bet.

  “Have you seen him around lately?” Greyson asked, still focused on his wife.

  “Actually, I see him all the time. From this spot, I can see out the front windows. He’s always stopping in at the bakery next door. They’re actually a café too. They have the best donuts, but don’t tell Cara I said that. She thinks the body is a temple.”

  Greyson focused on him. “Do all the patrons head there?”

  He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “A lot do, but they try to be sneaky. They come in here, sweat off an hour worth of calories, and then carb load next door. I once went in for coffee and saw half the Yoga class binging on cake. It was a free for all.”

  Greyson made notes, and sent them back to Curtis. Maybe the bakery was where the killer sat, waiting for the people to come out.

  Could they be off with their lunatic’s hunting grounds?

  “Thank you for your help, James,” he said, trying not to touch anything. He could hear the germs calling to him, and Greyson didn't want to catch anything communicable.

  “No problem! If you want a comp membership…”

  “No thank you.” Greyson wasn’t even sure what he said. He was too busy focusing on Emma.

  In case Dimitri screwed up, he would take care of his woman.

  It was his job.

  She was fast enough to catch them as they were pulling away. When she pulled her badge, the man behind the wheel stopped. The passenger side window went down.

  “Officer, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s detective, and I need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “I can’t imagine why, but okay,” she stated.

  “Are you Laura Mills?” she asked.

  “Yes, and this is my husband Henry. Are we in some kind of trouble, Detective?”

  Then it must have hit her.

  “Oh, you’re that murder cop. This has to be about the women who were killed from the gym!”

  Henry patted her arm. “It’s okay, babe.”

  Emma nodded. “That’s right. I’m working the investigation on the deaths of Kelly Granger and Carrie Corwell.”

  They both gasped.

  “Carrie too?” Henry asked. “Jesus!”

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “What is this world coming to?” she asked, taking Henry’s hand in hers. “They were my friends. We’d have coffee together, and we’d take shopping trips.”

  Emma offered the woman her sympathy. “Was anyone bo
thering them, Mrs. Mills?”

  She thought about it.

  “Carrie said that some guy was hitting on her,” Henry offered before his wife spoke up. “The last time I saw her with my wife, she brushed it off like it didn't matter, but I think it did.”

  “Who?” Emma asked, making notes.

  He tried to think about it. “She didn't say, but she did say he went to the gym. That’s all I know. I’m sorry.”

  Emma was glad to get that. They had a couple suspects now, and she could use this to her advantage.

  “Is Carrie really dead?” Laura asked.

  Emma nodded. “I’m sorry. I know you three were close.”

  “We were. At first, I totally thought she’d be a bitch. You know, because she was famous, but she wasn’t. Carrie was sweet, and so was Kelly. She was so happy to be in a relationship.”

  “With Liam, right?”

  She nodded.

  “The women love his class,” Henry stated. “My wife makes me cart her ass down here so she can be at one with herself,” he added, touching her cheek.

  Laura laughed. “A girl needs silence.”

  “What can you tell me about Liam?”

  “He loves what he does. The man eats, sleeps, and breathes yoga. He swears it helps in the sex department.”

  Henry laughed. “I’m a little more objective, Detective. Honestly, he’s a total fruit loop. He just likes to check out the women in yoga pants. I once sat at the juice bar waiting for my wife and saw how much he likes his class. He was totally checking out every ass he could.”

  She slapped her husband. “You’re just jealous.”

  He rolled his eyes and grinned. “Not quite. I have my wife, he doesn’t.”

  Laura blushed.

  “Anyway, they’d go into that downward dog pose, and he’d help them keep their backs straight--only his hands would linger. I’m a man. I can tell the difference. There’s no reason for him to run his hand over anyone’s ass.”

  “Henry!”

  “Well, there’s not. I’m not paying him to feel up my wife. I can do that all on my own.”

  Emma was getting great information. “Has he ever been inappropriate with you?”

  “Of course not!” While she shook her head, Emma saw the spark of worry. The woman didn't want to talk about it with her husband right there.