Killer Physique

by G. A. McKevett

  “He was in New York City before, while, and after Jason died,” Tammy said with one hand against her left ribs.

  “He was conducting workshops at the weeklong Sons of Zeus Bodybuilding Competition that’s held there every year,” John said, holding up his tablet so Savannah and Dirk could see the cavalcade of burgeoning bodies flipping by in a slideshow.

  “And all of his club lackies were there, too,” Ryan told them. “So he didn’t get one of them to do it.”

  “This is documented?” Savannah asked, hoping against hope.

  Tammy nodded, then groaned at the pain it cost her. “Unfortunately, yes. We were just watching the footage of him and his boys on top of the Empire State Building, pounding their chests like a bunch of idiotic, wannabe King Kongs.”

  Savannah felt like one of those giant, inflated balloons in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade when it had just had its plug pulled.

  She was sinking fast.

  “We’re back at square one, then, with Jason’s case,” she said. “And I was just so sure it was that jackass Fabio.”

  “You’re not exactly at square one,” Dora said, toying with her disposable cup. “Wait till you hear what your Moonlight Magnolia team here found out on those expensive phone-computer things of theirs.”

  Both Savannah and Dirk brightened. “Oh?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” Savannah said. “When we walked in, I heard you say something about a restraining order.”

  “First things first,” Ryan told her. “And here’s number one on the list of things we’ve uncovered—Alanna wasn’t the only woman Thomas was jealous of. According to some e-mails we dug up, Thomas accused Jason of breaking up a marriage. Apparently, an old girlfriend of Jason’s was getting a divorce, and Thomas thought it was because she’d been unfaithful to her husband with Jason.”

  Dirk shrugged. “As juicy as that may be, it doesn’t prove anything. Thomas thought Jason was messing around with everybody.”

  “True,” John said, “but this couple is getting a divorce, and as recently as yesterday, the wife obtained an order of protection against him. Apparently the husband’s been threatening her.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Savannah replied, “but it’s hardly evidence in our case.”

  Tammy piped up. “You know them.”

  Savannah raised one eyebrow. “We do?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Leland Porter.”

  Savannah’s breath caught in her throat. “Really?” she asked, as the first puzzle piece clicked into place. “Jason had an affair with his old friend’s wife?”

  “Thomas and Leland thought so,” Ryan said. “And Porter’s wife and Jason were old friends, too. He’d known them both for years.”

  “Okay,” Dirk said, “that gives Leland a motive. But how would he get his hands on that Lido-Morphone stuff to spike the patches. It’s a Class A drug. You can’t just pick that up at the neighborhood pharmacy. And he’s not in the medical field.”

  Tammy turned to Dora. “Nurse Jones, do you have any theories about that?”

  Dora thought it over, then said, “Other than as a pain reliever in a gel-patch form, Lido-Morphone is mostly used in outpatient surgeries. It’s a good sedative. Keeps the patient calm and still during the procedure. Plastic surgeons like it.”

  “Plastic surgeons, huh?” Richard asked. “Does Porter have any connections to doctors or surgeons?”

  Savannah flashed back on the bandages she had seen under Leland’s tee-shirt. She turned to Dora. “What kind of surgery would a man have on his nipples?”

  Everyone looked at Savannah as if she were crazy.

  “His nipples?” Richard asked.

  “Yes. Leland had bandages over both of his nipples. In the same place, so I doubt it was from an accident.”

  “Gynecomastia,” Dora said.

  “What?” the others asked.

  “More commonly known as ‘man boobs.’ It’s an embarrassing condition that’s not all that uncommon in bodybuilding circles. It can be caused by taking anabolic steroids. It’s a simple enough procedure to correct it.”

  “Done in a doctor’s office as an outpatient procedure?” John asked.

  “With Lido-Morphone?” Ryan added.

  Dora replied, “Most certainly.”

  Tammy’s fingers were already flying over the screen of her tablet. “There are two plastic surgeons in Leland’s area who specialize in that procedure. I have their numbers here if you want them.”

  Dirk hurried over to her and jotted the numbers down on the pad he carried in his pocket. A moment later, he had the first doctor’s office on the phone. He identified himself and then said, “In the past month or two, have you noticed any shortages in your medical supplies? Specifically, a Class A drug called Lido-Morphone?”

  His eyes gleamed as he turned to the others, who were holding their breath, and gave them a thumbs-up. “You have. Okay. Would you happen to know the exact date when that drug went missing?”

  He scribbled down the date, still smiling. “And one more question. I wouldn’t ask this ordinarily, but I’m investigating a murder. So please don’t make me have to get a subpoena, okay?” He drew a deep breath. “The day that medicine went missing, did you happen to perform a breast reduction on a patient named Leland Porter?”

  He, and they, waited for what seemed a stretch in Purgatory as the office assistant checked her records. Finally, she returned and spoke to him.

  “Of course not. This is strictly between you and me. I’ll get the subpoena and make it all legal down the line. This is just for investigation purposes.” He paused, listened. “Okay, thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.”

  He turned off his phone and stood there, saying nothing, his face blank.

  Savannah reached over and thumped him on the shoulder. “Well?”

  “Leland Porter had his procedure done there. Ten days ago. And that just happens to be the same day the drug went missing.”

  The room erupted in cheers.

  A moment later, a nurse charged into the room, a stern look on her face. “Okay, that’s it!” she said. “I told you people that you weren’t allowed to have this many in this room at one time. And you certainly can’t make a disturbance like that.”

  Dora stood and, along with the other nurse, started to shoo them out. “Go,” she said. “I’ll stay here with Tammy. The rest of you go home and get some rest.”

  But when she tried to shove Waycross out, he wouldn’t budge. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “I’m gonna stay here with my girl, and you’re gonna go home with the rest of ’em. You’ve done enough, Nurse Jones. Now it’s my turn.”

  As Savannah drove the Mustang down Leland’s tree-lined street in Rosado yet again, she said to Dirk and Richard, “We’ve been here so much lately, it’s starting to feel like home.”

  Dirk, who had given his father the front passenger seat, spoke up from the rear. “Hopefully, this’ll be our last trip out here. The uniforms say he’s there. They’re waiting for us halfway down the block.”

  Out of an abundance of caution and kindness, Savannah decided not to point out this new trend of Dirk’s to have backup along when they arrested one of these bodybuilders.

  She had heard a lot of “regular” guys talk about how useless all those muscles were, how slow and muscle-bound those ripped dudes were. But she noticed that most fellas, including her own, had a healthy respect for bodybuilders and didn’t want to tangle with them if they could avoid it.

  Hence, the squad car that was waiting for them when they arrived on Leland Porter’s block.

  Savannah pulled in behind them, and everyone bailed out of their vehicles and walked the half block to Leland’s house.

  “I’d like you guys to wait here for us,” Dirk told the patrolmen when they reached the sidewalk in front of the house. “Keep sharp and come in if we call you. We want to try to talk to him first.”

  Richard said, “I’ll wait, too. But we’re here if you
need us.”

  “Great. Thanks,” Dirk said, as he nodded toward Savannah, and they started up the driveway, heading for the front porch.

  Savannah kept an eye on the living room curtains as they started toward the door. But they had gone only a couple of steps when Dirk said, “Hey, listen. Do you hear that?”

  She did hear it. The sound of an automobile running. “Yes, it’s a car. So?”

  “It’s coming from the garage.”

  It took her two seconds to realize why he was alarmed. They both started running toward the building in the back. The patrolmen and Richard followed close behind.

  She smelled it even before they reached the garage—the strong, pungent odor of vehicle exhaust fumes.

  But she knew that the real killer inside that garage, present in those fumes, was itself odorless. And for all they knew, it had already done its deadly work.

  Dirk reached the building first. He grabbed the garage door, gave it a hard yank, and sent it flying upward.

  There was the Cadillac limousine, shiny and beautiful, its powerful motor idling.

  She could hear the sound of music coming from inside it. Some sort of country rock.

  “Leland!” Savannah yelled. “Le-land!”

  She knew he wouldn’t answer. She could see the garden hose that had been adhered to the exhaust with duct tape, that led around the vehicle and into the rear driver’s side window, which was down about an inch.

  Leland Porter had meant business. If he were still conscious, he didn’t want to be found.

  If he wasn’t conscious anymore, it might not matter if he was found. They could be too late.

  “Try not to breathe!” Dirk shouted to everyone. “Hold your breath as much as you can!”

  Savannah filled her lungs, then rushed in with everyone else.

  Dirk jerked open the limo’s rear door.

  Savannah was relieved to see that it was unlocked. But the moment Dirk opened it, the stench in the garage became far more intense.

  As the fumes billowed out, her eyes burned, and they all began to cough and wheeze as the gasses attacked their respiratory systems.

  Savannah saw past Dirk’s shoulders inside the car, where Leland Porter lay sprawled across the floor of his own limousine, unconscious, his face a hideous and unnatural shade of pinkish red.

  “Get him out,” Dirk yelled, as he, one of the other patrolmen, and Richard jumped inside the limo and grabbed the limp body.

  It was no small feat, dragging him to the door. Savannah and the other cop each seized a leg and pulled with all their might. But Leland Porter was no lightweight.

  She thought he was dead, but when they managed to pull him from the vehicle, his body hit the cement floor with a thud and it seemed to stir him to consciousness.

  “What?” he gasped, looking around him. “What’s going . . . what’re you . . . ?” Like everyone else, he began to cough and gag.

  “Outside,” Dirk shouted. “We’ve all gotta get outta here!”

  Savannah jumped into the front seat of the limo and cut the ignition. Then she joined the others in grabbing Leland’s various limbs and pulling him across the floor toward the door.

  Once they hit the driveway, they continued to drag him until they were all the way to the sidewalk.

  Leland started to thrash around, muttering incoherently. He couldn’t seem to focus, and to make things worse, he began to vomit.

  “Roll him onto his side,” Savannah said, as she knelt and tried to push him over, but she couldn’t budge the big man.

  The others joined in and got him onto his side. After a minute or so, the heaving stopped, and he seemed to be settling down a bit.

  She stood and dusted the dirt off her hands and knees. She saw that Richard was calling 911 and requesting an ambulance.

  Savannah hurried over to Dirk, who was standing next to a tree, leaning with one hand on its bark. His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard.

  “Are you okay, sugar?” she asked him.

  He nodded. “You?”

  “I’m all right.”

  She glanced back at their suspect on the ground and the limo in the garage. “Good catch,” she said. “I never would’ve noticed the sound of that motor running if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

  “You’d have gotten to him, once we didn’t find him in the house.”

  “Maybe, but I’d probably would’ve been too late. He was on his way out.”

  “Yes, he sure was. A couple more minutes . . .”

  “We’d have been calling the coroner’s wagon instead of an ambulance.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dirk’s phone started to ring, playing the theme to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

  “The chief,” they said in unison.

  He answered, grunted, “Yes” and “Okay,” then hung up. He grinned at Savannah as he stuck the phone back in his pocket. “It’s official,” he said.

  “What is?”

  “I caught the case.”

  She laughed. “That’s the chief. Always on top of things.”

  Chapter 27

  As Dirk removed the crank and pulled the aluminum canister out of the bucket, sloshing salted water and ice on the patio, everyone cheered. The homemade ice cream was ready at last!

  Savannah handed him some dishes, and with a little help from Ryan, he began to scoop up generous portions for all those who had waited and taken turns cranking the wonderful stuff until it was finally firm.

  Usually, the get-togethers at Savannah’s house were celebratory. And tonight was no different, as she and Dirk entertained their friends and family.

  Savannah passed the dishes among their guests, Ryan and John, Dora and Richard, Waycross and—yes, the queen of the evening’s festivities, Tammy, who had just been released from the hospital that morning. And as she served each one of them, she realized that, with this group, the line between friend and family was blissfully blurred.

  Some families were created by the mixing of biology. Others by the blending of hearts. And as far as she was concerned, this group was as deliciously blended as this ice cream, made with Granny’s best recipe.

  Once everyone else was served, Dirk handed her a bowl and whispered, “That one’s for you, babe.” She looked down at it and saw that the bowl contained a bit more than the others.

  She glanced around, saw that everyone was distracted, their noses buried in their own bit of heaven. Grabbing the scooper, she added some more to the helping and handed it to him. “Nope. That one has your name on it.”

  Mickey the schnauzer danced at Savannah’s feet, begging for a bite. She laughed and told him, “Yes, yes, I’ll see if I can find a bowl with your name on it, too, you little twerp.”

  Across the patio, on a chaise next to Tammy’s, John raised his dish and said, “Here’s to the strong biceps that cranked this wonderful concoction and to our Tammy, who has returned to us, like the first ray of sunshine after a black and stormy day.”

  “Here, here” were the echoed replies as dishes were raised.

  Tammy blushed, reached down, and pulled the begging Mickey onto her lap. “I’m just happy to be back. I’ve missed you all, and, of course, I’ve missed out on all the best gossip. What’s going on with Leland Porter?”

  “He’s recovering,” Savannah said, taking a seat near Tammy and offering the schnauzer his own small bowl with a spoonful of ice cream in it. “He’ll be able to stand trial. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “He confessed, right?” Tammy asked.

  Dirk sniffed. “He did. It was sorta a moot point, considering the suicide note he’d left behind there in the limo. In the letter he spelled it all out, what he’d done, how, and why.”

  “It was just jealousy, pure and simple,” Ryan said, his voice tight and somewhat bitter. “He couldn’t stand seeing his old friend become wildly successful when he was hitting bottom. His wife says she never did anything inappropriate with Jason, and I believe her. It was all in Leland
’s mind.”

  John nodded in agreement. “He spiked that pain patch, waited there in the hotel until Jason died, and then took it off him. He thought we’d never figure out what he’d done.”

  “And we wouldn’t have,” Richard added, “if Savannah hadn’t had one of those special overnight revelations of hers about the patch.”

  The group fell silent. Then Tammy snickered. And Dirk cleared his throat. Ryan and John laughed outright.

  “Next topic,” Savannah said.

  “Fabio Garzone,” Tammy offered. “Did he have anything to do with Jason’s death?”

  “No,” Savannah told her. “He was afraid Jason was going to expose him for all the illegal builder drugs he was pushing there in his gym. And he’d threatened Jason.”

  “That’s why Jason was jumpy there at the movie, right?” Waycross asked.

  “Yeah,” Dirk said. “Nico told us that Fabio said he’d kill Jason, and Jason believed he might try.”

  “Sad, isn’t it,” John added, “how Jason was afraid of those scoundrels, when it was his own chum out to get him?”

  “That is sad,” Dora said, contributing to the conversation for the first time as she took the last bite of her ice cream. “It’s often those you love the most who hurt you the worst.”

  Tammy gave the older woman a smile and said, “Yes, but I’d like to think that more often, they do you good.”

  As she spoke, the moon slipped from behind a cloud, and its light fell on her face, beautiful and serene, with the bruises all faded. Savannah thought she looked like some fairy creature with moon-silver shimmering in her hair.

  “And sometimes,” Tammy continued, as she looked around, one by one, at each person present, “if you’re really, really lucky—the way I was—those people closest to your heart can even save your life.”

  The next morning at 5:30, Savannah was sitting in her comfy chair with a cup of coffee in her hand, Diamante in her lap, and Mickey the mini-schnauzer on the ottoman at her feet. At that ungodly hour, her chair was as far as she could force herself to venture into the world.

  Heck, even Granny Reid slept in until 5:45.