False Prophet. Faye Kellerman

      6

      A split second to decide how to handle it. Act surprised, resigned, indignant or cooperative or maybe even friendly. No, scratch friendly. Cops were wary of anyone too congenial. If she was good—inquisitive like Kelley had said—she’d probably heard his name paged over the loud speaker and would wonder what that was all about. Ness knew he could probably pull off playing dumb, but now was not the time to audition for the Oscar. Keep it simple and keep her off guard. At least Kelley’s call had prepared him. No weak knees or sweaty hands.

      “Hi,” Ness said. “I’m assuming you’re the detective since you’re not dressed for yoga.”

      Marge paused a moment, surprised he knew who she was, surprised at how smooth he was around her. Most people were jumpy around cops. “Did you just talk to your sister?”

      “Yeah. She’s totally freaked out, wasn’t making a lot of sense to tell you the truth. Something about Lilah being attacked and you’re here looking into it? Whenever Kelley gets freaked, she calls big brother. What happened?”

      “You’ve got some time to talk?”

      “Now?”

      “Yes, now.”

      “I’ve got ’bout half an hour before my next class.” Ness swallowed hard, stepped back inside the Jazzarena, and gently placed his camcorder onto a mat. “I’m all dehydrated. You mind if I grab a cup of broth? We can talk in here. Hard to find privacy around this place.”

      “Your sister tells me you live on the premises. We can talk in your place.”

      “Nah, too far of a walk. I’ll be back in a jiff. Hang tight.”

      He was out the door before Marge could protest. She paced around the gym. Against the side wall, there were a pile of fresh towels, a large wicker basket filled with dirty towels, and stacked blue exercise mats. In front of the mirrors was a CD player resting on the floor. With no chairs available, Marge leaned against the ballet barre.

      Physically, Mike Ness wasn’t at all what Marge had expected. She’d figured on a muscle man and wasn’t prepared for someone on the slight side. He was sort of androgynous-looking, actually, except for the well-trimmed two-day stubble that covered his face. Shiny black hair that fell over big blue eyes. Truth be told he was almost as pretty as his sister. Though his muscles weren’t over-inflated, they had been worked on. He had the wiry kind of definition in his biceps and calves.

      He came back a moment later, carrying two steaming cups, and kicked the door shut with his foot. If the guy was guilty of anything, good old sister Kelley had taken away the key element of surprise.

      “I brought an extra cup for you, Detective.”

      “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

      Still holding the cups, Ness sat down cross-legged without spilling a drop. “I don’t know but I’d imagine there’s a certain amount of tension in your job. The broth is a great stress reducer. And it’s low-calorie.”

      Marge sat next to him, pulled out her notebook. “I’m not on a diet.”

      “Take it anyway. It won’t kill you.” Ness’s lips unfolded in a half smile. “Poor choice of words, I guess.”

      Marge returned his expression with a half smile of her own. “Drink mine for me, bro. I’ve already tanked up on guava juice.”

      Ness broke into unexpected laughter. “I detect sarcasm. You know that cynicism is a prime toxin builder, Detective.”

      “So is assault.”

      Ness grew serious. “What happened to Lilah last night?”

      “She was attacked.”

      “Was she raped?”

      “A full report hasn’t been filed yet. Do you know anything about it?”

      “Me? Not a clue.”

      Marge studied his face. There was some concern but he wasn’t overdoing it. Good eye contact. Didn’t seem real fidgety. Either he wasn’t worried about his ass or he was a top-notch psychopath. “How do you get along with Lilah?”

      “I adore her.” He smiled slowly. “As a friend. She’s the greatest boss I’ve ever had. Lets me make my own hours, great about giving me time off. The pay here isn’t great, I’ve gotta be honest. But when you factor in the perks—free room and board—the paycheck isn’t as small as it looks on paper. This isn’t the job I want to do all my life, but it’s a great pit stop.”

      Mr. Sincere.

      Marge asked, “How long have you worked for her?”

      “I came on about eight months ago.” Ness finished one cup of broth, crunched the paper cup in his hand. “My sister brought me over, actually. She’s worked here close to two years and loves her job. Kelley’s a great kid, but she worries too much about me. I was unemployed about a year ago. Didn’t bother me, but it drove her crazy. She talked me into coming here. More like dragged me over. But I’m not sorry. Like I said, the position is okay until I figure out what I want to do.”

      “What do you want to do?”

      “I sure as hell wouldn’t mind owning a place like this,” Ness said, wistfully. “But since that doesn’t seem likely in the future, I’d like to have enough clients to support myself as a personal trainer. You build up lots of contacts here. I’ve already filled up Tuesday and Saturday evenings with people. Lilah’s really good about that, she gives me the time off. But as of this moment I don’t have enough of a client load—enough income—to make ends meet on my own.”

      “Did you meet your clients at the spa?”

      “Sure, most of them. A few of the recent ones are referrals. See, that’s how the ball gets rolling.”

      “Lilah doesn’t mind you stealing business?”

      “I don’t steal business—”

      “If you train women at home, who needs the spa?”

      Ness slowly took a sip of his second cup of broth. “It doesn’t work that way, Detective. The spa and I are synergistic. We feed off of each other. Look around. Most of the women you see here are in terrific shape. They come here for peace and quiet and want a safe environment to relax where they won’t gain weight. Sure we have some men here—mostly husbands whose wives asked them along—but the majority of our clientele is female. They can hang out without feeling that some guy is going to hit on them.”

      “That how Ms. Betham felt?”

      “I knew you were going to bring that up,” Ness said. “You ever meet Miz Betham?”

      “No.”

      “She’s around fifty and has a face like a pineapple. Now I have nothing against ugly people except when they give me troubles. I don’t know what her problem is, but she isn’t going to bring me down. I hope the garbage she’s saying isn’t giving you funny ideas about me. I don’t hit on women. And I certainly wouldn’t ever do anything to Lilah. You haven’t told me too much about that.”

      “Lilah will be okay,” Marge said. “If she wants to tell you about it in detail, I’m sure she will.”

      “She know who attacked her?”

      Marge was silent.

      “Probably not,” Ness said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be questioning me. Ask me anything you want. I’ll do anything to help you find the bastard who hurt her.”

      “You like her a lot.”

      “I told you, I adore her.”

      “But just as a friend.”

      “Yep.”

      “Was