Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) (9 page)

The afternoon passed slowly until I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was almost five-thirty. Going by the silence coming down the line, I guessed Bankler had already gone home. I switched the equipment off and drove back to the office.

I found Gina sitting on the couch in the reception area, her gym bag at her feet. She was chatting with Faith and looked round when I entered.

"Faith's coming to kickboxing tonight," she said.

Faith gave me an apologetic shrug. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," I said. "I'm glad you're coming. Good for you." I cringed on the inside. Sheesh, I sounded like a cross between a therapist and a cheerleader. Totally fake. It was just that I couldn't imagine the mousy, near-invisible woman having the balls to kick anyone's ass. I gave her points for having a go though.

"You've got spare sweatpants here, don't you, Cat?" Gina said, picking up her bag.

"In my office. Let me get my stuff and say goodbye to Will."

"He's not here," Faith said.

"Oh. Right." I was about to ask her where he'd gone, how long ago he'd left, but stopped myself. I wasn't Will's keeper any more than he was mine. We both had a life outside of work and each other.

Scrap that. I had a life,
he
didn't. He was a workaholic, even when we were together. He was usually in the office till late and on weekends, and if he wasn't it was because he was with me or a client. Which answered my question. He must be giving Slim a face-to-face report, or working on another case.

I grabbed my bag and locked the office door. Kickboxing was held at the gym down the road. On a weeknight it was filled with city workers stopping off for a workout before heading home. Most already had great bodies and knew it. The women wore low-cut tops and tight sweats, but it was the men who pranced around like they were made in the image of Adonis. I even spotted one guy kissing his bicep after lifting weights.

There's something unsexy and uncool about men who go to gyms. It's the poser, narcissistic attitude they have that makes me want to gag. Give me a real man like Will or Scarface any day. Neither would be caught dead in a gym. Their hardness was all natural.

We changed in the locker room and made our way to the hall at the back of the building. My spare sweatpants and top were a little too big on Faith, but not to the point where they'd fall off her. Once in the hall, I put on my gloves and greeted the instructor, Ben. Ben was a hottie, which was how I'd managed to get Gina to come to class with me. After breaking up with her computer programmer, she'd said she needed some mindless sex with a hot guy. When Ben had walked past her shop on his way to the gym on his first day of work, she picked him to be her next plaything. She was still trying to get him into her bed after two weeks. I think the effort was starting to frustrate her. Gina usually didn't have to work so hard.

I wanted to do kickboxing because I needed to learn some self-defense moves. After getting beaten up, held captive, and almost raped, I knew it was time to be proactive about my safety. Will was in total agreement. He even offered to show me some moves, but I thought it best to take classes. Working out with Will would only end up in sex after five minutes, and I had to be serious or I'd never feel confident in a scary situation.

Ben made us do some warm-up stretches and a light jog around the mat. Then we paired up. Since Faith was new and my co-worker, I felt some responsibility toward her, so I paired up with her and Gina found another partner.

"You hold the pads first," I told her. "I'll show you what to do, then we swap when Ben says. Got it?"

She nodded. I punched the pads until my shoulders screamed in pain then I kept punching until Ben finally called "Swap!"

Thank God. Sweat pooled in uncomfortable places and my arms already ached. I was going to be in pain tomorrow. I took the pads from Faith and glanced at Gina as I put them on. Somehow she managed to look totally sexy despite breathing heavily. She eyed Ben as he walked around the room. He didn't once look at her, except when he gave her instructions. Maybe he was gay. Dressed in the tight sweatpants and with bouncing breasts barely contained by her sports bra, even the straight women looked at Gina.

I held the pads up for Faith. She jabbed with her left then hit with her right. Hard.

"Good one," I said and gave her an encouraging smile. "Keep going like that and you'll knock me to the floor."

She stepped back a little and hopped on her toes, keeping her guard up, something that I forgot to do in between punches. Then she stepped in, focused on the pads and hit again, harder. And again. Each punch slammed into the center of the pads, over and over. She didn't pause, didn't slow down, and kept her guard up the entire time. When Ben called "Time," I found I was standing at the edge of the matt. Faith had forced me back a little more with each punch.

"You've done this before," Ben said, nodding his approval at Faith. "Where did you learn?"

"I…" Faith's eyes widened and she began to shake. I half expected her to run out of the gym, but instead she took the pads off me and put them on. "Nowhere you'd know." She dipped her head and her hair fell over her eyes.

"I'm glad you decided to switch gyms. Do me a favor and make Cat work hard." He flashed me a grin and walked off. "Two punches and two knees!" he shouted above the pumping music. "Come on, everyone, let's move! Move!"

Faith and I worked our butts off. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow," I said as we headed to the locker room together after the session. Gina hung back, probably to speak to Ben.

"Me too," Faith said. "Especially my arms and shoulders."

"And the front of my thighs."

"Quads. Mine already feel like lead."

It was the most she'd said to me since starting at Knight Investigations, and it felt like a small victory. Who'd have thought we'd bond over kickboxing? "You seem to know what you're talking about," I said. "You must have thought I was an idiot for giving you pointers at the beginning."

She shrugged one shoulder, which I took as a 'yes.'

"How long have you been doing it?"

"A couple of years, but I haven't been to a class in a while."

I fished my towel and soap out of my bag and began to strip off. Faith picked up her clothes and entered a toilet cubicle.

"Where did you learn?" I called out to her.

"At a gym across town."

Why couldn't she have said that to Ben earlier? Was it because she hadn't thought of an answer yet? I got the distinct feeling she was lying, but I had no idea why. It was a harmless question. It wasn't like I was asking her why she was so skittish most of the time, or why Will had employed her.

I got in the shower and had only just turned the water on when Faith called out a goodbye.

"You're going already?"

"I'll shower at home. I haven't got a towel here. Thanks for the clothes. I'll wash them and give them back to you tomorrow."

"Wait! Faith! Let Gina and me walk you back to your car."

No answer. She must have left already. Well, huh.

I finished my shower and dried off. Gina took a few minutes longer, and when she finished, we walked out together to our parked cars. I told her what Faith had said and how I suspected she'd been lying. "She also wouldn't wait for us to walk her back to her car. Don't you think that's strange in this suburb at this time of day?"

"She doesn't have a car. She catches the bus. It stops right out front of the gym. Didn't you know?" She sounded sullen, like something was bothering her. Gina was easy to read, because she was usually always happy. Any other emotion wasn't natural on her.

"Gina, what's up?"

"Nothing."

We reached my car, and I stopped her from walking off to hers with a hand on her arm. "Something's wrong and I know it's got to do with Ben."

"What makes you think that?"

"You were fine going into kickboxing and now you're pissed off at something. Did you ask him out and he said no?"

"No." She pouted. "I don't like him. He's not my type at all."

Yeah, right. "Come on, Gina. Don't make me go and ask him."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"So tell me."

She sighed. "It's just that I heard what he said to Faith."

"What's that?"

"'Make Cat work hard.'" She threw up her hands. "As if
I
don't make you work."

I didn't think it was a good time to tell her she didn't. She held the pads limply whereas Faith pushed back, offering resistance. "You make me work
very
hard, Gina. Don't worry about Ben. Just forget about him."

"Can we forget about him over a drink tonight?"

"Sure. Mind if I ask my friend Jenny along?"

"She's not a suspect in that man's murder, is she?"

"Of course not." I laughed. "There's a bar at their hotel, the Carleton. Meet us there at eight."

I waited until she was safely in her car, then I drove off too. At home, I ate cheese on toast for dinner and called Jenny to ask her to join us for a drink, then I called Will to tell him I wouldn't be over.

"That's okay, I've got a ton of work to do," he said. "Where are you going?"

"I'm having a drink with Gina and Jenny at the Carleton's bar."

"I'll miss you."

I smiled into the phone. "I'll miss you too."

"And Cat?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting me know where you're going to be for once."

***

"You can't tell them." Jenny's hushed voice shook with desperation. "They'll think I killed him."

"They'll find out," I said, "and then it'll look worse for you."

"They might not."

We sat in the dimly lit corner of the bar on the ground floor of the Carleton Hotel. It was a small, exclusive place catering to the wealthy guests who wanted to conduct their rendezvous out of the public eye. Privacy came in the form of twenty dollar cocktails. Thank goodness Jenny was putting it on the Play Group account. Gina was up to her third Mojito, but I was pacing myself.

"I know the investigating detectives," I told them. "One of them is good. You don't want to cross him."

Gina sipped and nodded. "Scarface. He's hot."

"He interviewed me earlier." Jenny shuddered. "He's creepy."

That about summed Scarface up. He was either hot or scary, depending on whether he was on your side or not. I was keen to keep on his good side.

"You should tell him about Frank scamming you," I told her. "Trust me, he'll be pissed if you don't and he finds out later. And he will find out. He's good at his job."

"Scamming is a strong word," Jenny said. She sipped her piña colada and didn't meet my eyes.

"Uh, yeah, and that's what Frank did to you."

"You don't know that for sure."

"No-o, but a little more investigation will probably prove it. Just give me time."

"Cat's instincts are awesome," Gina said. "Really, really awesome. You should trust her."

Jenny broke into a grin. "From what I remember, Cat's instincts are shit. She turned down a major part in
Revenge,
because she thought it would flop."

"I expected it to be another
Lost
."

"And she said no to
Game of Thrones
when she got a callback."

"They wanted full frontal nudity! Nobody gets to see my bits until they've paid for at least one dinner."

Gina snorted. "Your price gone up?"

I wanted to assure Jenny that my instincts had improved since then, but in truth, they hadn't. If my first case had been any indication, I liked the guilty people and distrusted the innocent ones. Not that I'd tell Jenny that.

She drained her cocktail glass and cradled it in her hands. Her eyes glazed over as she stared into space. "Is it wrong to be glad he's dead?"

I touched her knee. "No. Being dead doesn't make him any less of an asshole. He didn't do right by you—"

"He didn't do right by
Angel
!"

"Yeah, I noticed he was less than kind to her too."

"She deserved better."

"Why didn't she divorce him if he was so horrible?"

Jenny looked at me like I was stupid. "Because he would have fired her. She loves Play Group. It's her whole life. She loves the kids, the performing, and she has great ideas too. Most of the songs are hers. Frank may have owned us, but Angel is our heart. We can go on without Frank, but not without her."

I just had a thought, and not a very pleasant one, especially where Angel was concerned. "Who owns the group now that he's dead?"

Jenny shrugged. "I guess she does."

I opened my mouth to say it didn't look good for Angel when a commotion outside the bar saved me from putting my foot in it. Voices spoke over the top of one another, many of them calling out Angel's name. It was difficult to catch anything else above the wall of noise.

Jenny set down her glass and rose. "What's going on?" She made her way to the double glass doors that led to the foyer. "Angel?"

Gina and I came up behind her and watched the crowd of photographers moving like a tide through the foyer. They surged and receded, holding their cameras up high, angling them into the middle of the throng. Outside, TV crews mingled and jostled one another to get the best view. It was like watching a pack of hounds on leashes, waiting for the hunt master's horn to signal their release. Somehow they'd caught the scent of blood and arrived in time to capture their favorite sport on film. There's nothing like a fallen celebrity to sell the news.

"Angel, did you do it?" I heard someone shout. It was a question that was repeated over and over, along with, "Mrs. Karvea, did you kill your husband?"

"Angel?" Jenny said. She was shaking, her face white.

I caught her arm as she stepped forward. "Don't go out there," I said in her ear. "You'll only make it worse for her."

A hotel porter opened the glass front door. The gap was only wide enough to allow a few people through at a time. That's when I saw two uniformed police officers escorting a small blonde figure between them. Angel Karvea. Her head was bowed, her hands cuffed behind her back.