A Body to die for

okay sign. He ducked back outside.
    Janey smiled sweetly and said, “You’re not supposed to be here. The police are periodically checking the club. Detective Falcone asked that we keep you away for a while.”
    “Jack hasn’t been caught, then,” I said. “Not that you’d turn him in.” We stared at each other for a second. She broke the gaze by putting her foot on the counter. She stretched.
    “I hear you had a talk with Freddie Kruger last night,” she dared.
    “We discussed the finer points of sensual massage.” I leaned forward to see if the upstairs key was hanging from its peg. It was. Ameleth must have returned it.
    “You and Freddie talked about some business matters of mine,” Janey said, her head resting on her kneecap.
    “You mean how you’re the Aerobics Madam?” The elevator dial blinked five, four. It was coming down. I could grab the key and run for the elevator just as the door opened. “Is Ameleth upstairs?” I asked.
    Janey switched legs. “Don’t involve her in my business. She doesn’t know a thing about it.”
    “Nevertheless, I need to talk to her.”
    “She’s not here.” Janey lifted her chin and looked me straight in the eye. “Special discount this week for private detectives who know too much. Six-month membership. Free.” The elevator dial blinked, three, two. Janey was too twisted in her stretching position to try and stop me.
    I said, “You’re pretty funny, Janey. But looks aren’t everything.” The doors opened. I grabbed the key and made a run for it. The mirrored doors closed just as Janey flung herself against them. I fit the key in the hole, thinking briefly of Max, and whizzed to the top floor suite. I wondered why the cops weren’t at the club waiting for Jack. I also wondered how he could get into the suite without a key (unless there was a key I didn’t know about).
    The elevator doors characteristically whooshed open. Jack sat on the white couch, his head in his hands. The leggings I’d given him were ripped at the knees. Tiny dots of blood were congealing around scrapes on his legs. I said, “The cops are coming.” I wondered how he managed to slip into the club during Ergort’s watch.
    He looked up. The expression on his face was grave. “It’s happened again, Wanda.”
    At first, I had no idea what he meant. Then he gestured with his head toward the Jacuzzi room. I swallowed hard and walked toward the door. I heard none of the gurgles of swirling water. I held my breath and stepped inside.
    The lights were on, but at first I didn’t see anything. I had to go farther into the room to peer into the tub. With each step, I saw more of the picture. First, a naked ankle, then a leg (attached), a torso. The body—clothed in a leotard and short shorts. She rested on the bottom of the drained Jacuzzi. Her cheeks were blue and swollen. She’d clearly been beaten. My blood turned to slush. I could feel it thicken and struggle to push through my heart.
    It appeared Leeza Robbins would never step-aerobicize again.
     

Dead Meat
     
     
    I made my second 911 call in as many days. Then I went back to look at Leeza. She lay motionless in the bottom of the tub, her legs bent at the knee to follow the curve of the Jacuzzi. I touched her throat. It felt warm. I checked for a pulse. Faint. She was still alive but not breathing. I climbed over Leeza and into the tub. I gulped down some of my own breath and bent down to give her mouth-to-mouth. I had to do this to Max one time—he didn’t mind.
    Leeza’s mouth was softer and she had no upper lip hair. I sucked wind in and out of her lungs until I felt a nugget of something hit the back of my throat. I swallowed hard. Leeza’s mouth parted slightly and blood trickled from the hole in her gums where her front teeth used to be. I made a mental note to watch for the passage of Leeza’s tooth. Despite the gruesome trickle, at least she seemed to be breathing. I’d never be jealous of her sunny smile again. I sat by the edge of the Jacuzzi and cried.
    For about half-a-second. Then the wheels kicked in. What could have happened? Leeza either (1) walked in on something, (2) got walked in on, or (C) didn’t know what hit her. Her bruises looked like she’d been pummeled unconscious. I didn’t think she was tortured. Just knocked out and dumped in the Jacuzzi. That was the bright side.
    Good thing I was not a self-absorbed person or I’d be blaming myself for this. But in my advancing maturity, I knew