A Body to die for

“Name.”
    “What difference does it make?” he asked. “I’m dead.”
    “I’m not going to report you, asshole.” I turned off the water. If this kid peeped a lot, maybe he saw something yesterday evening.
    “Right,” he mocked. “Since when does a zitty perverted towel boy get a break?”
    I threw one of his precious towels at him. “Get up.” He got up. Must be six feet, if he was five inches. About sixteen. “You know a man was killed here last night?”
    “Yeah, so what?” he asked. “Barney Cutler was a dick.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “He never let me watch.”
    “Watch what?” I asked. “Women in the bathroom?”
    “Whatever. Look—can I go? If I get caught in here, I’m dead.”
    I nodded reluctantly. He ran out, all awkward limbs and dripping clothes. I wondered what Barney was trying to keep private. I made a mental note to track down the peeping towel boy again. Maybe I’ll bring some candy or baseball cards. Maybe a copy of Penthouse. I wasn’t above bribery. In fact, the only thing I was above, on a regular basis, was Max.
    I left the bathroom. I headed for the elevator banks. Imagine my surprise: Ameleth Bergen sat on the couch right next to the elevators, enjoying what I took to be a cup of hot cider. Her hair was calmer than it’d been the night before—probably because we weren’t in a room full of steam. Our eyes met. With my four eyes and her two, they could have had a party. Hers were flinty gray with big flecks of gold. Except for the scowl on her face, she was a decent looking woman. I smiled as I approached. She stood. She must have bought her all-black bodysuit (told you) in the junior department. With a good six inches on her and at least forty pounds, I could win in a cat fight. Her waist couldn’t have been more than twenty inches around.
    “Ergort said you were looking for me,” she said.
    “You heard right,” I said.
    “You found me,” she said. “What do you want?”
    “I want to talk about Barney’s murder.”
    “I thought you wanted to talk to me about dropping the charges on Jack.”
    “Whatever gave you that idea?” I asked.
    Ameleth arranged her mini arms akimbo. She stood there like a statue for a minute, staring at me accusingly. I almost broke, but she said, “Come with me.” She pushed the elevator call button and the door opened immediately. We stepped inside. “We’ll go to my office,” she said, fitting her key in the slot Jack used the night before. I found that strange. Surely the room was sealed. The elevator whisked us heavenward.
    “Returning to the scene of the crime,” I said.
    “Maybe we’ll find the killer there,” she said. “But I doubt it, considering that the killer is currently in jail.”
    “I suppose couples counseling is out of the question.” I almost offered my social services again.
    She glared at me with her flints. “Jack Watson can rot in jail for all I care.”
    The elevator doors whooshed open. We stepped into the suite. The tomato stains were all over the carpet. In fact, everything looked pretty much the same as last night, minus the cops. Ameleth didn’t stop at the bar for a celery cocktail. Nor did she hop on the treadmill. She stormed straight into the back room. I followed. Barney’s clothes were gone. Ameleth’s clean, clear desk was now strewn with papers. She grabbed a handful and shook them at me. “Bills. Thousands of dollars worth. Like I need to pay for a broken window, too? With Barney gone, the club is my entire life. If I go bankrupt, I might as well die.”
    “Don’t you have a bank account? Savings?” I wondered if she cared about the three grand Jack took from her safe.
    Ameleth dropped the handful of papers. “I don’t know where Jack found you, or who the hell you are. But it’s none of your goddamn business how I run the club. Jack said this morning that you had three thousand dollars of my money.”
    “You spoke to Jack?” I asked, confused.
    “I spoke to the detective, actually. She told me Jack said he had three thousand dollars to pay off his bail. He just had to get it back from you. Of course, I checked my office safe. If you don’t get the money back to me by the end of the day, I’m going to have to send a friend of mine over to see you.”
    I was shaking in my sneakers. “Tax cheaters never prosper,” I said with a tsk. “And please do send someone over. I’m new to the neighborhood and I’ve always found it so hard to make