A Body to die for

recruited me to train the girls.”
    “And you trained them well, I hear.”
    “The art of sensual massage is my calling in life, Wanda,” Freddie bragged.
    “And that, of course, included a demonstration of how to kill someone by pressing their carotid arteries,” I said.
    “Well, that, too. But only in case a client gets out of hand. Sometimes hookers find themselves in the darnedest situations.”
    Did he say hookers? “You don’t have to tell me.”
    “You were a hooker?”
    “Once, long ago,” I lied.
    Max burst inside. “What?” he demanded. “Did I just hear you say you were a prostitute? I’ve gotten used to this detective crap, and I’m okay with the fact that you’ve slept with more guys that all of us can count on our fingers and toes, but I’m not sure I can spend eternity with a woman who used to have sex for money. I’m sorry, Wanda.” Max sank down onto the couch, completely dejected.
    I turned to Fred. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
    “Go in the hall?” he asked.
    “If you don’t mind.”
    Fred went in the hall. I punched Max on the shoulder and whispered, “What kind of moron are you? No, don’t tell me. You’re the moronic kind.”
    “Don’t you turn this around,” he said.
    “I was trying to relate so he’d talk more. Jesus, you can be such an idiot. Do you really think I’d have sex for money? For jewels, a castle in France, my own talk show—maybe. But for money? Am I so crass? If you really think I could have, maybe you shouldn’t marry me.
    “Who said anything about getting married?” he asked.
    “You did, asshole.”
    “I said spending eternity together—a completely different thing.”
    “So you’d join me in a suicide pact, but not in marriage?”
    “You’re losing it, Wanda. This time, you’re really gone.”
    The fight continued. Freddie’s knock was barely audible. Finally, he just walked back into the apartment and sat down on the couch. Max and I shut up. Freddie said, “You don’t have to pretend you were a hooker. I want to clear my conscience of the whole sordid business.”
    “Then talk,” barked Max. “Keep your paws off my girlfriend. And talk fast so you can get the fuck out of here.”
    Freddie nodded. His droopy chin sank. “Barney and Janey were running an aerobics instructor prostitution ring in the club.” He cut to the bone. Alex was right. It’d hurt to tell him. “Barney was in charge of getting the clients. He’d mainly scope out the guys who came into his Cut Me store to buy protein supplements to make them more manly looking. He preyed on their insecurities, but it was good business. Janey was in charge of the girls. She’d teach them aerobics so they’d blend in and she’d schedule sessions in the laundry room—and sometimes Ameleth’s office when she was out of town—with the members. The girls would give the guys a sensual massage—that’s where my training comes in—and then whatever the client wanted. Janey kept tabs for each guy. They paid up in cash at the end of the month. This has been going on for about six months. Ameleth has no idea.
    “I got a flat fee per girl for teaching massage,” he said. “Janey and Barney were making seventy percent, the girls got thirty. Everyone was getting rich, but then Barney got killed. The only reason I was in the club at all today was to scope out the new instructor—Leeza Robbins. I think that’s her name. Janey was going to see if she was game, and if so, I’d train her immediately. Janey is very committed to keeping the business going, and growing. Of course, she’ll make twice as much money now with Barney gone.”
    Freddie found his glass of water on the floor. He sipped and smacked his lips. He continued: “And then you showed up. Janey wanted me to find out if you had any idea about the ring, so she set up the massage with the two of us. And let me tell you, Janey was pissed because nothing came of it. She doesn’t know I’m here, by the way. I want out. I’m having a bout of conscience. Barney might have gotten killed over this. This Leeza seems like a nice girl, and I don’t think Janey should pressure her into getting involved. Plus, well, let’s just say that I don’t know where Janey was at the time of the murder. The whole thing is getting too nasty for me. When we started, it just seemed like a lot of harmless fun.”
    The phone rang. Max went to get it. He said, “Hello?” Then he held the phone out. “It’s for you.”