A Body to die for

to tell me something.”
    He eyed me nervously and said, “ ’Kay.” His vocabulary was as broad as his shoulders. He moved his hands in front of his pants. Must have a hard-on.
    I smiled and took a step toward him. He took a step back. “How long was I cooking in there before you turned it off?” My skin felt absolutely normal.
    He shrugged. I asked, “Did you see who put me in there?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “I was watching from behind that.” He pointed at one of the facial tables. “She took off your clothes.” He shifted on his feet.
    “You a virgin, towel boy?”
    He turned bright red before saying, “Yeah.”
    “Too bad for you, buddy. Who put me in there? Was it Ameleth?”
    “Nah, some cow,” he said. I assumed he meant the slimmed-down Falcone. He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I’m not supposed to be in the ladies’ spa. If anyone finds out I was peeping again, I’ll get fired.”
    “You’re not getting fired, kid.” I checked my watch: after five. I told the kid to get lost. I split the gym myself—walked right out the front door. I didn’t see anyone around. In fact, the place was eerily quiet. Ergort hadn’t been at his post all afternoon. I wondered if this was his day off. If Ameleth and Betty (Betty!) Falcone weren’t around, they were probably hunting for the notebook and Janey, not necessarily in that order. I felt a chill. The night was nippy. Should I go to the cops and tell them that their crack homicide dick tried to kill me? Go to the hospital and recover the notebook? Hide?
    I headed home. I was shivering. I needed warmer clothes before I could do anything. I wondered if Max would be there. It’d only been a couple hours since I accused him of lying. After all that’s happened, Leeza knowing his work number didn’t seem that important. I turned onto Hicks Street. My skin began to feel prickly as if I’d rolled in salt. I hugged myself and kept walking.
    When I got home a few minutes later, Mr. Burpe was at his post on the stoop. I nodded. He grunted and said, “Pretty noisy up there.” Was Max really moving out? I ignored him and I let myself in. As I walked up the steps, I heard some thuds and bumps coming from my apartment—the unmistakable sound of furniture and suitcases dragging across the floor. He hadn’t even bothered to fight for me, the bastard. Out of the tanning bed and into the fire.
    As I stood at the door, key in hand, I vacillated between acting contrite and apologetic or bitchy and uncaring. I decided on restless and annoyed. I pushed the door open and said, “Aren’t you out of my life yet?” The cats were nowhere in sight.
    The voice that answered was gruffer than Max’s. It said, “One more step, and I’ll smash your pansy ass boyfriend like an egg.”
    I looked around but didn’t see where the voice was coming from. I nervously said, “Smash like an egg? You can scramble him like an egg. Or even fry him like an egg. But you smash a tennis ball, or a bottle of beer against your forehead.” I slipped inside and darted behind one of my large, unpacked clothing boxes in the living room. I said, “Okay, Ergort. Let Max go and I’ll do what you want.”
    I heard Ergort hold his massive, steroidian breath. “How’d you know it was me?” he asked.
    “The stench.”
    “Keep those jokes coming, Mallory, and I’ll—”
    “You’ll what? Whip my boyfriend like a cheeseburger? Beat him like a sponge?” My skin prickled. I looked at my arm. The UV rays had definitely had an effect; I was starting to glow pink.
    “Wanda, I think you should know that every time you open your mouth, this man tightens his grip about my neck.” Max’s voice gurgled. Once I’d killed a man to save Alex’s life. And now Max was in danger because of me. I wondered if I, like so many other women, was blaming myself without just cause. I said, “Let Max go and I’ll give you the notebook.”
    Here’s my theory: Barney used Ergort as his guinea pig. That’s how Ergort got so gargantuan in just one year after quitting the force. For the first time in his life, Ergort felt happy about his looks. He found out somehow about Larry’s super steroid, and he wanted to try it. Barney told him no. Ergort was furious—and prone to roid rage rampages anyway from his usual dosage. He stole the knife from the kitchen and killed Barney for denying him. As I now knew, Janey doled out keys to the suite like a Pez dispenser.
    Ergort waited a few seconds before