In Death 19 - Visions in Death

don't we start over?" "Female cops. Worse than a regular female. This is my place. Man oughta be able to do what he wants to do in his own place and not have some female cop come around telling him he has to cater to women."
    He was working up a good head of steam, eyes bulging, head bopping like a pigeon's, feet dancing in place. "I'll shut down before I have females prancing around here and asking me where's the fucking lemon water." "Aren't we both lucky I'm not here to bust your chops about your overt violations of discrimination laws." "Discrimination, my ass. This is a serious gym, not some froufrou palace." "So I see. I'm Lieutenant Dallas, this is Detective Peabody.
    We're Homicide." "Well, I sure as hell haven't killed anybody. Lately." "That's a big relief to me, Jim. You got an office?" "Why?" "So we could go there and have a discussion instead of me cuffing you and hauling your disagreeable ass into Central to have the discussion there. I'm not interested in shutting you down. I don't give a rat's skinny ass if you block women from your membership list or if you haul them in by the bargeload to dance naked in the showers. Providing you have shower facilities, which from the smell of things, you don't." "I got showers. I got an office. This is my place, and I run it my way." "Fine and good. Your office or mine, Jim?" "Goddamn females. You." He jabbed a finger at his fighter who continued to stand, gloves dangling, head down. "You do an hour with the rope till you learn what to do with your damn clumsy feet. I gotta go have a discussion." He marched off.
    Things started going downhill," Peabody commented as they started after him, "as soon as they gave us the vote. Bet he has that sad day circled in funeral black on his perpetual calendar." They had to climb a set of rusty iron stairs to a second level. The amazing stench of body odor, mildew, and flatulence identified the shower facilities. And made the eyes water.
    Even Eve who didn't consider herself overly fussy was forced to agree with Peabody's whispered: gross.
    Jim turned into a room identified as his office by the desk buried under sparring gloves, mouth guards, paper, and used towels. The walls were decorated with photos of a younger Jim in boxing trunks. In one he held a title belt aloft. Since his right eye was swollen shut, his nose bloody, and his torso black-and-blue, she assumed it hadn't been an easy victory.
    "What year did you take the title?" Eve asked him.
    "Forty-five. Twelve rounds. Knocked Hardy into a coma.
    Took him three days to come out of it." "You must be proud. We're conducting an investigation into the rape and strangulation of two women." "Don't know nothing about it." He tossed what might have been a pile of dirty laundry off a chair and sat. "Got two ex-wives.
    Gave up on women after the second one." "Wise choice. We believe the killer lives, works, or frequents this area." "Which is it? Typical female, can't make up your mind." "I can see why you have those two ex-wives, Jim. You're such a charmer. Two women are dead. They were beaten, raped, strangled, and mutilated, for no reason other than they were women." The cocky grin faded from his face. That's why I don't watch nothing but the sports channels. You think I go around beating and raping and killing women? I gotta get me a damn lawyer now?" "That's up to you. You're not a suspect, but we believe the man who killed these woman, who may have killed others, is serious about his body maintenance. He's big, and he's very strong. You'd get that type in here." "Well, Jesus H. Christ, what am I supposed to do? Ask a guy when he comes in to lift if he's going out to strangle some woman after?" "You're supposed to cooperate with the authorities and give me your membership list." "I know laws and shit. I don't have to do that unless you slap me with a warrant." "Try this instead." Eve reached into Peabody's bag and took out Elisa Maplewood's ID photo. This is what one of his victims looked like. Before. I won't show you the after. You wouldn't recognize her, not after what he'd done to her. She had a four-year-old daughter." "Jesus H. Christ." He looked away from it, glowered at the wall. "I know the guys who come in here. You think I'd let some crazy woman-killer use my place? I'd sooner have females." "The membership list." He puffed out his cheeks. "I don't hold with rape. Man's got a hand, doesn't he? Plenty of LCs around if he's got to stick his dick in something. I don't