Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

so you’ll have to review them there.”
    “I can do that. I’ll also cross reference Vogue’s parole cases against whatever turns up from our own database.”
    “Good idea. If you get lucky, you might just find a match.”
    I explained to Terry what I had learned at the Starlite Motel. I told him that I would discreetly attempt to determine whether Levi’s murder was in any way connected to his trysts at the motel.
    “You want me to begin putting feelers out among our inmate snitches?” asked Terry.
    “Not yet. I’d like to hold off on that until I talk to the director. Keep me posted on anything you learn. The Old Man is going to be all over me on this one. I can just feel it.”
    ***
    On my way back to the Starlite Motel, I detoured past the Gold’s Gym in Midvale. I was greeted at the front desk by a perky-looking brunette with well-toned muscles and less body fat than Kate Moss. She identified herself as the gym manager. Her name was Brandy Alexander, leaving me to wonder exactly what it was that possessed parents to name children the way they do. When asked about Bill Allred’s membership at the gym, she quickly produced his membership records.
    “Mr. Allred joined the gym almost five years ago,” she said, staring intently into the computer screen. “He visits regularly, three to four times a week, usually in the evenings.”
    “How about guests?” I said. “Is he allowed to bring guests?”
    She paused while bringing up a different screen. “Yes, it looks like Mr. Allred brought another gentleman by the name of Levi Vogue with him, let’s see, on nine different occasions over six months. Mr. Vogue came in often enough that we eventually got him to join.”
    “And when was that?”
    “Three months ago. It’s funny, though, my computer tells me that Mr. Vogue never came back after joining—not once in three months.”
    Alexander printed me a copy of the membership records and I left the gym wondering why Allred had chosen to downplay his friendship with our murder victim. It was clear from the records that Vogue visited the gym as Allred’s guest more frequently than Allred cared to admit.

Chapter Eight
    Lou Ann Barlow turned out to be a real piece of work. A former stripper turned motel owner, she had a mouth on her that would have made Larry Flynt blush. I was ushered into her small office behind the front desk. She was standing in front of a four-drawer file cabinet, with her back to me, busily filing.
    She was a tall, statuesque peroxide blond, who, in her early fifties, still looked good enough to take center stage. Despite the cosmetic surgery, her face showed some age, but her body was long and lean with outstanding breasts.
    She caught me gaping at her pronounced chest and said, “I’m up here, honey. How the fuck can I help you?”
    I showed her my identification and muttered an embarrassed introduction.
    “As Mr. Arnold probably told you, I’m investigating the murder of Levi Vogue. I understand that your daughter, Sue Ann, was involved in a relationship with him. Frank told me that they sometimes met here at the motel. What can you tell me about that?”
    “Nothin’ really. And Frank tends to get talkin’ about shit that isn’t any of his goddamn business. I’ll have to speak with him about that.”
    “Look, I know you’re trying to protect your daughter, but she might have information that would help us solve a murder. She’s not in trouble, but it is imperative that I talk to her as soon as possible.”
    “Like I already told you Mr.—what’s your name again?”
    “Kincaid, Sam Kincaid.”
    “Oh, yeah. Well, Mr. Kincaid, like I already told ya, I don’t really know anything. I will tell you this, though. My Sue Ann wouldn’t have anything to do with no murder.”
    She was starting to piss me off. “Mrs. Barlow, let me put this to you another way. I’m in the middle of a murder investigation, and like it or not, your daughter is somehow involved. I don’t know if she’s a suspect or a material witness, but I’m going to have to talk with her. I need your cooperation. It would save us both a lot of trouble if you’d help me out.”
    “None of my fuckin’ business, honey. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some heavy-duty filing to do here.”
    Diplomacy had obviously failed, and I knew it was time for a small attitude adjustment. “Good idea. When the Fire Marshal and the people from the health department show up, they’ll probably need to