Chapter Eleven
Bodytech was located on Magazine Street, just beyond Louisiana Avenue.
I pulled into the parking lot. Several other cars were there, but Allen’s white Lexus wasn’t one of them. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk with my ex. I pulled into a spot and got out of the car. I checked for reporters, laughing grimly to myself. But I’d lost the ones who’d tried to follow me. Hopefully, none of them would figure out where I’d gone. The cars in the lot were empty, and no other cars pulled into the lot. I locked the car and walked into the gym.
A pumping dance remix of Fergie’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry” was blaring over the stereo system. Davina, a gorgeous young woman of Middle Eastern descent, was working at the front desk. She had her back to me, her long thick bluish-black hair hanging down her back in a braid. She was folding towels. I liked her-she’d been working at Bodytech since the flood. The gym she’d worked at in Mid-City had closed. I swiped my membership card, and said, “Good morning, Davina. I have an appointment with Brett.” I glanced at the little tree with the trainer’s business cards right next to the card-reader. His card was at the top:
“Okay,” she said. She turned around and gave a start when she got a good look at my face. Her eyes widened. She swallowed. “Um, good morning, Chanse. My God, what happened to you? Are you all right?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news?” I gestured at my face and shrugged. “I got jumped last night.” I gave a half-hearted laugh. “I know I look awful-but it looks better today than it did last night.”
“Wow, they sure did a number on you.” She shook her head and regained her professional composure. “It just took me by surprise.” She stepped closer to the counter. “Are you okay?” She reached over and touched one of the bruises on my cheek. I flinched, and she pulled her hand back. “Sorry!”
“Ah, no problem.” I smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve been better. Is Brett here?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he’s in the trainer’s office.” She tilted her head to one side. “What are you doing making an appointment with a trainer after all these years?” She looked me up and down critically. She leaned on the counter with her elbows.
“I want to trim down some.” I lied. “I’ve put on a lot of size these last few years, and I want to drop about twenty pounds.” I winked. “That’s my fighting weight. Besides, I’ve heard really good things about Brett.”
“He’s not the one I would choose, frankly.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that he’s not a good trainer. He’s just…oh, never mind.”
“What?” I leaned on the counter and lowered my voice. “Come on, Davina, spill.”
“He’s really arrogant.” She pursed her lips. “Thinks he’s God’s gift, you know what I mean? He’s never met a mirror he didn’t like.” She waved a hand. “But he’s a good trainer. Just be prepared to know more about him than you want to.” She picked up the phone. “Go on back. I’ll let him know you’re on your way.” She pressed a button as I walked away.
The trainer’s office was in the far back corner of the gym. The building housing Bodytech had once been a small sugar warehouse, so the workout area was one big room. The wall facing the parking lot was all windows, tinted to reduce the sun’s glare. The front desk was on the right side, with the management office door to the left. The locker rooms were also on that side of the building. The opposite wall was all mirrors. The front area by the desk was where the cardio machines were, with a small aerobics room fitting into the front corner. I walked past the cardio machines, and glanced up at the huge TV screens hanging on the opposite wall. One was tuned into CNN, and I saw another view of myself standing on the front steps to my apartment, pointing at my face. Apparently, my little moment of fame was still in heavy rotation. Several people on treadmills with headphones on were staring at that television. I winced and started walking faster.
The trainer’s office was all glass with a door. I could see someone seated at the desk in there, going over some papers. There was a file cabinet in the back corner, and a chair right next to the desk for a client to be seated. I crossed the weight area and knocked on the open door. “Brett? I have an appointment? I’m Chanse MacLeod.”
“Hi.” Brett closed the file on his desk and stood up. He reached his right hand toward me just as he got a good look at my face. His eyes widened in shock-a reaction I was getting used to.
I took his big hand and shook it. It was lined with calluses. “Nice to meet you.” I said. “And yes, my face takes some getting used to.”
“Sorry. Christ, man.” He gripped my hand hard before letting go. He stood a little taller than six feet, I estimated, and had to weigh in excess of two hundred pounds. His blonde hair was buzzed down almost to the scalp. He had vibrant blue eyes. He was wearing a gray Bodytech T-shirt with the sleeves cut off deeply so that it barely covered his chest. The deep cut of the shirt exposed his thick lat muscles. His tan arms were lined with veins. His muscles were thick and deeply defined. He sported a golden tan. He looked to be in his early forties, I judged by the lines from his eyes and mouth. When he smiled again, deep dimples sank into his cheeks. “You know, when I saw your name in the appointment book I wondered if you were really the guy I saw on television this morning.”
“Well, the odds against there being two Chanse MacLeods in New Orleans are pretty high.” I replied. “Not exactly a common name.”
“No, it’s not. Have a seat.” he gestured toward the chair. He sat down behind the desk again. “So, what can I do for you?” He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized my body. “You’re pretty solid and in pretty good shape already. What kind of changes are you thinking about making?” He thought for a moment. “I’d recommend trimming down a bit-you’re a big guy. Maybe get a bit leaner? Or do you want to really pack on some muscle size? The shape you’re in, either would be relatively easy to pull off with the right program and diet.”
“I don’t need a trainer.” I replied. Might as well put my cards on the table, I figured. “I’m here about the Glynis Parrish murder.” I watched his face.
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His face was expression-less. “I kind of figured that’s what this was.” He set his jaw. “I told the police everything I know. And it’s not cool to make an appointment under false pretenses. I’m pretty busy.”
“That’s smart.” I said. “You should always cooperate with the cops.” I pulled my wallet out and placed it on the desk. “I’m prepared to pay you for your time. I made an appointment for an hour with a trainer.”
He laughed. “Fifty bucks? That buys you a workout for an hour. Not a conversation about one of my other clients.” He leaned forward and smirked. “I got three tabloids willing to pay me ten grand to tell them everything I know about Glynis. Why should I tell you for fifty bucks?””
“Okay. Suit yourself.” I put my wallet back in my pocket. “I guess I’ll wait and read what you have to say in line at the grocery store.” I stood up.
“Wait.”
I turned and looked at him. He stared at my face. “What you said on TV-about why you got beat up-was that true?”
I nodded. “As far as I know, yeah.”
“Do you think-“ he swallowed. “I might be in danger?”
I managed not to smile in triumph. I sat back down. “That depends on what you know. You sure you don’t want a tabloid payday?” I leaned back in my chair and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long. He swallowed. “Just because I talk to you doesn’t mean I still can’t sell my story to them.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, I don’t really know that much, to tell you the truth. About the murder, I mean.” Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “I trained Glynis in the mornings, five days a week. On the days when she had an early call, I had to be there at five. The days she didn’t have to be on set, I was there at seven. She always woke up early. She said it was a holdover from the television show-she had to always be up early and her body never adjusted.”
“Were you there the day she died?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “Yeah, I was there that morning.”
“Did you notice anything unusual about her that day? Did she seem different in any way?”
“No. She was the same as she always was. Wide awake and ready to go. She was a great client that way-she
