“Sure thing.” Holiday nodded a goodbye to the rest of them and left the room.
“So, what do you think?” Lonnie looked at the rest of them. “Could we have us a stalker?”
“If we do, how come we haven’t heard him mentioned in connection with the other victims?” Jen said.
“Maybe he didn’t date them all.” Hardesty shrugged. “Maybe he just stalked the others from afar but had a more personal relationship with Kaufmann.”
“I think we need to talk to everybody connected with Sams and Edwards again,” Lonnie said. “This time, let’s ask specifically about a bearded stud with a red Corvette.”
“I didn’t think studs needed Corvettes,” Al said, getting a laugh from the men in the room. “Do they, Jen?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never known a man with a Corvette.”
She directed her attention back to the files on the table, and the men followed suit. Thirty minutes later, they had reviewed everything written and photographed about the three cases. They still knew as little as they’d known when they sat down.
CHAPTER 12
The lobby of the BodyFit Athletic Club was luxurious, filled with greenery, blue leather sofas and chairs, a fountain, and the sound of rock music. One side of the lobby was clear structural glass, through which Jen saw four middle-aged men engaged in a competitive game of doubles racquetball, T-shirts stained with dark circles of sweat. The corner of a second court was just visible at the beginning of the hall leading off the lobby.
The opposite wall of the lobby was solid only halfway up, the top part more of the structural glass construction. Through it, Jen saw men and women of all ages, sizes, and shapes working out on machines and free weights. The room was huge, and a second floor running track circled it overhead.
A second hall led off that side of the lobby with signs pointing to the gym, locker rooms, and restrooms. Between the two halls and in front of the back wall of the lobby was the reception desk, and behind it, a door marked “Office.”
A short redhead in her late teens or early twenties was working the reception desk. When they showed their IDs and asked to speak to the manager, she turned and knocked on the door behind her. A man Jen guessed to be in his late twenties or early thirties came out of the office. He was dressed in black leotards, tights, and a short-sleeved, fitted, green tee with the BodyFit logo on the front. His name tag introduced him as “Stu” and his title as “Assistant Manager.” He was blond, tan, and muscular—a walking advertisement for the club. He looked surprised when she and Will displayed their respective IDs and ushered them into his small office behind the reception desk.
“Murders?” he said as he settled into a chair behind his desk. “You mean the ones everyone’s talking about? I knew the girl who was killed a couple of weeks ago was a member, but I didn’t realize they both were.”
“We don’t know if the first victim came here or not,” Jen said, “but there’s been a third murder overnight involving another of your members.”
“Oh, crap!” Stu groaned and rubbed his hand across his face.
“So far, the club is the only connection we have between any of the victims,” Jen said. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but we have to check it out.”
“Sure, I get it.” Stu looked disturbed. “It gives me the creeps to think somebody that comes in here might be a killer. Not to mention the fact that it wouldn’t be very good for business.”
“No, I don’t suppose it would.”
“I guess that sounded cold, didn’t it? I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that this is a new place, and the owners have invested a lot in it. The first few months are crucial to any new business.”
“We understand. You said you had already realized Carla Edwards was a member here. Did you know her personally?”
“Not really. But I signed her up, and she was a regular. Seemed like a nice person. Serious about taking care of herself. She worked out on the machines three days a week and used the running track when the weather wasn’t so great. She played a little racquetball, too.”
“It sounds like she spent a lot of time here.”
“She did. I’d have to check to be sure how often, but I’d guess almost every day.”
“Did she spend any of her time here socializing?”
“If you’re asking was she a pickup artist, no, I don’t think so. The people who come here are serious about what they’re doing, whether it’s getting in shape for weight competitions or just trying to lose weight. As far as I know, she was the same. I suppose she may have hooked up with someone here, but if she did, I don’t know who. You have to remember, I’m working when I’m here.”
“What about a woman named Victoria Kaufmann?” Jen said.
“Is that the woman who was just killed?” He turned to the computer on his desk, tapped a few keys, and after a second, nodded. “The name didn’t sound familiar, but that’s because I didn’t sign her up. We had a girl here for a few days who didn’t work out. She signed Victoria Kaufmann.”
Stu looked at the picture Jen held out.
“I think I remember seeing her around. I don’t remember anything in particular about her, though.”
“Can you check and see if a woman named Judy Sams was a member?”
Stu tapped the keys again and came up with a negative answer. He looked relieved. Jen started to thank him for his time when Will spoke.
“I’m guessing you keep lists of people who stop in for introductory visits, don’t you? So you can follow up with mailed promotions or calls?”
Jen hadn’t thought of that. Maybe Lonnie was right about it being better to have two people conduct interviews.
Stu nodded reluctantly and tapped the keys again. A few moments later, he looked up, the expression
