“Did she ever mention anyone bothering her? Anyone that made her uncomfortable?”
“We weren’t doing a lot of talking lately.” He said it quietly while he looked down at his hands. “I don’t remember her saying anything like that. She liked the old guys who came into the club. Especially the old guys. Smooth, she said. They got smooth with age, like whiskey or something. Some hit on her now and then, and she got a kick out of it. At least I didn’t get twisted about that. I thought it was funny.”
“Anyone specifically?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pay much attention. I’m not into that retro crap. Bored me senseless, you know? She looked good though, when she dressed up for work? Man, she looked good.”
Not much of a well to pump there,” Peabody commented as they rode down.
“I don’t
know. She liked older men, older men liked her. It’s high probability the killer is an older man.”
“And?”
“I bet he chatted her up somewhere along the line. A week or two before he grabbed her, he makes contact in the club. That’d be a big thrill for him, having a conversation, maybe a dance with his intended victim. A good way to get another sense of her, a gauge, a rhythm.”
“Yeah.” Peabody hissed in her breath as they started outside. “And…If he did, and she saw him later—on the street, wherever he made the grab, she’d be friendly, at ease. It’s Mr. Smooth from Starlight.”
“So, if he made contact with her…maybe he made contact with Gia Rossi.”
“The fitness center.”
“Place to start.”
He knew how to blend. He knew how to make himself inconspicuous, so that eyes passed over him without notice. It was a skill he put to good use during the research phase of any project.
He used it now as he watched her—Eve Dallas—stride out of the apartment building, down the street. Ground-eating strides. Loose and busy. Strong.
He very much approved of strong women—physically and mentally.
She’d been strong. The Eve of all the others. The mother. She’d been very strong, he remembered, but he believed this Eve—this last Eve—would be stronger than any who had come before.
Not time for you yet, he thought as he watched her, watched the way she moved. Not quite time for this Eve. But when it was, oh…
He believed she would be his finest work to date. A new level of excellence. And the pinnacle of all he’d accomplished.
But for now, there was another who required his attention.
He really should get home to her.
The manager of BodyWorks was a six-foot Asian with a body like molded steel. He went by the name of Pi. He wore a black skin-suit and a small, trim goatee.
“Like I told the other cops, it was just another day. Gia had her classes, her clients. I gave them the client list. Do you need—”
“No, they have it. Thanks for cooperating.”
He dropped down into a chair in his office, a glass box that allowed him to view all the areas on that level of the center. Outside it, people pumped, sweated, trotted, flexed, and twisted.
“We’re pals, you know? I can’t get through the idea something may have happened to her. But I’m telling you, she can take care of herself. That’s what I think. She’s tough.”
“Anybody ask for her specifically in the last few weeks?” Eve asked him.
“Yeah, like I told the other guys. She’d get referrals from clients. Word of mouth. She’s good at what she does, gets results, but doesn’t drill sergeant the client into it.”
“How about older guys, say over sixty?”
“Sure. Sure. Fitness isn’t just for kids, you know. She has some clients like that, and we get them in for classes. She runs a tai chi class twice a week, a yoga class every other morning geared for the over-sixty group. Twice a week she has classes geared for the centennials.”