Pumped for Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

your screen if the members are three months behind on their payments. If that happens, you have to tell them their membership is frozen until they pay up. Some get embarrassed. A few turn nasty. If they get abusive, press that red button under the counter here and Derek will come running. The sales boys are right over there, but they’re usually trapping anyone who comes in wearing civilian clothes.”
    “I know,” Helen said. “I ran into Logan.”
    “That scumbag,” Carla said. “Stay away from him.”
    Before she could explain why, a perky brunette interrupted them. “Hey there,” she said. “It’s Beth.” She cocked her brown head to one side, like a sparrow.
    Beth had a cheerleader’s compact, muscular body and a soccer mom haircut. Her red workout suit seemed to be a series of holes. The interconnected fabric barely covered the vital spots.
    “Could you check the computer and see if Jon is here yet?” She put a twenty on the counter.
    “Sorry,” Carla said. “We’re not allowed to do that.”
    “Oh.” Beth looked sweetly confused. “I thought—”
    “Helen here is a trainee ,” Carla said.
    Beth fumbled in her purse, found another twenty and put it in front of Helen.
    “We’re both risking our jobs,” Carla said.
    Two more twenties appeared. Carla clicked the computer keys and said, “Jon arrived ten minutes ago. He’s probably in the weight room now.”
    “There he is!” Beth said, running upstairs to the weight room.
    “If she sneezes in that workout suit, she’ll be arrested for indecent exposure,” Helen said. “How does she exercise in that thing?”
    “She’ll get quite a workout—in the towel closet with Jon,” Carla said. “Those holes are artistically arranged to make a quickie quicker.”
    “Why don’t Beth and Jon get a motel room?” Helen asked.
    “Most couples do,” Carla said. “But not those two. Jon’s splitting with his wife. He’s afraid she has detectives sneaking around watching him.”
    Helen hoped she wasn’t blushing.
    “Is Beth going to marry him once he’s divorced?” Helen asked.
    “No way,” Carla said. “Jon doesn’t make enough money as a car salesman. Beth’s husband is an anesthesiologist, and she doesn’t want to lose her meal ticket.
    “What I told Beth was true. We are not supposed to give out that information. When a couple is having an affair, they’ll ask if their lover is at the gym now or was in earlier for a workout. You can see the full day’s check-ins and check-outs by hitting this key.”
    “May I?” Helen said. She checked the names. Their client’s husband—Bryan Minars—had come in at seven ten, about the same time his wife hired Helen to watch her possibly wayward husband. He’d left ten minutes before Helen arrived at the gym.
    “Hitting that key is the best way I know to boost your income,” Carla said. “The going rate for adultery information is twenty bucks, but if they’re desperate you can milk them for forty. That’s your split. Don’t let Derek see you. Taking bribes is a firing offense.”
    “You keep it.” Helen slid the cash toward Carla.
    The receptionist flushed with surprise and pocketed the eighty dollars. “Thanks. Just keep it quiet.”
    “I won’t tell,” Helen said. “I need this job.”
    “Me, too,” Carla said. “I can’t afford Fantastic Fitness’s high ethics.”
    A scream split the air, a sound louder than the pounding music. “Listen! I want to watch Fox News. Give me the clicker.” A woman’s voice, low and rumbling.
    “Oh, no, you don’t, Debbi. It’s my week. I get to watch my station.” This voice was higher and lighter, like a yappy Yorkie.
    “You’re full of it, Heather. And you’re fat.” Debbi said the F word as the ultimate insult.
    “You could use some fat,” Heather said. “You might look like a human instead of a freak.”
    Two women were scuffling over a TV clicker. Debbi, the taller one, had a body like a strip of beef jerky—long,