False Prophet
pick vegetables from the garden, maybe fix the sink… that kind of thing.”
    “Oh…” Kelley relaxed her shoulders. “Yes. Lilah does send him on errands for her. That should show you how much she trusts him.”
    Marge remained casual. “You want to start compiling that list, I’ll look around the grounds, get my bearings. You don’t mind, do you?”
    Kelley had turned pale. “I’m not sure I should do anything without Ms. Brecht’s say-so.”
    “Ms. Ness, why aren’t you jumping to help out? Your employer was attacked, beaten. Don’t you want to find who did it?”
    “Of course I do! It’s just such a shock — My God, this is
unbelievable
!”
    Marge stood, slung her purse over her shoulder. “You know the best thing to do when you’ve been jolted by something like this? You do something concrete. Like make a list. The little details always bring you back to earth. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
    “I guess—”
    “I’ll be wandering around,” Marge said. “Page me when you have the list.”
    “Detective!” Kelley blurted out. “Detective, no offense, but I don’t want to scare the women by having the police nose around.”
    “I understand completely. I guarantee you, I won’t be disruptive.” Marge winked. “Hey, I’ll grab myself a guava juice and blend in with the crowd.”
     
5
     
    The group had begun the cool-down portion of the workout when Mike Ness heard his name over the loudspeaker. Towel wrapped around his neck, tank top soaked with perspiration, he told his ladies to “keep it moving” while he answered the page. The afternoon high-impact aerobics class was held in the Jazzarena, its back wall a giant mural of famous musicians. The room’s phone was embedded between Dizzy Gillespie’s eyes. Ness picked up the receiver.
    “Mike, I just want to warn you. The police are here, poking around.”
    Ness couldn’t answer. He felt his heart race.
    “Apparently something happened to Lilah last night—”
    “What!”
    “She was attacked, Mike.”
    Ness felt his knees buckle.
Why did everything he touch turn to shit?
“Wha… what happened, Kell?”
    “I only know that she’s in the hospital. I don’t even know which one. I’m going to do some calling around. You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
    “Of course not!”
    Kelley paused. “Please. Just act normal. If the detective asks you where you were last night, say you were sleeping in your room, okay?”
    “I
was
sleeping in my room. What the hell are you saying?”
    Kelley sighed. “I’m nervous, Mike. I mean, the detective — she’s a woman by the way — she was professional but pushy. All of us should just stay calm and cool, all right?”
    “I am calm and cool.”
    “Well,
bully
for you.”
    “That was mature, Kell.”
    Kelley paused again. “Michael, I’m
scared
!”
    “Have you spoken to Davida?”
    “She’s not in. I don’t even know if she knows about it. The detective didn’t want me talking to her but screw that! I can’t get hold of Freddy, either. I don’t know what to do, Mike.”
    “There’s nothing to do, Kell. What are you worried about?”
    “I just didn’t like her attitude. She was too inquisitive.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t detectives supposed to be inquisitive?”
    “No, it was more. She was like accusing everyone.”
    Ness felt the phone slipping out of his hand. He wiped his sweaty palm on his gym shorts. “Accusing who?”
    “She wants a list of all the men who work here.”
    “Was Lilah raped?” Ness whispered into the phone.
    “I don’t know.”
    Ness took a deep breath. “Give her what she wants. I’ve got to button up this class—”
    “The detective will want to talk to you.”
    “So?”
    “So… is that okay?”
    “Yes, it’s
okay
!”
    “I’m sorry, Mike, I’m just so nervous!”
    Ness sighed. Little Kelley always did have a nervous tummy, always throwing up before finals. “Calm down, sis. Do some deep

Similar Books

Franklin's Halloween

Brenda Clark, Paulette Bourgeois

Dark Desire

Shannan Albright

Dead Ringer

Roy Lewis

Red Alert

Jessica Andersen

Undead and Uneasy

MaryJanice Davidson

Hollywood Lust

M. Z. Kelly

Great Meadow

Dirk Bogarde