you.”
The house opened up to a soaring three-story foyer. Free-form silver chandeliers dripped down, showering light over what Eve thought might be the original wood floors.
That space flowed into a living area where a fire snapped inside a black marble hearth, a tree draped in crystals and red ribbon glittered, and two women sat on a massive circular sofa drinking clear liquid out of martini glasses.
They were both blond, both lookers, with enough similarities in sharp features and coloring for Eve to surmise family connection.
One—the oldest by maybe five years in Eve’s estimation—tapped the cushion beside her. A sleek, narrow arm glided up. She set her drink on it, rose.
“I’m Natasha Quigley. This must be about Trey. Martella just told me he was murdered. My sister. We’re both clients. Actually, we’re
all
clients. My husband and hers. How can we help?”
“When did you last see or speak with Mr. Ziegler?”
“I—oh, I’m sorry, this has been a shock. Please, sit down. Can I offer you anything?”
“We’re fine, thanks.” Eve took a chair with a low, semicircular back. Everything in the room seemed to follow the round theme.
“Sorry.” Natasha sat again. “I think this is the first time we’ve had police in the house—officially. I had my usual Tuesday morning session with Trey. I work with him twice a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays, ten A.M . Thursdays I follow the workout with a massage. We didn’t have a session scheduled today as he was going out of town to a conference.”
“And you, Mrs. Schubert? Since you’re here.”
“Oh.” Martella took a quick sip of her drink, bit her lip. “It would’ve been Wednesday morning. I was Wednesday mornings and Friday afternoons. So, um, yesterday morning. Tilly said he died yesterday, but I saw him, and he was fine.”
“Tilly?” Eve prompted.
“Tilly Burke. She heard from Lola. You went to see Lola, and she talked to Tilly. Tilly didn’t work with Trey, she worked with Flora because she wanted a female trainer, but she knew Trey. Everyone knew Trey.”
She paused, drank again. “I’m talking too much.”
“Yes, you are.” Natasha patted her on the leg. “It’s upsetting.”
“It feels awful.”
“How long were you clients, specifically of Mr. Ziegler’s?”
“It must be six months now. A little longer for you, Tella.”
“I switched to BB. Tilly and I used to go to Sensible Fitness but they just got really boring, and BB had just remodeled, done a whole vamp of their locker rooms. It has such a good feel, so we joined, thenTash joined when I told her how much more I liked it. Then I started working with Trey. He really upped my game. I bought Trey for Lance for his last birthday.”
“She means she bought her husband weekly personal training sessions,” Natasha explained. “Tella raved so, I took a two-week trial with him myself and I was hooked.”
“Did you socialize with him?”
“Socialize?” Natasha lifted an eyebrow as if the question baffled her. “You mean personally? I had lunch with him a few times in the juice bar to discuss fitness options and strategies.”
“And outside the gym.”
“Not really. Though JJ and I invited him to our club once or twice. We felt he’d vastly improved our tennis game. Speed and endurance,” she added with a smile. “And his focus on upper-body work seriously strengthened my backhand. He and JJ played golf now and then,” she added. “They’re both fanatics about golf.”
“Did you ever go to his apartment?”
“Why no. Why would I?”
Eve shifted her attention to the sister. Martella gave all hers to her drink. “Mrs. Schubert?”
“Yes? What?”
“Did you ever see Mr. Ziegler outside of the fitness center?”
“Oh, well . . . He came to the club. Tash, I’m going to ask Hester for another drink.”
“Mrs. Schubert?” Eve said, voice firm and flat.
“Yes?”
“How long were you sexually involved with Mr. Ziegler?”
“That’s a
The house opened up to a soaring three-story foyer. Free-form silver chandeliers dripped down, showering light over what Eve thought might be the original wood floors.
That space flowed into a living area where a fire snapped inside a black marble hearth, a tree draped in crystals and red ribbon glittered, and two women sat on a massive circular sofa drinking clear liquid out of martini glasses.
They were both blond, both lookers, with enough similarities in sharp features and coloring for Eve to surmise family connection.
One—the oldest by maybe five years in Eve’s estimation—tapped the cushion beside her. A sleek, narrow arm glided up. She set her drink on it, rose.
“I’m Natasha Quigley. This must be about Trey. Martella just told me he was murdered. My sister. We’re both clients. Actually, we’re
all
clients. My husband and hers. How can we help?”
“When did you last see or speak with Mr. Ziegler?”
“I—oh, I’m sorry, this has been a shock. Please, sit down. Can I offer you anything?”
“We’re fine, thanks.” Eve took a chair with a low, semicircular back. Everything in the room seemed to follow the round theme.
“Sorry.” Natasha sat again. “I think this is the first time we’ve had police in the house—officially. I had my usual Tuesday morning session with Trey. I work with him twice a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays, ten A.M . Thursdays I follow the workout with a massage. We didn’t have a session scheduled today as he was going out of town to a conference.”
“And you, Mrs. Schubert? Since you’re here.”
“Oh.” Martella took a quick sip of her drink, bit her lip. “It would’ve been Wednesday morning. I was Wednesday mornings and Friday afternoons. So, um, yesterday morning. Tilly said he died yesterday, but I saw him, and he was fine.”
“Tilly?” Eve prompted.
“Tilly Burke. She heard from Lola. You went to see Lola, and she talked to Tilly. Tilly didn’t work with Trey, she worked with Flora because she wanted a female trainer, but she knew Trey. Everyone knew Trey.”
She paused, drank again. “I’m talking too much.”
“Yes, you are.” Natasha patted her on the leg. “It’s upsetting.”
“It feels awful.”
“How long were you clients, specifically of Mr. Ziegler’s?”
“It must be six months now. A little longer for you, Tella.”
“I switched to BB. Tilly and I used to go to Sensible Fitness but they just got really boring, and BB had just remodeled, done a whole vamp of their locker rooms. It has such a good feel, so we joined, thenTash joined when I told her how much more I liked it. Then I started working with Trey. He really upped my game. I bought Trey for Lance for his last birthday.”
“She means she bought her husband weekly personal training sessions,” Natasha explained. “Tella raved so, I took a two-week trial with him myself and I was hooked.”
“Did you socialize with him?”
“Socialize?” Natasha lifted an eyebrow as if the question baffled her. “You mean personally? I had lunch with him a few times in the juice bar to discuss fitness options and strategies.”
“And outside the gym.”
“Not really. Though JJ and I invited him to our club once or twice. We felt he’d vastly improved our tennis game. Speed and endurance,” she added with a smile. “And his focus on upper-body work seriously strengthened my backhand. He and JJ played golf now and then,” she added. “They’re both fanatics about golf.”
“Did you ever go to his apartment?”
“Why no. Why would I?”
Eve shifted her attention to the sister. Martella gave all hers to her drink. “Mrs. Schubert?”
“Yes? What?”
“Did you ever see Mr. Ziegler outside of the fitness center?”
“Oh, well . . . He came to the club. Tash, I’m going to ask Hester for another drink.”
“Mrs. Schubert?” Eve said, voice firm and flat.
“Yes?”
“How long were you sexually involved with Mr. Ziegler?”
“That’s a
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