Paper Bullets by Annie Reed Page B

Muscles was somewhere in his late thirties. He had a neat little beard the same color as his dirty-blond hair, and the edge of a tattoo peeked out from beneath the front of his tank top. He had more tribal tattoos wrapped around his upper arms.
    He might have been a handsome man at one time, but his face had a hard look, and it wasn’t just because he’d burned off all except maybe one percent of his body fat. I’d seen guys like him in every gym I’d ever been in, the guys who took body sculpture to a whole new level. His muscles might not be bulging, but he was just as serious as a Mr. Universe about keeping in shape. Could he possibly still be an undercover drug cop?
    Mr. Muscles looked at the note Melody still held, and then at me. His expression said he didn’t believe me either.
    “Yeah,” he said. “My car. Imagine that.”
    For a minute the three of us stood there not moving, then Mr. Muscles grumbled about needing his keys, and he disappeared through the door to the back.
    “Well, great!” I said to no one in particular. “I’m glad that all worked out.”
    Behind the desk, Stacy looked confused, like she knew something important had just happened, but she had no idea what. She shared a look with Ms. Lycra, who shrugged her shoulders.
    It was time for me to leave. I’d done enough damage. I didn’t have a name for the SUV’s driver, but at least I had a pretty good physical description. I could give that to Kyle, and he should be able to tell me whether Mr. Muscles was Lewis Richards.
    “Tell Ryan hello for me,” I said to Melody.
    She gave me a brittle smile in response. “One of many things I’ll be telling him.”
    I was sure of that.
    I beat feet out of the gym. I’d taken maybe half a dozen steps when I heard the door open behind me.
    “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
    Any semblance of a fake smile had left Melody’s face.
    “I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
    “You’re not a very good liar.”
    Not something a private investigator wants to hear. I sighed. “Look, I’m here doing a job. It has nothing to do with you.”
    “Sure, it doesn’t.” She had her arms folded across her ample chest. “Does Ryan have you checking up on me? Following me?”
    I could have pretended to be surprised that she’d even suspect Ryan would hire me to follow her, but genuine surprise a hard emotion to fake and she probably wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Time to go back on the offensive.
    “Why?” I asked. “Is there some reason he should hire a private detective to follow you around?” I crossed my own arms in front of my less than ample chest. “Are you keeping something from him?”
    Her lips pressed into a thin line. “None of your business,” she said from between clenched teeth.
    I’d hit a nerve, and that made me curious. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t my job to investigate her. Standing out in front of the gym arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere, and she was right. It wasn’t any of my business.
    “Look, if I upset you, I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “I’m on a job, that’s all.”
    I left her on the sidewalk in front of the gym and walked back to my car. I told myself I didn’t really feel her staring daggers into my back.
    Just to make the lie I’d told inside the gym look good, I got in line at the gas station.
    From where I sat waiting for the car in front of me to pull forward so I could get to a pump, I had a clear view of the front door of the gym.
    Melody had gone back inside, but Mr. Muscles came out carrying a gym bag in one hand. With the other, he held a cell phone up to one ear. I watched him scan the parking lot as he walked over to the white SUV.
    He stopped scanning when he saw my car.
    How did he know what I drove? My car was a nondescript silver sedan which I’d scrimped to finish paying for after the divorce was final. The shape and color were the second most common in Reno after the ever popular SUV.
    Melody might have told him,