Pumped for Murder by Elaine Viets Read Free Book Online

god.”
    The crowd parted for Mark. He towered over everyone. Helen couldn’t tear her eyes away. Mark’s face was sculpted perfection. The man was a Viking warrior in a pink Italian sport coat and artfully wrinkled white linen pants.
    He should be holding a sword, Helen thought.
    “Mark is wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses at night,” Phil said. “The man was a player.”
    “That’s all you can say?” Helen asked. “He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
    “Hey!” Phil said.
    “You don’t even notice Gus next to him,” Helen said, “and Gus was no slouch. It’s hard to believe someone as vibrant as Mark is dead. No wonder Gus still grieves for him.”
    Someone handed Mark a frosted mug of beer. He shouted at the camera: “Hey, Danny Boy, get your ass over here, so I can blow out these candles.” Mark’s grin took the sting out of his command.
    “You can’t talk to me like that in my own bar,” a reedy voice called back. Danny Boy’s speech was slightly slurred. A small rodent with slicked-down black hair appeared next to Mark. Danny Boy barely came to Mark’s shoulder, even in his red cowboy boots.
    “I’d wear sunglasses, too, if I had to stand next to Danny Boy’s Hawaiian shirt,” Phil said.
    Helen studied Gus’s list on her clipboard. “He’s the bar owner. Gus says he’s Mark’s best friend.”
    Danny Boy swayed in his cowboy boots and poked a finger at Mark’s massive chest. “Hurry up and blow out your candles, before the fire inspector shuts me down. Damn. Thirty candles. You’re old, man.”
    Danny led the crowd in an off-key version of “Happy Birthday.”
    Mark, smiling, golden, glowing, blew out his candles and bowed. His friends shouted, “Speech! Speech!”
    Mark held the beer mug aloft in a toast. “May you live forever, and may I never die.”
    Then Mark blew out the candles on his last birthday cake. The screen went dark.

CHAPTER 5
    “J ack the Dripper, I’m gonna break your face. I want you out of this gym! Out!”
    Debbi’s shriek made Helen drop the notebook she’d been studying behind the desk at Fantastic Fitness.
    Yesterday, the young bodybuilder had battled for the TV remote. This morning Debbi was boiling over with fresh rage. Her eyes bulged with fury. Her face was as hard as her muscles. “Carla, dammit, do something!”
    “What did he do this time?” Carla asked. Helen was grateful the receptionist stepped up to handle this complaint.
    “What he always does,” Debbi said. “Jack won’t wipe down the weight bench. It’s disgusting, the way he sweats. Look at my hand. It’s wet with his sweat.” The furious bodybuilder flicked the drops at Carla.
    “Hey!” Carla said. She ducked, but not fast enough.
    Jack the Dripper ambled over to the desk. He was pale as a cooked noodle and about as muscular.
    “What’s she complaining about now?” he asked. “You’re supposed to sweat at a gym. Real men sweat.”
    “Real men wipe down the bench when they finish,” Carla said. “That’s why we have sanitary wipes here. Unless you’re too weak to lift one.” She stared pointedly at his concave chest.
    “Hey, I’m a member here,” Jack said.
    “We can change that,” Carla said. “You have ten seconds to wipe down that bench, or I’ll revoke your membership.”
    Jack reluctantly returned to the weight bench and gave it a halfhearted swipe.
    “Thank you,” Debbi said. “It’s about time.” She forced a smile, but it looked like it hurt. That set of muscles was underused. Then she adjusted the weight bench and began a ferocious set of power sled chest flies.
    “Good thing those weights are made of metal and rubber,” Helen said. “Debbi is slamming them hard.”
    “I just hope the weights are the only things she hurts,” Carla said. “That woman scares me.”
    “She does have a temper,” Helen said.
    “She’s out of control,” Carla said. “Debbi is going to kill someone. I wish Derek would talk to her about her anger. As