Creation in Death (In Death #25)(36)

“Place to start.”

H e knew how to blend. He knew how to make himself inconspicuous, so that eyes passed over him without notice. It was a skill he put to good use during the research phase of any project.

He used it now as he watched her—Eve Dallas—stride out of the apartment building, down the street. Ground-eating strides. Loose and busy. Strong.

He very much approved of strong women—physically and mentally.

She’d been strong. The Eve of all the others. The mother. She’d been very strong, he remembered, but he believed this Eve—this last Eve—would be stronger than any who had come before.

Not time for you yet, he thought as he watched her, watched the way she moved. Not quite time for this Eve. But when it was, oh…

He believed she would be his finest work to date. A new level of excellence. And the pinnacle of all he’d accomplished.

But for now, there was another who required his attention.

He really should get home to her.

T he manager of BodyWorks was a six-foot Asian with a body like molded steel. He went by the name of Pi. He wore a black skin-suit and a small, trim goatee.

“Like I told the other cops, it was just another day. Gia had her classes, her clients. I gave them the client list. Do you need—”

“No, they have it. Thanks for cooperating.”

He dropped down into a chair in his office, a glass box that allowed him to view all the areas on that level of the center. Outside it, people pumped, sweated, trotted, flexed, and twisted.

“We’re pals, you know? I can’t get through the idea something may have happened to her. But I’m telling you, she can take care of herself. That’s what I think. She’s tough.”

“Anybody ask for her specifically in the last few weeks?” Eve asked him.

“Yeah, like I told the other guys. She’d get referrals from clients. Word of mouth. She’s good at what she does, gets results, but doesn’t drill sergeant the client into it.”

“How about older guys, say over sixty?”

“Sure. Sure. Fitness isn’t just for kids, you know. She has some clients like that, and we get them in for classes. She runs a tai chi class twice a week, a yoga class every other morning geared for the over-sixty group. Twice a week she has classes geared for the centennials.”

“She pick up anybody new in any of those in the last few weeks?”

“Like I told the others, if you’re a member you don’t have to sign up for any of the classes. You just come in, take whichever you want.”

“How about anybody who joined in, say, the last thirty days. Male, over fifty, let’s say.”

“I can get you that. But you don’t have to have joined at this location. If you hold a membership from any of our clubs—that’s global—you just key in.”

“You have a record of who’s keyed in? You keep track of how your members use the facilities, how often they use them, who pays the fee for a trainer?”

“Sure. Sure. That kind of data goes straight to the main offices. But I can—”

“I can get that,” Eve told him. “No problem. Did she take outside clients?”

“That’s against policy,” he began.

“We’re not worried about policy, Pi. She’s not going to get jammed up if she pulled in some extra on the side. We want to find her.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she did.” He puffed out his cheeks, blew out the air. “Somebody’s willing to pay you stiff for going to their house for an hour a couple times a week, it’s hard to flip it. We’re pals, but I’m management. She knows I know, and like that, but we don’t talk about it. Not really.”

“How about a sense, since you were pals, if she took on a private client recently?”

He puffed out his cheeks again. “She sprang for Knicks tickets—courtside. We’re going to the game next week. My birthday. Son of a bitch.” He smoothed his hands over his shaved head. “Pretty much out of her range. She joked, said she’d hit a little jackpot. I figured she’d gotten a side fee, a couple of them maybe.”

“When did she get the tickets?”

“A few weeks ago. Look, you need to find her, okay? You just need to find her.”

8

OUTSIDE, EVE WALKED THE ROUTE GIA HABITUALLY took to the subway. The woman was a New Yorker, Eve mused. Which meant she’d move along at a brisk pace, and though her radar would be on, she’d be inside her own thoughts.

Might be a window-shopper, Eve thought. Might stop and study a display, even go inside a shop. But…

“Baxter and Trueheart checked out the stores and markets along the route,” she said to Peabody. “Nobody remembers seeing her that day. Some clerks recognized her picture. Previous visits. But not on the day she poofed.”

“She didn’t make it to the station.”

“No. Maybe she wasn’t going to the station.” Eve turned, sidestepping toward the buildings as New York bustled by. “Had extra dough, enough for a pair of courtsides. She takes an outside client. Maybe the client’s address is within walking distance. Or he provided cab fare or transportation.”

And considering this, she factored in Baxter’s point about the potential age difference, and the fact that Gia Rossi had been a trainer, in peak physical condition.