Brody & Hannigan 02 - Grand Theft Lotto by Paula Graves

Author:Paula Graves [Paula Graves]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Paula Graves
Published: 2013-10-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The Body Shop wasn't the high tech, shiny commercial gym that most urban consumers were used to. It was little more than a couple of boxing rings, a wall full of free weights, and about six well-worn weight benches equipped with barbells of varying sizes.

Most of the action seemed to be concentrated on the boxing rings when Hannigan entered through the glass-front entryway. The sparring faltered slowly to a stop as the gym's occupants began to take notice of the new arrivals.

Hannigan pulled her credentials from her jacket pocket. "Detectives Hannigan and Brody from the Weatherford Police Department. Who's in charge?"

The gym-goers didn't meet their eyes, nor look in any particular direction. Finally, from next to one of the rings in the back of the room, a short, lean-muscled man with dark skin and a blond Fu Manchu mustache walked with a slightly bow-legged swagger to the front of the gym.

"Can I help you, officers?"

"Detectives," Hannigan corrected, her voice firm but not confrontational. "Are you the proprietor?"

The man with the mustache grinned at the word choice. "I manage the place."

"Do you own it?" Brody asked.

The gym manager's brown eyes snapped up to Brody's face. "No."

"Who does?"

"I don't know," the man answered.

Hannigan brought out her notebook. "Your name?"

"Anton."

"First or last?"

"Anton Jones."

Hannigan flashed a quick glance at Brody. His eyebrows twitched upward.

"Do you have any identification?" she asked Anton Jones.

"Is there something wrong, offi—detectives?"

Brody pulled out a photograph of Dwayne Barlow that Marie had given them before they left her house the day before. "This man was a member."

Anton shook his head.

"He wasn't a member?" Hannigan pressed.

"We don't have members," Anton answered with a smug grin, his gaze taking in Brody's expensive suit and silk tie. "Believe me, Poindexter, this ain't your daddy's gym."

"People don't have to pay to use the equipment and facilities?" Brody pressed.

Anton laughed aloud. "Facilities? You mean the rings and the benches? Yeah, people pay. Cover charge of two bucks, plus a dollar for each set of equipment used." He pointed toward the window behind them. "I believe you two owe me four bucks just for walking in here."

Hannigan looked at the window and saw, painted in temporary window paint, "Two dollar cover charge. Don't come in without the cash."

"Got it," Brody murmured, fishing four dollars from his wallet and handing it to Anton.

"You never did show me any identification," Hannigan said.

Anton shoved the four dollars into the pocket of his boxing shorts and looked at her, giving her a thorough visual once-over. "No, I didn't."

"Reckon you could do it now?" she asked, letting her redneck accent come out to play a little. She saw Anton's eyes widen slightly at the twang.

His lip curling in a half smile, he nodded his head for them to follow him and head for a narrow door in the side of the main room. Through the door sat a small, cluttered office with a single desk, a phone and two banged-up metal file cabinets against the wall. Anton closed the door behind him and reached into the drawer of the desk and produced a worn, brown leather wallet.

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