Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Form and Flow Pilates occupied the ground floor of a converted brownstone two blocks from The Windsor, close enough that Wade could have walked to work in under five minutes.
We decided to leave the Tahoe parked at The Windsor and walk off the donuts.
The temperature was already in the mid-eighties and the humidity made me glad I’d decided to wear black pants and a sleeveless black top. If no one touched me, they’d have no idea that the fabric was glued to my skin.
Clouds had moved in, which was typical this time of year, and we’d probably get a brief afternoon shower. Which would give people just enough relief so they didn’t lose their minds and murder their neighbors.
“You doing okay?” Jack asked. “You’re looking kind of flushed.”
“Because I’m stewing in my own soup pot.”
“I just want to make sure you’re not going to pass out again. That scared ten years off my life.”
“Totally normal at this stage of pregnancy,” I said as we passed in front of the market Wade had shopped at the night before.
“I’m growing a human. The body takes time to adjust. And you caught me before I hit the ground.
You’re a hero.” I stopped in my tracks and Jack had to turn around to see why.
“Those peaches look good. We should get some.”
“We can stop on the way back,” he said. “We probably need more than peaches. I think Doug is coming back from visiting his mom. He wants to show Oscar the fireworks.”
Oscar was the newest member of our family. He was a dog with a lot of personality, zero pedigree, and no income. He’d shown up in our yard one day and never left, so we adopted him. Kind of like we had with Doug.
Jack pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call in a warrant for the studio while we walk. Might as well take a look around while we’re there.”
“And I’m going to window-shop,” I said. “Newcastle has really come a long way from when we were kids.”
He made the call while I looked at a window display of mannequins wearing trench coats and wide-brimmed red fedoras.
I wondered if Carmen Sandiego was about to make a comeback.
I could hear him talking to Martinez as we made our way down the sidewalk.
By the time we reached the corner he was finished with the call.
“How long?” I asked.
“A few minutes,” he said. “Martinez was already on top of things.”
Form and Flow Pilates was on the opposite corner next to a Salata. A lash salon, a blowout bar, and Vitalia Spa completed the block.
“That’s the medical spa Paige works at,” I said, pointing a couple of doors down.
“Convenient,” Jack said. “He picked a perfect spot for business.”
“No kidding. It’s like a rich girl’s paradise. Leave Pilates in your cute leotard and just make your way down the line of shops until you become a whole new person.”
The studio’s front windows were floor-to-ceiling glass, but the lobby was the only thing visible from the street.
A bamboo wall protected the workout area from prying eyes, along with a chest-high reception desk and an area where workout clothes and rows of socks were displayed.
Greenery balanced the space so it looked minimalist, but cozy.
Jack opened the door and I walked in ahead of him.
The studio smelled like bergamot and rubber and the faint ghost of exertion that no amount of ventilation could quite eliminate.
A class was already in session beyond the bamboo partition.
I could hear the soft whir of reformers and a woman’s voice counting through a sequence, while Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers.
The woman behind the reception desk looked up when we came in.
She was late forties, dark hair pulled back in a sleek knot, wearing black yoga pants and a fitted studio T-shirt with the Form and Flow Pilates logo on the chest. She was a pretty woman, with flawless, unlined skin, full lips, and the kind of face that didn’t match her age by a good decade.
I found myself wondering what kind of work she’d had done, though whatever it was it had been well done.
Her eyes were dark and steady, and there was a slight tension around her mouth.
“Sheriff Lawson,” Jack said, holding up his badge. “This is Dr. Graves. You have a few minutes?”
“Is this about Wade?” She came around the desk and shook our hands. “I’m the studio manager. Dana Ashworth. He’s never not come into work before without letting me know ahead of time. I’ve been really worried.”
“I’m sorry to tell you that Wade Rivers is dead,” Jack said softly, so no one behind the bamboo wall could hear him.
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re kidding,” she said. “There’s just no way Wade could be dead. I saw him yesterday when he left the studio. He was fine.”
“What time was that?” Jack asked.
“A little after six. That’s when the last class ended. I shut things down and we both left at the same time.”
“He say anything about meeting anyone?”
“No,” she said. “He headed toward his condo like usual, and I went to my car.”
“What’d you do when he didn’t show up this morning?” Jack asked.
“I usually get here around ten till seven,” she said.
“He’s always here before me. When I arrived the door was still locked and a couple of the women were waiting to get inside.
I unlocked the door and went about turning the lights and music on.
The closer it got to seven the more worried I started to get.
I sent a couple of texts to Wade, but he didn’t answer. ”
Her voice caught and she looked down at her hands, wringing them together.
“I went ahead and taught the seven o’clock class and pretended like everything was normal.
Technically, I’m not certified to teach, but I’m experienced enough to get through a class.
I’d texted Corinne when Wade didn’t answer me and asked her to come in and sub.
She’s one of our other instructors. She was able to get here in time to teach the eight o’clock class. ”
“Is there somewhere we can sit down and talk that’s more private?” Jack asked.
Something in Jack’s tone must have alerted her to the seriousness of the conversation.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s sit on the bench out front.
” She pointed out the front window. “I want to try and keep this under wraps from members for as long as I can. This is going to hit everyone hard. They all love Wade.”
There was a bench just to the right of the studio door, the kind with a scrolled back and a fresh coat of black paint. Dana sat on one end and I took the other. Jack stood at an angle so he could see both the street and Dana.
“How long have you been managing the studio?” Jack asked.
“Three years in October. Wade hired me about a year after he opened.” She looked down at her hands.
“He knew exactly what he was doing on the business side. He just didn’t want to be bothered with the day-to-day.
Scheduling, staffing, payroll, membership—that’s me.
He wanted to teach and run his private clients.
We have around four hundred members, but his private list was separate.
He’d teach some sessions here, some at his condo. ”
“Is that typical?” Jack asked. “Home sessions like that?”
“Sure,” she said. “There are some instructors who do house calls. They carry a reformer around in their car and set it up at each location. Wade just invested in his own system at home and had the clients come to him. Some clients just prefer the privacy.” She said it without inflection.
“Did he keep records of those clients?”
“If he did, it’s in his office.” She looked toward the door. “Most of our instructors teach outside the studio in their free time for extra money. I don’t have access to any of their personal clients. They might be on his office computer. Or maybe his phone.”
“Do you know anything about a confrontation here with Wade? A man came in and things got heated?”
She raised a brow at Jack. “You’ve gotten a lot of information in a short amount of time.”
“That’s our job,” Jack said. “Someone murdered Wade. We’re going to find out who did it.”
She sighed. “I was here when it happened. It’s been a few months. This guy comes in, kinda looks like a meathead. You know what I mean? Spends a lot of time in the gym? No neck, never read a book?”
“Yeah, I know the type,” Jack said.
“Anyway, he came in and asked for Wade by name. I could tell right off he was pissed. He was wound pretty tight. Looked like he was maybe on something. I called for Wade, had my phone out to call 911 if I needed to.”
“What’d Wade do?”
“Just smiled and asked the guy how he could help him, and for some reason that really set the guy off. He started yelling about how he knew Wade was screwing his wife and he had proof. Said if he touched her again he’d kill him.
” She crossed her arms as if the memory made her cold.
“Wade tried to move him toward the door, kept his voice low and professional. Said let’s step outside and talk about this.
The man wasn’t interested in stepping outside. He wanted a scene.”
“Sounds like he got one,” Jack said.
“There was a crowd. Class had just ended so the lobby was full from people leaving and the new class arriving. Plus a couple of the instructors. Wade told the guy if he didn’t leave he was going to call the police.
The man blustered a bit, but he ran out of steam pretty quick.
Eventually Wade just held the door open and the guy left.
He knocked over one of the sock racks on his way out the door and called Wade a few names I won’t repeat.
” She looked toward the street. “Wade went back to work like nothing happened and got everyone calmed down. Apologized to the clients for the disruption and comped their next class.”
“Did it shake Wade up? Was he worried?” Jack asked.