Greg Herren - Murder in the Rue Ursulines

“Sorry. Christ, man.” He gripped my hand hard before letting go. He stood a little taller than six feet, I estimated, and had to weigh in excess of two hundred pounds. His blonde hair was buzzed down almost to the scalp. He had vibrant blue eyes. He was wearing a gray Bodytech T-shirt with the sleeves cut off deeply so that it barely covered his chest. The deep cut of the shirt exposed his thick lat muscles. His tan arms were lined with veins. His muscles were thick and deeply defined. He sported a golden tan. He looked to be in his early forties, I judged by the lines from his eyes and mouth. When he smiled again, deep dimples sank into his cheeks. “You know, when I saw your name in the appointment book I wondered if you were really the guy I saw on television this morning.”

“Well, the odds against there being two Chanse MacLeods in New Orleans are pretty high.” I replied. “Not exactly a common name.”

“No, it’s not. Have a seat.” he gestured toward the chair. He sat down behind the desk again. “So, what can I do for you?” He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized my body. “You’re pretty solid and in pretty good shape already. What kind of changes are you thinking about making?” He thought for a moment. “I’d recommend trimming down a bit-you’re a big guy. Maybe get a bit leaner? Or do you want to really pack on some muscle size? The shape you’re in, either would be relatively easy to pull off with the right program and diet.”

“I don’t need a trainer.” I replied. Might as well put my cards on the table, I figured. “I’m here about the Glynis Parrish murder.” I watched his face.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His face was expression-less. “I kind of figured that’s what this was.” He set his jaw. “I told the police everything I know. And it’s not cool to make an appointment under false pretenses. I’m pretty busy.”

“That’s smart.” I said. “You should always cooperate with the cops.” I pulled my wallet out and placed it on the desk. “I’m prepared to pay you for your time. I made an appointment for an hour with a trainer.”

He laughed. “Fifty bucks? That buys you a workout for an hour. Not a conversation about one of my other clients.” He leaned forward and smirked. “I got three tabloids willing to pay me ten grand to tell them everything I know about Glynis. Why should I tell you for fifty bucks?””

“Okay. Suit yourself.” I put my wallet back in my pocket. “I guess I’ll wait and read what you have to say in line at the grocery store.” I stood up.

“Wait.”

I turned and looked at him. He stared at my face. “What you said on TV-about why you got beat up-was that true?”

I nodded. “As far as I know, yeah.”

“Do you think-“ he swallowed. “I might be in danger?”

I managed not to smile in triumph. I sat back down. “That depends on what you know. You sure you don’t want a tabloid payday?” I leaned back in my chair and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. He swallowed. “Just because I talk to you doesn’t mean I still can’t sell my story to them.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, I don’t really know that much, to tell you the truth. About the murder, I mean.” Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “I trained Glynis in the mornings, five days a week. On the days when she had an early call, I had to be there at five. The days she didn’t have to be on set, I was there at seven. She always woke up early. She said it was a holdover from the television show-she had to always be up early and her body never adjusted.”

“Were you there the day she died?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “Yeah, I was there that morning.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about her that day? Did she seem different in any way?”

“No. She was the same as she always was. Wide awake and ready to go. She was a great client that way-she never complained, never cancelled, and was always ready to work hard. She was into her workouts. I commented on it once and she just said, ‘I have to look great if I want to work.’” He smiled. “We had that in common.” He shifted in his chair, and every muscle in his upper body flexed. “My body is my best advertisement. If I don’t look great, who’s going to hire me? She was the same way.”

“Did she ever talk about anything personal with you?” Allen had once told me that trainers were like therapists in a way. You pay someone for their attention for an hour, and you start telling them things you didn’t even tell your closest friends.

“Never.” He shook his head. “When we worked out, it was always about exercise, her diet, things like that. I was her trainer, nothing more.”

“But you were sleeping with her.”

His eyes bugged out. “What?” His face turned red. “Where on earth did you hear that?” He started laughing. “Dude, I am not into women. I haven’t slept with a woman since high school.” He whistled. “Not even the cops threw that one at me. Seriously. Who told you that?”

“You’re gay.” I said. As the truth of the matter hit me, I realized I knew why he looked familiar-he was one of the dick dancers at the Pub. I’d seen him there, up on the bar, shaking his ass for dollars. But Rosemary had been very definite that Brett and Glynis were sleeping together. I remembered the look of distaste on her face when she’d told me.

“Yes, I’m gay.” He spread his arms apologetically-still managing to flex every muscle as he did so. I was beginning to see what Davina had meant.

“Rosemary said-“

“That one?” He interrupted me, making a face. “Please. You can’t believe anything that crazy bitch says.” He spat the words out.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, she’s a freak, man.” He shrugged. “She was always coming in during our sessions, for one thing. It drove me crazy, her always interrupting like that.” He laughed. “Even if I was straight, there was no way I could have been fucking Glynis during our sessions. Rosemary never left us alone long enough for that, you know what I mean? We would have had to do it in like five minutes or less.” He grinned at me. “And I take longer than five minutes.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Arrogant was putting it mildly.

He went on, “And she was overly friendly-even though I made it clear to her that I was gay from the very beginning. You know how some women never seem to get the message?”

“What do you mean by overly friendly?”

He sighed. “You know what I mean-I’m sure you get it too. You know, straight women who always talk about your muscles, how hot you are, wanting me to flex for her…I mean, at first it was flattering, I can’t say that it’s not. I kind of felt sorry for her-Glynis seemed to really keep her hopping. She told me she was relatively new in town, didn’t know anyone, so I kind of always tried to be nice to her. But it was like she took my being nice the wrong way. She started buying me presents. At first, it was just kind of sweet, you know what I mean? Nothing inappropriate, just really nice stuff, like she always had the kind of protein bars I liked. She would have a protein shake ready for me when Glynis and I were finished. She would call me all the time-on the stupidest pretext, like always to verify my appointment times and stuff like that, which didn’t make a lot of sense, because I always did that with Glynis every day before I left. I’m a professional, you know? But at first, it was kind of sweet. I figured she was just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Then it started getting really weird.” He hesitated. “She bought me underwear-which was weird enough-and then would say something like, ‘would love to see you in it’…you know that kind of thing. Would I pose nude for her?” He shook his head. “It started really creeping me out. I let it go as long as I could. Finally this week I told her she had to stop buying me things and calling me all the time. And then she turned on me. She told Glynis I’d said some inappropriate things to her.”