it anyway. It won’t kill you.” Ness’s lips unfolded in a half smile. “Poor choice of words, I guess.”
Marge returned his expression with a half smile of her own. “Drink mine for me, bro. I’ve already tanked up on guava juice.”
Ness broke into unexpected laughter. “I detect sarcasm. You know that cynicism is a prime toxin builder, Detective.”
“So is assault.”
Ness grew serious. “What happened to Lilah last night?”
“She was attacked.”
“Was she raped?”
“A full report hasn’t been filed yet. Do you know anything about it?”
“Me? Not a clue.”
Marge studied his face. There was some concern but he wasn’t overdoing it. Good eye contact. Didn’t seem real fidgety. Either he wasn’t worried about his ass or he was a top-notch psychopath. “How do you get along with Lilah?”
“I adore her.” He smiled slowly. “As a friend. She’s the greatest boss I’ve ever had. Lets me make my own hours, great about giving me time off. The pay here isn’t great, I’ve gotta be honest. But when you factor in the perks—free room and board—the paycheck isn’t as small as it looks on paper. This isn’t the job I want to do all my life, but it’s a great pit stop.”
Mr. Sincere.
Marge asked, “How long have you worked for her?”
“I came on about eight months ago.” Ness finished one cup of broth, crunched the paper cup in his hand. “My sister brought me over, actually. She’s worked here close to two years and loves her job. Kelley’s a great kid, but she worries too much about me. I was unemployed about a year ago. Didn’t bother me, but it drove her crazy. She talked me into coming here. More like dragged me over. But I’m not sorry. Like I said, the position is okay until I figure out what I want to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I sure as hell wouldn’t mind owning a place like this,” Ness said, wistfully. “But since that doesn’t seem likely in the future, I’d like to have enough clients to support myself as a personal trainer. You build up lots of contacts here. I’ve already filled up Tuesday and Saturday evenings with people. Lilah’s really good about that, she gives me the time off. But as of this moment I don’t have enough of a client load—enough income—to make ends meet on my own.”
“Did you meet your clients at the spa?”
“Sure, most of them. A few of the recent ones are referrals. See, that’s how the ball gets rolling.”
“Lilah doesn’t mind you stealing business?”
“I don’t steal business—”
“If you train women at home, who needs the spa?”
Ness slowly took a sip of his second cup of broth. “It doesn’t work that way, Detective. The spa and I are synergistic. We feed off of each other. Look around. Most of the women you see here are in terrific shape. They come here for peace and quiet and want a safe environment to relax where they won’t gain weight. Sure we have some men here—mostly husbands whose wives asked them along—but the majority of our clientele is female. They can hang out without feeling that some guy is going to hit on them.”
“That how Ms. Betham felt?”
“I knew you were going to bring that up,” Ness said. “You ever meet Miz Betham?”
“No.”
“She’s around fifty and has a face like a pineapple. Now I have nothing against ugly people except when they give me troubles. I don’t know what her problem is, but she isn’t going to bring me down. I hope the garbage she’s saying isn’t giving you funny ideas about me. I don’t hit on women. And I certainly wouldn’t ever do anything to Lilah. You haven’t told me too much about that.”
“Lilah will be okay,” Marge said. “If she wants to tell you about it in detail, I’m sure she will.”
“She know who attacked her?”
Marge was silent.
“Probably not,” Ness said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be questioning me. Ask me anything you want. I’ll do anything to help you find the bastard who hurt her.”
“You like her a lot.”
“I told you, I adore her.”
“But just as a friend.”
“Yep.”
“Was there ever anything sexual between you and her?”
“No. Not that I’d mind, but …”
Marge waited.
“I guess I’m not her type.”
“Who’s her type?”
“Lilah’s?” Ness paused. “Wouldn’t know. I once heard she’d been married. I try not to delve too deeply into my boss’s affairs. I think that makes a lot of sense.”
“Were you here at the spa yesterday, Mike?”
“Yesterday was what? Sunday? Yep, I was here. I attended the seven o’clock lecture. Honestly, I don’t even remember what it was on. They blur. Afterward, I worked out for an hour by myself. Then I drank a little herbal tea with some of the ladies.” He smiled. “You know, trying to drum up a little business. I went to bed around eleven, maybe it was closer to twelve.”
“Did you see Lilah anytime during the evening?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was she at the lecture?”
“Was she? I don’t remember. My sister, Kelley, might know. She’s the one who’s good with details.”
“So no one can verify where you were between the hours of twelve and seven.”
“Nope. No one. ’Cause I was sleeping by my little lonesome.” Ness shrugged. “Is Lilah unconscious or something? Otherwise, why are you questioning me? She could tell you I didn’t do anything to her.”
“She’s conscious.”
Ness nodded. “That’s good. So just ask her—”
“We intend to question her extensively when she’s feeling better. In the meantime, we haven’t ruled anyone out. You know anyone who might have a bone to pick with Lilah? A disgruntled employee, maybe?”
Ness shook his head. “Everyone loves her. Never heard anyone say a bad word … except … well, he didn’t say anything bad about her. He didn’t say anything about her … which was odd.”
Marge looked at him.
“About two, three months ago, a guy claiming to be Lilah’s brother came here,” Ness said. “Actually he wanted to see Davida because it was her birthday. He had a gift. No one was around. He left the present at reception and split.”
“That was it?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” Ness said. “I’d never seen the guy before. He hasn’t been back since. I know how close Lilah is to Freddy. It just struck me as odd that this ‘brother’ would be such a mystery man. He was quite a bit older than her or Freddy. Looked to be in his middle forties. Strange.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t remember it. I do remember it was a blueblood name, though—like Thurston Howell the Third or something.”
“Does the name King ring a bell?”
He