Free Zigzag by Bill Pronzini Page B

hell of a lot of hard work. Well, no pain, no gain, as they say.
    True to the receptionist’s word, Conner Jacklin was less than ten minutes late for our appointment. He came out of an area at the rear filled with more customers sweating away on total body elliptical crosstrainers and the like, greeted me with a professional smile and a hearty handshake, and managed not to look disapproving as he eyed my somewhat expansive midsection. He was also the picture of twentysomething health, of course, in a pair of white ducks and a tight white T-shirt. You could have used the word Adonis to describe him with some justification. Sculpted body with bulging pecs and biceps, blond hair cut short, blue eyes, and chiseled features. Just the type of stud a young, hot-blooded rich girl would find irresistible.
    He didn’t seem quite so perfect to me, however. Maybe it was a male jealousy thing, but I didn’t like him on sight. There was a shine in his blue-eyed gaze, a self-satisfied set to his mouth and jaw, the suggestion of a swagger in his manner even when he was standing still—all indicators, to my professional eye, that he was full of himself, none too intelligent, and the possessor of predatory instincts.
    He said it was a pleasure to meet me, which was probably a lie, and welcomed me to EverYoung with a little programmed speech about helping to achieve whatever my personal goals might be. After which he asked the same question the young woman at the desk had asked. I looked him straight in the eye and gave him the same answer.
    His reaction to Melanie Joy Holloway’s name was to lose the smile, his lips pulling into a tight line. I watched him struggle to regain his professional composure, then prodded him off balance again by saying, “She’s the reason I’m here, but it’s not to sign up for an exercise program. I have a few questions about your relationship with her.”
    â€œWhy? What for? Who’re you?”
    I let him see the photostat of my license. The confused look on his handsome face confirmed my opinion of his mental acuity. “What the hell?” he said in a lowered voice. “I haven’t seen Mel in more than a year. You want the truth, I hope I never see her again.”
    â€œIs there someplace private we can talk?”
    â€œâ€¦ Huh?”
    â€œToo public out here, wouldn’t you say?”
    â€œI just told you—” He wagged his head as if to clear it. The young woman at the desk was watching us; Jacklin saw that, too, and it made up his mind for him. “Yeah, okay. Follow me.”
    I trailed him into the rear of the building, through the weight and exercise room, and through an open door. Massage room: metal table, towels on racks, glass-doored cabinet full of emoluments, curtained alcove for changing in privacy. The mingled smells of body oils, disinfectant, and stale sweat assumed miasmic proportions when Jacklin shut the door.
    â€œListen,” he said, turning toward me, “if that bitch is in trouble again, you’re talking to the wrong guy. I don’t know anything about it.”
    â€œBitch, Mr. Jacklin?”
    â€œYou heard me right. Bitch plain and simple.”
    â€œWas she in some kind of trouble when the two of you were together?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIn trouble again, you said. Again.”
    â€œMel was always in some kind of trouble back then.”
    â€œWhat kind, specifically? With the law?”
    â€œNah, nothing like that.” He gnawed on his lower lip with the sort of bright white teeth you see in dental ads. “What’s this all about, anyway? You working for Melanie’s father or something?”
    â€œI can’t tell you that. Privileged information.”
    â€œYeah, well, it’s going on two years since I laid eyes on her. I don’t get how what happened that long ago has to do with me.”
    â€œProbably nothing,” I said. “I’m just gathering