CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Jessie wasn't sure if this was a gym or a dance club.

When they walked into the small lobby of Crest Fitness, 1990s-era techno music was blasting over the speakers. They passed four stunning, impossibly fit young women. They were each of different ethnicities and wore different colored tights and sports bras, but they shared one thing in common: they were sweating profusely.

Jessie and Ryan did their best to maneuver through the obstacle course comprised of bombshells to get to the receptionist, who greeted them with a thin, unconvincing smile. Behind her in the glassed-in workout studio, Jessie saw Crest toweling off his shirtless torso.

The man was unquestionably a looker. Tall, with light brown hair and brown eyes, his skin was bronzed, and he had what looked like eight-pack abs. Jessie could see why he was popular, even without any special talent as a trainer.

"May I help you," the receptionist yelled over the music.

"Yes," Ryan said, holding up his badge, "we need to talk to Mr. Crest."

"What?" she shouted.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Ryan asked, leaning in.

She nodded and lowered volume enough so that Jessie could at least hear her own thoughts.

"We need to talk to Mr. Crest," Ryan repeated.

"Oh," she said hesitantly, "he doesn't usually do meet and greets right after a session. He needs time to recuperate."

"I have no doubt," Ryan said, staying impressively unfazed by the lack of cooperation, "but this isn't a meet and greet. We're the police and we need to speak with him now. So we're just going to head back."

"Um," the receptionist said, starting to stand up before changing her mind, "okay, I guess."

They got to the locked door, and the young woman buzzed them in. Ryan entered first and Jessie followed behind, keeping a low profile to better note how Crest would react to this invasion of his private space. At first, he seemed oblivious to them, flexing his forearm lovingly as he blew some of his hair out of his face .

"Julian Crest," Ryan said, "I'm Dete—."

"You can set up an appointment with Carla," Crest interrupted, without even looking up. "I don't do walk-in evals and I definitely don't do them after a video session. But thanks for your interest."

"I'm afraid that's not going to work for us," Ryan told him firmly. "We're with LAPD."

The trainer finished toweling off his damp hair, then squinted first at Ryan, then at Jessie.

"I'm cool giving a discount for law enforcement," he said "But like I told you, Carla handles all the appointments. Besides you look like you're doing fine, buddy. And your partner there doesn't look like she needs a trainer, although I'm happy to give her an initial private session for free. She's bangin'."

"As flattering as that is to hear," Jessie replied drily, jumping in before Ryan could, "we're not here to schedule training sessions. We have a few questions for you related to some work we're doing. Do you know Chloe Baptiste?"

Of course, she already knew the answer, but seeing how he chose to provide it could prove instructive. Crest moved over to the nearby bench and grabbed his shirt. He turned away as he put it on, so Jessie couldn't see his face.

"I wouldn't usually talk about current or former clients, because of trainer-patient privilege, but you obviously know that I know her, or you wouldn't be here," he said. "Terrible what happened to her. I saw it on the news."

Jessie was still processing the use of the term "trainer-patient privilege," which most definitely wasn't a thing, but Ryan managed to move past it to ask his first question.

"How well did you know her?" he pressed.

Crest turned around.

"I don't like the tone of that question," he said belligerently.

"Mr. Crest," Ryan replied. "I'm not really interested in what you do or don't like. We're investigating a murder. So how about you be straight with us?"

Crest looked like he wanted to snap back but managed to restrain himself when he answered.

"If you're asking if I was sleeping with Chloe, the answer is no," he said. "There might have been some sparks, but she was married to this super-rich guy and there was no way she was going to risk messing things up with that golden goose. "

"But you did get involved with some other clients, right?" Jessie asked.

"Why do you assume that?" he asked defensively.

"Come on, Julian, a good-looking guy like you," she said, "lots of up close and personal sweating. I'm sure there were tons of ‘sparks.'"

The guy flashed a cocky smile.

"Maybe on occasion," he conceded.

"I heard you had a thing with that super-model, Isabella Moreno," she said. "Is that true?"

"A gentleman never kisses and tells," he replied.

"That sounds like a yes to me," Jessie said.

"I didn't say that," Crest retorted, suddenly combative, "don't try to get me in a jam. Besides, my personal affairs are none of your business, lady, no matter how long your legs are."

Jessie felt Ryan tense up next to her, though he said nothing. He clearly understood that she was getting somewhere and didn't want to upend that.

"I appreciate the gentlemanly assessment," she said, "but I can't help but notice that you're really defensive when it comes to Isabella. Why is that? Were things not consensual?"

"Hey," he protested, "what the hell? You can't come in here making accusations like that."

"Where were you today between 11 a.m. and noon, Julian?" she asked, undaunted.

"Probably nailing some chick who's hotter than you," he spat, "now I've had enough of this. You can go."

Ryan decided to make a contribution to the conversation. "This is serious business, Mr. Crest, and my partner asked you a serious question. We need a serious answer."

Crest looked at him, then over at Jessie, before returning his attention to the detective.

"Here's your serious answer," he finally said. "Screw you!"

Ryan sighed.

"That's not a serious answer either, Mr. Crest," he said with disappointment in his voice. "I'm afraid you're not giving us much choice but to take you in and get our answers back at the station. None of us want that, so I'm going to give you one last opportunity to be forthcoming—. "

"You don't want to mess with me," Crest said, assuming a fighting position with his fists up, "I know my rights. You come at me in here without a warrant and I'll bust you up and be justified in doing it."

"None of that is true, Mr. Crest," Ryan told him calmly.

"Of course you'd say that," the trainer retorted, unconvinced.

Ryan looked over at Jessie. She could see that he was half-annoyed that it had come to this, but also party enthused at the opportunity to take this jerk down.

"You got my back?" he asked.

"Always," she told him.

"Julian Crest," Ryan said, taking a step forward, "I'm taking you into custody on suspicion of murder. Please don't resist arrest, or I'll have to add that to the charge sheet."

"Come at me, bro," Crest barked, weaving back and forth. Then, choosing not to actually wait for the detective to come at him, he lunged wildly at Ryan, slamming into his chest and propelling him against the back wall of the studio. Even though it was padded, the collision was violent.

Jessie was just starting to move in their direction when Ryan, still pinned against the wall, extended his arms outward and then forcefully brought them together, boxing both of Crest's ears. The trainer released his grip and stumbled backward, stunned.

Ryan looked over at Jessie and shook his head to indicate that she shouldn't intervene. Then he took a step forward so that he was within striking distance of the other man. Crest, having mostly regrouped, lashed out, swinging hard with his right fist. Ryan, no longer taking anything for granted, blocked it easily with his left forearm, then gave the trainer a swift punch to his formidable solar plexus.

Crest gasped and doubled over, grabbing at his stomach as Ryan darted behind him and kicked him in the back of his left leg. The man dropped to his knees. Almost too quickly for Jessie to process, Ryan had removed his handcuffs, yanked Crest's left arm behind his back, and snapped a cuff on his wrist. The trainer started to struggle, but before he knew it, his right wrist was cuffed to the left one. Ryan grabbed the man's shoulders and tugged him upright.

"You weren't much help," he told Jessie.

"You didn't seem to need any," she replied.

"I know my rights," Crest managed to huff now that he'd gotten some of his breath back. "This is entrapment. "

"That doesn't even make sense," Jessie told him. "I would have thought that your experience with the legal system during that whole statutory rape thing would have been a decent primer on how things work but apparently not."

"What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded, before he seemed to grasp what Ryan had told him earlier. "Wait, did you say suspicion of murder before?"

"Yeah," Ryan told him as he guided him through the glass doors of the studio into the lobby, "you didn't seem all that surprised in the moment."

"I wasn't really listening, man," he objected. "You can't be serious."

"You're cuffed, Mr. Crest, so I'm pretty serious."

"That's some crap," the man objected before turning his attention to the baffled receptionist. "Carla, call my lawyer."

"I don't know who your lawyer is," she said.

"Then call my mother," he told her. "She'll get ahold of him. Where are you taking me?"

"Central Station," Ryan said.

"Where's that?" he demanded, "like Central West Hollywood?"

"No, Julian," Jessie said as she held open the gym's front door so Ryan could guide him through. "West Hollywood is like Kansas compared to where you're going. And we're not in Kansas anymore. We're going downtown."