Page 16 of The Perfect Illusion (Jessie Hunt #39)
Jessie was impressed.
Brady was leaning into the slob energy with reckless abandon.
And it was having the desired effect. He’d started even before they found Moran, when pulling up to the valet station at the front of the Santa Monica Country Club, which was on its own compound on a cliffside overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
The valet pointed them in the right direction. As they entered the lobby, the sound of their rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the Carrara marble-tiled floor got the attention of a man in a full suit speaking to a member near the entrance to the club café. The man scurried over to them quickly.
“Lay it on thick,” Jessie muttered to Brady. “We want to make a scene. That way, Moran will hopefully talk just to get rid of us.”
“Hello,” the suited man whispered breathlessly as he sidled up next to them. “My name is Cal. I’m the club manager. How may I help you?”
“Yeah,” Brady said loudly, seeming to jut his already abundant belly out even further than normal, “we’re looking for the gym. Your valet pointed down the hall to the left. That right?”
“It is,” Cal assured him, “However our gym facilities are intended exclusively for club members and their guests.”
“How do you know I’m not a member?” Brady demanded belligerently as he started down the hallway. “That’s pretty rude, don’t you think?”
Jessie had to jog to keep up with him, as did Cal.
“Sir, I apologize if that’s the case,” he said. “But I do pride myself on knowing most members on sight. Perhaps we’ve just missed each other. If I could just see your membership card, that should clear everything up.”
“That’s okay, Cal,” Brady said, pointing out the door to the gym to Jessie. “I forgive you for your classist assumption. Me and my lady friend are just going to check out the facilities. No need for an escort.”
He started to open the gym door, but Cal pushed it closed.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but I must insist that you either show me your membership card or leave the club facilities. Of course, I'm happy to take you back to the office where we can discuss membership pricing options."
Brady stared at the man, dead-eyed.
“Cal,” he growled, using a tone Jessie had rarely heard from the happy-go-lucky-detective, “you’re going to want to take you hand off the door.”
Cal left his hand there for another second, then seemed to think better of it. He stepped back and adjusted his suit jacket.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to involve security, sir,” he said huffily.
“You go get ‘em, Cal,” Brady said. “We’ll be in here.”
He opened the door for Jessie. She stepped inside quickly, trying to hide the smile on her face.
“How’d I do?” he asked.
“Great,” she told him. “Hopefully we can find Moran before Cal comes back with security. I want us to be with him when they arrive, so as to really amp up the embarrassment factor for him.”
“Then we better move quick,” Brady said. “Cal’s got a real bee in his bonnet. He’ll be back soon.”
They walked up to the reception desk, where an attractive young blonde sat, wearing a confused expression. She must have seen the dustup at the doorway.
“We’re looking for Benjamin Moran,” Brady told her. “Where can we find him?”
“Um, I saw him pass by from the free weight section over to cardio a couple of minutes ago,” she said, pointing to an area directly behind her. “But I think I’m supposed to ask for your membership card.”
“Don’t have it on me today,” he said. “Maybe next time.”
He headed back to the cardio area. As Jessie followed him, she whispered to the receptionist, “thanks for your help.”
The cardio room was full of people on ellipticals, stationary bikes, and treadmills, but they found Moran without much trouble.
He was on the treadmill closest to the doorway, pounding his legs as he ran at what Jessie considered near-sprinting pace.
The 34-year-old was in great shape, well-toned, with bronzed skin and light brown hair that flopped slightly with each footfall.
Sweat was flying off him and splattering the machine's display. Brady glanced at Jessie.
“Am I still keeping up the obnoxious jerk routine with the guy?”
“If anything, I’d say now’s the time to take it to the next level,” she suggested.
“You got it,” he said and walked over so that he was right in front of Moran’s treadmill.
“Hi, Benji,” he said. “You should take a break. We need to talk.”
Moran gave him a disdainful glare, unsure what to make of this random, slovenly dude now in his eyeline.
“I don’t know you,” he grunted breathlessly. “So don’t call me Benji. And also, screw off.”
He turned his attention back to the display screen, perhaps calculating how this brief interruption had messed with his pace.
“Benji, you can stop running or I can stop the machine for you,” Brady said loud enough to be heard over the spinning treadmill belt and Moran’s heavy strides. He seemed to really be getting into his role now. “It’s up to you.”
The people on the nearby machines were starting to take notice of the growing conflict, just as Jessie had hoped.
Behind them, she heard a bit of commotion.
Glancing back, she saw Cal, with two security guards, standing at the reception desk.
The young blonde was pointing them back to the cardio room.
“Cal’s back,” she said under her breath. “I’ll deal with him while you pull the plug on the treadmill. Then it’s showtime.”
As Brady moved to literally pull the treadmill cord out of its wall outlet, Jessie turned and headed for the cardio room entrance. She met Cal just as he was trying to enter. He opened his mouth, clearly about to read her the riot act, when she held up her ID in front of her face.
"We're LAPD, Cal," she said sweetly. "We're here to have a conversation with Benjamin Moran, and we're so happy to have your support. I'm sure we can count on the assistance of your security officers if Mr. Moran gets testy."
Cal stopped in his tracks, his mouth frozen open, unable to come up with a response. Behind her, Jessie heard the belt of the treadmill slowly come to a stop. That was followed by angry words from Moran.
“What the hell is your problem, man?” he demanded through gasps for air.
Jessie turned around to see the sweaty lawyer extricating himself from the treadmill and moving toward Brady, who waited until the very last second before holding up his badge.
“Thanks for taking the time, Mr. Moran,” he said crisply, his tone now professional even if his appearance still wasn’t. “We need to have a word with you.”
Moran looked at the badge, then at Jessie standing behind him with Cal and the guards nearby. He turned around to see that nearly everyone in the cardio room had stopped their own machines and was watching intently. Wiping the sweat off his brow with a white towel, he sighed heavily.
“You’re trying to embarrass me at my club,” he said, still breathing heavily. “Why?”
“We certainly didn’t mean to embarrass you, Mr. Moran,” Brady said with a broad smile. “We just need to talk with you and this is where you are, so this is where we came.”
“What’s this about?”
“Do you want to talk about that here, in front of your fellow members?” Brady asked. “Or would you rather join us somewhere more private, where any unsavory details can be more closely held.”
“I don’t have anything to hide,” he said, now pointedly looking at Jessie with a shark-like grin. “What you see is what you get.”
“I guess we’re not getting much then,” Jessie mocked, engaging him directly for the first time. “And I’m not sure your clients would like you being so chatty in front of the general public.”
Moran seemed to weigh that point before replying.
“You know, I don’t think I want to be chatty under any circumstances,” he snarled. “So I’m just going to cut my workout short, take a shower, and head into the office. You two enjoy your day.”
He started to leave the cardio room, but Jessie stepped in front of him. She tried to ignore the sudden urge to punch him in the nose.
“We’re having a conversation one way or another, Mr. Moran,” she told him. “It can be here or down at the station. Which do you prefer?”
“Neither,” he said, as he tried to slide past her.
Unfortunately for him, he slightly misjudged the space between them and clipped her left shoulder with his left arm.
Under normal circumstances, Jessie would have used this bump as an excuse to take out his knee, drop him to the ground, and pin him while she slapped on some cuffs.
But considering that he was an attorney, she fought down the desire and went another way.
She allowed the mild force of their collision to send her “flying” backward as she toppled to the ground, landing on her butt. Moran stopped in his tracks.
“That was an accident,” he said quickly. “I was just trying to get by.”
“Actually,” Brady said, whipping out his own handcuffs, “that was battery. Now we’re definitely chatting at the station.”
He slapped the cuffs on Moran before the man realized what was happening. Jessie, playing into the scenario, moaned dramatically as she rubbed her lower back.
“Are you all right, miss?” Cal asked, scurrying over and helping her to her feet.
Moran’s expression morphed into a combination of disdain and fear.
“I’m not sure,” she said shakily as she slowly stood up. She winced as she straightened her back. “Oh wow, that smarts.”
“You’re just playing it up so you can bring me in,” Moran objected as he struggled against the cuffs.
“She wouldn’t do that,” Brady snarled. “Blame the victim much?”
Jessie looked pleadingly at Cal.
“Do you think one of your security officers could help me back to my car,” she pleaded. “I’m feeling a little uncertain of my footing.”
Though he clearly didn’t buy her act, Moran stopped struggling against Brady. He seemed to sense that there was no point.
“Of course,” Cal said. “Marco, can you please assist the lady?”
As Marco took her forearm and eased her out of the cardio room, Jessie glanced back. Benjamin Moran was staring at the floor, muttering something to himself. But Brady was looking at her with a big smile on his face. He was very proud of himself, as he should be.
Jessie gave him a wink before turning around and hobbling out.