“She pick up anybody new in any of those in the last few weeks?”
“Like I told the others, if you’re a member you don’t have to sign up for any of the classes. You just come in, take whichever you want.”
“How about anybody who joined in, say, the last thirty days. Male, over fifty, let’s say.”
“I can get you that. But you don’t have to have joined at this location. If you hold a membership from any of our clubs—that’s global—you just key in.”
“You have a record of who’s keyed in? You keep track of how your members use the facilities, how often they use them, who pays the fee for a trainer?”
“Sure. Sure. That kind of data goes straight to the main offices. But I can—”
“I can get that,” Eve told him. “No problem. Did she take outside clients?”
“That’s against policy,” he began.
“We’re not worried about policy, Pi. She’s not going to get jammed up if she pulled in some extra on the side. We want to find her.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she did.” He puffed out his cheeks, blew out the air. “Somebody’s willing to pay you stiff for going to their house for an hour a couple times a week, it’s hard to flip it. We’re pals, but I’m management. She knows I know, and like that, but we don’t talk about it. Not really.”
“How about a sense, since you were pals, if she took on a private client recently?”
He puffed out his cheeks again. “She sprang for Knicks tickets—courtside. We’re going to the game next week. My birthday. Son of a bitch.” He smoothed his hands over his shaved head. “Pretty much out of her range. She joked, said she’d hit a little jackpot. I figured she’d gotten a side fee, a couple of them maybe.”
“When did she get the tickets?”
“A few weeks ago. Look, you need to find her, okay? You just need to find her.”
8
OUTSIDE, EVE WALKED THE ROUTE GIA HABITUALLY took to the subway. The woman was a New Yorker, Eve mused. Which meant she’d move along at a brisk pace, and though her radar would be on, she’d be inside her own thoughts.
Might be a window-shopper, Eve thought. Might stop and study a display, even go inside a shop. But…
“Baxter and Trueheart checked out the stores and markets along the route,” she said to Peabody. “Nobody remembers seeing her that day. Some clerks recognized her picture. Previous visits. But not on the day she poofed.”
“She didn’t make it to the station.”
“No. Maybe she wasn’t going to the station.” Eve turned, sidestepping toward the buildings as New York bustled by. “Had extra dough, enough for a pair of courtsides. She takes an outside client. Maybe the client’s address is within walking distance. Or he provided cab fare or transportation.”
And considering this, she factored in Baxter’s point about the potential age difference, and the fact that Gia Rossi had been a trainer, in peak physical condition.
“Maybe she walked right into it. Maybe she walked right into his nest.”
“He doesn’t grab her. He just opens the door.”
“Slick,” Eve said softly. “Yeah, that would be slick. Contact Newkirk. I want him and the other uniforms canvassing this area. All directions, five blocks.” Eve headed toward the car. “I want her picture shown to every clerk, waitperson, sidewalk sleeper, doorman, and droid. Get McNab,” she added as she climbed behind the wheel. “I want him to send her picture to every cab company and private transpo service. Bus companies, air trams. Hit them all. Then the Transit Authority. Check the run for that night on other stations. She didn’t use her pass, but maybe she took a ride anyway.”
Peabody was already relaying to Newkirk.
“She went to him,” Eve said before she swung out into traffic. “That’s what I think. She went right to him.”
Following the hunch, she contacted Zela at home.
“Yes?” Obviously half asleep, Zela stifled a yawn. “Lieutenant? What—”
“Did Sarifina ever give private lessons?”
“Private lessons? I’m sorry, I’m a little foggy.”