Gym Junkie

There’s a large, rustic timber desk in my office, as well as a trendy abstract painting, a leather wingback chair, and an ottoman that sits by the window. We run the business out of a converted warehouse that has high ceilings and rustic floors to give it an industrial yet modern feel. The business is successful, and every day is different. That’s what I love about it the most.

Ben pops his head around the door, so he can see into my office. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” I stand and grab my things, and within two minutes, Jesten— who we call Jes—Ben and I are on our way to our first meeting of the day.

We work in threes, that way we can ensure the safety of everyone. Jes and Ben are my partners. Funnily enough I met them both through my sisters. One married one sister, the other had the hots for the other sister, but he wasn’t as fortunate. Somehow, through it all, I gained two great friends and employees out of it.

I got lucky.

We drive down the road in my car. “So, where are we going?” I ask.

Jes flicks through the paperwork from his position in the back seat. “To see a Hilary Chancellor.”

“What’s her deal?” Ben asks.

“Middle aged, very wealthy. Her husband died and it was determined a suicide.”

My eyes find Jes in the rearview mirror. “And the wife doesn’t think it was?”

“She does, but she thinks he was having an affair before he died, and she wants us to find out who the woman was.”

I scrunch up my face. “Fuck off, man, we don’t do that kind of shit. I couldn’t give a flying fuck who was sucking his dick.”

“Same,” Ben mutters as he stares out the window, uninterested.

“The thing is…” Jes continues. “I studied his autopsy report and I’m not so sure it actually was suicide.”

My eyes find Jes again. “What makes you think that?”

“It doesn’t add up. The time of death, where he was found… it would have been near impossible for him to have done it all alone without any help. I also saw that he had past anal trauma.”

My eyes flick to Jes in the mirror in question. “Mr. Chancellor liked cock?”

“Seems so, although I’m not sure if his wife would have been aware of that from just reading the autopsy report. It wasn’t exactly spelled out in those terms.”

I frown as I turn onto their street. “Okay, then let’s go find out.”

We pull up outside a luxury house that backs onto Sydney Harbour, and I instantly smile when I see the view. “Very nice.”

“What stupid prick would kill himself if he lived here?” Jes mutters under his breath.

“Right?” Ben whispers as we approach the front door.

I ring the doorbell, and a male servant answers the huge door. “Yes, hello, we’ve been expecting you. Please, come through.” He shows us through the house and takes us out to the backyard which has spectacular views across the harbour. “Please take a seat.” He smiles as we all sit down. “Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No, thanks.” I smile. Mrs. Chancellor approaches from inside, and we all stand immediately.

“Mrs. Chancellor, I’m Brock Marx. My colleagues are Ben Statham and Jesten Miller. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I introduce us as we all shake her hand and pass over our business cards.

“Thank you for coming.” She’s an attractive lady in her late forties who is immaculately dressed and has a killer body. She looks around nervously to see if anyone can hear us before she sits down.

Hmm, interesting. She clearly doesn’t trust her staff.

“I’m very sorry about your husband Mr. Chancellor,” I say. “Our sincere condolences.”

She smiles softly. “It’s been six months now and I miss him more every day.”

“So, why are we here?” I ask.

She takes a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and slides it across the table.

04123378903

“Phone number?” Ben frowns.

She nods. “Yes. But I have no idea whose.” She smiles, as if embarrassed.

“After my husband died, I found this phone number in his cell records. I think it may be one of a secret girlfriend’s.”

I roll my lips. I hate this fucking shit.

“You think he was having an affair?”

“I’m not sure, but he called this number on the days that I was going out of town, which leads me to believe that it is someone he would meet when I was away.”

We all nod and exchange subtle glances. How do you tell someone that you suspect their husband was seeing another man, not a woman? “Mrs. Chancellor, I’m very sorry but I think you have the wrong idea. We don’t deal with infidelity cases,” I tell her.

“I have reason to believe my husband was being blackmailed.”

“Why?” asks Jes.

“He sold a million dollars’ worth of shares on the week he disappeared, but the cash has never been recovered.”