The gym off Harding Street was a small square building next door to a carpet outlet center. Both buildings, in fact, looked very warehouse-like with their no-nonsense, rectangular structuring painted in basic beiges, grays, and browns. Less visually pleasing and more industrial—I could dig it. If I owned a boxing gym, I'd go with masculine colors too. Instead, I owned a dainty teashop with copious amounts of fancy tablecloths and floral teacups. Ladies loved it. Rule number one of business: know your audience.

       From the looks of this place, whoever owned it knew the only people coming around here was the rough and tumble crowd.

       And, you know, two bougie girls investigating a murder on their lunch.

       "Looks small," Alice said from the passenger seat. "This the right place?"

       "We'll find out."

       The parking lot was mostly empty since it was midday. Nothing was there but a white van and a couple of mid-sized cars. A shallow pothole had cracked open right in the entrance to the parking lot. I maneuvered around it slowly, careful not to wreck my alignment or blow a tire. Once I was clear, I went ahead and parked as far away from the other cars as possible. That earned me a stank-eye from Alice since she generally hates parking so far away from the door if she doesn't have to, but half the parked cars were all beat up and I'm not looking for my baby to be one of them.

       "Just let me do the talking," I said as we walked.

       "Of course. I'm just here to shadow, hon. I wouldn't dream of upstaging you."

       There was no signage on the building itself, and no standalone sign to tell you it was the right place, but the lone glass door that led inside had the name of their business posted in glossy white vinyl lettering: Bragging Rights

       This was the place.

       There was no guarantee that Felix Rosario was in right now but if he wasn't I was hoping to at least talk with someone who knew him. Or at least that was as far as I'd thought out my half-assed plan.

       The inside was a big square room with tan walls that had been graffitied with colorful cartoonish depictions of boxers in action and the words Bragging Rights in big bold bubble lettering across the back wall. A Puerto Rican flag hung from the ceiling near a back office.

       At the center of it all was a boxing ring. Two men pummeled each other as some terrible rock song I'd never heard blared from the speakers. One of the men outside the ring yelled at the others to keep their hands up.

       The rest of the equipment in the gym consisted of a few sparse punching bags, a weight bench, and a vending machine.

       "Can I help you?" A tiny table and chair were set up near the door. The man that sat there was middle aged, balding and chubby. He wore a sloppy collared shirt and a blue baseball cap with the emblem for the Burenville Crawdads embroidered across the front.

       "Yes. Is Felix Rosario here?"

       He pointed at the ring. "Yeah, he's in the ring."

       Alice and I walked toward it with a bit of trepidation. There weren't any seats or a general waiting area, so we hovered with our backs against a wall as we waited.

       "So, what's the plan." She said as she casually watched a man take shots at a punching bag.

       "I'm gonna ask him some questions."

       When I didn't say anything else, her face scrunched up in disbelief. "That's it? No word games? No fake identity? No espionage?"

       "Nope."

       I'd thought about it, but strategically there was no advantage to Jedi mind tricking my way through it. And no way for me to effectively pull it off even if I wanted to. The world of competitive sports was too foreign to me, so I would have to play this straight.

       In the meantime, I watched the match with special interest paid to their swings. Ashley had said that Noah had come home that night with his right eye blackened. I was no black eye scientist and I'd only been in a handful of fights—mostly with people trying to shoot or strangle me—but according to my armchair research, if a right-handed person takes a swing their more likely to hit the left eye and vice versa. Therefore, Noah was punched by a lefty.

       So, if my hypothesis is correct and Mr. Rosario hit Noah, he should be lefthanded.

        Unfortunately, after eight minutes of watching them pummel each other I had no idea whether either of them were right or left-handed but they seemed to be taking a break at the very least. I waited patiently as both of them climbed under the ropes and jumped down to the ground. I was wondering which was my suspect when the guy with the baseball cap cleared it up.

       "Hey, Ro. They want to talk to you."

      'Ro' turned to us and walked over with an overconfident gait that was appropriate considering he was absolutely freaking massive. Dude was probably about six foot three at least but more impressive was a physique that was more muscle than anything else. His shoulders were broad enough to black out the sun, his arms were as thick as tree trunks, his full black hair was trimmed just to the nape of the neck, and every bit of his golden-brown skin glistened with sweat.

       When he removed the soft padded helmet he'd been wearing as he'd sparred, I heard Alice gasp softly behind me. The man before us had the face of a god. His eyes were deep-set and dark, his lips—upturned into a pouty little smirk—were soft and full. His jaw was so sharp it looked like he could cut glass with that shit. And he didn't have any icky facial hair covering up the goods!

       Felix Rosario was goddamn beautiful. So beautiful I momentarily forgot why I was even there. Then I remembered I was investigating him for murder so it would behoove me to get my ass in gear.

       He looked between us and smiled. Ah, a part of him that was less than perfect. A couple of his teeth were crooked—like maybe his parents couldn't afford braces, no big deal. But worse than that a couple were missing. A consequence of his profession, I presumed. My heart fluttered a bit anyway. What's a few missing teeth to a body like that? Not that I was interested, of course. But God never said there was anything wrong with just looking...wait, yes, he did. He's probably not so happy with all that premarital sex I'm having with Manny either truth be told...but would he really send me to hell for that stuff?

       Certainly not toda—wait a minute, I'm on a tangent. Where was I?

       "Ladies?" His voice was deep as hell and as creamy as silk. Good Lord, was the man personally sculpted by every fertility god in existence?

       "Felix Rosario?" I asked, all business.

       "Call me Ro." He momentarily glanced at Alice, and I swear that heifer almost fainted. "Everybody calls me Ro."

       "Okay, Ro." I heard myself chuckle awkwardly, like a teenager who's never talked to a boy before. Someone help me. "Could I talk to you for a minute."

       "You a fan?"

       "No. A private investigator."

       He raised an eyebrow. "A private investigator? Like on tv?"

       "Yeah, sort of."

       "Cool."

       Before I could speak, the man in the baseball cap waddled up. "Ro," he pushed a pen and clipboard into the man's hands. "Can you sign this for me."

       "Yeah. No problem." I watched intently as he scribbled his name then handed the clipboard back. Right-handed. Damn. "Anyway, you need to talk to me?"

       "Yes. It's about Noah Walker—"

       "Tell that asshole to back off or I'll fuck him up!"

       I stepped back a bit because that explosive temper not only rattled the air around us, but it also snapped me out of my infatuation. "I don't work for Mr. Walker. He's dead."

       His eyes changed from angry, to surprised in a flash. A smile cracked his lips. "Well, good! Fuck him."

       "He was murdered."

       He smiled even wider. "Big surprise."

       "Why'd you hit him?"

       "What?" He tried his best to look innocent, but I know he heard me just fine.

       "You're the one who gave him that shiner right?"

        "I only hit people in the ring." What a perfectly P.C. response, almost like his manager coached him.

       "I know about his side business if that's what you're worried about."

       He sighed deeply and tossed his head back like our conversation was too burdensome to carry. He had a nice neck—super muscular. When he finished being dramatic, he glared down at me with a look that resided somewhere between panic and petulance. "Look man, he was trash, but he was smart. He knew stuff he shouldn't have known."

       "Like?"

       He looked around, then whispered. "Like none of your business."

       He was getting less cute by the second. "Alright, alright." I shrugged casually, like I didn't care. "When did you last see or hear from him?"

       "Last Thursday. Told me to meet him at this Circle K off Lennox and Murphy." He frowned deeply...It made him look hotter. "I came with the cash. He tried to hassle me for more, so I told him no and left."

       "Did you see him after that?"

       He shook his head. "No. He didn't contact me again. Thought he learned his lesson. Guess someone taught him a better one." That was enough to make him smile. "Who killed him anyway?"

       "Don't know."

       He had the nerve to look pensive. "Is that what you're here about? Look somewhere else. I had nothing to do with it."

       "Maybe."

       "Definitely. I lose my cool sometimes but I'm not a killer." Was that a soft admission to hitting him? Definitely. "So, if that's it I got training."

       "One more thing. Where were you last Friday night?"

       "I was at a fight." He chuckled a bit, but something about it was forced. "Check the highlights on YouTube."

      "What the hell is this?" The whole gym turned to look at a woman who stood near the entrance with a look of absolute fury shadowing her quite pretty face. "Oh, hell no!"

       To my horror, this rage shrew marched our way, her long wavy brown hair swinging behind her, and stopped to stare holes into Alice.

       Ro's bravado melted. He swallowed and took two subtle steps back. "Babe! What are you doing here?" He seemed smaller somehow as he turned to her, his eyes begging.

       "I came to surprise my man with lunch!" She yelled. All action in the gym had ceased. Everyone watched her with bated breath. "The real question is what's she doing here?" She pointed at Alice.

       "She's just a fan."

       "That's what you said about that stank bitch I caught you creeping with last time!"

       "I don't know the girl—"

       She turned on a dime and settled her venomous stare at my friend. "Hey bitch! You fuckin' my man?"

       I prayed to any god listening for Alice to handle this tactfully. She looked down at the woman, who was slightly shorter than me, and smiled so sweetly. "Who you callin' a bitch, bitch?" She chose war. She always chooses war.

       Curly Sue took one bold step right into Alice's personal space. "You. Do somethin'."

       I felt pity for my friend for a moment. A consequence of being so beautiful was that often other women could barely stand to see her even hover in their boyfriend's orbit let alone talk to them. Shit, even I was on guard when she met Manny, and I don't have to worry about either of them. Then, there's this poor crazy lady getting dogged out by her uber hot boyfriend. Being with someone super attractive was, well, attractive until you were faced with the realities...

       So, you know, I feel for the plight of the beautiful or whatever but it's like a hundred degrees outside and this gym smells like ass. I'd rather not get mine kicked today. "Can we all just calm down?"

       "I wasn't talkin' to you." Ol' girl's head swiveled my way like she was possessed. "Why you in my business anyway? You want sloppy thirds or something?"

       "Okay, ew. And no."

       "Then mind your fuckin' business." Alice was about to say something, probably in my defense, but I shot her a look that left no argument. It was time to make our exit.

       I nonchalantly looped my arm with Alice and began wrangling her to the door like wayward steer. "Okay, cool. Nice meeting you. Bye."

       Rosario made the mistake of throwing me a half-hearted, "Bye."

       Her head pivoted back to him. Time to call an exorcist. "Who you think you fooling, Ro? You think I'm stupid?"

       "Nah, babe! Nothing's going on!"

       "Just like there was nothing going on last time, huh?"

       "I told you, they're fans!"

       "Fans my ass! Those bitches ain't fans!" She's perceptive, at least.

       I've never been so happy to step outside into hundred-degree heat in all my days. Alice was giddy. She practically skipped back to the car. After barely escaping a physical confrontation, I was happy my damn self. Until I saw that someone had pulled their beat up old hooptie right next to my car.

       Now why with all these empty spaces did she park right next to me?

       Ugh. Whatever.

       "Oh my God!" Alice laughed once we were inside. "I always have the best time when I go on these errands with you."

       "Are you serious? You almost got into a fight! On your lunch break!" I cranked the car and shook my head. "Imagine if you'd returned to those suits at your corporate job with your clothes wrinkled and your hair mussed.

       "Bitch came at me. What'd you want me to do?"

       "Deescalate."

       "I don't know the meaning of the word."

       She sure doesn't. "Hot mess express!"

        "Ticket for two!"

       I turned on the air and we howled with laughter. "I get why she's mad, though. That dude was fine as hell."

       "Whew! You ain't lying."

       "He was finer than that Samoan who works the Eat Vegan booth at the Art Walk."

       She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Alek's fine too, though."

       I gasped. "You know his name?"

        She smirked. "Yeah, unlike you I wasn't too chicken-shit to go talk to him."

       "Well?"

       "He's happily married."

       I cupped my hand by my mouth. "Booooooooooo!"

       "Girl, I know. He's got kids too. He gave me his Instagram—"

       "He creeping?"

       "No, no. It's connected to his business. And he has all these pictures of him and the wife and the kids making their little vegan meals. It was really sweet. He's actually super nice."

       I laughed. "Oh. Well, that's lovely."

       "Where we eating?"

       I didn't know this side of town as well, but I remembered we'd passed a Publix on the way in. "It's five-dollar sushi day at Publix."

       "Hmm. I haven't had sushi since me and Khadija went to that terrible Chinese place on Soutel. She said, 'what's up', by the way."

       "Is that a yes?" I snickered.

       "Yes."

       We hit up the nearest Publix with a quickness. By the time we got to the seafood section a line had formed so I guess we weren't the only ones jonesing for the cheap sushi. But the sushi chef was fast and so eight-ish minutes later I walked out with a crunchy California roll of dubious Japanese origin and their wonderful summer rolls which was like eating an uncooked eggroll filled with the freshest lawn trimmings but somehow so, so delicious. Especially with that sweet chili sauce.

       I spent the rest of my lunch sitting in the car, music blasting, and kiki-ing with Alice about hot guys like we were twelve again. A little unseemly for two grown women but, hey, if she wouldn't tell, I wouldn't either.

****************

        Later that night I took some time to double check alibis. YouTube only had the highlights from Ro's fight, but I went down an internet rabbit hole and found the whole thing on some local boxing forum. He indeed spent Friday in a fight, but he neglected to tell me that he was knocked out in his third round. Crosschecking the times told me he was out of there hours before the murder and thus still had ample time to kill our degenerate Mr. Walker.

       And from his reaction, he's pretty happy Noah's gone. But then again, I suppose I would be too. And what about the black eye? Ro was right-handed which blew my theory out of the water, but he was still the most likely to have hit him from my approximation. Could they have met up at the Circle K that Thursday for Ro to hand off the money, only for him to get angry and follow Noah back home? Lennox and Murphy were only four miles or so from Noah's house. Did he follow him then play it cool for a day, including going to the fight, just to swing back by and kill him? He had the motive, but did he have the means and opportunity?

       It was enough to make my head hurt so I turned my attention from Felix Rosario to Kelli Olson. She too had a very public event the night of the murder. The Leukemia Ball had some decent coverage by a couple local publications. One article by The Weekly Quarto was the most promising. It was basically a quick write up about the event that focused heavily on Kelli Olson for some reason. There wasn't anything groundbreaking in the article itself, it was the usual fluff piece, but the author a Ms. Emily Higgs had apparently kept her eyes on Kelli for much of the night.

       I found Ms. Higgs contact info and shot her an email. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

       Once that was done, the heaviness of a full day of work started to weigh, so I turned in. I'd taken my over-the-counter sleep aid as usual, but it hadn't kicked in all the way, so I found myself perusing the internet on my phone under my covers. It was during a whim to check Facebook that I discovered Noah's mom had made a post or whatever it's called about Noah's funeral.

     'Saying goodbye to my baby', it said. The picture she posted was of the funeral pamphlet. On the front in small print just beneath the jaw on Noah's picture, which made him look as angelic as a cherub, was the date and time:

       Thursday 5:00 pm

       Baptist Ministry

       Looks like I'll need to brush off my best black dress. Tomorrow I was attending a funeral.