= Dead Weight
  A Teagan LaRue/Fox Stint mystery
  by Tim Kissman

Crime was snow jobbed in Mason.

A particularly nasty Michigan snowstorm had laid siege to the city and stopped any lawlessness for more than a week. Not even a jaywalker braved the icy streets, heavy snowdrifts and sub-zero wind chills.

There was absolutely nothing for the Mason Police Department to do. For the past eight days boredom had soaked Detective Teagan LaRue right to the bone, making her antsy, anxious and angry.

She hated sitting idly by, watching her skills go soft. She couldn't do anything about the lack of crime, but she could keep her body strong. Thoughts of relaxing, like many of the detectives around her, were easy to come by. But the flabby, puffy shape of her partner, Fox Stint, motivated her to move. He sat at his desk, directly in front of hers, and snored with his feet resting on a pile of reports.

The noise reminded Teagan of a mating boar.

"Get up, Fox," she said, slapping her partner's feet. "We're going to work out." Mason Community College had a state-of-the-art weight room facility. It was five minutes away, and best of all, free for police officers.

He snorted and leapt to his feet. "Freeze, Dirtbag!" he yelled, reaching for his holster.

The squad room came to life as laughter shot from the desks of Mason's finest. Fox, embarrassed, didn't realize what was happening until Teagan repeated her order.

He hissed back at her. "What did you do that for?"

"You were snoring," she replied. "Get your clothes on. We're going. I need to get out of here and do something. And you need to exercise." Slipping on her parka, she tied her hood tightly, put on a pair of mittens and grabbed her duffle bag from under her desk. She had brought her gym clothes to work today, anticipating another day of staring at the clock.

Fox stretched, knocking over several fast food bags and cups from the top of his desk.

"God, don't you ever clean your desk?" Teagan said. "Wipe that mustard from your face, too. You're a pig."

Smacking his lips, Fox licked the yellow glob and laughed. "Yup, but I'm comfortable, and there's no way you're getting me to go outside, LaRue. Not in this weather."

"I thought we agreed to lose weight together. You were going to lose a hundred pounds to my ten, remember? Get up and let's get going," Teagan said. Her voice was slightly muffled from her massive fur-lined hood.

"You look like an Eskimo," Fox quipped. "You go ahead. I'll just make a resolution next year to lose two hundred pounds. It'll even out in the end."

"Your logic amazes me," Teagan said. "It's a wonder you're not a captain yet."

"That will happen. I promise you," Fox said. "I have amazing powers, you know. I can will the pounds away. Why, I bet right now that phone will ring and someone will tell you to sit back down and relax."

Teagan rolled her eyes.

Fox cleared his throat and massaged his temples. "Watch carefully. Three ... two ... one ... ring."

On cue the phone came to life. Fox, clearly amazed at his new power, winked at Teagan and answered it on the first ring. After a short conversation, Fox slammed the receiver down and grabbed his coat.

"Who was on the phone?" Teagan asked as they headed out the door. She was relieved to be in the cold air. Those down-filled coats were very warm.

"That was the medical examiner. Someone was killed at Mason Community College," he said. "The body was found in the school's weight room, Teagan. Guess you get to work out after all."

* * *

Due to the weather, the ride to the college took nearly half an hour. A young cop, who looked barely old enough to attend the college, ushered the detectives through a small crowd of onlookers, mostly students gathered at the front, and directly to the weight room.

Britney Spears's hit "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" blanketed the room from ceiling speakers as Teagan scanned the weight lifting and exercise machines. There were at least fifty machines and free weight benches by her last count, and at one time or another she had used them all. Along the walls, absent of any mirrors, were tables filled with large, ten-gallon Gatorade coolers. At one of the tables, at the far side of the room, was the body of a muscular man dressed in a T-shirt and sweats.

The darkly tanned man's head hung low on his powerful shoulders, and his tongue lolled out of his pale mouth and ice blue lips. There was a huge Gatorade container on the table behind him to the right of one tipped on its side. A large wet spot soaked the floor around the corpse. Teagan couldn't tell if it came from the Gatorade container or the corpse's dripping wet hair. But she could see that his head was visible, split open and covered in blood.

The young cop handed Fox a preliminary report, which he read out loud for Teagan's benefit.

"Our dead guy is Edward Cerchia, the night janitor. Apparently he likes to come in before his shift and work out," Fox said. He flipped a few pages then started speaking again. "The medical examiner just left and said the cause of death was drowning, even though the back of his head was bashed in with something heavy, dull and hard."

Teagan peered into the half-filled Gatorade container and swirled her finger in the water. She noticed something underneath the surface of ice cubes. After her sleeves were rolled up, she plunged her hand into the water.

"What are you doing, Teagan?" Fox asked. He was crouched over the corpse.

"There's a battery in here," she said, showing her partner. Then, doing her best to clean her hands on a nearby towel. "AA battery to be exact. Interesting. Do we have any suspects listed in your report?"

"Why the rush?" Fox asked. "I thought you wanted to work out."

"Fox, you're a jerk." She plucked the clipboard from his hands and glared at the young cop, pointing at four names on the report. "Where are these suspects?"

Teagan's mood swing startled Fox. He fell and bumped into a rack of dumbbells, rolling one onto his outstretched hand.

"Teagan," he hissed as the suspects lined up. "Help."

"Can't you move it?" Teagan asked. She bent down and took a closer look at the dumbbell. The iron was covered in brain matter, stained red with blood. "Maybe you shouldn't. Looks like you found the weapon used to render Mr. Cerchia ineffective."

"Great," he said, grimacing. "Now get it off me."

Teagan removed the dumbbell with one hand and put it back into the rack, motioning for one of the uniformed officers to bag it as evidence. "Forty pounds. Good workout for me, Fox. Might be too much for you, though."

Fox was about to comment when the young cop cleared his throat. In his scratchy voice he announced the suspects.

"We have three people who were in here when the body was discovered." He pointed to a very skinny black man, who looked to be in his early twenties. He was wearing mesh shorts, a sweaty basketball tank top and shiny black shoes. On his waistband he had an MP3 player attached to headphones. He was singing the chorus to "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" as his name was called. "This is Earvin Lansing."

"What's up?" he shouted above his headphones, bobbing to the beat.

"Turn those off, will ya?" Fox ordered. "We have some questions for you."

He did as he was told, but maintained his steady rhythm and swagger.

"You found the body?" Teagan asked.

"Yes, he was like that when I walked in for my workout. Grossed me out and I ran out of here screaming for help. I hate blood. That's when I found Mr. Gray." Earvin pointed at the middle-aged man next to him.

"Do you know the victim?"

"Sure, he's known to us as the Big C. Mr. Cerchia -- the man with the plan. I'm on the basketball team here, you know. I'm sure you've heard about me. I was working on my game, like I said, you know, and then, you know, I came in here to add a little bulk. You never heard of me?"

Teagan and Fox shook their heads.

"Well, you should. I'm playing in every game and scoring some major points. Coach said I have promise, pro potential, baby, just need to bulk up a bit."

"No kidding," Fox said.

Earvin didn't laugh. "What you saying, Butterball? You saying I'm skinny?"

"I'm saying you're a toothpick, I never heard of you, and if you talk like that to me again--"

Fox was about to jab his extended index finger into Earvin's chest when Teagan stepped in between the two.

"Why are you so wet, Earvin?" Teagan asked, poking the suspect's drenched shirt.

"Sweat," Earvin said. His eyes never left Fox's. "No pain, no gain, you know."

"Let's move on to Mr. Gray. We'll come back to Earvin in a second," Teagan suggested. She shot an angry look at Fox, who should know better than to lose his cool in front of a suspect.

"His name is Colin Gray," the young cop said. "He's an accountant downtown."

She stepped in front of the older man. His thin, wispy comb-over tried to cover his bald head, while the man's bare belly overflowed a pair of tight green shorts. Thankfully, a black fanny pack reinforced the stretch elastic waistband. Red, white and blue bands adorned his wrists and head. "Go ahead."

"I-I was trying to practice racquetball when this kid comes running inside saying he just found a dead guy. He scared the crap out of me," Gray said. "At this time of the day there's no one in here. Ever. Especially in this weather."

"Have you seen the victim before?" Teagan asked.

"From time to time, maybe in the hallway or something," he said. "I didn't see him today, but as you can see from looks of me I don't spend a lot of time in here. The wife says I should try to lose a few pounds, so I took up racquetball. I hate it."

Teagan made eye contact with her partner, who in return, just patted his belly with a smile.

"Did you kill him?" Fox asked.

"Oh, no," Gray was genuinely surprised at the question. He took out a small personal fan from his fanny pack and turned it on. The slight wind from the fan tousled his comb-over like a wheat field in a hurricane. "I'm an accountant trying to lose weight in this inferno of a place. I hate sweat ... look how wet my shirt is. Yuck. I'm a sweaty pig, not a murderer."

Colin's knuckles were red, raw and looked bloody.

Fox noticed it first. "What's this?" He reached for Colin's hand.

Colin, sweating more under the scrutinty, pulled his hand away, hiding it behind his massive bulk.

"Racquetball injury," he said. "Hit the damned wall, again. Hurts like hell."

"Better have someone from the medical team check that out for you," Fox said. "We'll check out your court, too."

"Whatever you want," Colin said. "I was in Court C."

Teagan, satisfied for the time being, nodded at the young cop, moving to the third witness.

"This is Gina Tiddle," he said. "She's a student at the college and worked the front desk of the complex when the call came in."

No kidding, Teagan thought.

Teagan had lived in the Mason area long enough to be able to pick out a student from the college without much effort. She could have picked Gina Tiddle out of a crowd of locals in her sleep. Gina wore a midriff-baring blouse that looked two sizes too small. Her nose and ears were pierced at least ten times. The girl's dark brown ponytail was limp on her shoulders, and she snapped loudly on a piece of gum. Teagan took her time to look her over.

Teagan's eyes zeroed in on Gina's waist.

"I know what you're going to ask," Gina said. "Why are you so wet, right?"

Teagan nodded.

"Earvin ran up and knocked the fat guy into me. I was drinking a Sprite, but now I'm wearing it. Smell it if you don't believe me. I didn't kill Mr. Cerchia."

"Did you know the victim?"

"Sure, I work here," she said. "Mr. Cerchia comes in every day before his shift to work out. Look at him; he's a work out freak. He's so nice, too. Was, I mean. "

"Did anyone come in with him? Or around the time he entered?"

"No. He always came in alone. This place is pretty empty in the afternoon, especially in this weather. I came down here on my rounds and he was alone working out. Like always. I said 'hi' and moved on. About fifteen minutes later these two guys come up, make me spill my Sprite, and tell me to call the cops, which I did."

"What's that in your hands?" Fox asked Tiddle.

She opened her hand and showed the detectives her Handspring Visor. "It's how I keep track of my homework. I have to stay organized or else I'll fall behind."

"I know the feeling," Fox said, then raised his eyebrow. "It looks like your game is almost over though."

"Oh, geez," Tiddle said and tapped at her screen with a stylus, finally freezing her very high score of Tetris. "Dammit. I was working on that score all morning."

"All right. I want all of you to hang out inside this room for a minute or two while I talk to my partner," Teagan instructed. "Don't go anywhere."

* * *

"Well that's everyone," the young cop said. "Do you need me any more?"

"You have something better to do?" Teagan asked.

"No, ma'am, but I don't think any one of those people killed Cerchia. This facility is so big, and has so many doors, anyone could have walked in, killed the guy, and left."

"I'm with," Fox paused, "what's your name, kid?"

"Jay Burger," the cop said.

"I'm with Burger here," Fox said. "I don't like any of these suspects. All we have is a dead janitor, a half empty container of water and a room full of weights, one of which helped a murderer. I think we should canvass. What do you think, Teagan?"

Teagan's head bobbed ever so slightly while she watched the suspects. She was lost in thought.

"Teagan?" Fox asked, trying to snap her back.

"I think we have our killer," Teagan said simply.

"Who?" Fox and Burger asked together.

"Let's go over what we know. None of the suspects claim they were in here at the time Cerchia was killed right?"

"Right," Fox and Burger said in unison.

"But I think one of them was in here," Teagan said, "because of this." The battery was still in her hand.

"A battery?" Burger asked.

"It was in the Gatorade bucket," Fox explained. "Teagan found it. I forgot about that."

"Unless the school has a habit of taking off the cover of a Gatorade container and dropping batteries in it, I think we have a very important clue." Teagan said. "I believe the killer surprised the night janitor, bashed him on the head but couldn't finish him off. For good measure the killer drowned him. Cerchia probably put up a fight before he was knocked silly. I'm guessing sometime during the struggle, the killer accidentally dropped the battery."

"So one of the suspects must have something that's battery powered, right?" Burger asked.

"They all do," Fox said. He may be lazy, but he was observant. "That Earvin kid has an MP3 player, the accountant has that silly fan and the student has a Visor. What are you thinking, LaRue?"

"I think the question to ask is what isn't working."

Fox and Burger looked at each other.

"What's wrong, Fox? No special powers to figure this one out?" Teagan said with a smirk on her face.

* * *

The weight room's loudspeaker finally switched to a Janet Jackson song.

"Ask Earvin to come over here," Teagan finally said. Her mind was made up. Now we'll see if I'm right, she thought.

Burger left and came back a moment later with Earvin in tow.

"Yo, I need to get to practice, you know," he said. "It'll be starting soon."

"Sure, Earvin," Teagan said. "What position did you say you play?"

"It's like I was trying to tell you, baby. I'm a guard. That pretty brown hair of yours must have been in your ears. I'll give you another chance to learn that I'm the man. I can handle the ball better than a blind juggler."

"You're pretty cocky, Earvin," Fox stressed the basketball player's name.

"You have to be, Butterball, when you're as good as I am."

"You're not that good, Earvin," Teagan said.

"Huh? What are you talking about, lady?"

"I have one question for you, Earvin," Teagan said, staring him in the eyes. "Can I listen to that MP3 player? Because I'm a huge Britney Spears fan, and you must be, too."

The swagger disappeared. So did Earvin's look of confidence. His eyes went back and forth from Teagan to the door, and then he bolted for freedom.

Leaping over a weight bench, he pushed Burger out of the way and started to sprint. Teagan tried to run after him, but was too slow rounding a weight bench and Earvin was quickly out of reach. Fox was the only one who had a chance to catch him before he made it to the hallway.

Sucking in his stomach, Fox nimbly jumped over the same weight bench, ducked a Nautilus machine and slammed Earvin into the brick hallway wall, a few feet from the weight room's door. Earvin crumpled under the weight of the larger Fox with a sick thud.

Teagan, Burger and all the uniformed police officers in the room quickly followed, wrestling Earvin into a pair of handcuffs. Earvin was groggy from the collision and didn't put up much a fight.

Fox stood up, heaving his chest in and out trying to catch his breath. "All this because of a battery ... I think I may have to start working out with you after all."

* * *

"Why are you arresting me?" Earvin asked. He was sitting, surrounded, on a weight bench, with his hands cuffed behind his back. Minutes earlier, Burger had read Earvin his Miranda rights. "You got nothing on me."

"Sure we do, Earvin, baby," Teagan smirked. She took the MP3 player from the basketball player's shorts and opened the back of it. Inside it was empty. There was no battery. She showed it to her suspect.

"That don't mean nothin'," Earvin said, defiantly. "I've watched enough cop shows to know that's not enough."

"True, but since you were wearing your headphones and singing Britney Spears when we first interrogated you, loudly and very poorly I might add, then it must be in your player. Let's just pop this battery in and take a listen."

Earvin tried to stand up, but Fox, with his enormous bulk, pushed the suspect onto the weight bench. Earvin grunted, and looked away as Teagan slid the headphones on. She smiled at her partner when she had made it through the MP3's entire play list.

"Hmm. He likes some interesting music, Fox, a lot of rap, but no Britney," Teagan said. She handed the headphones and player to Burger and stood in front of Earvin. "Why did you kill him?"

Earvin shook his head and mumbled, "You're crazy."

"Am I?" Teagan asked.

"No," Earvin whispered. He knew he was caught. "He was supposed to help me bulk up, like he is, during his late night workouts. It's when we both were available but then he decided to change his workouts to the daytime. Man, I'm struggling in class and that's the only time my tutor is available. He wouldn't change his mind and even started calling me names, like Butterball here. I lost it and hit him with a dumbbell when he was on the weight bench. He stood up and we started wrestling. I had to hold him under the water until he stopped moving. He would have killed me if I let him up for air."

With the last of his raw emotion gone, Earvin sagged his head. Teagan nodded at Burger, who quietly led him away.

"Nice collar," Fox said when Earvin and Burger were out of earshot "I didn't even see it coming."

"Thanks. Nice pursuit," Teagan said. "I never knew a big guy like yourself could run like that. We get you in here when all this is cleaned up and we could turn you into a lean, mean, crime-fighting machine. I think there are some five pound weights on the rack over there that we could start with."

"Maybe later," Fox said. Teagan followed him out the door. He put his arm around his partner's shoulder. "The only weight I plan on lifting the rest of the day is a Quarter Pounder at McDonald's. Wanna come?"

Since the age of six, Tim Kissman has loved writing. As Director of Publications as the Small Business Association of Michigan, Tim writes a syndicated column entitled No Experience Necessary that appears in 17 newspapers across Michigan. While Tim writes mysteries for HandHeldCrime.com, he also enjoys writing short stories and middle grade novels for children. His first, Michigan's Tree-mendous Gift, was published late 2001. Visit Tim's Web site at http//www.timkissman.com for more information.

Copyrights (c) 2002 Tim Kissman

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