Fit To Be Dead (An Aggie Mundeen Mystery Book 1) by Nancy G. West Page A

vertical space could be disastrous. Did I rupture the poor fellow? Change his voice? Shorten his life span?
    Of all the people I could have walloped, Ned Barclay would take it hardest. He’d never believe my blow was accidental, not after Mickey practically chased him out of the weight room, and I did nothing to prevent it. Not after I made him blush by calling to him in the lunchroom when I sat perched between two guys. After the lunch incident, I’d intended to find Ned and apologize, but I never did. Considering what I’d just done, an apology wouldn’t cut it. My best option was to flee. Slipping off the seat, I slinked at top speed, head down, across the other side of the basketball court.
    Once Detective Garrett found out I’d skedaddled from the weight room, he would probably elevate me to number one suspect as Holly’s killer. I needed to work on my social skills. If I irritated every man at the club, including the investigator, how could I work undercover to solve Holly’s murder?
    Detective Garrett would have to wait. My immediate problem was reaching the women’s locker room without running into Ned. With him writhing in pain and thoroughly embarrassed, this wasn’t an opportune time for us to meet. If he turned out to have a horrible temper, I could be facing an abbreviated life span.
    Instead of creaking down the stairs, I opted to jump into the rarely used elevator. I pressed “one” and cringed in the corner. A pair of red socks stepped into the elevator cage. Fortunately, they weren’t attached to Ned Barclay. They belonged to Sheldon Snodgrass, the picky eater who’d latched on to us at Tofu Temptations Grill. His eyes bulged above his Ichabod-Crane smile. The mere sight of him made me long for something soaked in butter.
    With no food signs in the elevator, Sheldon focused his attention on me. He inspected me from top to bottom. His eyes lighted on my Lycra pants and bugged out. “You know the party I’m having? The one Thursday night?”
    He slithered over, blocked me in the corner and smiled down at my T-shirt. He wasn’t issuing a general invitation a person could avoid by remaining silent. For a vegetarian, he looked downright carnivorous. When the elevator door opened, I considered screaming until I realized he was handing me a card. I had the distinct impression he wouldn’t let me escape until I read it.
    Food, Fitness and Euphoria
    Sheldon Snodgrass, Editor-in-Chief
    The printed card included his address and the party’s date and time. He waved his arms. “This is Euphoria’s party of the year. All the food buffs come—restaurant owners, chefs, the press—it’s a big bash.”
    There are times when one must lose gracefully. Who knew? I might discover a savory, life-prolonging new dish to describe in my column. I might even pick up clues about Holly’s murder.
    I tried to match his excitement. “You’re so kind to invite me.” I nearly gagged on my southern inflection. “I’ll remind Meredith Laughlin of your invitation. She’ll be delighted to come.”
    No way would I enter Snodgrass’s healthy habitat alone. “Sam Vanderhoven might like to come, too. He’s a good friend of ours.” Without mentioning Sam was a detective, I let Sheldon know we had a male protector.
    At least, unlike Ned, Sheldon didn’t view me as evil incarnate. Elated by my acceptance, he didn’t seem to notice how fast I slipped around him, skittered off the elevator and raced for the locker room.
    As I zoomed past the steam room, I saw Doorknobs reclining with her nubs pointed skyward. I’d read about some group that erected triangular tents to capture atmospheric energy waves for their bodies. Maybe Doorknobs had a unique way of making contact with energy waves.
    Since I hadn’t perspired much in the weight room—probably a lot less than Ned—I only freshened up, helping myself to dollops of the club’s creams and sprays. Maybe I could catch Meredith before she left to find out what the