No Pain

No Pain, No Gain

The midmorning conversation at BodyFlex Gym tended toward the monotonous. On any given day, Brett Mosher would be describing his strict routine -- Monday: legs; Tuesday: chest and arms; Wednesday: shoulders and back; then repeat, with only Sundays off.Norma Dolle, another regular, was forever describing her patented diet -- fruit until noon, then complex carbs until five, followed by protein. Nothing after eight p.m. and no dairy ever. Marge, from the juice bar, would always have some customer to complain about. ("He asked me to make his smoothie without sugar or honey and then blamed me 'cause it wasn't sweet enough.") And Doug, the co-owner, was always pointing out someone's bad form. ("See the way Danny sticks his butt out when he squats? He's begging for back trouble. I've told him a million times.") But this Friday morning was different. On Friday they had a murder to talk about.

"I can't believe no one saw it happen," Norma grunted as she squeezed out a set of bicep curls. Brett was also doing a set, while Marge and Doug sat on leather-clad benches and sipped their protein drinks.

"Well, mornings are slow," Doug said, "once we get past the pre-work throng. This time of day it's often just us employees and the three of you." Doug swallowed hard. "The two of you. Poor Danny."

It had been the previous morning, around 11:30, when Danny Bernstein, the third regular, was found in the upstairs workout room, sitting on a leg press machine. His form looked particularly bad, since someone had grabbed a 25-pound plate and used it to bash in the back of his skull. "Danny was a bit of a jerk,"

Norma admitted. "He was always hitting on the women here." "Well, some women liked his style,"

Doug said. "That's what I heard through the grapevine. Danny would make a conquest, then dump her within a week and head for the next woman."

"I suppose he was good looking." Marge yawned. "If you like the over-groomed type. Way too arrogant. Always bragging about getting the best of someone in some business deal. Danny invested in small businesses, right?"

"Right," said Doug and Brett softly, reluctantly, in near-perfect unison. Neither man made eye contact with anyone else. "I hear he was arguing with someone before he got hit." "I heard him," Doug said. He finished his bottled protein drink and tossed it across the floor to a wicker wastebasket. Three points.

"You heard him from upstairs?" asked Marge with a curious frown. "You know how his voice carried. I was behind the counter." Doug pointed to the front counter situated by the stairs that led up to the leg room on the second floor.

"I couldn't hear who he was talking to." "Not even if it was a man or woman?" asked Norma. "No. But I did hear the plate slam down. And then it was quiet. I finished my solitaire game on the computer then went upstairs to check it out." "That's right,"

Brett said. "You're the one who found him. And there was no one else?"

"No. It's just that one room up there. Whoever cracked his skull must have taken the back stairs down to the locker rooms. From the locker rooms, he could have gone anywhere, inside or out. The alarms on the emergency doors don't work."

"The attacker could have come and gone without us seeing him," Brett said. "I didn't see anyone," Norma volunteered. "I was on the StairClimber in the cardio room, watching TV. I didn't hear a thing until the sirens." "I was on the shoulder press,"

Brett added. "Doug came flying down the stairs, yelling at me to call 911." He half-chuckled as he realized something. "You know, I never did finish my workout."

"Well, I missed everything," Marge said. "I was in the back room, behind the juice bar. People don't realize all the work that goes into running this place. Inventory and preparation. Like this guy came in yesterday just as I was opening and wanted a protein drink -- immediately. Like it's just waiting there already made."

"You shouldn't have protein in the morning," Norma said in disgust. "You need the natural sugars in fruit." "Diet's nothing without a good workout routine," Brett asserted. And just like that, they were back in the groove, all of them comfortably at home with their own oft-rehearsed speeches. On Monday morning, the conversation varied again. Three of the regulars forgot all about their regular subjects and spent half an hour eagerly discussing the arrest of the fourth -- for murder.

The Solution: Who killed Danny Bernstein?

The Murderer is: Brett Mosher

The Explanation: What evidence points to the killer?

Brett had been in the second floor leg room when Danny entered to start his routine. Danny had invested in Brett's startup company and gotten the better of him in the financial contracts. Danny ridiculed him for his lousy business sense. Brett quickly lost his temper and attacked. Brett escaped down the back stairs, reentering the gym floor from the locker room. Sneaking over to a shoulder press machine, he pretended to be busy with his workout until Doug came down and announced the crime. The police never discovered the flaw in Brett's alibi. But they did find a bloody shoe tread that matched the tread on Brett's new Nikes