Not tall. But…solid. Yes. That word fit him very well.
He nodded to her, and turned back to his work.
“How many residents live in the building?” Casey asked Maria.
“There are one hundred-fifteen apartments in this main building, about two-thirds filled with singles, plus we have two more buildings toward the ocean, one on either side of the Flamingo, which each have fifty units. So at any given time we house close to three hundred people. This building tends to serve the younger residents, while the smaller two are more attractive to those who are closer to retirement, or who already have retired. They have their own gathering places in their lobbies, so the generations tend not to mix too much, except in the exercise arena or the outside pool. We have a few empty condos right now in this building. I’ll show you one when we’re done with our tour, if you’re interested. After all, if Mrs. Williams hires you, you’ll be living here, too.” She led Casey up a flight of stairs, which opened into a wide hallway.
Casey made a note of the cameras mounted along their route. It looked like the Flamingo took its security at least semi-seriously. “Do you live here?”
There was just enough hesitation before Maria’s answer for Casey to realize she’d struck a nerve.
“I live off-property,” Maria said. “On the other side of town. Most of the staff does, except for those who have housing as part of their salary.”
“And Sissy?”
“Building Two. The Palm. Fitness instructors are usually younger, so they stay in The Flamingo. Besides, it’s where the job takes place.”
“Question about that,” Casey said. “Or really more about the previous instructor. Can you tell me why she left?”
“He. He left. And no, I can’t talk about it.”
“Or the one before him?”
“That was another he. And that’s not my story to tell, either. Suffice it to say they didn’t work out and he left two weeks ago. Perhaps you’ll have better luck.” She slid a key card into a slot on a door, and it opened automatically. “As you can see, we’re on our fitness floor, and this is our weight room.”
Casey stepped in and was pleased to see a water cooler, which sat just inside the door beside a shelf of clean towels and a bowl of apples and oranges. The fruit wasn’t enough to mask the usual smell of weight rooms—sweat. But this room also had a tinge of chlorine mixed into the odor, probably from the pool Casey could see through the glass wall on the far side of the room. It looked Olympic size, and was presently in use.
One man, a few years older than Casey, paced around the free weights area, shaking his arms. It wasn’t his first day lifting, from the size of him. He had a full head of hair, not yet gone gray, and his legs were tree trunks. A weight belt encircled his narrow waist, and there was no sign of steroid acne on his back or shoulders. Casey approved.
Another man and two women, all older, used the weight machines. Casey was impressed at the quality of the facilities. She’d never been a huge fan of weight training, but she’d done some in the past, and could see herself using these.
At the far end of the room, overlooking the pool, stood a line of cardio equipment—treadmills, stationary bikes, and ellipticals. Only a few were in use now, again with an older contingent. Some of the exercisers were glued to little TVs on their machines, but others watched the water aerobics class in the next room. Casey walked over to see how many participants were in the pool.
“That’s Laurie Kilmer, the resident who helps out with classes,” Maria said, indicating the woman at the front of the group of swimmers. She was probably in her forties, with dark hair and overly-tanned skin. Her teeth were so white they practically blinded Casey with the reflection from the water. She looked fit, and from what Casey could see, was working the residents hard, but safely.
“Maria.” It was one of the women on a treadmill, and she gestured for Maria to come closer.
Maria excused herself and went over to her.
“You the new fitness instructor?” The man from the free weights had drifted over and looked Casey up and down, not in a creepy way, but more like he was deciding if she would qualify for the position.
“Not yet. I’ll be doing some classes this week, on a trial basis.”