Who is murdering the Eastern States Football League officials in Vanmer, Pennsylvania? And why is the killer using Vanmer Vipers’ helmets as murder weapons?
Johnny Knight, photojournalist for the Independent, takes on one of the most dangerous jobs and responsibilities he has ever attempted. As he begins to unravel clues about the Helmet Killer murders, he uncovers a gambling ring involving numerous Viper players and a real estate mogul with a town full of secrets. And what about the missing money from the first victim, a whopping nine hundred thousand dollars? Is a Viper footballer paying off his steep gambling debts by murdering well-to-do officials?
Along the way, Johnny falls in love with two very attractive and different men -- the sexy owner of McMuscles Gym, Matthew McDestin, and the jockish running back for the Vanmer Vipers, Beckley Roarke. Both have a piece of Johnny's heart, and both really don't want to share Johnny. So what's a detective to do when he's seeing two hotties at the same time?
Can Johnny piece together the puzzle of murder and bring the Helmet Killer to justice, putting Vanmer at peace again?
I had a meeting with Matthew McDestin at his gym called McMuscles. I made the drive to Meaderville in record time, entered the two-story gym, and was greeted by Matthew at the welcoming station at the front of the place.
“Nice of you to make it,” he said, pumping my hand with much brawn.
“Glad you invited me,” I said, taking in his orange buzz cut, 200 pounds of sexiness, and his blue eyes. I then looked around and consumed his gym. There were elliptical machines to the far right, rowers to the far left, a number of weight machines in its center, and locker rooms to the rear of the place. There was also an indoor swimming pool, a Jacuzzi, and steam room. “You put a lot of pennies into this place, didn’t you?”
“More than you can imagine.”
I knew the gym was making tons of money since it was one of the most expensive athletic clubs. All-star football players used the gym and paid a fortune to be a member. If McDestin was in financial turmoil, which I doubted that he was, it was probably because he was spending too much of his earnings and not putting it back into his business. None of that was my concern, though. I was there to talk to the guy about hiring me and what findings I had unearthed regarding the murder of his friend, Tad Dossner.
To my surprise, Matthew asked to go for a swim with him. I didn’t want to turn down the opportunity to see him semi-naked, and agreed to the idea, even if I didn’t have a suit.
He said, “I have a suit for you. Let’s go.”
I followed him to the locker room, happy as a clam, and couldn’t wait to take a swim with the man, desiring his company.
****
Five minutes later we were wading in the deep end of his pool while two female jocks were doing laps. Both of us bobbed up and down near the side of the pool, enjoying the water. He dove into the water and swam to the shallow end. I followed behind like a merman, thrilled with the pool’s blue underworld.
Once we were in the shallow end of the heated pool, we sat beside each other, shoulder to shoulder. I was a gentleman and on my best behavior.
He said, “You swim like a pro.”
“I’m part merman,” I joked.
“I rather like mermen, Knight.”
“I thought you would say that.” I pushed water away from my chest with both palms and found the courage to ask, “Do you know of a betting ring among the Vipers and officials?”
“What are you talking about?”
I told him what I knew about Rod Peterson and Steven Reider. Then I mentioned the bet I placed with Reider. “Roarke says the betting ring isn’t anything new. It’s been going on illegally for a few years now.”
“Are you saying that Tad Dossner had some connection with the betting ring?”
“I don’t know that for sure. It’s something I want to find out.”
He reached through the water and gripped my left thigh with his right hand. “If I can help you in any way to find that out, I will.”
I rather liked his hand on my thigh and didn’t push it away. “I just need you to confirm that Tad was a gambler. Was that true? Because half the population in Vanmer thinks it was.”
“It’s true,” he said, and moved his right hand up and along my thigh, teasing or seducing me, whatever he had in mind.
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