Shear Murder (11 page)

Hally's blue eyes narrowed. “Griff, I presume? As you can see, I'm rather busy.”

“Did you happen to see his pictures from the wedding?”

“I don't do the layouts, darling. That's our editor's job. Dellene puts the whole piece together.”

“When is the issue coming out? Can I get a sneak peek? Those photos may show something the police should know.”

“I'm afraid that's not possible.” Gathering her Kate Spade handbag, Hally rose. She tugged at a cobalt-blue top that she wore over a silky flowing skirt. Marla wasn't that familiar with designer labels, but this looked like Dana Buchman. It could be worth hundreds of dollars, unless she'd bought it on sale at the outlet mall.

“What's this?” Marla pointed to an open magazine on Hally's desk. Photos from a recent society ball jumped out at her. Squinting, she tried to read the byline, but the print was too small.

Hally's face took on an ugly sneer. “That's
Home & Style Magazine
from Palm Beach. Their photographer takes really good pictures. I've never met Grant Bosworth, and some say neither have his editors, but somehow he always seems to get the scoop ahead of our publication.”

A young woman with a blond ponytail stumbled in their direction, nearly dropping a pile of papers. Her face reddened. “Here are your page proofs, Miss Leeds.”

Marla stared at her. For some reason, the girl looked familiar. Had they met before?

“Put them down before they end up all over the floor,” Hally snapped. “We're going into the break room. I don't want to be interrupted, Rachel. You got that?”

Marla saw the flash of anger in Rachel's sharp brown eyes. “Sure, Miss Leeds. And Dellene says, I mean, she said to tell you the article on the diabetic society event was great.”

“You should show more respect, kid. Our editor is Mrs. Hallberg to you.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Dumping her burden on Hally's desk as instructed, the girl swung away.

Marla, appalled at Hally's rudeness, stood watching with her mouth hanging open.

“Come on, no one should be in the break room right now.” Hally wove through the office maze with Marla at her heels. Empty coffee mugs, stacks of paper, and glossy magazine pages were piled everywhere. Staff members scooted here and there or sat frozen at their computer stations, typing madly.

How could anyone get their work done with this continuous clamor? Marla considered the noises in her salon and how they would sound to a stranger. The whirr of blow dryers, the chatter of customers, and the splash of sink water were comforting to her. She supposed the same could be said of background work noise anywhere. Depending on if you liked your job or not, the sounds would either bring pleasure or raise your stress level.

“Do you work with Griff often?” she asked Hally over a cup of coffee in the break room, where they sat on opposite sides of a marred wood table.

Hally pursed her lips. “We try to team up when we can.”

Her lofty tone made Marla instantly suspicious. “Oh? And are these all local assignments, or do you sometimes travel together?”

The reporter's eyes glimmered. “Any overnighters we pull are strictly on our own, if you know what I mean.”

“I'm not sure that I do.” Marla could play coy, too.

“Then let me put it bluntly, darling. Griff and I are together. Or at least we were, until
she
butted in. That won't be a problem any longer.”

“She? Do you mean Torrie?”

Hally bared her teeth. “The bitch knew he had the hots for me, and she still tried to chisel in on my territory. In more ways than one. I'm sorry she had to die the way she did, but I won't miss her.”

“Are you saying she tried to lure Griff away from you?”

“Torrie and Scott were having problems, in case you didn't notice. A little thing like being married wouldn't stop her.”

“I visited Scott, and he warned me away from Griff. Was Scott aware Griff had been fooling around with his wife?”

“I don't know Scott well enough to answer your question.”

“How about Griff, then? Which one of you two did he favor? Or do you think he snuggled up to Torrie because she knew something damaging about him?”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“I overheard them talking at Orchid Isle. She was upset about Griff going back on his word. They threatened each other, actually.”

“I'm not surprised.” Hally's gaze turned thoughtful. “Torrie knew things about people, things they wouldn't want others to learn. Hanging around high society like we do, we hear stuff. Torrie collected a lot of dirt. She wasn't as careful as she should've been.”

Meaning what? Torrie blackmailed people? Then what secret did Griff have to hide?

Marla didn't voice her thoughts aloud. She still needed to clarify the issues between Scott and Griff. Which one had the most to gain by Torrie's death?

“I ran into Griff the other day,” she mentioned casually. “He nearly accused Scott of murdering his wife. You don't know Scott that well, but did Torrie ever seem scared of him?”

“Hell, no. All she did was put down the poor guy. He wasn't assertive enough. He spent more time with his clocks than with her. He didn't care if his clothing was out of style. She didn't have one good thing to say about her husband.”

Sometimes the meek types were capable of the most violence.

“Did Griff tell you he got mugged? Nothing was stolen, so robbery couldn't have been the motive. That's why I was interested in the pictures he took at the wedding. Maybe one of them shows Torrie's murderer.”

Hally took a gulp of coffee. “What else would you expect, darling? The killer had to be someone familiar to her, and we're all in the photos. I know it's not me, so that leaves everyone else.” She wrinkled her brow. “What happened to Griff?”

“Someone conked him on the head.”

“Is he okay? I haven't seen him in . . . since we worked together at Orchid Isle.”

“Oh, he'll be fine.” Marla wrapped her hand around the insulated cup. “Weren't you also covering the park's grand opening? How did that go?”

Hally lifted her nose. “I got a great interview with Falcon Oakwood. Watch for my story in the next issue of our magazine.”

“He wasn't the first owner of the property, was he?” She'd been unable to find much information on the Internet about that tract of land.

“Nope. After he acquired the site, it took him five years to develop the exhibits, plant the gardens, carve out the nature trails, and design the buildings. He wanted a place to showcase his orchid collection, to support research for new hybrids or whatever they're called, and to provide a native plant habitat.”

“You sound like an admirer.”

“I respect his goals, that's all.”

“Was Torrie scoping him out for an interview, too?”

Hally's expression shuttered. “She may have had other things on her mind.”

“Wasn't she friends with his wife?”

“Just so.”

“I wonder how much they confided in each other.”

“You'll have to ask Leanne that question. You might want to talk to her anyway.”

“It was nice of Leanne to put in a word to her husband about Jill's wedding. The garden setting worked out perfectly.”

“Purely a publicity move, darling. Falcon knew it would bring people to the park.” Finishing her beverage, Hally tossed the empty container into a nearby trash can. “Leanne can tell you other things, but I'm not sure you want to hear them. Too much knowledge can be a liability.” With an air of dismissal, she stood.

With more questions tripping on her tongue, Marla followed Hally from the break room. Jumping aside as a staffer scurried past, she regarded the bustling scene with a sense of guilt. Time to go back to her salon.

“I appreciate your taking the time to see me,” she told Hally. “Please give me a call if you think of anything else that would be helpful. I can always pass information along to my fiancé, who's with the police. I suppose the crime scene guys already examined Torrie's computer files and such?”

Her skirt swishing, Hally strolled along at her side. “They were here the next day.”

“And?”

“I don't know if they found anything relevant.”

They might not have, but did you?
Hally would have had time to come by the office on Saturday night. Had she discovered which file contained the supposed “dirt” on people that Torrie collected? And if this file truly existed, did it contain material that someone would kill to keep secret?

Marla parted amiably and walked, deep in thought, toward the front door. If only she could get a look at this place when no one was here. She'd search for Griff's photos as well as hidden files on Hally's computer, and Torrie's as well, if the police had returned the dead woman's CPU.

Lost in her musings, she bumped into someone as she breezed past the reception desk.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” said Rachel.

Now Marla saw that she wore a name tag indicating her status as an intern. The poor thing must be so used to apologizing that she automatically assumed her own guilt.

“No, it's my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going.” Anxious to move on, Marla shifted her handbag to her other shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Rachel regarded her with large, round eyes. “I'm fine, but can I have a word with you?”

What's this about?
Maybe the girl hadn't collided with her by accident.

“Sure, honey. Would you like to step outside?” Whatever the girl had to say wouldn't be for Hally's ears. Marla gave the receptionist—a lady with a beehive hairdo and a wad of gum in her mouth—a brief wave at the exit.

Retrieving her sunglasses, Marla propped them on her nose. The temperature had risen toward eighty and the air was dry, making for a glorious afternoon. Too bad she didn't have the rest of the day free.

Leaning her back against the wall, Marla confronted the intern. “What can I do for you, Rachel?”

The girl shaded her face with a hand. “I thought you'd like to know that Hally has been talking about you. She told us how you were eavesdropping on her conversations at the wedding and that you're a close friend of Torrie's sister.”

“So?”

“Hally said that Jill had a reason to want her sister dead. But the truth is, so did Hally.”

“I gather Hally and Torrie didn't have much love for each other.” Marla eyed the girl curiously. Whose side was she on?

“They were both under consideration for a promotion. Like, I'd hate to see Hally get the post. Torrie deserved it more.” Rachel's eyes welled with moisture.

“Is there any truth in Hally's statement? Her implication that Jill had a motive to kill Torrie is pretty drastic.”

“Jill wouldn't hurt anyone. Maybe she didn't want Torrie to tell anyone about . . . at least, not yet, until we . . . you know.”

No, I don't. Fill me in, will you?
Gritting her teeth, Marla sucked in a deep breath to calm her nerves.

“You shouldn't let Hally get you down,” she advised, breaking an awkward silence. “I'm sure she's under pressure, especially with a promotion at stake.”

Rachel leaned inward. “That's what I mean. I'm not sure how far she would go to move up the ladder.”

“Hally is ambitious, but she isn't stupid. You know, it would really help if I could get a look at her computer.”

“What for?” Rachel gave a furtive look over her shoulder.

“I'd like to check out her article on Orchid Isle, for one thing. Have you seen any of the photos lying around the office? Are they printed out, or is everything done with digital images?”

“Gosh, I don't know.”

“I understand Hally has worked with Griff Beasley a number of times. Have you met the guy?”

“She talks about him a lot, but he doesn't come around too often. Anyway, I didn't have much contact with Hally before now. Torrie's the one who hired me as her intern.”

Interesting. Torrie hadn't struck Marla as the kindhearted type. Maybe she'd simply wanted a minion to do her bidding.

“I appreciate your confidences,” she told the girl. “All I want is justice for Jill's sister.”

“Me, too.” Rachel hung her head. “I owe her a lot, so it's the least I can do.”

“Will you be going to the funeral?”

“Sure. Like, the whole office gang will probably be there.”

“Good, then I'll see you again. If anything turns up in the meantime, please give me a call.”

After she handed the intern a business card and turned away, Marla remembered where she might have seen her before. A mental image flashed in her mind: the black-haired waitress at the wedding who had taken such an interest in Jill. Rachel shared an uncanny resemblance to the woman.

Nah, it had to be a coincidence. Didn't it?

“What do you mean, you want to snoop inside Hally's office?” Dalton asked with a frown of disapproval.

“You heard me.” Sitting across from him in a local café where they'd gone for early dinner, Marla leaned forward. “She knows something. Can you find out if the detective in charge of Torrie's investigation got any information off her computer? I think Hally copied her files.”

“So? Hally is the society maven, right? What would she want, Torrie's fashion descriptions?” He cut the snicker that escaped his lips when the waitress delivered their coffee and desserts. Glancing at his watch, he dug in without hesitation, doubtless not wanting to waste time before picking up his daughter at dance class.

“Hally implied that her rival collected gossip on people, things they wouldn't want others to hear.” The aroma of baking brownies made her mouth water. She dipped a spoon into her chocolate soufflé, feeling an instant of regret. The dish looked so artistic, she hated to ruin it. Oh, well. Like the cheese at the end of a mousetrap, this treat was meant to be consumed, not merely admired.

The chocolate crust puffed over its container, a white ceramic bowl. Raspberry sauce was zigzagged across the powdered sugar–sprinkled plate. Like a volcano, the soufflé's outer crust yielded to molten chocolate lava inside. Its rich semisweet flavor exploded in her mouth with an eruption of pleasure.

“Umm, this is heavenly,” she mumbled between bites. “How is your Chocolate Indulgence?”