Shear Murder (9 page)

“Cornelia rules the nest in their household, and she makes her disappointment clear that Leanne hasn't conceived. According to what Torrie told me, Leanne planned to end Cornelia's interference in her life.”

Oh yeah? How so?
Not wishing to stray from their current focus, Marla targeted her next question to Scott's relationship with his wife. “You and Torrie never had children, right?”

“We're childless by choice. I always wanted to do more traveling, but Torrie has been consumed by her job. She wanted that editorial position real bad. Now it looks like Hally will get it by default.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's an opening at their magazine for a higher level job, and they both were contenders.” He drew his mouth down in derision. “Torrie won't have to worry about that anymore.” Hanging his head, he appeared lost in his own memories.

“Am I tiring you?” Marla didn't wish to overstay her welcome. Why had she come? Oh, right, Jill had asked her to put in a good word regarding the property issue.

“No, no.” He waved a hand. “I'm not used to being alone, so I'm glad for the company. My brother is supposed to come over later and help with the arrangements.”

“Jill said you could call her if you need anything.”

“Ha. More likely the other way around. She put you up to this, didn't she?” He took a drink at Marla's protesting shake of her head. “She's hung up over their land. Doesn't care that her sister is dead, just what's gonna happen to her income.”

“I think Jill cares a great deal about her sister's death,” Marla said quietly, “but this was an unresolved issue between them. She'd feel better if the two of you reached an agreement.”

“You mean she'd feel better if I didn't step into her sister's shoes and usurp the family business. She thinks Kevin can find another tenant. Well, good luck. That land is contaminated, and it's gonna take a lot of money to clean it up.”

“Isn't that the oil company's responsibility? Jill says you can make more money through a land lease than by selling and investing the proceeds.”

Scott shoved to his feet. “Thank you for coming, Marla, but this is where we say good night.”

Okay by me. At least I fulfilled my promise to Jill.

She stood upright, her joints stiff from a day's work and then sitting in the car. “I hope the police figure out what happened. Do you have any theories?” Rolling her shoulders, she sighed. The motion loosened her muscles and restored her circulation.

His expression soured. “None that I'm willing to share. Say, aren't you getting married soon?” He led her toward the door.

“In less than a month. My fiancé and I are still making plans. I made an appointment with Jill's florist. His flower arrangements were magnificent.”

“Yes, Canfield did a good job.”

“We need a photographer, too,” Marla lied. “I remember Jill's guy had an assistant who did the videos, but then there was that other man from Torrie's magazine.”

“Griff Beasley?” Scott's mouth turned down. “I'd steer clear of him, if I were you.”

Marla halted. “Why is that?”

His dark eyes snagged hers. “He's a shark who'll bite when the opportunity strikes. It should have been him, not my wife, who died that night.”

“Scott didn't think too highly of Griff Beasley,” Marla told Nicole the next morning at work while they waited for their ten o'clock appointments.

“Oh no?” The dark-skinned stylist glanced at her with a gleam of curiosity. Nicole relished a good mystery and kept urging Marla to read one of the whodunits she knocked off in a week.

“He advised me to avoid Griff. Obviously, Scott doesn't like the fellow.”

Nicole plugged in her tools while Marla set out the foils she'd need for her first customer. “Why is that?”

Marla's gaze swept the salon. Luis, their receptionist, had set up the coffeemaker and obtained their usual order of bagels from Arnie's deli. Countertops glistened and music played softly in the background.

“I don't know, but I'd like to find out. I'll give him a call later when we have a break.”

“Didn't you say Torrie had something on Griff and that he'd threatened her?”

“He wasn't the only one.” Lowering her voice, she told Nicole about the incident in the bridal room.

“Shut up, girlfriend. You did not hear Jill say that to her sister.”

“Jill couldn't be guilty. She stayed in the ballroom throughout the reception, dancing and greeting guests.”

Nicole's brown eyes pinned her. “Didn't you tell me she went to the little girls' room to scrub her hands?”

Remembering what Alexis had told her, Marla put down the rest of her foils. “So? She took a break for a few minutes.”

“Jill didn't want people to discover something Torrie knew about her. Now Torrie is dead.”

Marla refused to think ill of her friend. “Scott has a better motive. He's inherited Torrie's share of the property she owned with Jill.”

“Yet he seems to be mad at Griff for some reason.”

“Griff is a suspect by virtue of his association with the magazine where Torrie worked, and so is Hally. According to Scott, Hally and Torrie were vying for a promotion. Now that Torrie is out of the picture, guess who leaps up the totem pole?”

“Are you relying on hearsay, or do you know this for a fact? Shouldn't you be checking your sources directly?”

Marla sniffed the brewed coffee. She could use a second cup. “I'll have to go see Hally.”

“And why are you skipping around like a piece of bacon in the fry pan? Hasn't Dalton told you enough times to leave the investigating to the cops? You have plenty to do with your own wedding three weeks from Saturday.”

“So true.” She beamed at her friend. “You'll be proud of me. I finally made my choices at David's Bridal.”

Nicole's eyebrows lifted. “And?”

“The bridesmaids will wear a satin strapless tea-length dress in persimmon with a rhinestone belt. It was on sale for eighty dollars, and it's something they can wear to other parties, so I think everyone will be pleased. The matron of honor will wear the same dress in coral.”

Marla hadn't asked any staff members from the salon to be in her bridal party. It wouldn't be fair to include some of them and not the others.

“What about your gown?” Nicole asked.

Her face softened. “I found a beautiful ivory dress that's absolutely perfect. I love it.”

“Take some photos next time you go for a fitting. Did you decide on a place for the rehearsal dinner?”

“I put Dalton's mother in charge of that one. The seating charts for the reception are driving me crazy. Ma keeps finding relatives I didn't know existed.”

“Like your entire clan that showed up for the reunion at Sugar Crest resort? After the ghosts you encountered, you'd think they'd steer clear of family events.”

“Unfortunately, that's not the case. They're all coming.”

Focusing on her customers kept Marla busy until one o'clock, when she finally found a few minutes to gobble down a turkey sandwich. Sitting in the back room to garner some privacy, she considered her conversation with Nicole.

Why
was
she concerning herself with Torrie's murder?

Because she'd discovered the body. Because Jill may have a motive, but Marla didn't think she'd done the deed. Because Jill had asked her for help.

Give up the excuses. You do it because it's your calling. “Justice, justice, shall you pursue.”
Her bat mitzvah Torah portion had become her driving force.

Besides, Marla couldn't turn down a friend in need, and she had a feeling Jill was going to need her more than ever in the days ahead. Arming herself with knowledge could only be viewed as foresight.

Thus, she felt no twinge of guilt when she phoned
Boca Style Magazine
and asked to speak to Griff Beasley.

“I can give you his cell,” the woman on the other line said. “He doesn't come into the office on a regular basis.”

Marla felt a swell of excitement when he answered his phone. Feeling like a hunter on the chase, she identified herself and then threw out her gambit. “I'd like to follow up on some things we discussed at Jill's wedding. Can we meet later? I'll buy you a drink.”

“Well, sure, babe. I'm stuck in Miami, though. Gotta cover a party at the Venetian Pool.”

“I've heard of the place but I've never been there. When do you think you'll be finished?”

“This whole shebang starts at five. Maybe by seven? I can leave after I take my photos.” His drawl deepened. “Hey, here's an idea. Let's meet at the Biltmore. Then after a few drinks, if you don't feel like driving home, we'll see if they have a room.”

Gritting her teeth, Marla forced herself to make a sweet reply. “All right, but I'll need directions.”

As soon as she hung up, she phoned Dalton to see if he'd care to join her. Her blood surged when she heard his rich, masculine voice.

“Sorry, I have to work late tonight. Weren't you supposed to make dinner?”

She winced, remembering her offer to keep Brianna company until her dad got home. “You're absolutely right, and I'll pick up something on my way over.” The phone remained silent. “Dalton, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm thinking. Probably you should talk to Griff if he's willing to meet you. I don't want you to go alone, though. You can't ask Jill, or anyone from the wedding for that matter, because he might clam up. Take someone innocuous.”

“I'll call Tally.” She needed to update her best friend and matron of honor on the wedding details anyway.

But Tally wasn't available either, and Marla didn't want to take Brianna for such a long ride when the teen had homework to do. As she found herself on the road again after a day of work, she felt guilty that her poodle, Spooks, and Dalton's golden retriever, Lucky, were Brie's only company.

Sighing, she gripped the steering wheel and focused on her current mission rather than all the obligations she was avoiding.

What did she hope to gain from this interview? The reason why Griff had threatened Torrie, for one thing. What caused Scott to dislike him? If he'd taken pictures of the wedding cake and when. Who might have been in the vicinity?

As she sped west on I-595, veered south on I-75 to State Road 826, Marla reflected on what she knew about the man. Not too much. Society photographer for
Boca Style Magazine.
Dashing good looks with his blondish beard and mustache and bad-boy smile. Tension between him and Hally. Tension between him and Torrie. Did this reflect upon their personal relation-ships or work rivalries?

Her gaze lifted to the palm trees dotting the industrial landscape along the Palmetto Expressway. Oh, look. She didn't know they had a Bijoux Turner outlet there. That might be worth a return trip.

Her exit came up past the airport, and she got off at Coral Way. Soon she entered luxurious Coral Gables. Streets lined by overhanging live oaks, two-story homes with Spanish barrel-tile roofs, lush tropical vegetation, and gated properties filled the bill for this deluxe community.

Squinting in the twilight, she tried to read the stone street signs close to the ground. She'd finished work earlier than expected, printed out directions to the Venetian Pool, and decided to stop by there first. Likely Griff wouldn't have left yet for their appointment at the Biltmore. She came to the fountain in the middle of a circle and followed her map.

Driving down a side street, she admired a hacienda-style villa sporting orange trees on its rooftop, iron-grille balconies, and potted plants.

After finding a parking space, she emerged into the cool evening air, where birds twittered but insects hadn't yet started their nightly chorus. Normally closed by this time of day, the Venetian Pool had remained open for the private party, likely a charity fund-raiser from the looks of the expensively attired patrons, colorful lanterns, live music, and linen-swathed tables.

“May I have your ticket, ma'am?” said a uniformed attendant at the door. He wore white gloves and a tuxedo.

“I'm with Griff Beasley from
Boca Style Magazine.
” Marla flashed a business card so quickly he couldn't read it. “Where can I find him?” Hopefully he hadn't finished his assignment and left the premises.

“Check on the beach side. Just be careful walking over there; the path can get slippery when wet.” The attendant waved her through.

She breezed across a small bridge with salmon-colored grillwork toward a Venetian-style building. One short flight of stone steps led downward toward clusters of crotons and a grotto-like space beyond. Another staircase rose into a tower.

She descended to the ground level, ducking her head beneath an arch to enter a reception area with an unmanned admission desk. No doubt she'd find Griff mingling among the revelers. Not a soul lingered indoors here.

The main entrance segued into an anteroom lined with blue-colored tiles and boasting a central fountain and historic photos mounted on the walls. Formed from a limestone quarry in 1924, the pool was listed in the National Register of Historic Places. It held 820,000 gallons of water from a natural spring.

Impressed, Marla thought how lucky the community was to have this facility for its residents. It reminded her of the swim clubs up north where she grew up.

Past another stone archway, she stepped into an open-air courtyard set with tables and chairs. Couples stood around laughing and sipping champagne, while waiters strolled by carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres. Marla spared a glance at the barracks-like buildings bordering the courtyard. Their concrete exterior, high windows, closed doors, and heavy wood beams gave her the creeps. They looked too much like prison walls in some third-world country, except for door frames and garbage cans painted bright tangerine. A meager sign read
café
on one door, no doubt leading to a concession stand during the day.

Directing her attention toward the grotto-like pool, she followed the tile path to a covered loggia where wood beams crisscrossed overhead. It faced the water on one side and the courtyard on the other. Elbowing her way through the partygoers, she didn't see Griff anywhere.