“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?
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
“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?”
“Try some,” Dalton offered.
She bent toward him, opening her mouth so he could give her a taste. Rolling the velvety smoothness on her tongue, she swallowed, savoring the sweet aftertaste.
Her gaze locked with his. Oh, my. The blatant desire in his eyes caused liquid heat to surge through her veins.
>
“Maybe eating chocolate at night isn't such a good idea. I forgot what we were talking about.”
Dalton gave a wicked grin. “Come over my house later. I'll relieve your hunger.”
I wish. “Sorry, but I have work to do at my place. I still have some cartons to finish packing.”
“So you were joking, right? About finding a way to get into the magazine's building after hours?”
Her mood sobered. “Surely you don't think I'd do anything that dumb? You know me better than that.”
How true, and that's what worries me, read the look he returned. “So what do you want from my end?”
“Besides asking if the cops found anything in Torrie's computer files? I'd like you to investigate Falcon Oakwood's background.”
“Why?” His smoky gray eyes bored into hers.
“There's a connection between Torrie and Leanne Oakwood. That's enough of a reason. Someone killed Jill's sister, and everyone associated with her qualifies as a suspect.” You taught me that much, pal.
“Even your friend?”
“Hardly.” Marla stiffened. “Jill is terribly upset about her sister's death.”
“Is she more upset about Scott landing Torrie's share of their jointly owned property?”
Marla's gaze slid away. “That particular issue concerned her before the tragedy.”
“Exactly. Maybe she thought her problems would be solved with Torrie out of the way.”
“That's absurd. Both of them were upset over losing the tenant. If anything, Torrie was adamant about finding a new renter. Jill seemed more uncertain. Now she's under pressure from her relatives to follow their advice.”
“I suppose we'll see them again at the funeral.”
“Tell me about it. I wonder if Griff Beasley will come. Torrie's colleagues, including Hally, will likely be there.”
“Hally actually admitted there was a love triangle between those three?” He drank a sip of water.
She nodded. “Professional jealousy, as well. Hally's assistant made it clear she isn't happy about the society reporter getting a promotion. Since Torrie is gone, that's all but assured.”
“Interesting.”
Lifting her coffee cup, Marla tilted her head. “I feel bad for Jill, having to attend her sister's funeral so soon after her wedding. If I can help her survive this, I'll do what it takes.”
“Speaking of things to do, sweetcakes, Mom is bugging me.”
“Now what?” She suppressed a grimace. She loved Kate, but their tastes often clashed.
“She thinks we should register for gifts at Bloomingdales as well as Macy's and Bed, Bath, & Beyond.”
“It's too late. We're already receiving packages.”
“People are asking her what to get us.”
“So? I don't have time to go to the mall again or to fill out online forms. I have an appointment with Jill's florist tomorrow. Maybe he noticed something important at the wedding.”
Dalton reached across the table to pat her hand. “Just don't get so caught up in Jill's affairs that you forget about your own. You have a tendency to get tangled in investigations when personal pressure takes its toll.”
“Do I? I didn't know you were a psychologist.”
He winked, his mouth curving in a sexy smile. “That's part of my job, so watch out. I can anticipate your moves before you make them.”
His words were as much innuendo as warning. How could he know she was sorely tempted to use those lock picks her cousin Cynthia had given her? If only another method for getting into Torrie's office undetected would present itself.
She didn't have a chance to follow through that evening, being overwhelmed with e-mails and phone calls to her mother, Dalton's mom, and her friend Tally.
Tally picked up the receiver after two rings. “Hi, Marla. Thanks for returning my call. I went down to the bridal shop for my final fitting. I love the dress, and I especially like that I'll be able to wear it afterwards at cocktail parties.”
Marla sank onto her bed and leaned against the pillows. “I'm glad you're happy. I still have to pick up my gown one of these days. Ma is lending me her pearls for the occasion.”
“What's happening otherwise?”
Marla cradled the phone by her ear. “I told you what happened at Arnie and Jill's affair. I'm trying to help Jill so she can put this tragedy behind her. It seems as though everyone who knew Torrie disliked her for some reason.”
“Holy smokes, Marla, you've got enough to do. Ken and I would like to get together with you guys, too.”
She felt a flush of guilt. “I'm pretty swamped right now.”
“It's important, Marla.”
“Why? What's the matter?”
“I need to tell you in person.”
Uh, oh. People usually came to her with their problems. What now?
“Tomorrow night is out. I'm going to services with my mother and Roger.” The thought of spending time with Anita's boyfriend made her gag, but he pleased her mother and that's what counted. “I'm spending Saturday night with Dalton's parents, and Sunday is the funeral.”
“Maybe I should make an appointment at your salon,” Tally said in a disgruntled tone.
“I'm sorry. It's just a busy week, unless . . .”
“What?”
“Are you interested in joining me for a B and E?”
“Say again?” A pause. “Oh, no, Marla. You can't be thinking of involving me in your escapade.” Then a note of curiosity. “Who's your target?”
“Boca Style Magazine. I want to look in Hally Leeds's drawers.”
“By breaking into her office building? Dalton would have a cow if he finds out.”
“I won't get caught.” Marla filled the tall blonde in on her latest investigative findings.
“You're insane. Do you really think the society columnist found something significant in Torrie's files?”
“It's possible.”
“You want to see if Griff's photos are there, too, don't you? Otherwise, why would someone bonk him on the head?”
“Maybe Hally did it out of jealousy.” Marla crossed her legs. “She may have heard about his assignment, although he said someone phoned him, and he gave away his location. He couldn't identify the speaker.”
“Hey, I have an idea.” Excitement laced her friend's voice. “Do you have Hally's e-mail address? You could ask your computer pal if he can access her files from a remote location.”
“You mean, hack in? I suppose I could ask Lance.” The techno nerd had helped her before.
“In the meantime, is Jill aware you're running around town for her sake?”
“She asked for my advice.”
“Yeah, over the property matter. How about her uncle Eddy and cousin Kevin? Do they benefit from Torrie's death?”
“I'll try to get more out of them at the funeral.” Marla switched tactics. “So what is it you're dying to tell me?”
Tally gave a low chuckle. “Oh, no, you have to see me in person for that information. Call me when you're ready to set a date. In the meantime, keep your focus. Your wedding is almost here.”
Hanging up, Marla moaned. If only people wouldn't keep reminding her of that fact, but everyone seemed to be a yenta these days. Maybe Dalton was right. When the noose around her personal life tightened, she ran after crooks. It was a lot easier to deal with the black-and-white aspects of life rather than the gray areas with all their distractions.
Eddy Rhodes's name came up again the following day when Marla visited the florist at his shop in downtown Hollywood. She'd forgotten how attractive Philip Canfield was, with his ebony hair tied in a ponytail, warm blue eyes, and dazzling smile.
“How are you, luv? It's so nice to see you again.” He strode around the counter to air-kiss her on both cheeks. “Don't you adore our holiday decorations? December is my favorite time of year.”
“They're wonderful. You've done a beautiful job.” She even spotted a menorah on a small table with a blue cloth.
&n
bsp; A fragrant cinnamon aroma mixed with pine wafted through the shop. Christmas wreaths competed for space with buckets of cut flowers, floral baskets, and green plants. In a refrigerated case, orchids and roses burst with vibrant colors, while on a high shelf around the perimeter of the shop stood sample centerpieces for various celebrations.
“What brings you in today?” Canfield asked, while an assistant added a vase filled with carnations to the refrigerated storage.
“As you know, my wedding is coming up in a few weeks. I'm sorry I didn't meet you earlier. I've already hired someone, but a friend of mine is getting married next, and I thought I'd scout you out for her.” She chuckled nervously, hoping he'd buy her story.
“When is the date?”
“It's in June, so they have plenty of time.” She thought of Nicole, trying to talk her boyfriend into tying the knot.
“That's a busy month for weddings, so you'd have to tell her to put down a deposit without delay. We're already booking a year ahead. How many are in the bridal party?”
Marla clutched her purse. “Four to six? I'm not sure she's asked anyone yet.”
“Have a seat at that table in the rear, and I'll give you some information you can bring back to her.”
Marla ducked past a flowered archway into an alcove where he indicated she should go. More sample centerpieces were scattered around the tight space, making her feel as though she'd entered a fairyland. Tiny glittering lights decorated towering potted trees, while ivory tulle draped from the ceiling. Huge albums littered the tabletop, where a vase sat with an elegant arrangement of white roses, carnations, ferns, and baby's breath.
One album was open to a page showing a bar mitzvah where the theme was pirates and the entrance was through a replica of a sailing ship. Taking a seat, Marla riffled through the books until she came to a wedding album. How could she steer the conversation to Jill's affair? Was that making her heart thud so fast, or did thinking about her own nuptials make her breathless?
“I was impressed by the flowers at Jill's wedding,” she said after the florist joined her. “The centerpieces were magnificent.”
“Thanks so much. They were fabulous, weren't they? Would you like some wine, luv? We have cold chablis and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.”
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