The men wore tan slacks with striped shirts that matched the girls' culottes, along with strawberry-pink ties.
Gloria came up to my desk carrying a big white makeup case. She set the case down and said, "Boy, that was one hell of a job getting everyone done, but the money will be rockin'."
"You did a fantastic job on the models, Gloria. I feel out of place in this sleeveless purple sheath."
Gloria snorted. She leaned closer. "The models are jumpy because of your boss. They all think he killed Suzie. Even Gina wouldn't come down here where 'the murderer' is."
"That's ridiculous, Gloria. We know Bradley didn't kill Suzie. The question is, who did?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I noticed that Gloria's expression changed.
"My mind is gone right now," she said, checking her nails for chips in her red polish.
Gloria wasn't her usual friendly self toward me. I tried for some conversation. "I had a date last night with Louis Kinnaird."
Gloria rolled her eyes. "He is prime, but a perfectionist. Very picky with his makeup, and, if I'm right, he's still upstairs trying to get his tie flawless."
I sighed. "You know, I got that impression, but figured I needed to get to know him better. He took me to the Phone Booth for dinner."
Gloria's brown eyes grew wide. "Choice place. Do you think Louis could change your mind about Bradley being the love of your life?"
The question surprised me. The truth was worse: I didn't think there was any man who could take Bradley's place in my heart. "Like you told me at Pierre's showing, I should be dating and having fun."
She looked at me for a long, unsettling moment. Then she nodded. "As long as you're just having fun with Louis, I can give you the gossip on him, if you want it."
"Tell me."
Gloria looked at Bradley's door to make sure he hadn't left his office. "Louis used to work for Models, Inc.—you know, the agency that is Ryan's biggest competitor, with Ford being over both?"
"Yes, I've heard about them. Didn't they try to steal Suzie away from Ryan at one point?"
"Yeah, but Ryan offered her better assignments, and there were some other factors. Anyway, Louis is very ambitious. Though Models gave him lots of assignments, it was never good enough for him. He jumped ship and came here for the Burma-Shave gig, but"—here Gloria paused dramatically—"that's not what he's really after."
"I know he told Bradley he was hoping Burma- Shave would be so pleased with his print campaign that they'd use him for a TV spot."
Gloria nodded. "That's not surprising. But what he really wants is to be the 'Us Tareyton smokers would rather fight than switch!' guy, and Ryan holds the account. Louis wants to have his face in magazines across the country, on billboards, become a recognizable face to America. A star."
"But we already have a very popular guy doing those. I know, because when we went over accounts one day, Bradley told me the Tareyton people were extremely pleased."
Gloria shook her head. "You've still got a lot to learn about this business. Think of it: Louis comes in here, gets in Dutch with Bradley . . . and you. You've already given him an assignment. Maybe it takes a while, but soon Bradley and Louis are hangin' together, and the next thing you know, boom! Louis is getting the prime assignments and gets in with the Tareyton people, convincing them their guy is looking stale."
"That's quite a plan."
"Ruthless models do it all the time, Bebe. Remember Suzie? I know you must," Gloria said, staring at me in a peculiar manner before moving to the models. Her look indicated suspicion. But of what?
I thought about what she had said about Louis. If true, Louis was using me. I decided to reserve judgment.
Right then, Louis himself came out of the elevator and walked straight to my desk. "Good morning, Bebe. You look lovely."
"Thank you, Louis. Are you all ready to go?" A movement out of the corner of my eye alerted me to Bradley, coming out of his office, his eyes on Louis and me.
Louis answered. "Bebe, you made me happy giving me this assignment." He bent down and whispered, "And your lips taste sweet."
I know I went red.
"Good morning, everyone," Bradley said, sta iing right behind Louis.
Louis turned and faced him. "Good morning, Mr. Williams. We're ready for a great photo shoot."
Bradley glanced at me, ignoring Louis, his gaze going over the other models. To my dismay, some of them looked at him with barely concealed disgust, though they all returned his greeting.
Bradley turned to me. "Miss Bennett, where is Gina?"
"She called me earlier and said she wasn't feeling well enough to attend the shoot. I called Danielle from the typing pool. She's going to cover for me so I can come and help out."
Bradley raised an eyebrow at me. The eyebrow said that he hadn't given permission for me to go. I stared back at him with a bland expression.
Danielle stood at the edge of the reception area.
"Where is Pierre?" Bradley asked.
From across the room, Gloria said, "I talked to him on the phone this morning. He'll meet us on location."
"Well, then, what are we waiting for? Miss Bennett, since you're coming along, I'll put you in charge of getting cabs."
"Yes, Mr. Williams," I said, smiling sweetly. I grabbed my bag and the B. Altman's order and nodded at Danielle.
I swept past everyone and entered the elevator, my finger on the stop button. For a second no one moved, afraid to get into the elevator with the murderer. Then Gloria got in, followed by Bradley and Louis.
The doors closed and Gloria said, "Bebe, is that My Sin you're wearing?"
Bradley turned his head an inch and glowered at me.
Louis looked at me and winked. "So that's what it was."
I put my chin in the air. "Yes, My Sin is my favorite perfume. I just discovered it, and I won't wear any other scent." I kept my gaze straight ahead until we reached the lobby.
In the lead, I marched across the concrete in front of the building, down the steps, and to the corner. I flung my hand in the air. I repeated this until everyone, including me, was on the way to Lincoln Center.
The Lincoln Center fountain had opened only recently, and this was my first visit. In the center of a large place, there was a large, sparkling pool from which many sprays of water shot upward. A slight breeze fluttered our way, bringing a mist to my face. I turned toward the sun and smiled, happy to be outside in the city of my dreams on this keen day.
The models gathered to one side, laughing, giggling, and hamming it up.
Gloria stepped over to them, ready for touchups.
One person was missing: Pierre.
Bradley, wearing a cool pair of dark shades, walked over to where I stood admiring the fountain. "Where's Pierre?"
"Um, I'll ask Gloria and see if she knows any more," I replied, and dashed away.
"Gloria, where is Pierre?" I asked. "I thought you said you talked to him."
"He's always late. Lay off him, would you? He likes to make an entrance." She powdered a male model's nose.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later Pierre arrived in a huge black Cadillac. Daddy once told me Cadillacs cost around six thousand dollars!
Pierre emerged from the long car dressed in his usual black, complete with beret. A male assistant carried a huge silver-and-black transistor radio with an antenna. Pierre gingerly lugged a big, sturdy bag that I assumed held his cameras and accessories.
All at once two things happened: The female models ran to flock around Pierre, and he spotted Bradley. Blowing kisses to the models, Pierre left them and stormed over to my boss.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded in his French accent.
Bradley said, "Are you addressing me, Pierre? I'm head of Ryan Modeling."
"Good morning, Pierre, it's me, Bebe Bennett," I tried. He nodded at me but his focus was on Bradley.
Pierre's face became as purple as my dress. "I will not work while Suzie's murderer stands free instead of in jail whe
re he belongs!"
Bradley sighed. "You'll do this photo shoot unless you want to be held in breach of contract."
"Not while you are here!" Pierre yelled, his voice carrying over the noise of the street traffic, over the sound of the fountain, making the models huddle together. They had a stake in this, after all.
Bradley remained unruffled. "I don't have all day. Let's get busy."
"I tell you, I will not!"
"Pierre," I said, and was gratified when he turned to me. "Did you hear that Jack Norton bowed out of the photo shoot just last night?"
His brows came together. He seemed to notice me for the first time since his arrival. "He's not here, Bebe?"
"No. He had the nerve to call the agency right at five and say he'd be partying on a barge off the Hamptons and expected to be too hungover to attend. Can you believe it?"
"I won't photograph him again," Pierre said, looking toward the models.
"Don't worry, though, Pierre; I found a replacement: Louis Kinnaird. He's so excited to be working with you," I said with enthusiasm.
Bradley muttered, "Your boyfriend."
I'd savor that comment later. I put my arm through Pierre's and guided him over to meet Louis. All the models fawned over Pierre, including Louis.
Pierre's ego seemed to be sufficiently stroked. "Bebe, you did well. I'm impressed with you," he said, rubbing my back.
I scooted out of reach and shouted, "Is everybody ready?"
A chorus of yesses sounded.
"Come on, Pierre; I want to watch you work," I said, excitement in my voice. "That's a groovy radio. What station are we going to play, WABC?"
I made sure to block Pierre's view of Bradley while the photographer painstakingly adjusted one camera, then discarded it back in the bag for another.
It wasn't long before a series of upbeat pop tunes filled the air, and Pierre was shouting directions and encouragement to the models, who posed over and over again by the fountain.
"Swingin'!" Pierre shouted over "Can't Buy Me Love."
He dashed around taking shots from all angles, his assistant supplying him with fresh rolls of film.
"Gear! Tammy, give me that haughty tilt of your head."
After an hour it grew warm, and I thought it best that everyone have a cool drink.
"Mr. Williams, I don't know how much longer Pierre is going to keep shooting, but I thought I'd go out and get some Cokes for everyone."
Bradley's gaze was on the street.
I turned to see what he was looking at, and my mouth dropped open. Detective Finelli cruised slowly by in his Pontiac Tempest. He came to a stop and looked our way. I didn't know how Bradley felt, but goose pimples rose on my arms.
Then, just as slowly, the detective moved his car back into traffic.
Bradley acted as though nothing had happened. "Drinks ... a good idea, Miss Bennett. But I think I'd be the better person to go. You seem to be able to charm men into doing what they don't want to do. Pierre, for example. I dare not continue the shoot without you here to keep him calm."
"Is that your way of saying thank-you for replacing a model at the last minute and stopping Pierre from leaving?" I asked, miffed that he hadn't thanked me, Though he hadn't really had a chance.
"I've always said that I consider you a valuable secretary, Miss Bennett. I did promote you."
Before I could reply, he headed toward the street. A valuable secretary.
I'd show him exactly how valuable I was, and not just as his secretary, but as the woman who proved he hadn't killed Suzie Wexford!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
About an hour after Bradley returned with a box filled with cold cans of Canada Dry's Tahitian Treat, which he asked me to hand out, Pierre told the models they were fabulous, gear, beautiful, and he kissed every one of them—and me!—on both cheeks, the French way. He had the shots he needed and seemed in a rush to leave.
After Pierre's display of temper, he did not interact with Bradley again during the shoot. Just before he left, he looked at Bradley and spat on the ground.
Bradley ignored him.
"Miss Bennett, can you organize everyone in cabs back to the agency? I need to go and thank the people in the center."
"Yes, Mr. Williams. I'll see you back at the office."
"Okay, kid," he said, leaving me standing there watching the impressive back view of him.
I managed to get everyone, including myself, back to Ryan. Outside the building, Gloria told me she had another assignment and took off immediately. I frowned. I had thought she and I might grab lunch, but she vanished before I could make the suggestion. I puzzled over her marked change in attitude toward me.
Deciding to hit Marv's hot-dog stand and get a Tab, I dashed down the crowded street to his corner and stood in line. A quick glance at my watch told me it
was almost one o'clock, the height of the lunch rush for Marv.
I didn't mind the wait. I spent my time thinking about who had the strongest motive to kill Suzie. Lola? Pierre? Scott Roberts? Gloria? I hated to think it might be Gloria. She had been so angry at Suzie, though, an anger that had built over a period of time. At the World's Fair, she had threatened to kill Suzie. I wondered if Gloria had yet another motive. Much to my regret, I would have to study Gloria at the memorial tomorrow. The service would reveal a lot; I could feel it in my bones.
Finally it was my turn for a hot dog.
"Hi, Marv. You sure are busy. I'll have the usual hot dog but with a Tab. How's your wife? How are you?"
Marv didn't even look up. "Wife's miserable. I'm miserable. Instead of the doctor, I want to be the one who spanks the kid's bottom when he or she enters the world."
I laughed. "Marv, you know they don't let fathers in the delivery room. Soon you'll be showing off—"
A loud screech of tires at the curb directly behind us made me and everyone else in line turn our heads. A checkered cab stopped short of running into a crowd of people.
The cabbie screamed out his window, "Hot-dog man! Your wife's in labor! She won't go to the hospital without you. Get in the cab! Now! I don't want no woman delivering a baby in my cab!"
From the back window, a pretty, dark-haired lady, crying and looking frightened, called, "Marv," in a voice barely audible over the traffic.
Marv grabbed me. He took off his apron, put it over my head, spun me around, and tied it tight. All the while he yelled, "I'm coming, Betty! Hold on!"
"But . . . what ..." I tried, sputtering.
Marv eased me behind the stand. "Bebe, just help me out for a while, please. Betty and I need the money bad. I'll call my cousin to come down and then you can go. Won't be but twenty minutes, tops!"
Me? Run the stand?
"Free hot dogs for life, Bebe!" Marv shouted as he got into the cab. The driver gunned it. Horns honked when the cab dived into the nearest lane.
I stood alone behind the hot-dog stand.
An older woman wearing a pillbox hat said, "Miss, I don't have all day. I want a hot dog with ketchup. No mustard. No relish. And certainly no onions. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, grabbing a hot-dog bun. I used the tongs to get the hot dog out of the steaming water, but the darn hot dogs were slippery. I finally got one in a bun, squirted ketchup on it, and handed it to the woman.
Then I had to take her money and give her change, which she carefully counted, making the people behind her more impatient.
I went on in an endless world of hot dogs: mustard that flew on my cheek, ketchup on my apron that made me look like a gunshot victim, and bits of relish and onion that covered my hands. Would the line never end? Where was Marv's cousin?
Finally I thought I had a break when a man in slacks and an unbuttoned pale orange shirt walked up to me. Marv's cousin? I smiled.
"Give me the money, cookie. Wouldn't want to add blood to those ketchup stains." He revealed a long, deadly knife hidden under his open shirt. One he could use on me, and then run away through the crowds. The s
mile died on my lips. I trembled.
Give him what he wants, one side of my brain screamed.
Then the other side took over.
Marv's money.
The baby.
I took a deep breath. "Okay, mister, it's underneath the hot dogs in a tray. I'll get it for you; please don't hurt me," I said, having no trouble acting afraid.
"Make it snappy," the crook said, looking from left to right.
I bent down to the extra mustard-filled plastic bottles, and picked one up. My heart raced in my chest. I thought it would explode at any moment.
The next few seconds blurred together.
"Hey, Scarlett O'Hara, what's taking so long?"
I jingled the cash box. "I'm getting it all together for you."
"You've got five seconds before— Aaaaaaahhh!" The crook yelled when I jumped up and squirted a stream of mustard right in his eyes.
"Help! Someone help!" I screamed.
People walked by, fear on their faces, steering clear.
I hated to run and let the crook get Marv's money, but I had to or this guy was going to stab me, kill me maybe. Even now, he was using his shirt to clear his eyes.
The knife came out. I saw the crazed look in the man's reddened eyes. Run! Run! I commanded myself.
But my feet were frozen to the ground, I was so terrified. It was like a dream when you want to run, but find you can't move.
I shut my eyes. "Dear Jesus, please forgive—"
The sounds of a scuffle made my eyes fly open.
Four men were holding the crook down on the pavement. Another man said he'd call the police and ran off to find a phone booth. A crowd gathered.
My breath came in strained gasps. I was going to live—I was alive! There were good people all around me. The others who had turned away had been too afraid, that was all.
Suddenly I went cold. The tall buildings around me started to sway.
"Bebe! Oh, dear God, Bebe!"
That husky voice . . . those strong arms coming around me, hugging me tight.
"Bebe, Bebe, are you all right?" Bradley asked in a panicked tone I'd never heard him use. He held my head against his chest with one hand. The other stroked my hair.
B004183M70 EBOK Page 14