Murder in the South of France, Book 1 of the Maggie Newberry Mysteries
Page 52
*****
Burton hung up the phone and turned back to the blackboard.
“No answer?” Dave asked. He sat, lounging at his desk eating a piece of cold takeout pizza.
“It went straight to voicemail.”
“Call the art director. What was his name?”
“Poke-along or something. Bizarre business, advertising. They’re all basically freaks.”
“Call him and ask if Parker was sleeping with anyone in the office. Ask about Maggie Newberry and Deirdre Potts specifically.”
“Will do. What are you going to do?”
“I’m supposed to be home tonight at a reasonable hour. If you can handle this on your own, I’m going to head out.”
“No prob. Which, by the way, is one of the many copious reasons why you won’t find me slipping my neck in the old matrimonial noose.”
“Yeah, right. That’s why you’re single. Just make the call. I’ll follow up tomorrow on the driver of the truck.”