contributed. “That means he knows something that's a threat to the killer. Maybe he snapped a picture of the guy with Torrie at the wedding.”
“So then why wasn't his camera bag stolen?”
“Because he'd already turned in the film for developing or uploaded his digital photos.”
“He wasn't the wedding photographer,” Marla reminded Nicole.
“Doesn't matter. He must have caught something significant on film. Ask his magazine editor if she has the pictures.”
“Hally might have seen them. She's the society reporter who works with him. I'm hoping she can shed more light on Griff's character, because he's an enigma to me. He'd seemed morose, talking about Torrie in the hotel lounge last night as though he cared. But when I overheard their conversation at the park, he threatened her.”
“About what?” Lynn asked.
“I don't know, but I'll find out.” Setting down her implements, Marla grabbed a blow dryer and switched it on.
Four hours later, she switched off the ignition on her Camry and emerged from her car at the magazine's address in Boca Raton. Entering the brick building, she faced a warren of cubicles beyond a wide reception desk. So much for privacy. Maybe Hally could step away for a cup of coffee.
The sleek redhead glanced up from a computer when Marla approached. “Hello, darling. Come to see me at my digs?” She waved a hand. “Hey, girls, this is Marla Shore. She operates a beauty salon in Palm Haven.”
Marla nodded her greeting. “Actually, I'm here to talk about my new day spa. You e-mailed me that you might be interested in covering our opening celebration. We're raising money for Locks of Love, donating ten percent from all our spa treatments that day.”
“Write me up a press release, and I'll see if I can get approval to cover the story.”
“Thanks, I'd be grateful.”
“Is that really why you came to see me?” Bending forward, Hally straightened a framed photo on her desk. It showed a pair of kittens playing. Marla glanced at a couple of other framed shots at her station. No people, she noted. Were these pets more important to Hally than her actual family members?
Marla's arm brushed against a potted plant at an adjacent cubicle. There wasn't an empty chair in sight. Noise from clacking computer keys and workers' subdued chatter competed for volume in the background. This was no place to hold a private conversation.
“Can we go somewhere else?” she asked Hally, who studied her with a speculative gleam. “I want to discuss a mutual acquaintance who was at the wedding.”
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
“So then why wasn't his camera bag stolen?”
“Because he'd already turned in the film for developing or uploaded his digital photos.”
“He wasn't the wedding photographer,” Marla reminded Nicole.
“Doesn't matter. He must have caught something significant on film. Ask his magazine editor if she has the pictures.”
“Hally might have seen them. She's the society reporter who works with him. I'm hoping she can shed more light on Griff's character, because he's an enigma to me. He'd seemed morose, talking about Torrie in the hotel lounge last night as though he cared. But when I overheard their conversation at the park, he threatened her.”
“About what?” Lynn asked.
“I don't know, but I'll find out.” Setting down her implements, Marla grabbed a blow dryer and switched it on.
Four hours later, she switched off the ignition on her Camry and emerged from her car at the magazine's address in Boca Raton. Entering the brick building, she faced a warren of cubicles beyond a wide reception desk. So much for privacy. Maybe Hally could step away for a cup of coffee.
The sleek redhead glanced up from a computer when Marla approached. “Hello, darling. Come to see me at my digs?” She waved a hand. “Hey, girls, this is Marla Shore. She operates a beauty salon in Palm Haven.”
Marla nodded her greeting. “Actually, I'm here to talk about my new day spa. You e-mailed me that you might be interested in covering our opening celebration. We're raising money for Locks of Love, donating ten percent from all our spa treatments that day.”
“Write me up a press release, and I'll see if I can get approval to cover the story.”
“Thanks, I'd be grateful.”
“Is that really why you came to see me?” Bending forward, Hally straightened a framed photo on her desk. It showed a pair of kittens playing. Marla glanced at a couple of other framed shots at her station. No people, she noted. Were these pets more important to Hally than her actual family members?
Marla's arm brushed against a potted plant at an adjacent cubicle. There wasn't an empty chair in sight. Noise from clacking computer keys and workers' subdued chatter competed for volume in the background. This was no place to hold a private conversation.
“Can we go somewhere else?” she asked Hally, who studied her with a speculative gleam. “I want to discuss a mutual acquaintance who was at the wedding.”
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
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