Read Online Deadly in High Heels by Gemma Halliday - Free Book Online
Authors: Gemma Halliday
Tags: General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, cozy mystery, Weddings - Planning, Women fashion designers
Ads: Link
article in Cosmo about how it's supposed to take five years off your skin's appearance." He winked at me. "It may taste like rabbit pellets, but a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do to look this hot."
I covered a very unladylike snort. "Point taken."
Marco was dressed today in a pair of white pleather Bermuda shorts, white loafers with no socks, and screaming neon turquoise baby-doll T-shirt that read: Queen. While I recognized it as one of the Miss Hawaiian Paradise promotional shirts, I was pretty sure Marco was enjoying the double entendre.
I gave my order of a Denver omelet, complete with ham (Aren't diet gurus always tell you to eat more protein?), cheese (What woman doesn't need more calcium, right?), and green peppers (Vegetables! I'm sure these were almost as good for the skin as kale.). My mouth was beginning to water from the heavenly scents as I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Good morning, Maddie."
I turned to find Laforge striding up to the omelet station. In all honesty, I was a little surprised he remembered my name from our brief introduction when I'd first arrived on the island.
"Good morning," I said, mustering up my most cheerful voice for my boss-for-a-week.
"I trust there were no more incidents this morning?" While the words were benign enough, the tone in his voice sounded almost as if he blamed me for finding Miss Montana.
"Not so far," I said, punctuating it with a smile.
"Hmm." Laforge pursed his lips together. Clearly he did not appreciate my attempt at levity.
As with yesterday Laforge was dressed in a pair of skintight pants that I could easily see helping him sweat away an extra ten pounds by the time the afternoon humidity hit. He'd topped it off with a pale pink button-up shirt, unbuttoned one too low for my taste, reminding me of a '70s disco king. An image that was further reinforced by the large gold medallion hanging around his neck and the pair of expensive sunglasses perched on his nose, almost completely obscuring his eyes from view. I wondered if they were for fashion or if Laforge was nursing a hangover.
"I'd like you to meet my good friend, Marco," I said, tactfully changing the subject as I turned to my companion.
Laforge gave Marco a quick up and down. "I see you're enjoying our promotional Tshirts," he said, just that hint of West Hollywood style bitchiness in his voice.
"I feel like a diva in it," Marco answered cheerfully.
"You look like a diva in it," Laforge said, though I wasn't sure it was exactly a compliment.
I could tell Marco caught the tone in his voice as well, as he squared his shoulders, narrowed his eyes, and pasted on a smile more fake than Miss Arkansas's breasts. "It takes a diva to appreciate one, doesn't it, dahling ?" Marco asked, gesturing to Laforge’s conspicuous sunglasses. "Indoor shades. Very drama."
"Hmm," Laforge mumbled through a smile that matched Marco's insincerity. "I'd say Prada is always appropriate, isn't it?"
"Practically timeless," Marco retorted. "You know, unless they're from last year's collection."
Laforge's eyes narrowed. Marco's smile grew bigger and sassier.
I could quickly see this turning into a fashion face-off and decided to intervene before my friend diva-ed me right out of a job.
"Any word yet on whether or not the pageant will go on as scheduled?" I asked, again using my brilliant subject-changing skills.
Laforge let out a deep sigh. "Sadly, no. I'm meeting with the detective in charge of the case later this morning, and hopefully they will give me something I can take to the corporate powers-that-be."
"It would be such a pity if they shut it down. You know, it being your last year here and all," Marco said. He just had to get that last jab in, didn't he?
Laforge's head snapped up from his perusal of the omelet bar. "What do you mean my 'last year?'"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I was misinformed. I thought I heard you were leaving the pageant?" Marco blinked innocently.
Laforge's jaw tensed, though his eyes
I covered a very unladylike snort. "Point taken."
Marco was dressed today in a pair of white pleather Bermuda shorts, white loafers with no socks, and screaming neon turquoise baby-doll T-shirt that read: Queen. While I recognized it as one of the Miss Hawaiian Paradise promotional shirts, I was pretty sure Marco was enjoying the double entendre.
I gave my order of a Denver omelet, complete with ham (Aren't diet gurus always tell you to eat more protein?), cheese (What woman doesn't need more calcium, right?), and green peppers (Vegetables! I'm sure these were almost as good for the skin as kale.). My mouth was beginning to water from the heavenly scents as I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Good morning, Maddie."
I turned to find Laforge striding up to the omelet station. In all honesty, I was a little surprised he remembered my name from our brief introduction when I'd first arrived on the island.
"Good morning," I said, mustering up my most cheerful voice for my boss-for-a-week.
"I trust there were no more incidents this morning?" While the words were benign enough, the tone in his voice sounded almost as if he blamed me for finding Miss Montana.
"Not so far," I said, punctuating it with a smile.
"Hmm." Laforge pursed his lips together. Clearly he did not appreciate my attempt at levity.
As with yesterday Laforge was dressed in a pair of skintight pants that I could easily see helping him sweat away an extra ten pounds by the time the afternoon humidity hit. He'd topped it off with a pale pink button-up shirt, unbuttoned one too low for my taste, reminding me of a '70s disco king. An image that was further reinforced by the large gold medallion hanging around his neck and the pair of expensive sunglasses perched on his nose, almost completely obscuring his eyes from view. I wondered if they were for fashion or if Laforge was nursing a hangover.
"I'd like you to meet my good friend, Marco," I said, tactfully changing the subject as I turned to my companion.
Laforge gave Marco a quick up and down. "I see you're enjoying our promotional Tshirts," he said, just that hint of West Hollywood style bitchiness in his voice.
"I feel like a diva in it," Marco answered cheerfully.
"You look like a diva in it," Laforge said, though I wasn't sure it was exactly a compliment.
I could tell Marco caught the tone in his voice as well, as he squared his shoulders, narrowed his eyes, and pasted on a smile more fake than Miss Arkansas's breasts. "It takes a diva to appreciate one, doesn't it, dahling ?" Marco asked, gesturing to Laforge’s conspicuous sunglasses. "Indoor shades. Very drama."
"Hmm," Laforge mumbled through a smile that matched Marco's insincerity. "I'd say Prada is always appropriate, isn't it?"
"Practically timeless," Marco retorted. "You know, unless they're from last year's collection."
Laforge's eyes narrowed. Marco's smile grew bigger and sassier.
I could quickly see this turning into a fashion face-off and decided to intervene before my friend diva-ed me right out of a job.
"Any word yet on whether or not the pageant will go on as scheduled?" I asked, again using my brilliant subject-changing skills.
Laforge let out a deep sigh. "Sadly, no. I'm meeting with the detective in charge of the case later this morning, and hopefully they will give me something I can take to the corporate powers-that-be."
"It would be such a pity if they shut it down. You know, it being your last year here and all," Marco said. He just had to get that last jab in, didn't he?
Laforge's head snapped up from his perusal of the omelet bar. "What do you mean my 'last year?'"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I was misinformed. I thought I heard you were leaving the pageant?" Marco blinked innocently.
Laforge's jaw tensed, though his eyes
Similar Books
