Read Online Deadly in High Heels by Gemma Halliday - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gemma Halliday
Tags: General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, cozy mystery, Weddings - Planning, Women fashion designers
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were still obscured behind last year's Prada shades. "I don't know what you think you heard, but, trust me, I'm not going anywhere."
I raised an eyebrow and silently wondered if Miss Montana's death had anything to do with Laforge's current confidence that he would be staying on as pageant director next year.
"Who told you I was leaving?" Laforge demanded.
Marco looked to me.
"Uhh…" I paused, not sure I wanted to rat out Jeffries. While he was definitely bar-slime, I wasn't sure I wanted to make an enemy of the soap star. Especially if he was Miss Montana's secret-lover-slash-killer.
"It was Dempsey, wasn't it?" Laforge's eyes searched the room, as if expecting to see Dempsey pop up at one of the tables. "That up-start hack has been gunning for a director's position ever since Jennifer's first pageant win."
"Hack?" I asked, jumping on the word.
"Listen, Jennifer was winning because Jennifer was good. It had absolutely nothing to do with Dempsey's coaching." He paused, a sneer curling his lips. "Just ask Dempsey how many winners he's coached in the past. Trust me the zero he gives you will be fatter than his bloated gut."
With that, Laforge turned on heel and stomped out of the room, sans breakfast.
"Geez, someone's panties are in a bunch this morning," Marco mumbled.
"Yeah, well, at the risk of them bunching me right out of a job, keep your Prada comments to yourself, Joan Ranger."
Marco blinked innocently at me. "Who, moi ?"
*
While Marco and I indulged in our omelets, Dana joined us with a plate of fresh fruit, plain yogurt, and organic granola with little bits of what looked like birdseed in it.
"Any word on the pageant yet?" she asked, voicing what was clearly on everyone's minds morning.
I shook my head. "Still up in the air."
"At least according to La Director La Passé," Marco added.
Dana arched a questioning eyebrow.
"Don't ask," I told her. "Marco met Laforge earlier." I quickly filled her in on Laforge's insistence that he was staying on as pageant director and the information he'd divulged about Jennifer being Dempsey's meal ticket.
"Hmm," Dana said, chewing on this development as her jaw worked on her crunchy granola. "If that's true, Dempsey definitely wouldn't have any reason to want Jennifer out of the way."
"But Laforge might," Marco pointed out. "Like Jeffries said, if Laforge wanted to tarnish Dempsey's reputation, killing his only successful client might go a long way toward that end."
"But we only have Jeffries' word for the fact that Dempsey was even in the running for director," I pointed out. "And who knows if Jeffries was just trying to divert suspicion from himself? I still think he's the most likely candidate for Jennifer's lover on the lowdown."
Dana shook her head. "Honestly, I just cannot believe that a judge would be sleeping with a contestant," she said, doing more crunching.
"I have to ask—are you eating birdseed?"
Dana pursed her brow at me. "What?"
"The little brown flecks in your granola. Birdseed?"
"Flax seed. It's super high in omega-3 oil," she said around another crunchy bite.
"It's also stuck in your teeth," Marco kindly told her, gesturing between his own two front teeth with a perfectly manicured pointer finger.
I was about to point out that the kale hadn't been terrifically kind to Marco's own Pearly Whites, when my cell started Vogue-ing from my pocket. I pulled it out to find a new text from Mom.
15 a miracle cans were killed overstays list beer
I blinked at the text. I had no clue.
What? I reluctantly texted back.
A couple of seconds later I got: sorry. Auto type not twerking write.
I stifled a snort. You mean "not working right?"
There was a pause, then: Right.
Try turning autotype off I suggested.
A few minutes later a new text pinged in. 15 Americans were killed overseas last year
I barely stifled an eye roll.
I'm not overseas I texted back. I'm just by the sea I added, looking out the window at the beautiful blue waves crashing
I raised an eyebrow and silently wondered if Miss Montana's death had anything to do with Laforge's current confidence that he would be staying on as pageant director next year.
"Who told you I was leaving?" Laforge demanded.
Marco looked to me.
"Uhh…" I paused, not sure I wanted to rat out Jeffries. While he was definitely bar-slime, I wasn't sure I wanted to make an enemy of the soap star. Especially if he was Miss Montana's secret-lover-slash-killer.
"It was Dempsey, wasn't it?" Laforge's eyes searched the room, as if expecting to see Dempsey pop up at one of the tables. "That up-start hack has been gunning for a director's position ever since Jennifer's first pageant win."
"Hack?" I asked, jumping on the word.
"Listen, Jennifer was winning because Jennifer was good. It had absolutely nothing to do with Dempsey's coaching." He paused, a sneer curling his lips. "Just ask Dempsey how many winners he's coached in the past. Trust me the zero he gives you will be fatter than his bloated gut."
With that, Laforge turned on heel and stomped out of the room, sans breakfast.
"Geez, someone's panties are in a bunch this morning," Marco mumbled.
"Yeah, well, at the risk of them bunching me right out of a job, keep your Prada comments to yourself, Joan Ranger."
Marco blinked innocently at me. "Who, moi ?"
*
While Marco and I indulged in our omelets, Dana joined us with a plate of fresh fruit, plain yogurt, and organic granola with little bits of what looked like birdseed in it.
"Any word on the pageant yet?" she asked, voicing what was clearly on everyone's minds morning.
I shook my head. "Still up in the air."
"At least according to La Director La Passé," Marco added.
Dana arched a questioning eyebrow.
"Don't ask," I told her. "Marco met Laforge earlier." I quickly filled her in on Laforge's insistence that he was staying on as pageant director and the information he'd divulged about Jennifer being Dempsey's meal ticket.
"Hmm," Dana said, chewing on this development as her jaw worked on her crunchy granola. "If that's true, Dempsey definitely wouldn't have any reason to want Jennifer out of the way."
"But Laforge might," Marco pointed out. "Like Jeffries said, if Laforge wanted to tarnish Dempsey's reputation, killing his only successful client might go a long way toward that end."
"But we only have Jeffries' word for the fact that Dempsey was even in the running for director," I pointed out. "And who knows if Jeffries was just trying to divert suspicion from himself? I still think he's the most likely candidate for Jennifer's lover on the lowdown."
Dana shook her head. "Honestly, I just cannot believe that a judge would be sleeping with a contestant," she said, doing more crunching.
"I have to ask—are you eating birdseed?"
Dana pursed her brow at me. "What?"
"The little brown flecks in your granola. Birdseed?"
"Flax seed. It's super high in omega-3 oil," she said around another crunchy bite.
"It's also stuck in your teeth," Marco kindly told her, gesturing between his own two front teeth with a perfectly manicured pointer finger.
I was about to point out that the kale hadn't been terrifically kind to Marco's own Pearly Whites, when my cell started Vogue-ing from my pocket. I pulled it out to find a new text from Mom.
15 a miracle cans were killed overstays list beer
I blinked at the text. I had no clue.
What? I reluctantly texted back.
A couple of seconds later I got: sorry. Auto type not twerking write.
I stifled a snort. You mean "not working right?"
There was a pause, then: Right.
Try turning autotype off I suggested.
A few minutes later a new text pinged in. 15 Americans were killed overseas last year
I barely stifled an eye roll.
I'm not overseas I texted back. I'm just by the sea I added, looking out the window at the beautiful blue waves crashing
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