“She’s poison to you, man, and don’t you forget it.” He spoke aloud and then left the men’s room in search of Arsenic Hallie. Too bad he was looking forward to his next dose.
He rounded a corner then did a two-step dodge. “Oops! Didn’t mean to almost bowl you over.”
Vince stopped and laughed. “We need traffic lights around here.”
Brody scowled and poked the man’s thick chest. “I’ve got a major bone to pick with you. You told Hallie how to get to Damon’s mom’s house.”
“So?” Vince shrugged. “She’d have found out some other way if I didn’t cough up. Besides, her return favor got me to the police station in time to catch you escorting the prize of the day into the slammer. You know how these favor things work in this business.”
“Yes, I know how things work, and yes, she would have found the address on her own eventually, but not in time to drive into that neighborhood after me in the dead of night. Do you have any idea how badly that could have turned out for her?”
“She didn’t!”
“Next time you carelessly give her the means to put herself in danger, I will personally wring your neck.”
Vince leveled an assessing gaze on Brody. A sly grin crept over his rugged mug.
“What?” Brody crossed his arms.
“You got it bad for our lovely feature reporter. Can’t say I blame you. If I wasn’t happily married—”
Brody stalked off, trailed by a spurt of hyena laughter from that off-base crime reporter.
He didn’t find Hallie in her cubicle and wandered the halls until he came upon her in the lobby, talking to Daria, the receptionist. As he approached the tall reception counter, Rick, the security guard, looked up from his kiosk opposite the front desk and nodded. Brody returned the gesture and kept going. The hushed conversation between Hallie and Daria seemed animated, with the receptionist gesturing so that the many bangles on her wrist flashed under the fluorescent lights. Other than the raised hand, the flame-topped head was the only part of the woman visible behind the high counter with the huge letters WDJN embossed across the outside. Hallie leaned toward her, elbows on the desktop, as if hanging on every word. Brody came within hearing range and caught a few words from Daria.
“We’re already getting phone calls from irate basketball fans.” The woman looked up, spotted him, and shrank back against her seat.
“Hey, don’t worry about me,” Brody said. “I want to hear whatever you know.”
Hallie glanced over her shoulder, and her darkened gaze speared through him. “People don’t want to admit that their sports idols could be lousy human beings.”
He pressed his lips together against a sharp retort. Hallie was doing him a favor today. He didn’t need to screw it up with his big mouth.
“Oh, most of them aren’t defending Lange.” Daria fluttered red-painted fingernails. “They feel betrayed by him. Folks do care about their Golden Gophers. Hits ’em hard when one of their heroes goes down.” She pursed a rouged mouth in Brody’s direction. “I’m not too surprised tragedy happened between Damon Lange and Alicia Drayton, considering what I saw.”
Hallie leaned closer. “You knew them?”
“No, not personally. Lange brought her with him when he came in to tape a segment a while back. The lovebirds were going at it tooth and nail when they left here.”
Brody groaned. “They were so good together during the session. Must not have lasted much past the studio door.”
“They were fighting?” Hallie asked.
“Raised voices, nasty words, threatening gestures. My heart galloped sixty miles an hour.” Daria pressed a hand against her chest. “I thought things might get physical. Rick started coming toward them, but they charged right through and took it outside. Isn’t that right, Rick?”
The security guard looked up from his screen. “Just about got me my first collar in this tame joint.” He grinned and went back to his monitor.
Hallie frowned toward Brody. He kept his expression noncommittal, but on the inside, his heart sank. Oh, Damon, when will you ever learn to rein in your temper? Of course, Alicia could be quite the piece of work, but neither of these ladies had any way to know that yet.
“What was the fight about?” Hallie nodded toward Daria.
“From what little I could make out,” she glanced from Hallie to Brody and back again, “Damon was steamed that Alicia was late for his championship game because she was ‘too busy batting her eyes at runway groupies.’”
“Runway groupies? Hmm.” Hallie tapped a manicured nail against the marble counter. “Jealousy. That’s a powerful motive for murder. Maybe this Minnesota model story has more to do with the killing than I expected.” Her glance grazed Brody and continued toward the wall clock. “We need to leave soon if we’re not going to be late for our appointment.” She returned her attention to the receptionist. “Has Stan come in?”
“Bright and early. He went off to polish up Norman.” Daria snickered. “He should break down and adopt that camera. The way he babies it and even has the thing named, no judge in the world would deny his request.”
Brody chuckled and Hallie laughed. “He should get hitched and have a human baby,” she said. “Life would get into perspective awfully quickly.”
“Says the pot to the kettle, Miss Workaholic. Happy birthday, by the way. Time turns backward for no one.”
Brody smacked his forehead. “I should have been the first one to say that to you today.”
Hallie shot him a lopsided smirk. “You’re excused. You’ve had a few things on your mind.”
“There you are.” Stan stepped into the reception area, camera case in one hand and accessories bag hanging from a shoulder. “Thought maybe you’d sleep in after yesterday’s excitement, Hallie.”
“Not hardly.” Hallie shook her head. “Places to go, people to see. Remember?”
“Always! We keeping on with that Minnesota model story? Norman sure won’t mind filming a few beautiful women.” He grinned and patted his camera.
“We are, and we’ve got company coming along.” She jerked a thumb at Brody.
Stan’s eyes widened. “Well, well, there’s a new team at WDJN.”
Brody frowned, and Hallie’s expression mimicked his. At least they were in agreement that there was no agreement.
SIX
“Thank you for showing us around the training center.” Hallie followed Monique Rimes, head of Monique Modeling Agency into her thickly carpeted office. Brody and Stan followed behind. “The career of a model looks fascinating and challenging.”
If one liked being poked, prodded, contorted, barked at, dressed and undressed like a fashion doll, and starved half to death. Not that she’d voice that personal opinion. Ms. Monique, as she invited them to call her, had been all that was gracious in showing them around the academy and agency headquarters located in Plymouth, a western suburb of Minneapolis. Stan had gotten some nice footage of models in training.
“My pleasure. I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves.” The silver-haired agent executed a model-style pivot and rested the pads of long fingers against the top of her desk. “Is there anything more I can do for you?” The print on her silk, button-up dress consisted of swatches of wide charcoal-gray-and-white stripes traveling in opposing directions, set off by an oversized collar and cuffs. The getup might have looked ridiculous on another figure, but the style added softness and curves to an angular body. The woman did know fashion.
“Just a few words with you. Perhaps we could stand over there.” Hallie pointed toward a case containing trophies and plaques.
Ms. Monique’s smile bloomed around impossibly white teeth. “Excellent idea.”
They took up positions that allowed the camera to catch most of the awards as well as the two of them. Brody stood back next to Stan, arms crossed. Hallie couldn’t fault the man’s behavior this morning. He’d been quiet and unobtrusive throughout the interview, even though he must be bursting with questions he’d been hop
ing to ask the agent.
Hallie faced Ms. Monique, and the camera rolled. She asked about the contents of the case. Ms. Monique gestured extravagantly and gushed on for ten minutes about the agency’s accomplishments over the years.
Hallie inserted appropriate exclamations then touched Ms. Monique’s animated arm. “Before we wrap this up, I think we’d be out of line if we didn’t address the pink elephant that’s been following us around all morning.”
A delicate moue flitted over the agent’s narrow mouth. “You mean about the untimely—er—loss of one of our models?”
“Exactly. How will Alicia’s sudden absence affect your schedule?”
A slight frown hinted at wrinkles lurking beneath the artfully applied makeup. “Those who knew her and worked with her are very saddened by her death. She was a tremendous asset to this agency and to the modeling profession.”
“So she will be difficult to replace.”
Ms. Monique huffed and met Hallie’s gaze beneath lowered brows. “Could we take this conversation off the record?”
Hallie hesitated. Maybe cooperation would yield surprising dividends. “Certainly.” She turned toward her cameraman. “Stan, could you stop the film?”
“Sure thing.” Stan lowered his camera.
Brody dropped his arms to his side and straightened. Hallie met his gaze, and he nodded in support of her decision.
Ms. Monique issued a pained grimace in Hallie’s direction. “You must understand that this is a very fluid business. Highly competitive. Many talented individuals are after the limited slots offered for television and movie spots, catalogs and runway models. Any individual, even one as gifted as Alicia, is only a drop in the sea. Remove that drop, and others instantly rush in to fill the void.”
Brody took a step forward, and Hallie moved aside. Might as well see where this new direction was going.
“Did she have any enemies that would want to hurry that process along?” he said.
The agent’s nostrils flared. “No more than anyone else who naturally excels at what they do in a competitive field. And certainly no one who would have beaten and strangled her merely to wear her outfits at the next fashion revue.”
“So you’re implying there was rivalry,” Hallie said, “but not deadly rivalry.”
“Who felt the most threatened by her talents?” Brody added.
Ms. Monique curled her upper lip and glared first at Brody and then at Hallie. “I am not going to dignify either of those questions with an answer. The point is that a beautiful young woman is dead.” Her mouth drooped and she sighed. “I can hardly believe she’s gone. And that her young man—” The woman shook her head. “Inconceivable that such a thing could have happened.”
“Inconceivable?” Hallie said. “I thought everyone knew Damon and Alicia had a troubled relationship.”
“What I mean is a person never thinks that someone they know is going to be murdered. And I’m not sure I would have characterized the relationship between those two as ‘troubled.’ More like…unusual.”
Brody nodded like he knew exactly what the agent meant.
Swallowing irritation, she smiled at Ms. Monique. “How so?”
The agent went to her desk and settled into her leather chair. At the woman’s gesture, Hallie took a seat opposite the desk, and Brody appropriated the other guest chair.
Ms. Monique cleared her throat and steepled her fingers in front of her. “Alicia was a highly disciplined young woman, as you need to be in order to last long in this business. A model must pay constant attention to diet and exercise and training. She was scrupulously punctual for every appointment, analyzed each paycheck to the last decimal point and gave a hundred and ten percent to every client. If Alicia had a fault…”
She pulled off her glasses and tapped the frames against her desktop. “See, I don’t care to criticize the dead, at least not for public consumption.” Her gaze swept toward the dormant camera and back to Hallie and Brody. “Other than a few freckles on her nose that we covered with makeup, our biggest issue with Alicia was getting passion out of her. If anything, she was too cool, too controlled. When we wanted an ice queen look, she was our go-to model. If we needed heat, we…well, perhaps an illustration might tell the most compelling story.” The agent reached for a portfolio on the corner of her desk, opened it, and pulled out a short stack of eight-by-ten photos. She selected two from among them and laid them out on the desk.
Alicia filled both pictures. Her rich, auburn hair floated around her exquisite face. Her smooth skin glowed fresh and peachy. The sleek lines of her neck and arms flowed gracefully in differing poses against dissimilar backgrounds. But that wasn’t the contrast that arrested Hallie.
In the shot on the left, every elegant plane of Alicia’s face, the form of her full lips, and the expression in those vivid emerald eyes screamed, “Do not touch!” In the photo on the right, the mouth softened, pouted, sassed, and her eyes sparkled like every facet of a finely cut gem exposed to light. Both photos were arresting, but only one exuded zest for life.
Hallie looked up at the modeling agent. “What made the difference?”
Brody made a humming sound. “I may have a glimmer what it was.”
Hallie frowned at him and returned her attention to Ms. Monique.
The agent smiled. “Whenever we needed fire out of Alicia, we invited Damon to the shoot. He’d walk in and—” She spread her hands toward the picture on Hallie’s right. “Sometimes, when he wasn’t available to come in person, we’d just get her started talking about him, and the same effect would happen. Sure, they fought epic battles, but without him, Alicia was a masterpiece carved in stone. With him, she softened into flesh and fire. Amazing, isn’t it?”
Brody chuckled. “I was only around Alicia when she was with Damon, so I guess all I ever saw was the fire.”
Hallie touched the picture on the right. “It almost looks like Damon was good for her. How can that be when there was something so sick about the relationship that he turned around and killed her?”
“I don’t believe he did,” Brody said. “But I would have to admit that the fire wasn’t always to the good. She could be a real dragon-lady.”
Ms. Monique chuckled as she gathered up the photos. “Seems like you two have a major difference of opinion about who did what.” The agent lifted penciled brows in Hallie’s direction. “You’re the eye witness. Do you have any doubt about what happened?”
Hallie lifted her chin. “No. No, I don’t. I know what I saw.” Of course she did. Why did her stomach give that little flutter? Brody’s assertions about Damon’s innocence must have gotten to her more than she’d realized. She smiled at Ms. Monique, smirked at a tight-faced Brody, and crossed her legs. “I have a couple more questions, but these are of personal interest, so they need to remain off the record, too.”
“You’d like to become a model?” Ms. Monique beamed. “You’re starting late in life. I like to get them going in their teens or even younger, but nowadays there are more and more opportunities for the mature models. With that stunning complexion and the way you carry yourself, you certainly have po—”
“Nothing like that.” Hallie bit back a laugh. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a telltale tremble at the corners of Brody’s lips. Mature? She hadn’t planned on hearing those words spoken about herself in that tone of voice until she was ready for Social Security.
The agent sniffed.
Hallie laughed. “I’m flattered right down to my pinky toe, Ms. Monique.” I think. “But I already know I haven’t got what it takes to be a model.”
“I don’t agree with that statement.” Brody’s teeth gleamed. He’d lost his fight against the grin. “I was just thinking yesterday that she’d be fabulous on the runway.”
Hallie wrinkled her nose at him. “Are you fishing for ways to get on my good side?”
The older woman laughed. “So if I can’t turn you into a runway goddess, then what can I do for you?”
Hallie hesitated. Now she’d have to air her private issue in front of Brody. She cast him a sidelong glance. He gazed at her intently. What difference did it make if he knew about the bracelet? None, really. She shrugged. “I didn’t see it in those photos, so I don’t guess Alicia kept it on during shoots, but do you remember her showing up for work wearing a particular bracelet? This one would have been a couple of inches wide, made of contrasting shades of copper and brass, and engraved with—”
“Elephants?”
“That’s the one!” She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the desk. “Did she ever talk about it? Tell you why she wore the armband, where she got it?”
Ms. Monique cocked her head. “We never discussed any details about the piece. I admired it one day. She said thank you—it was special to her. Then she sort of hid it under her other hand and walked away. Why do you want to know?”
Hallie rubbed her hands against her beige suit pants. “I know I must seem deranged about this, but my mother made the bracelet. She’s been dead for years, and there’s no earthly reason I can think of that a stranger would have had the handcrafted ornament.”
“Ah, that is a puzzle.” The agent went back to steepling her fingers in front of her.
“Anyway.” Hallie stood up, and Brody rose beside her. She felt his speculative gaze on her but kept her focus on Ms. Monique. “Thank you for your time. This afternoon we’ll take in some of the actual shoots from the list you gave us.”
“Very good. Perhaps one of Alicia’s fellow models will know something about her jewelry.” The woman rose and extended her hand. Hallie took it, then the bony member clamped tight around Hallie’s. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t upset the girls by hinting that someone here had anything to do with Alicia’s tragic death. They didn’t, and they don’t need the distraction.”
Witness to Murder Page 5
