Page 21 of Accidental Murder
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Before breaking into her townhouse,Kayla had to attend to Ashley’s affairs. Chin held high, she strode into Thornton Modeling Inc. She’d never visited before. The oversized pictures on the wall of Margaret Thornton, one of the highest-paid models in the seventies, were remarkable. The prospective female clients sitting in colorful chairs on either side of the foyer were gorgeous.
First impressions, Ashley had told Kayla, were everything. Acting as if she belonged, she strutted to the twenty-something receptionist, who clearly was an aficionado of red. Everything from her nails to her clothing to her ombre-tinted hair was a shade of red. Searching for a nameplate on the desk and finding none, Kayla wondered if she should know the woman’s name.
Fake it.
She tapped her nails on the blotter. “Hey.” Ashley had often started sentences with the wordhey. “Is Margaret in? I’ve got to talk to her.”
The receptionist’s mouth turned down in a frown. “Sorry about your sister, Ash. It’s all over the news. What a shock.”
“Yeah,” Kayla murmured.
The young woman pressed an intercom button. “Margaret, Ashley Macintyre is here.”
“Send her back.”
The receptionist pushed a button and a strident buzz resonated from above a blue set of double doors. “You know the way.”
Kayla didn’t, but she would figure it out. She pushed through the doors and paused. An expansive office stood at the end of the hallway, its double doors wide open. That had to be it. She started toward it. The doors to each office she passed stood ajar. A couple of people offered supportive waves. She gestured in response and continued on. She stopped in the doorway.
Margaret, at least five-eleven, was pacing in stiletto heels beside the window, cell phone in hand. Everything about her impressed Kayla, from her classy suit to her chic chignon. Her hair was like flawless flaxen, her skin remarkable for a woman her age.
Unwilling to disturb what sounded like a negotiation, Kayla stayed put and drank in the cheery office décor. Sunlight gleamed through the windows. Tropical plants thrived in oversized pots. She wondered how well Margaret had known Ashley. Would she, Kayla, mess up by offering the simplest detail?
“Great models are not a dime a dozen, you skinflint,” Margaret said. “Pay the price or get another girl.” On her next pivot, she caught sight of Kayla. “I’ll call you back.” She set the phone in its cradle and beckoned Kayla to enter. “Ashley, darling.”
Kayla tripped over the threshold.
Margarettsked. “You act as if you’ve never walked in high heels before. New?”
“They’re from a shoot,” Kayla vamped. “Anne Klein.” Often Ashley had told her about the clothes she could purchase aftera modeling job. The names of high-end designers would roll off her tongue.
Not Kayla’s.
“What am I thinking?” Margaret tinged red. “Now isn’t the time for lighthearted banter.” She crossed to her and hugged her. Stiffly. “I’m so sorry for your loss. You must be devastated.” According to Ashley, her agent was not the demonstrative type. Margaret remained cool under fire, which was the kind of person Ashley had wanted handling contracts. “Sit.” Margaret nabbed Kayla’s elbow and guided her into a chair. Then she leaned against her desk, both hands gripping the edge to provide balance. “You told me once that Kayla worked in a perilous business.”
A conversation with Ashley a week ago came back to haunt Kayla.You go to clients’ houses alone. How do you know they aren’t rapists or murderers?She’d chided her sister for constantly worrying. Now, she wondered whether Ashley had been right.
“How are you?” Margaret asked.
“I’m coping.”
“You’re pale. Is it any wonder? And your eyes.”
Kayla stiffened. The gig was up. If anyone would know she was a phony, Margaret would. How many close-up photographs of her sister had the woman appraised?
“Tears strip a woman’s eyes of moisture,” Margaret continued. “It’ll take at least forty-eight hours to repair them. And your hair. What did you do, style it with pinking shears in the dark?”
“I slept on it wrong.”
“Don’t kid a kidder.” Margaret shook her finger as a warning. “I’ve told you to keep on the two-week haircut schedule or else. And stop chewing your lips. That mouth is worth at least a hundred thousand a year.”
Kayla sat taller, feeling like a schoolgirl being admonished by the headmistress. What Ashley must have gone through to stay on top.
Margaret sighed. “I’ll see if I can postpone the Maybelline shoot.”
Kayla sucked in a tiny breath. What shoot? When? Where?
