Page 22 of Accidental Murder
Margaret clucked her tongue. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“No. It’s just that?—”
“Of course. The trauma.”
The appointment had to be written in Ashley’s calendar. Kayla would find it.
Margaret folded her arms. “When’s the funeral?”
“I’m not sure when they’ll release her body.” On the drive to the agency, Kayla had left a message for Inspector Sergeant Hanrahan asking for a timeline. “I’m having a memorial service tomorrow at noon.” Before leaving Eve’s place, the two of them had worked out the details.
“So soon?”
“People get busy on weekends.”
“How true.”
“It will be at Mallard Lake in Golden Gate Park. It was one of my sister’s favorite spots.”
“I’ll be there.”
Margaret folded her hands in front of her. She had perfect nails and wore a diamond-studded watch. No rings, Kayla noted. Was Margaret married? Did she have family? Could she understand losing a sister?
“What else can I do for you?” Margaret asked. “There must be something.”
Kayla intended to contact all of her clients to tell them about the memorial service, believing if one of her male clients had killed Ashley, thinking it was her, he might slip up on the telephone. Eve warned that the police might figure out Kaylahad possession of her own cell phone. If questioned, she would tell the police she—Ashley—had forgotten her sister had given her a backup of her contacts, for emergencies. In the meantime, she would use burner phones or?—
“May I use a telephone?” Kayla asked. “My cell phone battery is low.”
“If you promise to see Guido ASAP.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Margaret smiled warmly. “Trust me, darling, I have your best interests at heart. You’ve got to keep busy. No brooding.”
“Got it.” Lots of people imagined work could help the bereaved handle sorrow. Kayla disagreed. With every loss, she’d learned avoidance postponed the process. No matter how long she put it off, grief would sneak up on her at the oddest times.
“Use Eric’s office. He’s in New York this week.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kayla strolledalong the carpeted hallway wondering how long she could keep up the pretense. Did she have to? Yes, finding Ashley’s killer depended on the deception. Her life depended on it, as well. Peeking into each office, hoping Margaret and the other agents wouldn’t notice, she searched for Eric’s.
An etched name on a glass door helped the process. She stepped inside. If the picture on the desk was any indication, Eric and the woman Kayla presumed was his wife used to be models. They were gorgeous. So was their preteen daughter. What a gene pool.
A rap on the doorframe startled Kayla. She spun around and faced a chubby man chewing an unlit cigar. “Ash, babe. I heard you were here.”
She didn’t know what to say.
After a long moment, he snapped his fingers. “Cat got your tongue? Perchance you don’t recognize me because I’ve lost so much weight.” He offered a profile and guffawed. “Say, ‘Hi, Walter.’”
“Hi, Walter.” Kayla couldn’t remember Ashley mentioning him. “My, you have shed a few pounds.”
“Forty. How are you holding up, kid?”
“How would you be?”
“Right, yeah. Death sucks.” Walter pulled a well-packed money clip from his pocket. “Need cash?”
