Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,65
the room and stopped, her carefully modulated greeting disappearing from her lips as her gaze came to rest on Tori. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you. We got off on the wrong foot with everything going on and I want to apologize. I realize Ashley was your friend and I also realize that it had to hurt to hear some of the things that were being said about her at Sally Davis’s birthday party.”
Regina’s mouth opened only to close just as quickly.
Tori gestured toward the window and the parking lot beyond, her mouth putting words to her epiphany. “I’ve been so busy trying to figure out how best to convince you and Chief Dallas that my friends are not guilty of her murder that I missed the fact that you lost a friend. For that, I’m truly sorry.”
The woman’s jaw tightened as a parade of emotions marched across her face. There was anger, surprise, uncertainty, and something else Tori couldn’t quite identify. But, in the end, Regina simply gestured toward the hallway from which she’d just come. “I can give you a few minutes, I suppose.”
“Thank you.” She pointed toward the pictures that encircled the waiting room. “It’s amazing to see the way your designs have taken off over the past”—she leaned toward the oldest picture—“five years. It has to be very satisfying.”
“It is. Especially now with the likes of Fredrique Mootally noticing Pageant Creations.”
“Fredrique Mootally?”
Regina waved her French-manicured hands in the air, beckoning Tori to follow. “Fredrique Mootally is only the most well-known adult pageant designer in the country. He is the go-to person for anyone wishing to win Miss America or Miss Universe or Miss Anything for that matter.”
Trailing behind the woman, Tori couldn’t help but take in the sights along the way—the framed designs found in the waiting room morphing into actual photographs with each passing step. “And now he’s noticing your company?”
“He wants to forge a partnership. A very lucrative, very prestigious partnership the likes of which will change everything in my life. And I do mean everything. Not the least of which is this dump.” Regina’s pace slowed momentarily as they approached an open door on the left, the narrow gold plaque above the entryway leaving no guesswork as to the room’s occupant.
Tori peeked inside, the stack of books and picture frames in the middle of the desk bringing a lump to her throat as Regina’s voice continued. “Not that Sweet Briar isn’t . . . lovely . . . for some people, because I know it is. But I’ve spent quite enough time here. It’s time to move somewhere bigger.”
At the end of the hall, Regina turned right, the click of her stiletto heels disappearing as they left the hardwood floor in favor of a plush wall-to-wall carpet. “Somewhere where people know what fashion is . . . and what it isn’t.”
Tori looked around, her mind absorbing every detail of the white walls and black lacquered furniture, their overall absence of color offset by the bright red carpet and red-matted artwork. “You don’t have to explain. I’m not from Sweet Briar. And while I appreciate many aspects of small-town living, there are quite a few things I miss about Chicago.” Leaning forward, she studied the impressionist painting on the wall behind Regina’s desk. “Namely the culture—the shows, the galleries, the museums, that sort of thing.”
“Then you can appreciate what an association with Fredrique Mootally can bring.” Regina dropped into her desk chair. “It’s like the difference between cooking hamburgers and dining on filet mignon every night.”
Tori nodded, her feet leading her toward the next crop of artwork. “I get that. I really do. And I’m happy for you.” She stopped as her gaze fell on a park sign propped against the far wall. “What’s that?”
Regina stiffened. “That’s something Ashley didn’t live to see.”
She stepped closer, the red and black signs beckoning to her from across the room. “Penelope’s Park? What does that mean?”
“It was the next step in Ashley’s ongoing quest to immortalize her daughter’s name.”
“Next step?”
“You saw the parking spot, didn’t you?” Regina flipped her laptop open on her desk and began tapping on the keyboard, her tone rising and falling with each click of the mouse. “Well, the park was the next logical step. She shelled out good money to have Sweet Briar Memorial removed from the sign and replaced with her daughter’s name.”
“Wow. I had no idea.” She soaked up every detail of the sign, imagined it