Part 12 (1/2)
”Did they tell you about the coroner's report? That Thomasina was poisoned that morning and not the night before?”
Uncle Graham nodded. ”They're aware. It's not relevant.”
Cangemi came out and had the nerve to smile at her. Laura didn't get to ask why night and morning were the same thing.
CHAPTER 11.
”We are not going to talk about your sister at all. Whatever you need to know, you can get through her lawyer. I'm going to ask you things, and you're going to think they implicate her. So I want you to know, I'll see it if you're lying to protect her.” Cangemi put two fingers to his eyes, then used them to point to her.
”She's not a murderer.”
He slipped a booklet from a manila envelope and slid it toward her. A naked female waist, as seen from behind just above the b.u.t.t cleavage, made her think immediately of p.o.r.nography. But the rest sparkled in soft pink, floral and lace, strawberries and cream. The script at the top, rendered in deep mauve with a lens flare in the corner, said The Pandora Agency.
”Okay?” she asked.
”Have you ever seen this before?”
She took the opportunity to flip through the booklet. It was about thirty pages long, in an expensive matte finish. There were about twelve girls, each with a two-page spread. The photography was totally professional, as was the presentation of the girls, despite the lascivious cover. She flipped to the back page, where the real information would be. She caught an address in Belgium, a couple of funny European phone numbers, and a New York address-277 Park Avenue, 17th floor, the building with the atrium. Below that were three names. She only caught the head of the agency, who was none other than Sabine Fosh.
”Oh, look,” Laura said. ”No pictures of Ruby, and Thomasina's fake name right here. What do you want? A cookie?”
”You're a pit bull, you know that?”
She couldn't help but be flattered. ”My sister spends half an hour picking a nail color.” She pushed the modeling catalog toward him. ”Ruby isn't Sabine Fosh. That was Thomasina. You know that from the wallet. I mean, this is like... wait. You think they were in on this whole thing together, and they had a business dispute, and Ruby killed Thomasina over it? Really? Have you met my sister?”
”What I think isn't important.”
”Yeah, and did you talk to Bob Schmiller before throwing my sister under the bus?”
Cangemi cringed and s.h.i.+fted in his seat, as if jolted by a shot of discomfort.
”You okay?” Laura asked.
”Just this huge pain in my a.s.s since you walked in the room.”
Everyone's a G.o.dd.a.m.n comedian. Laura tapped the top of the booklet. ”I've never seen this before.”
He pushed it back toward her. ”What about the girls? Seen any of them before?”
She took the book back reluctantly. She wanted to see the girls, but she didn't want to look too eager. Cangemi seemed to know her and her curiosity streak all too well. The girls were a uniformly feminine type, with yards of sheened, slightly curled hair. The agency was apparently not for supermodels or runway stars. Big eyes. Perfect skin. There were no exceptional looks. No girls with a big honking wedge of a nose planted on an otherwise perfect face. No characters. Nothing striking or shocking.
Except their ages.
Laura held up a picture. ”Do you think she got her period yet?”
”Third period math?”
She huffed. They were babies. Totally not MAAB-ready. Photoshop could take years off a middle-aged woman, and s.l.u.tty makeup could add a couple to a girl, but the babies in the brochure were dewy and sweet. Possibly they were of age, but no man with a heart or moral compa.s.s would take one to dinner. And no man with a fear of the law would take one to bed.
”I know her,” Laura said, pressing the page open on a girl with brown eyes the size of meatb.a.l.l.s. ”I met her at Baxter City. She was with Rolf Wente.”
Cangemi took the booklet to get a better look. ”Baxter City, huh? You're was.h.i.+ng windows on the side?”
”They have this really nice red African tea. You should try it next time you go.”
He smiled. It was the best reaction she'd ever gotten from him after a wisecrack.
”So, were she and Rolf business or personal?” he asked.
”Depends on what business you're in.”
”Catch her real name?”
”No, unless it's really Susannah, which I doubt. She was just giving Penelope Sidewinder the fan treatment.”
He nodded as if he knew the reviewer by name, and maybe he did, working Midtown South. He had to pick up something from the garment center.
”Did you ever tell me your real name?” she asked. ”The first? The one your mom uses to call you?”
”I told you.”
”Your mother calls you Detective?”
”Only when I bring her in for questioning.”
”So,” Laura said, knowing she sounded like a guy making a pickup line to someone completely out of his league, ”you think Thomasina and my sister were repping underage girls and putting them on a runway? Then my sister got p.i.s.sed and killed Thomasina because she's just like that.”
”It's a cutthroat business.”
”I thought she was poisoned.”
”You're just a pistol. Who signed the contracts for your girls?”
”To be honest, I picked girls for their body type. Once I laid that down, Ruby was in charge of the models. She said she was getting everyone from Roquelle's agency, and all the contracts I signed were from Mermaid. I didn't count the contracts, and I only read one. So I'm not saying one or two didn't slip through from somewhere else, but I think if we were getting girls from Pandora, Ruby would've mentioned it, especially if she was a partner or whatever you think she is.”
He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. She saw from his expression that he was trying to weave together strands of knowledge, and what p.i.s.sed her off was that it was knowledge she didn't have.
”I could help you if you'd tell me everything,” she said, swinging for the fences.
”You think?”
”Yeah. I could tell you something.”
”Odds are pretty good I know it already.”