Free Killer Deal by Sheryl J. Anderson Page B

straying from the point of the interview, aren’t we?” Paula asked pointedly.
    The point of the official interview, sure, and I couldn’t think of a way to stay on the topic of Garth’s death that wouldn’t arouse Paula’s suspicion and further inflame Ronnie’s paranoia.
    “Right,” Ronnie said. “Let’s dish about Gwen.” Paula cut him a warning look, but he reached over and patted her hand sloppily. She slid her hands into her lap, out of his reach.
    “I’d like to get your impressions of Gwen as a businesswoman, moving forward with both the agency and her venture with Emile Trebask in the shadow of her husband’s death,” I said.
    “Ex-husband,” Paula corrected.
    “The papers were never signed.”
    “Unsigned papers’ll change your life,” Ronnie said lightly, making a visible effort to relax now that the conversation was moving away from the shooting. Though he professed affection for Gwen, he apparently didn’t fully embrace the thought of being her business partner.
    Running Garth’s company—without Garth—potentially put Ronnie in an enviable position in a hugely competitive field. But could he maintain that position? The aging posters
on the hallway walls made me wonder. “Even with Ms. Lincoln’s involvement, are you comfortable taking Mr. Henderson’s place?”
    Ronnie shook his head emphatically. “I’m not gonna try. He was one of a kind. But I can keep the firm moving ahead on the path he laid. As long as I still have those girls.”
    “Those girls?”
    Leaning back in his chair, Ronnie flashed me a grin. “You haven’t met the Harem?”
    “Ronnie, don’t—” Paula attempted, but Ronnie shrugged her off.
    There was a joke here I wasn’t in on, a fact Ronnie seemed to enjoy a great deal. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
    “Garth had an eye for beauty and an eye for talent. And a knack for finding both in one place. His creative directors are some of the most exquisite young women in advertising. The rest of us jealous bastards call them the Harem.”
    Visions of Bond girls danced in my head. Why, yes, she’s a nuclear scientist, but she’s a swimsuit model, too! Still, given GHInc.’s track record, whoever these lovelies were, they had to know their stuff.
    “You don’t approve,” Ronnie noted, making me aware I was not controlling my facial expressions.
    “I’m sure I just don’t appreciate the joke fully,” I said diplomatically.
    “That statement’s not for attribution,” Paula said firmly.
    “Relax, Paula, Molly isn’t here to get us into trouble. Besides, it’s not like it’s a secret.”
    “It’s less than professional,” Paula said, without indicating whether she was referring to the nickname or his delight in it.
    “Thing is, they’re the soul of that agency. I’m just hoping I can inspire them to anything like the heights Garth led them to. God knows I miss Garth, but I still have a company to run, a reputation to sustain, and I am gonna use each and every asset at my disposal to make sure that happens. Anyone brave enough to come along for the ride is absolutely
welcome.” Paula caught his eye and he took a deep breath. “Everything I have is in this now and I’m gonna make it work.”
    Did he want pity or respect? Or both? I did feel for him, the sum total of his professional life hanging in the balance because of Garth’s death. But a man with that much hanging in the balance was a man that much more likely to take desperate steps. Had he created the situation he was now proclaiming he could overcome? Brimming with questions I couldn’t ask, I went back to the subject at hand. “What does Gwen think of the … creative directors?”
    Ronnie’s thin lips twisted. “She recognizes them as a tremendous business asset,” he said with an utter lack of conviction, sounding like he was quoting from an annual report.
    Again, I tried to home in on the source of his discomfort. “Were any of them anything more to