Chapter 9

Washington Woman was the premiere women’s magazine of the Metro area. And their offices confirmed it. The furnishings were rich and tasteful, if somewhat subdued. Dashiell sat in a comfortable chair, drumming his fingers on a plush armrest. Regina sat across from him.

A secretary had taken their names and offered them a beverage of their choice. Dashiell had taken a Diet Coke. Regina had declined to drink anything.

His eyes scanned the office, trying to pick out their subject. Washington Woman was modeled on the open air design. A series of desks laid out in a grid, no walls, not even cubicles. There were offices arranged along the outer walls of the building, and in between the offices there was art, heavily representing female artists. Dashiell was no art critic, but he knew a Georgia O’Keefe when he saw one. And he thought he recognized some Frieda Kahlo.

“Where do you suppose she is?” he asked Regina. “I can’t imagine she’s got someplace else to be, with a deadline coming up.”

Regina glanced around. “I imagine she’s closeted with her editor, wondering why a Metro detective is asking to speak with her. And deciding what it is they’ll say to whatever it is we ask.”

The secretary who had first seated them walked back up. “If you’ll follow me, Detective Robbins, Detective Aldridge. Ms. Norton will see you in her office.”

“Ms. Norton?” Regina raised an eyebrow.

“She’s the Editor in Chief. She and Miss Hill are awaiting you.” The young woman indicated with her hand the direction Dashiell and Regina should head. Regina turned to Dashiell with an “I told you so” look on her face.

Dashiell had agreed that Regina should take the lead in this interview. It had nothing to do with Regina being a woman. Regina had suggested it because she had a badge and that tended to cut through a lot of bullshit. They also left the secretary with the misimpression that Dashiell was a fellow detective. It would cut down on questions.

They walked through a frosted glass door and saw two women in the office. One, clearly Ms. Norton, stood behind the large desk. Framed images of various covers hung on the walls. Ms. Norton was tall for a woman, nearly six feet, with long blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. She had black framed glasses perched on her nose, covering blue eyes.

“Gayle Norton,” she said, extending her hand to Regina, then Dashiell. “What can we do for you, detectives?” She included Miss Hill with a hand gesture.

Jessica Hill was sitting in front of her editor’s desk. She was dressed in a grey skirt suit. She had brown hair, hanging down around her shoulders. Her hands were folded calmly in her lap.

“We need to speak with Miss Hill,” Regina said. “About her interview with Elaine Scofield this morning.”

“Has Mrs. Scofield filed a complaint about something? I assure you, my reporter was entirely professional.”

“Mrs. Scofield hasn’t said anything,” Regina replied. “She’s dead.”

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