1 Assault with a Deadly Glue Gun Read Online Free

Vandenburg breezed into the room
and made a production of settling herself into the chair next to
Erica. Her derision sounded in her voice and showed on her face.
    She wore a calf-length handkerchief dress of vermillioncolored raw silk. A plunging neckline showcased an enormous
tear-drop shaped diamond nestled between her breasts. Somewhat
smaller matching diamonds hung from each ear. A diamond clip
pulled back her chin-length platinum layered haircut on one side
of her face.
    I glanced at Hugo. Was that drool I noticed on the corner of his
mouth?
    Naomi didn't bother to conceal her annoyance. "Nice of you to
join us, Marlys, even if you are three hours late. And a bit overdressed."

    "As I'm sure you're well aware, previews for Fashion Week
began today. I had an interview at Cartier first thing this morning.
Didn't Erica mention that?" She glared at her assistant.
    Erica's eyes grew wide, her voice squeaked in protest. "But I
didn't know."
    Marlys, who stood nearly six feet in three-inch stilettos, literally looked down her nose as she graced Erica with a sneer. "You
would if you did your job properly."
    Her lips turned up into a too-saccharine sweet smile as she fingered the expensive bauble between her breasts. "Beautiful, isn't
it?" she asked no one in particular. "The diamonds are from Cartier's newest collection. On loan to me for a late dinner with Emil
Pachette this evening. He's agreed to give me an exclusive."
    "An exclusive what?" I asked, unable to resist. Titters sounded
around the room.
    Cloris McWerther, our Food editor, elbowed me in the ribs.
"Naughty Anastasia," she whispered.
    "You're just jealous I beat you to the punch," I whispered back.
    "An exclusive interview," snapped Marlys. "I don't suppose
someone like you has ever heard of Emil Pachette, but he's the
brightest new star to hit the fashion scene in a decade. By this time
next year everyone will be wearing couture from the House of Pachette."
    She turned to Naomi. "And if we weren't exiled to this godforsaken no-man's-land, I'd have time to return home to change before my dinner date. Or perhaps you expect me to show up wearing denim?"

    Not that Marlys had ever shown up for work on time when we
were located in Manhattan, but Naomi chose not to mention that
fact. "Let's get back to the issue," she said.
    "Just a minute," said Marlys. "What's this about tacky hostess
aprons? That's so seventies. What's next? Palazzo pants? Do it yourself disco balls?" This time I was the recipient of one of her sneers.
    Marlys considered my monthly contributions to the magazine
a waste of editorial space. In her effort to grab more pages for herself, she'd launched a campaign to eliminate my department.
Luckily, Hugo and Naomi had fought for me and the value of the
craft section to our readers. However, I had no reason to believe
she'd given up her quest now that we had new owners. Especially if
the rumors about her current bed partner were true.
    Given my dire financial situation, I should have restrained my
sarcastic tongue. I couldn't afford to lose my job. Too bad I hadn't
thought of that before I gave Marlys one more reason to hate me.
    Naomi gave her a brief recap of our plans for the July issue.
    Marlys's voice rose two octaves. Her face suffused with a color
akin to her dress. "Denim and bandanas? Over my dead body!
Where do you suggest we hold the fashion shoot? Dogpatch?"
    She slapped her hand onto the table. "We are not featuring
denim and bandanas. I won't allow it."
    Naomi sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers under her
chin. Somehow she managed to keep her voice calm and controlled as she spoke, but I'm sure the effort nearly killed her. "I
happen to be the editor-in-chief of this magazine, Marlys. I make
the decisions, not you."
    "We'll see about that." Marlys rose from her chair and stormed
out of the conference room, slamming the door behind her.

    As the rest of us squirmed nervously in our chairs, Naomi