Cereal Killer

little while? Looks like I’m gonna have to lean on them to get Montoya’s blood type.”
    “You’re just afraid of that nurse, and you want backup.”
    “So? You want to go along or not?”
    “Sure. I’ll meet you over there in his parking lot in a hour.”
    By the time she had finished the conversation with him, she was standing in the hallway outside Leah’s offices.
    She dreaded this meeting, hated the thought of telling Leah Freed that she wasn’t cut out to be the next shooting star on the plus-fashion horizon. If Leah wanted her to continue to investigate, fine, but this ridiculous subterfuge had to end.
    Steeling herself, she entered the offices and was quickly directed to a small room in the rear of the suite.
    Leah Freed sat in front of a backlit table, peering at some photo slides with a strange-looking gadget that looked to Savannah like a cross between a magnifying glass and a jeweler’s loupe.
    When Savannah walked in, Leah glanced up, sighed, and said, “I hate to tell you this, Savannah, but as pretty as you are, you’re not the least bit photogenic.”
    Okay, Savannah thought, so much for having to break the awful news to Leah.
    “I had a difficult time at the shoot, it’s true,” she said. “I can see that for myself.” She pointed to the slides. “No wonder Matt was upset with me for sending you.” Savannah felt the ruff on her back bristling. “If you’ll recall, when you suggested I go undercover as a model, I expressed my doubt that I could pull it off.”
    “And I should have listened to you.”
    She pushed back away from the table and stood, giving Savannah a full view of her teal pantsuit that was trimmed in bright yellow piping. Her high heels matched—eye-stabbing bright blue with yellow heels.
    For one satisfying moment Savannah allowed a couple of catty thoughts to float through her head: How many thrifts shops do you have to case to find an outfit like that? Just how far did you have to chase that bag lady to get that garb off of her? Wanna talk photogenic? Let’s take some shots and see if you look like a giant peacock.
    Then she remembered that, at least for the moment, Leah Freed was her employer, and she had bills to pay.
    Leah walked over to a more comfortable chair in the opposite corner and sat down. Savannah waited for an invitation to sit in the chair next to hers, but Leah didn't bother.
    Deciding not to be kept standing just because Leah Freed had apparently been raised among wolves, Savannah helped herself to the seat.
    “Speaking of Matt Slater,” Savannah said, “do tell me what you know about him and his relationships with his models.”
    A fleeting look crossed Leah’s face, but it was long enough for Savannah to note it... and interpret it. Leah was jealous. Whether she was jealous because she had been one of Matt’s part-time hobbies, too, or because she wanted to be, Savannah couldn’t tell.
    “Matt has a lot of relationships,” Leah said coolly. “Some of them have been with models.”
    “Is he doing the grizzly bear hump with Desiree at the moment?”
    “Probably.”
    Savannah couldn’t help noticing that Leah’s tone and mood seemed to be plummeting like a thermometer in a blizzard. She had gone from chilly to frosty in two questions. Might as well try for solid ice.
    “And how about the other girls?”
    Leah crossed her arms over her the front of her double-breasted suit. “I don’t think he’d gotten very far with Kameeka or Tesla.”
    “I see.”
    Savannah flashed back on Kevin Connor’s glowing account of his happy marriage and wondered...
    “Did Cait’s husband know?”
    “About Cait and Matt? I suppose he did. He knew about most of the others.”
    “The others?” Savannah could see her sterling image of the star model tarnishing right in front of her eyes.
    “Lots of others,” Leah said with the nasty smile of a gossip who thoroughly enjoyed dishing the dirt. “Caitlin never did anything halfway. She binged on everything... not just food.”
    “And did Kevin seem to mind—the others, that is?”
    “I’m sure he did. Who wouldn’t mind? But he was crazy in love with Cait. He overlooked a lot of things where she was concerned. We all did.”
    Savannah searched Leah’s face for signs of hate, anger, any motive for murder. But the woman was an agent; she played poker for a living, and she was good.
    “Why?” Savannah asked. “Why did y’all put up with her if she was all that bad?”
    Leah’s expression