She put the folder back, locked the cabinet, then sat down at the desk to fiddle with the keys. Ah, the center drawer opened on the third try. Her lips flattened into a thin line. “Nothing here.”
Office supplies. Stationary with the salon’s logo on it. Rubber stamps. Correction tape to cover up mistakes. Now there was an interesting parallel. Was Tiffany a mistake someone wanted to cover up?
“What the hell are you doing in my office?”
Max shrieked, jumped, and whacked her knee on the underside of the drawer.
She had a quasi-heart attack when she recognized Pippa Louise Lamont in the doorway.
Chapter Ten
Yeah, Cameron, what am I doing in her office?
Silence in her head. Cameron had deserted her. Dirty, rotten ...
She’d handle it on her own. Been there, done that ... had the T-shirt to prove it.
Max cleared her throat, stood, smoothed her hands down her slacks, then launched a verbal barrage at Pippa Lamont. “Sorry, I thought it was Miles’s office. Ariel said the credit card slips were in the top desk drawer here. You see, the machine freaked out yesterday, and we had to use the hand slips, and of course, we ran out, so when they all left, I came in here to get them so everything would be ready when they get back this afternoon ... uh, in case the machine goes on the fritz again ...” Max stopped long enough to take a breath, “... and I’m Max Starr, by the way, the new receptionist. Everyone’s at Tiffany’s funeral.” She gave Pippa the once-over as if to ask why she wasn’t there and took the chance for another quick breath. “And you must be Pippa Lamont. Here’s your picture, and it looks just like you. I’m not sure when everyone will be back, but I’m minding the store, and do you know where the extra credit card slips are?”
Ah, finally, a deep breath. Oxygen was like a drug.
Pippa Louise Lamont stared as if she’d just been run down by a herd of stampeding elephants. And she did not seem like the type who was used to being trampled.
Damn, that was the best blonde moment Max had ever had. She considered bleaching her dark hair, except that eventually the roots would grow out.
And now you gotta keep the patter up, sweetheart.
Ah, Cameron. He hadn’t blown off into the nether regions after all.
Max smiled, held out her hand. “Nice to meetcha.”
Pippa jerked, then automatically shook Max’s hand. Her green eyes started to lose the squirrel-in-the-road look, and she shifted the leather briefcase from her left hand to her right. “What did you say your name was?”
“Max Starr.”
Her gaze narrowed. “My husband didn’t mention you.”
“He probably hadn’t gotten around to it. Yesterday was my first day. Here, do you want your seat?” Max moved out from behind the desk.
Pippa was dressed in a navy blue polka dot sheath fastened with a wide, white belt. A navy lace veil framed the hat she wore over her titian hair and hung to the level of her dark red lips. She looked like a femme fatale from one of those forties’ noire films.
Pippa exhaled, then set her briefcase on the edge of the desk. Tension eased from her shoulders as she folded her hands over the case’s handle. “The credit slips are under the register in a box.”
Max gasped, threw her hands in the air, then smiled. “No way. We looked everywhere out there. I might have missed them, but not Ariel. But then she was busy with a customer and trying to direct me ...”
“They’re under the register,” Pippa said through gritted teeth. Beneath the veil, two red spots appeared on her cheeks.
“Well, thanks.” Max edged toward the door. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate. I’m good with filing and all that.”
The woman waved an imperious hand. “No.”
“Okay, well ...” Almost gone, home free, yet Max couldn’t resist one more inane parting comment. “I can’t type worth a hill of beans, but I’m a whiz at ...”
“I said I’m fine.” Pippa’s teeth ground together that time.
It was a good thing Pippa had cut her off, because Max wasn’t sure she could have found one more thing she was a whiz at. Gosh, playing a gabby ditz was right up her alley. She’d gotten herself out of that jam in ten seconds flat. And without one lie.
“Give me the keys.” Pippa held out her hand, long pale fingers, the nails painted a blood red to match her lips. “They aren’t to be left out for just anyone to use.”
“Sure thing.”
Hmm. Was that a jab meant for the husband, the receptionist, or the blonde stylist? And what the hell was so important in Pippa’s office anyway? Max had found nothing that warranted two locks, let alone a deadbolt.
She smiled, handed the ring over, then stuck a hand in her pocket where her fingers closed over the piece of paper on which she’d written the addresses.
She backed out the door, then turned and ran smack dab into a human brick wall.