The receptionist was a glitzy dyed blonde sporting so much makeup that Maggie knew she had to go through a car wash to get it off. Maggie handed over her press badge and identified herself. “I’d like a few minutes of Miss Newsom’s time before we go to press. I don’t like printing things until all parties have a chance to respond so they can be quoted as they want to be quoted.”

The receptionist looked dubious. “Miss Newsom is tied up at the moment. What exactly do you want a quote on?”

Maggie grinned. “This is just a guess on my part, but I don’t think she wants anyone to know. You can tell her this. It concerns Baron Bell, and I have exactly ten minutes before I have to get back to the paper to make my deadline. So, if you’ll untie your boss, I’d appreciate it.”

Maggie crossed her fingers that Lizzie was right when she’d said Baron Bell would be on the phone with Newsom within minutes of her leaving his office. She hoped Lizzie was right. She tried to hear what the brittle blonde was saying into the intercom, but all she could hear were soft murmurs.

“Miss Newsom said she can give you five minutes. She’s scheduled for a deposition in a few minutes, and the clients are already here.”

“Five minutes will be enough. All I want is a quote.”

“Down the hall to the right, second door,” the blonde said tightly.

Maggie trotted down the hall to Adel Newsom’s office, opened the door, and entered a lavishly appointed suite of rooms. She looked around to see where the secretary was. Obviously, the dyed blonde, a walking advertisement for Clinique, had relayed Maggie’s words verbatim, and Newsom had sent her secretary on an errand.

Adel Newsom was probably in her early fifties but looked sixty. Some sloppy surgeon had sliced and diced, chopped and grated, buffed and puffed her until she looked like a really bad version of Joan Rivers.

Adel Newsom had strawberry blond hair that had been dyed and fried. Maggie almost laughed out loud when she thought of the Chinese restaurant where she always ordered something called the Birdnest, which was a crackly fried noodle affair that you could see through. Newsom’s hair looked just like the Birdnest. Her nose was small and pointy. Her lips looked unnatural and barely covered the woman’s blinding white capped teeth. She was wearing a bright red Chanel suit. Botoxed out the kazoo. She didn’t bother to get up or even offer to shake hands. Her voice was husky and sounded coarse. Too many cigarettes and too much whiskey, Maggie decided. She looked wary, which told Maggie that Baron Bell had probably called her the minute Lizzie left his office.