The Azalea Assault by Alyse Carlson Read Free Book Online

night before came to mind, but Cam swallowed it back. She didn’t plan to lie when questioned, but it was really nobody’s business except the police’s. She may have liked to
hear
gossip, but she wasn’t in the practice of spreading it—that would have been counter to her instinct for damage control.
    By ten o’clock the ambulance and medical examiner had carried off the body. All of the Roanoke Garden Society officers, minus Samantha, had gathered. Madeline Leclerc and Cam—the key hired staff—were also present. Giselle brought in coffee and leftover muffins and other treats from the previous day’s catering.
    “We can’t lose this photo shoot. It’s generated thousands in charitable donations, and is sure to drive up membership,” Madeline said. She looked strained.
    Cam owed her job with the Roanoke Garden Society to Madeline Leclerc. The RGS had hired Madeline as coordinator, charged with increasing publicity, membership, and revenue, which Madeline swore she could do, but only with a public relations team. “Team” was a bit of an exaggeration, as it consisted of only Cam, but the job combined Cam’s three loves: gardening, her hometown, and PR.
    “Lose? Madeline, in case you weren’t paying attention, there was a murder—a world-famous photographer was
murdered
,” Joseph Sadler-Neff said, looking anxious and tired. Sweat glistened from under his comb-over.
    “The magazine staff is already here, and the featurevisibility will help us with all our goals!” Madeline’s voice was shrill, invoking panic.
    It was unnerving to have her unshakable boss so flustered. Cam wanted to calm everyone, but she needed them to vent first so she’d know what she was dealing with.
Then
she could calm them more effectively, or so she hoped.
    “But with no photographer—”
    “There are other photographers,” Madeline insisted.
    “Not so talented. That was how Cammi convinced the magazine to come, wasn’t it, Cammi?” Mr. Patrick said.
    Plans to stall aside, she couldn’t ignore the question.
    “Yes, sir. His fame. I’m sure there is other talent, but his fame brought them here.”
    “Where’s Samantha?” Madeline asked, seeking the board president for leadership.
    Everyone looked around, as if Samantha were hiding in the room. Cam could have sworn Neil Patrick looked under the table.
    “I couldn’t reach her,” Cam said. “I left messages at her home and on her cell.”
    “It was a distressing party,” Joseph conceded, his concern apparent. He seemed near tears, as if overcome with empathy, either for the deceased or, more likely, for the upset hostess. At that moment, it occurred to Cam that Joseph had a crush on Samantha, but she supposed that made sense. Samantha was beautiful, gracious, and single. And as far as Cam knew, Joseph was alone. His emotional display was unusual; normally, he was just terribly proper.
    “Maybe she had a breakfast date,” Mr. Patrick offered hopefully.
    Cam smiled at Mr. Patrick, then looked at Joseph. The man waxed poetic when telling an official story, but rarely said a word otherwise. Cam was glad someone was defending Samantha, though she couldn’t help wondering why Samantha needed defending. She stifled the thought that maybe Joseph knew why.
    T he police had been interviewing the magazine and household staff while the RGS officers held their half-hour meeting. Now, as the meeting broke up, they began their interviews with the Garden Society staff and officers. As Cam left the library, she ran into Nick and Petunia.
    “Shoot! I forgot to call you! Well, I guess everyone will still need to eat, and they’ll want to talk to you.”
    “Yeah, what is this?” Petunia pointed at the nervous clusters of people. She then impulsively hugged Cam, picking up the ambient anxiety. Petunia often misinterpreted the cause, but she was good at detecting mood.
    When they separated, Cam got her first good look at her brother-in-law. “Geez, Nick. You look like hell