Cadaver at the Con

by Winnie Reed

  Cadaver at the Con

  Cape Hope Mysteries

  Winne Reed

  Contents

  Cadaver at the Con

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Afterword

  Cadaver at the Con

  Cape Hope Mysteries Book Three

  Emma’s boss has sent her to a conference. All expenses paid. How great is that? It was great until her mother’s best friends show up as attendees to make sure she doesn’t get herself into any trouble. What? It’s not like that’s their only mission. The conference is at a casino and they love their slots. Not to mention they love the keynote speaker. It was great until a mysterious shady man shows up, harassing the keynote speaker and another author. That shouldn’t really involve Emma. And it doesn’t. Until a trip to the swimming pool turns up a dead body.

  Of course, wouldn’t you know it, the detective in charge is Detective McHottie. And he’s got his eye on a suspect. Luckily, this time, it’s not Emma. Unfortunately, it’s a new author that Emma’s become quite a fan of. Not to mention, Emma’s convinced this debuting author did not kill the dead guy in the pool.

  Emma’s got her hands full, what with her mom’s best friends always on her heels, a killer on the loose, and of course, trying to keep out of Detective McHottie’s way. And thoroughly failing.

  Chapter One

  “You are the only woman in the entire world who’d complain about having two hot guys vying for her attention.”

  I wasn’t looking at the phone, where my best friend’s face was displayed even though she was all the way on the other side of the world, but I heard an eyeroll in the tone of her voice.

  “Nobody’s vying for my attention,” I sighed. “Except for Lola, but she’s just freaking out because she can tell I’m packing to go someplace.” Just then, my beloved Maltese was doing everything but backflips to get me to look her way. I reached down and gave her a quick pet before folding my bathing suit. Maybe I’d get to use it during the conference.

  The odds weren’t in my favor, but I could dream.

  “They’re both interested in you, which is practically the same thing. And rather than sitting back and sipping a glass of wine and reveling in your ridiculous luck, you’re complaining and worrying and making me wish I was there so I could strangle you.”

  It wasn’t like Raina to take that sort of tone, which told me things with the sexy hunk she’d met on her latest work trip weren’t going well. Note to self: don’t ask about Perfect Paolo.

  I lifted the phone from its nest on my mess of a bed, t-shirts and dresses and skirts galore. Raina was six hours ahead of me, meaning it was pretty late there.

  For me. Not for her. Raina wasn’t part of the jammies-and-ice-cream-at-nine club, the way I was. Especially not while in Rome, where people ate dinner at, like, ten o’clock and then enjoyed a gelato while walking cobblestone streets and swimming in fountains.

  Clearly, I had never been to Italy.

  She looked like a million bucks, as always, her long hair pulled into a sleek topknot, a black shift dress skimming her curves. But she looked unhappy, which made me unhappy.

  “What is it?” I asked, sitting on the bed. Lola jumped up next to me, jealous as always that I was talking to anybody but her.

  Raina’s sad little frown made me regret fretting over which of the two men marginally in my life was the one I should pay attention to. Joe, the hot detective who happened to have strong, comforting arms. Deke, the millionaire photographer who drove me crazy but sure knew how to kiss.

  When I stepped outside myself for a minute and looked at it from her perspective, I wanted to strangle myself.

  She shrugged, looking away from the screen. “Paolo ghosted me. And yes, I know we were only hanging out for a week, but still.”

  The thing was, Raina gave off the image of a girl on top of the world. Nothing could touch her. When she entered a room, people stopped talking. Moving. Maybe even breathing.

  That was who she was on the outside. Inside? She was soft. Gentle. Easily hurt. People might’ve assumed she was too cool for school, but people would’ve been wrong.

  This was the second such disappointment she’d faced in the last few weeks. Nate Patterson, whose bed and breakfast was on the verge of opening in mere days, was too busy to pursue a relationship. Raina had practically drooled over him as a kid and still had a thing for him, but it just wasn’t the right time. And now, this.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” I sighed. “You’re the total package. He’s an idiot and I hate him and now he’s Pitiful Paolo. That’s his name.”

  She tried not to giggle, but she failed. “That works.”

  “And he’s pathetic, too, because he’s too stupid to see that he needs to lock you down, stat. You’re the sort of girl who comes along once in a lifetime.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

  “Hey. I’d straight-up marry you if we both felt so inclined. You know that.”

  “I wish I were home,” she admitted with a frown.

  “You’ll be back by Sunday, right? My conference ends on Monday. Maybe we can get together next week and you can give me all the presents you bought me.” I crossed the fingers of my free hand for her to see.

  She sounded a lot more like herself when she burst out laughing. “Gee, how’d you know?”

  “You bought me something?” I gasped, astonished.

  “Maybe,” she winked. “Yeah, let’s get together. Now I have something to look forward to. Meanwhile, you get to hang out with a bunch of famous writers this weekend. You’ll be too cool for me by the time I get back home.”

  “Oh, right.” I snickered, rolling my eyes. “Too cool. That totally sounds like me.”

  “Hey, you get to rub elbows with lots of popular writers. Who knows who you’ll get to meet and become best friends with and completely forget me over?” She got a little wistful toward the end, poor thing.

  “I highly doubt that,” I sighed. “Besides, I’m not there to make friends. I’m there to attend the food writing sessions.”

  “You already know how to write, God knows.”

  “That sounded like a compliment, so I’ll take it as one.”

  “You know it was,” she chided, wagging a finger at me. “And listen. Don’t discount getting out there and meeting people. It’s called networking.”

  “Oh, is that what it’s called? I thought networking had something to do with computers.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha.”

  “You know I’m no good at that sort of thing. You’re much better at it than I am.” I winked. “Maybe I should be the one in Rome, while you go to this conference for me.”

  “You’re good at it!”

  “I am not. I get all flustered and end up saying the wrong things. I sound like an idiot.”

  “Networking is nothing more than making friends with people. Believe me,” she added when I blew a frustrated sigh through pursed lips. “People can smell it a mile away when somebody’s approaching them just because they want something from them. Nobody wants to have anything to
do with somebody like that—in business, or anywhere else.”

  “See, that’s the sort of networking that sets my teeth on edge. It’s slimy and gross.”

  “It doesn’t have to be! All you have to do is be friendly. That’s what people respond to. And I know you can do that. You’re better at it than anybody I know. You always find a way to connect with people. Maybe it comes from working in the café since you were old enough to stir batter.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “That’s true. If I could learn how to manage the kooks who come into Mom’s café such a young age, I guess I can handle anybody.”

  “That’s all it is. Just get to know people. Ask them questions. We both know you’re good at that, too,” she said. “Maybe you owe a lot more to unpaid child labor than you originally thought. Working in a town where everybody knows everybody else’s business taught you all sorts of things.”

  “If you were implying that I’m nosy, you’re lucky you’re on the other side of the world.”

  “Nah. Just good at teasing things out of people that they wouldn’t ordinarily share. You’ll crush it this weekend.” Then, she frowned. “Geez, is it that late already? I have to go. I have dinner plans.” I was right about that, at least. People really did eat super late over there.

  “Enjoy. Eat some pasta for me.”

  She giggled, and it was good to hear. “Please. Like I have a choice. Ciao, bella.”

  “How cosmopolitan,” I swooned before ending the call. Funny, how empty the room could seem even though she hadn’t actually been in the room with me.

  I left the phone on the bed, sighing as I looked down at my dog. “Let’s hope things turn around for Auntie Raina soon,” I murmured, crossing my fingers.

  I then reminded myself that I was talking to a dog who had no fingers to cross and who had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. As far as she was concerned, I was just moving my mouth and making noises.

  Unless I said the word treat, in which case she knew exactly what I meant.

  Which reminded me, I had to pack those in her little travel backpack. Not that she wore a backpack, because that would be ridiculous unless they made them in her size which would be adorable. “Now, you’d better be a good girl this weekend. Aunt Darcy is being very nice, agreeing to watch over you.”

  Lola cocked her head to the side, which always completely undid me. Like, did she know how painfully cute she was?

  “Why can’t you stay with Grandmom? Good question. Because she never stops shoving doggy treats down your throat—or regular people treats, which is even worse—and I’m afraid you’re going to blow up like a balloon. Pretty soon, your little belly will be touching the floor. And it’s my job to keep you healthy, right?”

  She lay down on the bed, her chin on her paws, while dark puppy eyes stared up at me.

  I shrugged. “Well, you don’t have to like it. I’m the mommy, and I make the rules—but it’s only for your own good. You’ll understand one day.” I shook my head at myself. “No, she won’t, Emma. Because she is a dog.”

  Though sometimes I would’ve sworn on a stack of Bibles that she wasn’t.

  A glance at the clock told me I had to get moving. The conference was only right up the road in Paradise City, no more than a half-hour drive, but I wanted to have time to settle into my room and register with the rest of the early birds. Maybe I would have time to follow Raina’s advice and introduce myself to a few people.

  The next morning would kick off three days of nonstop sessions, speeches, and opportunities to meet authors from all genres of both fiction and nonfiction writing. “I’d better remember my tote bag,” I said, patting Lola on the head as I crossed the room and fished in my closet for the bag in question.

  After all, there was supposed to be a ton of swag available. Free books, pens, mugs. I was never one to give up free swag. Especially books.

  And if I didn’t read them, my sister certainly would. She was always on the lookout for new authors whose work she could sell in her store.

  “Even though she’s doing this for free, there’s no such thing as free pet sitting,” I informed my dog, who watched me with her usual curious expression. “But I think paying in books I didn’t actually pay for is probably the easiest I would get off. Do you think?”

  No, she didn’t think. Because she was just a dog.

  Chapter Two

  “Careful using the t-word,” I murmured, one eye on Lola. She was already settled into her bed, cozy behind the counter where my sister spent much of her days.

  “T-word?” Darcy asked, frowning. “What the heck is that?”

  “T-r-e-a-t-s,” I hissed, still keeping the dog in my periphery.

  “Why can’t you say it out loud?” she wondered, glancing down at the dog. “What, does she go ballistic?”

  “A little. She might be small, but she’s dangerous. Especially when she’s well-rested. I’m warning you.”

  “Gee. A twelve-pound dog, going ballistic over a word. I wouldn’t want to run the risk of that happening.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re way too into this dog. Unless you’re gonna tell me she’ll hold a gun to my head and demand one, I find it difficult to take this seriously.”

  “Oh? Okay.” I looked from her to the pooch in question, who at the moment was resting in a cute little furry ball with her eyes closed. The very picture of canine contentment.

  Not for long. I cleared my throat before saying the word in question in little more than a whisper. “Treat.”

  Just like that, Lola was airborne. She started spinning in circles, panting, then jumping up and down and letting out little yips.

  I looked at my sister.

  My sister looked at me. “Gotcha.”

  “And once you get her all excited like that, she won’t stop until she gets one.” Sure enough, Lola was still spinning. I was afraid she’d get dizzy and run face-first into one of the shelves behind the counter. “Better give her one and get it over with.”

  “This is your fault,” Darcy chided, fishing a small bone out of the bag. “You made her this way.”

  “I didn’t. I swear.” We watched as Lola tossed the treat around, pouncing on it before tossing it again. “She likes to play with her treats before she eats them. She’s showing them who’s boss. Either that, or she thinks this is entertaining for us.”

  “You are too strange.” I had the feeling Darcy was talking to me and not to the dog. “Okay, I’ve learned my lesson. Anything else I need to know?”

  “Yeah. Make sure Mom doesn’t sneak muffins over for her. She pooped blueberry for two days the last time she was next door. I thought she was possessed or at least extremely sick until Mom fessed up.”

  Darcy snorted. “Mom? Overdo things? Never.”

  “Not our mother.”

  “Now, now.” A familiar voice called out from behind me. Darcy hadn’t mentioned our Aunt Nell was there in the store. “I don’t like hearing you tease your mom, especially when she’s not here to defend herself.”

  I turned to find her shaking her finger at me. As usual, she was dressed like a southern belle who’d accidentally made a wrong turn and ended up in New Jersey. Gauzy white blouse, floaty pink skirt. Still, I had to give her points for finding the style she liked and sticking with it.

  Her red bob swung around her face as she shook her head. “You girls tease her too much.”

  “Come on, Auntie Nell,” Darcy grinned. “You can’t pretend she doesn’t go overboard sometimes. She fed Lola blueberry muffins until she pooped blue for two days.”

  “And it’s not like the dog can steal them herself.” I glanced down at Lola. “Though I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  “Just the same. She has a good heart.”

  “Nobody’s arguing that.” I took a look at the book she was holding and had to wonder why she perused the bookstore when she had an entire library at her disposal. “What’s that?”

  “The newest Deidre Price novel,” she grinned.
“I’ve been waiting to get my hands on this.”

  “The Darkest Night,” Darcy murmured, nodding. “It’s been flying off the shelves.”

  “I wanted a copy of my own,” Nell explained. “She’s one of the only authors whose work I keep on my shelves at home.”

  “Isn’t she gonna be at the conference you’re going to?” Darcy asked me.

  “Mm-hmm. She’s the keynote speaker. And I think she’s having a big signing tonight, before the actual event starts tomorrow.” I elbowed Nell playfully. “What do you say? I could take that with me and have her sign it for you.”

  I couldn’t believe it when Nell shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve been looking forward to digging into it.”

  Darcy shrugged when I caught her eye as she rang up the purchase. “Enjoy it!”

  “I will, if her other books are any indication. I just can’t imagine how an author has the time to release such great work, and so prolifically. Maybe you can ask her that at the conference,” Nell suggested as she slid the book into her shoulder bag.

  I giggled. “Sure. Like she won’t be mobbed all weekend long.”

  Nell fixed me with a pointed stare. “Now. I want you to take no chances this weekend. Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

  This again? It was all I could do not to roll my eyes and slump over the counter. “Come on. Not you, too.”

  “Yes. Me, too.” Nell looked stern, as only somebody who’d known me my entire life could look. “Don’t pretend you don’t have a talent for getting yourself into sticky situations.”