Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3

by Nikki Haverstock

  Mary jumped in. “We’ll stay at the hotel and get Indian food from that place that Jack told us about this morning.” Then she looked at me and cleared her throat. “I mean, that’s my vote, but only if Di agrees.”

  I smiled back at her. “That sounds great. What does the rest of the day look like for you guys?”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Meetings. A million meetings.”

  Orion laughed. “It’s not so bad. After today, things lighten up a bit. The first day is always a crunch, as everyone wants to get all the important stuff out of the way.”

  I gathered up our trash. “Yeah, it sure seemed that everyone that raced past our table was off to somewhere important.”

  Liam got up from his seat and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t we give it until the end of the day, and if the table still doesn’t have much activity, then we can consider mixing it up?”

  ***

  I flopped onto the couch in our suite while Moo chomped on his dinner in the kitchenette. It had been a long day. “What do you want to order from the Indian place?”

  Mary peeked at me over a lowered newspaper that Jack had given her as she exited the car this evening. “Huh? Oh, food. Can you get a little of everything?” She disappeared behind the newspaper.

  I searched through the menu to find something that would work and copied our order onto a sheet of paper. Liam, Orion, and Elizabeth were in their rooms, getting ready for the game tonight.

  I checked my phone. Several emails and messages had come through. Minx and Tiger sent a few texts, as they were in the process of moving to the Westmound Center as on-site athletes. Minx wanted to know what the laundry facilities were like, so I typed up a reply explaining what was there and that she would definitely want to bring her own laundry basket.

  Tiger, on the other hand, wanted to know what the local singles scene was in town. I chuckled and suggested that he contact some of the single firearms instructors at the center. I never left the center in the evenings. I had everything I needed at the center already.

  Liam came into the room. He had changed clothing for the evening, adding a few layers. He came over and sat next to me. “Are you sure that you want to stay here?” Moo came over to Liam.

  “Yes, I’m really excited to stay in after a long day. Here’s our order.” I handed him the paper, our fingers brushing. A warmth flowed over me as I looked at him, and we smiled.

  “We’re good,” Mary said as she folded up the newspaper and pulled out a laptop from her bag and fired it up. “I have some work to do.”

  Mary had told me on the plane ride over that she didn’t have any homework this trip since the university semester had just started. What was she up to? She started typing and clicking away at her computer, dismissing me completely.

  I turned back to Liam, who was already watching me. Moo shoved his snout into my eye as I stared at Liam, startling me and making Liam laugh.

  “Was the afternoon at the center table better?” Liam pulled on Moo’s collar to get him out of my face and scratched behind his ears.

  I ran a finger under my eye, hoping to remove any smeared makeup. “Not really. The only people that talked to us were people that were looking for someone in the Westmound booth.”

  Liam’s mouth formed a grim line. “That’s not good. Connie and Mom are always saying that there is never enough time at the OIT Show to see everything. Want me to see if there is anything else that you and Mary can do?”

  “That would be great. We can sit at the table all week, but I’m not sure that we are doing much to contribute.”

  A knock on the door brought Liam to his feet to open it. John stepped into the room. A few seconds later, Elizabeth exited her bedroom. John’s face lit up when he saw her. His delight in seeing her was far beyond a professional interest only.

  Orion exited the bedroom, and they gathered their stuff to head out.

  Liam checked over the dinner order I had given him. “I’ll give this to Jack, and he’ll bring the food back here. I imagine it will take him at least an hour. Do you want him to bring the food to the room?”

  “Nah. He doesn’t need to come all the way up here. We’ll go hang out in the lobby with Moo.”

  “If you need anything, give me a call.”

  After the door shut behind them, I tried to get Mary’s attention. “Why do you think we’re sharing a car with John?”

  She dragged her eyes off the computer screen to stare at me. “Huh?”

  “Why are Beckmans and Westmound sharing a car this week? Beckmans has like a million stores, and we flew here in a private jet. I’m sure both companies could afford their own car. So why are we sharing one car?”

  Mary waved a hand at me. “If you want to be Veronica Mars, then you need to focus on the real mystery.”

  I patted the couch next to me, and Moo hopped up and set to cleaning a paw. “Which is?”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “You know that I want to investigate the guy we found last night.”

  I laughed. She was right. I knew we were going to investigate eventually, but I could tease Mary a bit more. “Oh, him. I totally forgot about him. I’m not sure if I even want to investigate.”

  Mary’s face fell. “Oh…”

  “No, I’m kidding, Mary. Nothing would make me happier than to investigate with you.”

  She squinted at me. “You sure?”

  I kicked my feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch and slid down with my hands behind my head. “Totally, but have you given any thought to how we’ll solve the murder? If it even is a murder.”

  Mary grabbed the newspaper off the table and shook it at me. “It was a murder. The newspaper said that there is an ongoing investigation. And I have a plan. Logic.”

  “Logic?”

  “Yes, logic. If we learn everything there is to know about him, then we can figure out who would want to kill him. Once we eliminate everyone with an alibi, then we have the killer. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

  “So once you eliminate the impossible, then whatever is left, no matter how improbable, gives us the killer?” I quipped.

  “Yeah, that’s great. Did you make that up just now?”

  “No.” I laughed. “I paraphrased Conan Doyle, the author of Sherlock Holmes.”

  “That’s perfect. We’ll be Sherlock Holmes and his trusty sidekick, Watson.” She gestured at me when she said Watson.

  “If I’m the sidekick, then you better pull together the plan, Sherlock.”

  Mary leaned back in her chair and tapped a pen to her lip with one hand while flipping through her notebook with the other. “Here’s what I got from the newspaper. His name was Kenny something or other, but he went by Cash. He made his money from a check-cashing business his dad left him. He sold it a few years ago and started a hunting show and business called Hunting with Cash.”

  “Catchy name.” Moo pawed at me, and I reached over to give him a scratch on his back.

  “Yeah, he had all kinds of catchy mottos that he put on shirts and decals. The last season of his show just finished a few weeks ago, and they said it was really taking off. And the police are treating his death as a homicide. He is survived by his wife Hannah something or other. That’s all I got.” She scratched a few notes onto her notepad.

  “Somethingorother—what a beautiful last name. Is it Dutch?” Mary rolled her eyes, and I continued. “You’re the archery expert; tell me about hunting shows. How do they work? How do you get a show?” Moo whined, pawed my leg, and stared at me again.

  Mary shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know much. My parents never watched any of those shows, said they were thirty minutes of commercials. I know only the absolute basics. There are hunting channels, and hunting shows are sponsored. Hey, does Moo need to go outside?”

  Moo leaped from the couch and pranced around the room. I gasped. “You’re right. I totally forgot.” I grabbed my jacket, my wallet, and his leash. “Wanna hang in the lobby afterward while we wait for the food
to arrive?” I snapped the leash onto Moo’s collar as he waited at the door, dancing back and forth on his feet then staring at me, waiting for me to open the door.

  Mary gathered up her jacket and stuffed everything into her messenger bag and threw it over her head. “Just in case we find any clues, Watson.”

  Stepping into the hallway, I told Moo to heel and held him close to my side. Liam and I were working hard to train Moo. He was a huge dog but still young. He needed to learn manners.

  This morning, we had been in a rush, but stepping into the glass elevator, I looked around. “Look at all the police tape.”

  Not only was the restaurant we had found Cash in taped off, but the corner on each floor above it had police tape. Mary pushed her face against the glass. “They must not know what floor he fell from yet. They have every floor closed off right above where we found him.”

  “Did you take pictures last night?”

  The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. “Yes, I did.” She gasped and turned to me. “What if the murderer returned to the scene of the crime?”

  We stepped onto the ground floor and headed toward the dog area past the bar. “I thought that was just arsonists.”

  Mary shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a record of some of the people that were at the hotel when it happened. Plus maybe there’s something we missed in all the excitement. I removed the blurry ones. I didn’t get any of Cash.”

  “Is that a good thing or bad thing?”

  “Honestly? A good thing. Maybe there was something for us to learn, but I don’t feel comfortable having pictures of a dead person.”

  I nodded my agreement. “Investigating a murder is one thing, but keeping pictures of the body is… ghoulish. We’ll leave forensics to the cops. We have inside archery knowledge on our side.”

  As we approached the bar, the voices inside drew our attention. The bar was hopping; people were clustered around tall tables, grabbing drinks and laughing loudly. Right outside were stuffed chairs with little tables next to them.

  Mary flopped into a chair and dropped her bag at her side. “Do you mind if I wait here? I’ll watch the lobby and maybe flag down someone that can answer some questions about hunting shows.”

  Moo and I walked to the door and pushed it out in the cold winter air. The dog area had a gate, and once inside, I let Moo off his leash since he was used to doing his business “free range.” I checked my phone and had a message from Liam saying the food should be here soon and wishing us a nice evening.

  Once Moo was finished and I had responsibly cleaned up, I snapped the leash back onto his collar. Fumbling with the key card entrance, I stepped back into the warmth, blowing warm air onto my hands. I really needed to get mittens.

  Mary was talking with a brunette gal, and as I approached, her Southern accent became clear. The back of her shirt said OIT STAFF. Mary caught my eye and waved me to hurry up. “Di, get over here. I want you to meet Sarah.”

  We exchanged handshakes, and I motioned to the chairs. “Wanna sit with us?”

  She hesitated and checked her watch. “I really should be getting up to the room…” She didn’t make any motion to leave.

  “It’ll be just a minute. In fact, let me get you a drink.” I pulled out my wallet, and she shook her head.

  “No drink, but I can sit for a minute. Just a minute, though. If I stay longer, kick me out. I’ve so much work to do.”

  We sat, and I scooted my chair around a bit to get a better view of Sarah opposite me.

  Mary pulled her bag into her lap and rummaged around. “Work to do? Aren’t you done for the day?”

  Sarah sighed. “No, I am so behind. We brought in some writers to do up the article on the show, like what you did. They are super-talented people that write for the website, but they are not used to the fast turnaround that we need for this event. Say, are you guys busy?”

  “We are here to help with Westmound, but what’s up?”

  “We really need some content. I’ll pay you to write a couple of articles on new Westmound products. Ask your boss. It’s a win-win.”

  “We’ll mention it.” Mary exchanged a look with me, and I nodded back. “We had a question about hunting shows.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Ugh, them. Are they bothering you?”

  Mary’s eyebrows rose. “No, why?”

  “In general, the hunting shows get a media pass and use the OIT Show to try and get sponsors, which isn’t technically allowed. It is hard to police, because sponsors like to bring the hunting personalities to the show so pro-shop buyers can meet them and get influenced by their favorite TV hunter into buying the sponsors’ products. It is a bit of a Catch-22; they’re not supposed to solicit sponsors at the OIT Show, only support their existing sponsors, but the best place to get sponsors is at the OIT Show. We double-check that everyone buying a media badge does have a website, TV show, or something then send out information to all the attendants telling them not to try to sell products unless they have a booth.”

  What a strange industry. I leaned in to ask a question. “Why do they need sponsors? Don’t the networks give them a budget when they pick up the show? Is it just for additional money?”

  Sarah turned to face me and shook her head. “Hunting networks are totally different than the rest of the TV industry. They sell their timeslots to hunting shows. Hunting shows pay for the timeslot using money from their sponsors or, if they don’t have enough sponsors, they pay for it themselves.”

  “So anyone can have a show?”

  Sarah laughed. “Maybe. I’m not sure on all the details. They pitch the show to the network, and if the network likes the show, then they might give them a couple of timeslots and prices. Each network is a bit different. I have no idea what they are looking for. We have a couple of networks here; they have booths on the south side of the secondary pavilion.” She raised her eyebrows at me then turned to look at Mary. “I could set things up for you to get some interviews. It sure would be a great article to talk about how hunting shows are set up.”

  Mary laughed. “Oh, I like that idea. We’ll see what we can do.”

  Sarah stood up. “I really wish I could stay longer and chat, but I better go. Get ahold of me anytime if you can do the article.”

  We waved good-bye. Mary pulled out her notebook and scratched a few notes. “Timeslots, sponsors, networks, rivals.”

  “What does that mean?” I leaned over to scratch Moo’s shoulder; he flopped onto his back, exposing his pink tummy.

  “Motives, suspects, things to investigate.” She gave a wave of her hand. “I need to see what network his show was on and what timeslot. What if he bumped another show? What if he stole someone’s sponsor?”

  “You’re really excited about this.”

  “I am. There is so much to learn and so many options. It’s different than what we’ve done before.”

  A man’s voice from the bar behind us called out. “Hey, Princess Di. Hey, Bloody Mary.”

  With a groan at the nickname I hated, I turned around to see Loggin walking over to us. He towered over head and had the muscle to make him an impressive sight. I couldn’t help but smile at his boy-next-door good looks. “Hey, Loggin.”

  He had three drinks held between his two hands. “The greeting is from Minx.” He put the three glasses down on a tiny table. “Come here; this is from me.”

  He gave us each a hug, lifting me off my feet easily. When he hugged Mary, who was shorter than me, she looked like a doll flopping in his arms, and he spun her around once.

  “I brought you both a drink.” He grabbed one of the pint glasses and sat down. He took a long draw of the amber liquid. “I hope you like it. I asked the bartender for something that two classy ladies would enjoy. It’s a hard cider.” He gave us a wink and a smile. On someone else, that might be sleazy, but he had an innocence that made me laugh instead.

  Mary and I picked up our drinks and lifted them. “Cheers.”
The liquid had a bite of tart apples but was smooth going down. The muscles in my neck, which I hadn’t realized were tight, loosened. Maybe it was the act of having a casual drink with friends, but already I felt more relaxed, holding the glass in my hands as we sat in silence. It felt companionable rather than awkward.

  Loggin had an Andersson Archery shirt on. Last time I had seen him was at the Westmound Center, trying to track down some money. “New sponsor?” I pointed at his shirt.

  “Yes, and better—new job. I’m the pro-staff coordinator at Andersson. I’ve been there three days.” He beamed.

  “What a first week.” I laughed.

  He took another sip of his cider. “Tell me about it. This job is the bomb.”

  Mary took a sip of her drink and wriggled her nose. “Tangy, but I think I like it. Thank you, Loggin. What are you doing at the trade show? Signing new athletes?”

  “No, most of the pro-staff contracts for the season have been signed for a while. I spent the first half of the week sending out the new season’s equipment to some shooters. In fact, I sent a few packages to both of you. At the show, I’m here as an extra body to show the product line to buyers.”

  “Will you handle the hunting pro staff, too? And sending their equipment?” Mary took another drink from her rapidly disappearing cider.

  “Yes, I will get them equipment, but no, I don’t do the money part—that’s the marketing peeps. But hopefully this spring I’ll be able to start making some decisions.”

  I extended a leg and rotated my foot. I hadn’t realized how stiff I was from sitting in a folding chair all day. “What happens this spring?”

  He drained the rest of his drink then set the glass on the table. “I’ll be hitting not only the 3-D circuit but the target tournaments as well. In fact, now that I live in Salt Lake, it’s a quick drive over to the center to train with you guys. You’ll teach me everything I need to know to shoot targets, right?”

  I was ready to tease him a little. “If you ask Minx—” But I was cut off mid-sentence by a man calling out Loggin’s name.

  Turning, I saw Cold, an archery video journalist I had met last month and instantly disliked. He was as tall as ever but more gaunt. His cheeks clung tightly to his bones, and his sleeves no longer strained around his biceps.