Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3

by Nikki Haverstock

  “Di. Mary,” a male voice called, and I turned to spot Indy, a young adult I had met last month at the Summit.

  “Hey, Indy. Are you here with your dad?” Indy was Cold’s son, and I looked around to see if he was lurking somewhere.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, but he took off with Kandi somewhere. Where are you guys going? I’ll go with you.” He sneered at Kandi’s name, and I couldn’t blame him. He then gave Mary and me a gangly hug and fell into step beside us.

  “We have a lunch meeting.” I felt bad for him. He had driven me nuts last month, but he was so much like a floppy-eared puppy, especially with his bangs sliding over his eyes as he walked. He was only a few years younger than Mary, but he felt much younger than that.

  “Cool. Hey, is Minx here?” He wedged between Mary and me, looking back and forth between us.

  “No,” I shook my head. “She’s moving to the center this week. What have you been up to?”

  “I’m gonna help Dad filming this season. He really needs me.” His face lit up. Cold might be a jerk to us, but it seemed like he was a good father. “But stupid Kandi has been getting in the way. She’s nothing but trouble.” He muttered under his breath as he tripped on the base of the doorway heading into the main exhibit hall.

  “Oh?”

  “Totally. This is our project, and she keeps wedging herself into it. She’s self-centered and just using Dad.”

  I shrugged; that definitely sounded like Kandi. “Sorry, buddy. What are you working on this weekend?”

  “We’re getting new product videos to put up on dad’s website, but Kandi has decided that she should do the interviewing. She talks too fast and talks over the people. She’s a hag. They go out drinking every night until late, so I’m stuck in the room alone. Luckily, she’s not in our room. We filmed the opening ceremony and concert for the OIT Association, so they provided the room.”

  Mary leaned in. “You have footage of the opening ceremony? Do you think you could get us a copy without your dad knowing?”

  “Totally. Yeah, I could do that for you guys.” He smiled widely.

  He was so eager to please. “Thanks, Indy. Why don’t we treat you to lunch tomorrow as a thank you?”

  He ducked his head and cast his eyes at the ground. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, cool.”

  We approached the Westmound booth, and I spotted Liam and Orion hanging around and waved. We walked over, and Indy practically fell over himself.

  “Hi, Orion. Hi, Liam. Hey, I’m really sorry that I had to pull my OSA application. Living at the Westmound Center would be the coolest, but Dad really needs me to help this season, and he’s really counting on me. But I hope to one day be able to apply, and I don’t want you to think I’m some buttmunch or something.” He spoke quickly, rushing to get it all out in one breath.

  Liam chuckled and clapped Indy on the shoulder. “No problem, man.”

  Indy burst into another monologue, this time asking about new products with questions he already knew the answer to. He would ask a question, and then after Orion and Liam nodded, he explained why it was so cool. He seemed excited to hang out with Orion and Liam. Mary and I hung back, giving them space.

  Liam caught my eye and smiled at me. As he turned back to the conversation, something caught his eye. His eyes narrowed, and he mumbled, “Be right back,” to Indy. I turned to follow his sight line and saw Cold coming down the aisle. I nudged Mary, who was playing on her phone, and jerked my head toward Liam. I took several steps back to distance myself from Orion and Liam’s talking and crouched next to Moo. “Who’s a good dog?”

  Straining to hear Liam, I slowly crept backward a few more steps.

  Liam’s voice was flat. “Cold, we need to talk about the Westmound Summit footage.”

  “You got my email, Liam. I canceled the contract.”

  Liam’s voice held steady, but there was bite around the edges. “That’s the opposite of how contracts work.”

  “Fine,” Cold barked. I sneaked a glance. Cold was rubbing his nose with one hand, over and over, while digging in his backpack. “Here.” He shoved a bag at Liam. “This is all the footage I have. Good enough?”

  Liam grabbed the bag. “Yeah, we’re done.”

  Cold yelled, “Indy, get over here.”

  Cold grabbed Indy’s arm as he got close, and his angry voice carried over to us. “I told you to stay where I left you.”

  Indy whined in reply, barely audible from this distance. “But Dad, you were gone for hours.” The rest was lost as they walked off.

  Liam came over to us, shaking his head. “That guy. Ready for lunch? Today’s pasta and salad.”

  We filed into one of the conference rooms, falling into an easy pattern as Liam and Orion unpacked bags of food while I grabbed drinks from the cooler and Mary passed around utensils, napkins, and plates. It was quiet but not tense. We spooned food onto our plates and began eating.

  Orion grabbed some olives from a container. “Did you get everything settled with Cold?”

  Liam pushed the memory cards across the table. “Yeah, but let everyone know that we’re not working with him again. Something’s off.”

  I looked between them. “What happened?”

  Orion looked at Liam, and he nodded. Orion turned back to us. “You guys remember that Cold filmed the Westmound Summit?”

  “Yeah, and he was a total jackwagon.”

  “Yes, he was. The contract was to have the footage uploaded and hard drive sent to us within a week. We try to get the information out to all the companies right away so they are prepared by the time the trade show comes around. Cold started making excuses right away. Saying the murder investigation interfered with his ability to do the job. He made excuse after excuse, then he emails and says that he is canceling the contract.”

  Liam interrupted. “You can’t just cancel a contract for no reason. That’s the point of a contract.”

  “Right. I kinda doubt that these have anything on them, and it’s a bit late to use them if they do.” Orion picked up the bag and shoved it into a satchel behind the table. “I feel bad for Indy; he seems like a nice kid, but Cold’s on a bad path.”

  “What do you mean?” I bit into the tart pepper in my Italian salad, enjoying both the meal and the chance to swap gossip.

  “Cold’s emails got a bit…” He looked at Liam as he tried to pick a word.

  Liam volunteered, “Unhinged?”

  “Yeah, we got a couple of emails with lots of typos and rambling run-on sentences sent at two a.m. that sounded like a totally different person. I pretty much gave up on ever getting anything from him.”

  Liam nodded along and passed a bag down the table. “Garlic bread.”

  I grabbed a breadstick and passed the bag on to Mary. I inhaled the delicate scent of yeast, garlic, and butter. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes and savored the moment before biting into the soft, chewy, gluten-y goodness.

  “How were your mornings?” I looked at Liam and Orion between bites.

  Liam, as always the quiet one, shrugged. Orion grabbed a breadstick from the bag. “Met with some people, same ol’, same ol’. Jillian mentioned you’re writing an article on the hunting industry. We nodded along like of course we have a clue what you two are up to.”

  Mary giggled and smiled at Orion. “It’s part of our plan to hide our investigation of Cash’s death. The article, which was Sarah for the OIT Show’s idea originally, gives us an excuse to ask pointed questions without people calling us nosey.”

  “Smart.” Orion raised his hand and gave Mary a high five over the table.

  Mary took an intense interest in her pasta, the tips of her ears turning the slightest shade of pink.

  I stabbed at my pasta. “Do you know anything about Cash? Did any of the Westmound companies sponsor him?”

  “That”—Orion pointed at me—“is a great question and one we’ve no way of answering. Elizabeth brought that up this week. There is no way for us at Westmound-Andersson to know what ar
chers are representing which of our companies other than to ask the individual or the companies. It gets even fuzzier when we talk about free product or noncontracted shooters. The same is true for the firearms companies. Is there a way to fix that?”

  I loved these kinds of challenges. In my old job, these questions were what fueled the solutions we had created for our clients. “Yes, you have a lot of options depending on how your companies are currently tracking their shooters, how much work you want them to do in keeping the system updated, and your overall goals.”

  Liam leaned forward on the table. “We give our companies a lot of freedom in how they market, but is there a way for us to more easily keep an eye on what they are doing?”

  “We could create a database on the Cloud, which would require them to update it every time they give out money or product. Or you could do something where an off-site person updates the records based on a report from the company. That would depend on how much you want to force the companies to change.”

  Liam and Orion exchanged a look before Orion continued. “It would be nice to look at all the companies and see which shooters are receiving what money and product so we could make some overall branding decisions. And know who is representing our companies when they are on the Internet posting racist and sexist stuff.”

  Mary swallowed quickly before joining the conversation. “Someone told us that sometimes sponsorship is given out because the marketing person gets free hunts and stuff.”

  Liam groaned and buried his face in his hands.

  Mary looked around. “Was that wrong?”

  Liam lifted his hands. “No, it’s right, and that’s the problem. This is a huge company, not kids swapping lunches.” He turned his head to me. “You think you could help us out?”

  I nodded. “Absolutely. There’s a way to get the information into a form that you guys can analyze; it all depends on what you want and how it’s implemented.”

  We went back to our meal, picking at the last bits of the food on our plates. I was lost in thought at all the questions that had been brought up. How did the various companies track their sponsorships now? Was there one person making the decisions or several people? Would they be upset with Westmound-Andersson looking over their shoulders?

  A thought occurred to me. “Loggin.” Everyone looked at me. “He just got the job at Andersson, and they’re one of your bigger companies. He seems pretty eager to make a good impression, and he’s new enough to the industry and especially this job to not be set in his ways. You could use him as a test subject on this new tracking system. Work out the kinks then implement it companywide once it is working well.”

  Liam and Orion exchanged another look. They seemed to have perfected the art of communicating without words. Liam rubbed a hand in his beard. “Good idea. We’ll grab him this week and chat with him. I know he wants to come out to the center in Wyoming to train, so maybe we could discuss it more one of those times when he’s out.”

  The meal was winding down. Orion gathered up a few things at the table. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

  Mary and I exchanged a look. The boys weren’t the only ones who could communicate without words. Mary answered. “We’re going to hit the floor and walk around. It took us most of the morning to see the other show hall and visit Focal Optics, so I doubt we can even finish seeing this hall and maybe swing by the other optics company.”

  I nodded. “Crystal-Clear Optics.” Moo came over, having woken from his nap, and pawed on my leg. “Moo says it’s time to go outside.”

  We tidied up the room as a team, gathering up trash, closing containers, and wiping down the table. Stepping from behind Liam, I heard a voice ring out. “There he is. Liam.” I followed the voice to discover Hannah, Cash’s wife, on her tiptoes pointing at Liam.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hannah darted around the employee she had been talking to and approached Liam, dabbing at her eyes. Her eye makeup was perfect, and there was no evidence of crying, but she sniffled delicately before talking. “Oh Liam, I was hoping to talk to you. I’m Cash’s widow and”—she stopped mid-sentence and brought the clean tissue to her clear eyes again.

  Liam looked like a deer in the headlights, and it only increased when she placed a hand on his arm and collapsed onto it to “cry.”

  “Uhhhh…” He looked around for help. “Unfortunately, we have a full schedule. Perhaps we can get you a water?”

  I scooted back into the room and grabbed a plastic bottle of water, and as I stepped back out with Moo, I grabbed Mary’s arm to drag her next to me. I tapped Hannah on the shoulder. When she turned, I offered the water. “How are you doing? All four of us were there when you found your husband.”

  She took the water from my hand and opened it to take a drink. She carefully looked at Liam and Orion then Mary and me—two men, two women, travelling together—and did the math. She put the lid back on and faced me. “I’m barely holding on. Pardon my breakdown. I just wanted to thank everyone that found Cash after his fall.”

  I stepped between her and Liam and put an arm around her shoulder, steering her farther away. “Of course. If there is anything I can, you just let me know.”

  I stepped away, and we exchanged a long look. She was much shorter than my average height. This close, I realized that she was much older than I’d guessed. I had pegged her age around mine, thirty, but she was probably in her forties. Her makeup was impeccable and expertly done. There was not a single wrinkle on her forehead or between her eyebrows, though there was the faint play of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. Most likely she used Botox to tame those forehead muscles. Her lips were full but in the trout-pout way that indicated fillers. She was thin but had a strength to her. Probably hours in the gym with yoga, Pilates, and whatever exercise class was most popular right now. Her hair was laced with highlights and lowlights, each whimsical curl turning just right. She looked great and obviously spent a lot of money to maintain that look. She was everything that Kandi, with her layers of heavy makeup and brassy hair color, strived to be but missed.

  Her voice was cool when she replied, “Thank you, I’ll be fine.” Then she turned on her petite feet and walked away.

  Moo whined next to me, and I realized I was clenching the muscles in my mouth, my teeth grinding. “Shhh, Moo. It’s okay.” I stomped back to Mary.

  She was staring with wide eyes. “Di.”

  I cast a glance over my shoulder then leaned in to Mary to say in a quiet voice, “Can you believe she came over here sniffing around Liam?” I looked around for Liam, but both he and Orion were gone, probably in a meeting.

  “Di,” Mary repeated.

  “She did it. I just know it.”

  “Di?”

  “What?” Hearing my own voice in my ear, I was embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap. I mean, what?” I repeated in a gentler tone.

  “Your face is really red.”

  “What?” I lifted a hand to my face, pushing on my hot cheeks.

  “You went all Hulk when she touched Liam, but instead of green, you went red. I thought you were going to hit her.”

  “But… I kinda thought I handled it smoothly.” The anger drained out of me, and embarrassment rose in its place.

  Mary shook her head. “I’ve seen boxing matches that were less aggressive.”

  Frantically, I looked around the booth to see if anyone had noticed; perhaps they would be staring and laughing. “Do you think anyone noticed?”

  Mary smiled. “Liam looked totally relieved when you marched her away, but Orion was holding back laughter.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Geez, this is embarrassing.”

  “Why? Everyone knows you two are a thing.”

  “We’re not a thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are so a thing. There’s a betting pool at the training center.”

  “There is not! Who is in on it? What does it say?” I gasped.

  She shrugged. “No idea. I only foun
d out by accident, and they won’t tell me any more. They said I was too close, and it’d be like insider betting.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You never brought up Liam that way. I know you’re really private, and you would bring it up when you were ready.”

  “Oh, Mary, I’m private, but we’re friends. You can tell or ask me anything.”

  She smiled. “Okay, then. Do you really think Hannah killed Cash, or were you just mad?”

  I leaned back and gave the question weight. “She was definitely buttering Liam up for something. Or trying to. That’s weird. We thought it was weird when Kandi did it last month, and it’s weird now.”

  Mary scooted closer so our sides were pressed up against each other and no one could overhear. “She’s so tiny—no way she could have thrown his body up over that wall onto the floor below.”

  “She either found a way to do it alone or had help. She was already at the top of the list, but this little act today really makes me suspicious. Tonight, let’s see if we can figure out what floor he fell from and if there was any way she could have done it alone. We’ll nail her to the wall.”

  “If she’s guilty?”

  “Huh?” I turned to Mary.

  “Only if she’s guilty will you nail her to the wall?”

  “Of course.”

  She shook her head and blew out a sigh. “Good. You were sounding a bit bloodthirsty there for a bit. Wanna take Moo out for a walk then get started?”

  “Good idea. I could use some cold air on my face to clear my head.”

  ***

  The afternoon had lazily crawled along. We visited Crystal-Clear Optics, the second name on Westmound’s list. It was a high-end booth with a beautiful array of products. A saleswoman had given us a suggested retail price list that blew my socks off, but after looking through a few spotting scopes and seeing the image quality, I was wondering if I should save up to buy one myself.

  We had seen about a third of the main exhibit hall booths, then we ran into Sarah, who had news for us.

  “Glad to catch y’all. Tony Moore at Real Outdoor Adventures said he could fit you in for an interview for your article. If you follow this aisle all the way to the end and turn left, you’ll see the booth. Just let the secretary at the front desk know I sent you over to meet with Tony Moore, and she’ll take care of you. Sorry, gotta run.” Without a second look back, she darted away.