All the girls giggled and shot discreet looks among themselves.
“No, we didn’t,” I heard Vance whisper. “I just said … oomph!”
“Just play along,” I heard Tori whisper back.
“And our heroine?” I continued. “Tori? Well, meet the real-life Tori. She’s the basis and inspiration for the fictitious Tori.”
The girls presented their books to us and allowed the three of us to sign them. One of the blondes, wearing a dark blue shirt and white shorts, hesitated as her three companions stepped away from our table and began heading for the next nearest table, which was Cassie’s. As the three kids struck up a conversation with my fellow MCU author, I became aware of someone standing in front of me. Looking up, I offered the girl what I hoped was a genuine smile.
“Hello, there. I’ll bite. You’ve got something else you’d like to ask me about. Well, hit me with your best shot. What can I help you with?”
“I, er, uh, am hoping to … er, become a writer. Someday. Is there, well, I mean, could you give me any advice? For example, where do you draw your inspiration from?”
Glancing around the room, I could see there were more people waiting for signatures from the authors, but at the moment, the only person I had in front of my table was this girl. Nodding at the teenager, I sat back in my chair and pretended to think.
It was also at this time that I happened to glance down at Sherlock and Watson, fully expecting they’d be fast asleep. They weren’t. Both were wide awake, and both were staring at the girl. Well, more specifically, I think they were staring at the other three girls, who had now moved on to an author who wasn’t part of MCU.
“What’s your name?” I asked the girl.
“Jeanette. Jeanette Dissard.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jeanette Dissard. So, you’re looking to become a writer?”
The girl nodded eagerly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve been writing stories since I was seven.”
“Woof.”
I glanced down at Sherlock and gave him a pat on the head. “You’re a good boy, Sherlock. Hang in there, ’kay? Jeanette? Good for you. Well, the biggest piece of advice I can give you is to keep writing, every single day. It keeps those creative juices flowing.”
“How do I get an agent?” Jeanette asked. I could detect a hint of frustration in her voice. “There’s no clear explanation how you are supposed to find one.”
“That’s because most agents will require you to write them first and pitch your idea for a book. You’ll never want to send in a manuscript unless they specifically ask for it up front. What you’ll need to start working on is what’s called a query letter.”
The girl’s face lit up.
“I’m so glad you brought that up! How do you write one? How are you supposed to summarize your book in less than a paragraph?”
“Been researching this, too, haven’t you?” I guessed.
Jeanette nodded.
“You’ve been doing your homework, that’s for sure,” I told the girl. “Writing a query letter is very difficult. You have to introduce yourself, announce what type of book you’re pitching, and then explain it in such a way that arouses their interest. You have to make them want to read your book.”
“It’s not that easy,” Jeanette pouted.
I leaned forward. “Tell me about it. What I would do, if I were you, would be to look up examples of query letters online and write one based on the structure and format you find. Remember, most agents receive probably hundreds of letters each week. You’ll have to make yours stand out. And finally, don’t get discouraged if you’re turned down. Most writers will tell you that it takes upwards of three to four months before you’ll typically hear back from an agent, and ninety-nine percent of the time, you’ll be turned down. As an author, you’re going to have to grow some thick skin.”
The girl held out a hand. “Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Anderson. I won’t ever forget it!”
“I wish you the best, Jeanette. Tell you what, when you’ve finished your book, and if you’d like a second opinion on it, feel free to reach out to me. I’d be more than happy to take a look.”
Jeanette squealed with excitement. The other three girls in her group appeared by her side.
“Woof!”
I leaned back to check out the dogs curled up at my feet. “What’s the matter with you? Do you have to go outside? Can you give me five minutes?”
“He talks to his dogs all the time,” I heard Vance conspiratorially tell the group of girls.
“Continuing on,” I said, as I made a face at Vance, “if you choose to accept my help, then be prepared to accept the help I give as just that: help. I’m not going to go out of my way to make your life miserable. I will literally tell you what I think and what parts of your book could use more work. Be sure you can take critique for what it is and leave your personal feelings at home. Can you do that?”
The teenager beamed a smile at me. “Oh, absolutely! This is so exciting! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome. Where are you girls off to next?”
Two in the group, the redhead and the other blonde, shrugged, as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Jeanette looked back at her friends and pointed north.
“Want to get a bite to eat?”
The brunette, however, was frowning. “If we want to catch the Mighty Con before it closes down, we have to go. Now.”
“Tina, no one wants to go see the Mighty Con,” the brunette complained. “If you want to go so badly, then maybe you should just go see it yourself.”
“Fine! Maybe I will!”
Tina turned on her heel and stormed off. Surprised, I looked at the three friends and hooked a thumb at Tina’s retreating form.
“WOOF!”
“We’re almost at a stopping point, pal,” I told the corgi. “Bear with me. Jeanette? If you don’t mind me asking, just what is the Mighty Con?”
“It’s a comic-con,” the teenager explained. “This year, they’re focusing on comic books, which Tina hates.”
“Then, why ask if the rest of you were going to see it?” Jillian wanted to know.
The three teens shrugged, in unison.
“Tina’s always been something of a nerd,” Jeanette explained. “Besides, she was a little miffed this year.”
“It’s not our fault the Big Easy Con was canceled this year,” the second blonde girl said. “Not enough tickets were sold.”
“What do they do if that happens?” I asked.
“They either cancel the show or else push it off until enough tickets have been sold,” Jeanette answered.
Vance held up his hands in a time-out gesture. “Wait just a minute. You’re telling me girls actually want to go to these Star Trek conventions?”
“Star Trek is so lame!” the second blonde girl cried. “Star Wars is so much better!”
“And I like you so much better now,” I said, which caused the girl to blush. “Star Wars is soooo much better than Star Trek. You have excellent taste.”
“I just find it hard to believe girls would be interested in that type of stuff,” Vance continued, shaking his head.
Tori and Jillian regarded Vance with neutral expressions on their faces. Thankfully, Vance sensed the imminent danger he was in, and started backtracking.
“Well, okay, girls can like it too, I guess, only I haven’t known many that do.”
Jillian held up her hand. “I’ve been to five, detective. I’ve loved every one of them. What about you, Zachary?”
I held up four fingers. “You’re one higher than me. I will admit it’s been ages since I’ve been to one. We ought to go sometime, my dear.”
“How many of those comic-cons could there be?” Vance asked, bewildered. “I’d like to believe they are only held once a year?”
I shook my head, raised my index finger, and indicated he needed to go higher.
“Two? What, three? There’s no way, pal.”
“There’s more than you think,” I told my detective friend. The three girls were nodding. “Most cities have two or three each year, and some of the bigger cities have even more than that. It’s just a fun way to get together with other fans and talk about your favorite movies, television shows, and so on.”
“Don’t forget about dressing up as your favorite characters,” Jeanette said.
I shook my head. “I won’t say I’m a huge fan of dressing up, but I do enjoy watching everyone else have fun with it.”
“Where’s the Mighty Con being held?” Jillian asked. “Is it nearby?”
“It used to be,” Jeanette confirmed, “only it’s not as popular as it used to be. I don’t see how they could stay in business being so far away.”
“The last time a comic-con was held at the convention center, they tried giving tickets away,” the redheaded girl said, frowning. “There were online petitions, asking them to bring the comic-cons back, only it never happened.”
Jeanette sighed. “Comic-cons are so out right now. They need to either step up their game and get better guests or … or … I don’t know. Drop the price of admission?”
Intrigued by this line of thought, I cleared my throat and waited for the girls to look my way.
“Are you suggesting that the local comic-cons were struggling? They weren’t pulling in that many fans?”
All three girls nodded.
“Where’re you going with this, pal?” Vance inquired.
I held up a finger as a notion occurred. “Bear with me, buddy. Jeanette? Where were the comic-cons originally held?”
Jeanette turned to point southwest. “That way. There’s a big convention center that way.”
I nodded. “As it happens, I’m familiar with it. Um, it wouldn’t be the one that was attacked a couple of days ago, would it?”
The girls sadly nodded.
“People were poisoned there,” the second blonde teen told me. “It was so sad.”
“Not very mature,” the redheaded girl added.
Jeanette visibly brightened, as if she was a news reporter who had just shifted from one story to the next. “At least it didn’t happen when the Big Easy Con was there. That would have been horrible.”
“Could someone feel bad enough about losing their favorite comic-con to a bunch of authors and readers?” I quietly asked, making sure I was loud enough for Jillian, Vance, and Tori to overhear.
“As in, enough to enact some type of retaliation for losing their venue to a book convention?” Vance asked, nodding. “I think we might have a new lead to pursue.”
“Was this the big convention center right off the Mississippi?” Tori asked.
All three teens nodded.
Tori looked at Vance and offered him a sheepish smile. “Hey, I just wanted to be sure.”
“Awwwwooooooo!”
Surprised, everyone at our table looked down at Sherlock and Watson. They were on their feet and eyeing the teens, as though they didn’t trust them.
“What cute dogs!” Jeanette exclaimed. “What are their names?”
“Sherlock and Watson,” I automatically answered. I looked over at Vance. “A comic-con was trumped by an author convention. Our author convention. What does that sound like to you?”
Vance’s face hardened. “Motive.”
“And this other location?” the second blonde continued, in mid-rant, as she crossed her thin arms across her chest. “It’s tiny compared to the regular place. There’s hardly any vendors, the selection of merchandise sucks, and it can only be open certain hours.”
“Don’t forget where it’s being held now,” the redhead reminded her friend.
Jeanette snapped her fingers. “That’s right! It’s now over twenty miles away! What kind of idiot puts a convention so far away from the city? Someone who doesn’t like comic-cons, that’s who. Guys? Are you ready? It was nice chatting with you, Mr. Anderson. Loved the book! Keep up the good work!”
Once the teenagers were gone, I looked at my friends and was about ready to ask if we should look into the possibility that a disgruntled fan was responsible for the attack when a certain someone finally lost his patience with me.
“Awwwoooowoooowoooo!” Sherlock angrily howled.
“What’s gotten him so riled up?” Vance wanted to know, as he stepped away from the table and knelt down beside the feisty corgi. “What is it, boy? Is there something we need to see?”
The corgis were staring at the direction the girls had departed, but then I caught Sherlock looking off, toward a different door, which happened to be in the direction the fourth member of the group had gone. I figured Sherlock’s logic went something like, girl number one went outside, and then so did the rest of the group. Clearly, being outside was the place to be. It had probably been a few hours since either of the dogs had been able to do their business, so I figured a potty break was due.
“All right, I’m sorry. I know you’ve been wanting to go outside. There, see? I’m up. Let’s go outside and see if we can find a tree. I … whoa! Hold up! What’s your problem? Take it easy! We’re headed outside, okay?”
Once we were outside, we saw that Tina, the grumpy brunette from before, must have been waiting outside for her friends, because we saw that the four girls were together once more. However, this time, the group of friends were arguing among themselves. Ignoring the heated debate they were having, I veered off for the closest tree, only I was surprised to feel both dogs pulling on their leashes, and I mean they were pulling on those leashes as though they thought they were oxen plowing a field. Where were they headed? Toward the girls, of course.
“Would you knock it off?” I demanded. “What could you possibly want with …”
I trailed off as I realized a few things at the same time. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’ve already realized what I missed. But, in my case, I suddenly remembered all the times Sherlock woofed inside the hotel’s conference room. And, as those rusty wheels ground into motion, I remembered it started just after Tina had left to go outside. Was Sherlock trying to tell me something? Why had he wanted me to pay attention to the one girl who left the group early?
I looked over at Tina and studied her.
“What is it?” Jillian asked, as she finally caught up with us. “You three practically ran out of there as though you were being chased by the Boogeyman himself.”
I pointed over at the teens, who were still busy arguing.
“Look at them. The three of them are clearly mad at Tina, but I have no idea why. And, for that matter, it looks like Tina doesn’t care in the slightest.”
“You came out here to watch those girls? Whatever for?”
I pointed at the dogs. “Sherlock started woofing the moment Tina left the group. I didn’t pay any attention to it at the time, but I’m thinking I should have.
Jillian’s mouth formed an O of surprise. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means Sherlock recognized her,” Vance suggested, as he and Tori appeared next to my fiancée. “But from where, I don’t know.”
Just then, Tina looked over at us and saw us studying her and throwing in an occasional arm gesture. Seeing that we were all talking among ourselves, the teen girl said something to her friends and immediately darted away. The corgis, I should point out, wanted to pursue.
“They want us to go after her,” Vance said, as he studied the dogs. “Who’s that girl? What do we know about her?”
“Let’s go find out,” I said, as I hurried over to the three friends who looked as though they would now be perfectly happy to be a trio rather than a quartet. “Jeanette? Please pardon the interruption. Your friend, Tina? Can I ask how well you know her?”
“We’ve gone to school together since the second grade,” Jeanette said. “Why would she say she had to get away from you? You’ve never met her before, have you, Mr. Anderson?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I said.
“I wonder what’s wrong,” the
second blonde teenager said.
I pointed at Sherlock and Watson. “Well, my dogs have a way of indicating when something is amiss, and based on their reaction to your friend, they think something is wrong. Look at them. They want us to go after your friend, so I need to know what else you can tell us about her.”
Jeanette shrugged. “I can tell you just about anything you’d want to know. She’s a Scorpio. She’s also a serious Star Wars fan, and loves that baby Yoda character from the new series on Disney’s streaming service.”
“The Mandalorian,” I said, nodding. “Well, she’s got great taste.”
Jillian swatted my arm and held a finger to her lips.
“Tina has lived in New Orleans all her life. She’s said to me on more than one occasion that her great-grandmother used to live just down the street from her.”
The redhead snapped her fingers. “Don’t forget about Gus.”
Jeanette nodded. “That’s right. I was just coming to that.”
“Gus?” I repeated, puzzled. “Is that the name of her boyfriend?”
The three girls laughed out loud.
“No, silly,” Jeanette explained. “Gus. It’s actually an acronym for GS. It’s her family’s restaurant on St. Peter Street.”
Recognizing the name of the street, I fought to keep the excitement from my voice. “Er, um, what restaurant? What’s it called?”
“Gumbo Stop,” Jeanette answered. “Tina handles all their deliveries for them.”
TEN
“She must be him,” I said, as I followed the dogs along Royal Street, on our way back to the place where I had sampled gumbo for the first time. “And what was I thinking? Of course it’s gumbo! No wonder the dogs kept stopping to look at menus. What do you want to bet that if we were to look at those pictures I took, the ones with menus on them, we would find a listing for gumbo?”
“Your mystery man?” Tori asked, as she and Vance hurried to keep up. “You think your red-haired mystery man is really a girl?”
“That explains why I always thought the man we were looking for was either slight, or short,” Jillian said. She had control of Watson’s leash and was expertly guiding the female corgi around people, tourist displays, and so on. “No red hair, and no tattoos. I was right. It was clearly part of the mask she was wearing.”
Case of the Ragin' Cajun Page 15