Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3

by Nikki Haverstock

  I grabbed one of Jess’s cards from my pocket and handed it to her. “We’d love to grab dinner, but also get in touch with Jess, and through her, Robbie, the director of the center. They’re both looking for ways to promote the center.” We exchanged hugs and headed in through a different entrance.

  Three burly, bearded men stopped us as we entered the exhibit hall. “Are you Di and Mary?”

  Mary and I exchanged a surprised look before I turned back to the men. “Yes, we are. Can I help you?”

  The man chuckled. “We’re the three Billy brothers. Sarah told us that you wanted an interview for an article and to keep an eye out for the gigantic black-and-white dog. I’m Tuff, that’s Buff, and he’s Gruff.”

  We shook hands, weaving in and out until everyone had met. With a jolt, I realized that I didn’t know who was who.

  The one with the largest beard hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Do you have a few minutes? We’re heading out tonight, and this is our only chance to talk.”

  We exited and moved toward the tables near the food stands. People crisscrossed the area, balancing plates of food or mountains of brochures. A group of coworkers in matching shirts sat with their feet up on chairs. It was one of the few places at the trade show where you could sit and rest.

  Mary slipped me her phone and mouthed the words “crime photos” then explained to the brothers what the article was about.

  We sat down, and she started the interview. I pulled my chair back away from the table, out of the men’s direct line of sight, and made a great show of patting Moo and not being involved in the interview. Mary started asking questions about individual roles on the show and the show in general. Quickly, their entire attention was on her.

  I opened the phone and tapped to the photos. Scanning past the photos of Orion, Moo, and herself that she had taken in the car this morning, I found the crime scene photos. There was Hannah crying on Lex’s shoulder. In the handful of people behind Lex and Hannah, grabbing their pint glasses of beer, were the same three bearded men that sat in front of us now.

  I studied the pictures, looking for any other people I recognized. There was a tall gal that seemed familiar though I couldn’t place her. No one else in the pictures looked familiar. Two older women, a couple of younger guys and one older man but no one that we had encountered so far. Unless they came up soon in the investigation, they could be ignored.

  Mary coughed loudly, startling me. I looked and she started talking again. “I heard that a few years ago, you switched timeslots. What lead to that decision?”

  I held my breath as the men exchanged wary looks before the middle one turned back to us and answered, “It was a rebranding decision.”

  “What?” I burst out. They turned to look at me. “I mean, I thought…”

  The man on the left answered, “There were a lot of rumors but the truth is—”

  “Rebranding is the truth,” the man on the right interrupted.

  The two men glared at each other until the man smacked a fist on the table. “Enough. Sarah said we could approve the article before it was published and that Mary would make us look good. I’m telling the truth.” The three men exchanged looks before the two on the sides nodded in agreement. “The truth is a little complicated. We’ve been doing the show for years, and it was getting stale. We had this expensive timeslot, and each season we lost another sponsor until we were debating canceling the show.”

  Mary scribbled a note. “We heard the timeslot was stolen.”

  He nodded. “We heard that, too. The truth is that we were already talking to Tony about moving to a different, less expensive timeslot. When Cash asked about our timeslot and Tony called to check, we said to give it to him. A lot of people assumed that Cash stole it, and we didn’t correct them, but the truth’s that we never could have kept it. People can record shows and watch whenever they want. What’s the point in paying an arm and a leg for a prime timeslot anymore? That’s what Denise taught us.”

  “Who’s Denise?” Mary looked up from the notebook.

  The man on the left answered. “My daughter. She’s the one that did an overhaul of the whole show. Got us on the Internet, connecting with our fans, picked out nicknames, and gave us each a personality and role on the show to match. She revamped the entire show, and now we’re the leading hunting show when it comes to social media presence and technology.” He beamed with pride.

  This pretty much dashed their motive. “So you weren’t mad at Cash?”

  The guy on the right answered, “Not for this. Don’t get me wrong. That guy Moose, his agent or whatever you call it, is a real slimeball. And I didn’t trust Cash farther than I could throw him, but we didn’t have a personal beef with him. Never could figure out how Vinny could stand to work with him.”

  Mary perked up. “Vinny? You don’t mean the same Vinny that works with Jack and Jillian, do you?”

  The middle Billy brother answered. “Yeah, that’s the same Vinny. He used to work with Cash.”

  After Mary finished the interview, we said our good-byes and headed back into the exhibit hall.

  “Well, Sherlock.” I scratched behind Moo’s ears. “I think we can cross them off the suspect list. What should we do now?”

  “We really need to hit the rest of the trade show. We’re running out of time.”

  “But there’s two days left. We’re not even halfway through the show.”

  Mary shook her head. “Not really. Tomorrow is the last full day. The fourth day is a throwaway day, really. Only open until noon, then people tear down the booths and leave. It’ll be almost empty that day. In fact, some people will pack up and leave tomorrow evening. Orion said we’ll check out that morning and swing by the show only long enough to say good-bye. They need to drop us off in Wyoming then get back to Utah, and they don’t want to get home too late in the day.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been just wandering along, thinking we had all the time in the world. We need to crank this investigation up to eleven.”

  Mary chuckled. “Okay, Watson, glad you’ve found your investigational fortitude. Who’s next?”

  My mind was racing. “How did we waste so much time?”

  Mary stopped chuckling and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be upset; we had to learn about the whole industry. That’s a lot.” She dragged me off to a wall where two chairs were tucked behind a few potted plants. “Let’s see what we have so far and plan out the investigation.”

  As we sat down, I felt a little silly. “Hannah, suspect numero uno. She did it.”

  “Oh, well good, we’re all done here. Let’s just go tell Hannah to turn herself in.” Mary flipped her notebook shut and went to stand up.

  “Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please continue.”

  Mary smirked and opened the notebook. “We’ll start with Hannah. She’s acting weird, and as the wife, she is the number-one suspect automatically. What are her motives?”

  “She could be having an affair, he could have been having affair, it could’ve been about money, or heck, all three. If what Jillian and Tony said is right, then he would be spending a lot of money to keep the show afloat. You know, the more I think about it, it really could be her.”

  “But she couldn’t have lifted him over the wall next to the hallway.”

  “Maybe not just her alone, but she could have had help or something.”

  Mary pulled her phone out and pulled up the pictures again. “Lex is in the picture, and that tall gal from his booth.”

  “So maybe Lex and Hannah are having an affair and killed Cash? Or maybe Lex is in love with her and got Cash out of the picture so he could keep her to himself? Or maybe it’s some weird love triangle.”

  “Or it could be someone that purposely didn’t show up to find the body. Who else is on your list of suspects?”

  She flipped a few pages. “I have Moose; he had a falling out with Cash, according to Loggin, though he was still tight with Cash a few years a
go, according to the Billy brothers. And Vinny; why didn’t Jillian say anything about Vinny working for Cash when we asked about the show? That’s kinda suspicious. Anyone else?”

  I nodded my agreement; it was suspicious. Moo laid his head in my lap, and I rubbed his neck. “Those are the only people I can think of right now, but maybe more suspects will show up. But you know I’m right. Hannah did it.”

  Mary nodded. “Okay, Watson, you made your point. If we track down Vinny and Moose today then solve the murder tonight, you can spend all tomorrow walking the floor. Would that make you feel better?”

  I felt a bit more relaxed to have a plan and ever-shortening list of suspects. “Yes, it would. Thank you. Do you really think we can find the murderer tonight?”

  Mary stood and started gathering up her bag. “Maybe, but we can try. To be fair, the first two murders we solved were a lot easier, and even then we only solved the crime through dumb luck.”

  “Or smart luck,” I countered. “Are we going to use the article angle when we approach Vinny and Moose?”

  Mary threw her messenger bag over her shoulder then shrugged. “It’s worked so far. Let’s see if Loggin can introduce us to Moose.”

  We headed toward the Westmound booth, when Moo pulled at the leash and barked. Sure enough, I was lost in thoughts of murder and mayhem and hadn’t noticed that we were near Karma again. “That danged yeti, I swear. Shhh, Moo.”

  Eyes swiveled around at Moo’s barking, and Mike, from the booth, chuckled and came over. “I guess Moo still has strong feelings about Karma, eh? Have you been a bad dog? Is Karma gonna get ya?”

  We asked how his day went and made idle chitchat for a few minutes while Moo growled and huffed at the thirty-foot-tall enemy. Mike offered the back of his hand to Moo to sniff, but Moo leaned around Mike to keep his eyes locked on Karma. “Don’t worry, Moo. Karma will be gone tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh? Isn’t that a day early?” I asked.

  “Yep, but you would be surprised how difficult it is to move Karma around, and the best price required us taking her out a day early, but it’s okay—everyone’s seen her by now.” He turned around and grabbed some papers off a table. “Here’s a few flyers for our event.” He grabbed a pen and wrote on a flyer. “There’s my email. Bring your whole crew, and let me know if you have any problems getting hotel rooms.”

  “Thanks. I’ll give this to Jess; she runs the archery part of the training center and plans our tournament schedule.” I passed one flyer to Mary and stuck the other in my pocket. We headed down the row past the Westmound booth and across the aisle to Andersson Archery.

  “Hey, Moo.” Loggin came up, greeting Moo first by taking a knee and ruffling Moo’s gigantic ears. “How’s the murder investigation going?”

  I hushed him. “Don’t say that so loudly. We’re trying to be discreet.” I looked around for spying eyes. “Could you introduce us to Moose?”

  He rolled his eyes. “That guy. Wait til you meet him. His ego is the size of a house. He wanted to meet you guys, too. Something about an article and how he was going to explain how things really work. I think he’s trying to get in good with Liam and figures Di is the key to that.”

  My cheeks flared hot, and I avoided eye contact. “No idea why he would think that.”

  Loggin let out a loud laugh. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. But what’s this about an article?”

  Mary hitched her bag to the other shoulder. “Sarah from the OIT Show asked us to write an article on the hunting shows and”—she leaned in and lowered her voice—“it’s a great cover for investigation.”

  “Smart. Oh hey, did you recommend me to Orion for a new project?”

  “Huh?” The lack of sleep was muddling my brain.

  “Something about tracking sponsorships. Orion wants to work with me to start it or something.”

  “Oh yeah, Orion and Liam wanted to see if there was a way for them to knowe what archers—and shooters—were supported by which company without having to call each company individually. I made a few suggestions and thought that you might be a good person to try out whatever we come up with. I’m sorry. I probably should have asked before I volunteered you.” It hadn’t occurred to me until now that Loggin might not want to be volunteered, though really, my loyalty was to Liam and through him, Westmound.

  “No, no, thank you for suggesting me. The opportunity to work with Orion directly is awesome. He’s like The Man. Give me a second to let my boss know that I’m helping you real quick, then we can go find Moose.”

  I leaned over to Mary. “I’m so spoiled. I forget that Liam and Orion are kind of a big deal in this industry.”

  Mary chuckled. “Heck, sometimes you forget that I’m a big deal.”

  “I could never forget that.” Mary had been a top-ranked female recurve archer heading into the Summer Games trials tournaments when her mother’s health scare had derailed her. She took some time off after that but had been back training for the last few months. “I’m lucky to shoot with you. You’re a good influence.”

  “And you’re a quick learner, plus you’re in the best possible place to train, and once we get home, you are going to have the most awesome equipment ever.”

  “That makes me a bit nervous. What if I can’t live up to the equipment?”

  “You will, and don’t worry, it’s one of the perks for working where you do. If you had crappy equipment, it would be worse. You’re representing the Westmound brand, and you need to look the part.”

  I shifted my feet. I loved the brand-new bow and couldn’t wait to get it set up. Tournament season started in a few weeks. I was excited and terrified. “What if people point and say ‘She sucks. Why does she have such nice stuff?’”

  “Screw ’em. What do you care what others think of you? I know that you’ll be great, and there’s no point in disadvantaging yourself just because of what others might think.”

  “You’re so smart.” She was in her early twenties, but her head was firmly on her shoulders, and her competitive experience gave her solid wisdom on many topics.

  She gave me a smile. “I know. You really should listen to me more.”

  Loggin jogged back over. “All set. I saw Moose this morning, and he mentioned a few places he might be today. He was angling for a meeting with Orion, but Orion and the whole Westmound-Andersson crew are booked with meetings all week. Or so they told him.”

  Loggin dodged and weaved his way through the crowd on long legs. Mary and I struggled to keep up as he talked.

  “Connie’s in charge of their schedule, and she turned everyone down ,so then they came over to our booth to see if someone can sneak them in. I can’t tell you how many of these hunting personalities tried to convince me that they needed to have a meeting with Orion or Liam. Like I have that kinda pull. There he is.” Loggin stopped, and I ran into his back.

  “Sorry. Where?”

  Loggin turned and started walking down an aisle and in front of a booth of camouflage tents and hunting blinds. “Hey, Moose.”

  Moose barreled over and extended his hand. “I’m Moose. You must be Di and Mary. I figured you would want to talk to me for your article. Thanks, Loggin.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Loggin said his good-byes, leaving us standing awkwardly in front of Moose. He was not just exceedingly tall but stood so close that there was no way to look him in the eye other than to crane my head back like I was observing the clouds or Superman overhead. A prickle of unease moved down my spine.

  I had always considered moose a benevolent creature, but at home there had been a rash of moose attacks. A lady had been walking her dogs when one ran up behind her and, as she turned, head butted her. I looked at Moose warily. “We’re hoping to chat with you somewhere. Maybe we can find a table to sit at?” I stepped back into the aisle between booths and looked toward the walls where we had found chairs and tables before.

  “No, we’re cool. Come on. There’s a table in here we can use.” Walking f
arther into the booth, Moose kicked one of the booth employees out of a chair.

  Mary and I exchanged an uneasy look. Mary pulled out her notebook, flipping to a clean page. “Are you sure? There are plenty of empty spots to sit—”

  “No, here’s fine.” He sat down, stretching his legs out under the table. The only way to avoid straddling his feet was to pull the chairs far away from the table.

  Mary balanced the notebook in her lap. “Tell me about what you do.”

  “I’m sure Liam told you all about me.” He adjusted the baseball hat on his head and tipped his chin up in the air.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him. “We want the most accurate information possible for the article. It’s always best to get it directly from the horse’s mouth.”

  He winked at me. “Smart. I’m a deal maker. I work with a variety of companies”—he gestured around the booth—“as well as archers and shooters to set up sponsorships or buyouts, or sometimes, I do some headhunting. Basically, if you need something done in this industry, you need me.”

  He launched into a series of stories about the people he was good friends with that relied on his insight to be successful. Unfortunately, none of them were people I knew, and name-dropping was lost on me. I deliberately kept eye contact when he looked at me and tried to nod and say “Oh?” at the appropriate times. Minutes stretched on, but he continued to talk. I could see Mary’s notebook, and her notes had been replaced with a row of hearts and drawings of various bows—the archery kind, of course. Moose droned on.

  “I have a close connection with anyone who’s anyone. Though I have to say I haven’t had too much contact with the Westmound-Andersson office. Maybe we should get together soon. I’m sure I could help them.”

  I bit my tongue from sharing my immediate thought.

  He continued. “Mary, I’m just starting to expand into recurve archers. You should have me represent you.”

  Mary’s mouth opened but nothing came out. She looked at me. “Uh…” I stalled for time before I came up with a solution. “You know, because of our job at the Westmound training center, we don’t really have a lot of freedom right now with sponsorships.”