Death Indoors: Target Practice Mysteries 4

by Nikki Haverstock

  "I'll take care of these." He grabbed the plates from in front of me and piled them onto his tray. "Get yourself ready--it looks like the first meeting starts in less than ten minutes."

  CHAPTER SIX

  I got up and gave Moo a good scratching all over. He had been so patient yesterday while I watched Mary shoot in the morning and then when I shot. Normally we went on multiple walks every day and moved all over the center checking in on projects for different people, not to mention the time spent in the archery ranges and weight rooms.

  Moo's tongue lolled out of his mouth as he closed his eyes and lifted his snout in ecstasy. I switched from scratching him to massaging his rump and hips. Suddenly he let out a low, long howl of pleasure. I kneeled down and hugged him around the neck, peppering his head and ears with kisses before wiping black and white dog hair off my lips.

  There was a table with four chairs near the window. I could sit on the far side next to Liam and keep an eye on the wall clock. "Come on, handsome."

  I grabbed the notebook, and Moo followed me to the table. I saved the chair next to the window for Liam, since he ran hot. Liam pulled the table behind me farther back, then Moo lay down behind the chairs. He rolled onto his back twisting one way then the other, his lips flapping onto the ground to expose his teeth. With a sudden sneeze, he tipped onto his side and closed his eyes. He was a good dog.

  Liam slid into the chair and leaned against the window. "Aw, that feels nice. Why do they have to keep it so warm in here?" He pulled off a sweatshirt and hung it over the back of his chair. "Who's up first?"

  I copied the notes from the back of my hand onto a clean sheet of paper before flipping back to the list. "How nice. Jess put the name of their parent next to the archer. Hmmm." I stared at the first names on the first time slot: Bill Morgan and father Sam. I probably should have paid more attention to people's real names rather than giving everyone a nickname in my head.

  While it was true that I hadn't ever interviewed an archer for a sponsorship deal, I'd been responsible for most of the hiring at the company I used to own with my soon-to-be ex-husband. I had learned a lot in the process, and one discovery was that people would gladly talk about themselves if you gave them a reason and an opportunity.

  "I think I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be. I'll give the little speech then ask them why they should be sponsored and go from there. What do you think?"

  "I think you're ready. You'll do great." He rubbed my back briefly, the warmth of his hand soaking through my jersey.

  I leaned over to whisper to Liam. "I'm pretty sure that's them. That's the kid whose equipment Coach Ron jacked up during practice. Grabbed his plunger and twisted it, remember?"

  "Yes, I remember. Kinda hard to forget." Liam rolled his eyes at me.

  The room had emptied out pretty well. Buckle Boy and Spotting Scope Dad were watching us. I called out, "Sam and Bill?"

  They responded by leaping up and closing the distance.

  They sat down and looked at me expectantly.

  "First, I'll give some general pointers, then we can do a mock interview. Liam will throw in his two cents as he sees fit. Okay?"

  They nodded their heads, and I dove in.

  ***

  I stumbled through my speech, with Liam nodding and occasionally clarifying a point. Luckily when I asked Buckle why he should be sponsored, he carried the conversation all the way through to the end of our fifteen minutes. Liam followed up with a couple of suggestions of how Buckle could fill out his resume.

  "How did the tournament go yesterday? You had a pretty rough start," I blurted out when I couldn't think of a smooth transition into the topic.

  Buckle sighed dramatically. "My first round yesterday was awesome. My bow was shooting really well. I think it was set up better than any time ever. But my second round wasn't as great."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Yeah, it's okay." Buckle stared down at the table.

  His father groused in his chair. "Too much going on in the day; the boy ran out of steam. I'm really proud of how well he did, considering how the day started."

  Buckle looked at his dad and beamed.

  "Was that whole situation, Coach Ron messing with equipment when fired, a common thing?"

  The dad rocked back in his chair. "Not at all. I've never heard of a coach doing anything like that. I was going to file a protest with the national organization, but I guess there's no point now."

  Buckle crossed his arms over his chest. "I told you he was going to be mad."

  "Yes, you did. But I never could've imagined he would do something like that. I thought maybe he'd yell or something."

  "Did he yell a lot?" I looked between father and son, waiting to see who would answer.

  Buckle shrugged. "I guess. He'd say that we weren't focusing enough or goofing off, but he didn't ever yell at me directly. He stuck to his teacher's pets."

  "Like who?"

  "The girls mostly. Becky got most of his attention. Her dad owns the store that they shot at."

  The dad leaned in. "That's part of the reason we left. Coach Ron pretty much ignored Bill." He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "He'd tell Bill to keep working on stuff but never gave him much feedback. We were paying too much money to get only general feedback like 'stand up straight' or 'be aggressive.' I could do that at home. How are the coaches here?"

  I was caught off guard by his change in subject, but it made sense. "Great. I work with Jess, who's totally amazing. Bruce is also very good. He's been coaching college programs for years. I believe both will be hosting weekend camps in... spring, I think?"

  We were running over the time slot, and a mother stood next to the windows four tables away with the redheaded student who had stood next to me on the line. Coach Ron's star student.

  If there was anything else that I needed to ask, I didn't have much time. "Bet you were pretty mad at Coach Ron?"

  The son shrugged. The dad adjusted his hat. "Not anymore. It's bad luck to speak ill of the dead." He looked at his watch and jumped out of his seat. "We've gone way over. Come on, Bill, let's grab your stuff and get ready to warm up. Thanks for your time, Di, Liam. We got a lot out of it."

  We shook hands, and they left. The redheaded girl and her mother looked at me expectantly. I held up my index finger and mouthed "One second," and they settled back into their chairs.

  "How did I do?" I kept my voice low.

  "Great. You covered all the topics, but you can tighten it up a bit. Like if you say 'no lying on your resume,' you probably don't need to go through all the ways they shouldn't lie."

  I giggled. "Sorry about that. I'm a little nervous. What did you think of him?"

  "Okay. The kid's not really in a place to earn sponsorship from us yet. A shop shooter situation would be best, where he represents a store and gets a small discount on equipment there. Maybe in a few years when he has some wins under his belt."

  "Good to know, but I was asking if you think that he or his dad were angry or scared enough to Taser Coach Ron?"

  "That's your job." Liam gave me a crooked smile.

  I smiled back then looked at the paper. "Becky and Bertha Strates. Becky's the daughter. She stood next to me yesterday. She's Coach Ron's star student, the one he was 'coaching' every second of the tournament. If I was her, I would have done anything to get him to be quiet."

  I turned to the redheaded girl and her mother. "We're ready for you."

  The redheaded girl politely held out her hand to me. "I'm Becky, and this is my mother Bertha." Up close, her eyes were horribly bloodshot. She sniffled and rubbed at her nose.

  "How are you holding up?"

  Becky's eyes filled up with tears, and one trickled down her cheek.

  Her mother put an arm around Becky's shoulder and passed her a tissue. "We've been a wreck. Becky was pretty close to Coach Ron. He's been running his program out of our archery store for over two years, and Becky was his first student and his best."

&nbs
p; Becky sniffled and cried. "I can't shoot without him!"

  Her mother hugged her harder. "It'll be fine. I know you're sad, but you can compete without him. He'd want you to."

  Becky started sobbing and muttering, "No, you don't understand. I need him."

  I looked at Liam, confused as to how to continue.

  "Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom." Becky stood up, her chairs flipping over backward. "I'm sorry." She started to reach for the chair but turned and ran from the room instead.

  Her mother righted the chair. "I'm sorry. She really wanted to talk to you, but I don't think she's ready."

  "Was she really close to Coach Ron?"

  "Oh yes, he started the YAP at our store--my husband and I own an archery store--about two years ago. She's been courted by a few college coaches, but she decided to stay local to work with Coach Ron... Oh, I mean that used to be the plan. Oh dear." She dabbed at her eyes as tears welled up.

  I tried to think of a coach or teacher that I'd had in high school that I liked so much I would have skipped the whole college experience to continue working with, but none came to mind. Perhaps Becky was just wired differently. "He seemed very devoted to her." That was the nicest way I could describe his coaching style.

  "He was. He paid attention to all his YAP archers, but he always said that Becky was special. He even set aside several times each week to work with her all alone so he could devote all this time to her. I'm sorry, I should go check on her. Thank you for your time."

  She gathered up her things and left the room. A few more people trickled into the room. Several archers were clutching white sheets of paper, but several of the kids and adults not signed up to talk to Liam and I were eating and casting glances our way.

  We had a few minutes before the next meeting. "Does it seem weird to you how distraught Becky was?"

  Liam quirked an eyebrow at me. "Not everyone handles murder as calmly as you."

  "I don't mean that part. Obviously she's upset about his death, but she seems convinced that she can't compete without him."

  Liam shrugged and fidgeted in his chair. "A lot of these young archers are dependent on their coaches."

  That was true, but something still felt off. "Could she be so upset because she accidentally killed Ron?"

  "You're the investigator, Miss Marple. I'm just here as eye candy." He winked at me.

  Perhaps we should ditch the rest of the meetings. I could lure him off somewhere private and see if we could redo last night.

  "What happened to you two?"

  I jerked my attention off Liam. Mouse stood on the opposite side of the table. "Huh?" Was our flirting so obvious?

  Mouse rolled her eyes. "Your eyes? Whatcha do, take up boxing?"

  "Oh, Moo hit Liam, and then we smacked heads."

  She looked at me then Liam then back to me. "Mmmhmm. Anyways, I'm finished printing out the resumes for the kids that needed help. Unless you need any more, I'll go open up the practice range."

  "Thanks, Mouse."

  She turned and addressed the room. "I'm heading over to the practice range; it'll be open in about ten minutes if anyone wants to warm up."

  As she stepped out of the room, an adult that I vaguely recognized from the day before inched toward our table. "Excuse me, uh, I heard that you were giving feedback on applying for sponsorships, and I was wondering if maybe--"

  She was cut off by a father who jumped out of his chair and raced over, lightly bumping into her. "Yeah, if you've got time then--"

  A few more people, adults and children, got up to stand behind them, adding their requests to meet with us.

  I looked at Liam, and he shrugged. This was beyond the intention of my original suggestion but it would be a nice way to make this event seem more positive.

  I held up a hand. "Hold on, let me see what I can figure out."

  The crowd surged in a step closer.

  I chuckled. "Go ahead and sit back down. This'll only take a second." That group started to settle in, but a few of the people that we had meetings scheduled with moved forward. "Don't worry, you still have your meetings. Just hang on."

  I turned to Liam. "Is there a way to do this?"

  "The first half of each meeting is your little speech. Why don't you give the speech to the room?"

  "Are you sure that I've got this little speech under control?"

  He patted me on the back. "Absolutely. It's not brain surgery. You might want to run the idea by the people you've got a meeting with, assure them that they'll get the same amount of one-on-one time as before."

  I nodded back to Liam then turned to address the gathering of parents and students that we had meetings set up with. I double-checked that everyone on our list of meetings was present. "Can you guys come over here?"

  I stood as they approached. "Here is what I am thinking. The first half of these meetings have just been me giving general information about sponsorship. Then I go over the resume and we give you feedback. I was thinking that I could give the speech to the whole room so everyone can hear it, then right afterwards I can continue with the meetings. How does that sound?"

  The mother with the reverse mullet raised a finger. "And we'll still get the same amount of one-on-one time with you and Liam?"

  It was an odd feeling to suddenly be in demand, though that had a lot more to do with Liam than with me. "Yes, in fact, we'll do ten minutes each, which is probably a few minutes more time than the original schedule."

  "Then count us in."

  The rest of the group nodded and agreed then sat back down while I addressed the room.

  "I've been giving a little presentation to people about sponsorship: what it is, expectations, things to consider, et cetera." I checked my watch. "In about five minutes I will give the speech, and anyone that wants to sit in may. I'll stand here, so if anyone wants to move..."

  I cut off when people started to move toward me. The scratching of chairs and rattling of tables drowned me out. It seemed that they more or less had the idea.

  Tiger was at the entrance of the dining room with a couple of women and gave me a wave. I walked over. "Hey, Tiger, what's up?"

  "What's up with your eye?"

  "I hit my head. Who are your friends? I'm Di." I looked among the three women and shook their hands in turn as they introduced themselves.

  "I'm just giving these lovely ladies a quick tour of the training center. They've signed up for the women-only archery classes that I'm organizing." He gave them a quick wink.

  Tiger was spearheading classes for women, taught by women in the spring. He wasn't teaching but it had been his idea, and he was passionately promoting it in the community, though giving private tours was a first.

  "You're signed up for the archery classes?" I made sure to look each lady in the eyes. They nodded back while looking around the room at all the activity. It was way more exciting right now than the average day, when the dining room only held sparse groups of employees. "You're going to have a great time. Enjoy your tour and I'll see you in class."

  Tiger steered them out of the room, a hand on the lower backs of two of the ladies.

  I shook my head at him. He was a flirt but deep down a really sweet guy.

  I walked back to the table, shaking my hands at my sides, hoping to flick off the bits of tension that were building up. Speaking one on one to kids with Liam at my side was one thing, but presenting in front of a crowd was another. I had no fears, normally, of public speaking, but usually I stuck to topics I was an expert on, not a speech that I had slapped together.

  Liam had pulled a chair over to face the table, the remaining kids we had meetings with at his sides. Not only were the people who requested information waiting anxiously, but the crowd had doubled in size. A few adults in jerseys sporting the names of stores in the state were lurking behind the chairs.

  The mother with the reverse mullet, her long bangs hiding one eye, lifted her phone and waved to get my attention. "Can I record this for us to look
at later?"

  "Uh." If I hadn't been nervous enough already, this was going to put me over the edge, the idea that it would be recorded. But who really goes back and looks at old videos anyway? "I guess so."

  I grabbed my notebook with the list of things to cover: sponsorship is not free, it's about helping a company sell products, it requires additional time commitment so parents need to be on board, watch your conduct, have a truthful resume prepared.

  I cleared my throat and waited until I had most eyes swiveled in my direction. There was no going back now.

  "Hello, I'm Di. This is a short presentation on things to consider for youth seeking archery sponsorship, but it is applicable to adults in most cases."

  I looked around the group, trying to make eye contact with a variety of people as I spoke. A few gentlemen sat in back, their arms crossed over their bellies. Reverse Mullet Mom had her phone pointed at me. Davey Jones, who had shot on my target yesterday, gave me a tiny smile when I caught her eyes. She was pale, with her shoulders rolled forward. Another father had pulled out his phone and appeared to be recording.

  I fell back on my years of presenting at computer meetings. I tried to keep the information clean and tight. I ran through the goals of sponsorship and moved on to my second point on the list. I spoke with my hands and kept my shoulders back to give off an aura of confidence as I continued to the next bulleted point.

  A few parents nodded or looked surprised then thoughtful when I pointed out the additional responsibilities on the archers and their parents. The next idea was on the need for appropriate tournament and online conduct when an archer represents a company. I was just wrapping up that point and about to address the final point on my list, a resume, when a teenage boy interrupted me.

  "But lots of archers get away with bad behavior at tournaments and online all the time, and they're successful." He flicked his head to the side, shaking the bangs out of his eyes, then smirked at a friend next to him.

  My mouth hung open for a few seconds, still mid-word.

  Liam stood and addressed the room. "That's a great question, and if Di doesn't mind, I'd like to answer it." He looked at me and waited for my reply.