Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3 (7 page)

BOOK: Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3
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“Sure, he would love that.” Moo was the best dog in the whole world. He brought so much joy to others.

She came around the front desk. “I’m Becky, and I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your names. Just Moo’s.” She gave him an ear scratch and a treat.

“I’m Di, and this is Mary. How are you doing tonight?”

She blew a breath out and gave Moo the other treat in her hand. “A little tired but fine. Just fine. What can I do for you?” Moo finished his treat and nudged her hand for another. She kneeled down and held out her hands. “All gone, Moo.”

He sniffed her all over. She giggled when he stuck his nose into her neck; then he leaned on her, knocking her over.

“Easy, Moo.” I pulled back on his leash and offered her a hand. “Sorry about that. His version of a hug is to lean on you.”

“That’s so sweet. Aren’t you a good dog.” Once she stood up, Moo leaned again, and she rubbed his back. “I love dogs. You bring him by any time. He’s a great distraction from—” She gasped and covered her mouth.

“It’s okay. If you mean the murder, we already know all about it.” I tried to speak softly, with heavy notes of understanding.

Becky kept her eyes on Moo’s head. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Mary gave Becky a pat on the back. “It’s okay. We won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

Becky didn’t seem convinced. Maybe if I comforted her a bit more, she would open up. “Did you get in trouble? There’s no way it was your fault.”

Becky’s head jerked up, and she looked at me. “I know, right? But my boss wasn’t happy about the police being here or me waking him up in the middle of the night to tell him.”

“What else were you going to do? Put the body in the Dumpster out back? Of course, you had to call the police.” I smiled at her, hoping that I looked like a friendly face to commiserate with.

“Right! And I did my best to get everyone out of there quickly and keep the police investigation as quiet as possible.” She walked back behind the front desk.

Mary and I followed her, and I leaned on the counter. “You did a great job. Everyone seems to be having a great time in the bar, and no one’s mentioned it at all. Maybe it was just an unfortunate accident?”

Becky shook her head, her ponytail whipping each ear in turn. “No way. The police are absolutely sure that he was lifted over the wall and dropped onto the floor below.”

Mary leaned on the counter next to me. “Wow, how’d they know that?”

Becky shrugged. “No idea. I can’t remember what they said exactly, but I remember that they totally ruled out that he jumped or tripped or any other kind of accident.”

If she had paid better attention, we could have had a lot more facts. “But he didn’t scream, right?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t hear any screams or shouts, though I did hear when he… landed.” She cringed.

I jumped when a hand landed on my shoulder and turned to see that Liam and Orion were behind us. Liam removed his hand and chuckled. “What are you guys doing up?”

“We were giving Moo one last walk before bed but stopped to say hi to Becky.” I turned back to Becky. “It was good chatting with you.” I gave her a little wave before following Orion, Mary, and Liam out of the lobby into the courtyard of the hotel center.

Liam extended his hand for Moo’s leash. “Mom already went up to the suite. If you guys want to go up, Orion and I can take Moo outside.”

I passed the leash over. “Thanks. Just knock when he is ready for bed. I left our breakfast order on the room service menu in the kitchenette.”

I headed to the elevator then realized that Mary was trailing behind me. I stopped to let her catch up. “Whatcha thinking about?”

She shook her head and looked at me. “Oh, I was thinking about Cash being unconscious when he was thrown over the side. That’s really risky. What if he had woken up and screamed?”

“Good point. Maybe they thought he was dead already? What if they hit him and thought that throwing him off the side would cover up the evidence?” I pushed the button on the elevator. “That sounds like a spur-of-the-moment thing, a crime of passion. A fight that got out of control rather than a calculated murder.”

Mary stepped into the elevator and pressed the top floor. “Unless he was drugged and then dropped over the side. That would be planned murder.”

I nodded along. I bet the police knew. “Either way, lifting an unconscious body over the side of the wall would be pretty hard. You would either have to be pretty strong or have help.”

“Like another person?”

“I was thinking more like a forklift, pulleys, or something, but an accomplice would work, too.” We stepped into the hallway, and I lowered my voice. “The murderer or murderers were either really quick or really lucky. If someone had stepped into the hallway, they would have been caught.”

Mary pulled out the key card and unlocked the door. “If this was a planned murder, it was a pretty risky plan.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The second day of the OIT Show began much as the first had. We were running a bit late, so Mary and I pushed through the throngs of people to the Westmound booth. The Westmound-Andersson team was having a meeting first thing this morning, and Liam said he’d see if he could find something for us to do. But for now we were supposed to hang out at the table they had given us with the literature for the Westmound Center for Competitive Shooting Sports.

As we walked, I couldn’t hold back a large yawn. “We should have gone to bed earlier. I need my sleep.”

Mary nodded alongside me. “Tonight, we can go to bed early.”

“You say that now, but you’ll want to stay up and investigate again.”

“Hey now, we got some great information last night.” She patted the messenger bag at her side. “We have everything we need to know about his show right here.”

Moo yanked me to the side as he veered to the right. We had walked up to Karma, the yeti target, without me noticing. He pulled away and barked wildly.

“Hey, Moo. Easy.” I look around, embarrassed. “Shh. Shh.”

His barks transformed into whines, and he danced on the end of the leash.

Mary grabbed my arm. “Come on. Let’s just go this way.” Mary dragged me farther down the trade show floor, a different way than we’d gone before. “No point in racing over to Westmound’s when we’re just going to be sitting there again.”

“Well, I guess a small detour wouldn’t hurt.”

We ducked down an aisle at the far side of the floor and cut down another row, when Mary stopped and grabbed my arm in front of a large booth on the corner. She whispered, “It’s him.”

Mary turned her back to shield her hands from the booth then pointed back to the corner of the booth. “The bald guy over there next to the cart—he’s the one that comforted Hannah, the wife, when we found Cash’s body.”

I spotted who she meant. He was short for a man, probably about my height, but quite muscly. His head completely lacked hair. Perhaps he shaved it? His shoulders were thrown back as he talked with an older man in camouflage pants. The booth surrounding him was large and covered in camo metal objects with wheels and railings, while the back wall had a logo and name, Lex’s Hunting Solutions. A few other people stood in the booth—an exceedingly tall gal and, tucked in a corner, sitting at a table, was Hannah, Cash’s widow.

“Hark, Sherlock—a clue.” I jerked my head in Hannah’s direction and waited for Mary to catch on.

“Good observation, my dear Watson. Interesting that she’s here.”

I looked around the booth. “What are these things?”

“Hunting stuff.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “The name of the company gave me that much, Sherlock.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t see that. I forget that you aren’t familiar with hunting. Those over there are tree stands, harnesses, and ladders. In dense woods, people hunt from tree stands. The ladders help you get into the stand, and the harness keeps you from dying in the process. There are things to help you process the meat, and these look like some kind of wagon. Maybe to help you move the animal after it’s down, since they can be difficult to pack out in areas where you can’t drive cars or four wheelers. This company is listed as a sponsor of
Hunting with Cash
.”

Lex looked toward us and smiled. I nodded my head and started walking, dragging Mary alongside. After we were past the booth, I whispered at Mary, “Sorry to rush you out of there. If we stayed any longer, he was going to come and try to sell us stuff.”

“Smart. I want to investigate him a bit before we talk to him.”

We zigged and zagged through the booths until we were back at the Westmound booth. Behind our table was a brunette gal, lazily looking through the Westmound Center literature.

We approached, and Moo put his large head onto the top of the table. She jumped then laughed. “Hey, puppy.” She looked at our name tags and jumped again. “Oh, I’m in your seat. I’m so sorry. We have a meeting here in a bit, and the seats were empty.” She dusted off the chair as words tumbled out of her mouth.

I chuckled lightly. “No, no, it’s okay. Please sit. We sat there all yesterday, and if I sit any longer, I’ll go nuts.”

“Are you sure?” She edged back toward the chair.

“Yes, please. I’m Di, this is Mary, and this is Moo. We work at the Westmound Center for Competitive Shooting Sports in Wyoming.”

She shook our hands then sat down. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jillian, and over there, by the shotguns, are my husband Jack, the redhead with a beard, and our videographer, Vinny. We’re from the hunting show
Jack and Jillian Went up a Hill
.”

Mary sat next to Jillian. “Cute name for a show. You’ve a meeting here?”

“Yeah, we’re meeting with Orion in the next hour. Westmound and their companies are our primary sponsors.”

I scratched Moo’s rump. “That’s pretty rare, isn’t it?” Something said in passing this week made me think that it was rare for Orion to be involved in sponsorships.

Jillian sat back and tucked some brown hair behind an ear. “It is. They sponsor us because we have a shared vision.”

Moo pushed his rump higher in the air to get the most scratches from me that he could on his back. “Oh? Such as?”

“Our show really is about getting everyone to hunt with a focus on the end product, providing meat for your family. We have a variety of hunts on the show, many of which focus on a guest hunter. Usually every season we have a disabled vet or a first-time hunter. A couple of times we have had a father and his child come on the show. We do a lot of emphasis on safety, humane harvesting. I end each show with a recipe to make at home, and all the meat we gather is shared with the homeless and poor community in our area.” Her face was lit up with excitement, her hands gesturing wildly.

“Wow, that sounds awesome.”

“It is. It’s the most amazing experience to teach people how to provide for their family. We are really lucky to partner with Westmound. They really share our values about giving more people the opportunity to hunt. It can be a tough sell to sponsors.”

I tilted my head. “Why?”

“’Cause it’s not cool and the viewership is only about average. We’re not one of the big bulls-and-buck shows. We have solid numbers, but we are not blowing anyone out of the water. A lot of what we do is education and outreach, both on the show and off.”

Moo flipped onto my foot, exposing his belly while flattening his backpack beneath him. I crouched down to scratch his considerable chest. “I can see why Westmound partnered with you. How long have you been doing the show?”

“Gee, we just finished our seventh season. Time has flown by.”

Moo was grunting and flailing his legs about on the booth floor. A few people were snickering. I pulled him to his feet. “You’ve been around for a while, then. You probably knew Cash from
Hunting with Cash
?”

“Yes, I’ve met him.” Her tone had gone flat.

“Uh… what was he like?”

“I don’t know him at all.” She gave it in monotone and made no eye contact, instead looking at some of the literature on the table.

The conversation we had been having came to a screeching halt. I looked at Mary for help.

“Didn’t you hear he’s dead?”

“He’s what? When? What happened?” Jillian looked up, alarmed.

“Two nights ago in the hotel. He was killed,” Mary said softly.

“Oh.” Jillian covered her mouth. “I hadn’t heard. I feel awful.”

One of the conference room’s doors was ajar, and I grabbed a folding chair and sat down. “Why do you feel bad?”

She looked around then lowered her voice. “I never liked him, and now I feel terrible for not liking him. Was it an accident?”

I shook my head. “No, the police are investigating it as a homicide. What was he like?”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Homicide, oh my. I couldn’t possibly talk ill of the dead.” She shook her head sadly.

Mary looked at me and nodded, then faced Jillian. “Totally understandable, poor man. We shouldn’t speak of him. But we were thinking about writing an article about how hunting shows are made. Can you tell us about that?”

“Oh yes, what do you need to know?”

BOOK: Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3
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