Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3 (9 page)

Loggin looked over each shoulder then leaned in and lowered his voice. “The egos can be a bit crazy. I’ve got great coworkers, though.”

Mary was nodding along. “Did the Andersson employees say anything about Cash?”

“Not really.” He shook his head. “Except… you know, one of the guys said that they were steering clear of him. Said something was off. He’s dead now, so they dropped the topic pretty quick. Minx told me that you guys have been solving murders. Are you on the case again?”

I chuckled. “You’ve been talking to Minx, eh?”

“Yeah, been texting here and there.” He looked over my shoulder and nodded. “Sorry, I gotta jet and help a customer. I’ll see if I can dig up any more dirt for you two.” He trotted around us with a, “Hi, I’m Loggin. How can I help you, sir?”

***

We were late for lunch as we left the second trade show hall and headed back to the booth. There were lines of people in the food court between the second and main halls. We had a busy morning after leaving Andersson Archery. We had spent more than an hour at the first optics company, Focal Optics. We got some catalogues, tried the products, and met some of the salespeople. After that we ran into Sarah from the OIT Show, and Mary told her we would do the article on how hunting shows are made and asked if she could set up a meeting for us.

The rest of the morning had passed quickly as we took Moo for a walk outside then gave the second exhibit hall a once-over. It was mostly the newer and smaller companies. My arms were loaded down with catalogues that had been foisted on me by eager salespeople.

Something caught my attention, and I stopped.

“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 archers 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.