Bylines & Skylines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 9) (23 page)

The man balked. “I … it was an accident. I honestly didn’t mean to run into the little one over there. I didn’t see her. She’s tiny.”

“And she’s pregnant,” Jake said, keeping his voice even. “Be careful. Keep in mind that you’re a big guy and the mask probably covers up some of your peripheral vision. You need to make sure you don’t inadvertently run over a small woman, because you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you accidentally hurt her.”

“I’m sorry about running into you,” Burleson said to Carly. “As for you … .” He glared in my direction and fell silent, making a small “wanking” motion with his hand to infuriate me.

“No one blames you for hating her,” Jake said, pointing Burleson toward the door. “Be good. I wasn’t joking about ousting you if you screw up again.”

“Trust me. I have no interest in getting in trouble. I just want to see some stars and buy some stuff.”

“Then have fun,” Jake said.

Burleson took a step toward the door and then risked a glance in my direction. “She’s going to get in trouble, right?”

“No.” I answered before Jake could. “I’m the victim.”

“She’s going to get in trouble,” Jake confirmed. “I promise.”

“Good,” Burleson said. “The other guy looked as if he’d rather kiss her than kill her. I don’t get that. She’s mean.”

“She’s definitely mean,” Jake said, smirking. He waited until Burleson vacated the office to turn to me. “Are you satisfied?”

Was he kidding? Not even close. “Um … no.”

“Good,” Jake said. “You look riled up. That’s going to make what comes next so much easier.”

“And what is that?”

“A lecture.”

Crud. I should’ve seen that coming. Crap on toast.

“
I
don’t see
how you can blame this on me.”

I was in victim mode from the start. There was no way Jake could make me accountable for any of this. Okay, I threw a cake and I technically wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with, but those were both explainable. Frankly, I blamed Carly, because I was being good before she forced me to come here and riled me up.

Jake’s patience with the populace was the stuff of legends. We’d known each other so long he had no problem letting it slip with me, though. “You don’t see how I can blame this on you? Really?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did something,” Jake countered. “Do you want to know what I heard when I was on the convention floor? I heard a crazy blonde hit a guy with a purse and then threw a cake at another guy. I knew it was you without hearing anything other than ‘blonde.’”

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It’s not funny, Avery,” Jake warned. “This is an important event. It means a lot of money for the county. That guy … the one you hit … he came all the way from Grand Rapids. We have people here from all over the state – and from a few other states, for that matter. I can’t afford for things to get out of hand.”

“Now, wait a second,” Eliot said, holding up his hand. “While I’m not thrilled she’s here because I was told she’d be participating in yoga and complaining about men, I don’t think this was technically her fault.”

“Of course you would say that,” Jake said. “You have to take her side or risk the wrath of Avery when you get home.”

“Hey, I don’t take her side just to take her side,” Eliot argued. “When she’s wrong, I call her on it. She shouldn’t have been here, but after everything that’s happened you can’t expect her to just sit there and take it when Carly was almost injured.”

“That’s right,” Carly interjected. “He threw me. Hard.”

“He did,” Lexie confirmed. “I was surprised. And, for the record, if it came to a fight, I was going to join in.”

“You always join in,” Jake said, fixing Lexie with a dark look. “Whenever Avery comes up with a scheme you join in whether you think it’s a good idea or not. The only difference between now and when we were kids is that back then you thought it was a good idea. Today, I think you knew it was a bad idea. I also think you were going to help because you’re loyal. Avery would’ve done the same for you.”

“That’s because I’m awesome,” I said.

“You’re not awesome,” Jake countered. “You’re a pain in the butt with a huge mouth who skates through life because somehow you manage to charm people despite your rather large personality defects.”

I blew out a dramatic sigh. “I’m so sorry, Sheriff Farrell. I won’t ever do it again.”

Absolutely no one in the room believed my apology.

“Try again,” Jake prodded.

“I’ll be more careful next time I do it,” I offered, adjusting tactics. “I honestly was trying to protect Carly. She’s tiny … and pregnant.”

“We have a bad situation here, Avery,” Jake said. “I have no leads on the murder. I know you already know that, so it’s not as if I’m telling you something new. We’re running out of time to solve it. If this convention breaks before the murder is solved, what do you think is going to happen?”

“I think you’ll never be able to solve it because all of the suspects will leave when they pack up their belongings and hit the road,” I answered. “I think you’ve done the exact same legwork I have and come up empty.

“I think you’ve talked to everyone and realized no one really knew Kristen Reardon,” I continued. “There were a lot of rumors, but since she had no real friends you have no facts. All you have is a dead woman who was obviously killed by someone she knows.

“Now, it could’ve been a crime of passion, or it could’ve been a crime of opportunity,” I said, warming to my topic. It always helps me to talk scenarios out in front of an audience. “If it was a crime of passion, that means she ticked off the wrong person and he reacted by strangling her. Perhaps he panicked and realized what he was doing but it was too late to stop because he would’ve gone to jail. Perhaps he enjoyed doing it.

“If it was a crime of opportunity, that means someone might have a taste for killing people,” I said. “That’s a real worry, because if someone did it and liked it, he might do it again. All of this is on top of the fact that you’re forced to police an event with thousands of people going through the building every day. You can’t keep track of guests, let alone workers, and you’re at a loss because you don’t have a suspect to watch.

“You’re in a really bad place and I’m betting you ran background checks on all the workers,” I continued. “I did the same yesterday. Other than a few petty crimes – like drunken driving, shoplifting, online fraud and a few odd flashing incidents for some guy who enjoys dressing as a clown – no one here has a criminal record. You have absolutely no one to focus on and you’re losing time to find the focus you desperately need. I get it.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open. “I … you should be a cop. I swear. Your mind works like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“How did you figure all of that out?” Carly asked.

“That’s what I do,” I replied. “We’re absolutely nowhere. That’s why Jake isn’t holding daily news updates. This was a grisly murder and the public would generally be up in arms, but since it’s an outsider no one seems to care.

“The other problem you have is that the victim’s family lives out of state,” I continued. “Yeah, I checked that, too. You can only question family members over the phone. I left a message and didn’t hear back. I also called the funeral home. It’s shipping the body out because no family is coming here to claim her.”

“You didn’t tell me that part,” Eliot said, his eyes darkening. “You told me about using my computer to run background checks – I changed my password, by the way – but you left the rest of it out.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I came up empty. As for the password, well, I’m sure it will be equally hard to crack. I particularly liked that you used my name as part of it this last time. It made me feel like a real girl for a few minutes. My heart warmed and everything.”

Eliot made a face. “I … you suck.”

“You used her name as a password?” Jake smirked. “You guys are so … schmaltzy.”

“I thought it was sweet,” I said. “I don’t use his name for a password, though. I don’t want to be a stereotype.”

“No, you use Solo123,” Eliot shot back. “Yeah. I know how to get on your computer, too. I don’t do it out of respect, though.”

Crud. Now I was going to have to change it. “Well, that’s neither here nor there … .”

“I’ll know the next one is going to be Jabba456, too,” Eliot said.

Son of a … . “We’re getting off course,” I gritted out. “There’s a killer here and we all know it. We’re running out of time to solve this. I didn’t mean to cause a scene, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave the convention and not keep interviewing the workers. We don’t have time for that.”

“I could take the passes away,” Eliot threatened.

“You won’t, though,” Jake said. “I hate to admit it because … well, it makes me look weak … but we need her here asking questions. She sparked interest the other day because she asked someone the right question. We need her to do it again.”

Eliot was incensed. “You want to use my girlfriend as bait?”

Jake shook his head. “I want to set her loose on the crowd and watch her like a hawk.”

Eliot relaxed, if only marginally. “I … okay. I want freedom to follow her, though.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jake said. “She needs to be watched and she’s a handful, so that’s falling on you. I think it’s the best thing for everyone.”

Wait … did I hear them correctly? “Are you really encouraging me to do whatever I want to do?”

“Within reason,” Jake cautioned. “Do what comes naturally … but take a step back if you sense things getting out of hand.”

Oh, wow, and just like that my happy week was back. “Great. When do we start?”

Jake smiled. “You’re on the clock.”

L
EXIE
and Carly
wanted to stay and play, but that’s where Jake put his foot down. It was one thing to watch me be obnoxious. It was quite another to keep an eye on three crazy women – even if they did have a fearless leader.

Jake purchased another funnel cake and loaded them up in Lexie’s car before unleashing me on the unknowing convention populace. But now that I was free to do as I wished I had no idea where to direct my efforts.

More out of curiosity than anything, I headed toward the horror movie section. If I had to work on a Saturday – a job for which I probably wouldn’t get paid unless I came up with something worth writing – I figured I might as well shop while I was at it.

I picked a dark display with a lot of handmade candles – some shaped like skeletons, others like monsters – and kept my ear to the ground as the two guys behind the counter chatted. They wore heavy makeup – seriously, liquid eyeliner should’ve been outlawed decades ago – and seemed oblivious to my presence. I couldn’t be sure, but I had the distinct impression they were gay. No, my ego is not huge and I’m not just thinking it because they refused to check me out. I honestly think that.

“I think it’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“They found Kristen’s body days ago, but no one has mentioned it since,” the first guy said. “Why aren’t they giving us updates? How was she killed? Was it an accident?”

I knit my eyebrows as I realized the workers were even more in the dark than the cops on this one. Frankly, that was flabbergasting. “I know how she died,” I offered, drawing attention from the dark minions of … whatever bad horror movie inspired them to do that to their faces.

“You know what we’re talking about?” The second man arched an eyebrow, causing the ring lodged through his pale skin to glint under the muted light. “How do you know what we’re talking about?”

I decided the best way to approach this was brutal honesty. It will work. Trust me. “Because I was eavesdropping,” I replied. “I’m Avery Shaw. I’m a reporter with The Monitor. The cops are coming up empty on this one. That’s why I was listening to you guys and hoping to hear something of interest.”

Instead of being annoyed, the first guy grinned, revealing an adorable dimple. He would’ve been cute if someone hosed him down, made him eat a cheeseburger and removed half of the jewelry from his face. “I like that you just admitted that,” he said. “I’m Damien.”

Right. His mother named him after the bad seed from
The Omen
and he just happened to end up working in the horror section of a comic book convention. Did he think I was stupid? “Damien?”

“That’s my stage name, but it’s the only one I go by,” he conceded, smirking. “This is Chucky.”

“Ooh, after the doll?” That made sense given the hints of red in the other man’s hair.

“No, my parents named me Charles Anderson Junior.”

“Oh, well, that’s cool, too,” I lied. Seriously, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand convention folk. They’re just as weird as circus folk. Er, at least that’s what I learned from watching that season of
American Horror Story
set in a circus freak show. Sadly, I have no practical knowledge.

“So, how did she die?” Damien asked.

“What?”

“Kristen,” he prodded. “How did she die? You said you knew.”

“Oh, that,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was looking or listening before continuing. “Someone tried to strangle her and when that didn’t work – or didn’t work fast enough – they stabbed her through the throat.”

Damien’s eyes widened. “For real?”

I nodded. “The cops say it was a hunting knife, but they’re not sure which kind,” I said. “Because you guys are full of horror movie knives, they have a lot to sift through.”

“Wow,” Damien said. “That seems like such a hard way to go. I thought everyone was exaggerating when they said she was murdered. I thought maybe she slipped and fell or something and everyone filled in the other gaps themselves.”

“No, she was murdered,” I said, an idea forming. “My boyfriend is helping with security here and we’re actually the ones who found her.”

“No way,” Chucky said, leaning forward. “For real?”

“For real,” I confirmed. “I didn’t realize what I was looking at when I first saw her. I didn’t realize she was dead. The closer we got, though, well … it was obvious.”

“So you really saw her, huh?” Damien rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t even know what to think about that. Was it … gross?”

No grosser than the overabundance of pasty makeup on his face. “I didn’t look too closely,” I replied. “What can you tell me about her?”

I worried Damien and Chucky would balk at the question, but apparently they expected it.

“She was nice, but kind of shy,” Damien replied. “She got a bad rap around here because people thought she was snooty. She wasn’t snooty. She just didn’t know people and had a hard time talking to strangers. Once you got to know her, she was great.”

“How well did you know her?”

“Well enough that we talked every few days,” Damien replied. “She kept to herself. Unlike most everyone else here, she didn’t have grand visions of moving onward and upward. She wasn’t using this as a stepping stone to a career. This was just a way to make money.”

“Why did she need money?”

“Why does anyone need money?” Chucky challenged. “She wanted her own place and to settle down when she saved up enough and found another job. She was happy to keep her nose out of other people’s business and do the work assigned to her. That’s why we liked her.”

“I would imagine that most everyone who comes here thinks they’re going to be one of the celebrity guests one day,” I said. “You’re saying Kristen wasn’t like that.”

“She wasn’t like that at all,” Damien said. “She didn’t care about being famous. She only cared about surviving. She wasn’t even interested in dating or finding a boyfriend until we talked her into it a few months back. She didn’t even get a chance to enjoy it.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “So … she was straight?”