Part 7 (2/2)

See, when a person enters a tray of b.u.t.tons in a contest, that tray needs to be cataloged and put into the box with the other trays in that category. And the categories... Well, in a show as big as this one, there were dozens of categories and hundreds of b.u.t.ton collectors vying for first, second, and third place in each one. Our teams of judges would be looking at pewter b.u.t.tons and gla.s.s b.u.t.tons and b.u.t.tons with birds on them and b.u.t.tons that featured pictures of women and flowers and...

Suffice it to say that it was a huge job, and it took teams of dedicated volunteers to make it all happen.

Helen, of course, was the most dedicated of them all, and she had plenty of help from the most dedicated of our members, including Gloria Winston. I was glad. Gloria might be a tad bluff, but she was thorough and well respected. She was also always levelheaded and objective. Those were two of the most important a.s.sets for any judge.

Just as the thought occurred, I watched as the door to the conference room swung open, and Helen marched in along with Gloria and the volunteers, who would do a final count of the trays and make sure all the paperwork that went with them was checked and rechecked.

”I'm so sorry.” The words were out of my mouth before she was even close. ”I forgot.”

”About the b.u.t.ton compet.i.tion?” I couldn't blame Helen for sounding so incredulous. Or for giving her fellow volunteers a look that pretty much came right out and said she was hearing it, but she wasn't believing it. There was a time Josie Giancola never would have let anything get between her and a b.u.t.ton compet.i.tion. Of course, that was the time before murder entered her life.

”I know. I know.” Because Helen hadn't moved, I stepped forward and took the pile of scoring sheets she was carrying out of her hands. Talk about symbolism! I guess I was doing what I could to lighten her load. ”It's just that-”

”You were busy with other things. Of course.”

Leave it to Helen to be understanding. Even when I didn't deserve it.

”I got sidetracked.” Because I was too embarra.s.sed to admit my shortcomings to Helen, my mentor and my friend, I glanced around at the other volunteers, all women and all of whom looked just as disappointed as Helen did. In fact, Gloria was so puckered, she looked as if she'd just sucked on a lemon. ”I'm here now. And everything is organized, and-”

”That's because I was here at six this morning.” Helen didn't say this like it was any big deal; she was just reporting the facts. Her chin came up a fraction of an inch, and her cheeks had two bright spots of color in them the same shade as the pink sweater she was wearing with neat khakis and cute little loafers that had b.u.t.tons slipped into the slot on the front where some people put pennies. ”I knew you'd be distracted, Josie. You were bound to be, with all that happened last night. I mean, really, how can something like that not affect your performance here at the conference? Even the chair of an event as important as this can't keep that many b.a.l.l.s in the air.”

”But she should be able to. I should be able to.” Another glance around by way of apology. ”I'm here now and-”

My cell phone rang.

I held up one finger as a way of excusing myself and saying I'd be right back, turned my back on the woefully wronged committee, and crossed to a quiet corner of the room.

”Hey.”

”Hi, Nevin.”

”I'm up in Thad Wyant's room. I thought maybe you'd want to come up and have a look around.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the waiting committee. ”I would. I can. But-”

”There's a bunch of b.u.t.ton stuff up here.” I could tell by the way his voice faded that Nev was taking a look around the room. ”I could use your help. You know, to explain what all this stuff is and what it's for.”

”Are there...” I could barely get the words out from behind the sudden ball of emotion that blocked my throat. ”Have you found the Geronimo b.u.t.ton?”

”Got me!” Nev didn't chuckle often, which made the sound all the more startling. ”That's why I need your help up here, Josie. You're the expert.”

I was.

And I was also the chair of a conference that was quickly spinning out of control.

I clicked off the call and crossed the room. Helen met me halfway.

”Don't even say it.” She patted my arm. ”I can tell by that look in your eyes. You're on a mission.”

I grimaced. ”The police need my help, and-”

”Of course they do, dear. You're smart and you're knowledgeable and-”

”And the judging is going to start soon.”

”We've got everything under control.” Helen's cadre of volunteers had followed at a discreet distance. When she looked over her shoulder, they nodded in unison. ”See? No problemo.” Helen gave me a nudge toward the door. ”Go do what you need to do; I've got everything under control.”

She did. And I was grateful.

Which explains why in the elevator on the way up to Thad Wyant's suite, I called down to the gift shop and had a dozen roses sent to Helen's room.

Chapter Eight.

”DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING.”

They were the first words out of Nev's mouth when I walked into Thad's suite, and I understood the wisdom of keeping my hands to myself, but really, it was too bad. He hadn't been kidding the night before when he said he had to get back to the station and work on the case. He was wearing the same khaki suit and that same G.o.d-awful tie. The good news was that he apparently kept a clean s.h.i.+rt at the station; the blue Oxford cloth s.h.i.+rt had been replaced by one in a shade of beige just this side of oatmeal. With his fair skin, light eyes, and monochromatic outfit, Nev looked worn out, and my fingers itched to smooth away his wrinkles. It would have done nothing to relieve the bags under his eyes, but it would have played into my irresistible impulse for neatness.

A tendency apparently not shared by Thad Wyant. Unless...

”The room was ransacked?” I asked, and at the same time, I glanced around in horror at the clothing tossed over chairs and the couch, the empty beer bottles on the credenza against the far wall, and what had been the contents of the welcome bag we gave conference attendees spilled half on the dining table, half on the floor.

”Hard to say.” Nev had been talking to a crime-scene tech just as I walked in, and he finished up with the woman, and she went off to check out the bedroom. That taken care of, he stepped toward me. ”It was like this when we got here last night to seal the room and get started on the investigation, but I don't know...” He looked around, too, and I guess Nev and I had one more thing in common than just murder, because he s.h.i.+vered at the sight of the chaos. ”Maybe somebody was in here looking for something, or maybe our Mr. Wyant was just a plain old garden-variety slob.”

”It actually wouldn't surprise me.” I carefully stepped between the couple days' worth of newspapers scattered across the carpet and a chair where a piece of Thad's luggage was opened and half unpacked. ”It's hard to believe that a man who was so precise in his work could be so...” Words failed me, and I guess Nev understood because he shook his head in sympathy.

I had no doubt he was going to get right down to business. After all, that's why Nev had asked me to meet him up in the suite the conference was providing for Thad. That thought hit me like a ton of bricks, and I realized there was one more thing Nev and I had in common. I was thinking business, too.

”Will we have to keep paying?” The question popped out before I could edit it, and I didn't want to sound cheap, but...”We were covering his expenses,” I explained. ”And if Thad is checked out...”

”Yeah, permanently.” Dark humor. No doubt, it was one of the things that kept cops sane in the face of the evil and stupidity they encountered every day. ”I think you're off the hook. Unless you'd like to move Kaz in here.”

Impossible, since Thad's room was considered important to the investigation, and no way they'd let someone else stay there and mess up whatever evidence might exist there, so I knew Nev was joking.

Unless he wasn't.

I gave Nev a careful once-over, wondering as I did what was going on behind that calm, oatmeal exterior, and I guess I had at least a bit of the answer when he broke off eye contact.

”You knew Kaz was waiting in the hallway for me last night,” I said.

Nev gave me a lopsided grin. ”It's kind of hard to miss a guy trying to look inconspicuous behind a potted palm.”

”I did.”

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