Death at the Summit (4 page)

The whole section was empty for now. Hopefully, over time, it would become an area bustling with offices and programs. I walked through the empty room and out another door in the far end of the hallway, then I turned right and headed down toward the bathrooms.

Checking that each door was locked, I passed a future lounge. A bank of windows looked into the hallway, and another bank of windows on the far wall looked out into Wyoming winter. I was surprised to see that snow was falling steadily from a gray sky.

The weather report said a storm was coming to Wyoming, but they had thought it would swing much farther north. Perhaps not. I checked that the doorway between this hall and the main hallway was locked. There was an offshoot to the right, and I turned down the short hall. There were three large bathrooms. I unlocked them and checked that they were clean and that the light worked.

These bathrooms were built to accommodate athletes in wheelchairs, families with children, or crowds at times like this when more bathrooms were needed.

The only other room was a storage room where the center was storing the couches. I checked that the door was locked, finishing up everything that Jess requested, as I turned back into the main hallway. In the far-upper corner was the recently installed video surveillance camera. I gave it a friendly wave even though I knew no one was watching. All the footage was automatically uploaded to a cloud server. It was a bit like closing the barn door after the horses were out, but it would be stupid not to install surveillance after the murder. Hopefully, we would never need it.

When I stepped back into long range, Orion was on a small stage up front, talking to everyone as they crowded around.

CHAPTER THREE

I snuck over to Mary, dragging Moo behind me as he strained to say hi to all the people. Orion was quite visible from my table. I leaned in close to Mary. “What did I miss?”

“He’s trying to convince them to get excited about the idea of advertising to new demographics. It might be a hard sell.”

I pulled Moo in close for scratches. “What does ‘new demographics’ mean?”

“Someone other than white males.”

I mouthed, “Oh,” and tuned into Orion’s speech.

“…love more than anything else on earth? That’s right—other people passionate about the shooting sports. So let’s bring more people, and their money, into our industry.”

A hardy chuckle and a round of applause went up at the word
money
. Orion had a flare for working the room.

“Let me give you an example of one project. The fastest growing demographic in shooting sports is women. We’re seeing huge increases across the board except the numbers aren’t growing as fast in archery. The Westmound Center is looking to launch a new campaign soon to help introduce more women in archery. Are Di and Mary around here somewhere?”

Mary leaped out of her seat and started waving until she caught Orion’s eye. Once he saw us, he waved and motioned for us to stand up. Heads started turning.

“Mary and Di are employees of the center and archers. Many of you may already know Bloody Mary from her aggressive shooting style that dominated youth archery. As she transitions into adult archery, she will work with Westmound to show the public her training schedule, how she picks out equipment and anything else on her mind. Di, on the other hand, used to be an archer in……help me out, Di.”

I lifted my voice to carry over the crowd. “End of high school and all through college.”

“Right. But now she is coming back into the sport as an adult. She is very much in line with what we see from competitive female archers: educated, competitive women with highly demanding jobs. Who wouldn’t want that kind of customer?”

A man in the crowd yelled out, “Customer? That’s the kind of gal I want to marry,” to a boom of laughter.

I leaned over Mary. “Is that true?”

“It’s pretty true. We have a lot of moms and archery coaches that compete but at my last tournament, I shot on a target with three lawyers. On the right were three engineers, and on the left was a surgeon.”

I had no idea. I focused back on Orion, hoping that I hadn’t missed much. “…an example of an authentic way to promote the sport. But we have two more days to listen to me talk. For now, let’s go shoot!”

The crowd gave a cheer and drifted back across the range to start the process of having fun.

Orion pushed through the crowd to our table.

“I hope you didn’t mind me putting you on the spot,” he said.

We shook our heads, and I added, “Not at all.”

“Good, I think it sounds like a great idea.” He shook a few hands as people walked by, but he didn’t attempt to leave our table.

“It’s hardly that unique,” I said.

“For archery, it is. Most of these companies are using the same marketing strategy they have had for the past several decades. I’m trying to get them excited about new opportunities. I have my first meeting in a few minutes, but we’ll talk about your ideas soon.” He gave us a dazzling smile before leaving.

Mouse and Tiger passed Orion, who introduced himself, and approached the table. Mouse sat next to Moo on his bed and petted him.

“Uh, you okay down there? I can get you a chair.” I didn’t want to be a bad host.

“It’s okay; I love dogs.” She cooed softly to Moo, speaking quietly. His eyes rolled back in his head, his tongue lolled out, and he flopped across her lap.

Tiger stared intently at the MacSights booth a few dozen yards away. One panel of the display was named Kandi-covered, with a stunning bottle blonde and more bosoms than could possibly have been bestowed by genetics alone. The image was twice the size of real life, and her cleavage looked big enough to sleep in. Nestled between the breasts was a tiny tattoo of a pink-and-white lollypop, and a tagline on the wall proclaimed, “Everything is better when it’s Kandi-covered.” A variety of archery equipment in bright pink surrounded the perimeter. Underneath was
Kandi
scrawled in a flowing signature with a heart dotting the
i
. A bouncy blonde matching the sign stood in the booth, her cleavage overflowing, in weather-inappropriate shorts that skimmed her butt cheeks.

Tiger drifted away from the table. “How about if I check if anyone needs anything?”

We watched him approach the blonde, who squealed and threw a hug around his neck. He closed his eyes, and a smile overtook his face as she bounced against him.

Mary huffed beside me. “Ugh, I can’t believe she is dressed like that.”

Being older than Mary, I wanted to set a mature example. “It really isn’t our business how she dresses.”

“So you would dress that way?”

“Uh no. What does the back of her shirt say?” I leaned over the table hoping that being a foot closer would help me read it. “It’s not a party until you take Kandi and liquor. Ewww.”

Mary leaned back in her seat. “I don’t get why it’s gross.”

“It’s a pun, liquor and ‘lick her.’ She is saying people should lick her. Nevermind” I didn’t want to get into a drawn-out discussion critiquing another person’s looks, even if she was tacky.

“MacSights is a pretty popular brand, though they don’t make recurve sights, only compound ones. I didn’t realize they were bought out by Westmound.”

A gruff voice interrupted our conversation. “I see that the Westmound Center has a thing for hiring bunch of chicks.”

The speaker was a man holding a camera and standing next to a large tripod. He had an aggressively masculine face that overshot handsome and landed in severe. He probably lived in the gym. In theory, that should have made him fit, but instead, it repelled me. Combined with his opening line, I was finding him less than attractive.

He stood there, smiling down at us. “Hey, Mary, good to see you are still around. Do you still write those little articles?”

Mary bristled next to me and snapped back, “They aren’t ‘little articles.’ They’re for the leading online archery publication in the world. I don’t write them as often as I used to since I started college.”

He held his hands up. “Don’t get so emotional; I was only asking. No one reads anymore, so I wasn’t sure. If you ever have any questions about how real journalism is done now, just let me know.”

Mary pursed her mouth.

Thinking things might get out of hand, I shoved my verbal foot in the door. “Hi, I’m Di. And you are?” I extended my hand.

He grabbed my hand and attempted to crush my fingers in his grip. “I’m Cold of Cold Hard Facts, the leader in Archery video journalism. I’m sure you know my work.”

I politely nodded and did my best to retrieve my hand without tearing it out of his grasp. “What can we do for you?”

Cold moved the tripod in front of the table and started to attach the camera on top. “I need to get a quick summary for the video I am doing on the Westmound Summit.” Pulling a microphone out of his back pocket, he handed it to me. “Just give me a second to get set up. Why don’t you girls figure out what you are going to say?” He looked closely at my face then over at Mary with a grimace. “You might want to put on some lipstick or makeup.”

I turned to Mary with my best can-you-believe-this-guy look, but she was glaring at him already. Suddenly, her jaw dropped, and she burst out of her chair. “Holy schnikeys!”

I turned in the direction she was staring to see that Minx was in the MacSights booth, having a heated argument with Kandi. Their voices carried but were not clear enough to make out. Indy and Tony stood behind Minx, watching Kandi and Minx as they yelled back and forth.

Suddenly, Kandi leaned forward and shoved Minx hard. Minx stumbled backward. I sucked in my breath but before I could move Minx lifted an arm and with the full force of her body slapped Kandi. The room went quiet a second before the crack of skin on skin rang out clearly. Kandi’s whole body shuddered. In the stillness, two more voices rose in conflict. A large man with a pale, sweaty face was poking his finger into the chest of a thinner man. Before I could see much more, the crowd descended and broke them apart.

Orion and Jess pulled about a dozen people from the room. As they left the range, conversations exploded all around us.

“I got that on camera.” Cold pushed buttons on the side of his camera.

I swung back to look at Cold and felt uneasy. He seemed far too pleased and smug.

“Give me the memory card.” I extended my hand, palm up.

His head turned to me. “No way.”

“According to your contract, all footage shot on the premise of the Westmound Center belongs to Westmound. So hand it over.”

Somewhere during those daydreaming meetings, I had managed to capture this single fact. Jess had mentioned that she had heard some unsavory rumors about Cold. Liam had countered that they had a great contract written, and he was willing to give him one last chance.

“She’s right.” I didn’t even have to turn around to know the Liam had come up behind me.

Cold looked at me then Liam. He took the memory card out of the camera, slammed it down on the table, then grabbed his camera and left. I slipped it into my pocket and turned to Liam.

“Thanks for the backup. He caught that whole fight on camera and seems a bit too smug about it. That is not the kinda thing we want all over the Internet.”

“Smart. Anything else?”

When I shook my head, Liam left.

Turning back to Mary, I asked, “Is it always this exciting? Should we get some riot gear?”

“That was crazy. I was right there. I am pretty sure Minx could have taken Kandi, but it was really close.” Indy was sitting on the other side of Moo. “You know, my dad dated both of them.”

“So did my dad,” said a male voice from behind me.

A guy in his twenties had come up to the table and joined the conversation. He half turned to hook his thumb over his shoulder at the MacSights booth. He was wearing jeans with the back pockets covered in rhinestones and metal rivets. They were held up by a leather belt with a belt buckle bigger than my hand.

“And who is your dad?”

“Mac of MacSights. Big guy. Married to Kandi. You can call me M.C., marketing director of MacSights.”

Introductions went around the group while he sat on the corner of the table. He seemed to be around Kandi’s age if her promotional picture on the panel was anything to go by. “Kandi’s your step-mom?”

He laughed. “She would have a fit if you called her that.”

I thought about the two men fighting after Minx had hit Kandi—the bigger one was wearing the same red polo that M.C. had on. “Was your dad the gentleman in the fight? What was that about?”

“Ya, that was my dad. Who knows what started it this time? He is a racist, sexist bigot and isn’t scared to share it.”

We all exchanged looks. I was thrown off by his casual attitude. “Is that a joke or…?”

He laughed. “It’s okay. He pretty much hates everyone equally, and they hate him.”

The large-set man from the earlier fight approached our table. As he drew close, I saw that the skin on his face hung loosely, as though he had recently lost a lot of weight. His pale, moist skin was even more unsettling up close. His pallor was sickly. Dark circles under his eyes sunk into the sockets under his eyes as he mopped at his face with a handkerchief. He looked at Mary and bellowed, “Are you Di?”