“You need to see this, Josie, before anyone else does.”
I didn’t ask what she was talking about. But then, Helen didn’t really give me a chance. She hurried around the perimeter of the lobby so quickly that I had to scurry to keep up. She didn’t stop until we were right outside the elevators, and by then, she didn’t have to say a word. I saw exactly what she was talking about.
It was the picture of Thad, the one I’d seen just a little while before, when I got off the elevator.
Only it didn’t look like it had then. But then, that was because someone had taken a sharp object to the poster and gouged out Thad’s eyes.
Chapter Four
O PENING CEREMONY, AND IT WENT OFF WITHOUT A HITCH . Well, except for the microphone that was working right before we started and somehow cut out just as I was giving my opening remarks.
Scrimshaw panel, and that went well, too—aside from the fact that the dozen antique whalebone buttons I’d brought from the shop for show-and-tell got misplaced. Not to worry. The buttons were located, but not until after the panel was over. Losing five hundred dollars in inventory before lunch is not my idea of a good time. Especially when the video company we’d hired to record each session so we could make the DVDs available to our membership had cameras rolling while I tried to bluff my way through a half-baked explanation of why my visual aids weren’t there.
And then there was that lunch—the rubber-button luncheon, to be exact.
That went fine.
Really.
Except that the hotel catering manager insisted I’d called him the week before and cancelled the salads. Believe me when I say I had not. Thank goodness Helen jumped to the forefront and agreed to go over the menus for the rest of the conference with him very carefully.
With all that going on, I didn’t have a moment to myself, so it wasn’t until after lunch that I was able to do a quick sweep to check out the rest of the Thad Wyant posters we’d placed around the hotel. On one, someone had drawn a thick, black mustache under Thad’s too-big nose. On another, there was a trembling X scratched over his heart. Three more posters matched the first Helen had found, with Thad’s eyes gouged out.
Doing my best to look inconspicuous and hoping no one noticed either the vandalized photos or me getting rid of them, I took down each of the posters, folded them in half, and tucked them under my arm.
Good thing, too, because when I finished with the last one and turned to head toward the hotel’s security office with them, Daryl Tucker was right behind me.
“Sorry.” He jumped back, which was a good thing because when I spun around, we were practically nose to nose. It was the first I noticed that his eyes were hazel. He was wearing a green shirt the same color as the glint in his eyes. “I saw you standing over here and I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the scrimshaw panel this morning and…” Behind those thick glasses, his eyes flickered from my face to my arm. “You’re taking down posters. Do you need some help?”
Sure, I was a theater major back in college, but I’d never done very well in my acting classes. I excelled at all the behind-the-scenes stuff, like costuming. Costumes. Buttons.To me, they were a natural go-together. But acting? Pretending I was something and someone I was not went against my nature.
Which made it all the more remarkable that I was able to play it cool, like nothing unusual was going on and finding those pictures of Thad with his eyes stabbed out didn’t give me the royal creeps. “That’s so kind of you, Daryl. But I’m fine. Really.”
“He’s not cancelling, is he?” I didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. When he glanced toward the posters under my arm, Daryl’s left eye twitched. “There are a lot of people here who are counting on hearing Mr. Wyant speak. They’d be really disappointed if he didn’t show up.”
“Oh, he’ll be here.” My voice was
I didn’t ask what she was talking about. But then, Helen didn’t really give me a chance. She hurried around the perimeter of the lobby so quickly that I had to scurry to keep up. She didn’t stop until we were right outside the elevators, and by then, she didn’t have to say a word. I saw exactly what she was talking about.
It was the picture of Thad, the one I’d seen just a little while before, when I got off the elevator.
Only it didn’t look like it had then. But then, that was because someone had taken a sharp object to the poster and gouged out Thad’s eyes.
Chapter Four
O PENING CEREMONY, AND IT WENT OFF WITHOUT A HITCH . Well, except for the microphone that was working right before we started and somehow cut out just as I was giving my opening remarks.
Scrimshaw panel, and that went well, too—aside from the fact that the dozen antique whalebone buttons I’d brought from the shop for show-and-tell got misplaced. Not to worry. The buttons were located, but not until after the panel was over. Losing five hundred dollars in inventory before lunch is not my idea of a good time. Especially when the video company we’d hired to record each session so we could make the DVDs available to our membership had cameras rolling while I tried to bluff my way through a half-baked explanation of why my visual aids weren’t there.
And then there was that lunch—the rubber-button luncheon, to be exact.
That went fine.
Really.
Except that the hotel catering manager insisted I’d called him the week before and cancelled the salads. Believe me when I say I had not. Thank goodness Helen jumped to the forefront and agreed to go over the menus for the rest of the conference with him very carefully.
With all that going on, I didn’t have a moment to myself, so it wasn’t until after lunch that I was able to do a quick sweep to check out the rest of the Thad Wyant posters we’d placed around the hotel. On one, someone had drawn a thick, black mustache under Thad’s too-big nose. On another, there was a trembling X scratched over his heart. Three more posters matched the first Helen had found, with Thad’s eyes gouged out.
Doing my best to look inconspicuous and hoping no one noticed either the vandalized photos or me getting rid of them, I took down each of the posters, folded them in half, and tucked them under my arm.
Good thing, too, because when I finished with the last one and turned to head toward the hotel’s security office with them, Daryl Tucker was right behind me.
“Sorry.” He jumped back, which was a good thing because when I spun around, we were practically nose to nose. It was the first I noticed that his eyes were hazel. He was wearing a green shirt the same color as the glint in his eyes. “I saw you standing over here and I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the scrimshaw panel this morning and…” Behind those thick glasses, his eyes flickered from my face to my arm. “You’re taking down posters. Do you need some help?”
Sure, I was a theater major back in college, but I’d never done very well in my acting classes. I excelled at all the behind-the-scenes stuff, like costuming. Costumes. Buttons.To me, they were a natural go-together. But acting? Pretending I was something and someone I was not went against my nature.
Which made it all the more remarkable that I was able to play it cool, like nothing unusual was going on and finding those pictures of Thad with his eyes stabbed out didn’t give me the royal creeps. “That’s so kind of you, Daryl. But I’m fine. Really.”
“He’s not cancelling, is he?” I didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. When he glanced toward the posters under my arm, Daryl’s left eye twitched. “There are a lot of people here who are counting on hearing Mr. Wyant speak. They’d be really disappointed if he didn’t show up.”
“Oh, he’ll be here.” My voice was
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