A Study In Murder

?John reached into the plastic bin and brought out a card.

?I took it with a smile. “Thanks so much.”

?“No problem,” John admitted, and went back to putting out items for sale. “Visit us anytime. We’re out in New Jersey.”

?“I see.” I glanced at the card. “In Somerville. How far is that?”

?“‘Bout an hour.”

?“Thanks,” Mark said, and gave a wave as we strolled away.

?I could feel him watching me. I didn’t want to meet his eyes and start the randy roller coaster going again. Jeez, I had him in my hotel room, and what did I do? I wimped out and changed in the bathroom. If I had started to undress in front of him, that might have gotten a better reaction.

?Then again, I all but offered myself to him at his bedroom door, and that didn’t get a rise out of him. I guess when it finally became time to take this to the next level, I would have to be the one to do it.

?I was at the point where I was ready to club him and drag him off, if that would work.

?I drove my lusty thoughts away and tried to focus on the case.

?“You okay?” he asked.

?I started, embarrassed that once again I had fallen into wanton meanderings. “Yes, sure, sorry.”

?“Where are we going?”

?I tightened my mouth to a firm line. “To find Charles Nederlander.”

?We walked into the lobby. The welcome booths were getting quite busy at this point. People were stuck in lines, carrying suitcases, computer bags, and backpacks.

?A few people milled around in costume, but I was sure the number would increase as the evening unfolded. We wended our way past the Benedict Cumberbatch lookalikes, guys in deerstalker hats, and even one fellow dressed like Peter Falk in Columbo.

?Mark hurried to keep up, as I have quite a long stride. We moved past the elevator banks and down a long hallway to the other side of the building where the meeting rooms were filling with people for the lectures and panels of the day.

?Ahead of us down the hall, I could see Charles Nederlander.

?He stood in the doorway of a meeting room, and I heard the voice of a lecturer who sounded like Winsley Cunningham.

?As we approached, he blanched and began to close the door, so people in the meeting wouldn’t hear us.

?“Sheryl,” he said quietly but enthusiastically. “So glad to see that the police are not holding you. What a terrible situation—”

?“Can it, Charles,” I told him.

?Charles backed up and looked at me with a deer-in-the-headlight stare.

?I drew close and stabbed his chest with my index finger. “Why did you buy a pipe from the YE OLDE MYSTERIOUS TOBACCO booth?”

?“Sheryl, I collect a few odds and ends—”

?“But why the same one as Mark?”

?He hesitated to collect his thoughts. “Well, he used it at his lecture, and I thought it was quite a fine specimen. Really, Sheryl, I don’t know what I’ve done to make you exhibit this kind of behavior—”

?“There are a few other things that don’t add up,” I went on. “Candy was shot—”

?This made his color fade a little more. “Yes, a tragedy and right here at the hotel—”

?“The police think Mark did it.”