Hot Button (6 page)

“He’s as smart as a whip.” A woman walking by patted Kaz’s arm.

“And as cute as a button!” her companion said, and laughed.

“See?” Once they were gone, Kaz turned up the wattage on his smile and aimed it full at me. “I’m indispensable.”

“But why?” I was tempted to throw my hands in the air and raise my voice while I was at it. Maybe then I could get through to Kaz. I controlled myself, but only because we were within feet of the registration table, and the area was abuzz with eager conference-goers. After the debacle onboard the boat the night before, I didn’t need another
scene. Especially one that featured me and my ex duking it out in front of button collectors from all over the world.

I grabbed onto the sleeve of Kaz’s blue blazer and dragged him further down the corridor, where things were quieter.

“You own a blue blazer?” When I realized what I was doing, I dropped my hand as if the cloth were on fire and looked over Kaz’s outfit: blue blazer with shiny brass buttons, white Oxford cloth shirt, khakis. “You’ve never owned a blue blazer in your life. And khakis?” I had a rule about not getting within touching distance of Kaz’s bare flesh, but I figured desperate times, desperate measures, and all that. I pressed a hand to his forehead. No fever.

“What’s going on, Kaz?” I asked. “What are you up to and why aren’t you working down at the port and why are you here?”

“Apparently, to help.” When a group of elderly women walked by, grinned, and waved at him, Kaz waved back and called each and every one of them by their first names. “A conference chair can never have too many dedicated volunteers to do her bidding.”

“Apparently, this one can.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped back, my weight against one foot. I’d hoped for intimidating.

Kaz’s smile never wavered. “Hey, I took some vacation time. Because I figured this was a big deal for you and you could use the extra help. Now, there is something you can do for me. You know, to show your appreciation.”

“I knew it.” The words popped out, along with a whoop that pretty much said
I knew you were up to something, buster, the moment you showed up at the airport.
When I realized how loud both had come out, I clamped one hand over my mouth, grabbed Kaz’s sleeve, scooted a few feet
further down the corridor toward the room where the vendors were set up, and hissed, “I knew it.”

Kaz was less than repentant. “It’s nothing like that!”

“Like what?”

“Like whatever you think it is. I was just thinking, that’s all. Helen tells me you’re staying in a suite and—”

“Josie?” Langston Whitman stuck his head out of the vendors’ room, and the instant he saw me, a look of relief swept over his face. “Well, this is lucky. I thought I’d have to search all over for you. Could you…” He glanced from me to Kaz and back to me. “Could we talk somewhere? Privately?”

I didn’t bother excusing myself. But then, I don’t think Kaz noticed. A group of four middle-aged women came over and said they needed help figuring out where the ballroom was. Just for the record, it was about fifteen feet to our right, but rather than point that out, Kaz showed them the way. Kaz was in his glory, all right, playing the button hero the way he never had back when we were married.

Yes, I know. Sour grapes. And I refused to go there. Langston stepped out of the dealer room, looked around to make sure we were alone, and then, even though we were, beckoned me even further down the hallway and farther from the conference-goers.

I didn’t like the little vee of worry creased between Langston’s eyes any more than I liked the fact that though he looked calm enough, his fingers were tight around the handle of the awl he held in one hand.

Automatically, my stomach knotted. “What’s up?” I asked him.

“We’ve got a… situation.” He was as reluctant to say it as I was to hear it, and he rolled the awl between his palms, steeling himself. The awl must have been one of Elliot’s. It
was seven inches long with a warm mahogany handle that was carved in a series of hypnotic, undulating spirals. The steel tip… Well, if the way the overhead lights glinted off it meant anything, that was perfect, too. It was sharpened to a no-nonsense point that was just right for piercing the heavy card stock we used to display our buttons.

Langston’s nostrils flared. “Thad Wyant stopped by last night after the dinner cruise. Here in the dealer room as we were setting up our booths.”

I groaned. “And he said something stupid. I’m so sorry, Langston. When I invited him to the conference, I had no idea that a man so studious and with such a good reputation could be so—”

“Neanderthal?” Langston’s eyes glittered. At least for a moment. The next second, he took pity on me. “No, no, don’t worry about that. I saw Wyant in action on the boat last night. I knew I was in for trouble the moment he showed up. But I never expected…”

His hesitation made my heartbeat speed up.

Langston tightened his grip on the awl. “He said he’d be busy this morning, and he asked if I’d mind if he bought some things last night. I know, I know…” Even though I wasn’t going to object, he held up the hand with the awl in it to stop me, just in case. “We aren’t supposed to sell anything before the official opening of the vendor room this morning. But he is the guest of honor, after all, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make one exception. Wyant has a stellar reputation, and frankly, I liked the idea of a little publicity. You know, when word got around that he was buying his supplies from me.”

“Is that what he wanted? Supplies?” I wasn’t sure why this sounded so odd to me; I only knew it did. I suppose I thought a man as well versed in the world of buttons as
Wyant was would have all the supplies he needed. After all, he’d been building his collection for more years than I’d been alive.

“Oh, yes.” Langston nodded. “Supplies were exactly what that son-of-a—” He remembered himself and took a deep breath. “Supplies were exactly what Wyant was looking for. He chose one of Elliot’s awls, one much like this one but with a cherry handle. And he bought some plastic sleeves and card stock, too. Or at least he tried.” Like he was as embarrassed now that he was telling me about it as he had been when it happened, Langston glanced away. “Wyant’s credit card was declined.”

I cringed. “And that’s when things got ugly. I can only imagine.”

“No, no. It wasn’t like that at all. In fact, Wyant was barely fazed by the whole thing. He said there must have been some mix-up with his credit-card company. He said he was going back to his room to call them. And he left.”

“No big blowup?” I was grateful but ambivalent.

“Not one unpleasant word,” Langston assured me. “Elliot and I went about our business setting up our booth. Then this morning…” With the awl, Langston pointed back toward the vendor room. “You know how busy it can be, especially the first day of a conference. Everybody’s so eager to see everything, especially the buttons some of the dealers are selling. Things were hectic, and just a little while ago… Well, Wyant came back. I figured he’d worked out his problems with the credit-card company. But I was with a customer and so was Elliot, and by the time we were finished, Wyant was gone.”

No way that was the end of the story. I tipped my head, my eyes on Langston. “And?”

“And…” Like just saying it was distasteful, Langston
made a face. He’d controlled himself long enough, and now the words rushed out of him, his voice rough with anger, the bones of his knuckles showing where he grabbed the awl. “And when I finally got around to catching my breath, I realized there were some things missing from my booth. That cherry-handled awl, for one thing, and you see how fine Elliot’s work is, Josie.” He opened his palm to give me another look at the awl with the mahogany handle. “Beautiful and expensive. And besides the awl, some plastic sleeves and card stock. In fact, every single thing Wyant looked at last night was gone.”

My breath caught. “Are you saying—”

“No, I’m not. Because I don’t know for sure. And damn, I wish I did, because I’d like to take that egotistical bastard and—” Langston realized he’d lost control and sucked in a sharp breath. “I only know what Wyant looked at last night. And that he came back this morning when we were too busy to take care of him. I’m certain of what’s missing. But I never saw him take any of it, Josie. As much as I don’t like him, I can’t accuse the man. I’m sorry.” He put a hand on my shoulder, and honestly, I don’t think it was as much to comfort me as it was to help him get a grip on himself. “It’s a lousy way to start your morning. But I thought you should know that there just might be more to your guest of honor than meets the eye.”

“Yes, of course. You’re right. I’ll contact hotel security and file a report.”

“And we’ll check the bastard’s room, right?”

In spite of the fact that I had solved a murder a couple of months before, I’m definitely no expert when it comes to the law. I didn’t want to make any promises I couldn’t keep. “I suppose if the security finds some kind of evidence—”

“Evidence?” Langston rumbled. “The supplies that are
missing are worth a couple hundred dollars,” he said. “That makes it a felony, right? And even that isn’t the most important thing. You’ve got a guest of honor who thinks he’s better than everyone else. That he’s above the law, and that he doesn’t have to play by the rules. You’ve got to do something about it, Josie.” He whirled around and strode off toward the lobby. “You’ve got to,” he said, turning to me one last time. “Or I will.”

When he disappeared into the crowd, I let go of a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding and sagged against the wall, waiting for my heartbeat to ratchet back before I dared to head out and do a last-minute sound check in the ballroom. I was almost there when Helen scurried by. She caught sight of me and made a beeline in my direction.

“Trouble in River City!” she said in a singsong voice and stage whisper meant only for me. She waved me closer. “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.