Bylines & Skylines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 9) (14 page)

“I did not.” Yeah, that sounded weak even to my own ears. I decided to try again. “I was just distracted by all of the blue paint.”

“Are you sure that’s it?”

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Jake said. “I won’t be answering any questions about the murder, just so you know. I will give you a blanket statement on the safety of the event, but it’s the same statement I’m giving everyone else.”

“I don’t need you to figure out what’s going on,” I gritted out, my stomach twisting. He knew something else was going on. Heck, I knew it, too. I couldn’t even admit to myself what it was, though. I didn’t want to deal with it. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“You always are,” Jake said. “You’re not on your own now, though. You’re with Eliot. You’re moving in together.”

What was that supposed to mean? “This again?”

“It’s none of my business,” Jake said, holding up his hands. “I just … can’t seem to wrap my brain around it and I hate myself because I feel as if I’m ruining this for you.”

He’s always honest about his feelings. It’s annoying. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Why would you upset me?”

Jake shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s just the feeling I got.”

In truth, he didn’t upset me. It was that stupid Princess Leia and the way he looked at her. I could never admit that, though. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“
S
o she had
blond hair and was a lesbian, huh?”

I was irritated after my brief exchange with Jake, but I had a job to do and I was happy to focus on it. Unfortunately, everyone I conversed with described Kristen Reardon differently. One said she was short, another tall. She was on the ground when I saw her, but I would put her at medium height for a woman. Some thought she was blond and others brunette. One man thought she had a shaved head and multiple tattoos. Some people described her as sexually promiscuous while others explained she was frigid, and one even thought she might be transitioning, although he couldn’t be sure if it was into a man or a woman, and he seemed to be excited – and perversely turned on – either way.

The only thing I was completely sure about was that no one seemed to actually know Kristen. The entire thing made absolutely no sense.

“She was definitely a lesbian,” the guy dressed as Thor said, his cheap flaxen wig making me want to yank it off of his head. “I heard she made out with the girl who brings grog at one of those fantasy displays.”

“What’s grog?”

“It’s just cheap beer.”

“Why don’t you call it that?”

“Because people won’t pay seven bucks for a glass of cheap beer.”

He had a point. “Okay. Thanks.” I kept my smile in place until I was sure he was gone and then unleashed an eyeroll so heavy it almost toppled me to the ground. I decided to recover with a blueberry slush and sat near the
Star Trek
exhibit to enjoy it as I scanned the crowd.

I was bothered. There was no other way to put it. A woman was brutally killed – probably at this very location, although Jake wasn’t sharing on that front – yet no one seemed to care. As far as I could tell, the convention workers formed small cliques and anyone outside those cliques was beyond their realm of consideration.

The convention workers were separated from the big stars. They had people in costumes for photo opportunities and to put on small skits, but the stars had their own handlers and interacted as little as possible with the salaried employees. I had to believe that was not something out of the ordinary for just this convention. If it was out of the ordinary, the stars would act weird, and they seemed to be in their own little world. Most were happy to interact with fans, but others seemed to think they were above it, clearly showing up only because they were paid to do so.

I sucked on my slush as I considered how Kristen died. Strangulation is a way to kill up close, personal. That meant Kristen probably knew her assailant. The odds of it being someone associated with the college seemed slim, but I couldn’t rule that out. The murderer didn’t understand how hard it was to strangle someone. That’s why he or she stabbed her through the throat to finish her off. Perhaps things got out of hand and once the killer already strangled her there was no choice but to finish the job. Or perhaps it was a stranger and I was overreaching.

There were just too many possibilities to wrap my head around.

I was halfway through with my slush when something of interest caught my eye. Eliot and Jake stood on the far side of the room, purposely closing themselves off from prying ears, and they appeared to be in deep conversation. Jake related something to Eliot that caused Eliot to fire back with big hand gestures. They weren’t exactly friendly, but they’d made huge inroads of late and were trying to repair a friendship they’d lost years ago when they served together in the military.

As much as my ego would like to believe Eliot and Jake were constantly sparring over me, it wasn’t true. They had other things between them. For some reason, though, I believed whatever they were arguing about now – and it clearly looked like a vehement disagreement – revolved around me.

I like to complain about gossip as much as the next person, but I enjoy partaking in it. That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from moving closer in an attempt to eavesdrop. Given the thick crowd and abundance of costumed people, though, closing the distance while hiding myself wasn’t exactly easy. At any moment I knew something could draw Jake or Eliot’s attention and I’d be caught. Of course, that didn’t stop me from continuing my quest.

“I’m not saying that,” Jake said once I was finally close enough to hear them. “It was just … weird.”

I knew what he was talking about without even racking my brain. He was relating his run-in with me to Eliot. What a snitch. I mean … really. I was overwhelmed with the desperate need to kick him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eliot said, his tone grim. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Jake didn’t look convinced. “How are you going to handle it?”

“I said I would handle it,” Eliot shot back. “Don’t concern yourself with how. I’ll get it done.”

“Forgive me if I don’t readily jump on the Avery Shaw ‘Eliot can do no wrong’ bandwagon,” Jake deadpanned. “I need more information than that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Eliot challenged, annoyed.

“Never mind,” Jake replied, waving off the question. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. I’m just … off … today.”

“No offense, man, but you’ve seemed off a lot this past week,” Eliot said. “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

“Why would I want to say anything to you?”

“I don’t know. That’s just the feeling I get.”

“Well, let it go,” Jake snapped. “I’m fine.”

“I’m fine, too,” Eliot said.

“We’re both fine. Bully for us.”

Eliot cracked a grin. “I don’t think I’ve heard that saying since my grandmother used it when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, I knew it sounded lame seconds before it came out of my mouth,” Jake said. “It was too late to stop it, though. Maybe Avery’s verbal diarrhea is catchy.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, Eliot finally clearing his throat to direct Jake’s attention back to him. “If you need to talk about something else … .”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think that’s a terrible idea,” Jake said.

“Why?”

“Because you’ll tell Avery and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I don’t tell Avery everything,” Eliot protested. “If you want me to keep quiet about something, I’ll do it.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. When did that become the rule? We were going to have a talk and I was going to be the one setting the relationship rules for a change. I can put up with only so much, and my boyfriend gossiping with my ex-boyfriend behind my back doesn’t fall under the heading of acceptable banter.

“You can’t keep it a secret,” Jake said.

“I can so. I’m not a girl.”

Jake snorted. “No, I mean you can’t keep it a secret because Avery won’t let you,” he said. “She’ll eavesdrop and snoop if she thinks you’re hiding something.”

“What makes you say that?”

Jake pointed in my direction, causing my stomach to roll as I went rigid. “Because she’s eavesdropping right now.”

“Son of a … .” Eliot shifted so he could more easily look around the big Avengers standee I hid behind. “Hello, Trouble. Did you lose something?”

“My marbles?”

“That sounds about right,” Eliot said. “Did you get an earful?”

“I dropped my phone,” I said, holding up my cell phone for proof of my lie. Thankfully it was in my hand for the duration of the conversation and I didn’t have to dig for it. That would’ve been awkward.

“Yeah, neither of us believe that,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Why are you over here listening to us? Why aren’t you scrounging around for information on the dead girl?”

“I have been doing that,” I said, lifting my other hand to show off the slush. “I was just taking a break.”

Eliot smirked. “Well, then you should probably get back at it, huh?”

“I guess so,” I said, rolling my neck. I needed them to think that I had a purpose other than listening to a conversation that was none of my business. “Oh, there. I’m going to talk to Wonder Woman. She was next on my list anyway.”

Eliot and Jake stared appraisingly at the woman in question’s outfit before Eliot realized what he was doing and guiltily glanced in my direction. “Well … have fun.”

“I saw that.”

“Yeah? Well I know you were eavesdropping, so I guess we’re even.”

Crap. I couldn’t really argue with that. I hate it when that happens.

I
MANAGED
to avoid Eliot and Jake for the next hour, although it wasn’t easy. I caught sight of Eliot twice – and he appeared to be looking for something, or someone – but I dodged him on both occasions. Okay, by “avoid” I mean I hid behind big men or women in outrageous wigs. It’s the same thing, though. I was not in the mood to answer questions.

Of course, because I was shirking adulthood and acting like a child, that allowed Duncan to find me. He was completely covered in green goo – which made me happy – and he looked as if he wanted to kill me. Strangely enough, that also made me happy.

Instead of greeting him with sympathy, I bent at the waist and laughed loudly enough to draw attention. That caused several people in the vicinity to start laughing, which only made Duncan angrier.

“You did this on purpose,” he spat, pointing a finger. “You knew they were going to … slime … me.”

I frowned, delight and genuine curiosity warring for prominence in my brain. “I … that’s a
Ghostbusters
thing. How did you end up slimed?”

“You’ll have to ask the
Paranormal Delights
people,” Duncan hissed. “Did you know this was part of their outdoor activity?”

“No. If I did, I would’ve made sure the photographer made you the center of attention.” What? It’s not as if he was hurt. He’s covered in slime. It’s okay to make fun of people in embarrassing situations as long as they’re not hurt. No, that’s really a thing. Honest.

“The photographer was there,” Duncan said, taking a threatening step in my direction. “He said he’s going to run the photo on the front page.”

“Oh, well, good for him.”

“If you let that happen I’ll kill you.” Duncan attempted to wipe some of the green goo from his face but only made things worse when it dripped into his eye. “Don’t laugh!”

I couldn’t stop myself. “You look like the Jolly Green Tool.”

“I will kill you,” Duncan warned, extending a filthy finger. “Your boyfriend isn’t around to protect you.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I scoffed, although his current plight gave me an idea. “We’ll go outside and you can change your clothes. I’ll keep a watch out while you change in your car.”

Duncan frowned. “Change into what? I didn’t bring a separate outfit.”

“It’s a comic book convention,” I pointed out. “I’ll buy a shirt and a pair of shorts and you’ll fit right in. I can have the newspaper reimburse me.”

“I’m not wearing anything from here.” Duncan was mortified. “People will laugh.”

I glanced around. “People are already laughing.”

“This is not funny!” Duncan exploded, drawing even more attention – and out-and-out belly laughs – as he shook his head. “I hate you. This is your fault.”

“What’s going on?” Eliot appeared at my side, causing me to cringe. He was the reason I volunteered to act as lookout for Duncan in the first place. I thought I might be able to evade him – and get a breather – by helping my sworn enemy. Wait … that sounded better in my head before I finished the thought.

“She did this to me,” Duncan snapped, jabbing his finger in my direction for emphasis. “She knew I’d get slimed.”

Eliot didn’t bother hiding his smile. “Oh, it is your lucky week, Avery. You must love this.”

“It gets better. The photographer was there and now Duncan is going to be on the front page of the newspaper.”

“You should buy more lottery tickets.”

“I’m definitely considering it.”

“Are you paying any attention to me?” Duncan screeched, causing me to have to bite the inside of my cheek. If I laughed again he really would lunge at me. Then Eliot would have to take him down and things wouldn’t be nearly as funny.

“I’m paying attention,” I said, blowing out a sigh. “Come on. We’ll go outside and I’ll buy you an outfit. You can change in the car while I’m watching to make sure no one sees you.”

“How do I know you won’t see me?”

“Because I go home to this every night.” I patted Eliot’s shoulder. “No one wants to look at you when they can look at him.”

Eliot snickered. “Oh, that’s almost enough for you to get out of trouble from before.”

“Almost?”

“Almost,” Eliot confirmed. “Go out to the parking lot. I’ll buy some clothes and meet you there. Do not strip in front of her, Duncan. I mean it.”

“I don’t want to be naked with her.” Duncan looked horrified at the prospect. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“That would just be a nice side benefit,” Eliot said dryly. “Go outside and I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I hedged. “I … can take care of it.”

“Well, we need to have a talk and it’s better to do it out there,” Eliot said. “You’re not getting out of the talk, so shut your mouth and simply agree to meet me. Let’s just get it over with.”

“Fine.” I scuffed my foot on the floor. “If I tell everyone you’re hotter than Duncan, will that make the conversation easier to get through?”

Eliot’s grin was impish. “Maybe a little.”

“Duncan looks like a toad and you resemble the resulting prince when you kiss the toad,” I offered.

“Very cute,” Eliot said, poking my ribs. “We’re still going to have a talk. Don’t work yourself up, though. It won’t be a big one.”

“
I
hate both of you
,” Duncan seethed, striding toward the exit without mounting further argument. “I think you both suck.”

Well, at least that part of my day was going well.

I led Duncan toward the parking lot, tuning out his pathetic rambling as I followed him to his car. He wouldn’t shut his mouth, going on and on about evil women and the men who loved them. I was just about to order him to shut up when I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye.

I lifted my head and saw a dark figure wearing a cape – or maybe it was just a black coat that looked like a cape – running in my direction. For a moment, I thought it was part of a demonstration. He was almost on top of me when I realized he didn’t have a face – he was wearing a mask – and he clutched a knife in his hand.