Death Indoors: Target Practice Mysteries 4 (4 page)

As we left the cafeteria, a mass of people emerged from the hallway and entered the cafeteria line. The morning line must be done.

We grabbed drinks and headed toward the large dining room, a mix of booths and tables that was always open and made a convenient place to hang out. We weaved through the tables and joined Loggin and Moo near the windows. I sat down, and the cold of the Wyoming winter sucked the heat off the side of my body closest to the glass.

Moo was standing next to Loggin's chair, his eyes locked onto Loggin's plate of food, making low whimpering noises.

I shook my head. "Loggin, did you give Moo food?"

He stopped mid-bite and looked at his plate, where a bit of hamburger was hanging on the edge. He sucked air through his teeth. "Uh..."

"Don't feed Moo human food. It's very bad for dogs." I made Moo lie down. His doggy eyebrows tented above his eyes, and he smacked his lips before he gave up. He moaned dramatically as he flopped onto his side by my feet. "So you decided to come shoot the tournament?"

Loggin finished chewing and nodded. "It worked out perfectly. It gave us a chance to brainstorm about some projects, and I can test out the new Andersson setup."

Like Mary and me, Loggin had recently gotten a Westmound sponsorship, which included equipment from all the Westmound-owned companies.

Mouse dragged over a chair and plopped down next to me. "Gee, thanks, guys. Leave me sitting all alone over there," she groaned with teenage angst.

"You know you're always welcome at our table. How was the practice range this morning?" I asked, hoping to keep the conversation moving along. I was still adjusting to the dynamics of living with a group of people, which I hadn't done since college a billion years ago.

Mouse tended to be a bit needier since she only lived on site half the week. We spent a lot of time reassuring her that she was part of the group. Being the oldest one, I tried to be the most patient.

"Dude, what is up with all the drama today?" she said with a huge smile and eagerness in her tone.

I stabbed at my salad. "Did anything else happen this morning other than the pants incident and plunger fiasco?" The acidic lemon juice, fruity olive oil and tart vinegar that I used for salad dressing rolled around in my mouth. It wasn't quite as fulfilling as the rich, creamy ranch dressing I was used to, but it was tasty. Perhaps after a few weeks of healthy eating, my palate was evolving.

"Not really." She bit into her hamburger, and a big blob of mayonnaise plopped onto her jersey. "Coach Ron was a pain in the butt, bossing everyone around like he was in charge. It was so boring in there. How come you and Mary don't have to run the practice range?"

I held back a sigh. "Because we aren't part of the OSA program. We're both employees of the center. Don't you worry, we do plenty of work around here."

Minx, Mary, and Orion walked up, carrying trays of food, and joined us.

"Minx, Mary, how did it go?" I gave a nod to Orion but focused on the girls.

Minx sat down next to Loggin. "Okay. I could do better, but it's fine; indoors has never been my game. But Mary is tearing it up."

Heads swiveled around to Mary, who shrugged. "I'm doing okay."

Orion chuckled. "Don't listen to her. Kicking butt and taking names."

She smiled at him, her cheeks a rosy pink. "Thanks. I made a few dumb mistakes, but this is about the best I can do. I wish I had been training longer, but..." She shrugged and dug into her meal.

Minx rolled her eyes at Mary then snapped her fingers and pointed at me. "Oh, did everyone wish Di a happy birthday?"

I slid a carrot stick through the hummus and crunched on it. Hummus was supposed to provide the brain with serotonin to improve brain function, and with the way my brain was performing so far today, I needed it. Eyes swiveled to me, and I gave them a tight smile.

Minx winked. "She's fifty-four today."

I tried to swallow my bite of carrot but choked instead. Liam pounded my back until I caught my breath. I wadded up a napkin and threw it at her, but Loggin snatched it out of the air.

"How old are you?" Mouse asked.

"Thirty-one," I said.

"Oh, cool, you totally don't look that old."

"Because thirty-one's not old." I tried to sound confident, but Mouse looked dubious. This day was not shaping up the way it should.

Liam chuckled next to me.

Pants and a group of kids were hesitantly edging toward our tables. I could feel their anxiousness to say something. I turned around in my seat to face them. "Hey, guys, what's up?"

Pants rushed forward. "Hey, I called my mom, and she said that we can write you a check or something to pay for the Westmound pants you gave me." She was perched on her toes, and she leaned forward, the group behind her pressed close.

I waved a hand. "No worries."

The group surged in closer. "I told everyone that you gave me the nickname Pants and... um... we were thinking... maybe... uh..." She shifted on her feet. "They want nicknames," she blurted out.

The kids around her nodded.

Minx chuckled. She had given me my nickname, which I hated. "The torch has been passed, Princess."

"Why don't you guys pick out your own nicknames?" I asked.

Mouse shook her head. "It's way cooler if your pro name is given to you."

"Oh," I looked back at the kids. They were a sea of eager faces, each trying to make eye contact as they smiled. "Um, I got nothing right now, but I'll see what I can do." For once, the fact that I was awful at names would work to my benefit. "Hey, if that kid with the plunger issue wants a nickname, I've been thinking of him as Buckle and his dad as Spotting Dad."

"Awesome!" Pants shouted. "Buckle and Spot?"

"Sure." I shrugged. Close enough.

"Sweet! Let's go tell him." Pants practically ran over the girl behind her, and they raced between the tables, their boisterous voices echoing throughout the room.

I watched them go in little, laughing groups. What a fun way to spend their weekend with their friends on a grand adventure.

I turned back to the group. "Why do they need pro names? They're not pros."

"Cause it's fun?" Mouse said. She was not that far removed in age from them.

"All the archers they look up to have a pro name, even if they don't use it. Right, Bloody Mary?" Minx winked at Mary.

"Yep. And if you try to avoid it, they'll give you one behind your back. Eh, Lumberjack?" Mary teased Liam.

Liam rolled his eyes at Mary and kept eating his meatloaf sandwich. I needed to introduce him to the wonders of hummus.

Jess walked up with a sandwich in her hand. "Hey, everyone. Di, Mouse, how are you feeling?"

Mouse ate the last French fry off her plate. "Great, practice was awesome."

"My practice was less awesome," I said.

Jess nodded. "No rush, but when you're done eating, let's grab a few minutes in your office to talk."

I nodded, then my stomach dropped when Coach Ron's voice said from behind me, "You need to fix the Wi-Fi."

CHAPTER THREE

I took a slow, calming breath and turned around with a smile. Apparently he had discovered that I worked at the center. "Pardon me?"

He grumbled at me then spoke slowly, carefully saying each word. "I can't connect to the Wi-Fi."

I tried to smile but couldn't imagine that it was very convincing. "I'm sorry, sir, the Wi-Fi is only for tournament staff."

"There's zero cell reception in the range, and I need to update the parents."

"There's great reception if you step out into the parking lot."

He pointed to the window, behind which snowflakes danced down from the sky. "It's snowing."

"It's January in Wyoming. That barely qualifies as snow." Snarkiness crept into my voice. "I'm sorry, but the wireless is dedicated to getting the live scoring out. If it makes you feel any better, we're not using the Wi-Fi either." I gestured to the table, and everyone nodded in agreement.

He took in a breath to speak then cut his eyes over to Liam and stopped. Instead he mumbled, "Thanks anyways," and left.

I turned back to the table, which had gone quiet.

Mouse slapped me on the back. "Way to put him in his place."

"What? I thought I was pretty diplomatic." I looked around the table.

"Sure," Mary said, dragging out the word dubiously.

Jess quirked an eyebrow at me. "I wouldn't call it diplomatic, but you were fine. He's been nothing but a bother today."

"Did you get that kid's bow fixed?"

She finished off the rest of her sandwich. Little flecks of green paste clung to her lips before she licked them off, probably her kale-and-hummus mix she swore by. At least she practiced what she preached. "As well as we could. You done? Ready to talk?"

"Yeppers." I stood up and grabbed my tray.

Mouse called after me, "Di, I put your bow and quiver on your chair at the range. Next to Moo's bed."

"Thanks!" I raised my voice as I replied over my shoulder.

After dropping the tray off at the return station, I followed behind Jess. "We can use my office," I said. I wanted some privacy.

I unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and grabbed my desk chair.

Jess closed the door and also grabbed a chair. "Tell me about practice."

"I only got in two ends, but I was a total mess. I could barely get through the clicker. I shook. My heart was pounding. I barely hit the target at all. Do I have to shoot today?" I flopped my head down onto my arms on the desk.

The clicker was a thin piece of metal that went on the far side of the arrow. When you pulled back far enough, it would click against the riser and let you know that you had drawn back to the correct distance.

"Yes, you have to compete. Come on, you're not a quitter."

I rolled my head to the side. "I know. I can't not shoot, but..." I swallowed hard. I had known Jess for years. I had to be honest. "I'm so disappointed."

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself. You need two skills to succeed in archery: the ability to shoot and the ability to shoot in tournaments. You only get better by practicing both."

"Wanted to do well." I shuddered as I avoided her eye contact.

"You'll do well by having a good attitude and focusing on your goals. What are the goals we picked out?"

I let out a big sigh. I didn't want to be mature and think of practical matters. I wanted to win. But I forced my brain back into the frame of mind Jess was requesting. "Focusing on strong, aggressive shots."

She chuckled at me. "That's not very enthusiastic."

"I don't feel very enthusiastic, either." I gave her a half smile, the best I could authentically muster. I was frustrated but not a total whiner. "I really wanted to impress everyone."

Jess patted my head. "The tournament hasn't even started yet. You can't give up before your first arrow."

"Will you watch me shoot some?"

"Yes, but there isn't much I can really do for you other than help you stay in the right head space. Like my coach used to say, 'If you didn't bring it with you, you won't find it here.'" Jess got up, opened the door and leaned into the hall. "Hey, Liam, hold on! Come on, Di, grab your jacket and boots. Go walk Moo with Liam and get some sun on your face. Give me your tournament bag, and I'll put it on your chairs."

I passed her a tote with a book and a Bible to flip through if I needed to take my mind off things, headphones to plug into my phone, a water bottle, nuts, nocks, and other things I might need. Then I ripped off my shoes, slid my feet into oversized ranch boots, and grabbed my jacket. "Thanks, Jess."

I closed and locked my door then jogged to catch up with Liam and Moo, who were waiting for me. I dug my mittens out of my jacket as I followed Moo through the two sets of double doors that prevented the wind from getting inside.

The sun was warm on my face, even though the air was cold. I turned to face it and soak up every ray. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air, I threw my shoulders back and felt a bit better.

People milled around the parking lot, loading or unloading cars.

I reached over for Moo's leash. "I've got boots on."

Moo and I walked through the snow next to the parking lot. He danced and bounded, kicking the snow out behind him on stiff back legs. He buried his head in the snow then flipped his head back, sending up a fine mist of flakes. The snow clung to his eyebrows and made me giggle. Liam was watching us from the sidewalk with a smile.

Moo led me back to his favorite bushes, which he meticulously sniffed before finding the perfect branch to water. Once finished, he raced to the end of the lead as he danced through the snow, stomping down snowdrifts then rolling on his back.

I crouched down, careful not to touch the snow with my pants, and kissed Moo on the soft fur in front of his ear then hugged him around the neck. I rubbed my cheek up against his neck and whispered, "I love you, Mr. Moo," but he was too excited to be held down. He bounced away, flattening a small branch that was sticking out of the snow. While Liam had been in Salt Lake the past few weeks, Moo had lived with me, and I wasn't sure if I could return Moo when Liam moved back.