Free Frosted Shadow, a Toni Diamond Mystery: Toni Diamond Mysteries by Nancy Warren Page A

to be proven right. The death had nothing to do with Lady Bianca and they could all get back to their seminar.
    “Oh,” he said, letting his espresso gaze settle on her for a warm moment, “It wasn’t a waste.”
    And he was gone.
    Which was just as well since she was, for the first time in years, speechless.
    Luke strode into the Cactus Room and knew he wasn’t in Lady Bianca land anymore. Not a sequin, a sash or a single balloon could he find in the sparsely populated conference room. No dress code either unless the requirements were tweed, knit sweaters and eyeglasses.
    Where the Lady Bianca crowd tended to display cosmetics and prizes everywhere, usually with a lot of purple frills and glitzy helium balloons wafting along for the ride, the mystery readers went in for books. Tables stacked with books. Hard cover, paperback and trade paperback. Hefty, glossy bestsellers written by household names and obscure, small-press titles whose print run was probably in the hundreds.
    The bookworms who had registered wandered around, some with their name tags already hanging around their necks, holding simple cloth bags printed with the words “A Conference to Die For.” The logo was a laughing skull.
    In Jane Doe’s case those words were more prescient than the conference organizers could have imagined.
    He headed first for the long table at the front of the room where three registrars sat: two ladies who had to be in their seventies, grandmotherly types with white hair and glasses, and a skinny young man, intense and scraggly in a black sweater vest. College student, Luke guessed.
    Both the young guy and one of the older women were occupied with registrations, but the other woman put down her Kindle when he stepped in front of her, and eyed him with a smiling welcome.
    “Here to register?”
    “I’m a police officer.” He backed up so she could see his belt badge and sidearm, then introduced himself. “I’ve got a few questions.”
    Her expression was a cross between amusement and concern. “We only read about crime, Detective. We aren’t planning any.”
    “There’s already been a murder in the hotel.”
    Her hand went to her heart and he wished he hadn’t been so blunt. “But -- I didn’t -- I’ve been so busy, traveling straight here and then coming down to help with the registration that I never listened to the news. Oh, how awful. What happened?”
    “A woman was stabbed to death. I think she might have been with your group.” He pulled out the photograph. “Do you recognize this woman?”
    The lady adjusted her glasses more firmly on her nose and gazed at the photograph for a long time, long enough that he began to hope she had recognized the dead woman. Finally she said, “It’s so sad to see them die young. One of my nieces died tragically. Drug overdose. I remember the viewing. How pale she looked, and how peaceful. This reminds me – a little.”
    “I’m sorry to upset you. Do you need some water?”
    “No. I’m fine.” She blinked hard. “Just for that moment…”
    “Any chance you recognize the woman in the picture?”
    “No. I’m sorry. I’ve never seen her before.” She handed back the photo.
    “How many do you expect at the convention?”
    “About a hundred and fifty. And then the speakers and authors on top of that. But our members come from all over the country. I don’t know them all.”
    He repeated the process with the other two at the registration desk and struck out twice more.
    “So, none of you registered her.”
    “No,” said the young guy, “but registration didn’t start ‘til today. There’s always a few who come early to check out the city or hook up with friends.” He shrugged. “Maybe she arrived early.”
    The second woman said, “There are other conferences here, Detective, as I’m sure you’re aware. Perhaps she’s with Lady Bianca.”
    Funny how every conference wanted to shunt the murder victim to somebody else’s agenda. “In fact, she did