lot of interesting people. I'm glad you're here. I'll tell you all about it when it's over. How about dinner Monday night? Prepare yourself to say nothing but 'Oh dear' and 'That's great.' "
"I should be free," Mel said with a grin. "Let's go out somewhere nice where there's a comfortable booth so I can nap for a while."
They joined Shelley in the back of the seminar room, and within seconds Mel's cell phone buzzed quietly. He walked out of the room and didn't return.
"This is a bit of a bore," Shelley said in a near whisper. "Felicity was the best speaker. The rest are unbelievably pompous. How did your interview go?"
A woman sitting two rows ahead of them turned and glared at them. "I'm trying to hear the speakers," she snapped.
They glared back and moved across the aisle where no one was close enough to hear them.
"I don't suppose Miss Mystery is on the panel?" Jane said. "She'd blow her cover."
"Everybody's trying to figure out which attendee she is. So far as I know, nobody has a firm
idea," Shelley said. "Apparently she's good at fading into the background and keeping her ear to the ground. I admit I've noticed a middle-aged woman who hangs out in the lobby pretending to read a book. Always sitting close to authors who are having private talks. She's my best guess. I'll show her to you the next time I spot her."
An idiotic question was being addressed to Felicity, so Jane and Shelley stopped chatting to listen politely to how she responded. Felicity spoke gracefully, then sat back to endure the rest of the hour.
So did Jane and Shelley.
When it was over at last, they drifted out the door and discussed what they'd do that evening. Dinner, according to the schedule, was "on your own." They presumed this was because the editors and agents would be taking their clients out to nice dinners. There were no specific plans for the rest of the attendees, except that two conference rooms had been made available for people to sit and chat about whatever they liked. This seemed deadly to both Jane and Shelley.
"Want to cab down to that seafood restaurant we went to near the Merchandise Mart, the one you liked so much?" Shelley asked.
"It's Friday night. Wouldn't it be too late to make a reservation?" Jane asked.
"We could try. Do you want to take Mel along? My treat."
"If I can find him. I wonder what that call was about."
"Ring him up on his cell phone and see."
Jane did so. He didn't answer, so she left a message. He rang back a few minutes later when they'd gone up to the suite.
"Somebody found a man bashed in the head in the parking lot behind the hotel," he said. "I think he's part of this conference. A weird-looking guy with striped hair."
"Zac Zebra!" Jane exclaimed.
"That's not what it says on his driver's license and car registration."
"Zac Zebra is a pseudonym. Is he in bad shape?"
"Out like a light. The medics say his pulse is good, his breathing is normal, and his pupils are fine, but he's out cold. They're loading him into the ambulance now."
"I don't suppose you're free to go to a nice dinner with us?"
"I probably will be. This isn't my case. I was just the closest detective to the site when the emergency call came in. They've assigned it to someone else."
"We'll try to make a reservation for three for seven o'clock. We're close enough to the restaurant so we don't have to leave until quarter of seven. Let us know. Let's take a cab, though. I don't want to drive in the dark yet in my new car, and your MG is too small for three of us."
"What's this about Zac?" Shelley said when Jane had hung up.
"He was knocked out in the parking lot behind the hotel," Jane said. "It's not Mel's case, so he can probably come with us. He said the medical people don't think Zac's in big trouble."
"Let's book the reservation, if we can, and go back down to the lobby to see if anyone knows more about this. Better yet, we can ask the concierge to make the reservation for us. They always
"I should be free," Mel said with a grin. "Let's go out somewhere nice where there's a comfortable booth so I can nap for a while."
They joined Shelley in the back of the seminar room, and within seconds Mel's cell phone buzzed quietly. He walked out of the room and didn't return.
"This is a bit of a bore," Shelley said in a near whisper. "Felicity was the best speaker. The rest are unbelievably pompous. How did your interview go?"
A woman sitting two rows ahead of them turned and glared at them. "I'm trying to hear the speakers," she snapped.
They glared back and moved across the aisle where no one was close enough to hear them.
"I don't suppose Miss Mystery is on the panel?" Jane said. "She'd blow her cover."
"Everybody's trying to figure out which attendee she is. So far as I know, nobody has a firm
idea," Shelley said. "Apparently she's good at fading into the background and keeping her ear to the ground. I admit I've noticed a middle-aged woman who hangs out in the lobby pretending to read a book. Always sitting close to authors who are having private talks. She's my best guess. I'll show her to you the next time I spot her."
An idiotic question was being addressed to Felicity, so Jane and Shelley stopped chatting to listen politely to how she responded. Felicity spoke gracefully, then sat back to endure the rest of the hour.
So did Jane and Shelley.
When it was over at last, they drifted out the door and discussed what they'd do that evening. Dinner, according to the schedule, was "on your own." They presumed this was because the editors and agents would be taking their clients out to nice dinners. There were no specific plans for the rest of the attendees, except that two conference rooms had been made available for people to sit and chat about whatever they liked. This seemed deadly to both Jane and Shelley.
"Want to cab down to that seafood restaurant we went to near the Merchandise Mart, the one you liked so much?" Shelley asked.
"It's Friday night. Wouldn't it be too late to make a reservation?" Jane asked.
"We could try. Do you want to take Mel along? My treat."
"If I can find him. I wonder what that call was about."
"Ring him up on his cell phone and see."
Jane did so. He didn't answer, so she left a message. He rang back a few minutes later when they'd gone up to the suite.
"Somebody found a man bashed in the head in the parking lot behind the hotel," he said. "I think he's part of this conference. A weird-looking guy with striped hair."
"Zac Zebra!" Jane exclaimed.
"That's not what it says on his driver's license and car registration."
"Zac Zebra is a pseudonym. Is he in bad shape?"
"Out like a light. The medics say his pulse is good, his breathing is normal, and his pupils are fine, but he's out cold. They're loading him into the ambulance now."
"I don't suppose you're free to go to a nice dinner with us?"
"I probably will be. This isn't my case. I was just the closest detective to the site when the emergency call came in. They've assigned it to someone else."
"We'll try to make a reservation for three for seven o'clock. We're close enough to the restaurant so we don't have to leave until quarter of seven. Let us know. Let's take a cab, though. I don't want to drive in the dark yet in my new car, and your MG is too small for three of us."
"What's this about Zac?" Shelley said when Jane had hung up.
"He was knocked out in the parking lot behind the hotel," Jane said. "It's not Mel's case, so he can probably come with us. He said the medical people don't think Zac's in big trouble."
"Let's book the reservation, if we can, and go back down to the lobby to see if anyone knows more about this. Better yet, we can ask the concierge to make the reservation for us. They always
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