Free Hot Button by Kylie Logan Page A

Thad’s death. What if Thad’s death was somehow tied to the Geronimo button? What if something had happened to it? That button was a priceless historical object, a one-of-a-kind link with the past and a valiant warrior.
    What if. . ?
    Panic is so not a pretty thing, and make no mistake, I was toeing the edge of it.
    I gulped down a breath to calm myself, and when that didn’t work, I tried another. I paced and told myself it was too soon to worry. We would look for the Geronimo button as soon as possible.
    Er… that is, Nev and the other cops would look for the button.
    After all, it was their job, not mine. I would mention the button to Nev as soon as I was able, but other than that—
    “Did you say something, dear?” Helen’s voice on the other end of the phone snapped me back to reality. “About the Geronimo button and how there are lots of folks here who are eager to see it, and now, they might not get the chance? Because it’s a little hard to hear. There are people nearby talking and chatting and having a good time. Of course, they don’t realize the entire conference is about to crumble around them. They’re counting on hearing Thad Wyant speak tonight. And on getting their first look at that button of his.”
    “I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait. But don’t tell them that. Don’t tell them anything. Just that…” I imaginedstanding at the podium in the front of the ballroom and trying to explain away the inexplicable. “Just that Thad can’t be there and that I can’t be, either, and that I’m very sorry. Just find me someone who can stand up after dinner and talk about buttons for forty-five minutes. Any buttons. That shouldn’t be hard in a conference full of button collectors.”
    “Well…” I had known Helen for a long time, and I could tell by the way she drew out the word that she was pink from chin to forehead. “My laptop is up in my room, and I might still have a PowerPoint presentation on it that I gave at a local button society meeting a couple years ago. It’s about fop buttons. You know, buttons that depict French aristocratic fashions of the eighteenth century. That just might be enough to take people’s minds off the fact that Thad Wyant is missing.”
    “He isn’t. Not exactly.”
    The subtle distinction was lost on Helen. “I don’t want to seem pushy,” she said. “I mean, by suggesting I do the talk. There are plenty of other people here who might be willing to jump up and volunteer. You know, if we want to interrupt them and make them scramble to put together some kind of talk when they should be enjoying dinner. I don’t want to come off looking like a publicity hound.”
    For the first time since Ralph dragged me into the basement, I felt some of the stress inside me uncurl. “You’re not, Helen. You’re a lifesaver, that’s what you are.”
    “Then you’d like me to take over your duties? And Thad’s?”
    “Yes. Please. Thank you.” From across the hall I saw Nev glance around, and I knew he was looking for me. “Sorry,” I added, right before I clicked off the call.
    I was just in time to watch Nev hand Ralph off to one ofthe uniformed cops standing near the service elevator, then head straight for me.
    “Hey.” He’d said that once already, but I didn’t bother to point it out. I also didn’t bother to mention that he was wearing almost exactly what he’d been wearing on our last date: rumpled khaki suit, wrinkled blue Oxford cloth shirt. That date was two weeks earlier, and we’d gone to a movie. Since buttons are just about the only thing I am capable of discussing for any length of time and police work is pretty much the only thing Nev can talk about, movies provide us a nice conversation-free environment. In the couple of months we’d known each other, we’d seen a lot of movies.
    Not that we’re complete morons when it comes to interpersonal skills. After all, we’d already worked together to solve one murder, and truth