Free Death Shoots a Birdie by CHRISTINE L. GOFF Page B

toward the dining room entrance. “Now, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to get over there before Lark and Cecilia catch on.”
    That made sense. “But we only have one car.”
    “I left a note for Cec saying we took a cab.”
    Was she an accomplice or a dupe, Rachel wondered. Either way, she abandoned the idea of coffee and followed Dorothy outside. A wave to the protestors and a three-dollar cab ride landed them in front of the convention center five minutes later, with twenty minutes to spare.
    With no field trips scheduled, the place pulsed with life. Birders mingled in the entryway, coffee cups in hand, and Rachel felt jealous.
    “Did you make plans to meet somewhere?” she asked, figuring that if Dorothy hadn’t there was no way she would find him in this crowd.
    “We’re meeting up by the Leica display.”
    The two of them pushed their way across the lobby to the vendors’ area, where they were promptly stopped by a beefy security guard.
    “No one’s allowed into the Nest until eleven o’clock,” he drawled. Laying on the Southern charm, he flashed a bright white smile and cocked his head.
    “But I’m supposed to meet someone inside.”
    “No one’s allowed, ” he repeated, crossing his arms and using his elbow-to-elbow girth to block the doorway.
    “Thanks,” said Rachel, pulling Dorothy aside.
    Dorothy started to protest.
    Rachel reasoned with her. “If we can’t get in, he can’t either. He did say nobody gets in.”
    “But the vendors can,” said Dorothy. “And I’ll bet the presenters can, too.”
    Rachel pondered, weighing the risks, and then said, “I know another way.”
    “How?”
    “Follow me, and try to act natural.” She guessed she had now assumed the mantle of accomplice. Flashing the security guard a smile, she led Dorothy past another set of locked double doors to a hallway on the right. “The public bathrooms are down this way, and there’s another entrance to the vendors’ area,” she said in a hushed voice. “That entrance can’t be locked off. Let’s hope it’s not guarded.”
    The entrance to the bathroom was halfway down the hall. Rachel glanced around to make sure no one had followed them, then scurried past the doorway to the ladies’ room. At the end of the hallway, a moveable wall blocked the entry to the vendor’s area.
    “Keep your eyes open,” said Rachel, leaning her shoulder into the wall. It moved slightly, but took a second shove before sliding back far enough for Rachel to slip through. “The coast is clear,” she whispered.
    Dorothy slipped through behind her. “Push it back into place,” she whispered back, excitement tingeing her voice. “In case someone comes. I wonder if Guy was able to get in.”
    “Do you want me to wait here?” asked Rachel.
    “No,” said Dorothy, gripping her arm. “I want you to come with me.”
    The room was large, with no lights on and only a panel of windows along the back wall. In the twilight the cloth-draped displays looked like ghosts grouped for a photo shot. The two of them circled the lunch area, and headed toward the far wall. To the best of Rachel’s recollection, the Leica booth was near the windows, across from Beau and Reggie’s Birds of Prey display.
    “Guy?” Dorothy called out using a stage whisper.
    Rachel thought she heard a rustle. Was it was Saxby or one of Beau and Reggie’s birds? She braced for a scare.
    “Guy?” Dorothy called out again.
    There was another rustle, followed this time by what sounded like a struggle. Two angry voices conferred, but Rachel couldn’t make out the words.
    Dorothy stopped dead in her tracks.
    “Don’t stop now,” said Rachel. She was curious about the commotion. It sounded like two people wrestling in the next aisle.
    Dorothy may as well have been paralyzed. She stood stock-still, her hands clenched at her sides, her face a ghostly shade of white. Was she afraid she’d find Saxby in some sort of tryst? Not likely, based on the tone of the