Free Death at the Trade Show: Target Practice Mysteries 3 by Nikki Haverstock Page A

dude?”
    We crossed the aisle, dodging a few people on the way. I looked over my shoulder to check that I was still in sight of the doorway to the room so Mary could find me.
    Loggin knelt down to roughhouse with Moo, rubbing him hard on the neck and tapping him. “Who’s a good dog? Who’s a good dog?”
    Moo was getting wound up and suddenly barked and spun in a circle, hitting Loggin in the side with his butt and sending Loggin down. Moo spun back the opposite direction and flopped across Loggin’s chest, causing him to grunt.
    I pulled back on Moo’s leash. “Get off. You okay down there?”
    He groaned and sat up. “My brothers would say that I picked a fight outside my weight class — Whoa!” He held up his hands and leaned away from Moo. “Dude, he’s growling.”
    “No!” I pulled on Moo’s leash. He seldom growled. I followed his stare toward the front of the trade show. From here, the white yeti was visible. “Oh, he’s not growling at you. He has an issue with that target thingy down there.”
    Loggin turned and looked down the aisle then patted Moo on the back before standing. “I feel you, Moo. Karma will get you.” He looked at me. “Have you been to the tournament? Do you know about Karma the yeti?”
    I shook my head.
    “Karma is the last target on the range: really tricky shot, hundred and twenty yards over a ravine. It’s always windy with an updraft. So you’ll be shooting great then hit that target and everything goes wrong. Everyone says ‘Karma will get you’ whenever you start bragging about how great you’re shooting. Hey, you should come this year and bring Minx.”
    “Bring Minx where?” said Mary from behind me.
    I stepped aside to let her join the conversation and answered her question. “Red Bluff Safari to shoot Karma.”
    “If you’re going, then I’m going.” Mary nodded her head at the statement of fact.
    “Like I’m ready to jet off to tournaments alone. Isn’t the Red Bluff Safari a compound thing?”
    Loggin shrugged. “Kinda. Most people that shoot it use a compound, but you could do it with your recurve. What is the longest distance and target that you guys shoot?”
    I turned to Mary, waiting for her to answer. “Seventy meters at a hundred-and-twenty-two-centimeter target.”
    Loggin stared at her for a few counts then hesitantly asked, “Uh, how far is that?”
    “About seventy-seven yards at a four-foot target. Or three quarters of a football field at a target this tall.” She raised her hand to about bra level.
    Loggin nodded. “If you can do that, then you can totally shoot Red Bluff Safari. I’ll come and help get you ready.”
    Mary gasped as an idea hit her. “You know what would help us? Have you heard anything about the guy that died in the hotel? Cash?”
    “Dude, that’s so crazy. A lot of people have been talking about it. Cold was his videographer after his original guy backed out—did some of the filming and editing. Moose was talking about it, too. He used to work with Cash but had some falling out. As soon as Moose said that, Cold suddenly started backpedaling about working with Cash. Like, ‘Yeah, I knew there was something off about the guy,’ when a few seconds before he had called Cash a ‘smart businessman.’ I just stayed quiet.”
    Loggin looked over each shoulder then leaned in and lowered his voice. “The egos can be a bit crazy. I’ve got great coworkers, though.”
    Mary was nodding along. “Did the Andersson employees say anything about Cash?”
    “Not really.” He shook his head. “Except… you know, one of the guys said that they were steering clear of him. Said something was off. He’s dead now, so they dropped the topic pretty quick. Minx told me that you guys have been solving murders. Are you on the case again?”
    I chuckled. “You’ve been talking to Minx, eh?”
    “Yeah, been texting here and there.” He looked over my shoulder and nodded. “Sorry, I gotta jet and help a customer. I’ll