“Isn’t that the idea?” His friend’s lips twisted into a strange grin. “You wrote this scene and now I’m allowing you to experience how the victim felt. You should thank me.” The compressor hummed and hissed as the nail gun fired.
Writhing in a world of pain as metal pierced his flesh, Jed staggered and held on to a doorframe. This couldn’t be happening. Surely his friend didn’t intend to kill him. He stared into dark menacing eyes, uncomprehending. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re not as good as you think you are, Jed.” His friend raised both eyebrows. “You have to experience pain to write about it. Shame it’s too late for you now. We both know how this story is going to end, don’t we?”
Dizzy, white spots danced in front of Jed’s vision, his fingers slipped on the doorframe and the sawdust-covered floor came up fast. The nails dug deep into his neck, and he cried out in agony. A metallic taste coated his tongue and each labored gasp sprayed the wooden floor with crimson droplets. As he dragged his heavy aching body toward the door, his hands slipped in the warm blood pooling around him. Footsteps, slow and deliberate came close behind him and he turned to look into the black eyes of a killer. In one last effort to stop this madness, he lifted his head, but his voice was less than a whisper. “Help me, somebody, help me!”
“What a fool you are.” The tip of the nail gun pressed against the base of Jed’s skull. “Not a soul knows we’re here.”
Twelve
Watching the guests milling around, Jenna glanced down at her iPad at the images from a list of driver’s licenses belonging to their suspects and tried to pick them out in the crowd. It was noisy as the conference guests moved from one session to another, everyone chatting and exchanging notes. Excitement hovered in the air and every person she looked at smiled at her as if they were on a secret mission and she’d become part of their team. The requests for people to come to reception repeated and when a cold blast came from the front door and two men walked inside shaking snow from their coats, she recognized them as Murphy Finnian, a literary agent, and Ike Turnage, an acquiring editor. She walked toward them. “I’d like to talk to both of you. Are you busy right now?”
“No, our next session starts at three.” Finnian removed his heavy coat. “Is there a problem?”
“This will be about Miss Storm.” Turnage pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of his ski jacket. He looked at Jenna. “Lead the way.”
“It’s all over the conference that the organizers are running a murder mystery competition.” Finnian raised an eyebrow as they rode up in the elevator. “It’s news to us if they have.”
Jenna rested one hand on the butt of her Glock and met his gaze. “I have no idea. I’m not involved in the conference.”
“So why do you want to speak to us?” Turnage unzipped his jacket and took his time removing it.
“I want to know people’s whereabouts last night, so we’ll be interviewing guests all day.” Jenna led the way into the suite and sent Finnian to a desk where Kane sat and sent Turnage to the space she’d chosen for herself. She turned as Kane stood and beckoned her and she followed him across the room out of earshot. “These two just came in together. So, find out what they were doing out in a blizzard.”
“Copy.” Kane glanced over at the two men and then moved his attention back to her. “I’ve spoken with Agnes. She repeated what we already knew. She spotted something in the pond. It was icing over. She didn’t notice anything out of place at all. No footprints. Zip. I’ve spoken to Sparks, the guy who keeps the pathways clear. He said the only thing he noticed was one of the logs had fallen out of the bin beside the door to Dakota Storm’s chalet. He put it back on the pile.” He smiled. “I’d bet that’s the wood the killer used to incapacitate Dakota Storm. We’ll have to go back and check it out. Sparks mentioned he clears the paths regularly, so we’ll be good to go when you’re finished here.”
Jenna nodded. “Okay. We’ll head out as soon as we’ve spoken to these two. I’m not planning on waiting and searching in the dark.”
“I’ll grab our bags from the truck on the way back.” Kane indicated with his chin toward the two men waiting patiently. “I hadn’t realized what a cutthroat
business publishing was. I had the idea it was kinda peaceful. You know, people living in their own worlds writing stories.”
“Oh, that part is.” Jenna smiled at him. “All the authors say that part is pure magic, but after the writing comes the hard work of getting the story to market. I’m just glad they share their stories. I sure do love a good book.”
“Me too.” Kane headed back to his desk.
Jenna sat down and opened her notebook. She looked at Turnage. “As you know, we asked everyone a few questions as they entered the halls earlier. We’re just following up on those people who are staying alone or had no witnesses to prove their whereabouts.”
“Okay.” Turnage gave her a confident smile, his overuse of cologne almost stifling, but better than the smell of damp clothes and sweat that seemed to hang around everyone. “I’m not in the habit of sharing accommodation when I’m away at these conferences. It can lead to misconceptions. Plus, I’d probably end up nursing someone who’d had too much to drink and was spending the entire night hanging over the toilet.” He leaned back in his chair. “Trust me, I’d rather be alone. As I told that officer,” he indicated to Wolfe, speaking to a woman at his desk, “I left the lodge after dinner and went to my chalet. I made some calls on the landline, drank a few glasses of wine, and went to bed around ten. I didn’t venture out until after breakfast.”
“Okay.” Jenna made notes to check the time of the calls made from Turnage’s room. “So, what made you venture out into a blizzard just before?”
“Oh, I made a huge purchase of books and had them signed by some of my favorite authors. I have a busy afternoon with interviews and I didn’t want to carry them around all day.” Turnage’s mouth turned up at the corners. “I took a chance and gave the authors my card. Any one of them would be a huge acquisition for my publisher. I admit to schmoozing as many authors as possible over lunch, and after, I took the books back to my cabin. I’m out in number thirty-eight. They did say they were clearing the pathways at lunchtime in case anyone wanted to return to their chalets and the man on his machine had just finished when I dashed back to my room.”
Jenna observed him. His overconfidence gave her concern. She’d seen too many killers, who’d convinced themselves they’d gotten away with a crime act in a similar manner. After making a note to check the CCTV footage to determine when he left the lodge, she lifted her gaze back to him. “And you met Mr. Finnian where exactly? I noticed you came in together just before.”
“He was coming from the parking lot and stopped to speak to me.” Turnage let out a long sigh. “He found an author with the next best thing and wanted to discuss it with me. That’s what agent’s do, Sheriff. They find suitable authors and send their work to me. We don’t want a one-book wonder. We want an author who can produce a string of bestsellers. It’s all about sales.”
“Interesting.” Jenna made a few more notes. “Thank you for your time. I think that will be all for now.”
“I can go?” Turnage gave her a rueful smile. “No handcuffs?” He stood and chuckled. “Now wouldn’t that have been a story to tell around the water cooler back at the office?”
Jenna closed her notebook and got to her feet. “Maybe next time.”
She walked him back to the elevator and waited for it to arrive before turning back in time to see Kane waving Finnian toward the door. As Finnian walked past her, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Finnian, where did you meet Mr. Turnage before you both came back to the lodge just before?”
“I ran into him on the pathway, as I was coming out of the parking lot.” Finnian’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “I had to go back to my SUV to look for a flash drive I’d mislaid.”