“Well,” Bob said, carefully. “I think he was probably thinking that he out-weighed you by a good eighty or ninety pounds.”
“I suppose that must be it,” Barb said, pleasantly. “Isn’t there supposed to be a martial arts demonstration tomorrow?”
“Yesss…” Bob said.
“I don’t suppose Larry’s going to be attending?” she added, sweetly.
“Why?” Bob asked.
Barbara considered the question, then lifted into the air in the Dance of the Swallow, carefully missing Bob with all five strikes, then ruffling his hair before she hit the ground. The large man had barely been able to take a defensive stance before she landed on her feet and bowed mockingly.
“Because if he had decided that it was okay to hit a lady, that would have been… interesting,” Barb said, bowing again and then turning and walking away.
Chapter Twelve
What do you know about Kay Goldberg?” Barbara asked Greg as they were having dinner the next morning. She’d gone back to bed after the interesting talk the previous night and she tactfully didn’t mention that Janea had come in just after dawn. Or that Greg had a hickey on his neck.
Through the window of the restaurant she could still see the snow coming down. Conditions had come together to create the perfect snowfall and they were already closing roads all over Roanoke. Everyone assured her that they’d be open by Monday and they wouldn’t get stuck over in the hotel. But she was glad she was inside; it was seriously snowing.
“Not much,” Greg said, yawning and then taking a sip of coffee. “Why?”
“She knows about Special Circumstance,” Barb said, as soon as Janea had taken a sip of coffee. The dancer didn’t quite spit it out.
“What?” they both said, simultaneously.
“What I said,” Barbara replied. “And she’s got a background. At a guess, Shin Bet or Mossad.”
“You’re kidding,” Greg said. “She’s a sports writer who does some mystery. She’s from Charlotte.”
“She lives in Charlotte,” Barb said. “I live in Mississippi. I’m not from Mississippi. Five gets you ten Goldberg’s not her real name. And she’s a… what’s that term Daddy uses? Oh, she’s a player. Or she was. She’s going to give us a list of potential suspects sometime today. She knew I was with Janea, and you, and she knew my last name. I didn’t give it to her, I hadn’t mentioned it in public except to check in. But she knew it. What does that tell you?”
“Interesting,” Greg said, getting over his shock. “Do you think she has any connection to the investigation?”
“I hope not,” Barbara said. “Because I told her about it. I wouldn’t have if I had the slightest thought she did. I wanted to know if she had any ideas. All she said was that she knew a lot about her fans and would give us a list of potential suspects. You probably should have talked to her directly.”
“I might,” Greg said, thoughtfully. “After I call the Bureau.”
Not having anything else to do after breakfast, Barbara wandered back to the Dealers’ Room. She wandered over to the sword dealer’s booth but he was with a customer.
“I’d like to apologize for yesterday,” she said to the man when the customer had wandered away with a bag full of leather stuff she wasn’t willing to admit she recognized.
“It’s not problem,” he said, smiling. He was wearing contacts that made his eyes black except for silver irises. They were truly bizarre. “I get migraines sometimes, too. They can come on really quick. My name’s Mack, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Barb said, smiling back. “I did feel I needed to apologize, though. I almost dropped the sword.”
“Not even close,” Mack said. “More like you couldn’t let it go.”
“It’s a beautiful sword,” Barbara said. “And you do very good work. Take care.”
“You too, God lady,” Mack said.
“Why do you say that?” Barb said, pausing as she was about to leave.
“It’s nice to meet a Christian lady that’s not a Bible-thumper,” Mack said, smiling. “But you wear it like a skin.”
“Oh,” Barbara said, puzzled. “Well, thank you.”
She continued around the circuit of the room and saw the brunette from the night before sitting at her book booth reading.
“Hello,” Barb said. “We never really got introduced. That’s a lovely blouse, by the way, it really goes well with your eyes.”
“Thanks,” the woman said, tilting her head to the side and smiling at Barbara. “I’m Candice.”
“I enjoyed last night,” Barb said, a crease appearing in her forehead. “The conversation was interesting.”
“You should have stuck around,” Candice said. “Folsom was really depressed when you left. You were the perfect lady for him.”
“I’m married,” Barbara pointed out, again.
“So is he,” Candice said, frowning. “Not very happily, but… Anyway, his thing is he likes to find… how’s he put it? ‘The best looking, least available, woman at the con and monopolize her.’ ”
“I’m not the best looking woman at the con,” Barb said.
“No,” Candice said, “there’s a redhead wandering around who’s really spectacular. But she looks… more available. And you’re probably next and you’re not. And he’s not by any stretch boring to be around. I was once one of the ladies he monopolized and it was an interesting night.” She saw Barbara’s face and sighed. “Talking. We stayed up all night, in a public place, talking.”
“He certainly seems popular,” Barb admitted.
“And he got that way fast,” Candice said, gesturing at a bookshelf. “From nobody to best-selling with multiple books out in less than three years. The term ‘phenomenon’ comes to mind. He just says he made a deal with the devil.”
“Deal with the devil?” Barbara asked, her eyes wide.
“It’s an expression,” Candice replied, shrugging. “Actually, Pier is very good with promoting new authors. And he’s a good writer.”
“I’ve got… things to do,” Barb said. “Besides sitting out in the cold. Although… it was interesting.”
“Folsom’s very good at holding court,” Candice said. “He even puts up with Baron when everybody wants to strangle him or at least ask him to get to the point. He even puts up with Mandy when you want to stuff a sock in her mouth.”
“I met Mandy last night, too,” Barbara said, pausing. “She had a lovely skirt.”
“Yes, she did,” Candice said, her eyes crinkling. “And you always compliment people.”
“It takes nothing and makes people’s lives a bit brighter,” Barb said. “You can always find something to compliment in a person, even if it’s their shoelaces.”
“I’m not that nice,” Candice admitted. “In fact, I’m not nice at all.”
“Yes, you are,” Barbara said, definitely. “Or, rather, you may not be nice but you are anything but bad or evil.”
“I’m all bad,” Candice said, smiling.
“You’re lying, too,” Barb replied. “There’s not a touch of evil to you.”
“You don’t know me very well,” Candice said, shaking her head.
“You’d be surprised,” Barbara contradicted. “You’ve had a rough life, you’ve got quite a few people you’d be happy to see dead. But you’ve never actually tried to arrange it. And you didn’t tell Baron to shut up or at least get to the point. Which a less nice person would have done. What happens within your mind and soul is not the definition of your personal evil.”