I quickly found the booth I sought and introduced myself to one of the salespeople, a curly-headed young woman whose name tag read Carol Seiler. We soon discovered that we had mutual librarian friends in Texas and chatted away. She introduced me to several of her coworkers, and we discussed some of the particulars of the Athena College account.
While we talked I became aware of two women, both strangers who appeared to be in their late seventies, at least. They stood nearby, perhaps seven or eight feet away, staring at me. I glanced sideways several times and saw them whispering to each other, and twice one of the women pointed in my direction. I realized I had lost the thread of the conversation with Carol and her coworkers and made an effort to ignore the women.
Why were they staring and pointing at me? I wondered while I listened to Carol’s remarks about a new product. Different visitors to the booth claimed the other salespeople’s attention, but Carol continued her conversation with me. I made an effort to listen and comment intelligently, but at the back of my mind I was stewing over the behavior of those two women.
When I allowed myself a quick sideways glance in their direction, I saw that they were no longer nearby. I wanted to turn around and look for them, but I couldn’t be that rude. Carol, however, noticed my distraction.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “Something seems to be bothering you.”
I hesitated before I answered. “Well, actually, there is. Did you happen to notice those two women who hovered nearby for a few minutes? They seemed to be staring and pointing at me, and I don’t know why.”
Carol shook her head. “No, sorry, I didn’t notice them. Perhaps they were waiting to speak with you but didn’t want to interrupt.”
I shrugged. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose they’ll track me down at some point.” I thanked her for her time, and she gave me her business card. I tucked it into my jacket pocket, wished her a good day, and wandered down the row to survey the other booths.
At the end of the row I paused at the exhibitor’s table and picked up a brochure that touted their databases, all designed for general academic libraries. I asked a few questions, received a free thumb drive and a couple more brochures, then rounded the corner to go down the next aisle.
I ran right into the two women who only a little while ago had been watching me and whispering to each other. “Sorry,” I said with a brief smile. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
One of the women uttered a muted shriek and stepped back, while the other stared at me with avid interest. I would have sworn she licked her lips before she said, “If you’re the one who killed that obnoxious Gavin Fong, I’d like to shake your hand.”
EIGHTEEN
For a moment I was too taken aback to do anything other than stare blankly at the two women. Then the bizarre nature of the situation struck my often quirky sense of humor, and I was hard put not to laugh.
Instead I said, “Ma’am, I’d be happy to shake your hand, but it would be under false pretenses. I didn’t kill Gavin Fong.”
The woman who shrieked a moment ago eyed me with suspicion. When she spoke, her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and I had to strain to hear her. “Are you sure? I could have sworn someone told me you were the man who beat him up Thursday and nearly put him in the hospital.”
The woman who had offered to shake my hand glared at her companion. “What idiot told you that, Ada Lou? You saw that jerk Fong at the luncheon yesterday. Did he look like he’d been beaten up anywhere near bad enough to be in the hospital?”
“Well, no, Virginia, I guess not.” Ada Lou looked confused.
“Of course not,” Virginia snapped. “We were sitting a couple of tables away from him, and he didn’t look like—or move like—a man who’d been beaten, did he?”
“I already said he didn’t, Virginia,” Ada Lou said. “I wish you wouldn’t keep on at me like that. My eyesight is better than yours. I could see that table a lot better than you, in fact. I was looking straight at him most of the time, and that man who was sitting next to him. You’re the one who complained that there was a real big head in the way when you tried to look.”
“Well, there was a big head,” Virginia said. “You were sitting right there. Surely you could see a head that big for yourself, if your eyesight is as good as you keep saying it is.”
By now several people had paused to eavesdrop on this peculiar conversation, and I was ready to move on before it became even more bizarre. While Virginia and Ada Lou continued to bicker, apparently having forgotten about me, I sidled away. I was curious about why Virginia hated Gavin Fong enough to want to shake my hand, but for the moment, I decided, finding that out could wait. I could always track them down later. In a group this size it shouldn’t be that hard.
Perhaps my encounter with Virginia and Ada Lou had made me abnormally sensitive, but as I continued to make my way through the exhibits and speak occasionally to vendors, I felt the weight of numerous gazes directed my way. Was I imagining this, or were the starers all thinking I killed Gavin Fong?
I probably had Maxine Muller to thank for this, I decided. I recalled that she had accused me of murder to Kanesha Berry. She must have been busy spreading the word at the conference. I grew increasingly uncomfortable in the exhibit hall and decided I’d had enough.
I walked out of the ballroom into the foyer and found a secluded spot behind a pillar near a wall. A check of my watch informed me that I had twenty minutes before my panel started. I debated whether to abandon it and head home for the rest of the day. I knew Lisa Krause would be disappointed in me, not to mention angry, for doing so, and I told myself I had to tough it out.
Being the center of attention had never appealed to me, although a few times I had done stupid things that briefly put me right in the limelight. The two times I knocked down Gavin Fong were prime examples. I wouldn’t describe myself as self-effacing, exactly, but neither did I seek out attention for the sake of being noticed and puffing up my ego. I preferred getting on with my life without most of the world around me paying any attention.
Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself. This will all pass over as soon as Kanesha solves the case, and all these people will forget who you are. I could almost hear my late wife, Jackie, and my aunt Dottie telling me that in unison.
Still, I continued to feel a bit nervous. After a brief visit to the restroom I made my way to the room where my panel on cataloging would start in about five minutes. The previous session ended at ten fifteen, but people lingered near the front of the room. I went around the chairs on one side of the room and reached the front. A young man took away the name cards on the table and replaced them with those of the members of the cataloging panel.
I felt a slight jolt when I spotted one with Gavin Fong’s name on it. Evidently the young man didn’t realize Fong wouldn’t be attending. I wondered whether I should remove it but decided that I would let someone else do it if they wanted to. Even without a name card I knew Gavin’s presence would probably be felt. Given the incendiary tenor of the opening remarks to his keynote speech yesterday, I felt reasonably sure he would have expressed opinions on cataloging that would have angered the audience today. Had he lived long enough to finish his remarks at the luncheon, he likely would have faced a roomful of angry librarians.
As I waited for the other members of the panel to make themselves known, I speculated whether Gavin’s attitude toward his profession could have anything to do with his murder. I didn’t take it seriously as a motive, but it could be a contributing factor, of a sort. Maybe when I got home later this afternoon I would do a little digging, check out some of Gavin’s publications, to find out whether he had expressed these provocative opinions in professional journals.