Killer Run by Lynn Cahoon Page A

other man leaned forward. “I hope that won’t happen next year.”
    Darla nodded, but I’d had enough. “Look, we didn’t even know that we were supposed to set up an opening party. Remember? We didn’t get the book until today. I’m sure your friends can understand missing out on one party in a year.”
    â€œMiss Gardner, there’s no need to be rude. We’ve apologized for the lack of communication, and Michael has assured us this won’t be an issue going forward.” Adam glanced at the other man and he leaned back.
    Now I got it. They’d brought Michael along to be their fall guy. So sorry the dead girl screwed up your race. Just promise to be better next year. I felt sorry for him. First, he lost his wife, and now these jerks were making him pander for his company’s future. I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I responded. “We have the book, and we’ll get back to you soon about dates for next year’s race. I have to clear this with the business council and evaluate the advantages to the South Cove community. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
    Three heads shook across the table, and I realized our meeting was over. They’d tried to strong-arm us into feeling bad about the missteps for this year’s race, but the only one I saw who got hurt was their list of possible customers who’d signed up the day of the race and weren’t in their promotional machine now. They needed us, no matter what the notebook said.
    â€œWe’ll be back in touch.” I didn’t stand as I watched the three men load up their briefcases and leave the conference room. After I was sure they were in the parking lot, I turned toward Darla. She was staring at me like I’d grown a third head.
    â€œLook, you did an amazing job with the race. I’m sorry they didn’t say that.” I patted the notebook in front of me. “We need to look this over and see if we want to play by their rules for next year. Is it worth jumping through the Society’s hoops to sponsor this race? Besides, Mary needs time to summarize the numbers for the town. Then we’ll present our findings to the committee.”
    â€œYou’d walk away from sponsoring the Mission Walk? Even though our participation might help with the final decision from the historical commission?” Darla shook her head. “We need to support your wall.”
    â€œNot if it means working with jerks like that.” I shook my head. “Can you believe they brought in the grieving widower to apologize for their screwup?”
    â€œClassy, right?” Darla sipped her coffee. “But it does tell us one thing.”
    I stood, my notebook in hand. “What’s that?”
    â€œPromote Your Event wasn’t in the best shape as a company when Sandra was alive. Who knows what will happen to their business now that she’s dead.”
    I thought about Darla’s statement as I drove in to Bakerstown to pick up paint. Knowing the part-time reporter’s nose for a good scandal, I wondered how someone would find out about the health of a privately held company.
    â€œNot your monkey, not your circus,” I muttered as I turned into Home Heaven’s parking lot. I was pretty sure I could hear laughter coming from my conscience.

CHAPTER 8
    A fter unloading the paint and supplies, I left them in my laundry room and headed upstairs to start clearing out the boxes and crap that had taken over the room I now called Project Guest Room.
    I’d almost gotten all the boxes sorted into three piles: trash, give away, and attic. Glancing at the piles, I wondered if my attic pile was too large. I still had boxes from high school and from when I’d cleaned out my mother’s house after her death seven years ago. I still hadn’t heard from Greg, and it was beginning to worry me. Even on big cases, he tended to check in either by stopping by