AllFreeNovel
Share Us
?The statuesque woman gave me a dismissive glance.
?“My full name is Hypatia Norris,” she offered, with a throaty voice. “But John likes to call me Hypno—”
?“Or sometimes just ‘Hips,’” John snorted. “She helps me out. Couldn’t run the place without her.”
?“You couldn’t find your dick without me,” Hypno mocked with a smirk as she put the bin behind the table.
?“This is Mark Watkins.”
?Hypno turned, and a broad smile grew on her face. “Oh, you’re Mark Watkins.” She looked like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “Glad to meet you.”
?I was surprised by the sudden shift in attitude. “Uh, thanks.”
?John said, “I’m loaning him the Calabash for his speech.”
?Hypno nodded and looked at me solemnly, and without a word, she reached into a bin and brought out the same pipe. “Take this one instead,” she said as she held it out. For some reason, she seemed exceptionally pleased with herself, as I reached out and took it. “But don’t lose it. It is a very expensive pipe.”
?“I’ll be careful, thanks,” I acknowledged. I turned it over and noticed a small red “X” on the bottom. I considered pointing this out to Hypno but decided she chose one that was damaged or something.
?She returned the other Calabash to the display stand by picking it up with tissue paper.
?“Gotta keep it clean,” she noted, and wiped her hands with the tissue. “I’ve been picking up these bins from the loading dock.”
?“Oh, of course,” I said.
?“Yeah, this is a nice place,” John disclosed, “but the ballroom loading dock is way down a long hallway.”
?“Which is not very clean,” Hypno pointed out.
?I nodded. “I’ll bring the pipe back after my speech.”
?John shook his head. “Sales floor closes when you start. Bring it back tomorrow when you come for the book signing. You’ll be right over there.”
?He indicated a booth in the corner. It was empty now, except for a table and chairs. But there was a hanging sign that read: Author Signing.
?“Oh, great. Well, nice meeting you, John, and…uh…Hypno.”
?She raised an eyebrow and went back to work.
?“Yeah, good luck with that speech,” John declared with a wave to me and a sidelong look to the woman.
?I wandered up the next aisle past a booth filled with jewelry. There was a display of “Elfin” necklaces, which I guessed were for the phenomenon known as “Cosplay,” though I did wonder what it had to do with a mystery conference.
?“See anything you like?” the proprietor asked, as he looked at me through a pair of glasses that made his eyes look huge from the magnification. He was a rotund man with a bushy beard and a waxed mustache that would have made him a terrific Santa Claus, except that his hair was flaming red.
?“Just looking for now,” I deflected, and turned my attention to a display case filled with cameos imbued with silhouettes of famous detectives and celebrities crafted by the hand of a skilled jeweler. Next to it was a row of inexpensive ones that appeared to be copies made in China for a much smaller price.
?There were a few Holmesian cameos, another I immediately recognized as Alfred Hitchcock, and finally a striking image of Edgar Allen Poe.
?“Nice,” I admired, indicating the cameos.
?“Yeah, the cheap ones are the biggest sellers at this conference,” the man griped. “Hey, aren’t you Mark Watkins?”
?“Yes.”
?“Saw your photo in the program. You’re the lecturer tonight,” he said. “I’m Norm Blake.”
?He adjusted the fisheye lens on his face and looked at my badge, just as a skinny, long-haired blond man walked up with a plastic bin, which he stuck under the table.
