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?She walked out from behind the booth. “You wait right here,” she said, then added, “By the way, I’m Candy.”
?Thinking quickly, I said, “I’m sure you’re twice as sweet.” Then realized what a lame line it was.
?She giggled anyway. “You’ll just have to find out. Let me get Mr. Kane.”
?She traipsed off, and I realized that although her dress was long-sleeved and high-necked, it had a big circle open in the back exposing flawless skin. I also enjoyed the view of her active posterior as she sauntered away.
?“She’s quite a girl, don’t you think?” a man said to my left.
?I turned and my eyes found the speaker. He was above average height with a strong chin and receding hairline. A pair of half-glasses hung on his nose, and his Brooks Brothers suit and tie gave him an aura of success and competence.
?“Hmmm?” I said, and then glanced after Candy. “Oh yes, lovely young lady.”
?He reached out his hand, and I could see that he wore one of the badges for the conference. Each badge was color-coded, and his was a reddish tone that signified he was staff.
?“Charles Nederlander,” the man announced in a deep voice as I shook his hand. “I’m the president of the club. Been a big fan of mystery all my life.”
?“Are you a writer?”
?“Hell, no,” he conceded, “I’m a lawyer, but I admire writers and know how to put events together.”
?“Thanks for having me.”
?“My pleasure. My vice-president, Jon Kane, handles the talent,” he bragged. “Did you know Willow Rose is the Friday night speaker?”
?“How did you manage that?” I said, impressed. I loved her work.
?“Jon’s a miracle worker that way. I have to be honest. He told me that when he spoke to your agent, it didn’t look like you would do it.”
?I shrugged.
?“I’m glad,” he confirmed, and then looked past me. “Oh, Candy found Jon. I’ll let the two of you get acquainted.”
?Nederlander wandered off in the direction of the large convention room. I noticed that Candy watched him go, and I got the impression she didn’t care for him.
?I turned as the pair drew near. The man was taller than Charles, over six feet, thin, with curly black hair with white on his temples.
?“Mr. Watson?” he inquired.
?“Wat—kins,” I corrected.
?“Oh, sorry,” he apologized as he gave my hand a firm shake. “It’s just I’ve read your books—”
?“And you were convinced that I truly am John H. Watson, MD,” I said as I returned his grip. “Happens all the time.”
?“Of course. I’m Jon Kane.”
?“My agent told me to look for you.”
?“So glad you decided to join us,” Kane expressed and turned to Candy. “Could you get Mr. Watkins his package?”
?She gave a nod and, with a flirty wink to me, reached behind a counter.
?“I see you met Charles, the financial half of this endeavor,” Jon affirmed. “Don’t be surprised if he asks you to sign some of his books, which are all first-editions. Personally, I think that’s the only reason he’s involved—to increase the value of his own collection by bringing in his favorite writers.”
?Candy pulled out a large manila envelope, which she dutifully handed to me. She gave it to me and then rubbed my arm in a warm gesture as she spoke. “This contains your badge, your information, and your room keys—”
?“My room?” I was surprised. “But I only live—”
