Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

THE STRETCH LIMO arrived at the office exactly at ten, as specified in the contract. Marple slid in first, followed by her partners.

“So bourgeois, ” said Holmes, settling awkwardly against the plush leather.

“An underpowered coffin,” muttered Poe.

“Oh, will you two stop whining?” said Marple. She was excited about this event and not about to let these spoilsports dampen her spirits. The limo pulled away from the curb and headed for Manhattan.

Holmes stared out the tinted side window. “Let’s hope nobody else gets kidnapped while we’re on this lark.”

“By the way,” said Marple, “I have a call in to Scotland Yard about their kidnappings. Maybe we can compare notes with their team.” After a long search, Virginia had finally located a promising contact, a young London constable named Ben Dodgett who seemed willing to assist them. Marple hoped to help him unlock the London investigation, which in turn might unlock their own one.

“How long did you say this event will be?” asked Poe, drumming his fingers on an armrest.

“There’s a panel discussion, then lunch,” said Marple brightly. “Maybe a little mix and mingle too.”

“I trust we’re being compensated,” said Holmes.

“Yes, and quite nicely,” said Marple. “I’ve already donated it to the Friends of Firefighters.”

“Margaret. Really? ” said Holmes. “A little consultation would be nice.”

“Well, it never hurts to be on the good side of the fire department.”

The limo soon eased through Times Square and pulled up in front of the hotel. Marple saw a skinny young man with an iPad and a headset pacing anxiously on the sidewalk. The instant the limo rolled to a stop, he hurried over and pulled open the rear door.

“Hey, guys. Glad you’re here,” he said. He was talking very fast, and his forehead was shiny with perspiration. “I’m Adam, from the events office. Sorry to rush you, but we had to move your panel up. You’re on in”—he glanced at his watch—“five minutes.”

“What happened to the schedule?” asked Holmes.

“You won’t believe it,” said Adam. “John Grisham cancelled at the last minute. Totally out of character. He’s usually so reliable.”

Poe frowned. “So it takes three of us to make up for one of him?”

“Be quiet,” said Marple, pushing him out of the car. “Just go.”

Adam led the way through the main entrance and then through a back hallway to a service elevator, muttering anxiously into his headset the whole time. After a short, smooth ride, the doors opened onto a backstage space filled with folded banquet tables and extra PA equipment.

Marple peered through a gap in the curtains isolating the backstage area and saw a brightly lit dais facing a huge ballroom. It looked like every seat in the audience was filled, and the place was buzzing.

When they approached the few steps leading up to the stage, Adam stopped and adjusted his headset. “Hold here,” he said, lifting his hand. “They’re introducing you right now.”

Marple heard the amplified clatter of fingers on a microphone. She saw a slender woman in a maroon business suit leaning over the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!” As the woman waited for the audience to settle, she glanced quickly toward the wings. Adam gave her a thumbs-up. The woman turned back toward the ballroom and leaned into her introduction.

“As crime writers, we all know the names of our next panelists. I suspect that most of us grew up worshipping these names. But while many of you now solve crimes in make-believe, this team solves them in real life. I’m pleased to introduce three of New York’s most celebrated private investigators: Brendan Holmes, Margaret Marple, and Auguste Poe!”

The ballroom erupted in applause. Adam swept his arm toward the stage. Marple turned to her partners. “Remember,” she said, “this is supposed to be fun. And we could actually get some business out of it.”

At the last second, she reached up to fix Holmes’s necktie. “And you, my friend, might get a book deal.”