Death at the Summit by Nikki Haverstock

toward the dining area, we spotted Bucky alone. Sneaking Moo in, we headed over to Bucky.
    “Hi, Bucky, right?” I extended my hand. “I’m Di, and this is Mary. We work here at the Westmound Center. Is there anything I can get you?”
    He stood to shake my hand then introduced himself to Mary before sitting back down and shaking his head.
    “Do you mind if we sit? We heard about the fight you had with Mac and thought you might want to…” I purposely trailed off then sat quietly, looking at him. I was hoping that he would feel compelled to defend himself.
    Bucky’s mouth pursed up, his cheeks puffed out, then he blew out a hard breath. “You have to understand, I am thrilled to work for Westmound. Elizabeth and the whole company have been great. My issue is not with them.”
    Mary and I both nodded while I said, “Of course, understandable,” in what I hoped was a great impression of understanding.
    He looked between Mary and me as we nodded, then he continued. “That being said, I will never forgive Mac for what he did. That is not what this industry is about. Cheating, deception, and cutthroat practices have no place here. We are about honesty, family, and community.”
    I nodded while frantically trying to figure out how to get him to explain without breaking our bluff. “Do you want to tell us, in your words, what happened?”
    His face was red, and the muscles in his jaw flexed. He stared intently at the table until, in a rush, he started talking. “Remember when the bowhunter division rules were changed suddenly eight years ago?”
    I didn’t know what the bowhunter division meant beyond the fact that in tournaments, a “division” meant a class in competition that was defined by what equipment was used in the tournament. I certainly didn’t know about rule changes.
    Mary took over. “Yes, though the details are a bit fuzzy right now.”
    He swung around to her, raking a hand through his hair, then undid the top button on his shirt, which had been straining again his throat. “Most of my sales were from archers competing in the bowhunter division. We had a brand-new line coming out that met the current rules at great expense to the company. Then suddenly, two months before the competition season, the rules committee announced a change to rules regarding sights in the bowhunter division. Suddenly, my entire line of products was not allowed. But guess what company had just launched several new lines of sights that just happened to meet the new rules?”
    “MacSights,” Mary and I said in unison.
    “Yep, you got it. It was too close to the season to get out any new products, and our sales essentially went to zero overnight. There was no way to recover. Rather than firing my employees, I sold to Westmound. I don’t regret that choice, but I regret having to make the choice at all. Mac deserved all that he got and more. If life was fair, he would have been forced to sell his company to Westmound, but instead, he got to decide when and how to sell his company.”
    “So you think he had some hand in changing the rules?” I needed to make sure I understood rather than just assuming.
    He slammed his palm down hard on the table, making both Mary and me jump. “Of course! Don’t be naïve. He bribed or blackmailed them. I heard the three members of the committee went hunting with Mac for years. I think a couple of the members resigned shortly afterward. I wasn’t the only company that was upset about the rule changes but I was affected the most. We rallied and protested. The rule was eventually modified, but by then, all the archers had bought new equipment from MacSights, and I was in the hole so far that I could never crawl out.”
    Mary shook her head. “That’s not right.”
    “No, it’s not right. People shouldn’t be able to win when they are cheaters. And I told him as much today. He just laughed at me. It took everything in me not to punch him.” His voice was rising with each sentence.