Death Indoors: Target Practice Mysteries 4 by Nikki Haverstock Page B

tournaments they attend, and if they're willing to work in the booth. Maybe give them a little speech about 'this isn't free stuff, you have to work for it by helping to sell products.' And tell them that if they get sponsorship deals, then they better behave. I've had the job of pro-staff coordinator for less than a month, and already everyone's got me on speed dial to complain and report about every single thing that one of our archers does or says or posts."
    I nodded along. That seemed simple enough.
    Jess checked her watch. "Let me go tell everyone before they leave breakfast. Then I need to go coach. Minx, you should head over."
    "Good luck, Princess." Minx ruffled my hair as she went by, while Loggin followed behind her.
    "Liam, how long were you thinking per person? I'll pull together a schedule real quick for you."
    I passed the notebook over to Jess with a pen, and she flipped open to a blank page and uncapped a thick-tip felt marker that I'd brought.
    "How many kids are there?"
    "Uh..." She tapped the end of the pen against her teeth. "Five? Six? I think."
    Liam turned toward the clock on the wall. "Di needs to warm up before lunch, so this can't run over. Can you tell them fifteen-minute time slots but schedule them in twenty-minute slots so we can chat between them? We can start at the top of the hour. Please, make sure they know this is just a practice run."
    Jess jotted down a few notes in the corner of the notebook. "Got it. I'll be back in a few minutes." She bounded away.
    "You decided to help me investigate?" I slapped my thigh, and Moo came around Liam to wedge between us. I leaned over to kiss the top of his fuzzy head.
    "Jess looked bummed out, plus it might be fun to see you do your Miss Marple impression. Did Miss Marple have a sidekick?"
    I scrunched up my face, trying to remember the last time I read a book featuring one of Agatha Christie's famous amateur sleuths. "I don't think so." I grabbed the remainder of my orange juice and sucked it down.
    "There wasn't a horny old man down the street?"
    I snorted the orange juice out my nose in shock. I grabbed a napkin and coughed heavily into it. Liam was full of surprises. When I caught my breath, I looked at him.
    "Sorry about that. You okay?" He thumped my back.
    "Ya, ya, I'm fine. Geez, don't surprise me like that." I cleared my throat again and took a sip of water.
    He had an innocent expression on his face. "Just asking about Miss Marple."
    I studied his face, then he gave me a wicked smile that made my stomach flip. I reached up and felt the necklace he had given me, running my fingers over the pendant that proved he was paying close attention to what I cared about. "If you are looking for that kinda thing, then we could check out Miss Fisher." I dropped the name of a racier detective show I had recently discovered.
    "Sounds interesting." The purple smudges had grown into two black eyes, but still he was the handsomest man I'd ever known.
    Across the dining room, the volume levels were steadily rising. Kids and parents looked excited, and they were casting glances in our direction. My elation at flirting with Liam turned to wet panic at the fact that I was supposed to conduct the mock interviews. "What do I say to these kids?"
    "When Orion got you the paperwork for the Westmound sponsorship, didn't he go over expectations?"
    "A little bit. We'll be promoting the brand through the blog I set up, plus professional conduct at tournaments. I'm expected to be familiar with not only the products that I use but other products so I can answer questions. I'm expected to help out at the product booths if they need me to at tournaments. Plus anything else they need. Orion mentioned in passing that the expectations for me would be different since I work here and am not a pro or high-level shooter like most of their contracts."
    Liam nodded along. "You have the general idea. Sponsorship deals aren't about giving away free stuff, like Loggin said. The archer's job