Nerds Who Kill: A Paul Turner Mystery Read Online Free PDF

price, you can tell. The fancy ones have irons and ironing boards in the room, and the fanciest ones have those thick, fuzzy bathrobes.”
    “Ain’t never been in a place with all that.”
    “Me neither, but I was told.”
    Fenwick plopped down on one of the easy chairs. He said, “I know where they scrimped on money. This thing has no bounce.” He thumped the cushion under his butt. “This does not qualify as comfy.”
    “I’ll call the Zagat guide.”
    Sanchez escorted Oona Murkle into the room. As she sat down, she said, “Something has happened. The police don’t keep a presence this long unless something is very wrong. I know it’s bad.”
    Turner said, “I’m sorry. Ms. Devers is dead.”
    Ms. Murkle put a hand to her throat and gave a small gasp. “How can that be? She was so vibrant and alive. I talked with her at breakfast. She was. She was …” She gasped again. She began to cry. Turner found the tissue container in the bathroom, pulled out a neat handful, and put them within her reach.
    Turner and Fenwick let her take as long as she needed to compose herself. Some minutes later, she asked, “What on earth happened? I know she wasn’t ill. She’d have told me. Was it a heart attack?”
    “She was murdered,” Fenwick said.
    “No.” Ms. Murkle’s eyes shifted from Fenwick to Turner and back. “That is not possible. She was kindness itself. Everybody loved her. She went out of her way for everybody. It was a coup for the convention to get her as the guest of honor. It’s one of the reasons we had a record number of people in attendance. We got Muriam on board early. Once she was in, it was easier to get others interested. It began to snowball. Eventually everybody who’s anybody wanted to be here. She only went to a select few events. When she did attend, she always had time for everyone. Her fans loved her. She always took extra time with them. Always. She was never rude. She was just … she was just …” She dabbed at her eyes. “She was my friend.” She used a tissue to dab at fresh tears.
    Turner and Fenwick waited patiently. When she was composed, Turner said, “We’re sorry to have to ask you questions at such a difficult time, but the first few hours of a case can be vital.”
    She nodded.
    Turner asked, “Can you remember the exact time you last saw her?”
    “Let me see.” She thought. “About nine. She had an enormous line of fans waiting to have their books signed. You know how some authors don’t like it if fans bring more than one book? Muriam didn’t mind. If you had one, some, or all of her books, she was flattered. So many authors get offended if fans want to chat. She always smiled for the photographs. She left people thinking she had all the time in the world just for them. She didn’t even mind if people disturbed her for an autograph while she was having a meal. That’s supposed to be forbidden. People can be so rude. But she didn’t mind.”
    “Do you know of any problems she might have had lately?” Turner asked. “Fights or disagreements with anyone?”
    “I don’t know of any problems. She never fought with anyone. A large crowd of us had dessert in her suite last night after all the activities were over. It was a very informal get-together. We had room service deliver the house specialty, these most exquisite chocolate confections.”
    “We’ll need a list of those people,” Fenwick said. “We’ll probably have to get all their fingerprints, too.” With any luck, the results would match any the killer left.
    “Did anyone act oddly at this meeting?” Turner asked. “Do something out of character? Have any disagreements?”
    “Everyone was friendly and happy. The convention got off to a smashing start. Muriam was a delight. She talked about the new book she was starting.”
    Turner asked, “Did she ever seem suicidal, severely depressed?”
    “I thought you said murder.”
    “We have to check all the possibilities,” Turner