Killer Run by Lynn Cahoon

of the table, pen in hand tapping her notebook.
    I dropped my notebook on the table next to her and went to pour myself a cup of coffee from the sideboard. When I sat down, I smiled and focused on the men across from us. “Good morning, everyone.”
    â€œWe can get started?” Adam raised his eyebrows. “Are you expecting anyone else?”
    Darla looked at me and we both shook our heads. “Nope. Just us.” I focused on Michael, trying to catch his attention, but his gaze was downcast to the empty legal pad in front of him. “I’m so sorry to hear about Sandra. If we need to, we can postpone this meeting.”
    Adam put his hand on Michael’s arm and patted exactly twice. “Well, yes, it’s a tragedy, but we are all in agreement that we need to close the books on the Mission Walk this week. No use wasting time, especially since we’re all here.”
    I sent Darla a can you believe this guy? look and then sipped my coffee. Darla stepped into the conversation. “So, what did you want to discuss? I don’t have final numbers from the businesses on the effect of the race on South Cove commerce, but all in all, I thought it was a very successful event.”
    Adam looked at the other man, and I saw him roll his eyes. “Well, in several ways, it was successful. We just have a few notes about improvements for next year.”
    â€œLike, maybe giving us your expectations before the day of the race?” The comment was out before I could temper it. Darla had worked her butt off for this group, and they were listing off the things we didn’t get perfect? Losers.
    Michael squirmed in his chair and Adam nodded. “Well, yes, we acknowledge that the communication between us got a little lost. But we’ve talked to Michael, and he assures us that this lapse will not happen again.”
    â€œSandra dropped the ball. She said she had talked to you and sent you the packet months ago.” Michael finally looked up at us, his eyes bloodshot. His hand shook as he picked up his coffee cup. “I’m sorry. I trusted her.”
    Darla fluttered next to me. “Oh, please, don’t worry about that now. It’s all water under the bridge. I’m sure maybe she thought she’d done her job.”
    Yeah, blame the dead for all the problems. I couldn’t help it, I was skeptical of Michael’s claim. The only time I’d met the woman, she’d seemed on top of things, controlling, and in charge. If anyone had forgotten to send us the packet, I was sure it was the male partner of Promote Your Event. But I kept my mouth shut.
    Adam continued, “So we’re willing to give South Cove another shot with a race next year as long as you assure us that the rules will be followed.” He handed out three-inch notebooks, one for each of us. “I’d like you to study the sections on fund-raising and race enrollment practices. This way, every racer is in our system days before the walk happens and can get updates from the Society on upcoming events they may be interested in attending.”
    Now I knew why they wanted only online registrations. It gave them a private mailing list for runners all over California. And I bet they didn’t feel bad about selling their lists to companies who catered to the running crowd.
    â€œSo, that’s it? We study the rules, promise to be good sponsors next year, and we’re guaranteed an annual race?” I wanted to be clear on what they were offering. And we’d have to clear the pros and cons with the Business-to-Business group before we agreed to another race. Mary Sullivan would be able to quantify the additional business the race brought to the town.
    â€œAlmost. We want to make sure that the sponsor party isn’t pulled together last-minute, like it was this year. We have a lot of prominent people who enjoy attending our race kickoffs who weren’t even invited this year.” The