LITMIR.BIZ

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have to wander the aisles of this menagerie for the next three days—maybe get carved up by a katliff or eaten by a Borne.

      On that gloomy note, she doggedly set out again, cruising the next aisle where a white furry creature sporting long tentacles on his-its head conferred with a pair of pointy-eared Vulcants. Matt had explained the difference between Vulcants and Reemulans. She felt proud of herself for remembering.

      Emboldened by her crash course, she smiled at the Vulcant and said conversationally, “Nice makeup job.”

      He stiffened and raised one eyebrow, inspecting her with disdain. “This is not ‘makeup,’ madam. The plastic surgeon charged me two thousand apiece to reshape my ears and a thousand for the rebrow work. I can assure you I am a true Vulcant,” he said in a cultivated voice.

      Sam nodded. “Whatever you say, mister.” Oops, did one call Vulcants mister?

      She scooted off fast, melting into the crowd but still feeling the Vulcant’s icy stare following her. I thought only Dobermans and boxers got their ears docked! She wondered if the surgeon had shortened a tail on the guy while he was busy cutting. This scenario was starting to get to her, but a job was a job. She had to find Farley and get him out of here before someone grafted a tentacle to him—or worse.

      “The only thing I can figure is that they registered under assumed names.” Ethan Frobisher’s voice came over the line sounding distinctly frustrated. He didn’t like coming up empty when he hacked. “No one named Farley Winchester or Elvis Scruggs is registered for the con.”

      Sam tapped her toe on the cement floor, trying to think while a kaleidoscope of creatures paraded by. Some sort of laser show complete with fake explosions vibrated through the huge center. She held her free hand over her opposite ear and spoke into her cell. “Is there an official convention hotel? From what I could see, there are a dozen places around here.”

      “That’s an easy one. The Holiday Inn Select and the Renaissance St. Louis Suites are both listed,” Fro replied, almost panting his pleasure at being able to supply an answer.

      If Sam had read the program closely, she could’ve found this out for herself, but she had to throw him a bone. “Say, Fro…you aren’t…naw, never mind.”

      “A Spacer?” he replied, figuring that was her question. “Yes, I really dig the shows, especially the original episodes. The science is weak, of course. Worf drive could never work that way, but the philosophical issues they explore—”

      “Uh, I know, Fro. Matt agrees with you.” The minute she said it, Sam could’ve bitten her tongue. She knew how jealous of her husband Ethan Frobisher had become. She didn’t need to rub salt.

      But he surprised her. “Way cool! I’m happy for you, Samantha. Sounds as if you found an intelligent guy after all.”

      On some issues. But she wasn’t about to discuss her and Matt’s divergence of opinion about Space Quest or her quest for Aunt Claudia’s money. She thanked him and signed off, then checked her program guide. The Holiday Inn was closer to the America’s Center, but the Renaissance offered more luxurious accommodations. Farley and Elvis would go for the high end.

      Loudspeakers were blaring that the con was closing for the night and lights were blinking the ten-minute warning. The crowd had thinned. Sam watched the swarms of what she’d loosely term humanity filing out of the big convention center. Other than the Confederation’s Earth officers, no one was even vaguely recognizable, thanks to latex masks, complexions dyed every hue from maroon to bright green, padded costumes, even additional appendages in some cases.

      “And let’s not forget the ones with antennae or wires,” she muttered. How the hell was she going to find Farley in the middle of the madness? She only had two more days.

      Then an idea hit her. The lure of a big payday always brought out a real creative streak. Sam walked into the warm evening air and headed to the parking lot to retrieve her van before that pit-stop pirate charged her for another day. By the time she reached the Econoline, the place was so deserted she could have heard a pin drop.

      But what she heard instead was the sound of footsteps dashing up behind her.

      Chapter 6

      She’d had to leave her .38 and the stun gun in the van because of metal detectors at the America’s Center. Damn! Sam whirled around, crouching, prepared to use fists and feet to do some serious hurt to her attackers. At the last second she pulled her punch. They were midgets, under four feet tall, and looked like oversize balls of brown cotton candy.

      “Sam, don’t you recognize us?” the taller of the two piped up as the smaller one behind her started jumping up and down, clapping her hands and asking, “What are you doing here?”

      Then Sam saw an adult figure puffing to catch up to them…as usual. “Jenny?” she asked incredulously, recognizing the voices of Jenny Baxter’s two daughters, Tiffany and Melanie. A plump woman dressed in one of those uncomfortable spandex suits complete with high jackboots and a fake weapon strapped to her waist, nodded.

      “Hi, Sam,” she said, tugging on the inseam of the unflattering pants as she drew near.

      Sam looked down at the taller kid swathed in what she could now see was brown fur. “Tiff?” Then turned to the littler one. “Mellie? What are you?”

      “Oh, you silly, what are you doing at a Space Quest con if you don’t know we’re Dribbles?” Mellie asked.

      “You know, the little furry animals that keep making more until Captain Turk’s ship is filled with them?” Tiff supplied in the same tone of voice that a person might use to explain why woodpeckers don’t like concrete posts.

      “And I’m Harriett Mudd, the lovable but unscrupulous space merchant who brought them aboard,” Jenny said brightly.

      Sometimes Sam thought Jenny’s voice was the only thing bright about her. “Uh, yeah, I get it. You’re big Spacer fans, right?” She groaned inwardly. On the case where she’d met Matt, Jenny and her two dragon kids had been nothing but trouble, nearly getting Matt killed by the Russian mob. “I thought you and your sister were living in San Diego,” she said.

      “Oh, we are, but the girls begged to come to the con.”

      “Is it safe? I mean, you know…” Sam groped for words, not wanting to bring up the girls’ father, who’d kidnapped them two years earlier.

      “Oh, my ex got caught passing bad checks in Salt Lake. He’s doing three to five in a Utah state pen,” Jenny said blithely.

      “Are you here to snatch somebody?” Mellie asked eagerly.

      Great. All Sam needed were Larry, Curley and Mo bollixing up her retrieval as they had with Matt. “Nothing I can tell you about,” she replied, trying to think up an excuse to keep them out of it. “But I am attending the con. Er, it’s research for a case back in Miami.”

      “If you’re going to snatch somebody at the con, you’d better wear a costume or you’ll never get close to whoever it is,” Tiff said, not fooled for a minute by Sam’s denial.

      Sage wisdom from an eight-year-old. “I guess I could rent one,” Sam replied uncertainly.

      Jenny shook her head. “Every good costume in town’s already been taken, but I have a great one for you. Why don’t you come back to our suite at the Renaissance and we can fix you up? Oh, if I was you I’d leave your car parked here. During the day it’s almost impossible to find a vacancy and the hotel’s just up the street. We have plenty of room. My sister insisted on paying because she and her son had to cancel at the last minute.”

      What the hell? It was where she was headed anyway and there’d be no dodging their interference if they ran into her later and figured that she was after a guest. “Okay, I appreciate it,” Sam said as they started walking. “Say, what kind of costume do you have? I sometimes have to move quick and those…” She paused, gesturing to the girls covered head to

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