Masking for Trouble Page 15

  “Would it bother you if he was? I mean, it sounds like this Cooper guy is interested in you. What are you going to do if he asks you to something more than a town hall meeting?”

  “I don’t know. It’s more complicated because they’re friends.”

  “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  “I think so.” I finished off the last of my waffles and set my silverware on the plate. “You’re going to say I need to talk to Tak. Which means we’re going to have one of those we-have-to-talk moments before we’re even officially dating. Which is going to make me look like I’m needy and possessive and insecure. Who wants to look like they’re needy and possessive and insecure when they’re—you know—in the crush stages?”

  “This is why normal people over the age of sixteen don’t try to date in secret.”

  I balled my napkin up from my lap and threw it at her. She laughed.

  “Talk to him,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be all serious, but you have a right to know where you stand. I’m sure it was totally innocent.”

  Everything Bobbie said made sense. I glanced at the wall clock. It was a little after eight. I needed to be back at the costume shop by ten to have a full hour to prep the store before opening. Today, the last Saturday before Halloween, would be filled with point-of-sale purchases. Colored hair spray, professional makeup, cheap wigs. The best of our costumes had been rented, but we could still turn out special costumes under pressure. If someone came in needing a costume, we’d come up with something.

  “Do it now,” Bobbie said.

  Before I could choose the right words for a text, the door to the diner opened and Gina Cassavogli walked in, followed by a few of the women who worked at Candy Girls. She spotted Bobbie and me, pointed to a large round booth in the opposite corner, and split off from them. As the women made their way to the table, Gina headed toward us.

  “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Margo,” she said. “They don’t serve waffles in prison.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what people are saying about you. You murdered Paul Haverford because his plans were going to destroy your little store. It’s only a matter of time before Detective Nichols comes over with a pair of handcuffs. Real ones, not the plastic ones in your inventory.”

  My face felt hot. Gina’s voice was too loud, her mannerisms too big, and her accusations too much for me to handle. I stood up and faced her. “You’re just angry because there won’t be any money coming into Candy Girls now that Paul Haverford is dead. You sold the store so you could be part of his big plans for expansion and those plans aren’t going to happen.”

  “Shows what you know. I asked someone who used to work in the planning office about it and he said the murder wouldn’t stop anything. Havetown is going to be built, new businesses are going to come to Proper, and Candy Girls is going to be the costume shop where everybody shops. We’re going to expand and become a household name. Your little store will become a roadside attraction, at least until it files for bankruptcy.”

  “Who told you that?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Tak Hoshiyama.”

  “When?”

  An evil smile crept across her face. “Yesterday when he and Nancy Nichols came to our store to pick out costumes. And Nancy said they were close to making an arrest.”

  * * *

  ASIDE from the restaurants that served breakfast, there were very few businesses open at eight thirty in the morning. I left Bobbie with some money to pay my share of the bill and left. I wasn’t ready to hear my dad talk about his date last night and I’d lost interest in talking to Tak. Instead of stopping, I drove past the store and continued on to the west side of Proper.

  There was a noticeable change in the appearance of the properties the farther I went. Proper City was a desert town, so lush green lawns were nonexistent, even in wealthy areas like Christopher Robin Crossing. Professional landscaping included rock gardens, cacti, and the occasional bird feeder. But landscaping was a luxury not afforded the residents of West Proper. Yards were patchy with yellow grass and dirt. Bicycles were propped against houses, next to baskets of toys and dirt-coated, kicked-off shoes.

  Main Line Road dead-ended into the base of a mountain. A double-ended arrow indicated that the narrow, dirt-covered road around the base of the mountain ran both ways, and a smaller, faded arrow underneath it indicated strawberries for sale to the left. I turned and followed the sign even though I wasn’t in the market for strawberries. I hoped to find signs of life somewhere that direction. It was three miles before I did.

  A string of rundown houses lined an unpaved road. The houses were all the same shade of concrete with black tar paper roofs. A shiny 1966 two-door Lincoln with a white hardtop and red vinyl interior sat in the third driveway on the right.

  I knew that car. It belonged to Dig Allen.

  I hadn’t thought much about Dig since the party. I slowed down as I drove past and spotted him on the side of the house. I turned around at the end of the street and drove back, pulling into the driveway behind the Lincoln.

  “Margo? What are you doing out this way?”

  “I went for a drive and let my mind wander. Didn’t know I was going to end up here. Are you— You don’t— What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “This was my mom’s house,” he said. “She passed away a couple of years ago. My sister and her daughter needed a place to stay so there was no rush to sell it.”

  “Doe she still live here?”

  “No, she just needed a place to get back on her feet after her divorce. The judge granted her custody based on this address, and truth was I liked having her and the little one around.”

  “Why’d she move?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back on the heels of his black CAT boots. “Margo, don’t try to be so polite. This house isn’t in the best condition. My sister got a job in Moxie and moved six months ago.”

  “What are you going to do with the house?”

  “Funny thing about that. This property has gone from being the forgotten land of Proper City to a hot commodity. You know Sol Girard?”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. “I heard he owned some property out this way.”

  “He owns the rest of these houses. He’s got some good ideas about tearing them down and building newer houses for lower income families.”

  “Do you oppose him?”

  “Oppose? No. I like the idea. Proper City isn’t about the rich folks, it’s a town for people who are getting started. Families, neighbors, community. I respect what Sol wants to do. The only reason I didn’t sell to him was because my sister was living here.”

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “I’m not sure. That Haverford guy swooped in and bought up ten times the property that Sol owns. His plans are to tear all of this down and have it rezoned for businesses and retail. What do we need retail for? There’s a mall in Primm that’ll sell you whatever you want. And for the people who want entertainment, they can drive into Vegas.”

  “So what’s going to happen to Sol’s plans?”

  “Depends on what happens to the zoning petitions that were filed. Until a decision is reached, Sol’s plans are on hold. He’s sitting on the worst piece of real estate in Clark County and there’s not a darn thing he can do about it.”

  Chapter 22

  “WHAT ABOUT YOU? Are you going to sell to him now that your sister has moved out?”

  “He stopped asking so I stopped answering. But between you and me, I like Sol’s ideas a lot more than I like the concept of Havetown.”

  I thanked Dig and left. It was a quick drive back to the costume shop. When I arrived, my dad’s car was parked in his space behind the shop. I locked my helmet to my scooter and felt the hood of his car. It was still war
m.

  I went inside and found him juggling a silver candelabra and two green glass bottles with corks in the top. I took the bottles from him.

  “Good morning,” he said. “You got up early.”

  “I met Bobbie for breakfast. You must not have heard me leave.” I studied his face for his reaction. “How was your date last night?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He moved the candelabra from one hand to the other. “How was yours?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it either.”

  He turned his back on me and climbed into the store’s front window. Someone had rented the Dr. Frankenstein and monster costumes, so my dad had returned to the Dracula theme, this time with Mina Harker. The table remained set, but now the pale female mannequin dined with Dracula. Don was inside the window. He dabbed two drops of bloodred nail polish on the mannequin’s neck, and then aimed a hair dryer at it to direct the polish into the appearance of blood drops. When he was satisfied, he adjusted the silver candelabra on the table. Dad took the bottles from me and handed them to Don, who set them next to a domed silver serving tray.

  “What’s in the bottles?”

  “Water,” he said. “It didn’t look right with empty bottles.”

  A marble cutting board filled with cheese, grapes, apples, and crackers sat on the table in front of the figure of Mina Harker. I picked up a grape and stuck it in my mouth. Immediately, I spat it out. It was plastic.

  “You didn’t think I’d use real food, did you?” he said. “Have I taught you nothing?” He reached to the side of the window and pulled on a hidden cord. Heavy plum velvet drapes closed behind the two figures. I climbed out and went to the sidewalk to get a better look. Instead, I found myself face-to-face with several mummies.

  “Hi, Margo,” said one.

  “Kirby?” I asked, spotting his close-cropped red hair peeking through the wrappings around his head.

  “Yep. Can I talk to you for a minute?” He stepped a few feet away from the other mummies and gestured for me to follow.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I know you’ve been buying us pizza for dinner every night, but do you think maybe tonight you can give us a gift card to The Cheat Sheet?”

  “The bed and bath store? Sure. Why?”

  “Well, we needed our sheets for the costumes and now none of us has anything to put on our beds.”

  Business started as soon as we opened the doors. Dad and I tasked out Kirby’s friends to make our last-minute deliveries while we helped the procrastinators assemble costumes from the pieces we had left. Our racks of merchandise had thinned considerably, as had the stockroom. If Soot had left any mice in the stockroom, we would have turned them into costumes.

  The cowbell over the door chimed just after noon. Ebony entered. She was dressed in a blond wig and a chain-mail dress with elaborately folded shoulders. The dress was cut high on each side, revealing toned thighs. Garters that matched the dress connected to chain-mail leggings. The same chain-like material covered thick gloves that came halfway up her forearms. She held a small bow and arrow in one hand and a bichon frise in the other. He yipped.

  She towered above the mummies, who gave her a wide berth, except for one. He walked up to her, checked her out from head to feet and back. “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. Cool.”

  “Finally getting into the spirit of Halloween, are you?” I asked.

  “If it’s good enough for Tina Turner, it’s good enough for me. Now, are you people hungry? I’ve been in the test kitchen all morning working on recipes for the party Monday. I need some tasters. Who’s in?”

  Cheers rose from the mummies around the store. The customers took the scene in with amusement. Two mummies cleared a table that held stacks of old rubber masks, and Ebony set her insulated bag on top. She made a few more trips to and from her car. When she was done, the table was set with a red crushed velvet table cloth and plates of pumpkin puffs, deviled eggs, meatballs in the shape of hearts on wooden skewers (she called them stakes), baked heads of garlic that had been cross sectioned and drizzled with olive oil, pan de muerta, and an assortment of finger sandwiches in the shapes of ghosts, coffins, and witches that she’d punched out with cookie cutters.

  Shopping ceased as customers and employees lined up to get a sampling of Ebony’s wares. It was no secret that when Ebony planned an event, she went all out. Shindig offered more than coordinated plates and napkins. The city of Proper had hired her to deliver Halloween, and even if she was scared of the spirit world, she wasn’t going to let us down.

  Ebony pulled me aside somewhere between my fourth and fifth pumpkin puff. “What’d you have to do to get these mummies to work for you?”

  “Feed them pizza and promise them new sheets.”

  She started to reply, but then shifted her weight and put her hands on her hips. “Are you for real?”

  “That’s what Kirby said.”

  “Kids,” she said, shaking her head. She turned her attention back to me. “Your dad tells me you went on a date last night. Anybody I know?”

  “It wasn’t a date. I went to a town hall meeting.”

  “With anybody special?” she prodded.

  “Just a friend.”

  “Girl, you keep this up and you’re going to have a whole lot of friends and nobody special.”

  “Who says friends aren’t special?”

  “That’s not my point.”

  I’d been waiting for Ebony to make a comment about my love life, and this time I finally had a retort ready. I stood straight and looked her dead in the eyes. “You know, Dig Allen is a really good guy. The next time he asks you out, you should say yes.”

  We had a brief stare-off for a couple of seconds. Finally, she smiled. “Maybe I should.”

  * * *

  BUSINESS slowed considerably after lunch. I straightened the racks and unpacked the last case of purple hair spray. You never could predict what the hot color would be from one year to the next. We had three cases of green unopened. I thought of Dig in his Incredible Hulk costume and got an idea.

  While nobody was looking, I ducked upstairs with two cans of green hair spray, a cheap black dress, and a hula hoop. I sawed through the hoop with a serrated bread knife and fed it through the hem of the dress, changed into the dress, and sprayed my arms, legs, and face with the green hair spray. I went back downstairs and grabbed a cheap plastic toy ray gun from the accessories wall. I crept up behind Don and jabbed the ray gun into his back. When I pulled the trigger, whistles and beeps sounded from the gun. My dad, Kirby, and the last remaining customers turned around to see where the noise came from.

  “Take me to your leader,” I said in a robotic voice. Applause broke out around the store.

  “Is that costume available?” asked one of the customers. “I’ll take it.”

  I moved to the counter and wrote up a ticket for the dress, the gun, three cans of hair spray, and a lime-green wig. The woman added glow-in-the-dark fishnets, a headband with two white balls that jutted out from the top like antennae, and white plastic hoop earrings to the pile. Apparently in her world, aliens liked to accessorize.

  * * *

  EBONY’S surprise test kitchen offerings had kept the swim team appeased through lunch, but high school boys seemed to have a bottomless appetite. New sheets, while probably necessary, weren’t going to curb it. Ebony ordered half a dozen pizzas for delivery and pulled me aside.

  “Girl, I’ve been over this whole town in search of a place to throw this party. After what happened to Haverford, nobody wants to play ball. This town is more spooked than I am, and for a town of people who like to dress up in costume, that’s not a good thing.”

  “Have you talked to Octavius at Roman Gardens?”

  “He’s booked with the Knights of Columbus.”

  “What about the Proper City Community Cen
ter?”

  “Turned me down cold.”

  “The library?”

  “Too much risk of damaging the books. Nope, I’m at a dead end.”

  The words dead end reminded me of the end of Main Line Road, where I’d been earlier today. Desolate properties that had been ignored for far too long would make convenient Halloween locations. Even better, the property was owned by Sol.

  “Have you ever been to Dig’s mother’s house?”

  Ebony put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you go trying that show-me-what-it-feels-like nonsense on me. I can see what you’re doing.”

  “What?” I said. “Dig inherited his mother’s house in West Proper.”

  “He did, did he?”

  “The neighboring houses are all vacant. I just thought it would make a good location for the party, that’s all.”

  “How many houses are we talking about?”

  “Four, I think. Maybe five.”

  “Singles?”

  “Yes.”

  “We could do the food and beverage in one, turn one into a haunted house, host the costume contest in a third, and have party games in the fourth. Tie it all together with some kind of scavenger hunt so people have to go to each house. We’ve never done anything like that. Margo, that just might work. Who do I need to talk to?”

  It might not have been common knowledge that Sol owned the property, but I’d already been told that fact by two different people. “Sol Girard. He’s the property owner. But you might want to start with Dig, all things considered.”

  “All things considered, my fanny. You’re up to something. I just don’t know what.” She wandered away and pulled out her phone. A few minutes later, she came back over to me.

  “Dig said the decision is up to Sol. If Sol says yes, Dig’s going to close his towing company tomorrow and help make it happen.” She looked down at her Mad Max outfit. “Now I got two problems. One, I need to go back to Shindig to make the food. Two, I can’t take a business meeting dressed like this.”

  “Solution: you go do what you have to do at Shindig. I’ll talk to Sol.” I’d been looking for an excuse to ask him about his investment, and here, one had presented itself.