Masking for Trouble Read online

  Inside the restaurant, employees were bustling around with carts filled with silver bowls, rice, and meats. I scanned the interior, looking for Mr. Hoshiyama. I spotted him in the back by the doors that led to their private dining room. Before I determined how to approach him, I felt a hand on my arm. I turned and found myself face-to-face with Tak’s mother.

  “He is a proud man, Margo, but he is generous. Treat him with respect and you will receive it back. But understand that he is the one who has been slighted. Not you.”

  Chapter 30

  I NODDED MY understanding. She held her hand out toward the private room and smiled. I thanked her and followed Mr. Hoshiyama into the back room.

  The last time I’d been back here, I’d been Tak’s dining guest. We had sat next to each other on thick pillows that surrounded the low table. Paper lanterns had provided the soft glow of light around us while we ate, laughed, and shared a moment.

  Today, the pillows had been moved to a stack along one wall. The table was covered with large, curved blades. Not the kind used for cutting food, but the kind used for battle. The assortment alone was intimidating.

  I tapped the door frame. “Mr. Hoshiyama,” I said. “I’m Margo Tamblyn. I came to apologize for not being at the store last night.”

  The older gentleman stood straight and turned to face me. He had a full head of hair, parted on the side and trimmed neatly into a classic style. It was easy to see the resemblance between him and Tak: the cheekbones, the dark eyebrows, the naturally rosy red lips. His face was tanned, and the effects of the sun had turned his skin papery. But still, he was an attractive man, albeit at the moment, a very serious one.

  He bowed slightly in my direction and I returned the gesture, even though I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. “Miss Margo,” he said. “My son tells me that you are responsible for the Halloween party taking place in the park this year.”

  “All I did was call a friend and ask him to see if he could gain approvals for us.”

  “This friend, he works in the Clark County Planning Office? Where my son used to work?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are friendly with my son, no?”

  “Yes, Tak and I are”—I hesitated—“friendly.”

  “But you no longer spend time with him now that he is a restaurant employee and not a city planner.”

  “That’s not true!” I said quickly. “Tak and I—we met a few months ago when I moved back here. It had nothing to do with his job or with mine.” I thought of the one thing I could say to make him understand. “I moved back to Proper City to run my family’s costume shop, Mr. Hoshiyama. It was my parents’ dream to have that shop, and my mother died when I was born. My father’s been running it by himself my whole life. I think it’s noble for Tak to work here. He respects what you and his mother have created, and he wants to be a part of that.”

  “My son has an engineering degree from Princeton. He graduated in the top of his class. He is wasting himself here.”

  “Mr. Hoshiyama, my family is me and my dad. I never had the chance to meet my own mother. But I know that they built that business together out of love, and now, I’m going to play a part in helping it succeed. I think you should recognize that Tak is trying to do the exact same thing for you.”

  Tak’s dad turned away from me. He picked up two knives from a pile behind him. When he looked up at me, he crossed the blades on top of each other in front of him. “These knives are from my family in Japan. They have been in storage for a long time. No one has seen them for decades.”

  “What made you bring them out?”

  “We have lived in Proper City for ten years and have never been invited to participate in the Halloween party. It has felt as though the city views us as outsiders. When you asked us to participate in the Halloween events at the park, I thought this would make a nice display and would allow us to bring our own history to the city. Takenouchi and I will dress in traditional samurai costumes and allow children to view Japanese weapons. Perhaps we can stage a demonstration.”

  It was a beautiful idea and the children of Proper City would love it. Not just the children either. Grady and his friends would too. There had never been anything like that here. And it was time for us to expand on what the celebration had been to the town and to include everybody, not just families who had lived here for generations.

  “I hope my actions last night won’t make you reconsider your idea. It’s perfect, and everybody will love it. I know it.”

  He bowed again. “Then it will be.”

  “Thank you.”

  I said good-bye and stepped out of the private room. As I was sliding the door shut behind me, Mr. Hoshiyama stopped me.

  “Miss Margo, my son cares for you a great deal. He thinks that I won’t approve of you because you are not Japanese. He must only look at my choice of wife to know how far from the truth that could be.” He looked past me at Lynn Hoshiyama. I looked at her too. She seemed to sense that she was the focus of our attention. She paused next to a table where she was delivering mugs of hot green tea and looked at us with concern in her eyes. Quickly her expression changed to a smile. I snuck a glance at Mr. Hoshiyama. From the look on his face, I could see that he was completely in love with her.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hoshiyama. This has been very enlightening.” I held out my hand and he shook it.

  * * *

  I left the restaurant and drove to the park. The climate in Nevada was dry and arid. Plants didn’t grow unless heavily watered, which went against the water rationing laws that were in place. Our public park was a stretch of mostly dirt peppered with the occasional patch of yellow grass. Picnic tables and benches sat under an aluminum roof off to the side and public charcoal pits sat every twenty or so feet. It wasn’t unusual to find families out for a day at the park, even though there was little else to do other than eat and throw a Frisbee.

  Already, cars were lined up around the perimeter. I recognized business owners and neighbors mingled with people who must have moved to town during the time I was in Las Vegas. Ebony stood at the center of the park, waving people forward and pointing out where they should go. I strode across the dirt and joined her.

  “Girl, we’re gonna have a party!” She held her fingers up on either side of her head and snapped them as she slowly moved her hips from side to side. It was as if Ebony had her own private soundtrack playing.

  “So the city is on board?”

  “The hotel is restricted from entry. As far as the city is concerned, there wasn’t going to be a party this year. Do you know how happy they were when I called with this solution? I’ve got ads lined up to run on the radio station. The Proper City Chamber of Commerce even did an e-mail blast for us, and they said the phones have been ringing ever since. You think we can get those swim team boys to go door to door?”

  “Judging from the number of people here to help set up, everybody already knows.”

  * * *

  WE worked on party setup for the next several hours. BeefCake, the local burger joint, showed up with platters of hamburgers and hot dogs for the volunteers, and Catch-22 provided baskets of fried shrimp. Even vegans were accommodated when Hummina Hummina Hummus made a delivery of pita bread, falafel, a portable raw vegetable station, and, of course, hummus.

  Packin’ Pistils unloaded a truck filled with pumpkins and set up a jack-o’-lantern carving station in the corner of the park, and then surprised us all with several dozen vases filled with orange floral arrangements, which Ebony used to line the stage where the costume contest was to take place.

  As happy as I was that Ebony had gotten past her fears about the new party, I couldn’t quite ignore my own concerns based on the murder at the kickoff party. Were we being foolish by going forward with the annual activities? Or would something else happen? And if it did, would it happen at the PCP, where our party was to take place, or wa
s it going to happen at the Alexandria Hotel?

  As the morning moved into afternoon, the landscape of the park transitioned from a wide expanse of dirt and trees to a series of vignettes. In addition to the pumpkin carving and the stage for the costume contest, there was an area designated for witch makeovers and another section cordoned off for a makeshift outdoor haunted house. The hand-painted sign over the entrance read Trashland. Men, women, and children dragged giant black plastic trash bags into their work space. I wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but they seemed enthusiastic, so I let them be.

  Dig stood by the end of the stage with a hammer in one hand and a fist full of nails in the other. He had a red bandana tied around his forehead and pulled low.

  “You look like you’re solving quantum physics in your head,” I said, approaching him.

  “This is a field. It’s supposed to be scary. It doesn’t look scary now.”

  “That’s because it’s daylight. Remember the Alexandria? It looked scary the other night, right?”

  “Yeah, but it had all of those cauldrons around it, and the fog. We’re in the middle of a public park. No electricity. We need light and we need fog. It’s like we got ourselves some undeveloped land here, and we have to turn it into Halloween Town by tonight.”

  “You’re right. And I know just the person to help you. Give me five minutes.”

  The truth was, I’d been looking for an opportunity to call Tak and get him involved. He hadn’t been at Hoshiyama Steak House when I was there, so maybe he didn’t know what was going on. I called him.

  “Hi, Private Number,” he answered.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m with Dig Allen, and it turns out he’s in need of a city planner who can turn the PCP into Halloween Town by tonight. Do you know anybody who might be interested in the job?”

  “Depends on what it pays.”

  “If you hurry, you’ll get a burger or hot dog from BeefCake. Maybe even a shrimp basket from Catch-22.”

  “My family owns the best restaurant in Proper City and you’re offering me food as a payoff? Cooper might go for that, but my experience is worth more.”

  “What do you want?”

  “How about a date for the party tonight?’

  “I thought you had a date for the party.”

  “Not as far as I know. You know anybody who would be interested?”

  I did. I also knew someone who had already accepted a date with Tak’s friend, Cooper. Unfortunately both of the people I knew were me.

  “I already told Cooper I’d come to the party with him.”

  There was a silent beat. “I should have expected that. He asked me if I minded if he asked you out.”

  “What did you say?”

  “He asked you out, didn’t he?”

  I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Dig. He raised his eyebrows, and they disappeared under the bandana.

  “Dig wants to talk to you,” I said, and shoved the phone at Dig. “Tak Hoshiyama. Former city planner. Make him an offer he can’t refuse and he’ll help you with Halloween Town.”

  Dig took the phone and I walked away. I found Bobbie assembling a large bookcase.

  “For the bears,” she said. “You remembered the costumes, didn’t you?”

  “Yes and no. I made them, but they’re sitting on the workstation at Disguise DeLimit. Will you be here for a little while?”

  “Sure. As long as it takes for me to build this thing.”

  “Perfect. I’ll get them and come right back.”

  I headed toward my scooter while the air filled with the sounds of hammers, grunts, and laughter. The scent of the food had faded, and in its place was the comingled fragrance of pumpkins, apple cider, and flowers. It was around four thirty. We had an hour and a half before guests would arrive.

  Behind me, Dig yelled my name. When I turned around, he pointed at my phone. I jerked a thumb toward my scooter, and then pointed at where I stood. He seemed to understand my pantomime for “I’m going but I’ll be back,” shrugged, and put my phone in the pocket of his shirt.

  The roads were mostly clear. The few people who weren’t at the park helping to set up the party were either finishing up their day jobs or at home getting into costume. I giggled for a second at the thought of people primping like they were about to attend the prom.

  I arrived at Disguise DeLimit in minutes and parked out front. Inside, I packed the stacks of teddy bear costumes into a red backpack, squashing them to make them all fit, and then zipped it closed. I pulled both straps on over my shoulders and left. A sliver of paper slipped out of the door frame to the sidwalk. Package delivery left around back, it said.

  My dad had mentioned that he’d sent himself packages from the road. As much fun as Halloween was, there was always the possibility of mischief too. If I didn’t make it back to the store tonight, those packages might sit out overnight. There was a chance they might even get stolen.

  I drove my scooter to the end of the block and turned into the narrow alley behind the store. Cardboard tubes like the ones Francine Wheeler had had at HVC were scattered on the ground by the back door. I put the scooter on the kickstand and picked one up. It was empty. The address label said Disguise DeLimit.

  What?

  I picked up another. It was empty too. And then I heard something behind me. I turned around and saw Francine Wheeler lying on the ground with a trickle of blood running down the side of her head.

  Chapter 31

  I DROPPED THE cardboard containers and the backpack and raced over to her. “Francine? Talk to me.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. She looked like she was trying to focus on me. “You!” she said, and raised her hands to her face.

  Her sudden motion scared me and I moved away from her. I felt my pockets for my phone, and then realized that I’d left my cell with Dig. “I’ll be right back. I’m calling the police,” I said.

  I went into the shop and called 911. “There’s been an accident at Disguise DeLimit. Please send paramedics.”

  “Are you hurt?” the operator asked.

  “Not me. Francine Wheeler. Yes, she’s hurt. Please send help.”

  I stayed on the line long enough to give my name and the store’s address, and then grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and went back outside to Francine. I held the bottle to her lips. Water trickled down the front of her khaki shirt.

  I rooted through my backpack and pulled out a pair of the teddy bear hobo pants. I poured water on them and then held them to her head. She flinched at first, but then took the compress and held it in place. The tiny garment absorbed the blood from her wound. Once she was cleaned up, I could see that the gash was not nearly as bad as I’d originally thought. It was smaller than the size of a dime.

  “Help is coming,” I said to her. “Talk to me. What’s your name?”

  “You know my name.”

  “Say it anyway.”

  “Francine.” It took her great effort to get the word out.

  “Where do you live?” I asked, more to keep her talking than from any real interest. In the distance, I heard sirens.

  “Small house,” she said. “Quakeproof.”

  “I’m sure it is. Francine, who did this to you?”

  Her eyes fluttered open a second time. She seemed to have trouble focusing on me. “You did.”

  Before I could ask her what she meant, an ambulance pulled up to the curb. Paramedics jumped out and pulled me away from her. I stood by the back of the shop with my arms wrapped around myself. What had she meant?

  Detective Nichols pulled her navy blue sedan up behind the ambulance. When she got out, she ran her fingers through her hair and approached.

  “What happened here?”

  “I came back to the store to pick up some costumes for Bobbie—she’s setting up her bears at the PCP with everybod
y else, I’ve been there all day working—and when I left out front, a piece of paper fell from the door and said there was a package delivery out back. I thought it was something my dad sent to himself—he does that when he’s out buying costumes—but when I came back here, I found her on the ground.”

  “Did you touch her?”

  “Yes. I brought her a bottle of water and then cleaned the blood off her head so I could see the wound.”

  She took two steps toward Francine and said something I didn’t hear to the paramedic. He gently pushed Francine’s hair back. The wound had turned dark and purple. The compress had controlled the blood flow, so the only sign was the circular mark. Detective Nichols looked around the ground for something that could have caused the injury. Scattered around were the empty shipping tubes and plastic lids, but nothing else. Her eyes rested on my backpack.

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s mine. It’s filled with the teddy bear costumes I was taking to Bobbie.”

  “Open it.”

  I unzipped the bag and held it open for her to see the bear costumes.

  “You’re serious.”

  “Like I told you, I came home, filled the backpack with teddy bear costumes, and was about to leave when I saw the note about packages. I went around back and found the empty shipping containers and saw Francine. After I checked to make sure she was still alive, I came in and called you.”

  “Let’s go inside. I have more questions.”

  We moved to the workroom of Disguise DeLimit. The long, narrow room was convenient for the wall of sewing machines that my dad had installed, but not so much for a one-on-one with the detective. The lights were bright, and the sterile white walls held little to distract me from what had happened. The only comforting thing in sight was the Bobbie Bear who had served as my fit model. He sat on the back of the counter, dressed in a pink and blue clown suit with a ruffle around his neck. More than just about anything, I wanted to reach out and hug him.