Tip a Hat to Murder

by Elaine L. Orr

  But she still had the strong feeling that there would be a lot more going on at the party than beer and dancing. Plus, drunks sometimes spewed words in addition to regurgitating their beer. She might learn more about who gambled with Ben and who was mad at him.

  On the frat house’s main floor, green and muddy yellow streamers fluttered in every doorway and from light fixtures. The wood floors were so sticky she almost pulled off a shoe when she moved through the dining room.

  Elizabeth stood in the foyer, near the entry door. The top of the main stairs was at the back of the hall, with its entry point in the middle. Green streamers stretched across the bottom step. A sign said, “Bathrooms on first floor.”

  She adjusted her goat mask to be sure the purple hair attached to it stayed in place. She had chosen a full mask even though it seemed unlikely that Monty or Professor Sprout would recognize her in heavy makeup. Blake Wessley or a couple other people could be close to sober and identify her.

  Her goal was to listen to conversations. If a dice game was underway upstairs, someone would have to give directions or maybe surreptitiously accept an entry fee.

  She didn’t care about a bunch of people shooting craps on this particular night. She wanted to know who played the games. If more college students had bet through Ben than she thought, the suspect pool would be a lot broader.

  Skelly stood nearby with a half-full glass of beer. With his eye patch, tri-cornered hat, and ruffled shirt, he certainly didn’t look like a doctor. None of the frat guys had visited the morgue, so he had said he didn’t expect to be recognized.

  An excited voice called, “Hey, Monty!”

  Without appearing overly interested, Elizabeth glanced down the hall. Monty was apparently in the kitchen, because the Chewbacca-clad man was calling into that room. “Great idea with the car, man!”

  Monty’s voice drifted down the hall. “We used that forklift that moves big bales of hay around the Ag barn.”

  Someone put a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder and a slurred voice said, “Hey, girlie.”

  She turned to see a short guy in a Spiderman costume, with the mask riding atop his head. “How do you know I’m a girl goat?”

  “Too skinny. Can I buy you a beer?”

  Since alcohol was included in the five-dollar cover charge, she played along. “Make it a spiked lemonade with a straw and you’re on.”

  “If I’da guessed a guy, now I’d know you’re a girl.”

  “If you thought I was a guy you wouldn’t be offering me a drink.”

  “Oh, yeah. Be right back.” Spiderman threaded his way across the dining room toward the kitchen, where the keg and a varied assortment of bottles graced the counter.

  Great. Enough underage drinkers here to fill the station.

  Elizabeth met Skelly’s amused glance and wandered toward him. Together they stared into the room on the opposite side of the foyer, which had seemed so staid the first day she talked to Wessley. The furniture was gone and it now served as a dance floor.

  Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” blared from corner speakers. Two bikini-clad women had painted themselves green and yellow and gyrated to cheers from a small group of appreciative men.

  Skelly leaned toward her ear. “Wanna dance, me lady?”

  “My hooves are sore.”

  Elizabeth wandered toward the back of the foyer, which was near the rear entrance to the kitchen. She peered into the kitchen, where people waited in line to pour beer from a huge keg. She had glanced in just as Spiderman walked out the door that led from the kitchen to the dining room, a drink in each hand.

  Two huge bowls of chips, one potato and one taco, sat on a table near the door that led to the back deck. She grabbed a fist-full, then remembered she couldn’t eat them. Intending to drop them in a corner, she turned, and was rewarded with a narrow set of stairs leading to the second floor. Probably servants’ stairs of long ago.

  If a game was underway, it would be upstairs rather than in the likely damp basement. But too many people were nearby. If she went upstairs she’d be seen and maybe stopped.

  Frustrated, she went back into the hall, dropping a couple chips with each step.

  Skelly had moved closer, and greeted her with, “Ahoy, matey.”

  Spiderman appeared next to Skelly. “It’s a lady, and she’s with me.” He pushed the spiked lemonade toward Elizabeth.

  Skelly moved away. “No harm no foul.”

  Elizabeth took the drink and shoved the straw through the goat mask mouth hole, pretending to take a drink.

  “Don’t you wanna take the mask off?”

  “After I win the costume contest.”

  “Hey, Spidey. Wanna help set up the fireworks?”

  Elizabeth turned to see Monty about ten feet behind her. His bare chest was emblazoned with the winning football score, and he swayed lightly as he spoke.

  “I’m kinda busy,” Spiderman said.

  Monty leered in Elizabeth’s direction and gyrated his hips. “You got all night to be busy.”

  Spiderman sighed and looked at Elizabeth. “I said I’d help. Don’t go anywhere after the fireworks.” He followed Monty toward the kitchen exit to the back yard.

  Skelly walked up. “So, if you’re free and want to get busy now, let me know.”

  “Shut up.” She leaned a couple inches closer to him. “If they’re doing fireworks, maybe it’ll be easier to get upstairs.”

  He glanced toward the main set of stairs. “Pretty obvious route.”

  “I found back stairs.”

  He raised his still half-full beer at her. “I take it I’m the lookout.”

  “I think if they find one of us upstairs I’m less likely to get punched.”

  “Only if you keep your mask on.”

  They moved to the living room and stood against the wall, watching the now large group of dancers.

  Skelly shook his head. “Spines aren’t supposed to bend back that far.”

  “Probably just when they have beer lubricant,” Elizabeth said.

  Wessley’s booming voice came from the top of the main stairs, and Elizabeth peered in that direction.

  He came down the steps as if he were a king entering the royal court. “Fireworks in five minutes. Best view from the back deck.”

  Skelly eyed Wessley’s Lord of the Rings king’s costume and lowered his voice. “Is he always that smarmy?”

  “Anytime I’ve seen him. Kind of like the school bully who acts polite to the principal.”

  High-volume music continued to blare from a boom box. A blonde man dressed as an Indian, complete with war paint and a fake tomahawk, ran through the dining room and hall and out the back door. As his war cry faded, someone turned the music off.

  Cries of “hey, asshole,” and “the quiet’s killing me,” floated through the air near the living room.

  From near the rear door, Wessley yelled, “Fireworks! Smoking allowed on the porch!”

  “We should split up,” Elizabeth said, in a low voice.

  “Fine. I want to stay near those back stairs once you’re up there.”

  As those sober enough to walk moved toward the deck, a pungent smell of marijuana drifted into the house. Skelly murmured, “Time for a joint?” He followed a tall scarecrow into the dining room.

  Elizabeth assumed this was so Skelly’s watchdog role would not be as obvious as if they headed to the back staircase together.

  Sweat trickled down her face and she wished she could take off the mask. Elizabeth compromised by grabbing a wrinkled napkin from a hall table and lifting the mask just enough to wipe off the sweat.

  She picked up the spiked lemonade as the first boom of fireworks came into the house. Lemonade rushed over her hand. “Damn it all!” She wiped her hand on a pant leg, took a sip, and set the plastic cup on the table.

  The noise and stream of light from the back yard drew the rest of the party goers to the deck. Elizabeth trailed the stragglers, but ducked into the recess at the bottom of the
back stairs.

  She probably had less than ten minutes, unless the frat had the money to buy a lot of fireworks. She lifted the mask enough to see the dark stairs and quickly moved to the second floor.

  Silence greeted her. Unlike downstairs, the carpeted hallway and the five closed doors were like those in a normal house.

  Low voices and a clinking noise came from the end of the hall. Then a woman’s voice said, “Raise you four.”

  A poker game. A friendly game was no big deal, but if the stakes were high and people paid to enter, that was different.

  Elizabeth listened at the door to the room. The woman had sounded familiar, but her voice was too muffled by the door for Elizabeth to identify her.

  From the room two doors down came the sound of dice hitting the hardwood floor. A man’s voice whooped, and another man said, “Keep it down.”

  Now all she had to do was stay at the party long enough to see who left the games. It could be hard. She couldn’t stand at the bottom of the steps and check off people who were leaving. Plus, staying that late might make her and Skelly too obvious.

  She’d have to figure out how to track the players. Elizabeth turned to take the back stairs down to the party when heavy footsteps began to clomp up those stairs.

  She turned quickly and made for the main staircase. Maybe no one would be in the downstairs hall.

  Elizabeth wasn’t going to make it to the stairs in time. A man dressed as a stalk of corn, but holding some of the corn tassels in his hand, got to the top of the steps. Elizabeth turned the knob to a room she hoped was a bathroom.

  “Hey! What are you doing up here?”

  Elizabeth turned and spoke in a voice higher than her own. “Trying to find a bathroom.”

  The silence from the poker room was perceptible.

  The Corn Man frowned. “Use the one downstairs.”

  “It was busy.”

  “Ok, but hurry up, Goat.”

  Elizabeth entered into the room and shut the door. She leaned against it for a second and took two breaths. Then she waited thirty seconds or so, flushed the toilet, and turned on the water.

  She was sweating again, so she lifted the mask and splashed a little water on her red face. No towels, so she wiped her face with her dry hand, readjusted the mask, and turned.

  The Corn Man opened the door and stared at her. For a second, Elizabeth wondered if she’d have to fight off a drunk who wanted sex. But, he simply stood back and let her go into the hall.

  “Do I know you?”

  She shook her head, and still speaking in the higher tone said, “You’ll know when you guys judge the costume contest.”

  He grunted and Elizabeth walked past him, toward the main stairs.

  “Other way.”

  She nodded and got to the top of the back staircase as a cacophony of fireworks began in the yard. Probably the last blast. She again lifted her mask slightly to make her way down the unlit stairs.

  Skelly stood at the bottom, back to her, eyes on the door that led to the deck.

  “It’s me,” she whispered. “Where were you when that guy went upstairs?”

  He moved a foot or so into the hall so she could duck behind him. “Talking to your buddy Wessley or King whatever-he-is.”

  Elizabeth headed to the hallway table and picked up her drink.

  Skelly came up to her. “I think we need to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “When that Wessley guy introduced himself to me, I could tell he knew I didn’t belong here. I said I’d been with KIZZ when I went to UIS. He went outside for the ear-splitters, but he’ll be back.”

  “Okay. My mask keeps slipping. Lead the way.”

  They hurried onto the front porch as people began coming in from the deck. With her mask askance, Elizabeth put a hand on Skelly’s arm to steady herself. He squeezed her hand.

  They hurried down the stairs. After going only a few feet beyond the step, the front porch light came on.

  Skelly grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and twirled her toward him, not an easy feat given the saturated ground. “Giggle or something.”

  “What…”

  “Act like we’re looking for a place to make out.”

  Never a giggler, Elizabeth did her best, and pointed to a dark spot near the street. “Over there.”

  “Fine by me.” He pulled her in that direction.

  The porch light went out.

  Elizabeth moved her mask so she could see out the eyeholes, and they kept walking toward the street. Skelly’s car was only a few parking spaces down from the frat house. He popped the lock so Elizabeth could get into the passenger front seat

  Once they were inside and the dome light went off, Elizabeth removed her mask. “Man, that was hot.”

  Skelly started the engine. “I hope you got what you wanted, ‘cause we can’t go back.”

  “I found the rooms with gamblers, but didn’t get names.”

  As she said this, a patrol car, lights flashing but no siren, rounded the corner.

  Skelly laughed. “Damn. Neighbors must have called about the fireworks. Maybe we should stop so they can arrest the chief.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ELIZABETH SLID FURTHER into the front passenger seat as two patrol cars sped past. She recognized Mahan driving one because he never took off his hat unless he was indoors. The other car would be Calderone or Grayson, probably.

  She could feel Skelly’s amused expression. “It’s safe, Elizabeth. The bad cops are gone.”

  She sat up straight. “Go back!”

  “I thought you didn’t want…”

  “Please Skelly. I didn’t want the frat guys to know who I was when we snuck in. Now we can nab the people who were playing upstairs. One of them could be Ben’s killer.”

  Skelly had already started to make a u-turn in the middle of Combine Street. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order you around.”

  He grinned. “Sure you did. But I don’t want to be part of any raid. I’ll drop you and peel out.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “I still work in the ER one night a week, remember? I don’t want college students to see me as the law. Might keep them from oh, I don’t know, telling me what kind of mushrooms brought one of their buddies to the hospital.”

  They pulled in front of the frat house, and Elizabeth yanked on the door handle. Locked. She flipped the unlock button. “Thanks, pal.”

  As she shut the door, she heard Skelly mumble, “Pal. That’s great.”

  The two cruisers were parked in the street, lights flashing. Elizabeth strode past them. Calderone was at the front door, pounding. That must mean Mahan had gone around back.

  Elizabeth ran up the steps. “Door was open two minutes ago.”

  Calderone turned. “Ha. You showed up. Nice costume.” He knocked hard. “Think it’s okay to go in?”

  Elizabeth reached around him and turned the knob. “I saw signs about the party on a couple street poles. Open invite as far as I’m concerned.”

  The scene could have been an empty house after Freddy Krueger went through. No bodies, but spilled cups of beer littered the floor, as did a bunch of pretzels and a clown mask. The green streamers that had covered the steps leading upstairs fluttered, broken.

  Mahan’s loud voice came from the back porch. “I said you don’t need to run away!”

  Elizabeth and Calderone walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. The keg tap spewed beer, so Elizabeth flipped it off as they went by. Calderone moved ahead of her to open the screen door that led to the porch.

  “Thanks.” Elizabeth glanced toward the back yard. “Hey, Mahan. Having fun?”

  Twenty yards out from the deck she could see billowing witches’ robes slow down. A ghost tripped over its sheet and fell flat on its face.

  “All I did was come around the corner and about twenty of ‘em took off running. I was just gonna tell ‘em to stop and confiscate what was left.”r />
  Elizabeth nodded to the grass below. “There’s a tub, probably what they were stored in. Why don’t you pack up what’s left? I think everybody else is upstairs.”

  “So there was a game?” Calderone asked.

  “A couple.” She turned to Mahan. “They were party rowdy, not trouble. Could be some underage. You okay down here?”

  “Sure. I’ll holler if I need you.”

  Elizabeth turned to go back inside, and led Calderone up the back staircase. Fast-moving feet from above told her that the gamers were on the move. She quickened her pace.

  At the top of the stairs, she yelled, “Stop! All of you.”

  At least one person kept running down the uncarpeted front stairs, but the others stopped and slowly turned.

  Elizabeth could tell which were the students, because even in the blue grease paint of a Smurf, a clown costume, or the bottom part of a corn costume, they looked scared.

  Gordon Beals’ shoulders slumped. “Crap.”

  IF ALICE HAD HIDDEN under a bed, she wouldn’t have been sitting in Elizabeth’s office in the dawning hours of Sunday morning. Beals and three other gamblers, caught with pockets full of poker chips, were in the conference room with Officer Grayson.

  At least Beals was sober.

  “Okay, Alice, I didn’t want you to have to sit with Gordon and those drunks, but that’s about the only courtesy I can offer you.”

  A tear floated down her grease-paint coated face. She no longer looked like the witch she had been depicting, more like a scared grandma.

  “You won’t tell Jen, will you?”

  “Jen? I didn’t see her.”

  Alice sniffed. Elizabeth pushed a box of tissues toward her and used her other hand to raise a mug of coffee to her lips.

  “No, of course not. She hates gambling. It’s why she broke up with Ben.”

  Thankfully, Elizabeth had only a small sip in her mouth. She swallowed too fast and choked.

  Alice took a second tissue from the box and passed it across Elizabeth’s desk. “Are you all right, dear?”