A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5)

by Patrice Greenwood

  “If you’re working you should be paid.”

  “I’ve been reading,” he said, showing me his phone. He’d found an ebook of “The Masque of the Red Death.”

  “Dee told me about it,” he added. “Pretty creepy story.”

  “It is.”

  “Are they really going to reenact it on Halloween?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Wow. Need extra help that night?”

  I looked at him, recognizing vague apprehension as the source of my disquiet. “I just might,” I said.

  Going back to the dining parlor, I found that everyone was standing, intently discussing whether the dress code at the party should be historical or anything-goes. I found a tray and started collecting empty cordial glasses.

  Before I had opened the tearoom, I really hadn’t had much contact with Goths. The last few months had been quite educational, and so had this evening; I’d seen a side of Kris I had never expected. The softness in her eyes when she looked at Gabriel—that was completely new.

  Gabriel listened patiently to all the arguments, then declared that the invitations would encourage historical dress, but not require it. Given the apparent variety of taste among just the group at the meeting, I couldn’t help feeling that was wise.

  Gwyneth and Roberto edged their way to the head of the table. I didn’t hear what Gabriel said to them, but his nod was gracious. He really could have been a prince, I thought idly.

  Ramon gave me an empty tray in exchange for the one filled with cordial glasses, and I began collecting china. As I reached for the teacup at Kris’s place, I saw something black inside it and pulled my hand back with a sharp gasp.

  Gabriel was instantly beside me. “Are you all right?”

  Adrenaline flooded my veins, making me feel a bit unwell. I looked more closely at Kris’s cup.

  “Is that a black widow?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly.

  Conversation ceased. Kris stepped to her chair, peered into the cup, and reached for it.

  “Don’t!” I said involuntarily.

  She lifted the saucer, poked at the black object with her small, silver teaspoon, and declared, “It’s plastic.”

  One of her sculpted eyebrows rose a fraction as her gaze swept the room. Someone chuckled.

  “Really, what a foolish joke,” Cherie said. “I didn’t think any of us would stoop to baby-bat tricks.”

  Kris fished the fake bug out of the cup. “Someone is getting in the mood for trick-or-treat,” she remarked, her voice cool. She tossed the spider toward Dale, who dodged amid sudden laughter.

  The meeting broke up quickly after that. I helped Ramon clear, still recovering my calm, while Dee tagged along with Gabriel and Kris to test the microphone on the clock. I had a feeling Gabriel would like to say good night to Kris in private, so when we had moved everything out of the dining parlor I went to the gift shop to extract Dee.

  A loud ticking greeted me, which I recognized as the sound of my grandmother’s mantel clock, amplified. Gabriel stood looking at a pocket watch, flanked by Kris and Dee.

  “Are you—”

  I didn’t get a chance to finish my question. The chimes began, deafening, making me flinch.

  “Too loud!” Kris said, covering her ears.

  Gabriel took out his cell phone. “I’ll turn it down.”

  The clock’s sound was suddenly damped. After the chime was finished, the ticking sound remained, much more subdued.

  “Dee,” I said, “I could use your help in the pantry. It was a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel.”

  His smile was warm as he shook my hand. “Thank you for letting us use your tearoom. I promise not to be a nuisance between now and the party.”

  A part of me wouldn’t have minded him being a nuisance. I squelched that part firmly under a professional smile, and led Dee off to the pantry.

  As we started sorting silverware from china, I asked, “Did he tell you about the costume?”

  Dee grinned. “Yeah, it sounds pretty grotesque.”

  “I take it that doesn’t bother you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m studying criminal forensics. I can’t afford to be squeamish.”

  She sounded steady enough, but I was still concerned that she might be too attracted to Gabriel. Not that it was any of my business. I felt the spirit of Miss Manners hovering over my shoulder, ready to shake an admonishing finger at me.

  Abandoning the subject, I took a stack of plates into the kitchen. Mick relieved me of them and shooed me out.

  “We’ll lock up,” he said, nodding toward Ramon, who was wiping down the work table.

  I thanked them, said goodnight, and returned to the hall. Kris was returning from the front door, where I gathered she’d let Gabriel out. We started upstairs together.

  “Happy with the response?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s going to work. Gabriel’s pleased.”

  “He’s certainly an interesting guy.”

  She shot me a glance brimming with emotion, very unlike her usual cool demeanor. My worry alarm went off again.

  “Have you known him long?” I asked.

  “A couple of years,” she said, smiling to herself.

  We reached the top of the stairs, and Kris turned toward her office. I followed her and stayed by the door while she fetched her coat. The print of Ophelia hanging on her wall struck me: the helplessness of a drowning madwoman rang a cautionary chord.

  “I had no idea you were involved with anyone,” I said.

  “Oh, we just started dating. Gabriel was seeing someone else until last week.”

  “Oh?” Intuition prompted me to pry. “Was it someone who was here tonight?”

  “Y-yes,” she said, flipping off the light switch and stepping past me back into the upper hall. Moonlight lit the sheers on the west window with a pale glow.

  My thoughts flickered over the women who had been at the meeting. “Which of them did he date?”

  Kris turned to me, then gave a little sigh and a wry smile as she shrugged into her coat. “All of them.”

  3

  I blinked. “All of them?”

  Kris nodded. “Gabriel is very charismatic.”

  “Yes, I noticed.”

  “Don’t worry—I’ve got my eyes open.” She smiled. “I’m just going to enjoy my turn in the spotlight. I don’t expect it to last. Gabriel’s...not a long-term kind of guy, I think.”

  “Kris, you and I need to sit down together and have a nice long chat.”

  “Sure. Maybe tomorrow, after the wedding.”

  Oh, right. The wedding. I suddenly felt very tired.

  “Ah. Yes,” I said. “Well, we’ll see.”

  “Would you like me to come early?” she offered. “I could help set things up.”

  “No, no. It’s all under control. You’re a guest, just come and enjoy the party.”

  She did not ask, at that late date, to bring Gabriel, for which I was grateful. Not that we couldn’t have accommodated an extra guest, but it reassured me that she wasn’t rushing into this new relationship completely without caution.

  I myself had a date for the wedding: Tony. As Nat’s maid of honor I’d be busy, but I hoped to get in a dance or two.

  If Tony danced. I realized I didn’t know.

  There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Detective Tony Aragón. Sometimes that worried me a little, but the man had saved my life. And he was a great kisser.

  “I brought some black cloth to drape around Vi’s portrait,” Kris said, taking a length of georgette out of her coat pocket. “Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course.”

  We went downstairs, and I ducked into the pantry to fetch a sandstone coaster before following Kris to the Violet alcove tucked behind the gift shop. She stood on a small footstool, carefully draping the sheer black cloth around the edges of the portrait’s frame. When she stepped down, I slipped the coaster under the votive on the mantel.

  Kris moved the fo
otstool back to its place in front of a chair and stood gazing at Vi’s portrait. “I wonder if Captain Dusenberry was there to meet her when she died.”

  The comment surprised me, but I treated it seriously. “I didn’t know you believed in the afterlife.”

  She glanced at me. “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “I...hadn’t thought about it lately.”

  “Ellen, you live in a haunted house!”

  “True.”

  I glanced at Vi’s portrait, disturbed by the idea that she might decide to hang around with the Captain. The last thing I needed was for the tearoom to become Ghost Central.

  Of course, the Bird Woman would love that. So would Willow Lane, no doubt.

  “Vi didn’t die here,” I said. “Probably someone she knew met her.”

  If you believed that the dead are met by a loved one. I wasn’t sure, myself. Part of me (trying to be very practical) believed only what I could see, hear, or touch. But since the tearoom had opened, I had seen and heard a lot of inexplicable things.

  I had carefully avoided thinking about whether the two women who had died in the tearoom recently were haunting it. For comfort, I reminded myself that I hadn’t seen or heard anything to indicate they were. No new noises, no new mysteries. Only the occasional turning on of lights or music, and dancing chandelier crystals, that were Captain Dusenberry’s trademarks.

  “You’re probably right,” Kris said. “She was the sort of person everyone loved. I bet she had plenty of people to meet her.” She stepped up to the mantel and adjusted the drape of the georgette. “Miss you, Vi.”

  The candle’s flame flickered as she stepped back. It could have been the movement of the air.

  I followed Kris to the back door, said goodnight, and watched through the window as she got into her car and drove away. The kitchen was dark; everyone else had left. I headed upstairs and into my office, turning on lights as I went.

  My list of things to do for the wedding was on my desk. I glanced over it, checked my phone for messages, then retired to my private suite across the hall for a hot bath, a book, and bed.

  A gust of wind swept something—rain, or more likely leaves—against the west windows as I crossed the hall. I glanced that way in time to see a large, pale bird flying past in the moonlight.

  An owl? It was gone before I could be sure.

  Owls symbolized wisdom. Did they also symbolize death?

  I decided not to look it up.

  Saturday morning dawned cold and damp, with rags of cloud in the sky. I hurried down to put the “Closed for Private Party” sign on the front door. There was another one for the front gate, and as I hung it there I couldn’t help thinking of Bilbo Baggins.

  It was chilly, but the lack of clouds over the Sangre de Cristo Mountains made me hope for fair weather later. I paused to admire the dew glistening on the chrysanthemums along the white fence, then went back to my suite for a quick breakfast of tea, soft-boiled eggs, and a small mound of buttered toast.

  When I came downstairs again, Julio was in the kitchen working on the food for the wedding. Nat and Manny had decided on a New Mexican buffet—quite a change from the tearoom’s dainty fare—and Julio was plainly having a blast putting it together. He had two slow cookers full of tamales on the counter; rice, refritos, and red and green chile sauces on the stove; and on the work table, giant bowls of tortilla chips, plus a tray of cherry and apricot empanadas. As I came into the kitchen he was dancing to salsa music while he peeled avocados for guacamole.

  “Morning,” I said. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Nope. Want some huevos?”

  “No, thanks. I already ate.”

  “Bueno.”

  I eyed the empanadas, then resolutely turned away and went to the main parlor to start rearranging furniture, dismantling the four alcoves that were our normal setup and returning the parlor to being one open room. As I moved the lighter chairs, small tables, lamps and ornaments to the walls, I thought about Gabriel’s plan to turn the alcoves into the colored chambers of Poe’s story.

  A Goth masquerade in my living room. Now that was a different way to spend Halloween.

  I paused with an end table in my hands, realizing that it was almost exactly a year since I’d purchased the house. A year ago, all this had been a dream.

  I set the table down and gazed around the room: a few beloved family pieces like my mother’s piano and grandmother’s mantel clock, the rest carefully chosen for nostalgia and comfort. We had worked so hard, Nat and I, my friend Gina, and others. So many people had helped make the dream a reality. I was so deeply grateful.

  The morning went by with only three phone calls from Nat. The clouds blew away on a brisk breeze, and sun shone down, raising my hopes that the lawn would not be soggy. The flowers arrived, the cake arrived, and Mick arrived to help me move the heavier furniture, handsome in a dress shirt, dark vest, and tie, blond hair sleeked back into a neat ponytail. We lined up the credenzas along the wall of the main parlor for the buffet.

  In the garden, the guys from the rental place were back, laying a portable dance floor under the tent. The roses had put out a late burst of bloom, a final glory before winter’s sleep. The wisterias were turning, leaves mottled green and gold. Pansies clustered in the flower beds, and the dahlias, too, were still blooming.

  On impulse, I picked a handful of pansies and put them in a tiny vase on the mantel in Violet, where a fresh votive candle was burning. Julio again, I thought, smiling.

  Rosa and Iz arrived, wearing their lavender dresses but without the white aprons, as Nat had requested. They looked beautiful with their hair caught back in matching barrettes that Iz had beaded.

  “You’d better change, Ellen,” Rosa reminded me, pointing at the clock in the gift shop.

  Half an hour. I dashed upstairs to put on makeup, brush hair, and don the traditional blue velvet dress that Nat and I had made. I added the concho belt that my father gave me for high school graduation, and my mother’s squash blossom necklace. I paused to take in the effect of the full ensemble, which I hadn’t worn before, in my bedroom mirror.

  Very New Mexican. The blue complemented my complexion, heightening the color in my cheeks and making my hair seem a richer brown. I tried on a smile, then hurried downstairs.

  Nat came in the back door as I reached the hall, already wearing her dress, patterned like mine but in dark red velvet instead of blue. She took off a scarf that protected a picture-perfect hairstyle.

  “You look smashing!” I told her.

  “Thank you, darling!” she said, giving my cheek an air kiss. “Did the cake arrive?”

  “It’s in the dining parlor. Julio and Mick will put it out when the ceremony begins.”

  Claudia Pearson came in behind Nat, classy as always in a tangerine sheath and matching pillbox hat with a net veil.

  “I parked in the back,” she said. “Is that all right?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. Thanks for giving Nat a ride.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Go on upstairs,” I told them both. “There’s a pot of tea waiting for you in the sitting area. I’ll come get you at ten minutes to one.”

  “Bless you,” Nat said, heading for the stairs.

  I found Manny out front, chatting with the minister and his best man. He grinned at me, dapper in his tuxedo.

  “Hey, chica azul! Where’s my chica rosa?”

  “Upstairs, getting zen. You look grand, Tio!” I said, giving him a hug.

  He chuckled. “You know Louie Cordova, right?”

  “Of course! Nice to see you again,” I said, shaking hands. “Can I get you gentlemen some tea or coffee?”

  They declined, so I fetched their boutonnieres from the kitchen fridge, and returned to find Kris chatting with them. She was sleek and sultry in a plum-colored satin dress and a picture hat that would have done Scarlett O’Hara proud. I was silently thankful that she hadn’t worn black.

  The mariachis were tuning up
on the back portal. Rosa was at the front gate, greeting the early arrivals and directing them to the tent. Butterflies began fluttering in my stomach, though I knew everything would go fine. My watch said twenty to one.

  The roar of a motorcycle made me look up the street. The sight of a man in a suit on a bike is fairly rare; my pulse jumped a notch as I watched the black bike glide to a parking place near the corner. The rider got off, removed his helmet, and ran a hand through dark hair. Yes, it was Tony.

  4

  There’s your heartthrob,” Kris said.

  I shot her a glance, but she was already sauntering away toward the tent. Tony, helmet in hand, approached with a smile.

  “Can I stash this inside?” he asked.

  I smiled back, glad to see him. “Of course.”

  We went into the gift shop and I tucked his helmet behind the counter. His suit was the one he’d worn on our first disastrous dinner date a few months earlier. Probably the only one he owned; his regular wardrobe leaned more toward jeans and a leather jacket.

  “You look elegant,” I told him.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, sliding his arms around my waist. “Mmm, nice velvet.”

  “Thank you.” I rewarded him with a lipstick-preserving peck, and gently disengaged from his embrace. “I have to go get Nat. It’s almost time.”

  “OK. Dinner after?”

  “Um...sure, if you don’t mind waiting while I wrap up the party.”

  “I don’t mind.” He nuzzled my neck, which tickled. I pulled away with a nervous giggle.

  “Go find a seat,” I said, squeezing his hands.

  I couldn’t believe I had actually giggled.

  He went outside while I hustled to the kitchen to fetch the bouquets. Julio was moving tamales to a serving pan.

  “Are you going to watch the ceremony?” I asked him, my arms full of flowers.

  “Yeah, as soon as we have the buffet set up.”

  Upstairs, I handed Nat her bouquet of fiesta-colored roses: red, orange, and gold. “Time for a final beauty check. Do you want to use my mirror?”

  She stood and took a deep breath. “You’re my mirror. Anything out of place?”