A Catered Costume Party

by Isis Crawford

  “Success!” she cried, waving the bolt aloft. Then she looked at the heel of her shoe. It had little indentations in the leather. She only hoped they were fixable.

  “We have only two more hinges to go,” Libby observed.

  By that time her shoes would be unwearable, Bernie thought as she shook out her hands. Her fingers were getting cramped. Then she leaned down and rubbed her feet. They were freezing. The sisters took turns with the next two hinges. The bottom one wasn’t too much of a problem, once Bernie realized that she practically had to lie down next to it to get the proper angle; the top hinge, however, proved to be a bigger challenge since neither sister was tall enough to reach it.

  “I need to get on your back,” Bernie told Libby.

  “Why can’t I get on yours?” Libby snapped.

  “Do you really want me to say it?” Bernie said.

  “Twenty pounds isn’t such a big deal,” Libby said.

  “Not usually. But it is in this case. Look. Do you want to get out of here or not?”

  “Obviously, I do,” Libby responded.

  “Then let me try.”

  “I don’t know if I can hold you.”

  “Well, I’m figuring if you got down on your hands and knees, I can stand on your back.”

  “No way,” Libby cried.

  “Do you have a better idea? Because I’m willing to listen if you do.”

  Libby didn’t. “Fine,” she said. She got down on her hands and knees next to the door.

  “Ready?” Bernie said.

  “Ready,” Libby said through gritted teeth. If she’d been cold and wet before, now she was sopping.

  Bernie stepped up, Libby’s back promptly buckled, and Bernie fell off.

  “You did that on purpose,” Bernie said after she’d picked herself up.

  “I didn’t. Honestly,” Libby cried.

  After two more tries, Bernie was finally able to stand up on Libby’s back and get to work on the last hinge.

  “I think I can just make it,” she said to Libby.

  Libby didn’t answer. She was too busy concentrating on not collapsing. The third hinge seemed as if it took an eternity, even though it didn’t.

  “My poor shoes,” Bernie said mournfully as she stepped down and put her shoes on. “They’re never going to be the same.”

  “Neither is my back,” Libby told her as she grabbed the door handle and yanked. “You’re not as thin as you think you are.”

  “I never said I was,” Bernie retorted while she supported the door with both hands.

  There was a squeak, the hinges came apart, and the door swung toward them, nearly knocking the sisters over.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” Libby noted as she and Bernie worked frantically to steady it.

  “Neither was I,” Bernie admitted once they got the door under control. “How much do you think this door weighs?”

  “Too much,” Libby replied as she and Bernie attempted to position the door on enough of an angle so there would be enough space for them to crawl through to the other side. It took three tries, but they finally succeeded.

  “Yes!” Libby cried as she carefully made her way through the opening they’d created.

  Once both sisters were on the landing, Libby looked at her watch while Bernie took her shoes off and carefully inspected them before she put them back on. The heels on the stilettos were stripped down to what looked like some sort of plastic, but they were still firmly attached to the shoes, which was pretty impressive when you considered she’d been using them as a hammer. The good news was the bows on the front of the shoes looked fine, so maybe the shoes were fixable, after all. Maybe the heels could be a different color. Like pink. Pink wouldn’t be bad at all. It would match the bows. And she could still walk on them, and that was definitely a good thing.

  “How are we doing for time?” Bernie asked her sister.

  Libby grinned. “Amazingly, we’re doing okay. If we hustle, we have enough time to get to the shop, finish our prep, and get to the Blitmans.” Libby shook her head. “Weird. It felt as if we were up on the roof for hours and hours.”

  Bernie nodded. “Didn’t it, though? We should probably tell Manny about the door on our way out.”

  “We don’t have the time. We’ll call him as soon as we get to the store,” Libby said. “Or text him if your phone is working. Or whatever.” She stopped and looked around. “I never want to come back here again.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me about that,” Bernie agreed as she started down the stairs.

  They ran down the empty stairwell and across the deserted parking lot. By now the storm had arrived in full force and the rain had become a curtain, the wind driving it in horizontal lines. The rain stung their eyes, and Libby and Bernie both looked at the ground as they ran, trying to keep the water out of their eyes as it cascaded down their hoods and worked its way through the seams of their raincoats and drenched their shirts.

  Which was why Libby didn’t see what was hanging from the branch of the tree next to Mathilda until she ran into it.

  Then she opened her mouth and screamed.

  Chapter 26

  “I guess we know why someone locked us on the roof,” Bernie said as she looked at Penelope Witherspoon dangling from the tree branch.

  Libby didn’t say anything. She was trying to get over her shock.

  “Well, one thing is for sure,” Bernie added, blinking the water out of her eyes. “The lady isn’t missing anymore.”

  “Are you sure it’s her?” Libby asked, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her voice sounded hoarse to her. She drew her raincoat around her. Not that it was doing much good in these circumstances.

  Bernie snorted. “Of course I’m sure it’s her. There have been only ten million pictures of her in the newspaper.”

  “Three,” Libby said, correcting her. “There have been three pictures. I wonder where she’s been all this time.”

  “Good question.” Bernie pulled her hood down farther over her head. “The other one being, why did she turn up now?”

  “There is that,” Libby agreed. “We should call Lucy.”

  “Should we?” Bernie asked her sister as she walked over to get a better look at Penelope. Just to make sure. Yup, it was her, all right. It was hard to tell, given the circumstances, but it looked to Bernie as if Penelope hadn’t been dead for very long. Maybe a day at the most. Probably less.

  “Of course we should,” Libby answered. “What else would you suggest?”

  Bernie turned around and faced her sister. “I’m suggesting we can tell him when we get to the shop.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “True. But so are we. This way we’ll get a chance to talk to Amber and Googie and tell them what needs to be done for the Blitmans.” Bernie stifled a sneeze. She was wet and cold, and she needed to change her clothes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m miserable, and I’d really like to get into some dry things and have something hot to drink before we call Lucy. Penelope Witherspoon is dead. What difference is another half an hour going to make to her? None. Zilch. Nada. Niente. But it’s going to make a big difference to us.”

  Libby raised her hands. “Stop. I get it.”

  “Good,” Bernie replied as she walked toward the driver’s side of the van.

  “You think Lucy is going to blame us for Penelope, don’t you?” Libby asked, her tone incredulous. “You want us to go home first because you’re afraid we won’t have the chance otherwise.”

  “And the lady wins the prize. Exactly right. I think there’s an excellent chance we’re going to be sitting around the police station for six hours, and I’d rather do it in dry clothes, with the Blitman stuff sorted out,” Bernie said as she opened Mathilda’s door and got in. At least she and her sister could get out of the rain while they talked. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to lock us upstairs so they could plant this body down here, right next to our van. There has to be a reason.” />
  “You don’t know that the two events are connected,” Libby told her, joining her sister in the van. Water dripped down her hair and into her eyes. She wiped it away with her hand.

  “Yeah, I do,” Bernie replied. She reached over and got her phone out of the glove compartment and tried it. It still wasn’t working. “Logic says so.”

  “It could be a coincidence,” Libby insisted. She started to sneeze.

  “And the sun could start rising in the west and setting in the east,” Bernie said as she started the van up. At least that was working. “Come on. Seriously. Why hang Penelope in this tree? Why do it now? Why not dispose of her body in the Hudson or bury her somewhere? No. Whoever did this wanted her found. More specifically, they wanted us to find her, or they wanted us to be found with her. Probably the second, but neither one is a good thing.”

  “No. They’re not,” Libby conceded.

  “So we’ve agreed, we’re going back to the shop and then making the phone call?” Bernie asked her sister.

  “I guess,” Libby said, even though she still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. On the other hand, the idea of hot chocolate and dry clothes was a powerful lure. She was just about to say something along those lines to Bernie when she saw Michelle’s van in the parking lot and Michelle talking to a couple, a couple Libby was fairly positive she’d seen in the common room after Darius’s death. She pointed. “Bernie, is that Michelle?”

  “Yes, it is.” Bernie groaned. Michelle was the last person she wanted to run into at this moment. She was just trying to decide if she could back up when Michelle spotted the van and waved. Bernie cursed under her breath as she drove toward her. There was no other choice. When she got close to her, she stopped the van and jumped out.

  Michelle’s eyes widened. “Thank God I found you.” She clasped her hands to her bosom. “We’ve been worried sick.”

  “We?” Bernie asked.

  “Your dad and I. Amber got a phone call from the Blitmans, and when you didn’t answer your phone, Amber went to talk to your dad. Then he tried to call you, and when you didn’t answer, he got really concerned.”

  “I didn’t answer because my phone fell in a puddle,” Bernie told her.

  “Well, that explains that,” Michelle said.

  “But you haven’t explained how you knew Libby and I were here,” Bernie demanded. She couldn’t help it, but she was irritated to see that Michelle was wearing the perfect coat for this weather. It was black and made of some sort of rubberized material that repelled the water. The hood fit snugly, and the wrist openings were tight enough to keep the water out. Not only that, but her makeup was perfect. Talk about petty, but Bernie had to admit that she was. Especially since she and Libby looked like drowned rats.

  “You told Amber, remember?” Michelle replied, raising her voice against the crash of thunder.

  “I guess I did,” Bernie allowed.

  Michelle shrugged. “In any case, I offered to run over and see if I could find you, and thank heaven I did.”

  “Who are those people you were talking to?” Libby asked, having joined Michelle and Bernie.

  “I don’t know,” Michelle replied. “I was just asking them if they’d seen you. Why?”

  “They look familiar,” Libby told her. “I think I saw them at the costume party.”

  Michelle shook her head. “Sorry, but I really have no idea.” She looked Bernie and Libby up and down. “You poor dears, you’re absolutely soaked to the skin. You must be freezing to death. What have you both been up to?”

  Bernie was just about to tell her that someone had locked them on the roof, but she realized that Michelle’s attention was focused elsewhere. She was staring over Bernie’s shoulder. As Bernie turned to see what she was looking at, Michelle pointed to the shed.

  “What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the hanging body of Penelope Witherspoon.

  Bernie’s heart sank. So much for getting out of here, she thought. “It’s—” she began, but Michelle interrupted her before she could finish her sentence, which, Bernie reflected, was just as well, since she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

  Michelle squinted. “Is it a leftover Halloween decoration? Because it looks awfully realistic,” she said.

  “Funny you should say that,” Bernie replied. For a moment she weighed finessing the situation, but she really didn’t see how she could, at least not in a way that wouldn’t come back and bite her in the ass. Sometimes it did pay to be truthful. “That’s Penelope Witherspoon, Darius Witherspoon’s wife.”

  “And she’s dead?”

  “Well, she ain’t hanging there for laughs,” Bernie said, reflecting as she did that Michelle brought out the worst in her.

  “Oh my God.” Michelle’s eyes widened. She put her hand to her mouth. “That’s horrible.”

  “It certainly is,” Bernie agreed. “We were just about to call the police,” she lied. “Unfortunately, my phone still isn’t working.”

  “Here, let me,” Michelle said, being ever helpful as she took her phone out of her raincoat pocket.

  Great, Bernie thought. This just gets better and better.

  But before Michelle could make the call, a police car with red lights blazing and siren blaring drove up the path to the parking lot, shattering the quiet of the late October afternoon, the lights imparting a reddish glow to the fading day.

  Chapter 27

  The three women turned and watched the black-and-white car approaching. The rain had tapered off to a fine mist, and Bernie and Libby could see the Longely chief of police in the driver’s seat. Not a good sign, both of them knew. A uniform should have been the first responder. The fact that Lucy had come himself meant that the crime was a newsworthy event. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gotten out of his chair.

  “What an amazing coincidence,” Michelle trilled in a tone of voice that gave Libby and Bernie pause as she watched the patrol car coming toward them.

  “Isn’t it, though?” Bernie said dryly, wondering about the timing.

  “Yes. Just ask the universe for something, and it will give it to you.”

  “I didn’t realize the universe answered such specific requests,” Bernie observed. “Kind of sounds like the universe is a DJ.”

  Michelle smiled. “Of course, you have to help yourself, but I asked the universe for a companion, and it gave me your dad.”

  “Lovely,” Libby said, rolling her eyes.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Michelle said, purposely ignoring Libby’s tone and expression. She turned to Bernie. “Don’t you think so?”

  But Bernie wasn’t listening. She was watching the patrol car racing toward them. She jumped back as it squealed to a stop right in front of her, Libby, and Michelle. “Could you get any closer? Why don’t you just run us over?” she yelled at Lucy.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my driving,” Lucy yelled back as he shut off the engine.

  Suddenly it was blessedly silent. Then he got out, slammed the door after himself, and strode over to where the women were standing

  There goes the day, Bernie thought as she studied Lucy’s face. He looked pleased with himself, which, in her experience, meant that he had the upper hand.

  “We got a phone call,” he announced, folding his arms across his chest. “Something about finding a body at this location.”

  Bernie pointed to Penelope Witherspoon. “Whoever called was probably talking about that one over there.”

  Lucy frowned. “She’s hanging in a tree.”

  “Would it be better if she was lying on the ground?” Libby asked.

  “It would be better if she wasn’t there at all,” Lucy snapped.

  “It was a rhetorical question,” Bernie said.

  He squinted. “Is that who I think it is?”

  “You tell me who you think it is, and I’ll tell you who it is,” Bernie replied.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded, not answering his last question.

  “How ab
out it was a nice day for a drive?” Libby replied.

  “I thought I told you to stay away from here,” Lucy said.

  Libby turned to Bernie. “Did he? I don’t remember him saying that.”

  “Neither do I, Libby. I guess we’re just getting forgetful in our old age.” Bernie turned back to Lucy. “So who called? Anyone we know?”

  He glared at her. “A concerned citizen.”

  Bernie rubbed her arm to get the circulation going. “Does the concerned citizen have a name?”

  “That’s something your lawyer can ask about,” Lucy threw over his shoulder as he headed over to the body.

  “Are we going to need one?” Libby called after him.

  Lucy didn’t bother to answer.

  “Oh, dear,” Michelle said. She touched a finger to her lips. “This sounds serious.”

  “Lucy’s in a huff,” Bernie told her. “It’ll be fine.”

  Michelle shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know. Why do you bait him like that?” she asked Bernie. “It just makes things worse.”

  “Because we can,” Bernie told her. “And it’s fun.”

  “It doesn’t seem very wise to me,” Michelle observed.

  “It probably isn’t,” Bernie conceded. “Listen, something tells me that we’ll be at the police station for a while, so I was wondering if I could borrow your phone for a minute. I need to call Amber and Googie and get a couple of things straightened out.”

  “You mean the Blitmans?” Michelle asked.

  Bernie nodded. “Yes. The Blitmans.”

  Michelle smiled again. “Don’t worry about that. It’s all taken care of.”

  “What do you mean, it’s taken care of?” Libby asked very quietly. Was there a note of triumph in Michelle’s voice? Libby thought there was, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Well, when I heard what happened at the shop—” Michelle began.

  “What happened at the shop?” Bernie asked, interrupting, her heart beating faster, fearing the worst. “Was there a fire? Did someone hurt themselves?”

  “Heavens no.” Michelle chuckled. “Of course not. I was talking about the Blitmans.”

  Bernie restrained herself from putting her hands around Michelle’s neck and squeezing the answer out of her. “What about the Blitmans?” Bernie asked instead.