Mean Girl Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  And I have. Huge crowds, with everyone looking at the exhibit? It's the perfect way to case the place and check out security measures. There weren't many fancy dress balls in my career, but there were a few. Not long after I left my training at the Farm, I had an assignment in Ukraine, where I was looking for a silver ostrich sculpture that turned up in a gallery in Kiev.

  The problem was, this ostrich had a secret compartment where my contact had stashed a SIM card with all kinds of intel. Sadly, he was run over by a bread truck, and long story short, the statue ended up in an art gallery. I spent three hours that night surveilling things while drinking a sad, Russian-version of sparkling wine that had an aftertaste of antifreeze. The next day, I walked into the gallery and swiped the ostrich while avoiding the two cameras, a tripwire, and a narcoleptic guard named Phil.

  "I don't know about this," he muttered. "You should have asked me first."

  I folded my arms over my chest. "Would you have gone with me?"

  "Probably not." His tone of voice said definitely not.

  "So, don't go. I'll take Kelly."

  Rex considered this. "I'll be there on official duty, Merry. I can't go with you." He pulled me into his arms. "Look, I know this is something you want to do, but they've already threatened one of your little girls and killed two women. I'd feel better if you were here—" he waved at Leonard "—brokering an interspecies peace accord."

  "Fine," I lied. "I'll just wait to hear what happens."

  Rex gave me a look I couldn't quite interpret before kissing me and leaving. I was going to the gala. And I'd be dressed in a way he wouldn't even recognize me.

  * * *

  I'm not much of a girly girl, but admiring myself in the mirror the next evening, I had to say I cleaned up well. As I mentioned earlier, this wasn't my first time as a spy at a formal event. The slinky gold gown fit perfectly, and it had only taken me four different stores in Des Moines to find it.

  The wig was much harder. I didn't want it to look like a wig, which was part of the problem. Most fake wigs have an unnaturally shiny sheen to them. It's easy to spot something that doesn't look real. But this was real hair. I'd worn wigs before, and while my mid-length curly hair wasn't hard to pin up, it still took a bit of time to get it looking natural.

  With my gown and long dark brunette tresses, I really didn't look like myself. However, I remembered seeing Rex at the parade, from a distance with his back turned toward me, and I knew who he was. Since he was a detective, he'd probably be able to recognize my body language too.

  An elaborate Venetian mask I'd found in an antique store would cover most of my face. It was shaped like a black raven, with wings shooting upward at the eyes. It wasn't easy keeping Philby away from what she thought was a bird attacking my face. It was nice to know she cared.

  I just couldn't let Rex get too close. But since he was looking for a couple of men, hopefully he wouldn't even look my way. I added a small dagger to the garter belt (because, duh!), and I was ready.

  I'd left Leonard at Rex's house. Philby was still wearing the werewolf mask, taking it off only to eat. In fact, as I pulled out of the garage in the black Mercedes I'd rented, I could see her sitting in the window with her werewolf head on.

  It was a thirty-minute drive to Des Moines, so I practiced my backstory along the way. Unfortunately, I'd ordered the tickets in my name. I'd have to tell the Box Office my real name to get them. After that, I was Sophia Fuller, an art connoisseur and socialite from Omaha. I liked to travel to the Virgin Islands and had a summer home in Monte Carlo. My stick-in-the-mud husband was unable to attend due to work.

  When I pulled up to the valet, I handed him a fifty-dollar bill and a wink. He smiled and drove the car away. Holding on to my black clutch purse and tottering on gold stilettos, I walked up the stairs to the event.

  I'd forgotten how much fun undercover was. I'd also forgotten what a pain high heels were. Why did women do this to themselves? Who came up with the idea that we should strap skinny sticks to our shoes? The only time I ever found them useful was when I had to stab someone and the only stiletto I had was on my shoes. It worked out in the end, but I've never looked at high heels quite the same way since.

  Nonetheless, I soldiered on, swaying my hips elegantly as I walked to pick up my tickets. I dumped one in the trash, and after turning the other one in at the door, I plucked a glass of champagne off a passing tray and posed at the entrance.

  Casually sipping my champagne, I tried to look bored as I surveyed the room. There were maybe three hundred people in attendance, and the women were all dressed like I was—wearing a mask for a costume. I spotted Rex across the room, frowning at a display of gold, Incan statuettes. To my surprise, nothing was under glass. You could literally touch the objects. That seemed like a bad idea. Maybe the authorities were trying to draw out the thieves and make them jump the gun.

  I set my empty champagne flute on a passing tray and plucked a full glass off. Time to go to work. As I wandered through the room, gracing various men with a smile, I tried to study the exhibit without actually looking at it. Many of the men were in period costumes from the 16th through 18th centuries. There wasn't a ghost, werewolf, or witch among them.

  The buffet curled down the middle of the room, and I picked up a plate. It had a holder for my champagne, which I thought was a nice invention. I picked up a little of everything because a full stomach means the alcohol wouldn't cloud my judgment. There was shrimp, kabobs, cheese, cake, and fruit and vegetables.

  Merry Wrath would've filled the plate with cake. Sophia Fuller, on the other hand, was a healthy eater, so she had cheese and fruit. Hopefully this would make it harder for Rex to notice me since he was used to seeing me with junk food. I really didn't want to get busted. Especially after him saying that keeping things from him meant I didn't trust him.

  The orchestra played classical music, and couples swirled around the floor. I'd need to attach myself to someone so it didn't look like I was alone. As I nibbled from my plate, I scanned the audience for a good suitor.

  "May I have this dance?" a familiar voice whispered in my ear.

  "Riley?" I whispered aloud.

  When I turned to look, there he was, dressed in a tuxedo with a Venetian mask. I'd know that blond hair and those blue eyes anywhere.

  I smiled to accept, set down my plate, and took his arm. He led me to the dance floor.

  "Riley! What are you doing here?" I hissed as we took our positions and started to dance.

  "You look lovely," he said softly as he guided me along the floor.

  "Where have you been?" I asked while smiling. It wouldn't do to look like we were arguing.

  "Here and there. I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing."

  "How did you know I'd be here?"

  "I hacked your laptop. Really, Wrath, you should have a better firewall. I saw you had tickets, and voila!"

  There were a million questions I wanted to ask. So many that I was struck dumb for the moment.

  His voice adopted a softer tone. "You really do look amazing, Merry."

  "So do you," I found myself saying.

  To my surprise, I meant it. It wasn't just his blue eyes through the mask that gave him away. His once blond, wavy surfer hair was short, but I still recognized him. My stomach fluttered a little, but that might've been due to the champagne. Maybe I was just feeling nostalgic for my spy days as my former handler waltzed me around the floor. It was not because we'd dated very briefly years ago. I was sure of that.

  "I was curious about your interest in Incan culture." He grinned as he dipped me.

  I came back up, and he led on in time with the music.

  "I love Incan culture. It's my favorite," I said.

  He looked off to the right and nodded. "Why is it that your fiancé doesn't seem to realize you're here?"

  "He's working. I came here on my own," I lied. "I missed the old days. That's why I'm in disguise."

  His right eyebrow went up. "Won'
t the good detective be upset if he knew you were here without telling him? Marriage should be based on honesty, after all."

  It took all I had not to punch him in the throat. "That's none of your business. Tell me why you're here. I don't remember you having a thing for South American art."

  Riley twirled me over to a dark corner of the room and led me outside into the medieval gardens. It was cold, but I was still warm from blushing. A large, orange harvest moon illuminated the gardens as we started to stroll.

  "You're investigating. Admit it," he insisted.

  I shook my head. "I'm not."

  "You could be working for me." Riley grinned. "Then you could investigate all you want."

  Yes, he had a point. No, I wasn't happy about that.

  "I told you," I said levelly, "I don't want to work for you."

  "Okay. If you say so. But it sure looks like you want the job."

  "Why are you here?" I fired back.

  "I've got my first case as a private eye," he said. "Actually, I'm doing a little work for the Feds. They're understaffed, and I gave them a discount."

  I blinked. "You're here to stop the gold heist!"

  "Oh?" He asked casually, "Is there going to be a gold heist?"

  I jabbed him in the ribs.

  "And why are you here?" he asked.

  I blurted out, "Because of a dead witch on my Girl Scout float and for Kaitlyn being kidnapped at the Halloween Parade yesterday."

  He nodded as if he heard this every day. "And my thieves are the same people who murdered your witch and took your girl?"

  "I think so," I said.

  The wind blew my hair into my face, and I wasn't used to it. Brushing it out of the way, I noticed that Riley had stepped closer to me. My heart began to pound. This was not going to happen. I was engaged to Rex. Not Riley.

  "I have to get back in." I moved away.

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me into an embrace, where I found out his heart was pounding too. After a moment, he released me.

  "It's good to see you, Merry." He planted a kiss on my cheek then turned and walked back inside.

  Why, that no good jerk! How dare he confuse me like that! How dare I react to that! And he'd managed to distract me from the task at hand. All my excitement at reliving my spy days faded into a cloud of embarrassment.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned and sashayed my way back into the gala. No more distractions. I needed to check out the exhibit and figure out where the exits were. I'd looked at the map online, but it was basic at best. If these guys were going to steal the gold, I had to know what their escape options were.

  Riley's kiss burned my cheek, only making me angrier. And angry spies tripped up. I couldn't afford to do that. I should've punched him.

  I thought about what he'd said. Did the FBI hire him as a sort of consultant? I'd heard of that happening but had never seen it in real life. It made sense. He'd worked for the CIA for years and then the FBI. Riley certainly had the skill set for it.

  But why set up shop in my hometown? It wasn't like Who's There was a seething hotbed of…whatever private investigators investigated. He should've opened shop in Des Moines at least. How could he make a living in a small town, thirty miles from the big city?

  There was no way I was going to work for him. I'd done that before and ended up in a whirlwind romance. I'd just have to avoid him. Keep him at arm's length. Something that was easier said than done in Who's There, Iowa.

  He wouldn't last. There wasn't that much to do, and Riley would get bored. Which meant he wouldn't make enough money to live on. I just had to bide my time and hold out until he gave up. That was a good plan.

  Someone brushed past me, pausing to look me over. Victoria glared at me and, without so much as an apology, hurried away. It appeared that she didn't recognize me from my ridiculous purchase at Midland Furniture. And the look on her face when she sized me up told me she hated me because I was young and not too bad looking. Did she have a chip on her shoulder or what? I watched her walk away, wondering if I should try to talk to her.

  "Darling!" My mother's voice called out from behind a mask.

  "Mom?" This was turning into a bizarre reunion. "Where have you been? What have you been doing? I've been worried sick!"

  "It's okay, kiddo. I'm sorry about leaving so quickly. I was on an errand." She smiled graciously.

  "An errand? You vanished with a vague explanation! I thought Stan had kidnapped you!"

  "You did?" She leveled her gaze at me. "And you thought I couldn't handle Stan Coombs?" Mom didn't look happy.

  I hissed, "No. Yes. I don't know. You were gone, and I was worried!"

  While I'd like to think Mom could sucker punch slick Stan, I didn't want her to have to. That was my job. Her job was to help me plan the wedding, charm Rex's family, and just be my mom.

  "I'm sorry, dear." She put a hand on my arm. "I guess I got carried away with all this secret agent stuff. Don't worry. All will be revealed soon enough." She laughed and floated away.

  I wanted to chase after her and demand answers, but if Rex saw the two of us together, he'd quickly find out that I was here. I couldn't risk it.

  Riley was nowhere to be seen, and that was fine with me. I watched as Mom worked the room. She knew almost everyone, which wasn't a surprise. Most of these people probably contributed to Dad's campaigns. Now that I knew she was safe and in her element.

  Rex was nowhere to be found. Did the theft happen while I was outside with Riley? I'd never forgive him if it did. And that would probably include letting him know my displeasure with a few well-placed head slaps.

  Nothing looked out of place. More people had arrived, but the costumes still looked like a European masque. With everyone looking similar, picking out the thieves would be harder than trying to convince a Chechen strongman that no, I didn't take his cat. It was Vlad. It's always someone named Vlad. Trust me on this.

  I wandered the room, looking over the exhibit. There were a lot of gold pieces, from coins to idols, and dozens of works of primitive art. Were the burglars going to steal all of it? That wouldn't make much sense. It would be hard to do, and gold is very, very heavy. Lugging a suitcase full would be cumbersome and noticeable. You could ask Vlad. He not only made off with the Chechen's cat, he also took two suitcases filled with gold bullion. And that's how he got caught—running down the street in Vladivostock with a giant, yowling cat under one arm, dragging two very heavy suitcases.

  Vlad in Vladivostock. Huh. I never noticed that before.

  The gala continued, and I watched as people interacted and oohed and ahhed over the antiquities. Rex returned and kept to the perimeter, speaking every few minutes to other men in plain clothes who were most likely from the Des Moines Police Department. I maintained a distance, moving in the opposite direction. His eyes scanned in my direction every now and then but didn't linger. My disguise was safe from discovery.

  Which kind of bothered me. I recognized him from the back, from a distance yesterday. And he couldn't pick me out at an event he'd told me not to attend? Shouldn't he instinctively know that I was the woman he was going to marry?

  Maybe that was asking too much. I was trained to recognize how a man stands, moves, and acts. Rex wasn't a spy. Besides, it was a good thing he didn't know I was here.

  The case played out in my head. I still felt that Stan was involved. How could he not be? Had he seduced Amber for information then killed her to tie up loose ends? He was still my number one suspect. He'd hated Didi Stoker, lived way beyond the means of a furniture salesman, and was with Amber the night of her murder.

  There was only one snag—the fact that he was found bound and gagged on the float, seeming clueless as to how he got there. Either he was a great actor and very brazen, or he was sincere. I couldn't figure it out.

  Poor Amber. She was an idiot for falling prey to Stan-Call-Me-Stan's charms. But she didn't deserve to die and get dumped in my yard. I did think Stan set me up. Maybe he saw me driving away, or m
aybe it was to tie me to Didi's body on my parade float. Or maybe there was a completely different reason.

  Who would be the obvious question, but my first was why? Could this be tied to the fact that I once was a spy? I never once, on the job, had to deal with smuggling. Stolen artifacts weren't in my purview. And anyone who knew me knew I didn't care about money. Why frame me?

  One reason popped into my head—a lot of bodies had turned up around me over the last two years, and I hadn't been prosecuted for any of them. The killers could have realized that with my fiancé being a detective, once again, these crimes wouldn't stick to me, giving them time to cover their tracks.

  Or maybe Stan didn't like me because of who my mother was and did it out of spite? Neither of those options seemed right. Well, if I caught the killers tonight, we'd find out.

  Riley's appearance tripped me up. That man was always showing up at the worst times. And there wasn't much I could do about that. Especially now that he was a private investigator operating in my own backyard.

  I shook my head and tried to focus on the task at hand. One thing at a time was a good philosophy when there was too much going on at once.

  Roaming around the hall, carefully avoiding Rex, I started thinking about how this heist might go down, if taking the gold tonight was the actual goal. There were a dozen different scenarios, from cutting the lights and taking the artifacts to just slipping them into a pocket and walking away. They wouldn't need to take much, just a few pieces, to be wealthy for the rest of their lives. Especially now that they also had the Mesopotamian pieces.

  If they were idiots, they'd try to fence the objects. If they were smart, they'd melt them down. That's how most thieves get tripped up—walking around with marked gold. It didn't matter anyway. I was here to get revenge for them taking Kaitlyn. Mostly.

  An hour passed, nothing had happened, and I didn't see anyone acting suspiciously. I knew everything was still accounted for because all of the policemen were still looking around, assessing the audience. Maybe I should just go. Riley had taken the wind out of my sails when he showed up. And I was a little angry with Mom for turning up out of the blue with no explanations.