“Dee? You all right?”
“Y-yes.”
I heard a siren in the distance. Turning to follow her gaze, I saw a familiar, golden figure.
“Oh, God!”
He was hanging from the iron bracket that held a flower basket, below the second story, between two posts.
The spot where I’d seen the third gleam of light.
The first responders arrived before Mick. They came through the zaguan on the north side: two uniformed cops, then three paramedics who swarmed up the stairs and went to work getting Gabriel down.
One of the cops went into the bistro while the other—a stocky Latino guy not much older than me—came over and started asking questions, most of which Dee had to answer. I stayed with her, holding her hand, which was chilled. The black robe was just a cover-up; it wasn’t warm enough to protect her from the cold breeze. I wished I’d thought to bring something for her. I hadn’t even grabbed a coat for myself, but at least my dress was warm.
Mick came running up, winded. The cop bristled.
“Mick, thank you,” I said, then turned to the cop. “This is Dee’s brother, he drove me here when she called me.”
The cop relaxed a little. “You know him?” he said, nodding toward the balcony, where two paramedics were strapping Gabriel into a harness while the third stood in the garden below.
Gabriel’s body. There was no chance he was still alive. I swallowed, fighting down the part of me that wanted to give way to grief.
“Not really,” Mick said, glancing at me. “He’s a customer, sort of. I never—”
A piercing scream behind us interrupted him. Looking toward the sound, I saw a woman in a Supergirl costume standing in the doorway of the bistro, watching the paramedics with an expression of horror.
The cop cursed under his breath and started talking into his radio, asking for backup. “Stay here,” he told us with a sharp look, then headed for the bistro.
A witch and a figure in a business suit with a really good mask of a leading politician joined Supergirl in the doorway. The cop raised his arms to herd them back inside.
Dee shivered. I hugged her and invited Mick to do the same. “She’s freezing. You don’t happen to have a blanket in your car?”
“No.” He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She shuddered and leaned against him.
Hearing footsteps approaching, I turned to the southwestern zaguan and saw Tony Aragón coming toward us, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and his leather jacket zipped to his throat. His shoulders were hunched and he was frowning. He stopped a couple of paces away, eyes going wide.
“Ellen?”
I sighed, partly from relief, partly from sadness. “Hi.”
He looked from me to the paramedics, who had started lowering Gabriel’s body to the ground. “Oh, crap!”
The uniformed cop came jogging up. “Got a bar full of hysterical people in there,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the bistro door, which was now closed. “They just noticed the deader. This is the one who made the call,” he added, indicating Dee.
“OK, I’ll handle it from here,” Tony said. “You keep a lid on the bar.”
“Roger.”
The cop jogged away again. Tony turned to me with an incredulous look.
“I did not find this body,” I blurted. Stupid, defensive remark.
Tony’s gaze shifted to Mick. “Your girlfriend?”
“My sister.”
“It’s Dee,” I added. “She’s freezing. Could we get her inside?”
Tony glanced toward the bistro and shook his head. “Not in there.”
“What about the zaguan?” I said, indicating the entrance I had come through. “At least it’s out of the wind.”
“Yeah, OK, but we might have to get out of the way.” He shot a glance toward the balcony. “It’s going to get busy here.”
We moved into the passage, which was dark but slightly warmer. I could see Tony’s bike double-parked a little way down the street, lights flashing. Mick leaned against the wall, hugging Dee to him.
“Mind taking off the hood?” Tony said to her.
She glanced at me, then carefully peeled back her veil and the hood, revealing her skull makeup. Tony blinked, then took out his pocket notebook. He made a note and frowned, turning to me with a somber look.
“Do I need to take myself off this case?”
“What? No! Well...I don’t know. I don’t think so. I wasn’t here.”
He sighed. “Better start at the beginning.”
I gathered myself, trying to find the nerve to tell Tony about the glints of light I’d seen earlier in the plaza. I couldn’t do it. He would think I’d gone nuts.
I swallowed. “The hanged man is Gabriel Rhodes—”
“How do you know?” Tony broke in.
“I doubt there are two costumes like that in the city.”
He glanced toward the plazuela, where the paramedics now had Gabriel on the ground. “OK, go on.”
“Gabriel and his friends hired the tearoom for a private party tonight. A masquerade. There was supposed to be a...dramatic unmasking at midnight. That’s why Dee’s in costume.”
Tony looked again at Dee, made a note, then looked back at me. “Wait a minute. If there’s a party at your place, what is he doing here?” He turned his frown on Dee. “And what are you doing here?”
“I was in the kitchen, waiting for midnight,” she said, “and I saw him run by the window. It seemed wrong; he was running really fast. So I went out the back door and followed him. I saw him turn at the end of the driveway, and when I got there he was turning onto Palace.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“N-no—that is, there were a lot of people walking around on the street. Lot of costumes.”
“Anyone else running?”
“Not that I saw.”
Tony wrote in his notebook. “So you followed him through the crowd.”
“Yes. I couldn’t get close to him, but I could see his costume ahead. I think he stopped in front of the Palace of the Governors for a little, under the portal, but I didn’t catch up. By the time I got there he’d crossed the street. Then he turned in here.”
Dee paused and shivered. Mick rubbed her upper arms.
“I didn’t see him at first,” she said. “It was dark. I heard the music and went over to the bar, but he wasn’t there. I started to go in to look for him but they wanted a cover charge, so I came back out. That’s when I saw him.”
“What did you see?” Tony asked quickly.
“I saw him hanging there. He wasn’t trying to get free or anything. Just limp, and swinging back and forth a little.” Dee gave a little hiccup and I caught her hand. She gripped mine fiercely.
“How long between when he turned in here and you got here?”
“I’m not sure. I had to wait for traffic before I could cross the street. A couple minutes, maybe?”
A squad car pulled up outside, spilling flashing light into the passage. Two uniformed cops got out. We stood back as Tony directed them through.
“Then what?” he said to Dee.
“I ran in here. There was no one in the garden. I saw a flash of light, probably a reflection from a jewel on the costume, and looked up.” Dee paused to swallow and take a breath. “I called 911, and then I called Ellen.”
Tony shifted his gaze to me.
“I’d been looking for Gabriel for a few minutes,” I said. “One of the guests fainted and I wanted to let him know. I went through the whole house, then into the kitchen. Mick told me that Dee had taken off out the back door, and I knew something was wrong. I left Ramon in charge—Oh! What time is it?”
I glanced at my phone. Quarter to twelve.
“I should get back there.”
“Finish first,” Tony said. “What next?”
“Dee called and told me she’d found Gabriel and thought he was dead. I asked Mick to drive me here. He dropped me off and I came in and
found Dee standing in the garden, looking up at...the balcony. Then two policeman got here, then the paramedics.”
Tony finished writing. “OK. How many people are at this party?”
“About fifty,” I said, and he winced.
“Great.” He glanced toward the paramedics. “Stay here a minute. Be right back.”
“Please, can we get Dee inside?” I asked as he walked away. He held up a hand with one finger skyward, telling us to wait.
“He’s really dead, isn’t he?” Dee said in a small voice, then gave a small, gulping sob.
I hugged her and Mick both, fighting my own tears. A cop started stringing yellow tape across the stairs to the balcony.
Until then, I hadn’t had time to think about the gleams of light. Now I remembered, and it all seemed surreal. Had Captain Dusenberry been trying to warn me? If so, how on earth could I have known what he meant?
Tony came back and looked at each of us in turn. “Ellen, come with me. You two, stay here.”
He led me into the plazuela, toward the paramedics. “I need you to identify him. There’s no I.D. on him.”
“It’s back at the house.”
“Any idea why he’d kill himself?”
I looked at him, shocked by the suggestion. “None. I would have sworn he wouldn’t!”
Tony gazed back flatly. “How well do you know him?”
“Not that well. I met him a couple of weeks ago. He’s—a friend of Kris’s.”
Tony lowered his chin. “And?”
I swallowed. “They were dating.”
“Hm.” Tony looked toward the paramedics, then back at me. “You OK to look?”
I cringed inside, but said, “Yes.”
We stepped up to where Gabriel lay. His mask was on the ground beside him, and I caught my breath.
Even in the moonlight, I could see that his face was painted like the sun, with golden-white beams and flame-like rays that almost seemed to glow. There was something metallic in the makeup.
His final work of art, that he would have revealed at midnight. The waste of his talent brought up the tears I’d been fighting.
“Need to look closer?” Tony asked.
I didn’t, but I knelt beside Gabriel anyway. His face was not bloated, by which I knew that his neck must have broken. The painting was mostly undamaged, though I could see now that it was smudged in a couple of places, probably where the paramedics had handled him. His golden hair splayed beneath his head, continuing the illusion of rays of light.
“Is that him?” Tony said, standing over me.
“Yes,” I whispered. I drew a shuddering breath, then leaned back on my heels and spoke louder. “Yes. That’s Gabriel Rhodes.”
“OK. Let’s go.”
Tony helped me up and we turned away as the paramedics closed in again. He talked briefly to one of the cops, who nodded.
“It sounds like I have around fifty people to interview,” Tony said bitterly as we walked back to the passage. “I hope none of them have left.”
I wiped at my eyes. “I’m sure there’s a guest list.”
“You didn’t make it yourself?”
“It’s not my party. Kris will have a list.”
God. Poor Kris.
His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth as if to ask a question, then looked at Dee and shifted gears. “Where’s your car?” he asked Mick.
“On Otero Street,” Mick said.
“I’m going to escort you to it, then follow you to Ellen’s. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tony threw me a wry glance, then walked out to his motorcycle, talking on his phone. He fired up the bike and turned it around in the street, then paced us as Mick led me and Dee to his car, parked on a side street.
“You get in front,” I told Dee, and was grateful when Mick turned the heater on full blast. Even in my velvet dress, my hands were getting cold.
We cruised sedately to the house, Tony right behind us. As we turned into the driveway, my phone rang. It was Kris.
“Where are you?” she said in a panicked voice. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“I’m here,” I said as Mick parked and turned off the engine. “Go upstairs, I’ll talk to you there.”
I hung up before she could answer. Better to have that conversation in person.
A couple of Goths were on the bench on the back portal, smoking. The coals of their cigarettes glowed in the shadows.
Tony opened the car door for Dee. “I want you to go upstairs and not talk to anyone, OK?”
She nodded. “OK.”
“You, too,” he said to Mick.
“I’ll take them up,” I said.
“No, you stay here. I need your help.”
Dee was shivering, but looked calm otherwise, as much as I could tell through the makeup. I turned to Mick.
“There’s a throw on the chaise longue in my office. Tell Kris I’ll be up as soon as I—”
“There you are!” Kris’s shout cut in.
She was standing in the hall doorway, her violet diadem glinting in the moonlight. She reminded me of the Queen of the Night from The Magic Flute, glorious in her outrage.
“Where’s Gabriel?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”
I looked to Tony, who had his cop face on. “Everybody inside,” he said. “You, too,” he told the smokers.
They grumbled and stubbed out their cigarettes. I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose at the smell as we went in.
The clock began striking twelve.
14
The guests fell silent. Kris’s eyes widened as Dee passed her, going through the door.
Tony took my arm and murmured in my ear. “I’ve got backup coming but until then I need you to help me keep everyone together.”
He flipped on the hall lights, which evoked a gasp from the crowd. Mysterious shadows turned into people in costumes and winced at the light. They stared at Dee as Tony pushed through to the stairs, directing Mick and Dee to go up with a gesture as the final stroke of midnight rang through the house.
“OK, everyone in the main room,” he said, gesturing to the north parlor.
“That won’t work,” I said quickly. “They should stay in the hall.”
Tony shot me a look, then took a step toward the main parlor and stopped when he saw the drapery walls. “What is this?”
“It’s for the party. Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘Masque of the Red Death.’”
He gave me a long, hard stare. “All right, lock the front door and stand in front of it. No one goes out.”
I obeyed. Kris came to stand beside me as Tony went into the gift shop. He turned on the light and dove through Poppy to the back alcoves, shooing people out.
“What’s going on?” Kris whispered.
“I’d better let Tony tell you.”
Her frown deepened. Cherie came and joined us.
“Did you find Gabriel?” she asked.
Kris shook her head, then looked at me. I felt like a traitor, but I knew Tony’d be furious if I told them anything. I watched the people coming out of the gift shop instead. Two fairies, a vampire, and a goblin who was almost as green as the Bird Woman had been—God, was it just that afternoon? It seemed an eternity ago.
Tony went through the whole ground floor, turning on lights and chasing everyone into the hall. Roberto and Gwyneth sat on one of the love seats against the wall, with Gwyneth’s admirers clustered around them. Margo sat in a wing chair, nodding absently as Maleficent, in the neighboring chair, talked to her. Dale and the leaf-masked nature spirit, whose costume was much more elaborate than I’d been able to tell in candlelight, stood by the foot of the stairs with Ramon.
Tony came out of the dining parlor, closed the door behind him, and walked up to me. “Anyone outside?”
“Possibly.”
He pressed his lips together, then pulled out his phone and made a call as he walked to the back door. I saw him throw the deadbolt before he came back to the edge of the group now clu
stered in the hall.
“OK, I need everyone’s attention,” he bellowed in a voice that would have been beautiful onstage. I’d never heard him do that before.
The guests all looked at him, waiting. He took out a small, black leather case and held it up, displaying his badge.
“I’m Detective Aragón. There’s been a mishap involving one of the guests. I need to talk to each of you before you leave. It’s going to take a while, so just be patient.”
He came toward me, Goths parting before him like the Red Sea even as they started to murmur. “I need the guest list.”
“It’s in my desk,” Kris said. “I’ll go get it.”
“No,” he said as she took a step toward the stairs. “You stay here. Ellen will get it.”
Kris looked at me, going pale. “In the file drawer. The folder labeled ‘Masque’.”
I nodded and hurried up the stairs. Mick and Dee were sitting by the front window, talking quietly. I fetched the list and went back down, handing it to Tony. No one had moved.
“OK,” he said, looking at Kris. “You first. Come with me.”
The clock tolled the quarter hour as Tony led Kris to the dining parlor, ushered her in, and shut the door. The guests began talking louder.
Cherie turned to me. “What happened?”
I shook my head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say anything.”
“Is Gabriel all right?”
The whoop of a siren outside saved me from having to reply. I peeked around the black fabric covering the lights by the door, and saw a squad car double-parked out front, red lights flashing. A second one pulled up behind it. I unlocked the door and waited for them to ring the bell, which they did while simultaneously pounding on the door.
“Where’s Detective Aragón?” said a man with light brown hair in a buzz-cut and a mustache. Behind him stood a frowning middle-aged Hispanic cop, and I saw two more uniforms starting to search the garden.
“He’s interviewing my business manager. I’m the owner, Ellen Rosings.”
The buzz-cut guy traded a look and a sideways nod with the Hispanic guy, who took up a stance guarding the door. “Take me to him.”
A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) Page 17
