“I can see that,” Chucky said. “You have a stubborn streak a mile wide. The Jason costume is over here, by the way.”
I clutched the Wonder Woman costume tighter and carried it in the direction he indicated. Damien didn’t miss my attachment to the costume, but he wisely refrained from commenting.
Chucky stopped by a rack filled with mostly dark clothing and riffled through the hangers. He stopped when he found what he was looking for and lifted it out. It definitely looked like the outfit my friend in the parking lot wore the day I messed up my knee.
“I think that’s it,” I said, resting the Wonder Woman costume over my arm as I leaned forward to study it. “Is there a tear on the arm?”
“Do you remember which arm you damaged?” Damien asked, grabbing the one nearest to him. “How badly did you rip it?”
I searched my memory and pointed toward the arm closest to Chucky. “It should be that one. I didn’t actually see it rip, but I heard it.”
“Hold on,” Chucky said, shifting the garment so he could give it a closer look. “Yeah, the seam is ripped here. It doesn’t look like anyone tried to mend it. If I had to guess, whoever it was wore this when they went after you in the parking lot.”
“Why does it matter that no one tried to mend it?” I asked.
“The wardrobe people go through every costume and make sure they’re up to standards between gigs,” Damien explained. “They have to pass inspection or be replaced. This one wouldn’t pass inspection.”
“But would they inspect it if they thought no one wore it?”
“Everything is inspected,” Chucky replied. “Some things go off schedule. That’s just part of the drill. That means everything is inspected between jobs.”
“What about the list?” I asked. “You said people had to sign out costumes.”
“Oh, yeah,” Damien said, moving away from the rack and opening a chest on the floor a few feet away. He picked up a clipboard and studied it, his eyes busy as they scanned each line. “According to this, no one signed out the Jason costume. That’s not exactly uncommon, but you could lose your job for not following the rules.”
Something occurred to me. “Maybe someone signed out a different costume,” I suggested. “Maybe they followed the rules and pretended to sign out something else as a way to cover their tracks.”
“That’s a good idea,” Damien said, pointing. “What day were you attacked?”
“Thursday.”
“We shouldn’t have had a lot of costumes signed out that day,” Chucky said. “People have their own costumes they’re responsible for. These costumes are just stopgaps if something comes up at the last minute.”
“I understand,” I said, waiting for Damien to go over the list. “Anything?”
“There is one thing that doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Damien answered. “Someone checked out the Captain America costume on Thursday.”
“Why does that stand out? You said everything was superheroes these days.”
“It is,” Damien said. “We don’t have a Captain America costume right now, though. The one we had was ruined two stops ago. Someone ripped the seams and we had to order an entirely new outfit made from scratch. We’re not due to get it for another two weeks.”
“How do you know that?”
“He’s the one who ripped it,” Chucky said, smirking.
That was a surprise. I didn’t know Captain America was popular on the Goth scene. “You were Captain America?”
“I have a fetish,” Damien snapped. “Let it go.”
“Fine. Don’t worry about it.” I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Who checked out the other costume?”
“Delroy.” Damien said the name as if it was supposed to mean something to me. He looked troubled as he exchanged a weighted look with Chucky.
“Who is Delroy?”
“He’s the boss’s nephew,” Chucky explained. “He’s a floater because he can’t do anything else.”
I was missing something. “Why not?”
“He’s just a little odd,” Chucky replied.
“He means slow,” Damien corrected. “He’s slow developmentally. It’s not something you’d notice right away. After a few minutes of talking to him, though, you can’t help but notice.”
Well, that was odd. “Is he violent?”
“Never.”
“Maybe there’s something else going on,” I suggested. “Maybe he checked out the costume for someone else and didn’t realize he was being manipulated.”
“That’s a good idea,” Damien said. He looked relieved that I came up with a scenario that relieved Delroy of the onus of being the bad guy. “I just can’t see him attacking anyone.”
“Is there any way you guys can get him back here?” I asked, an idea forming. “Maybe if we can question him away from people and not make it an attack … .”
“We can try,” Damien said, brightening at the suggestion. “He likes me. I’ll find him and get him back here. Just as long as you don’t think he’s guilty, I’m happy to help you.”
“I have trouble believing anyone without a motive is guilty,” I said. “The way you guys make it sound, Delroy would have no motive. I only want to talk to him. If someone is using him, I want to know that, too.”
“That makes two of us,” Damien said grimly. “It might take me a few minutes to find him. You guys hang tight here.”
“No problem,” I said, turning back to the Wonder Woman costume. “I don’t suppose I could … ?” I left the question hanging, mildly embarrassed.
“There’s a curtain to change behind over there,” Chucky said, pointing. “Knock yourself out.”
“Awesome,” I said, excited. I handed him my cell phone. “When I come out, you’re going to have to take photographs. I’m going to send naughty texts to my boyfriend.”
“You’re a freaking trip,” Chucky said, grinning. “I like you, though.”
“Right back at you.”
It looked as if this was definitely going to be my lucky day after all.
“I LOOK freaking awesome!”
I’m often weighed down with a humility that most people can’t grasp or accept. Looking at myself in the mirror after donning the Wonder Woman costume, I was overcome with hubris. Okay, I’m lying. My ego was huge. Somehow the costume made my thighs look slimmer and my bust two sizes bigger. That’s amazing no matter how you look at it.
“You look pretty interesting,” Chucky said, shaking his head as he looked me up and down. “You even fill out the top.”
“There’s a built-in bra,” I replied. “I can’t take credit for that. You can adjust the padding, too.”
“Still, you look great.”
“I feel … wonderful.”
“Ha, ha,” Chucky said. “Where are the bracelets?”
Ooh, I almost forgot the best part. “They’re right here,” I said, grabbing them from the small chair behind the curtain and slapping them on. “Now I look even better.”
“You need a black wig,” Chucky said, causing me to make a face. “Or not.”
“I can be a blond Wonder Woman,” I argued. “There’s no rule that she has to be a brunette.”
“I wouldn’t make that opinion known on the convention floor,” Chucky said. “You might start a riot.”
I snorted. “I’m Wonder Woman. I can stop a riot with one arm tied behind my back.”
The door to the storage room opened to allow Damien entrance. The man behind him was large … hulking … and my heart constricted as he grew closer. Damien’s eyes lit up when he saw me in the costume and he burst out laughing. I was too distracted by the man behind him to muster the appropriate glare to silence Damien. When the man – who I assumed was Delroy – locked his dark eyes with mine there was recognition, although confusion lurked, too. He was the man who attacked me in the parking lot. I was certain.
I took an inadvertent step back. “It’s him.”
“What’s him?” Damien asked, confused.
“He was the guy in the parking lot.”
Damien’s eyes widened as he glanced over his shoulder and stared at Delroy. “No way. He’s not capable of it.”
He was capable of it, but without a motive I was still leery to call him a suspect in Kristen’s death. There had to be more to the story. We were missing something. I licked my lips and pasted a bright smile on my face as I regarded Delroy. He was nervous, shifting from one foot to the other, and I didn’t want to give him cause to bolt out the door before I asked a few questions.
“Do you remember me, Delroy?”
Delroy’s eyes widened, almost as if he was trying to understand how I knew his name. “I … no.”
He was lying. We all knew it.
“Are you sure, Delroy?” Damien asked, confusion and disappointment warring for supremacy on his face. “I think you might know her. Take a closer look.”
“She’s Wonder Woman,” Delroy said. “I know Wonder Woman, although her hair is too yellow. She’s not right for the costume.”
That snapped me out of my sympathetic doldrums. “Hey! I’m an awesome Wonder Woman. It doesn’t matter that I’m blond. It only matters that I fight crime and look freaking amazing while doing it.”
Delroy wasn’t impressed with my diatribe. “She’s not Wonder Woman.”
I sighed. “No, I’m not Wonder Woman,” I agreed. “I am a reporter, though. Do you remember me from the parking lot the other day?”
Delroy looked conflicted. “I … can’t drive. I don’t go in the parking lot.”
“He’s confused,” Chucky said. “We probably shouldn’t press this. Maybe we should go to his uncle and talk to him.”
“I’m not interested in getting him in trouble,” I countered. “I don’t think he did what he did because he wanted to hurt me. I think there’s something else going on.”
“Like what?” Damien asked.
I shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know yet.”
“Then how do you know he didn’t do it himself?” Damien pressed.
“I just have a feeling,” I answered. “I’ve learned to trust my feelings.” I took a step forward, keeping my hands palms up as I tried to think of the best way to approach Delroy. Finally I opted to mix the truth with a few lies. That’s usually the way I roll, so there’s no reason to break from tradition. “You’re not in trouble, Delroy. I need to know why you went after me in the parking lot, though. Did someone tell you to do that?”
“I … didn’t.” Delroy, the muted light bouncing off his bald head, looked as if he was going to cry. “I’m not bad.”
“You’re not bad,” I agreed. “I don’t think you meant to hurt me. Er, well, I don’t think you mean to hurt me yourself. I do think that you remember going after me in the parking lot, though.”
“You were the one who hurt me,” Delroy shot back. “You hurt me bad.”
Chucky lifted an eyebrow. “You hurt him?”
“Hey, he had a knife and tackled me in the parking lot,” I argued. “He also kept wrestling me like we were on the WWE or something. I did what I had to do.”
“What did you do?”
“I might’ve grabbed his nuts and twisted … hard.”
Damien and Chucky sucked in twin sounds of disgust, both instinctively shielding their groin areas.
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “I … .” My heart hopped when the storage room door opened, cutting me off. A dark figure stood in the opening for a moment before moving forward. I was almost relieved when I realized it was Eliot. That feeling lasted only until I saw the look on his face. He was furious. “Hi, honey.”
“Don’t do that,” Eliot warned, anger practically wafting off of him as he closed the distance. “Where have you been? I’ve been texting you for ten minutes. I lost sight of you and when you didn’t respond … .”
“Whoops,” Chucky said, holding up my phone. “Your phone has been buzzing in my pocket. I forgot to tell you.”
Eliot was incensed. “Why does he have your phone?”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t find a spot for it when I was changing into the Wonder Woman costume and I wanted to be able to hear if it rang. I forgot I turned it to silent before bed last night.”
Eliot pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead as he glanced around, his gaze finally coming back to me. “Why are you in that outfit?”
“I … .” My cheeks burned under the scrutiny. “I wanted to fight crime.”
“Why really?”
“Because Damien and Chucky thought the Jason costume might be in here – which it is – and then we realized Delroy was probably the one in it. While Damien went to find Delroy I was stuck here with nothing to do and … you could at least tell me how awesome I look.”
Eliot’s expression softened, marginally. “You look really cute.”
“She’s not supposed to have yellow hair,” Delroy argued, drawing Eliot’s attention to him. “She’s all wrong. She’s not Wonder Woman.”
“She’s my Wonder Woman,” Eliot countered. “What’s the deal with this guy? Is he the one who attacked you?”
I nodded. “I don’t think he did it for himself, though.”
“I figured that out on my own,” Eliot said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Has he told you why he did it?”
“I’m not bad!” Delroy barked. “I didn’t do anything bad.”
“Ah, I can see where this is going right now.” Eliot glanced at me. “Okay, I’m going to take Delroy to talk to Jake. I think it would be best if you weren’t there, because you seem to make him nervous.”
“But … I’m Wonder Woman.”
Eliot smiled and this time the expression was genuine. “You’re better than Wonder Woman,” he said. “As much as I never thought I’d say it, though, you need to get out of that costume and wait outside the security room. Do you think you can do that?”
“But … we haven’t even taken photographs yet.”
Eliot sighed, resigned. “Fine. Take your photographs. Can you guys drop her at the security office before going back to your booth?”
Damien and Chucky solemnly nodded, although Damien looked reluctant to leave Delroy’s side.
“I think you should take Damien with you,” I suggested. “Delroy should have someone he knows with him.”
“Okay,” Eliot said. “I’ll do that. You stay close to this guy, though. Wow, there’s something else I never thought I would say. I’m actually urging you to hang out with another dude.”
“It’s okay,” Chucky said. “I’m gay. Her boobs look great, but I don’t really roll that way.”
“Yes, her boobs do look great, but she’s still a pain,” Eliot said. “Take a lot of good photos ... and send me a few … and then wait for me right outside the security office. Can you do that?”
I nodded.
“Do you promise?”
I nodded again.
“Okay,” Eliot said, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead and tugging the bodice of the costume out so he could look inside. “We’ll talk about the costume later – and probably buy one to take home.”
I watched him go, a mixture of worry and sadness threatening to overwhelm me. Delroy looked back over his shoulder twice, his gaze locking with mine as his brow furrowed. Something was definitely going on here. Something was not right.
30
Thirty
After staring at myself in the mirror – and posing for fifty photographs – I was still reluctant to strip out of the Wonder Woman costume. For some odd reason it made me feel empowered. Of course, the boots were difficult to walk in, the corset was tight enough I worried about oxygen deprivation and my pumped up breasts were actually getting cold.
It was a small price to pay for being a superhero, though.
I was so lost in thought staring at myself that I didn’t immediately notice the storage room door open until Chucky’s attention drifted in that direction. I cast a glance over my shoulder, meeting Griswold’s wide-eyed stare with a sh
eepish smile, and then turned back to the mirror.
“What’s going on?” Griswold asked, confused. “Are you joining the convention circuit?”
“Hardly,” I replied, smoothing the corset down around my hips. “I don’t think I would do well with convention folk as a whole – although you two seem fine – but I do love this costume.”
“She has a Wonder Woman fetish,” Chucky offered.
“Like Damien’s Captain America fetish?”
Chucky shrugged. “It might be worse.”
Now I was definitely going to have to hear this Captain America story. “No offense, but Damien doesn’t seem the type to want to fight for truth, justice and the American way like Captain America.”
“We all have our secret desires,” Chucky said, pointedly gesturing toward my costume. “I wouldn’t peg you as a Wonder Woman fan.”
“He’s right,” Griswold said. “You’re more of a Harley Quinn girl, if you ask me.”
I could see that. “She’s a little unbalanced for my taste,” I said. “It’s too bad Darth Vader doesn’t wear a corset. I could totally get behind that.”
Griswold barked out a laugh before sobering. “I saw Delroy being taken to the security office. Does anyone know what that’s about?”
“He was involved in an incident in the parking lot,” I replied.
“He might’ve been involved with Kristen’s death, too,” Chucky added.
Griswold’s mouth dropped open as he worked it, but no sound came out. He was clearly trying to figure out the ramifications of the statement. Finally he found his voice. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that. Who could possibly believe that?”
“I’m not sure I believe it either,” Chucky admitted. “He attacked Avery in the parking lot, though, and she recognized him. I don’t see why she would lie.”
“No offense to Ms. Shaw, but … I prefer having more than one source.”
“That’s how it is in the newspaper business, too,” I said, unbothered by his doubt as I shifted my shoulders. I really did make a fantastic Wonder Woman. “I always try to get more than one source.”
“So how many sources do you have on this?” Griswold pressed.
Bylines & Skylines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 9) Page 26
