High Jinx

by Shannon Esposito

  It was a beautiful fall evening with a clear night sky bursting with stars, but after a while I migrated to huddle by one of the tiki torches as the air held a bit too much of a chill for my comfort once I’d cooled off – especially in this skimpy costume. Devon moved over to wrap his arms around me from behind as he started a conversation with Beth Anne’s husband, who’d joined us. He wore a funny little mustache and top hat and introduced himself to us as Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie’s most famous detective. Apparently his real name was Carl and he was a sculptor.

  ‘You’ve never met him?’ Carl was saying when I tuned back into the conversation.

  ‘Haven’t had the pleasure,’ Devon replied.

  ‘It would not be your pleasure, I assure you.’ They were talking about Oliver White, the Australian art dealer and casino owner who lived next door. Carl’s tone suggested foreboding. ‘Look up narcissist in the dictionary and there’ll be a picture of Oliver.’

  Voices suddenly rose at a loud pitch as an argument headed our way. I recognized Michael Beckley, Selene’s husband, even though he was dressed as Elvis in a sparkling white jumpsuit with a black wig concealing his bald head. I didn’t, however, recognize the girl with spiky black hair and a purple streak in her bangs yelling at him or the thin woman trailing them with her head down, cradling a kitten on a leash.

  As they approached, I could see the normally jolly Michael was about to blow a gasket. His face was beet red beneath the wig. He didn’t seem to notice or care about the wake of silence the trio was leaving behind through the crowd. Even the band had stopped playing and the fire-eaters stopped shoving flames down their throats.

  ‘You owe me an explanation!’ The girl screamed into the stillness. Even the frogs and insects stopped chirping.

  Michael whirled on her, his fists clenched. ‘I. Owe. You. Nothing. Get off of my property.’

  The words were spit with such vitriol, I cringed.

  The purple-haired girl stopped like she’d hit a brick wall and slid her arm around the woman with the kitten. Her lips pulled back from gritted teeth. ‘We’ll just see what Mom has to say about this.’

  Michael let out a frustrated growl as the two women trekked off through the backyard hand in hand. The crowd parted to let them pass and they slipped into the house through French doors on the other end of the mansion.

  ‘Sorry about that, folks,’ Michael bellowed, regaining his composure. ‘Please, continue enjoying the festivities.’

  We watched him follow the same path into the mansion as the women had taken. After the low murmuring of gossip began, the band resumed their song.

  ‘What in heaven’s name was that all about?’ I asked, resting my hands on Devon’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I suddenly felt the need for reassurance.

  ‘Not sure.’ Carl’s eyes narrowed in thought. ‘But I think that was their daughter, Cali. I haven’t seen her here in a few years.’

  ‘His daughter? Sounded like a pretty major fight. I wonder what could make a father so angry at his own daughter?’ It may have been selfish and I did feel a bit guilty, but I was secretly glad to see another family fighting, especially one with money. Maybe my relationship with my mother wasn’t so abnormal after all.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll work it out.’ Beth Anne waved off the drama. Her amber eyes sparked behind the fake glasses as they reflected the tiki torch flame at my back. ‘I just can’t wait to find out what Michael’s big Halloween prank is going to be this year.’

  ‘Prank?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, last year he dropped a hundred tiny mechanical spiders down on the guests.’ Beth Anne shivered and adjusted her wig. ‘They felt real as all get out. Caused complete pandemonium. Some of the guests even jumped into the pool to get ’em off. It was funny … eventually.’

  Violet chuckled, turning her attention from Jarvis, though she kept a hand on his hip. ‘Yeah, well, Selene forbade him from doing anything that would disturb the party like that again this year.’

  Speaking of Selene, I should look for her soon. I needed to get paid so I could fix my broken car, which Devon had so gallantly towed to his bungalow with his Jeep.

  When the conversation turned to stories of past Halloween parties and who’d hired which designer for their costumes, I decided to go look for her. Besides, I really had to pee.

  I leaned my head back to look up at Devon. ‘I’m going to go find the ladies’ room. Want me to grab you a drink while I’m daring the crowd?’

  ‘Sure. A Guinness if you can find one.’ He kissed me softly. ‘Hurry back.’

  ‘Will do.’ I slipped from his arms and followed the same path into the house as Michael and his daughter had before. This led me to the opposite wing from the one I’d been in with Flavia. As I entered the wide hallway and rounded a pillar, someone wearing a flowery robe and a wooden mask bumped into me. The tall figure stopped and stared down at me through the tiny slits in the wood. Then he or she kept going, jarring my shoulder violently on the way out. ‘Ow.’ I rubbed my shoulder. Rude. Or drunk. Or maybe they couldn’t see so well through the small slits. I shrugged it off and walked further into the large marble-floored hallway.

  It was quieter here. The crowd must all be congregated in the grand room and outside. I enjoyed the silence as I peered into each room I passed looking for a restroom. One room was dark, but I could still see various pieces of art hanging on the walls as cluttered shadows around the room. Interesting, but the important thing was it didn’t look like the kind of room that had a bathroom. The pressure on my bladder was getting intense.

  A young maid suddenly darted past me. ‘Excuse me, sorry,’ she said breathlessly over her shoulder. Surely she would know where there was a restroom. I followed her lead, stepping into the kitchen, where chaos seemed the norm with things steaming and clanging and people talking over each other. I glanced at a squat man expertly wielding a monster knife to dice an onion and muttering to himself. Nope, wouldn’t ask him. Another woman was sliding some kind of individual portions of what looked like cheesecake onto a tray and yelling at the young maid for not being where she was supposed to be. To my embarrassment, I noted our outfits looked very similar.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I said, stepping deeper into the kitchen.

  When the maid turned, I realized it was the same girl I’d seen picking up towels on my previous trek through the mansion. She eyed my costume and smiled warmly at me.

  The woman’s eyes were not so kind. ‘Yes?’ she barked.

  ‘I was just looking for a restroom?’

  The maid seemed to take pity on me. Before the woman could bark again, she cut in, saying, ‘My room is just across the hall. You can use the restroom there.’

  ‘Oh.’ I felt both relieved and surprised at her generosity. ‘Thank you. My bladder thanks you, too.’ We shared a smile and I left the kitchen.

  I found her room and the large restroom attached to it. When I came back out, I was less focused on my full bladder, so when I passed her dresser I stopped. There was a photo of her with her arm around one of the maids I recognized from The Pampered Pup, a sweet girl named Novia Morales. The resemblance was there. Sisters? Then I noticed a framed photo of the maid with Michael Beckley. They were both sweaty and had huge smiles and a number taped to their shirts. They must’ve run a race together. I wondered just how cozy their relationship was. Then I noticed the two dolls leaning against that frame, bound together with twine. There was no mistaking their purpose. They were voodoo dolls.

  FOUR

  As I was stepping out of the bedroom, I ran smack into a lady in a cat costume. I grabbed her shoulders as I saw her toppling over. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’

  Her glassy gray eyes tried to focus on my face. She giggled. ‘Yes, yes. Fine.’ Then a cat claw came up and pushed into my chest. ‘Flavia asked me to come find you. She’s supposed to get the semolina cake out of the oven in a few minutes but can’t get her wheelchair through the crowd.’ She leaned over and I involuntarily
jerked away from the assault of whiskey breath. ‘Between you and me, I think she just wants to go find Selene, who’s disappeared from the party along with that personal trainer she’s been glued to all night. Lord, have you seen that man’s loin cloth?’ Her eyes became unfocused for a moment and then she waved. ‘Anyway, they were getting real cozy before they took off.’

  ‘Took off?’ I’d never get my paycheck from her at this rate.

  She licked her dry lips and poked me again. ‘You need to go get the cake out for her in Flavia’s kitchen. Brush it with butter and don’t forget the syrup.’

  ‘Oh.’ I held up a hand. ‘But I’m not …’

  ‘Now, before it’s ruined!’ she ordered. Then she twirled around and stumbled back down the hallway, singing what sounded like a mix of opera and someone stepping on her tail at an alarming volume.

  I sighed. Well, that’s what I get for coming out of the maid’s room in a maid outfit. OK, fine. I could handle getting a cake out of an oven and putting some butter and syrup on it. Maybe I’d even find a Guinness in the kitchen for Devon.

  I trekked back outside and navigated my way to Flavia’s kitchen from there. The French doors guarded by cactus were shut but not locked. I slipped in and immediately squealed and clutched my heart. Hanging from the wood rafters was a body.

  My hands flew to my mouth. ‘Oh my God!’ But then I recognized the blue-tinged face and the Elvis costume and irritation rose to replace the fear. ‘Mr Beckley.’ The Halloween prank. Of course. My shaking legs barely carried me over to where he was dangling with his arms at his sides, a noose around his neck.

  ‘You scared the living daylights out of me. So, your prank this year is to give your mother-in-law a heart attack?’ I crossed my arms, not amused. Though, I had to give it to him. He had done a great job on the make-up.

  Moving behind him, I spotted the cable running down the rope and underneath his white sparkly jumpsuit. ‘Huh. I always wondered how they did that in movies.’ I suddenly smelled the cake burning. ‘Crap.’ Racing over to the low oven, I grabbed two oven mitts and pulled the door open. A thin layer of gray smoke wafted out. ‘Great.’ I slid the cake out carefully and placed it on the counter. Staring at the pre-cut pieces, I groaned. I was pretty sure they were not supposed to be black on top. Flavia wasn’t going to be happy. And unlike Mr Beckley, I didn’t want to be the one to cause her unhappiness.

  Sighing, I threw the oven mitts on the counter. No use buttering and syruping burnt cake.

  As I passed Mr Beckley to leave, I said, ‘You’re going to have a while to wait. Flavia’s …’ I looked up at him. ‘Flavia’s stuck in the grand room.’ I didn’t want to be the one to inform him that Selene had pulled a disappearing act with her personal trainer and Flavia might be trying to track them down. ‘Mr Beckley? OK, you know what. You’re doing a great job staying in character but could you just nod to acknowledge you heard me?’

  I waited. I moved closer. I got a really bad feeling. The sounds of the laughter and music outside faded into the background as my attention narrowed. ‘Mr Beckley? Michael?’ I whispered. Oh, God. Stepping forward reluctantly, I kept my head tilted up to watch his face as I reached out and grabbed his wrist. If he scared me right now I would kill him. He was warm but there was no resistance. Closing my eyes, I felt for a pulse. There was none. I shook his arm. ‘Michael!’ I backed away and then stumbled back through the kitchen door into the backyard.

  ‘Somebody help!’ I screamed.

  ‘Miss Pressley.’ Detective Farnsworth eyed me as he pulled out the patio chair. It made a scraping sound on the stone that set my already fried nerves on edge. He lowered himself into the chair, oblivious. ‘Nice to see you again.’ He obviously didn’t mean it. His gaze slid to Devon, who had his arm protectively around my shoulder. ‘I’m going to need to speak to Miss Pressley alone.’

  I grabbed Devon’s hand, my body starting to shake again under the beach towel he’d wrapped around me. We’d been sitting there for thirty minutes already while the two Clearwater homicide detectives and a slew of officers and crime-scene techs arrived by boat and took over the party. They’d corralled everyone outside into the backyard and ordered us not to leave. Though, glancing around it seemed half the party had skedaddled before the police had arrived. ‘Does he have to go?’ I pleaded to the detective.

  ‘’Fraid so. Sorry.’ Detective Farnsworth flipped open his notepad and tapped his cheap plastic pen impatiently on the table.

  ‘It’ll be all right.’ Devon kissed my forehead. ‘I’ll just be right over there. Within eyesight.’

  I nodded. My head felt like it was floating. As I watched Devon make his way over to join the rest of the shocked partygoers, Detective Salma Vargas intercepted him. I felt a twinge of irritation. He’d been spending a lot of time with her lately since she was helping him with the investigation into his parents’ deaths in a boating accident five years ago, which Devon didn’t believe was an accident at all. The man driving the boat that had hit them had recently been released, time served, and Devon was more determined than ever to prove the man actually murdered them. As I watched Devon and Salma talk, something uncomfortable rose within me: a sharp dart of pain like a splinter in my heart. Devon should be with me right now, not her.

  ‘Miss Pressley?’ Detective Farnsworth repeated.

  I blinked and directed my attention back to him. ‘Yes. Sorry.’ What was wrong with me? I trusted Devon, and even if they had dated before he met me – I was still too chicken to confirm that hunch – he was with me now. His choice. It must be the stress. Pushing away the ridiculous thoughts, I refocused on the detective.

  ‘I realize a dead body is a shocking thing to find, especially after everything you’ve gone through recently.’ He squirmed, seemingly uncomfortable with being empathic. ‘But I need you to try and remember everything. Details are going to be important here to catch whoever did this.’

  ‘Sure.’ I pulled the beach towel tighter around my shoulders, glad to be covering up the skimpy maid outfit, and shook my head. ‘But can I ask why you think someone did this? I mean, couldn’t his harness system just have failed?’

  He squinted his eyes and pursed his lips. ‘No.’ Then he stared at me expectantly.

  ‘I can’t ask? Or his harness didn’t just fail?’

  ‘Both.’ He continued to stare at me. It was unnerving. I was starting to feel guilty. For what, I had no idea. I thought about confessing to stealing a roll of toilet paper from the Seven-Eleven bathroom when I was thirteen and Mom wasn’t in any shape to drive to the store. Luckily, he decided to start asking questions so my petty theft stayed a secret. ‘So, let’s start from the beginning. Why did you enter the kitchen?’

  ‘Because a drunk lady in a cat costume asked me to get Flavia’s cakes out of the oven.’

  He briefly looked up at me, a flash of irritation in his eyes, and then continued to scribble in his notebook. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Apparently Flavia couldn’t get her wheelchair through the crowd so she asked this cat lady to find the maid to get her Salma-something cakes out. Salma … selmo … sounded like salmonella.’

  ‘Semolina.’ Detective Farnsworth scratched his eyebrow, looking impatient, and made a circling motion with his hand. ‘Go on.’

  Geesh. Touchy. Should I let him in on the cat lady’s theory about Flavia going to look for Selene and Sven? I decided no. That was gossip and he wanted the facts. ‘I happened to be coming out of the maid’s bedroom after she let me use the bathroom in there, so drunk cat lady mistook me for her … the maid. It was easier to just go rescue the cakes rather than try to explain I was just in a maid costume.

  ‘Anyway, I saw Mr Beckley …’ I choked on his name, suddenly realizing he was no longer a person but just a corpse. That was so surreal. ‘I saw Mr Beckley hanging there as soon as I entered the kitchen and it scared the bejezus out of me.’ My body tensed up at the memory. I held my breath, waiting to feel the wave of emotion. Nothing. Exhaling, I went on: ‘Fo
r a moment I thought he was really dead but then I remembered Beth Anne Wilkins told me he pulls a prank every year. So I thought this was his prank. And it was. Only it didn’t go as planned, I guess, and he really was dead. He told me Flavia wasn’t very fond of him. Guess he was trying to scare her, right? Since he chose her kitchen to do it and must have timed it for when she’d be coming back in the kitchen to get the cakes from the oven. Did you know this place has two kitchens?’ I clamped my mouth shut. I was rambling; something I did when I got nervous. I really needed to start carrying my anti-anxiety medication with me. I didn’t like the idea of needing medication, but if there was ever a time to give myself permission, finding a dead body would be it. Though I was proud of myself for not having a panic attack, I did feel strangely numb.

  ‘To answer your question, yes, he was trying to scare his mother-in-law. Two servers backed up the maid’s claim that Mr Beckley’s plan was to scare his mother-in-law by letting her find him hanging. What did you do after you noticed the body?’

  Wow, he actually answered my question. I should return the favor. ‘Well, I, um … I took the cakes out of the oven.’

  His mouth worked back and forth and the fat below his jaws wiggled, giving him the demeanor of a bulldog, but he didn’t say anything. ‘Go on.’

  ‘They were already burnt so I didn’t bother buttering them.’ I stared at his hand clutching the pen. He had a painful-looking hangnail on his thumb. ‘Then I was leaving and I realized Michael hadn’t said anything so I asked him to nod or do something to acknowledge he was OK. It was creeping me out. He didn’t move so I touched his wrist to find a pulse and there wasn’t one. That’s when I realized he might actually be … you know … gone.’

  ‘Do you know what time that was?’

  I nodded. I’d glanced at the digital clock on the microwave after pulling out the cakes. ‘Twenty after nine.’

  He scribbled in his notebook. ‘Did you touch anything else in the kitchen?’