How to Host a Killer Party

by Penny Warner

  “Really? What?” I couldn’t contain my excitement.

  “If I tell you—”

  “You’ll have to kill me, I know.”

  “Seems there’s some kind of monkey business going on at the de Young Museum.”

  “Really?” I looked up at Brad. I don’t know if the tickle in my stomach came from hearing his startling news or looking into his sparkling eyes. “That’s interesting. One of the calls I got after the mayor’s so-called wedding was from the curator at the de Young. She wants a murder mystery fund-raiser for a new wing or exhibit or whatever.”

  Brad smiled. “Sounds like a killer party to me.”

  Jeez, I certainly hoped not.

  Still, I was no party pooper. I knew that now. And working with Brad Matthews again might just be my party favor.

  How to Host a Geocaching Treasure Hunt

  Introduction

  Adventure parties like Geocaching Treasure Hunts are raging these days, thanks to new technology and new twists on a popular theme. In the past, miners and explorers would hide a cache (pronounced “cash”) with food and emergency items. Today they’re filled with trinkets, pens and logbooks, and other fun discoveries. Teams use GPSs—electronic global positioning satellite units—to find hidden caches set up locally. The game is deceptively easy. Just key in the waypoint—longitude and latitude—to find the coordinates and off you go. But you still have to find the hidden cache, somewhere within six to twenty feet, a fun and challenging task. For added fun, consider giving your hunt a theme, such as “The Secret of Nancy Drew’s Clues,” “CSI—Your Town,” or “Halloween Haunted Hunt,” then create invitations, decorations, and caches to match the theme.

  Invitations

  Photocopy a local map, mark the party location, including coordinates, then write party details on the back.

  Include a toy compass and a clue to the first cache inside the envelope, then mail to guests.

  Costumes

  Divide up the teams ahead of time and ask each guest to come dressed in the selected team colors.

  Have everyone wear camouflage.

  Tell the guests to wear sport clothes and athletic shoes.

  Decorations

  Decorate the starting point with maps, arrows, street signs, and compasses.

  Set out some of the tiny trinkets teams will be searching for, such as:

  Troll dolls

  Foam letters of the alphabet

  Stickers

  Pins

  Candy

  Magnets

  Keychains

  Games & Activities

  To Prepare:

  You’ll need at least two GPS units for two teams, more if you divide up into more teams. Ask the guests if they have a device—many people are buying them because the prices are reasonable, as low as $100—and they’re fun to use. You can also rent a couple from electronics, camping, or boat stores, if you prefer.

  To prepare the hunt, choose a starting point—your home or off-site, at a café, park, or local landmark.

  Choose five to ten sites for the hunt, depending on how long you want the party to last, and write down the coordinates of each.

  Fill a small container, such as a plastic lidded bowl, small box, or lidded can, with enough of the same trinkets for each team. For example, if there are two teams, place two trolls in the bowl. Then insert the coordinates for the next cache.

  Hide the container at the first site.

  Repeat for each site, leaving different trinkets behind, along with new coordinates for the next sites.

  At Game Time:

  Gather the guests and divide into teams. Have them give their teams a name, such as “Trezure Seekers,” “Gold Diggers,” or “GeePers Creepers.”

  Give each team a “cheat sheet” that lists the coordinates, along with a “give-up” sheet that indicates where the hunt ends—at your home, a restaurant, etc.

  Tell the teams they must find each site using the GPS unit, retrieve a trinket from the cache, replace the cache where they found it, and continue to the next waypoint. Include a puzzling clue for added fun, such as “Look up high, perhaps a tree holds the cache for all to see.”

  Each trinket is worth a point.

  If they can’t find a cache, they can use the “spoiler” sheet to move on to the next site, but they will lose a point since they won’t be retrieving a trinket.

  The team who arrives back to the end site with the most trinkets wins the game.

  Refreshments

  Geocaching teams are likely to get thirsty on the hunt, so provide them each with a bottle of water or a sports bottle with a sports drink.

  For fun, hide some candy in a couple of the caches to discover—this will help keep the players’ energy up.

  When the teams arrive back to the end point to count up trinkets and decide on winners, they’re apt to be ravenous, so provide a buffet deli lunch or bake DIY pizzas.

  If they’ve been out in hot weather, welcome them with refreshing drinks and cold-cut platters, or make a hearty soup with hot French bread for the cold weather hunts.

  Serve food to match the terrain—gourmet entrees for city treks, veggies and salads for hunts in the park.

  Offer beer, wine, and/or soda, along with sports drinks if the weather’s warm, and hot chocolate or lattes if it’s cold outside.

  If you’re celebrating a special occasion, make or order a cake shaped like the cache—a box or bowl—and top it with all the trinkets from the hunt.

  Serve cupcakes decorated like compasses.

  Favors

  If money is no object, give them all their own GPS units.

  Have extra trinkets and give them a cacheful to take home.

  Hand out maps of local historic areas, along with recommendations for attractions.

  Give them inflatable globes, compasses, or a subscription to Google Earth.

  Tips & Options

  Send them on a tour of your town, or a historic section of another town, and offer interesting information about each place. Then quiz them when they return to the end site.

  Have them take pictures of each cache, using a digital camera or Polaroid camera, instead of taking a trinket.

  Watch out for GeoMuggles—people who might spot you finding the cache. Be subtle—remember, this is supposed to be a treasure hunt with hidden loot. You don’t want GeoMuggles to crash the cache!

  For more information about GPS hunts, go to Ground-speak at http://www.geocaching.com. It’s a great site listing all kinds of hunts in your area, where to get equipment, and how to play the game.

  Try a Letterboxing party! It’s much like a Geocaching party, played outdoors, that combines orienteering, puzzle solving, and personalized stamping. You’ll find clues hidden in boxes in public places, along with a logbook and rubber stamp. Collect the stamps in your own logbook, and leave your stamp in the letterbox logbook. For more information, go to http://letterboxing.org.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to everyone who helped me with the development and realization of Presley Parker: Gay Carter, Corinne Davis, Staci McLaughlin, Ann Parker, Connie Pike, and Carole Price. To event planners extraordinaire Andrea Camp-bell and Patty Sachs. And those who prefer to remain nameless: the police officers, security guards, and shopkeepers on Treasure Island, the park rangers at Alcatraz Island National Park, the police officers at the San Francisco Police Department (850 Bryant). Oh, and Nancy Drew.

  A very special thanks to Andrea Hurst, Amberly Finarelli, Kristen Weber, Claire Zion, Rebecca Vinter, and Sandra Harding for all their help, support, and enthusiasm.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of

  Penny Warner’s next Party-Planning Mystery,

  HOW TO CRASH A Killer Bash

  Coming soon from Obsidian

  PARTY PLANNING TIP #1:

  When planning a murder mystery party, make sure you don’t use real weapons as props. They may be too tempting for some of the guests.

  The murder weapon lay on
a black velvet cloth, traces of blood so deeply embedded in the carved hilt that centuries of wear hadn’t eroded the terror it could still induce in the viewer.

  At least it looked like blood.

  In the dimly lit room, the ivory and jade dagger glowed an eerie greenish hue. I was dying to touch this exquisite artifact, which had been used countless times on helpless, horrified victims.

  I reached for it. My fingers collided with the cold, protective Plexiglas case.

  Too bad it’s locked up, I thought. The real dagger would make the perfect weapon for the murder mystery play I’d be hosting the next evening at San Francisco’s world-renowned de Young Museum. Instead we would have to make due with a Styrofoam prop from the museum’s art restoration department.

  I set my venti latte on top of the case and pulled out my iPhone to take a picture. Glancing at the security camera high on the wall, I noticed the motion-sensing light was yellow. Alone in the room after hours, I was being watched—and probably filmed.

  A footfall creaked behind me.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I snatched the latte from the top of the case.

  A hand clamped down hard on my shoulder and I nearly dropped my coffee.

  I whirled around, raising the only weapon I had besides lukewarm coffee—a Killer Parties promotional pen. At a moment’s notice I was ready to stab—or at least heavily mark up—the shadowy figure. He stepped into the glow of the spotlight that illuminated the case.

  “There’s no food or drink allowed in here, ma’am,” the uniformed security guard said.

  I lowered my killer pen and caught my breath.

  “You scared the crap out of me!”

  The guard raised an eyebrow. Apparently he meant to scare the crap out of me.

  “Ma’am, you’re also not supposed to be in here after hours.”

  I raised my latte in apology. “Sorry. I just wanted to take another look at the dagger.”

  “I’m afraid the museum is closed to the public tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m not the public. I’m Presley Parker, the event planner for the mystery play tomorrow night. I have permission from Mary Lee Miller to be here.” That was stretching the truth a bit. I had permission to be in the museum for the rehearsal, not necessarily to have free run of the place.

  The security guard held up his flashlight and shined it on my face.

  “Oh, yes, I recognize you. You’ve been here several times lately, haven’t you?”

  “Yep. Trying to get ready for the big fund-raiser.” I tried to sound casual.

  “Sorry about sneaking up on you. Didn’t mean to scare you. I know this place can get kind of creepy when there’s no one around.” He looked me up and down. I must have appeared suspicious wearing an old-fashioned button-down jacket and loose-fitting khaki pants, not to mention the leather boots. He eyed the badge pinned to my lapel.

  I looked down at my outfit. “This is my costume,” I explained. “Tonight’s our dress rehearsal and I’m going as Kate Warne, the first female Pinkerton detective.”

  The guard surveyed the room—probably making sure I hadn’t stolen anything—then looked back at me. “So what are you doing up here? Isn’t that event taking place on the main floor?”

  “Uh, I just wanted to see the dagger once more, to make sure the art department copied it accurately. After all, I can’t have six of the world’s most famous fictional detectives trying to murder the museum curator with a rubber knife, can I?” I gave a nervous laugh.

  He didn’t crack a smile.

  “And you are . . . ?” I reached out my hand.

  Stone-faced, the guard shook it. “Sam Wo. Head of security.”

  I took a moment to study—and diagnose—him, a habit I’d formed while teaching abnormal psychology at San Francisco State University. He was Asian, in his sixties, and shorter than me by several inches. His hand was small, dry, and ring-less; I noticed a tan line around his ring finger. He wore standard black loafers, the discount variety from Target or Wal-Mart popular with underpaid service employees. From his impeccable uniform and well-worn but polished shoes, I guessed he had a touch of OCD—obsessive-compulsive disorder—a trait well matched for this particular detail-oriented job.

  “I wish Ms. Miller would tell me when people are going to be running around the museum after closing.” Eyeing me again, he added, “So you’re the one who’s putting on this mystery thing?”

  “That would be me. And I’d better get back to the rehearsal. Make sure no real murders are being committed. Although I suppose if that happened, you guys could figure out whodunit pretty quickly.” I nodded at the nearest camera, watching us.

  “True. This wouldn’t be the best place to kill someone. The cameras are motion triggered—that’s how I knew you were here. Just be careful about touching the cases. You could set off an alarm.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? Are the alarms that sensitive?”

  “Sure. Especially the ones with priceless pieces inside, like that Dogon statue over there.” He gestured toward a nearby case.

  I glanced at the piece he was referring to and grimaced. The grotesque three-foot-tall statue looked to be carved out of wood. Shaped like a human body, the figure had long pendulous breasts that hung nearly to its waistline. But that wasn’t the disturbing part. Dangling from just under the waist and nearly reaching the feet was an equally pendulous penis.

  The guard broke into a grin, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Naw, I’m just messing with you. We don’t have alarmed exhibits here. That’s an East Coast thing. But I love to tease the schoolkids when they come. They couldn’t care less about the art. All they want to know is whether anything’s ever been stolen and whether we have alarms.”

  “You’re quite the kidder, Sam Wo,” I said, forcing a friendly laugh. A little surprised at the low-level security, I glanced back at the case holding the ceremonial dagger. “Seriously, has there ever been a theft?”

  “No, ma’am. Surprising, perhaps, since we have more than twenty-five thousand works of art from around the world. Top names, too—Homer, Cassatt, Frank Lloyd Wright . . . But we still manage to keep an eye on things.”

  I scanned the room, which was filled with incredible artifacts from Oceanic, Mayan, African, and Andean cultures. “So you’ve never had a problem?”

  “Not on my watch. At least not with thefts. This is a friendly museum, a museum for the people, not like some of those hoity-toity ones back East. The biggest problem we have are the transients who come to the Friday night open house for the wine parties and end up drunk and lying on the marble floor.” Sam Wo chuckled. His stiff, official manner had softened, replaced by an easy smile and contagious laugh. Being in charge of these irreplaceable objects insured for more than $90 million would have made me nervous, but Sam Wo appeared relaxed.

  “What about fakes?” I said, lowering my voice to sound conspiratorial. “I mean, does the museum have any art scandals I could include in the script?”

  “You mean like questions of provenance?”

  I made a face. Museum-speak was a whole new language for me.

  His face lit up. I had a feeling he got pretty bored on the job and loved the opportunity to share his authority and expertise with the public.

  “Provenance means where the objects come from and whether they’re authentic.”

  “That’s a concern in this day and age?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Some museums take a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ attitude. But not the de Young. Our curator works only with reputable dealers.”

  I sensed his feeling of pride about the objects that surrounded him.

  “There are museums that don’t?” I took a sip of my now-cold latte. It was my third of the day, but I needed regular doses to help control my ADHD—attention deficit/ hyperactivity disorder. It was either triple the caffeine or go back to Ritalin, which pretty much turned me into a zombie. Old psychology secret: While caffeine is a stimulant for most people, for th
ose of us with ADHD, it does the opposite—it calms us down.

  Sam Wo shined his flashlight around the room while he talked as if it was habit. “I guess you didn’t hear about the Getty or the Met scandals? They made the news a few years ago. There were questions about how they acquired some pieces.”

  “You mean they had fakes?” I stole another glance at the encased dagger, wondering how one could tell a replica from an authentic piece. I’d been impressed with how much the Styrofoam stage dagger looked like the real thing, right down to the dried-blood effect.

  “More like they were ‘taken without permission,’” he said, making finger quotes. He stepped over to another display and shined his flashlight inside the case. “See these ceramic bowls and whatnot? They’re authentic. We have the documentation to prove their provenance. But similar ones were recently acquired illegally at another museum.”

  Surprised, I asked, “How does that happen?”

  “Some museums aren’t as careful as the de Young. They’ll deal with the black market.”

  “Where does the black market get them?”

  Sam tucked his thumbs into his black leather belt. “Professional thieves usually steal them from the country of origin and sell them to questionable curators who think art should be ‘shared with the world for the greater good.’ But if you think about it, it’s like taking pieces of the Statue of Liberty and displaying them at, say, a museum in Egypt.”

  I saw his point. Not only was I unaware that this kind of looting occurred, but I was impressed that a security guard knew so much about art. More than I did, anyway. My walls tended to display posters from classic movies such as The Maltese Falcon, and my “display cases,”—aka table-and desktops—showcased party props and event catalogs. I guessed Sam Wo had absorbed a lot just by osmosis.