Cold Conspiracy

by Cindi Myers

  To that end, she’d chosen a costume that allowed her to move, and run if necessary, and that made it easy to conceal her weapon. The multicolored satin tunic, black tights and flat shoes fit the bill perfectly, though she was sure she was in for a night of teasing from her fellow officers. She picked up the jester’s hat from the table by the door and handed Donna her coat. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

  Volunteers had transformed the Eagle Mountain Community Center into a ballroom that was one part Mardi Gras excess and one part high school prom sentiment. Swaths of black and purple fabric draped the walls and white twinkle lights glowed everywhere. A mirrored disco ball straight out of the 1980s cast spangled light across the dance floor, where a Tyrannosaurus Rex gyrated with a veiled belly dancer and a firefighter in full bunker gear swayed with a woman in a hot pink, retro ski suit.

  “Wow!” Donna gasped as she and Jamie waited in line to surrender their tickets.

  “Hello, ladies.” Adelaide greeted Jamie and Donna when they reached the front of the line. “You both look very nice.” Adelaide had teased and sprayed her hair into a 1960s-style beehive and wore oversize hoop earrings and a pink-and-orange paisley minidress.

  “What are you supposed to be?” Donna asked.

  “I’m a go-go dancer.” She stood and lifted one leg to show off orange tights and white, knee-high boots. “Before your time, of course, but I remember those days fondly.”

  Jamie returned the older woman’s grin. She could picture a younger Adelaide grooving to the beat in her psychedelic finery.

  They moved farther into the room and surveyed the packed house. Most of the town must have turned out for the fund-raiser. “How are we ever going to find Henry?” Donna asked.

  “We’ll look for him,” Jamie said. “If he’s here, we’ll find him.”

  She scanned the milling crowd and spotted Travis right away. No costume and mask could disguise the sheriff’s erect form and focused expression. In any case, he was dressed as an Old West lawman, complete with a silver star pinned to a brocaded vest. Next to him his fiancée, Lacy Milligan, looked stunning in a short red-and-black flounced dress that pegged her as an old-time saloon girl.

  Gage Walker continued the Old West theme with a mountain man getup, including a fringed buckskin shirt, coonskin cap and what might have been a coyote pelt thrown over one shoulder. The woman in the calico dress, her hair in a prim bun that effectively hid the blue dip-dyed ends, must be his wife, Maya. She was carrying an old-fashioned slate and chalk. Of course. Maya was a schoolmarm—fitting, since she taught at the local high school.

  “There’s Henry!” Donna jumped up and down and waved enthusiastically at a brown-clad figure hurrying toward them. As he drew nearer, Jamie realized Henry was dressed as a dog, with floppy ears, whiskers and a shiny black nose.

  Mrs. O’Keefe followed him across the floor. A white wig and a cap covered her brown hair, and a dress so wide it must have been held out by a hoopskirt forced her to turn sideways as she maneuvered through the crowd. She held a large plush bone in one hand. “I’m Old Mother Hubbard,” she said after they had exchanged greetings. She tapped Henry on the shoulder with the stuffed bone. “This is my poor dog.”

  Henry paused only a moment to grin at his mother before turning back to Donna. “We want to go get some food,” he said.

  “All right,” Mrs. O’Keefe said. “I’ll come with you.” She picked up her skirts. “Do you want to come, too?” she asked Jamie.

  “Thanks, but I need to check in with the sheriff.”

  Jamie worked her way through the crowd, past two superheroes, a soldier, three princesses, a witch and many other costumes she couldn’t recognize. While she could guess the identity of almost everyone she passed, a knight in full armor and a six-foot rabbit confounded her.

  Gage and Maya had moved on by the time Jamie reached Travis and Lacy, and the DJ had turned up the music, so that they had to lean close to hear each other. “Any instructions?” she asked.

  “Mingle,” Travis said. “Keep an eye on other single women to see if any strangers approach them.”

  “Stranger is a relative term,” Lacy said, scanning the crowd. “There are some wild costumes. Did you see the guy dressed as an octopus?”

  “Just keep your eyes open,” Travis said. “And have fun.”

  Lacy linked her arm in his. “Speaking of fun, I want to check out the silent auction table.”

  The normally stern sheriff’s face transformed as he smiled at Lacy—a smile so full of love and tenderness that it made Jamie’s breath catch. What would it be like to have a man look at her that way?

  “Hello, Deputy. That’s a very amusing costume you have.”

  She whirled around to find herself face-to-face with a melodrama villain, complete with an outrageously curled black mustache, black suit with a black string tie and a dapper cane. Nate shook one pointed end of her collar, making the attached bell jingle. “Do you know how to juggle?” he asked.

  “I do it every day,” she deadpanned.

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, I guess you do.” Leaning on a polished black cane, he looked out at the crowded dance floor. “I’d ask you to dance, but this cast is seriously cramping my style.”

  She had a sudden memory of dancing with him in a crowded high school gym. They hadn’t worried about style back then, content to hold each other close and sway in time to the music. She looked away, afraid the unexpected swell of longing for that time showed on her face. “Don’t take this wrong,” she said. “But I’m trying to look like I’m at this party alone. Nothing personal.”

  “Single and vulnerable,” he said. “Still trying to lure the killer?”

  She shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

  “What will you do if he takes the bait?”

  “I won’t let him reel me in, if that’s what you’re worried about. The idea is to string him along, and find out as much about him as I can.”

  “Of course, you might just end up with a perfectly innocent man who has a thing for women wearing bells.”

  She was pretty sure her mask diluted the effect of the scowl she aimed at him, but he got the message. “All right.” He held up his hands and took a step back. “I’ll see if I can find any tall, sort of masculine women with long blond hair.”

  He hobbled away into the crowd and Jamie moved toward the buffet table. She caught a glimpse of Donna and Henry on the edge of the dance floor, moving to an upbeat rock song. They made up for their awkwardness with enthusiasm and joy. Donna stood with her hands in the air, swiveling her hips, her tail switching from side to side, while Henry pumped his arms and bent his knees, his puppy-dog ears flopping as he nodded in time to the music. Jamie put a hand to her chest as if she could contain the sudden, fierce swell of love for her sister.

  Jamie had been seven when Donna was born. Her parents had explained that Donna was different and would need Jamie’s help growing up. But all Jamie had seen was her sister’s perfection—her round, dimpled face and trusting brown eyes. As soon as she was able, Donna watched Jamie’s every move and tried hard to imitate her big sister. Jamie cheered her on, helped with the exercises and therapy doctors prescribed, played games with her and read to her. Other little girls played with dolls, but Jamie had a real live doll in Donna.

  In high school things had changed some, as Jamie grew more independent, working a job, dating, going out with friends and doing so many things that didn’t include Donna. And Donna had her own friends, too. She participated in Special Olympics and worked part-time after school. But her sister was always important to her. One of the toughest things about leaving to go to college had been moving away from Donna. Jamie had told herself it would be good for her sister to not be as dependent on her, but she had never hesitated to come home after her parents had died. Donna needed her—and Jamie needed Donna, too. Caring for her sister had helped heal h
er grief. Donna had given her a purpose and a focus at a time when her life seemed so out of control.

  She moved around the room, greeting people she knew, talking briefly, but always moving on. She wanted anyone watching to know that she was here alone, the kind of woman who might be easy prey. After an hour or so she moved on to the buffet table and began filling her plate with food contributed by restaurants in town. She leaned over to snag a mini kebab and jostled a man dressed as a pirate. “Sorry,” she said, stepping back.

  “Oh, no, ma cher. It is moi who should apologize.” The French accent was cheesy and obviously fake, but it went with his over-the-top costume—satin-clad pirate, complete with dreadlocks, a fake beard and eye patch. A chill raced up Jamie’s spine as she studied him. She was sure she didn’t know this guy. She was also sure the costume—and the accent—were designed to hide his identity.

  She shifted her plate to her left hand and stuck out her right. “I’m Jamie,” she said.

  “So charmed, I am sure,” he oozed, then bent and kissed her hand. She had to restrain herself from snatching it back, and suppressed a silent ew.

  Instead, she forced herself to smile and to look at him with what she hoped was a flirtatious expression. “Are you new in town?” she asked. “I don’t think I recognize you.”

  “That is the idea, is it not?” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth—fake, she was sure. It was the kind of thing that might distract a person from looking too closely. But she wasn’t distracted. She studied him, searching for any identifying marks. But the wig, beard and eye patch did a good job of hiding most of his features. The one eye that looked back at her was brown, but since that was the most common eye color, the detail might not be significant.

  He noticed her studying him and looked away. “I have seen you around town, I think,” he said. “Do you live here?”

  “Yes. And you?”

  “I am a pirate. I live a life of adventure on the high seas.” He turned away and selected a cheese puff from a tray. “Have you tasted these?” he asked. “Delicious.”

  “Yeah. They look great.” She added one to her plate and pretended to survey the rest of the offerings in front of him, while observing him out of the corner of her eye.

  “You are here alone?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yeah. Uh, my boyfriend and I just split and I’ve been kind of bummed. But I figure it’s time I got back out there and circulated, you know?” Maybe if he thought she was on the rebound, he’d mistake her for an easy mark.

  “Ahhh.” Hard to interpret that remark. And the fake beard was so full she couldn’t tell much about his expression. Had the sheriff or one of her fellow deputies noticed her talking to this guy yet? It wouldn’t hurt to have another person she could compare notes with later about his appearance. “Are you here alone?” she asked.

  “Yes. Like you, I am all by myself.” He set aside his half-eaten food. “Would you like to dance?”

  “Sure.”

  They moved toward the dance floor. When he took her hand, she pretended to look eager, though she couldn’t hide her shock when he pulled her so forcefully against him. Still smiling, she pushed back, putting a few inches between them, primarily because she didn’t want him to discover that she was armed.

  “You do not like me to take liberties,” he said, in that same cheesy accent.

  “Well, I hardly know you.” She forced herself to smile into his eyes. “Though I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.”

  “That can be arranged.” They swayed together until the song ended, then he led her from the dance floor. “Why don’t we go outside, where it’s quiet, so we can talk,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her toward the door.

  The last thing she intended to do was go out into the parking lot with him. She resisted. “I’m having fun,” she said. “Let’s have another dance.” Maybe she could get some of his DNA under her fingernails—scratch him or something. She’d have to make it look like an accident...

  “I want to talk, not dance.” He pulled her toward the door once more. He was really strong. He wouldn’t have had much trouble overpowering the women who were killed, especially with another man helping him.

  “Jamie! Jamie! Where are you going?”

  Jamie stopped and spun around as Donna jogged up to her. “Where are you going?” Donna asked.

  “Nowhere.” She pulled free of the pirate’s grasp and smoothed Donna’s hair. “Are you having a good time?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Donna looked at the pirate. “Who is this?”

  “A friend,” the pirate said. He moved as if to take Donna’s hand, but Jamie blocked him. The thought of this creep touching her sister made her skin crawl.

  “Do you need something?” Jamie asked Donna, pulling her sister’s attention away from the pirate.

  “I want to go with Henry and his mom back to his place. She said we could watch a movie and make popcorn. All this noise makes my head hurt.”

  Jamie glanced over Donna’s shoulder and saw Mrs. O’Keefe and Henry approaching. “If it’s all right with you, I thought Donna could spend the night,” Mrs. O’Keefe said. “We can swing by your house and get her things. She can sleep in the guest room, right across the hall from me. I’ll take good care of her.”

  “Please, Jamie! Please let me go.” Donna put her hands together, begging.

  “All right,” Jamie said. “That sounds like a good idea.” A great one, really. Donna would be away from the pirate and his friend and safe, and Jamie would be free to focus on her work.

  “Thanks!” Donna kissed Jamie’s cheek, then hurried away.

  Jamie turned back toward the pirate, but he was gone. She scanned the crowd, searching for him, but he had vanished. Had he left the party—or only gone in search of his next victim?

  * * *

  AFTER MAKING A TOUR of the room and greeting a few people he knew, Nate made a few bids on silent auction items, then filled a plate with food from the buffet and found a chair against one wall. He would have preferred to spend the evening with Jamie. He had looked forward to catching up on all that had been happening in their lives the past four years. He wanted to prove to her that he could be her friend, without demanding more from her than she wanted to give.

  Which meant he had to respect this crazy idea she had about putting herself out there as bait for the Ice Cold Killers. No doubt she was capable of looking out for herself, but it wouldn’t hurt for him to act as backup, so he made sure to choose a chair that gave him a view of most of the room. He munched chicken wings and cheese balls as she made her way around the room, then stiffened and set aside his plate as a man in a pirate costume started hitting on her. Nate wasn’t close enough to hear what the man was saying, but he could read the guy’s body language well enough.

  When the pirate grabbed Jamie’s hand and kissed it, Nate gripped the curved handle of the cane until his knuckles ached. It was made of stout wood and could serve as an effective weapon if need be. He imagined breaking it over the head of this guy, who was standing much too close to Jamie. Who was this joker, to think he could get away with leering at her that way?

  Was that the kind of man she wanted—one who leered and kissed her hand, and came on too strong? Was she falling for charm that was as fake as his dreadlocks?

  “Do you know him?”

  Nate turned to find Travis had taken the chair next to him. The sheriff nodded toward the man with Jamie. “Can you tell who he is under the wig and beard?”

  “No.” Nate went back to studying the man. The fake beard, mustache, dreadlocks and eye patch covered three-fourths of the man’s face. “I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

  “Me, either,” Travis said. “And Jamie doesn’t act as if she recognizes him.”

  “What makes you think that?” Jamie was smiling at the man now.

  “She’s leani
ng away from him,” Travis said. “And there’s a lot of tension in her shoulders.”

  Nate saw what Travis meant and felt his own shoulders relax a little. Jamie was flirting with the man, but she wasn’t truly attracted to him. She was interested in him as a suspect. “Do you think he’s one of the guys you’re looking for?” Nate asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Maybe,” Travis said.

  Nate shifted his weight to one hip and slid his phone from his pocket. “Face me and pretend to be posing for a picture,” he said. “I’ll zoom in for a shot of the pirate.”

  “Good idea.” Travis angled toward Nate, his back to Jamie and the buccaneer. Nate snapped a few photos, zooming in as far as the camera would go. He tucked the phone into his pocket and both men sat back in their chairs again. “I’ll send you the files and maybe your tech people can do something with them.”

  “Thanks,” Travis said.

  The pirate led Jamie onto the dance floor, where he plastered himself to her. Nate had to grip the edge of his seat to keep from storming out there and prying the two apart. But Jamie put some distance between them and managed the rest of the dance with a pained expression on her face. The song ended and a tug-of-war between the two followed. “I think he’s trying to get her to leave,” Nate said. He shoved to his feet. “Maybe I need to go interrupt.”

  Travis put out a restraining hand. “Give it a minute.”

  Nate stilled but didn’t sit back down. Jamie and the pirate continued to argue, and then Donna, Henry and Henry’s mother hurried toward her. The pirate stepped back, then began to melt into the crowd.

  “I’m going to follow him,” Travis said and left.

  Donna and the others exited the room and Jamie looked around. Nate hurried toward her, moving as fast as he could with the cane. “I watched the whole thing,” he said by way of greeting. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She searched the crowd. “I think he might have been one of the men we’re looking for,” she said, her voice tight with excitement.