Give Me Chills

by Tara Lush

  "Sorry," I said, laughing.

  "No, I'm sorry." He smelled edible and citrusy.

  On the way to the party, Zander gave me the rundown of all the people at his aunt's party who would be at the ball. One was a zoologist at a theme park who cared for petting zoo animals. Another was a bigwig at city hall.

  "There will be two couples here, I'm told. One couple constantly bickered the night of the dinner party. Joan and Harry Corbett. They're both doctors and in their sixties. They've known my aunt for decades."

  "So it's probably not them. The two I heard sounded younger. But I guess you never know."

  "We need to rule people out, so we'll talk with everyone. The other couple is Kelvin and Amy Shafer. The more I think about that night, the more I remember how much they flattered my aunt for everything."

  This sounded interesting. "Flattered? What do you mean by that?"

  "There's polite flattery, and there's extreme flattery. They positively gushed over every detail. Every piece of artwork. They practically sparkled as they spoke with her. In retrospect, it seems odd."

  "Yeah, I guess it does." I shifted in the supple black leather seat, my hands trying to tame the tulle top layer of my dress. "You know, I listen to a lot of true crime podcasts. And I was thinking about the conversation I overheard. What was your aunt's financial situation? Can you explain more about that? You said she was well-off. If you don't mind me asking, that is."

  "You saw her house. I don't know much more, though. I know she was quite generous with local charities — she mentioned writing a six-figure check to the local animal shelter. Oh, I wanted to tell you — I received a call from a lawyer today, asking me to come to his office Monday for a reading of the will. I can't imagine she would have left me anything, though. So I’m not sure why I was asked to appear."

  I hummed, as if that was important knowledge. Really, I was trying to determine what, if anything, it meant. As much as I was warming to Zander — and as ironically handsome as he looked in his Prince Charming outfit — I hadn't fully ruled him out as a suspect. Although, if he had something to do with his aunt's death, why ask me to help investigate? He could have easily ignored me. Ghosted me, even.

  I pondered this the entire way to the gala. It was held at the biggest hotel on Devil’s Beach, a giant pink stucco hotel built in the 1920s. It had the appearance of a cartoon cake, and I adored it. My eyes peeled open as we pulled up to the valet station at the lavish hotel. A man in a tuxedo opened my door. Zander exited the car and came to my side, extending his hand toward me. I loved the way his warm fingers clasped mine.

  "I'm not used to all this," I murmured as we walked in. "I'm just a small-town girl from New Hampshire."

  "I'm not exactly the society type myself." We walked through the hotel's lobby, done up in gold and cream hues. There were several couples in costumes headed down a wide corridor, and we followed them to a ballroom.

  Inside, the lights were low, and a rock band played a generic tune from ten years ago. It was one of those songs I'd never liked but somehow knew all the words to. Zander and I drifted to one side of the ballroom, both silent and searching. Well, he was searching. I was taking in all the costumes. Every Disney character was represented, as were the Marvel and DC superheroes.

  "This would be pretty amazing if we weren't here looking for a potential murderer," I said.

  Zander cracked a grin and rested his hand on the small of my back. Goosebumps raced down my arms, and he leaned down and spoke with a low tone into my ear.

  "Over there. By the potted palm tree near the bar. Near that heavy wood door. Do you see that man and woman? Superman and the princess? They're the Shafers."

  I narrowed my eyes. The woman was in her thirties and dressed in a poufy blue dress — not as voluminous as mine, though. She was trying to emulate either Cinderella or Elsa. I couldn't decide which. And the man, who was generically handsome with dark hair and a nose that would probably only get larger with age, was in a tight blue Superman costume. It was not flattering to his midsection.

  The door near them opened, and a group dressed like Minions flowed into the room, obscuring my view of the Shafers with their bulky yellow costumes.

  "Were they the couple who bickered? Or the ones who were excessively flattering?"

  Zander eyed them. "They were the sycophants. The flatterers."

  I nodded slowly. "Let's find out if they're the people I overheard."

  I took a step forward and Zander caught my elbow and squeezed. "I'm going to introduce you as my girlfriend. That okay?"

  A zing went through me. I turned and looked into his eyes. "That's fine."

  "Good. Let's do this."

  As we stepped into the crowd to cross the ballroom, Zander's hand never left my waist. We threaded our way past costumed partiers and made our way toward the couple.

  I fixed my gaze on the woman. From fifteen feet away, she and I locked eyes. Then she turned to her Superman husband, grabbed his arm, and pushed through the door behind them.

  Nine

  It took us longer to cross the room than I expected. I tried to barrel through the crowd of costumed partiers while holding Zander's hand, but we were slowed by the yards and yards of fabric of my skirt, which kept catching on chairs.

  Every few feet I'd stop to disentangle myself, and finally I let go of Zander and gathered the fabric in both hands and marched off. Right before we reached the door that the couple exited through, the group of Minions marched past in their bulky yellow costumes.

  I swore under my breath, and Zander came up behind me, resting his hands on my hips. It didn't go unnoticed how well our bodies fit together — he was only about four inches taller than me, and I leaned ever so slightly against him. He squeezed my hips in response. Swoon.

  Somehow being an investigative team gave us an inexplicable pull toward one another. At least that was the vibe I'd felt.

  We watched as one Minion went out the door. Then another, then five more. I let out a strangled, impatient sound. The last Minion exited, which was a good thing because I was so annoyed by them that I could have used one as a punching bag.

  "C'mon," I said, powering forward and catching the door before it closed fully.

  We found ourselves in a long hotel hallway. I glanced to my right. The Minions were tottering toward a set of double doors.

  "There," Zander hissed. "Other way. To the left."

  I swiveled my head. The Superman guy was standing at the far end of the corridor against a wall. I turned to Zander. "What should we do?"

  We locked eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked upward. Our faces were so close that we could almost kiss, and God knows I wanted to. But I needed to find out about the Shafers even more. Curiosity burned inside me, causing little pinpricks of sweat to form on my thighs. Or maybe that was the heavy layers of fabric swaddling my body. I shifted in my canary-yellow ballet flats.

  "It looks like he's standing near the restrooms," Zander said.

  "How do you know that's where the restrooms are?"

  "I spotted the sign back there, as we came out of the door."

  His observation skills were impressive. "I guess I need to use the powder room then."

  He grinned at me and grabbed my hand. We flounced down the empty corridor, my skirt brushing Zander's black pants. Every few feet I caught our reflection in one of the giant, gilt-framed mirrors. I couldn't decide if we looked fabulous or absurd dressed in these fairy tale character costumes. Probably a little of both.

  As we approached, the man dressed as Superman looked up. "Zander?" he said.

  "Kelvin!" Zander's tone was chummy. He extended his hand.

  "How are you holding up, man?"

  "I'm okay. Came here because I knew my aunt would want us to continue on with the charity. Oh, and this is my good friend. Hadley Mortimer."

  Good friend. My entire body warmed.

  "Nice to meet you," Kelvin said.

  We shook hands and my shoulders sagged a l
ittle from disappointment. This was not the man's voice I'd overheard. Kelvin Shafer had a wheezy baritone. The guy I'd heard was more growly. He sounded younger and had almost a California accent. Kelvin had a distinctly southern drawl.

  The door to the women's room flung open, and Amy Shafer stepped out, wiping her mouth. "Honey, I think it was the shrimp from that restaurant. I think I got it all out of my system, though. Oh! Hello."

  Still clutching each other's hands, Zander and I took a full step back.

  "Zander, hello! I'd give you a kiss, but I'm afraid I'm not feeling well. Excuse me."

  "We think it was the scampi she had at lunch," said Kelvin in a low voice.

  "Oh dear," Zander murmured.

  "Yikes," I whispered.

  "Yes, I need to get home and rest." From her ashen face to her red-rimmed eyes, it was clear that something was amiss. And her voice — it was modulated, like a news anchor's. Nothing like the woman I'd overheard.

  She pointed to me. "Your dress is so gorgeous. I noticed it earlier from across the room. I was going to come over and compliment you, but that's when I was seized with a stabbing pain in my stomach."

  Well, that explained why she was staring at me. Still, these were not the people we were looking for.

  "Thank you," I said, a tight smile spreading on my face. "I hope you feel better soon. Food poisoning's the worst."

  "So sorry to say hello and run, but we're going home so Amy can get into bed. A shame, it would have been great to have a drink all together," Kelvin said to Zander.

  Amy winced and clutched her stomach.

  "Totally understood," Zander said. "Some other time."

  We watched as they made their way down the hall, Kelvin's Lycra-clad arm around her pale-blue dress.

  "Well?" Zander asked in a low tone.

  I leaned into him. "They weren't the ones I heard. Totally different voices."

  He nodded slowly. "Okay. Let's go back in and find the other four."

  We took a few paces down the hall, our feet sinking into the plush champagne-and-sand-colored carpet. I hooked my arm into his and caught his eye, then shot him a little smile. A flush of color raced across his sharp cheekbones.

  We took two more steps, and Zander suddenly stopped.

  "What?" I said, whirling to face him. My skirt swooshed around my legs, like in the movies.

  "I'm not sure I can go another second without doing something."

  "Without doing what?" I looked up into his blue eyes. My heart rattled against my ribcage. Suddenly the corridor seemed breathtakingly romantic, with the wall sconces shaped like candles, the electric bulbs flickering. The gold accents of the mirror frames twinkled in the low light. A soft thump-thump-thump from the band inside the ballroom wafted through the air.

  He brushed a loose curl out of my face and tucked it in my updo. Was he going to kiss me? Would I let him?

  "Without doing that."

  I inhaled sharply and got a noseful of his scent. Maybe I should just kiss him. Take the lead. Be forward. That didn’t come natural to me, but why not…

  He bit his lip, as if he were nervous. “Ready?”

  I nodded. There would be no kiss, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flooded with disappointment. I’d had my chance, and I’d chickened out.

  He rubbed his hands on my upper arms, as if trying to warm me up.

  "Yeah. Let’s get back inside and find the rest of the people who were at the party."

  The alternative — taking him back to my place and climbing him like a tree — was admittedly alluring. But not one I was sure I wanted at this point in our still-new relationship. We'd known each other for what, five minutes? Shaky, I nodded and once again threaded my arm through his.

  We headed into the ballroom, and I attempted to ignore my pounding heart. If things felt out of control before, with a murder and our random investigation at a costume ball, things were downright surreal now.

  Zander and I untangled our arms as we strolled around the room, pretending to admire everyone's costumes. We grabbed glasses of champagne off a waiter's silver tray and strolled while both giving and accepting compliments. Every so often, he'd touch his hand to the small of my back, and my entire body warmed. I took a long gulp of my drink.

  Here I was thinking about kissing a man I barely knew. Something I'd have never done back in New Hampshire. My ex had been so familiar, the only guy I’d ever dated. And yet, Zander felt so… right.

  Zander leaned down and his lips brushed the shell of my ear. I shivered. "Over there. Near the final row of tables, in the left corner."

  "What? Huh?" Oh. Duh. I'd been thinking about our kiss. I snapped my gaze to the left side of the room and tilted my head to see around someone dressed like Big Bird from Sesame Street.

  "They're all sitting together. Joan and Henry Corbett. They're in Muppet outfits. José Maldonado, the zoologist. He's dressed like Captain America. Cynthia Castell, the city administrator. She's in a Wonder Woman costume."

  "Excellent. So we can talk with them all at once."

  "You got it. Let's go."

  We hustled over, picking our way through the thick, costumed crowd. When we reached the table in the corner, the four people looked our way and perked up.

  "Look who it is! Zander," the Wonder Woman cried, raising her drink. Her voice was deep and throaty, almost a smoker's rasp. She wasn't our person. I knew it immediately but studied her as she laughed. She had curly red hair and a typical redhead's complexion: freckled and pale.

  "We were just talking about your aunt. She would have loved all of this," said a woman in a furry orange suit. She gestured with her orange-fur-covered hand. This must be Joan Corbett, and she didn't have a mask on, or a wig. Her hair was cut in a blunt, silver bob, and her makeup was understated and tasteful, giving her tawny skin a beautiful glow. Her elegance clashed with the outfit, which was similar to a baby's onesie covered in shaggy orange carpet. Elmo, maybe? Her voice was high and squeaky. Nope. Not her, either.

  Zander leaned to give Joan a kiss on the cheek, and she squeezed his bicep lustily. "So handsome. Who's this beauty with you?"

  He introduced me around and I gave a little finger wave. Everyone chimed in with greetings. Except the guy dressed as Captain America. He held up his hand, nodded, then took a sip of his beer. My eyes lingered on him for a beat. It was difficult to tell exactly how old he was because the helmet and mask obscured much of his face. I did note a jaw that was so chiseled it looked like it could cut granite, and an olive complexion.

  "You two make the cutest couple," Cynthia-Wonder Woman squealed while patting my skirt.

  Zander laughed and reached around her to shake the hand of a man covered in an almost identical furry outfit. Only his was blue. Since there were any number of blue Muppets — Cookie Monster, Grover, and one whose name slipped my mind — I leaned in.

  "Nice outfit," I said. "Which Muppet are you?"

  The man, who was black with close-cropped dark hair, chuckled. "Who the hell knows? My wife brought the costume home today and told me to put it on. I think I look like a shag carpet from 1975."

  His voice was firm and booming, like a radio announcer's. Not the guy I heard.

  "We were just wondering what your aunt would have dressed as," Henry Corbett said. "My money was on Elsa."

  "Nope, Cinderella. She loved Disney princesses," Cynthia piped up, gesturing to me. “She would have loved your Snow White outfit.

  "I was thinking something more authentic, like an obscure reference to a Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale," Joan Corbett added, and all four at the table nodded.

  The only person who hadn't spoken aloud was the zoologist. I subtly pressed my elbow into Zander's blue velvet vest. He turned.

  "José, I almost didn't recognize you. Great costume, man."

  The two men shook hands. I edged toward him.

  "Where did you find such a detailed Captain America outfit?" I asked.

  "There's a costume shop in Kissimmee, you
should see the selection." He had an accent that was probably either Puerto Rican or Cuban and was definitely not the man I'd heard.

  "Have a seat," Joan said, pointing to two chairs, and as I settled into the chair, my heart sank. We were no closer to finding the people I'd heard at Linda's house.

  "You know, it's weird. As a teenager and even in college, I always thought adults, were, well, adults. Now that I'm a little older—"

  Zander chuckled. "Older? What are you, twenty-four?"

  We were in Zander's car, close to my apartment.

  "Twenty-five. You?"

  "Twenty-nine. Anyway, back to your point. Sorry to interrupt." He grinned.

  "For years I was under this impression that adults were always serious. Always had their stuff together. That their quirkiness faded once they hit some magical age. And I figured it would for me, too. Those four tonight at the table reminded me that's not true. They're a fun bunch. A little weird, but fun. Especially those stories about how they're all obsessed with monkeys. How they kayak in the nature preserve here on the island together to see the primates in the wild."

  Zander guffawed. "Yeah that was a little odd. I had no idea that those monkeys even existed here. Or that the nature preserve did. Guess I need to get out more."

  We'd spent about an hour talking and laughing with them, listening to their stories about primates and exploring the natural wonders of the island. It was random and hilarious, the evening long enough for me to relax and enjoy myself. It had been the first night I'd let loose and had fun since arriving in Devil’s Beach.

  Which was odd since we'd gone there on a murder investigation.

  "Adulthood is different than I imagined," I said softly.

  "I guess I see it differently. Maybe because of my job. Everyone, even adults, has that quirkiness inside them. But some people just let it show more often. I think it's why people love theme parks. They can let out their inner child. Or inner eccentric. Don't you think?"

  He pulled into a vacant space in front of my building and glanced to his left. "Are those the same people who were partying the other night?"