How to Host a Killer Party (37 page)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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
.

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.

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 those of us with ADHD, it does the opposite—it calms us down.