Obsession Falls (36 page)
“Michael Gracie?” Summer ran her hand over her close-cropped hair. “I don’t know. I’m so tired of trying to figure out his game. Sometimes I wish he’d get it over with, you know?”
Kateri rolled down her window. She looked around at the shifting shadows, tasted the wind, smelled the blend of feverish party excitement, abject obsession, and terror. “Something’s coming. I don’t know if it’s him, or the storm, or if the feelings of every person in the vicinity are boiling over into a wicked brew.”
“How appropriate for a Halloween party. We’d better go face it, whatever it is.” Summer groped at her waist. “I feel naked without my belt.”
“It’s a weapon, right?” Kateri had always thought so; now seemed the appropriate time to ask.
Summer nodded. “It’s a sling. Think ‘David and Goliath.’ I’m good enough to knock someone out at fifty feet.”
“Seriously?” Kateri was impressed. “That’s awesome.”
“I can
hit
them at a greater distance, but when I don’t get to practice often enough, my accuracy suffers. It’s the only weapon I know I can always carry and no one knows what I’ve got.” Summer’s eyes glinted in the dark. “Handy for dealing with the Michael Gracies of this world.”
“I want you to teach me.”
“Name the day.” Summer worked her way out of the door, dragging her full skirts out with a series of yanks that freed her one inch at a time.
“Would you wait and let me help you?” Annoyed, Kateri leaned across and caught Summer’s arm. “You’re stuck on the emergency brake, and we don’t want to tear this purple silk. We had to pay a costume deposit, you know.”
Summer made a guttural, disgusted sound. “How did Maleficent handle these clothes, anyway?”
“She had a raven. And slaves.” Kateri eased handfuls of skirt and petticoats out of the car. “You could have worn the black leather Catwoman costume. Less hassle, and you looked great in it.”
“I’ve got enough problems without parading around half naked in leather and a mask.”
“Yes, I suppose it would attract attention.”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Summer mimicked. “For whatever sense it makes, dressing up like Sleeping Beauty’s wicked witch gives me a sense of power. Maybe if Michael Gracie shows up, I’ll turn into a dragon and fry his ass.” She leaned down, looked at Kateri, and smiled as if the thought thoroughly entertained her.
Kateri pointed at Summer’s cleavage. “Yes, God forbid you should wear a catsuit instead of baring your boobies for everyone to see.”
“I don’t have much in the way of boobies to bare.”
“Sure. Every guy inside is going to care about the size. As I understand it from the guys in the Coast Guard—more than a mouthful’s a waste.”
“That’s a motto to embroider on a pillow.” Summer got her voluminous outfit out of the car, shook it out and got down to business. She released the bungee cord on her trunk and retrieved Kateri’s walker. She pushed it around to the passenger side of the car.
In keeping with the Disney theme, Kateri had chosen a Cruella de Vil costume. Her black slinky dress clung to her like uber-tight Spanx, and Summer laughed as she wrapped Kateri in the oversized, swooping coat. The black-and-white fur did a marvelous job of creating a menacing identity and hiding the walker, which Kateri so desperately needed tonight. “How’s my hair?” she asked.
“Freaky,” Summer assured her.
That afternoon, they had bleached half of Kateri’s shoulder-length black hair white. She wore massive amounts of green eye shadow, red lipstick, red gloves, and her cigarette holder was long enough to poke a man’s eyes out. She hoped Landon Adams was here; she wanted the chance to try it on him. “I’ll get a head start.” Kateri got her walker arranged, hefted herself out of the car, and headed toward the brightly lit resort. Her hips hurt. Her knees hurt. She had taken a pain pill to get her through the evening. But by God, she would have fun.
“Be there in a minute.” When Summer caught up with Kateri, she looked dramatically wicked, with a horned headdress, an upturned collar, and an impressive witch’s staff.
Maleficent’s staff had been cardboard with a Christmas ball glued on top. Summer had laughed scornfully at that, and on the way back from the costume shop they had paid a visit to the Virtue Falls SF/gaming/comic book shop. There she acquired a heavy walnut staff carved to look like Gandalf’s. Personally, Kateri thought mixing fairy tales and Tolkien was blasphemy. But Summer said if Michael Gracie and his goons came at her, she could take them out with a swift clip behind the knees.
Kateri couldn’t argue with that.
Summer gripped Kateri’s arm. “Listen.”
Kateri knew that sound, knew it from her days in the Coast Guard, and more intimately from her own rescue after the tsunami. A helicopter was headed their way.
Summer’s clasp tightened. “They’re coming.”
Kateri pointed at the empty spot, rimmed by lights, at the edge of the parking lot. “That’s a makeshift helipad. Probably the Hollywood guests are too important to bother with limousines.”
“That makes sense. It really does.” But still Summer clung to Kateri’s arm.
A small helicopter dropped out of the clouds and discharged a couple dressed as Henry the Eighth and one of his wives. They slipped on their masks and headed for the porch. The helicopter rose again.
“That’s Gwen LeFavre and Kharabora,” Kateri said. “Color me impressed!”
“Yeah…” Summer stared at the popular celebrities, and tripped over the hem of her dress. “Damn it!” She kicked at it viciously, glanced up, and tripped again, dropping down on her knees between two cars.
“Summer!” Kateri bent over her. “Are you okay?”
Gradually, noiselessly, Summer got to her knees and peeked through the windows of a Mazda Miata. “He’s here,” she whispered.
Kateri looked.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a nineteenth-century military costume with gold epaulettes ran up the porch steps. He came to a halt, donned a simple black mask, and entered the resort.
Kateri lowered her voice. “Is that Michael Gracie?”
Summer got to her feet. “No, it’s Kennedy McManus.”
What the hell?
Kateri slammed her walker in front of Summer. “
Who’s
Kennedy McManus?”
“The man Michael Gracie hates with all his heart.”
“That sounds like the good guy to me.” Kateri deliberately narrowed her eyes at Summer. “So why would you duck when you see him?”
“Because he and I…” Summer struggled to speak.
“Were involved in your former life?” Kateri guessed.
“Not exactly.” Even in the uneven light, Summer was clearly rattled. “I contacted him with information about Michael Gracie and he came here to meet me. To help me.” She tried to walk toward the resort again.
Kateri hadn’t been the local Coast Guard commander without learning a few tricks. Again she slammed the walker in Summer’s path. “Here? As in, he just arrived in town?”
“Not exactly that, either.”
“He’s been in town for…?”
“A day. Or two.”
Kateri made the next and obvious leap. “He’s been in town, the two of you
are
involved but things aren’t going well between you.”
Summer gave a guilty nod.
Kateri felt completely betrayed. “Way to not tell me!”
“The less you know, the less chance you have of being collateral damage.”
Kateri’s temper bubbled over. “Don’t give me that righteous shit. I don’t need to know about the scheme to catch Michael Gracie. I do need to know how you managed to get involved with Kennedy McManus, a guy you’ve barely met. You
did
just meet him, right?”
Summer looked around. “Do we have to stand in the parking lot and talk about this?”
“We can go inside and talk about it, but people will overhear.”
Summer glanced toward the house. “I didn’t think he’d be here at all. He’s supposed to stay at the house so no one identifies him. I don’t even know how he found out about the party. Although that’s stupid. He says he can find out anything, and I believe him. I shouldn’t go in.”
“He’s in a costume. He put on a mask. No one’s going to know it’s him, except you, and you can avoid him.” Kateri’s exasperation overflowed. “And
we’re dressed.
So what’s the problem?”
“Last time he and I talked, things didn’t end well.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a sanctimonious prig.” Summer straightened, then sagged against the Miata. “I don’t know. Is this a good idea?”
“
We’re
in costumes.
We’ve
got masks. From the look of the parking lot, I’d conservatively say there are a couple of hundred guests. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. But sneaking back home again is for cowards. So we’re going in.” Kateri stared sternly at Summer.
“Right you are.” Summer pulled on her purple, jeweled, cat-eyed mask. “We’re going in.”
Kateri followed suit with Cruella’s black-and-white feathered mask. “And we will have a good time.”
Summer could hear music, laughter, conversation, even before they entered the resort. And it was early; the party had just started. Tony Parnham must be popular. Or successful. Or he served really good liquor. She hoped he didn’t serve drugs for, she had no doubt, Margaret Smith would run him out at the point of a sword.
Before they stepped through the open front door, Kateri said, “Chin up. Shoulders back. Remember who you are. You are Maleficent, the baddest Disney villain ever.”
Summer looked at her friend, at the all-enveloping white coat, the red gloves, the dramatic makeup, and most of all, that half-black, half-white hair, and grinned. “And you look positively terrifying.” Kateri’s intention had been to focus attention on
herself,
not her walker or her disabilities.
She had succeeded.
They walked into the great room. Servers gestured them through and toward the restaurant.
Before Summer could bring herself to step into the party, she took a long breath. Even dressed like Maleficent, with the headdress and a jeweled and feathered mask over her face, she felt the crawly fingers of doom up her spine.
Would Kennedy recognize her? She had recognized him easily enough, even in the dim lights of the parking lot, even with his back turned.
Would Michael Gracie be here? Tonight’s party could very well be a trap, yet two weeks ago, when Summer had dined at the resort, Margaret Smith had known about the party. Would Michael Gracie have made arrangements so far into the future? He had no reason to believe his first attempts at murdering her would fail.
The logic of that fortified Summer. She adjusted her mask and stepped through the restaurant’s wide doors.
The dining tables were gone. The formally dressed waitstaff had been replaced by black-and-silver-clad skeletons who circulated with trays of drinks and appetizers. Pocket doors on the far wall had been pushed aside to open the next room and double the space, and the mirrored and gilded walls reflected a flurry of color. Bold reds and yellows. Bruised blues and purples. Glittering golds and silvers.
Guests in jesters’ outfits and royal princess gowns, Superman tights and French-maid miniskirts, laughed loudly, talked shrilly, drank freely. Jewels flashed in sumptuous tiaras, dazzling rings, elaborate necklaces. Everyone wore a mask: of glittering sequins, of birdlike feathers that swept out from the temples, of mannequin-like flesh molded into eerie immobility.
The noise, the colors, the merriment, made Summer want to retreat … and that desire alone sent her into the midst of the party.
Kateri was right. Fear could not rule Summer’s life.
Besides, somewhere in here, Kennedy McManus disdainfully watched the common dreck of the human race, judging them according to his superior standards of excellence. She would not be him, alone and isolated; she would join the party and be a person who lived rather than stood aside and watched.
One of the skeleton-waiters swooped in with a tray. “Champagne?” On his bone-white face, rotting teeth decorated his upper lip and chin, and black rings around his eyes provided the illusion of death … and madness. The costume was effective; perhaps too effective, for Kateri and Summer stared, transfixed, then shook their heads.
“What can I bring you?” The waiter’s voice sounded reassuringly normal, with a reassuringly slow and gentle Southern drawl.
“Water,” Kateri said. “We don’t drink alcohol.”
“Coming right up.” He disappeared into the crowd.
Margaret Smith rose from a giant thronelike chair beside the door and made her way over, leaning on her cane. “Welcome, my dears.” She sounded absolutely gleeful. “Isn’t this grand?”
“It really is,” Summer said.
Scarlet flowers hung in vases from the ceiling. Streamers fluttered in the draft of the air-conditioning. A live band played in the corner: one guy on a keyboard, one on the trumpet, one with a clarinet, a woman on the drums and another with some zitherlike instrument that slid up and down the scales in a dizzying whirlwind of notes.
“And you look grand, too,” Kateri said.
Margaret wore a costume worthy of
Downton Abbey
’s first season, with a small lace hat, ruffles, and a long strand of luxurious pearls. “This is one of the gowns my mother-in-law wore as a debutante,” she said smugly. “I debated whether I should sport about in such a relic, then I thought—what else is one to do with it? Shall I let it rot? I think not.”
Summer laughed in delight. “You are absolutely right. You’re perfect.”
The waiter returned with a tray laden with flutes of bubbling water.
All three women took one, then lifted their glasses, clinked, and took sips.
Kateri grimaced. “Flavored,” she said disparagingly.
Summer laughed. “You can’t imagine they would serve tap water at a do like this.”
“I can bring you anything you like,” the waiter assured them.
“This is fine,” Summer told him.
He bowed and disappeared into the crowd.
