“Detective Nichols wanted to talk to your friend alone,” he said.
“I mean here at the party. Here with me. Why aren’t you out front with the rest of Blitz’s friends? Why are you so calm? Your friend was just killed and you’re talking to me about costumes.” My voice rose.
“It’s okay,” he said. He stepped toward me and I stepped back and threw my hands up in front of me as if I were warding off an attack. He stopped where he was. “I’ll go see if the detective is ready to talk to you.” He turned away and went back inside.
*
MY conversation with Detective Nichols was of the tell-me-what-happened variety. My experience giving statements to the police was limited but not nonexistent thanks to a couple of scares in Vegas. Let’s just say the kind of apartment a magician’s assistant can afford isn’t in the best part of town. The detective thanked me and handed me her business card in case I remembered anything else. The Proper City shield was printed on the card along with the name Nancy Nichols, PCPD, and contact info for cell, precinct, and e-mail.
The banquet hall was secured, keeping everything from Ebony’s kitchen supplies and leftover decorations to my stuffed ocelot inside. I didn’t want to leave her alone—Ebony, not the ocelot, though I wouldn’t have minded having the ocelot with me too—so I wandered the perimeter of the building until I found her sitting in the passenger side of her Coupe de Ville. The door was open and particles of dust floated in the hot, dry air.
“Let me drive you home,” I said.
“Girl, you drive that little Vespa. You don’t know how to drive my Caddy.”
“You let my prom date borrow your Caddy in high school. Are you saying you trust a teenager in a tuxedo more than you trust me?”
“The boy had ruffles on his shirt. If he looked more like Isaac Hayes, I would have gone to the prom with him.” She pulled the keys out of her handbag and held them out. “Take the corners wide and don’t get bent out of shape over yellow lights. This baby needs some warning time before coming to a stop.” She pulled her medallion to her lips and kissed it as if trusting me to drive her car was an act that required a boost from her good luck charm.
I climbed into the car and cranked the windows down. As I adjusted the rearview mirror, I saw Tak talking to the detective. Ebony noticed.
“What was up with you and Dr. Fu Manchu?”
“Charlie Chan,” I corrected. “His name is Tak Hoshiyama. He’s part of Blitz’s crowd.”
“Hoshiyama?” she repeated. “Like the restaurant?” I must have looked confused, because she continued. “Hoshiyama Steak House. It’s a family-owned teppanyaki grill. Like Benihana except local.” She closed her eyes and settled back against the vinyl seat of her car. “Good fried rice. We should go there sometime.”
I started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Ebony kept her eyes closed. She was right—driving the Caddy was miles outside of my comfort zone—but I managed.
Despite multiple offers for her to spend the night at Disguise DeLimit, Ebony insisted that she wanted to go home. I didn’t tell her that my offers were somewhat rooted in selfishness; after what had happened at the banquet hall, I wouldn’t have minded the company myself.
She also insisted that I drop her off first. I’d parked my scooter in a narrow spot on a side street next to the banquet hall, and as much as I didn’t want to leave it there, I doubted I’d find a space for Ebony’s boat in that neighborhood. After leaving her place, I drove to the costume shop, parked along the curb out front, and went inside.
The house was disturbingly quiet. Soot followed me from room to room as if he sensed my need for companionship. I caught my reflection. I’d forgotten that I was wearing a wig. It added to the feeling that the party, the police, the strange man, and the murder had all been a different person’s experience. I took off the wig and sprayed it with fabric spray to freshen it up, then set it on a wig stand on the dresser. I hopped in the shower and then dressed in pj’s with cupcakes printed on them. Lonely and alone were two different things, and tonight I felt both. I turned the TV on, moved the pillows from the bed to the sofa, and burrowed underneath them. Soot joined me and we fell asleep somewhere between the second and third commercial breaks to a rerun of Friends.
*