I regretted not trying to match the square of torn fabric from Ebony’s car with the pants when I had them all in front of me. I pulled the fabric from my fringed pouch and looked at it. It was a nondescript plaid in shades of khaki, plum, navy blue, and brown, the same shades of her pants.
In her haste to leave, she’d left the wig and glasses to the costume on the counter. I grabbed them and raced to the front door. A red Prius pulled away from the curb just as I reached the sidewalk. If she saw me waving the props at her, she ignored them. Her little red car turned right at the intersection on the corner, passing the bus that was letting off passengers.
Proper City had established a public transportation route called the Zip. There were four buses in total, going by the simple names of the One, the Two, the Three, and the Four. They circled around the city between the hours of seven a.m. and seven p.m. and were driven by a group of retirees who liked having something to do with their time. The vehicles themselves were repurposed school buses, large and yellow.
Ebony was one of the passengers who got off the Zip-Four. Today she wore a caftan and gold sandals. Her Afro was brushed out to its full dimensions, adding four inches of height to her already tall stature. By the time she crossed the street, I was on the corner. I threw my arms around her and she hugged me back.
“What’s this about Jerry going out of town?” she asked.
“He’s with Don Digby. They’re scoping out a sci-fi collection somewhere in the desert.”
“You let him go just like that?”
“They left while I was asleep.”
“Those two are trouble when they’re together. They turn into thirteen-year-old boys.” She put her arm around me and we walked back to the shop. “Next question: what was Amy Bradshaw doing at Disguise DeLimit? Scoping out the competition?” she asked.
“That woman in tennis clothes? You know her?”
“Sure looked like Amy. Brown hair, button nose, about yay tall.” She held her hand up to approximate the customer’s height. “She works for Candy Girls.”
“She wanted to sell her costume from yesterday.” I chewed my bottom lip. “She was wearing a giant heirloom diamond ring and she said it was from Blitz. She made it sound like they were engaged.”
“If they were, it was a secret.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that she was in here trying to sell me her costume the day after Blitz was killed?”
Ebony waved her hand back and forth. “I don’t spend time trying to understand half the people in this town. All I know is that Amy was the point person for Grady’s hustle party, if you can believe it. She can’t be more than twenty-two. What would a young thing like that know about the hustle era?”
“I think you’re going to have to let that go.” I stared down the street in the direction that Amy’s little red car had gone. There was something off about her story, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Do you want to go inside for something to drink?”
“No, I want to take care of this car situation. This is your idea of a tarp?”
I nodded.
Ebony inspected the taped joints of the Twister mats. “You didn’t do this,” she said. “This is precision work.”
“That guy Tak stayed and helped me after I talked to you.”
“That was nice of him.”
“Not really. I told him to leave but he wouldn’t. And he wanted me to call the police. And he took pictures of the glass before I swept it up. I think he was up to something.”
“Or maybe he wanted to see you again,” she said. She reached under the wheel well and freed the duct tape. “Let’s see the damage.”
Reluctantly, I helped her fold the Twister mats up so she could see the extent of the vandalism. The word Murderer had smudged under the tarp and was less legible than it had been when I first saw it. She reached inside the broken window and unlocked the door. Inside the car were a couple of empty cans of paint. More shards of glass were inside between the seat and the door.
“Maybe Tak was right. Maybe we should call the police,” I said. “If this was random, they wouldn’t have sprayed that word on. This is related to what happened to Blitz.”
“Margo, this attack connects me to that murder, just like being in the kitchen with a knife connects me. Three strikes and I’m gonna be out.”
“That’s not how it works,” I said. “I know you didn’t kill Blitz, and that means someone else did. And someone else did this. Maybe those two things are connected. Did you think of that?”
“Trust me, Margo. There are things that I don’t want to come out in public, and the only way to keep that from happening is to keep my mouth shut.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until finding the one she wanted. “Yo, Dig? This is Ebony. I need a tow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” She gave the address to the costume shop and said thanks.