I found a large plastic bin of hangers and clear garment bags on a shelf behind the cash register and assembled each costume in a bag. Because of the short window of time, we’d expected each person to wear their own footwear, but I made a note with suggestions on index cards and taped them to the front of the hanger with the name of the costume.
Behind me, the door rattled. Blitz Manners was on the sidewalk, surrounded by a gaggle of men around the same age as he was. He stumbled inside. He wore a crooked smile and reeked of beer and cigarettes. He reached out and put a finger under my chin and grinned. A tall man with hair the color of freshly minted pennies and the blue eyes and freckles to go with followed him into the store. The rest of his entourage stayed on the sidewalk out front.
“Let’s see what you got for me, babe,” Blitz slurred.
“Our store is closed for the night. You can come back tomorrow to see what we’ve put together.”
“I wanted to keep you on your toes.” He swayed forward and back, but I didn’t think he knew he did it. I looked at the redhead. He grinned and shrugged, like he was used to Blitz doing whatever Blitz wanted to do. I smiled back, and he winked at me.
“The costumes that we finished are over here.” I walked him to the ballet barre that held the numbered garment bags. “I think we came up with a nice assortment for you. We have Hercule Poirot, Columbo, Kojak, and Jim Rockford. I assume you’ll be inviting women to your party too, right? There’s Miss Marple, two Nancy Drews, Cherry Ames, and Veronica Mars. And four different Sherlock costumes: BBC, steampunk, CBS, and a custom classic Sherlock that my father made this afternoon.” I bent backward at the waist to put distance between the scent of happy hour and my nose. “Personally, I think it’s a standout.” I picked up the hanger with the tweed cape and deerstalker.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he asked. He grabbed the hanger from me and threw the costume on the ground. “I thought I told you to keep it hip. These are costumes for an old person’s party,” he said.
“This is exactly what you asked us for,” I said defensively, and bent to scoop the clothes from the ground. “This very costume is the one you saw when you came into the store.”
He looked over his shoulder at the guys standing on the sidewalk out front, and stepped back and gave me a full-body scan from my face to my boots, and back up to my face. “Things don’t look like they did when I was here earlier. Maybe I didn’t communicate clearly enough what I wanted.”
He overenunciated his words. I didn’t doubt that he was well on his way to passing out, but I also didn’t doubt that this was a regular occurrence. It wasn’t my problem if Blitz was blitzed. I just wanted him out of the store.
The cowbell over the door clanged and another man entered. He was tall and had broad shoulders. Longish straight black hair was pushed away from his face. There were traces of a beard and mustache that looked more like the product of a couple of days without shaving than a conscious decision to wear facial hair. His features were Asian with a mix of Roman. Black-brown eyes studied me from under strong eyebrows. Aquiline nose. Naturally red lips. I smiled a cautious greeting—cautious because I was alone and didn’t want to encourage the rest of the group to enter too—and turned my attention back to Blitz.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is the best we can do on short notice.” I put my hands on the rolling rack and moved it away from him. I picked up the envelope of money from the counter where Ebony had left it and held it out. “Here’s your deposit back,” I said.
The redhead snickered. “You were right, Blitz, she’s not like the rest of them. All the girls we know would have kept the money.”
“Shut up, Grady,” Blitz said. He kept his eyes on me. The solicitous drunk who had come into the store had turned into a sullen one. He shot a nasty look at the third man who had entered, snatched the envelope of cash from my hand, and turned around and stormed out the door.
Grady leaned forward. “Don’t admit defeat yet. He’ll change his mind. He always does.” He stared at me for a few seconds and then turned and followed Blitz outside.
The third man was gone too. I gave the crowd a couple of seconds to start down the street, and then popped my head out and looked left and right. Blitz’s crowd had gone one way, the Asian man was by himself, walking in the other direction. He turned around and caught me watching him. I froze. He pulled a hand out of his jacket pocket and waved tentatively. I waved back in like fashion.
I locked the door, pulled the shades down, and turned out the lights. After moving the rack of costumes to the back of the store by the register, I headed upstairs. Dad was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of marinara sauce.
“What kept you? It sounded like I heard voices,” he said.
“Blitz Manners showed up after you left. I told him the store was closed but he didn’t seem to care.”