“Brilliant! I’ll have something to look forward to after I put my kids down for their afternoon nap. I’ll start reading as soon as the email lands in my inbox.”
After promising to drive over to my office right away, I handed Melissa her phone. She chatted with Kate for another minute and then hung up.
“Thank you, that was really nice of you,” I said. “Now I wish I’d bought you a pastry and not the other way around.” I got to my feet and shook her hand. “But I’ll make it up to you at tonight’s costume party. I heard they’re serving some killer cocktails.”
Melissa shook her head, a solemn look appearing in her eyes. “I make it a point to stay sober around aspiring writers. I’ve had…uncomfortable exchanges with a few of them. Especially if I’ve recently rejected one of their projects. Once, someone even accosted me while I was in the park with my son. He was really creepy. At one point he actually stroked the fur of Silas’s teddy bear.” She shuddered and then held out her fist. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a tough New Yorker, but one can never be too careful these days. Sometimes passion can taint a person’s judgment. Artistic people can want a thing so badly that they forget we all live by a code of conduct. Not to speak in clichés, but some of these writers can cross the line.”
My mind flashed to the shadowy figure in the dark corridor and I gazed nervously around the food area, and then shifted my attention to the lobby. Thankfully, there was no sign of a tall man with pierced brows. I looked at Melissa and nodded. “You’re right. And when people are wearing disguises like they will be tonight, inhibitions might not be held in check.”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “A room full of inebriated introverts dressed as literary characters? This is going to be some party.”
THE OLD TOWN hall was transformed that evening. The hours we’d put into decorating had paid off, and with the lights dimmed and candles lit, the effect was one of eerie elegance. As Sean and I, or I should say, Paris and Helen, stepped through the black and orange–ballooned archway, a whistle escaped from his lips.
“This looks fantastic,” he said as his arm slid to my back, gently guiding me into the hall.
Glowing ghosts and skeletons hung from the ceiling, and streamers of bats and black cats swooped above our heads. Orange folding chairs and black-covered tables surrounded the dance floor. At the center of each table sat a pumpkin candle nestled in colored autumn leaves, a flame dancing on its wick.
I absorbed the atmosphere and smiled. “Look,” I said, pointing at the bar. “There’s Captain Ahab, speaking to Dracula and Edgar Allan Poe.”
“And there’s another Edgar Allan Poe talking to a third Edgar Allan Poe.” Sean chuckled, directing my attention to the food table.
I swiveled my head around the room. It seemed that the majority of attendees had chosen to emulate the founder of the modern mystery genre by wearing black suits, high-collared shirts, wavy black wigs, and a little black moustache.
“It looks like a Poe convention,” I said in wonder, trying to recognize people behind their disguises.
“This is brilliant, isn’t it?”
I turned toward Flora’s voice, only to find myself looking at a roly-poly Harry Potter. Her round, dark-rimmed glasses and Quidditch cape left no question as to the identity of her character, although her gardening clogs were in slight contradiction with the rest of her outfit. “Flora, you look great.”
“Well, thank you,” she giggled. “So do you, Helen of Troy. That’s a beautiful dress.” She fingered the flowing folds of my chiton. “And I must say, Officer Griffiths, you make a handsome Paris.”
At that moment, Hagrid joined us and handed Flora a martini glass filled with an orange liquid. “Some witches’ brew for you, my dear.” He turned to us and held out his hand. “I’m Flora’s husband, Brian. Hagrid for tonight.” He was a good head taller than his wife. With his matted wig and beard and dusty oversize coat, it was easy to view him as a giant.
Just as we introduced ourselves, Zorro leaped over to our small gathering. “This shindig’s a smash!” Zach declared, tipping his gaucho hat and winking behind his black mask. “Have you seen all the Poes?”
I surveyed Zach’s jet-black pants and shirt and remarked, “There must have been a sale on black suits.”
Sean touched my shoulder. “Would you like a drink?”