I nodded. “Thanks. Something fruity and nonalcoholic,” I said resolutely. “I must maintain my professionalism tonight.”
As I waited for him to return, I mingled about, joining a conversation with Miss Marple, Rhett Butler, Scarlett O’Hara, and, of course, an Edgar Allan Poe. I had no idea who these people were in their costumes as they discussed the future of e-publishing. Actually, Rhett and Miss Marple did most of the talking while Scarlett concentrated on her drink and Poe seemed more interested in studying the faces of the other revelers. Rhett was emphatic that digital books would be the death of print books, but Miss Marple maintained that not everyone wanted to read from a screen and there would always be people who valued the look and feel of a beautifully bound book or an artistic cover. “And don’t forget that a wall of book-lined shelves adds to the décor of any room,” she declared with passion.
Poe, who had been silent throughout the conversation, suddenly blurted out, “What a load of crap! Books aren’t written to serve as decoration! The very idea is an insult to authors. Have you no clue of what we writers put into our work? How much of ourselves is present in each and every word?” Anger tinged every word, and when I looked down at his clenched fists, I saw that he held a black feather in his right hand.
I stood stock-still and tried to swallow with a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. That voice! This Poe was Kirk Mason! Blood roared in my ears. Should I confront him or get Sean? It was obvious that Mason didn’t recognize me in my Helen of Troy costume and my wig of long blond corkscrew curls. Not wanting to spook him, I smiled at the group and backed away, as if I was simply doing the party shuffle and planned to socialize with another group.
As soon as I was some distance away, I turned and rushed toward the bar, almost running right into Sean. “Whoa!” he said as he tried to avoid spilling two tumblers of orange liquid garnished with black straws and slices of lime. “I didn’t realize you were that thirsty.”
“I saw Kirk Mason. Over there!” I pointed in the direction of the group I had just left, but they had already dispersed. Rhett and Scarlett were now laughing with Robin Hood and Maid Marian, and Miss Marple was conversing with a vampiress whose white face was a stark contrast to her black high-collared cape. Poe was nowhere to be seen.
I should correct myself. Poes were all over the room, but I couldn’t recognize the one I believed to be Mason. “He was just here.” I described how I’d instantly recognized his voice.
“We’ll find our man,” Sean assured me, handing me a drink. “Look closely at all the Poes, and see if you can distinguish him from the others.”
I sipped the chilled mango-flavored beverage in my hand and scanned the characters in the room. It was hopeless. Except for a rather diminutive Poe and an overtly rotund one, they all looked alike. “I don’t know…” I muttered as I approached Miss Marple.
“Excuse me,” I said as I held out my hand. “Sorry to interrupt. I was standing with you a few minutes ago. I’m Lila Wilkins, from Novel Idea.”
She nodded. “I remember. We were talking about e-books. I’m Shawna York, a soon-to-be-published author.” She grinned. “And this is my editor, Melissa Plume.”
“Melissa?” I stared at my look-alike incredulously. Red-tipped fangs stuck out of her mouth, starkly crimson against her colorless skin. “I would never have recognized you. What a fantastic costume.”
“Thanks. I thought I’d take some artistic license and dress up as a forty-year-old Bella from Twilight. By the time she reaches my age she’s bound to be a vampire.” She grinned wryly. “You make a pretty good Helen, too.”
I smiled in acknowledgment. “Congratulations on your book, Shawna. I’d love to hear more about it later, but at the moment I’m wondering if you know the real name of the Edgar Allan Poe you were talking to a few minutes ago.”
“That obnoxious man?” She shook her head. “I have no idea.”
Sean joined us. “Did you see where he went by any chance?”
Both women looked up and stared at the Greek warrior in confusion.
“This is Officer Sean Griffiths of the Dunston Police Department,” I quickly explained. “He’s my Paris tonight.”
Shawna smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Paris. I’m sorry, but I didn’t notice what happened to that abrasive man. I left that group just after you did, Lila.”
“You’ll have some trouble finding him in this sea of Poes,” Melissa mused, glancing around.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve got that right.”
The speakers crackled and Bentley’s voice filled the room. “May I have your attention, please?”