A Disguise to Die For (26 page)

HOSHIYAMA FRIED RICE

(serves 2–4, depending on hunger)

2 tbsp. sesame oil

2 tbsp. butter

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 scallions, sliced

2 cups cooked rice

½ carrot, diced

1 stalk of celery, diced

1 cup bean sprouts

Soy sauce

1 egg

Sesame seeds

1. Heat sesame oil and butter in skillet. Add minced garlic and scallions and raise temperature to medium. Cook for about 2 minutes. Push mixture to side of skillet.

2. Raise temperature to high. Add rice, stir-fry for 1 minute. Add vegetables. Add 1 tbsp. of soy sauce. Mix well and cook
for additional 1–2 minutes. Push everything to sides of skillet, leaving room in center of pan.

3. Beat egg slightly and pour into center of skillet. When egg begins to set, scramble and combine with rice mixture.

4. Add additional splash of soy sauce.

5. Sprinkle with sesame seeds and serve.

—

CATCH-22 SALVADORIAN SHRIMP SALAD

(makes 2 big salads or 4 smaller salads)

1 lb. uncooked, peeled shrimp

2 tbsp. butter

1 packet Goya Sazón seasoning (for lower sodium, use 1 tsp. achiote/annatto)

1 head lettuce (romaine, red leaf, green leaf, or iceberg)

½ carrot, sliced

1 Roma tomato, diced

1 cup jicama, sliced

1 avocado, sliced

½ cup white onion, diced

1 bunch cilantro

1. Cook shrimp in saucepan with butter and Sazón for 3 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool.

2. Tear lettuce onto plate.

3. Add: carrot, tomato, jicama, avocado, white onion. Add cooked shrimp and drizzle any juices from pan on top.

4. Garnish with cilantro leaves.

DRESSING: FRESH SALSA ROJA (RED SALSA)

Olive oil

¼ cup white onion, chopped

1 clove garlic, chopped

1 jalapeño, chopped

2–3 Roma tomatoes

1 tsp. dried oregano

Salt

Pepper

¼ cup cilantro

1. Place all ingredients in blender.

2. Puree until smooth. Add water if necessary.

—

MARGO'S EASY FRUITY PEBBLES DINNER

Fruity Pebbles cereal

Milk

1. Pour Fruity Pebbles into bowl.

2. Add
milk.

A creative costume lies less in the construction and more in the imagination. The best way to determine a good costume is to choose a recognizable character and then identify 3–4 elements that are unique to him or her. Often it's not only the clothes that make a costume work, but it's the additional props that sell the concept. Here are a few examples pulled from Blitz Manners's birthday party:

SHERLOCK HOLMES

1. Deerstalker hat

2. Men's plaid suit

3. Tweed cape*

4. Prop: pipe

5. Prop: magnifying glass

*Instructions for making an easy, no-sew, costume-appropriate cape:

1. Buy 2 yards of fabric

2. Fold in half (cut edge to cut edge)

3. Fold in half again (side to side)

4. Lay flat

5. On the folded corner, cut a small quarter circle out of all layers

6. Cut a large quarter circle out of all layers of the unfolded edges

7. Unfold one time. Fabric will still be folded in half, but will now resemble a semicircle with a smaller semicircle where the head will go

8. Cut a straight line down the center of the fabric from the neck hole to the hem

9. Cape is complete!

For enhanced instructions and photos, visit dianevallere.com.

COLUMBO

1. Men's rumpled trench coat (suggestion: purchase from thrift store)

2. Men's rumpled suit in neutral color, white shirt, and black skinny tie (thrift store)

3. Wedding ring

4. Wet all clothes and garments, ball up, and run through dryer for extra wrinkles

5. Prop: cigar

6. Prop: police badge

CLASSIC NANCY DREW

1. Sweater set

2. Plaid skirt (below the knee)

3. Blond wig that falls to shoulders

4. Cloche hat

5. Prop: magnifying glass

6. Prop: invitation from Ned Nickerson

7. Prop: set of car keys labeled
ROADSTER

MISS MARPLE

1. Turtleneck

2. String of pearls

3. Wool blazer

4. Wool skirt (below the knee)

5. Thick tights

6. Sensible shoes

7. Wool hat with brim

8. Prop: magnifying glass

9. Prop:
teacup

KEEP READING FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF DIANE VALLERE'S NEXT COSTUME SHOP MYSTERY . . .

Masking for Trouble

COMING SOON FROM BERKLEY PRIME
CRIME!

THE LAST TIME
I had been this close to an angry lab rat was high school. That time, I'd understood the rat's anger. He'd been forced to live in close quarters with four others, and, having once shared an apartment with four girls myself, I recognized the universal crankiness that comes from the invasion of personal space.

Today, the angry lab rat in front of me had a different reason to be upset. I'd just accidentally jabbed him in the head with a fistful of pipe cleaners.

“Hold still,” I said. “If I don't get these pipe cleaners in at the right angle, the ears will never stand up.” The lab rat mumbled something unintelligible. “You have to stop talking! I can't understand you.”

The rat reached up his arms—two furry white appendages that ended in pink oven mitts—and lifted the carefully crafted mask from his head. “You're going to have to put more ventilation in there,” Kirby said. “I could barely breathe.”

Kirby Grizwitz was a part-time employee of Disguise DeLimit, my family's costume shop. After my dad's heart attack six months ago, Kirby's hours had become more regular, filling in his spare time between swim team practices. Usually his job responsibilities included keeping the racks straight, handling rentals, and cataloging new inventory, but October was to our costume shop what April was to tax accountants, and our individual job responsibilities flexed to fit the needs of the business. Today's need was to put the finishing touches on a giant lab rat costume for Kirby's chemistry teacher. He'd allowed his honors class to choose his costume for this year's Halloween, and they'd decided to go ironic. Enter Disguise DeLimit.

“More ventilation. I can do that. But look, the ears are perfect.” I took the head from Kirby and turned it around so it faced him. He seemed unimpressed. The cowbell over the front door rang, and Ebony Welles walked in. I quickly pulled the rat head over my jet-black hair and stepped behind the register.

Ebony was a strong black fifty-six-year-old woman in a 1970s wardrobe. She had a brushed-out Afro, a collection of bell-bottoms to rival J. J. Walker, and a white bichon frise named Ivory. I'd never known my own mother because she died in childbirth, but Ebony was like a mom to me—having stepped into the surrogate role sometime around when I was five. She and my dad had never been more than friends, though they often acted like an old married couple, especially when it came to raising me. Somewhere along the last fifteen years, her concerns had shifted from convincing my dad to raise my allowance to helping me find a nice single man and settle down.

Ebony had enough superstitions to challenge the most powerful rabbit's foot, and this time of year she preferred
not to venture far from Shindig, her party planning business. When she did, she added what we called her “October Accessories”: a garlic necklace, silver-bullet earrings, and a rubber mallet that no one could explain except that it might help her destroy zombie brains.

I watched her scan the interior of the store. When her eyes alighted on me, I stood straight up. She pointed a shiny black talon at me. “See, that right there is what's wrong with this holiday. There ain't no good reason for a giant lab rat to be running around our city.”

I dropped down behind the counter, knocking a tray of vampire teeth into a plastic tub filled with foam clown noses. The tub spilled and round foam balls rolled across the floor. The mask shifted so I could no longer see, and, even more than before, I had trouble breathing.

As it turned out, Kirby was right. The mask needed more ventilation.

Muffled sounds from the costume shop blended in with indiscernible noises around me. I put my hands on the head and lined up the mesh that I'd inserted for vision and watched a group of teenage boys flip through a rack of motorcycle jackets.

“She's coming this way,” Kirby warned.

I put my hands on the back of the counter and pulled myself up enough to peek over the top. Sure enough, Ebony was steps away from where I crouched.

“It's no use, Margo. I know it's you.”

Slowly I stood and pulled the rat head off. From the corners of my eyes I could see my hair defying gravity thanks to static electricity. I set the head on the counter and smoothed the ends of my flip with my fingers.

“It doesn't matter. I was just trying it on to show Kirby that the ears were straight. That's not my costume for tonight.”

“I certainly hope not. No way you're going to meet a man dressed as a giant rat.”

“What about you? What are you wearing tonight?”

“Ebony doesn't need a costume. You know why? Ebony is going to be safely locked away inside of her apartment.” When she was worked up, she liked to refer to herself in the third person. The idea of spending time at an old, run-down hotel that she not-so-secretly believed was haunted definitely got her worked up.

“Best costume has come from Disguise DeLimit for the past twelve years. You don't want to help our odds? We're not about to let it fall into the hands of an amateur,” I said.

“You'll win. You always do.” She looked down at the rat head and tugged on the pointy, blood-tipped teeth that jutted out from under the nose. “He is kinda cute,” she said. She adjusted his blood-tipped fangs, smiled, and left.

Kirby pulled the pink mitts off his hands and threw them down on the floor next to me. “I thought she'd never leave. That garlic was making me hungry for pizza.” He reached around behind himself until he found the ties that kept the rat suit closed in the back, undid them, and shrugged out of the body of the costume. It fell to the floor in a mound of shaggy white fur, and Kirby was left wearing his Proper City Prawns swim team T-shirt and jeans. He kicked the costume to the side by the plastic tub of colorful clown noses and stormed off.

Halloween was just shy of a week away, but tonight was the big kickoff costume party at the long-vacant Alexandria Hotel. The tall brick building had been abandoned decades ago, and was sorely in need of some TLC. A wealthy developer had purchased it, but agreed to allow the residents of Proper City to hold our annual party inside. Ebony had turned down the job of converting the interior into a suitably haunted but not dangerous reception hall. Something about not
wanting to stir up the ghosts and goblins who had taken to the hotel after it had been boarded up. Candy Girls, the tacky ready-made costume/theme party supplier—who, much to our chagrin, occasionally gave both Ebony and Disguise DeLimit a run for our money—had ended up with the job.

The party started at six so even the youngsters could go and was the first chance the residents of Proper had to show off their costumes for the Halloween season. Ebony might have planned to stay away, but not me. In a couple of hours, I'd be in my own costume, meeting up with a friend in the parking lot, ready to see how everything would turn out.

The cowbell over the door chimed and I looked up. A fiftyish man in a black business suit walked in. His shirt and tie were impeccable, and his briefcase was practically brand new. His white hair was parted on the side and smoothed into place, and contrasted sharply with the black frames on his glasses. I came out from behind the counter and met him halfway in the store.

“Nice costume,” I said. “Government agent? We carry clip-on IDs if you'd like to accessorize.”

He looked down at his suit and then up at me, confused. “I'm looking for Jerry Tamblyn, owner of Disguise DeLimit. Is he here?”

“No, he's not. I'm Margo Tamblyn, his daughter. I run the store these days. Can I help you with something?”

The man's expression told me he wasn't here to rent a costume. He reached down to a bookcase filled with brightly colored clown feet and pushed the feet to the side, knocking a few pair onto the floor. I stooped to pick them up. He set his briefcase on the top of the shelf, popped open the locks, and pulled out a white envelope.

I glanced around the store. Kirby was busy with the teenagers by the rack of black leather jackets. One of the girls
held a pink satin jacket with
PINK LADIES
embroidered on the back. Two teenage girls held up shapeless red-and-white striped all-in-one jumpsuits that we rented with blue wigs. Thing One and Thing Two from
The Cat in the Hat.
Always a good choice.

“If you're selling something, I'm not interested,” I said. “We're pretty busy right now, so I can't spare any more time.”

“I'll only take a moment of your time. I've tried at length to contact you by mail. I can only assume from your lack of response and your continued focus on renting costumes that you've chosen to ignore the issue.”

“What issue?”

“The issue of Halloween. As you know, this year's festivities are scheduled to take place at the Alexandria Hotel in West Proper.”

“I know all that. What's the problem?”

“The problem is that I now own the Alexandria Hotel, and I've restricted access to the party to those in my employ.” His mouth pulled into a line that must have been what passed for his smile. “Read the letter inside. The situation is self-explanatory.” He checked his watch again, and then closed up his briefcase and lifted it from the now-empty shelf. “Good day, Ms. Tamblyn,” he said. He turned and left without waiting for me to look inside the envelope.

Kirby joined me. “What was that all about? Government agent needs Jerry's testimony about some aliens?”

“No. That man said he bought the Alexandria Hotel. He said now that it's under private ownership, we're being banned from entering a costume in the
contest!”