“No offense,” he said to Raine, “but I would never have guessed there’s a large market for costumes except at Halloween.”
“Halloween has become a major adult party night,” she said. “People spend small fortunes on their costumes.”
He pushed open the door for her. “That’s just one day a year.”
“Add to that the annual Oriana charity fund-raiser, which is traditionally an old-fashioned costume ball, a variety of kids’ parties during the year, several high-end private bashes and events, contracts with some regional theater groups and an online site and you’ve got a viable business.”
He smiled. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” He followed her into the shop. “Got to tell you, though, I find it hard to believe that anyone over the age of ten would want to put on a costume.”
“Aunt Vella used to say that everyone wears a mask.”
The sales floor of the shop was not large. It was dramatically decorated in vivid colors and lit with theatrical lighting. There were several more costumes on display, including a mannequin dressed in a tutu and one wearing an elaborate gown that reminded him vaguely of the big, ornate dresses worn by women in the eighteenth century.
A series of paintings in sleek, modern frames hung on the walls. Each one featured a haunting image of a mask.
“Aunt Vella did them,” Raine said. “Painting was one of the few things that calmed her. She could lose herself in a picture for hours and days at a time. I could only hang so many of them here in the shop. Most are stored in the Shelbyville house.”
“You don’t have any hanging in your condo.”
She gave him an enigmatic look. “Would you want any of those masks on your walls at home?”
He studied the nearest painting. He was a good three feet away from it but he could sense the faint, disturbing energy.
“No,” he said.
“Luckily most of my customers don’t notice the bad vibes,” she said quietly. “People think the pictures are fascinating. I’ve had several offers for them.”
“Ever sold any?”
“No,” Raine said. “They’re all I have left of Aunt Vella.”
There was a sales counter to the right and an opening draped in red velvet set in the far wall.
“Is that you, Raine?” a voice called from the other side of the crimson curtain. “I was just about to call you.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Raine said. “Things got complicated this morning.”
The velvet curtains parted. A short, round woman in her early twenties appeared. She looked as if she had just walked out of a vampire film.
“This is Pandora, my assistant,” Raine said. “Pandora, Zack Jones.”
“How do you do,” Zack said. “I didn’t catch your last name.”
“I don’t use one,” Pandora said, eyes slitting in a not-so-subtle warning.
“Right,” he said. “That explains it.”
He managed, just barely, not to smile.
Pandora was dressed in a long, flowing black gown with wide sleeves. Massive platform shoes with five-inch heels graced her feet. A heavy necklace decorated with an odd design wrought in some silvery metal hung around her neck.
Her artificially black hair was parted in the middle and fell halfway down her back. Pale makeup gave a ghostly pallor to her skin. Dark lipstick and elaborately painted eyes provided a startling contrast. Small rings and studs gleamed in her nose, ears, brows and lips.
Pandora looked at Raine, expressionless. “New boyfriend?”
To Zack’s amazement, Raine blushed.
“No,” Raine said quickly. “New, uh, acquaintance.”
Zack looked at her. She turned even pinker and hastily cleared her throat.
“Like I said, my life has become somewhat complicated lately,” she added smoothly. “Zack wanted to see the shop and meet you. He’s going to hang out here with us today.”
“Why?” Pandora asked, still suspicious.
Raine made a face. “Because the Bonfire Killer has decided I’m his nemesis. Zack is playing bodyguard for a while.”
Pandora was horrified. “That freak has targeted you?”
“Looks that way,” Raine said.
“Damn it, I was afraid this would happen someday. Didn’t I tell you that getting involved in all those cold cases would come back to haunt you?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Where did you find him?” Pandora angled her head at Zack. “You don’t know any professional bodyguards.”
“Zack is sort of an investigator,” Raine said.
Zack smiled. “Actually I’m a real investigator.”
Pandora crossed her arms and looked disgusted. “Not another guy in law enforcement. Thought you learned your lesson with Mitchell.”
Raine frowned. “I told you, Zack is not a boyfriend.”
Zack looked at Pandora. “I don’t worry about enforcing laws. I just ask questions and try to get answers.”
“Yeah?” Pandora did not appear convinced but she shrugged a plump shoulder.
“Mind if I take a look around the back room?” Zack said to Raine.
“No.” She went toward the velvet curtain. “Follow me.”
Pandora gave Zack one last, suspicious glare and then went behind the counter and sat down in front of the computer.
“By the way, Marie Antoinette called,” she said over her shoulder to Raine. “She rescheduled her fitting for Thursday.”
“No problem,” Raine said, moving through the curtain.
Zack followed her. “Marie Antoinette?”
“Joanne Escott, the mayor of our fair town. She’s getting a costume from us for the annual charity ball I mentioned. She doesn’t know quite how to deal with Pandora so I make it a point to be here when she comes in for her fittings.”
“Why the Marie Antoinette name?”
“This year Joanne wanted to wear an elaborate eighteenth-century gown, complete with the big, powdered wig like the costume out front. I told her she’d look like Marie Antoinette and that was probably not the image she wanted to project as mayor. She was very determined. I finally pointed out that if she wore the costume, her critics at the Oriana Journal wouldn’t be able to resist printing a picture of her at the ball with a let ’em eat cake caption.”
“I assume that observation made her change her mind?”
“Yes, but unfortunately, I don’t think her second choice was particularly wise, either. Couldn’t talk her out of it, though. She’s going as Cleopatra.”