“Herb's head wasn't bashed in,” I pointed out.

  “Well of course not! Rory couldn't even do that right! Fern probably got tired of waiting for him to do it and decided to poison Herb herself. It's as plain as the nose on your face. Too bad that incompetent sheriff of yours is bungling the job and hasn't arrested her yet!”

  “Some evidence would help. I don't suppose you have anything concrete to support this theory?”

  “That's the sheriff's job, not mine! If someone had arrested Fern years ago for being Fern like I said they should, Herb would still be alive! Now if there isn't anything else, I need to get back to my exercises. You know what they say: 'If you don't take care of your body, where are you going to live?'”

  I took this as my cue to leave and went looking for Aunt Sam. She wasn't in her office but I eventually found her in the kitchen with Dodie.

  “Come on in and sit down, Teri,” Aunt Sam said. “We're just trying some new hors d'oeuvres that Dodie has come up with. Pour yourself some of this nice apricot cherry iced tea and try them.”

  Dodie put four hors d'oeuvres on a plate and passed it to me. “There's bacon, chive and gouda cheese balls, provolone stuffed Peppadew peppers, three-cheese deviled eggs, and prosciutto-wrapped apples and brie. Let me know what you think.”

  I tried them all and thought they were all delicious. “They're great,” I said, “but the deviled eggs are my favorite. What kind of cheese did you use?”

  “Pepper jack, cheddar and dill havarti.”

  “We're putting them all on the menu,” Aunt Sam said. “Dodie always comes up with something new that's really incredible. And speaking of incredible, what did you learn from Stella? Did she say anything helpful?”

  I told Aunt Sam Stella's theory about Fern and Rory's imaginary murder attempt.

  Aunt Sam shook her head. “We aren't making much progress, are we? Everyone's just pointing the finger at each other. So much for family loyalty.”

  “Sounds more like a circular firing squad than a loving family,” Dodie said.

  “That's for sure,” I said. “There's no shortage of motives, and they all had the opportunity, but they all seem equally suspicious. So where does that leave us?”

  “I just don't know,” Aunt Sam said, “but I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. Something obvious. Something right in front of my face and I just can't see it.”

  “What do we try next?”

  “I'm going to put some thought to this. And you're going to get dressed for tonight, right? Don't you have a party to attend?”

  “A party?”

  “Of course. Tonight is the Archie Gras banquet and costume ball. There will be food, music, dancing and a costume contest. Oh, and I heard they're even going to have a children's talent show.”

  The children's talent show! I had been so preoccupied investigating Herb's murder I had forgotten about the wretched contest! Aunt Sam had done it again! She had purposely involved me in the murder investigation so I would be too distracted to come up with a way to get out of judging the contest. Okay, okay, maybe she was trying to solve the murder to keep Bertie from going to jail for a crime she didn't commit, but I was in a bad mood so I decided to blame her anyway.

  “I'm not going,” I said sullenly. “Someone else will have to do it.”

  “But the children will be so disappointed,” Aunt Sam said, using her most guilt-inducing tone of voice.

  “Let them be disappointed. It will be good practice for adulthood.”

  “Their parents may not be quite as understanding.”

  Damn! She was right. I would never be able to show my face on the island again. It would be like 'The Fugitive', only worse. But I wasn't done yet. If I could come up with a plausible excuse, something that wasn't my fault, even the craziest parent would have to understand that, right?

  “I can't go if it's a costume ball, because I don't have a costume.”

  Teri shoots. Teri scores. The crowd goes wild. I was pretty proud of myself.

  “I've got a costume!” Dodie said excitedly. “My niece was going to wear it to the prom last year, but she eloped the night before. It's a beautiful Little Bo Peep costume! They were havin' a Nursery Rhyme theme for the prom that year and I'm sure she was sorry to miss it, but you know how it is with young love.”

  Aaaaand black flagged at the last lap. Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy. “Look, ” I said, “I'm not going to put on any costume, I'm not going to the Archie Gras Ball and I most certainly am not going to judge the kiddie talent contest. I'm an adult and I can make my own choices about what I will or won't do. There's no sense in discussing it any further; the subject is closed and that's final.”

  When I got outside, I saw that Nick was waiting by the curb with his motorcycle. He was dressed as a pirate.

  “Nice costume,” Nick said. “Little Bo Peep, am I right?”

  “Shut up,” I explained.

  “You look pretty hot.”

  “And what exactly about this costume is turning you on? Is it the Dolly Parton wig from the Dollar Barge or the moth-eaten stuffed lamb stitched to the back like a parasite?”

  Nick laughed and said, “Well I think you look sexy and you should try to have a good time tonight.”

  “Well I think you have a bizarre fetish and should get help. And what are you supposed to be?”

  “Isn't it obvious? I'm the dashing Captain Derring-Do, the main pirate of the Spanish Main, whose dazzling feats of swordsmanship have never been equaled even to this day.”

  “Charming.”

  “You can pretend that you don't like it because you're in a bad mood, but all women love pirates. Don't tell me that you don't have pirate fantasies.”

  “All right, I won't. What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.

  “A little bird told me that you were going to the Archie Gras Ball tonight.”

  “If that little bird has a kid that tap dances, I don't want to hear about it. Besides, what makes you think I need a ride?”

  “You always need a ride.”

  I clutched Little Bo Peep's crook tighter. The temptation to misuse this thing was awful, but I'd be charged as an an adult and it wasn't worth the jail time. So I hiked up my dress and climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. “Let's go,” I muttered.

  “That's the spirit!” Nick said cheerfully as he gunned the engine and motored down the street.

  “How far away is city hall? I don't think I've ever seen it before.”

  “It's only about 20 minutes from here, up on the north side of the island. It's worth seeing, too! Back in the 30's some guy from New York made a bunch of money selling tongue depressors during the Spanish flu and decided he wanted to be a big time movie mogul. He was vacationing down here and bought some land on Admiral Archibald Falls Island and built a movie studio on it. Of course he hadn't a clue what he was doing, and the studio went bust. The guy went bankrupt and fled the island, leaving the local government to figure out what to do with the abandoned building. In the end, they decided to turn it into the new city hall. The old city hall had been on the second floor of Ray's Crab House, so it was a step up.”

  We pulled to a stop in front of a large red brick building with massive pillars and a wide front staircase with wrought iron railings. It looked like a set piece from Citizen Kane, only dingier. The red brick had faded to a dusty brown, cracks ran the length of the pillars, and random chips and pock marks turned the stairs into an obstacle course for those wearing high heels. Apparently, building maintenance hadn't been a priority for the local government.

  Nick and I passed through the front doors and into a huge room with vaulted ceilings that must have been a sound stage back in the day. Music was playing and crowds of guests in colorful costumes were talking and laughing.

  “There she is!”

  I saw Mayor Croaker, dressed as Cleopatra, making a beeline for me through the throng of costumed guests. I turned to Nick to tell him I had changed my mind about coming here, but he had conveniently disappeared into the crowd.

  “I'm so glad you could make it!” Mayor Croaker said, shaking my hand exuberantly. “It's just so wonderful to have someone with all your experience in show business judging our annual children's talent contest. Justin Bieber should consider himself lucky to have you in his life! Now, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. Where is she... over here, Penelope!” A woman dressed in an inflatable lady bug costume waddled over to where we were standing. “Teri, this is Penelope Mason. We've been best friends ever since we were in elementary school.”

  “Hi, I'm glad to meet you,” I said.

  “Oh, and am I ever so thrilled to meet you!” Penelope replied. “Marcie has told me so much about you and I'm so anxious for you to hear my little Oliver play. I know it sounds like bragging, but that boy is a musical genius. I'll bet you've never heard 'Highway to Hell' played on a harmonica before.”

  “I can honestly say I never have.”

  “Penelope is not only a friend but she also makes some extremely generous contributions to my election campaign and I wouldn't want her to feel that her kindness is unappreciated,” Mayor Croaker said with a wink and a nudge to my shoulder. “After all, it does pay to have friends in high places, you know!”

  Terrific. I've graduated from bribery to full-blown political corruption. Teri McAfee has hit the big time now. Nowhere left to go but down.

  Mayor Croaker and Penelope, satisfied that their mission had been a success, said their goodbyes and left to mingle with some guests. I made my way to the back of the room where food was displayed buffet-style on a row of festively decorated tables. I was hoping to get a drink and I didn't mean soda.

  “Hail Caesar Salad!”

  I gave a start and turned to see Roscoe Jr. dressed in a toga and sandals, with his hand raised in the Roman salute. A Roman toga was probably not the best choice of costume for someone with as much body hair as Roscoe Jr. He looked more like Bigfoot in a bed sheet than a Roman emperor.

  “Did ya get it?” he asked, guffawing at his own joke.

  “Yes, it was very... so, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “The mayor asked me to cater the ball,” Rocoe said. “Well, all the best restaurants on the island were invited to bring food, but it ain't a party without food from Pierre's!” He stopped a minute and looked thoughtful. “Hey that's pretty good! Maybe I should write that down so we can put it in our radio ads....”

  “Great idea! I'll leave so you can look for a pen.”

  “You know, it ain't coincidence that I'm wearing this costume,” Roscoe Jr. said, following me obliviously as I tried to escape. “In case you didn't know, I happen to be a direct descendant of Julius Caesar. Well, actually, I'm related to all the Roman emperors, from Julius all the way down. I got one of those online DNA thingies that proves it.”

  I was trying to think of a semi-polite way to get away from Roscoe Jr. when Augie Doylett suddenly came up behind him and asked, “Excuse me, can you tell me if this food is gluten free? Maybe you could give me a run down on how it's been prepared. I have a serious gluten allergy.”

  “No you don't,” Stella said, coming to his side. “You're allergic to pollen, not gluten. Quit bothering the man.”

  “Oh, that's right. So, is there any pollen in the food?”

  “Uh, I don't think so,” Roscoe Jr. said, scratching his head. “But maybe you should steer clear of the polenta just to be safe.”

  Fern pushed her way past some nutcrackers and an Easter bunny to join the others. “I don't care what's in the food as long as it isn't poisoned!” she snapped.

  “Oh, there's definitely no poison in our food!” Roscoe Jr. said. “I made sure of that myself!”

  Apparently the Doylett's weren't the kind of family to stay home and grieve when a relative passed on. Rory approached the group with a plateful of food in each hand. He was wearing a bathrobe with Aunt Sam's Bed and Breakfast logo embroidered on it, and he had one of her towels wrapped around his head like a turban.

  “Rory, you idiot, where's your clothes?” Fern yelled.

  “Hey, this is a costume party and I'm in costume,” Rory said. “I'm Lawrence of Arabia.”

  “You don't have to wear a costume, you nitwit!” Fern said. “We're just here for food that's safe to eat!”

  “Why shouldn't Rory wear a costume?” Stella asked. “You came dressed as an old hag. Oh wait, you dress that way everyday.”

  “At least I don't look like an old mop stuffed into a satin sausage casing!”

  I left the Doyletts bickering in a circle around the befuddled Roscoe Jr. and made my way through the crowd looking for Nick. I had just spotted him at the far end of the hall when a hand suddenly grabbed my arm. I was spun around and found myself face to face with Molly Herbert, who was dressed in a fairy costume that was clearly not designed for a woman of her size.

  “Remember me, Miss McAfee?” she said breathlessly. “I'm Molly Herbert, Co-Chairwoman of the Ladies Auxiliary of the Committee to Stop Urban Sprawl and proud mother of Maggie Herbert.”

  “The Irish step dancer?” I said, hoping I had lined up the right child prodigy with the right psychotic parent.

  “Oh, you do remember! I hope you enjoyed the bundt cake that I gave you the other day. I made it specially for you from the recipe that won me first prize in the Annual County Fair Baking Contest.”

  Before I could answer, another woman stepped between us and said, “And I'm Betty Jean Weston. I'm sure you remember me from the arcade. I hope that you've been enjoying the very expensive stuffed Admiral Archibald prize that my brilliant son Chuckie and I wanted you to have. As you may recall it is a large. You would normally have to trade up two mediums for it.”

  “Excuse me!” Molly said indignantly. “I was here first! We are having a private conversation!”

  “Conversation! It sounds more like bribery to me!” Betty Jean retorted. “That's how you won that baking contest too!”

  “You're one to talk! As if stealing a prize from your own arcade isn't bribery! Of course you have to bribe the judge because your no-talent brat doesn't have a chance to win any other way!”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, your loser of a kid dances like a department store dummy with a stick up her-”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Molly threw the contents of her glass of wine at Betty Jean. Betty Jean managed to dodge out of the way and my dress took the full brunt of Molly Herbert's wrath. Molly and Betty Jean froze with a look of horror on their faces.

  “Oh, Miss McAfee, I'm so sorry!” Molly cried. “Here, let me help you clean that off.”

  “I'll help her!” Betty Jean said. “She wouldn't want such a violent person as you touching her!”

  “I'll just go to the restroom and dry off a bit. No harm done,” I said. To be honest, I didn't care about the dress, I was just glad to have an excuse to escape. Molly and Betty Jean were arguing in loud whispers as I went out into the hall to look for the restroom.

  “Looking for me?” Nick asked, coming up behind me.

  “Only if you know where the restroom is.”

  “You look as if you need a laundromat, not a restroom. What happened?”

  “Let's just say that the children's talent show is hotly contested.”

  “I'd hate to see the other guy,” Nick said. “Anyway, the restrooms are at the end of the hallway and I hate to break this to you, but you won't be able to fit through the bathroom window. I've tried.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered and shuffled off down the hall.

  The hallway was lined with heavy oak doors that had probably served as offices for the studio executives back in the day. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to be serving as bathrooms in the modern day. I kept trying doors, but it was not until I reached the very end of the corridor that I finally discovered the restroom. Apparently, people in the 30's had legendary bladder control.

  When I went inside, the first thing I saw was Dr. Brad's bonsai tree sitting on the windowsill. Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “I don't know how you got here, “ I said, “but you're going to have to find your own ride home. I've got problems of my own to deal with.”

  I grabbed some paper towels and hand soap and went to work at the wine stain. All I really succeeded in doing was to spread it over a larger surface of the dress, but it had faded to a light pink hue, so I decided to call it a win. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

  “Teri, are you in there?” Mayor Croaker called.

  “Uh... yes?”

  “Oh good! The children are all lining up for the talent show and I was afraid you had disappeared.”

  Trapped like a rat! I looked around desperately. Nick was right, the window was too small. I studied the toilet for a moment and contemplated the viability of flushing myself to freedom, but it was no use. “I'll be right there,” I said reluctantly. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  I waited until the echo of her footsteps had died away before I opened the door. I glanced around, but there were no emergency exits in sight. With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself to my fate and started the long trek down the hallway to my doom. I have never before prayed to be abducted by aliens, but there's always a first time for everything.

  As I was passing a slightly-ajar door with with a piece of cardboard taped to it that read “Coat Room”, something moving inside caught my eye for an instant. I quietly pushed the door open a little further and saw a long folding table covered with many coats and jackets, and standing at the table and rummaging through the coats was the mysterious man in the battered fedora and purple sunglasses! He had one coat under his arm and his hand was in the pocket of another one.

  “Oh, hello,” I said, “can I help you with something?”

  The man gave a start and spun around to face me. “Oh, uh, hello there,” he stammered. “I was just... you see, well... uhh... goodbye!” With surprising speed, he pushed past me and began running down the hall towards the ballroom.