“Look at it this way. Everyone we care about is in one place. So much easier to keep an eye on them,” Riley said, trying to put a silver lining on it.
“Happy birthday, Nicky!” Miguel Santiago, in a bullfighter costume, bellowed as he waded through the crowd.
Riley tensed, knowing that Mean Marie wouldn’t be far behind.
“Thanks, Dad,” Nick said, still scanning the crowd.
A pouty Marie Santiago, wearing some kind of athletic uniform with a Canadian maple leaf on it, arrived at her husband’s side. Riley tried to fade into the crowd, but Nick caught her around the waist and anchored her to his side.
“Where’s your costume? If she doesn’t have to dress up, then neither should I. It’s undignified,” Marie said, looking at Riley’s outfit.
“Who are you supposed to be, Mom?” Nick asked.
“I’m Jocelyn Tremblay, captain of the Canadian women’s curling team.”
Lily pushed her way forward in a Bo Peep costume. “There you are! There’s a food table in the living room, two snack-and-booze tables in the foyer, a bar in Riley’s office, and Fred set up a photo booth in the mudroom.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen until Nick’s actual birthday. What happened, Lily?” Riley asked, accepting the plastic goblet of punch from a tray-carrying Zorro.
“Ask Cleopatra,” Lily said, pointing her staff in the direction of the dance floor.
Riley blinked several times, not trusting what she saw. Mrs. Penny was lounging on a day bed and eating grapes, wearing a gauzy white nightgown that was a few sizes too small.
“Yoo-hoo! Mrs. Penny,” Lily called.
The woman snapped her fingers, and four shirtless men in masks appeared. They each lifted a corner of the bed and carried her toward Riley and Lily.
“Mrs. Penny?” Riley said, still not believing what she was seeing. The masked, oiled-up men dropped the bed at her feet, and the elderly Cleopatra squirmed into a seated position. Riley thought she heard the tearing of fabric.
“Well, whaddaya think?” Mrs. Penny asked, grunting as she gained her feet.
“How…why…what?”
“Penny, what the fuck are all these people doing in our house? Also, what are you wearing?”
“I’m Cleopatra, you dingbat! Gabe was worried that some yahoo had ruined the surprise, so I rescheduled the party. Surprise. Have a drink. The party punch is pretty good.”
Zorro magically appeared and handed Nick a plastic goblet.
“I don’t want a drink. I want to find the asshole who delivered the dead guy’s finger.”
Zorro loomed in front of Nick expectantly.
“It’s my birthday. Don’t piss me off, Zorro,” Nick advised.
“I think he wants you to drink,” Mrs. Penny guessed.
Nick glared at the masked man.
“Hey, maybe don’t start a fight this early in your birthday party?” Riley suggested.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Fine. Happy fucking birthday to me.” He guzzled the drink and put the empty cup back on the tray.
“Who are all these people?” Riley demanded. A person wearing a Guy Fawkes mask was handing out shot glasses to an eager line of partygoers from behind one of the snack-and-booze tables. “I had twenty people on the guest list.”
Mrs. Penny snorted. “Your guest list was a snooze fest. I invited a few friends, then spread the word with the doody flyers. Every client who called about suspicious doody got an invite.”
Riley heard the distinct sound of Nick slapping his own forehead.
