How to Host a Killer Party Read Online Free PDF

six two or three. Well built, obviously, even covered in a jumpsuit. Thick, wavy, shoulder-length dark hair, brown eyes. A triangular soul patch that matched his dark hair. A label stitched onto the left side of the outfit read “Crime Scene Cleaners—Our Day Begins When Yours Ends.”
    Clever.
    I wondered if he’d overheard me talking to myself. Or maybe he just had a thing for Nancy Drew?
    He caught me staring at him and smiled. I glanced away, feeling my face tingle with heat. He turned to me and lifted his glass. I acknowledged him by raising mine, then drank what was left. As soon as I was done, I bolted for the door. It had been a while since I’d flirted with a good-looking guy, and now wasn’t a good time to start again.
    On the way out the door, I grabbed a bottle of champagne and two glasses for the guests of honor, cued Delicia to position the minister, then headed down to the dock via tram to greet Mayor Green and Ikea Takeda. I prayed the bubbly would soften the bride-to-be’s imminent “surprise.”
    If not, I’d empty the bottle myself.
    With a fake smile plastered on my face, I watched as the couple stepped from the ferry into the pool of light illuminating the dock. Thrusting the glasses into their hands, I said, “Welcome to the Mayor’s Ball and Chain Fund-raiser for the Alzheimer’s Association!” I could hear the false gaiety in my voice and only hoped I wasn’t slurring my words. My tongue felt like a fat dead slug.
    Mayor Green and Ikea had indeed dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, only they’d glammed up the notorious bank robbers, Hollywood style. The popular, thirty-five-year-old mayor looked even more dashing in a zoot suit, black roadster cap, and black-and-white saddle oxfords. He was beaming, most likely in anticipation of the upcoming surprise.
    Ikea appeared truly anorexic in a slinky sequined black dress, dangerously high strappy heels, and a gray beret with a diamond stickpin placed perfectly in her black shoulder-length pageboy. The outfit hung on her as if she were just a hanger. Aside from a pair of square gold earrings that dangled from her ears and a ginormous diamond on her left hand, she wore no other jewelry. No animal rights activist, she dragged a black stole over one shoulder, and clung to the mayor’s arm like a barnacle. Her public smile showed no trace of the tantrum she’d thrown earlier. When she realized there was no one to greet her but “the help,” she dropped the smile.
    “Where is everyone?” she said to the mayor.
    I stepped up. “They’re all up at the cellblock, Ms. Takeda. Waiting for you and the mayor. We’ve got a tram to take you there.”
    Ikea Takeda looked at me as if I were a prisoner rather than a party planner. She turned to the mayor again, rolled her eyes, and pulled the stole tighter around her shoulders. “God, let’s get this over with. It’s freezing here! I know, I know. It’s for a good cause—what was it again?”
    The mayor led her toward the tram.
    “Alzheimer’s,” Chloe said, following them. The mayor’s admin wore a long black dress and matching hat from the forties, and carried a black Beanie Baby bird. Even her fingernails were painted black. As Mayor Green and Ikea entered the front row of the tram, I joined Chloe in the seat behind them. She gave me a small hug and mouthed Thank you , then nodded at Ikea. If I’d had more time, I’d have guessed some form of anxiety disorder—but then, who wouldn’t have anxieties in her job?
    “I love your costume!” I whispered to Chloe.
    “Do you know who I’m supposed to be?” she whispered back, fiddling nervously with a small silver triangle that hung from around her neck.
    “Of course. It’s my favorite movie of all time,” I said. “You’re Brigid O’Shaughnessy from The Maltese Falcon . Very San Francisco.”
    As the tram wended its way up the hill, I overheard Ikea say to the mayor, “How’s my hair?” Naturally it was perfect, just like the