extras.”
“I get it! Just tell me one thing. Who is this new person that Dickie asked you to follow?”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s you, Clare. I swear I didn’t tell him that you knew anything, but somehow he found out you were digging into Alf’s murder, egging on the cops. They know what you look like. They know where you work and live.”
Shane met my eyes. “I’d get the hell out of here before Dickie or anyone else he’s hired spots you. Take care, Cosi Lady.”
With a kiss to my stunned cheek, the golden-haired elf was gone. Now what? From my hiding place, I tried to spot Detective Hong, but there were so many people here, who could tell? He was probably trying to call me right now, but my cell was downstairs in the dressing room locker.
I have to get out of here . . .
Fortunately, the lights in the reading room dimmed. Tucker’s show was about to begin. I zigzagged through the crowd and bolted for the exit, eyes peeled for Matt the whole way. But he and Breanne, the party shark, were nowhere in sight. They’d probably moved on to the next event.
I hit another knot of people and stepped around them. My timing couldn’t have been worse. I passed right by Dickie himself. He was conferring with a man whose designer suit couldn’t hide a cauliflower ear and a pockmarked face—the kind that would have been captioned “Known Associate” in a true-crime book.
Both pairs of male eyes followed me through the crowd—damn this Santa Hooker outfit!
Another mob of partygoers slowed me down, trying to maneuver their kids closer to Tucker’s show. I dodged right, then left. Finally free, I hit the deserted marble stairway. My black go-go boot heels clicked quickly on the stone. I didn’t get far before I heard heavy feet following. I glanced over my shoulder and saw what I’d dreaded—
Known Associate was on my heels. “Wait, miss!” he called. “Mr. Celebratorio would like a word with you . . .”
I reached the basement dressing room but didn’t go inside. I hadn’t seen another exit in there, and I didn’t want to get trapped. Instead I kept on going down a long, empty corridor. I could hear the man’s footsteps stalking me.
When I turned the first corner, I found myself trapped in a dead-end hallway with locked doors. I spun around, ready to rush back to the main corridor. But Known Associate was already on me.
“Will you stop running—” His big hands reaching, he lunged for me.
The only weapon I had was this huge bag of promo candy. Remembering Esther’s brick, I swung the sack with all my might and smacked him right in the face! The bag burst open and the cellophane-wrapped goodies went flying everywhere. Some even pelted me. Peppermint blowback!
The man stumbled and I raced past him. He yowled, turned to chase me, and slipped on the layer of cellophane that covered the polished floor. As gravity took him down, I turned the corner again, continuing down the long hallway until I saw a Fire Exit sign above a pair of wooden doors.
By now, Known Associate was on his feet again and running toward me. I pushed through the double doors and spun around. Using my empty velvet sack, I quickly tied the door handles together. Then I bolted the few yards to the steel fire door. Behind me, I could hear Known Associate violently rattling the tied double doors.
He can’t get through!
An alarm sounded as I depressed the fire door bar and stumbled into the frigid December night. When the heavy door slammed behind me, I knew I was locked outside—and that was fine with me, because the only way I was going back into that crazy holiday bash was with an armed SWAT team!
TWENTY-EIGHT
“HEY, little elf! I like your outfit!”
“Are you coming from a Christmas party?”
“Maybe she’s from the North Pole.”
“You want a ride, sweet thing?”
“I’ll give her a ride. A real nice ride!”
The four men laughed. They were sitting in an SUV, keeping pace beside me on a dim, deserted stretch of Fortieth Street. At least three of them were sloppy drunk from some office party. Shivering in my flimsy red costume, I tightly folded my red velvet arms and quickened the pace of my black go-go boots.
With Bryant Park Grill dark, and no other open restaurants or stores on this block, I’d struck out for the police station in Times Square. If I