The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,26

lap. Then she removed her fake glasses and shoved them under the burlap. She tried to capture Izzy’s attention to signal that they should give up the game, but Izzy was too focused.

Minutes later, Carter came through the door wearing his dapper disguise followed by Leila in her pink-splattered apron. Ridley made sure to catch each of their gazes before casually moving around the corner of the fireplace and out of sight of the employees and guests. A few minutes later when the others found her in the shadows behind a potted fern, she whispered, “Thank goodness, you made it.”

“Why wouldn’t we have?” Leila asked.

“Carter’s uncle was snooping around the old Meridian’s Music shop. We worried that you might run into him.”

“Sly was at the music shop?” Theo asked with a worried look. “What was he doing? Trying to break in?”

“He was just peeking in the window,” said Izzy.

“Maybe he wanted to buy a harmonica,” Olly offered. When the others just stared at him, he blushed. “Or a tuba! I don’t know what he plays.”

“We’re safe,” said Carter.

Leila whistled with relief. “Thank goodness!”

“Too bad our disguises were pointless,” said Ridley.

“What do you mean?” Theo asked.

“Uncle Sly recognized us right away! And Dean. Honestly, I think we’re drawing more attention this way. We’ve got to come up with a new way to transform ourselves.”

“I’ve always wanted to try prosthetics!” Carter crowed.

“Carter!” Izzy whispered. “How can you think about food at a time like this?”

Carter snickered. “I mean, like fake noses or scars made from makeup. Dante used to sell some basic kits in the magic shop.”

“I haven’t worn my fake nose in years,” said Ridley. “Maybe it’s time for a new one.”

“I’ll have my dad order one for you,” said Leila. “He’s been trying to set up a new version of the magic shop. A fake nose is as good a place to start as any.”

Leila uncovered her brown hair, untied the white apron from around her waist, and placed the wrapped fake-meat parcels behind the fern’s pot.

Carter couldn’t wipe the shoe polish from his hair, but he took off the sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket and unwound the scarf from his neck.

The twins removed their vests and turned them inside out. To Ridley’s surprise, they were reversible and were now a matching green-and-purple plaid. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than what they’d been wearing before. Either way, the change made them look like themselves again, which hopefully would stop other hotel employees from asking why they were playing dress-up.

“I noticed Quinn isn’t at the concierge desk,” said Carter.

“Gregor and Tara mentioned that they hadn’t seen her in a couple hours,” Izzy replied.

“Who are Gregor and Tara?” Ridley asked, thinking of the couple who had been speaking with the twins a few minutes prior.

“Gregor is my mom’s dance class assistant,” said Olly. He did a little tap flourish.

“Tara is my singing instructor,” said Izzy, trilling the end of the sentence.

“Perfect,” said Carter, with an annoyed harrumph. “With Quinn gone, how are we going to get information about the guest who bothered you?”

Ridley peered back into the lobby from behind the thin leaves of the fern. Her eyes landed on the old bellhop, who was standing hunched near the front doors. “I can think of someone else we all know who might be willing to help.”

The other Misfits stayed back as Ridley made her way across the lobby again. She could feel their eyes on the back of her chair. “Hey, Dean,” she said. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Haven’t seen Mr. Arnold yet,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Not about that.” Ridley cleared her throat. “Were you around the other day when a guest here in the lobby was making a scene?”

Dean’s face went pale. “I most certainly was.”

“Would you happen to know what room that guest is staying in?”

“Oh, he’s long gone. Checked out later that afternoon. Didn’t even stay the night.”

Ridley nodded jovially. “Good thing! I’m sure Mr. Arnold doesn’t want people like that hanging around here.”

“None of us do.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know the guest’s name, would you?”

Dean shook his head. “I remember bell-hopping his bags out of room 412.” Then he looked at her funny, as if something had just occurred to him. “Does this have to do with that research project you mentioned?”

“Uh… yes. Yes, it does.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose you want me to find out about him for ya?”

“In the name of research?” Ridley grinned.

Dean glanced