There he was, that odd smile playing across his features like flickering lights in a horror film.

Vi's eyes widened. She grinned awkwardly and said "hi" in a quiet voice.

"I don't think we've met. Arbor Vitae Damo da Rosa. I know, it's long."

I jerked my thumb at him and made a face. "His parents are nutters."

If he was annoyed that I'd stolen his line, he didn't show it. He simply shook Vi's hand, causing her to practically melt onto the sidewalk.

"Anyway, the madman and lady of the house are out of town this weekend and I'm throwing a party. I hope you can both come." He pa.s.sed us two white strips of paper with an address and a time.

1313 Wyndham Court #601, Sat.u.r.day 8:00 p.m.

I shrugged. "Sure."

Vi nodded like a maniac, clutching the sc.r.a.p of paper as if it were gold.

"It's BYOB. I believe that is the American expression. And hey, Evangeline." He made a zipping motion with his fingers across his lips. "Mum to your sister. I don't want my first party to get busted."

"No prob."

Actually, I'd never been at a party with alcohol before. I got a weird feeling in my stomach about it, but I put that aside. Britta, Vi and Shelby had gone to a few of them over the summer, and nothing much had happened. A couple boys got too drunk and acted like idiots. But nothing dangerous.

As soon as he walked away Vi squealed and practically jumped up and down. "I wonder if Britta got one!"

I tapped her shoulder and pointed. "Five o'clock." Britta Swanson. Charging down the hill, waving something white, blessings bouncing to and fro.

Oh, man. I love my friends.

Ellen pulled up and I jumped in her car. A white slip had been left under her windshield wipers. The whole junior cla.s.s was invited, apparently.

"I wonder if Jim's going."

We pulled away, leaving Vi and Britta to their ma.s.sive freak-out. I popped my knuckles and turned conspiratorially toward Ellen. "Let's do a drive-by." I held out the slip. "1313 Wyndham Court. You know where it is?"

"It's on the opposite side of town from where I live, that's for sure."

We drove out of the parking lot and took a turn on Division, heading north. There are a lot of new developments out by the business park, including some fancy condos and apartment buildings that just went up in the last year or two. As the trees thinned out and the rolling ground became gra.s.sy and bare, we gossiped a little about Arbor.

"I'm serious, he keeps looking at me."

"Maybe he has a crush on you." Ellen wrinkled her nose.

"And I just feel like..." I wasn't going to break my sister swear, but I had to let Ellen in on some of my suspicions. "Callie's working on some cases. Unexplained deaths. This is totally crazy, but I think Arbor might be involved somehow." Okay, there were only two cases, and one of them was completely explained. The other was murder by strangulation, and Arbor had an alibi for it. Still, it felt good to say that I suspected him out loud.

"Ka-what now?"

"There's like, no evidence or anything." At least that was true. "But I'm kind of scared." So was that.

"Do you really think Arbor could murder someone?"

I shrugged. "He's moody. He hangs out with the popular kids, but he's kind of a loner."

"Imagine that," said Ellen, "in his first week of school in an entirely new country."

"He was following me that night I almost got hit by the car. He does stare at me in school in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Shelby saw his car outside my house when I was asleep inside, on a night I woke up because of strange noises in my room."

Ellen raised her eyebrows. "When you put it like that..."

"Left here," I pointed. We'd found Wyndham Court. It was a wide, bare road that ran in a loop. New houses were being constructed along its length. We drove up to a tall, gla.s.sy, modern-looking complex of condominiums.

"1313. That's it."

"Sheesh. Think they got enough potted plants?" There were rows of potted ferns lining the driveway, and more could be seen under the entryway awning. All of them together made for a fairly impressive effect.

"Hey," I said, "Count the floors."

There were six stories, which meant...

"Penthouse." Ellen looked sick. "What do his parents do again?"

"I haven't asked," I said. "Maybe they're artists."

"Or international jewel thieves!"

We giggled. Suddenly Ellen gasped. "Oh my G.o.d Evi, he's totally Edward Cullen. Mysterious, pale, rich... Oddly obsessed with you..."

"Eff that!" I punched her shoulder.

"So he's a vampire, which obviously explains everything, and you're Bella Swan. Kissy kissy Bella I wuv woo stay away from the werewolves..."

"You better shut up," I said. "Or I'm gonna trip and fall down all over you."

We giggled as we drove away. Part of me wished Arbor were a vampire or a werewolf or some other benevolent, supernatural protector. It would make everything so much simpler and more exciting. But I lived here, in the real world, where a man had been strangled.

One thing was for sure. I was going to that party, and I was going to do some sleuthing.

"How would a real detective pack her purse?"

It was Sat.u.r.day night and I was talking to myself in the upstairs bathroom, simultaneously curling my hair and waiting for my nails to dry. (A somewhat optimistic combination of activities. I do not recommend it.) I'd painted them an awesome shade of dark purple that matched my top, and I had plans to add yellow lightning bolts to my thumbs once the first coat was dry. I gazed idly over the cluttered countertop, mentally ticking off a list of very important lady-spy items that you always see in movies, and which always seem to have to do with cosmetics. Because lady.

i Bobby pins, for breaking into locked rooms. Check.

i Lipstick laced with a neurotoxin that paralyzes victims. Check. Except for the neurotoxin part.

i A broach with a tiny camera inside for doc.u.menting important evidence. Check. Except for the tiny camera part. And the broach part.

i A mascara tube that's actually a laser, allowing me to easily cut a hole in a wall safe. Check. Except for the... well, you get the picture.

I sighed. I would have to do without all the fancy equipment. So I made sure I had my digital camera and a couple of plastic bags, just in case any evidence should happen along. And a notebook for jotting down anything I might need to remember. At least I had the bobby pins.

Maybe I could even figure out how to pick a lock with them.

My hair was as styled as it was ever going to be (I disregarded a few unplanned streaks of purple). I carefully drew two yellow zig-zags on my thumbnails and blew on them. Then I took one last look at myself in the mirror.

The smoky purple eyes were Callie's idea. It wasn't exactly how I'd have done them, as I belong to the minimalist school of makeup wearing, but I had to admit... they popped. My top was a purple tank in a soft, satiny material that fell around my curves and flattered all the right parts. I had on new black skinny jeans underneath, over a pair of slightly naughty underwear. Not that I was hoping anyone would see them. They were just there to conform to the overall aesthetic, I swear! Black ballet flats completed the outfit, along with a studded leather purse that Callie had given me for my last birthday. It had a pink skull on the front.

Outside a car horn beeped. It was Ellen, right on time. I blew on my thumbs again and rushed out the door, not bothering to clean up the bathroom. Callie was going to be annoyed, but I had to live through her teenage years first. Payback!

I yelled "Hi ho, I'm off!" as I ran out the door and she shouted something after me about being safe and aware of my surroundings.

Ellen whistled at me as I hopped in her car. "Day-um, Evi. You're a rock star."

"You too!" She looked pretty awesome herself, in a black dress, boots, and sweet french braids. Cheap silver bangle bracelets fell over her wrist as she pulled the car away from the curb. I stole a couple from her as we drove the now familiar route to 1313 Wyndham Court.

"I'll put those on your tab."

"Thanks."

When we got to the condo complex and drove up to the front entrance, a man in a uniform was there to check our names off a smallish-looking guest list and offer us valet service.

"Ooh, fancy," I said. "Toss in a potted plant or two and you've got yourself some serious cla.s.s."

Ellen looked doubtful as the man drove away in her car, so we stood outside and watched him park it in the large lot around the side of the building, just to make sure.

"Did you see who else was on the list?" she asked. "I mean, I figured if we got in..."

But apparently Arbor's little soiree was more exclusive than I'd originally expected. The list on the valet's clipboard was definitely on the short side. We rode the elevator up to the sixth floor and knocked on the door to 601. We were only a couple minutes late, which meant that we were almost the first ones there. Arbor opened the door, a charming smile on his face.

"Welcome," he said, taking me by the hand as he led us inside. He was wearing slender black slacks and a blue Ralph Lauren polo sweater over a dress shirt and maroon-striped tie. The preppy look was totally working for him. Then again, he was one of those people who was so beautiful that nice clothes are just icing on the cake. I wondered if this was how he had to dress all the time around his parents.

"How are you this evening, Evangeline?" He somehow sounded extra British. It made sense; this was his home. He was at ease here.

"I'm well." I decided to go formal. The tone of the evening seemed to require it. Ellen replied that she, too, was "well."

"And how do you like my apartment?"

"It's breathtaking." It really was. His parents apparently favored the Art Deco period; everything was clean geometric lines and ziggurat shapes, evoking the black-and-white elegance of the twenties. I felt like a silent film actress at a glamorous party, or a member of the Algonquin Round Table.

"I feel like any second now Louise Brooks is going to show up. Or better yet, Dorothy Parker."

Arbor laughed at that. It was a real laugh, and a real smile. His dark eyes danced for a moment, like windblown witches at a baccha.n.a.l. "I'm glad you like it."

There was another knock at the door and he left us to go greet more of his guests. Ellen and I wandered over to the bar, where soda and some snacks were set out. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I have no idea what you just said, but good job."

I shrugged. "Sometimes being a nerd has its upside."

The people at the door turned out to be Britta, Shelby and Vi. One by one, their mouths turned into Os of surprise (that's a Latin joke, by the way) as they came in and took a look around. The open floor plan was s.p.a.cious, besides being exquisitely decorated, and the view of the mountains out the west-facing floor-length windows was stunning. Ellen almost choked on the cup of soda she'd just poured when she saw what Britta was wearing.

"Looks like she wants someone to count her blessings..."

"Shh! They're coming over!"

The five of us stood together and made small talk as more people arrived. At some point, Arbor turned up the volume on the sound system and club music began to pour through built-in speakers. The smell of booze permeated the air. I saw George Farmer enter with Jim Holness; they were carrying a couple of brown paper bags that were stripped away to reveal bottles of vodka. Arbor rolled up his sleeves and made an alcoholic punch at the bar, complete with slices of lemon pulled from a mini-refrigerator cleverly hidden underneath. I bit my lip as I watched him stir the punch and ladle out the first few cupfuls a his wrists were so beautiful, muscles flexing in his forearms...

Britta nodded her head to the beat as she sipped her punch. Ellen and I stuck to plain soda; I didn't like how the alcohol smelled, and figured I probably wouldn't enjoy the taste much either. Not to mention the side effects. Shelby and Vi started dancing together in the center of the room, weaving their bodies suggestively and beckoning some of the guys to join them. My stomach clenched a little. This was an adult party we were at. No chaperones. No leaving room for Jesus.

I turned to Ellen to ask her something, but I noticed that she was eyeing Jim. He was on the other side of the room, talking to Amanda Petrov, who'd just come in. They both looked a little peeved, but Amanda smiled suddenly and linked his arm in hers, leading him onto the dance floor. They started grinding together.

I put my arm around Ellen. "Look away."

We turned around to consider some modern art on the wall. "It's a lovely, er... contrast."

"Right," she said. "Clearly... an important statement."

It was a painting that just looked like a rectangle of black next to a rectangle of white.

"Maybe they should have added a red circle."

"Ooh. That'd get all the preschoolers talking."

"Hey." I caught Ellen's arm and led her around the room's periphery, indicating every knick-knack and piece of artwork on display. "Notice anything?"

She shrugged. "You tell me. You're the sleuth."

I spread my arms out. "Where are the family photos?"

Ellen frowned, considering. "Huh. That's true. My house is filled to the brim with them. So's yours."

"So's everybody's."

She shrugged. "Well, maybe Arbor thinks they're embarra.s.sing and took them down for the party."

"Ugh," I made a face. "You don't think his parents have naked baby pictures of him, do you?" We giggled into our plastic cups, imagining a tiny, bald-headed little Arbor in the place of the black and white painting.

"Screw it," I said. "Let's dance."

We set down our cups and I took Ellen's hand, dragging her onto the dance floor. Neither of us are big dancers, but Ellen really isn't. I expected her to resist. Something must have gotten into her, or maybe she wanted to show Jim she wasn't a prude. We moved our bodies to the thumping beat, swiveling our hips and thrusting our chests like we were in a music video. I was amazed that my body could feel so s.e.xy. The lights were dimmed; the party was getting sweaty, and I danced with I-don't-know-who, some of them guys with alcohol on their breath. I tried to break away from one or two whose hands went places I didn't like. Ellen rescued me a few times, and soon we were dancing in a big group with Britta and Shelby and George. He was already drunk, a huge grin on his face, goofily pointing at everyone and winking.

Then a slow song broke down the steady beat, and people started to couple up. Ellen and I ended up slow dancing together, making a show of doing complicated twirls and dips.

"I loff you my darrrling," I said, in a fake Transylvanian accent.

"I am afraid zat zees tango ees goink to your head, Boris," she intoned, tilting her neck at a rather extreme angle. I swished her around and she pointed her toe like a ballerina.

"You are zee most bee-yoh-tee-ful dahncer I hoff ever seen!"