Free Silver Scream: A Bed-And-Breakfast Mystery by Mary Daheim Page A

kid.”
    Judith smiled at the suntan pants, the flannel shirt, the horn-rimmed spectacles, and the box of Twinkies. Living in the land of Microsweet, she was familiar with the outfit.
    “What about the rest of the movie company? What will they wear?” she asked.
    “Whatever suits The Gasman, ” Winifred replied. “We left everybody else pretty much on their own. They’ll conform, of course.”
    The statement seemed to reflect the general attitude of Bruno Zepf’s circle. Winifred had no need to add, “Or else.”
    Pointing at a stack of garment bags that lay on the living-room floor, Winifred commented, “We’ll put them in those. Remember, they have to be back by four o’clock. The premiere is at six.”
    Carefully, Judith picked up the Scarlett O’Hara costume. “I understand that the ball is at ten. What time do you think you’ll be back here for the midnight supper?” She dreaded the idea of putting on such a late event, but Bruno had consented to pay an extra two grand, and Judith couldn’t refuse the money.
    “A midnight supper is just that,” Winifred replied, tucking her nun’s habit into one of the garment bags. “We should return shortly before twelve.”
    Judith gave an absent nod as she fumbled with thesilks and taffeta that made up Angela’s post–Civil War era gown.
    “Careful!” Winifred cried. “Watch out for the decorative trim!”
    “Right, okay,” Judith agreed. “Maybe I should turn it over to protect the front of the outfit.”
    Since Winifred didn’t argue, Judith did just that. And stared.
    The long black-and-white silk skirt and taffeta petticoat had been slashed in a half-dozen places from the waist to the hem.
    Winifred screamed.
    Judith couldn’t stop staring, but a cold shiver crawling up her spine set off a familiar, terrifying alarm.

FIVE
    “W IN ?”
    Ellie Linn was standing at the bottom of the stairs, gazing into the living room. She saw Judith and Winifred’s horror-stricken faces, and moved quickly, if softly, to join them.
    “What’s wrong?” Ellie glanced down at the torn costume. “Oh, wow, that looks bad! What happened?”
    Winifred was kneeling on the floor, pounding her fists on the carpet. “Sabotage, that’s what happened! Angela’s gown is ruined! Who would do such a thing?”
    Ellie rocked back and forth in her expensive cross-trainers. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved tee that didn’t quite cover her midriff. Judith figured her for a size three at most.
    “Golly, I don’t know,” Ellie said, gazing at the ceiling. “Couldn’t Angela wear a bedsheet, cut two eyeholes in it, and go as a ghost?”
    “Ellie!” Winifred’s voice was sharp, then she turned to Judith. “Do you think your local costume shop could fix this?”
    Judith studied the garment. “They’d have to replace the overskirt. I’ll ask them.”
    “The skirt—or what’s left of it—will have to be saved,” Winifred declared, finally regaining control of her emotions. “It’s the original.” She paused, tapping a finger against her smooth cheek. “Yes, maybe an over-skirt will do. But make sure it matches.”
    Judith promised that she would. “By the way,” she asked, “were these costumes still in Bruno’s room where I had the UPS man deliver them?”
    “Yes,” Winifred replied. “He was the only one who had enough space.”
    Ellie was kneeling down to study her Cleopatra outfit. “You know, this really looks okay,” she observed. “Don’t you love the gilded headdress? It’ll look way cool with my long black hair.” For emphasis, she ran a hand through her raven tresses. “Hey, Win, where are the masks?”
    “They’re still in Bruno’s room,” Winifred said, exhibiting the delicacy of a neurosurgeon in placing the damaged Scarlett O’Hara costume into a garment bag. “The masks are ready. Yours is marked with your name on the inside.”
    “Great.” Ellie stood up. “Wow”—she giggled—“Angela’s going to be wild! I’ll