Chapter 2
For the following week, crime in Vegas continued at its usual pace—dead bodies, destroyed lives, broken locks, stolen cars, smashed windows, drug deals gone bad—but nothing stopped the excited plans for ‘The Party’. Everyone seemed to throw out dozens of costume ideas hoping for a reaction, and at the same time, refusing to confirm what they would wear. Secrets were everywhere as a sort of bartering system developed for items of clothing, for everyday items repurposed into a costume.
Early one morning, evidence from a puzzling death covering the layout table, Morgan asked, “Seriously, how is everyone’s costume coming?”
Her question was met with mumbles; Greg drew something in the air that looked like a question mark and Sara stayed silent.
Morgan sighed so loudly the papers ruffled on the table. “Now, guys. I’m new in town and haven’t had a real date since I got here—this is not normal!”
Surprised, Catherine stared, open-mouthed. Greg and Nick began to snicker. Sara laughed, mumbling “I know that club.”
“So,” she continued, “why don’t we show up together—dressed alike? We’re a team, right? Everyone else can show up as—as Charlie Sheen or Captain Kirk.” From her grimace everyone knew who was coming in Star Trek costume. “We would really be cool—we could all be the ‘Where’s Waldo’ guy—remember him from when you were a kid?”
Catherine dropped her head to hide her laugh; Lindsey had loved the Waldo books.
Undaunted, Morgan continued, “Maybe not Waldo. No dead bodies—ugh. We see enough of that! We want to stand out in a crowd.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Space men are out, so are Vegas mobsters. How about bugs? We could be roaches! Yeah—dark brown shirts, brown pants, wings, antenna—five giant cockroaches!” She was oblivious to the wide-eyed stares of the two men and two women around her and the looks they gave each other before one of them snorted. “We could make wings out of pantyhose, with wire and long, to the floor. Can anyone use a hot glue gun? Legs are easy, just glue felt legs to our shirts and pants. But the wings would make the costume!”
By the time she had finished, all of them were laughing. Catherine had her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking; Nick and Greg, raucously laughing, were eagerly agreeing. Even Sara laughed as Morgan drew a standing cockroach with long antenna and multiple legs sticking from the body.
“With a little work, this will be fun—can you imagine everyone’s face when we walk in looking identical! And roaches!” Morgan gushed on. “I can do wings—I was an angel once in college and it would not take much to make bigger wings. Cutting, gluing, a little wire and,” she spread her arms, a wide grin on her face, “we are roaches!”
“I’m in!” Greg said immediately.
“Me too.” Nick agreed. “Come on, Sara, Catherine. This will be fun!” Nick’s laughed turned into giggles. “There is one person I wish could see us!”
“Roaches,” Sara’s expression was one of unbelievable resignation. “If you will, I will.” She looked at Catherine.
Catherine nodded her head. “We’re going to need a video camera.”
Morgan’s apartment was too small to work on five pairs of roach wings, so Catherine offered her dining room. Two days later, Nick, Greg, and Sara were fed by Lily as Morgan, Catherine, and Lindsay twisted wire, stretched colored tights over the wire, wound duct tape, and hot-glued Velcro and elastic in appropriate places as each costume gradually changed into sometime resembling a roach—sort of.
Entertaining as always, Lily served breakfast and told stories of gluing showgirl costumes and head dresses directly to skin. “And it was not this washable stuff—it was the original super glue. That stuff stayed with you for days!” She plated pancakes and passed them to Nick.
Two loud expletives came from the dining room. Lily retorted with “Watch your language! We have company!”
Catherine appeared in the kitchen. “We’ve gone through all the panty hose—and need at least two more pairs. Sara?”
“I’m on it!” She swallowed the last bite of pancake and pushed back. “Thanks, Lily. Much better than the diner.” She grabbed her keys.
“Get the plus size, Sara!” Morgan called.
Lily walked to the dining table and looked at what they were doing. “You need hair spray.” She lifted the cut-off panty portion, examining it closely. “Now why is the double layer in the crotch not sewn together?” She ran fingers between two layers of fabric. “Look at this! It makes a perfect little pocket! This is weird.” With a puzzled glance, she looked at Catherine, and then Morgan.
Morgan, bending wire with pliers, replied, “Oh, that’s a place to put your cell phone—keeps it safe and you don’t need a pocket or a purse.” She never looked up as she reached for duct tape.
Lily stared at the young girl; her mouth dropped open. Catherine’s rumbling laugh was followed by a fit of choking on her coffee.
“Well, I never, but I guess it works!” Lily said as she picked up her purse and left the room. “I’m going with Sara.”
Somehow, over several days, brown sweat shirts and pants were fitted with felt legs, coiled wire became antenna glued to caps, and wings of black pantyhose, coated with hair spray, became amazingly realistic roach wings. Elastic, duct tape, Velcro and glue held everything together.
Sara told Grissom about the party, but decided to keep the costumes secret until they were dressed and could send him a video which Lindsay had already volunteered to “direct”. Not only were the costumes put together at Catherine’s house, they were going to dress and leave for the party from there so they could arrive together. Sara was secretly happy to have the night off so she could come home and sleep after the party.
The night of the party, Nick, Greg, and Sara arrived within minutes of each other; Morgan was already in Catherine’s house where she seemed to have lived for three days putting finishing touches on costumes.
Nick welcomed Sara. “Are you ready for this? We are going to be the highlight of the party or end it when we walk in. I hope Mrs. D.B. has a sense of humor!”
“I’m not sure why I agreed to this,” Sara whispered as Greg approached with a wide grin on his face.
“Ahh—we’ll have fun. D.B. is a fun guy.”
“Hey,” greeted Greg. “Are we ready to become bugs?” He changed his voice, “not just any bugs, but cockroaches! I wish Grissom were here—he’s not, is he?”
Sara shook her head. “Not this week. Still searching for new bugs in Peru.”
Once inside, everyone had wings, antenna, and legs attached to shirts and pants as Lily and Catherine passed bottles of beer to everyone.
Sara laughed, “It may take something stronger than beer to get me through this night!”
Morgan adjusted Sara’s cap of antenna. “We look good! And Lindsay and Lily have a ‘script’ ready for us to tape and send to your hubby.”
The script appeared; it involved music and dancing. Sara reached for another beer. After clicking on the camera, Lindsay gave a short introduction. Everyone followed directions, hiding faces as they formed a circle while Lindsay filmed. With a music cue, they broke apart, one by one, with Sara last, smiling for the camera, as they formed a dancing line of cockroaches, kicking feet into the air, doing several turns to show off the entire costume—this went on for thirty or forty seconds—before Nick or Greg, tangled in their own feet, tripped. The fall caused an avalanche of five as the others went down in a heap, laughing so hard they stayed on the floor as Greg yelled for help from the bottom of the pile.
“Cut! Perfect!” Lindsay shouted. “This is going to look great!”
Scrambling to get off the floor, the group watched a replay of their performance. Greg accused Nick of tripping him. Nick said Greg was clumsy. The women laughed at their own foolishness. Lindsay downloaded the video, less than two minutes long, and Sara hit ‘send’ to Grissom’s email.
Not waiting for a response, which might be in minutes or hours, the group left for the Russell’s house. It was decorated for a party. Lights were everywhere, hanging from bushes, decorating the house, in the flowerbeds. Bales of hay and pumpkins made a path to the front door. Several ‘ghosts’ were spotlighted hanging from the house. The five roaches tramping to the open front door were partly disguised by darkness and the color of their costumes. Behind them, a woman and man dressed as playing cards were adjusting their own costumes and did not seem to notice the invasion of insects.
Walking behind Sara, Catherine whispered, “I hope I do not regret this.”