A butler in Edwardian dress greeted us at the door and, in the posh tones of an Oxbridge graduate, informed us we would find the Misses Ducote in the kitchen and ushered us there.

The sounds of clinking china and utensils greeted us, along with the voices of the catering and serving staff who swarmed like bees under the basilisk gazes of the elder Ducote sister and her housekeeper, Clementine.

“Good evening, my dears.” Miss An’gel motioned for us to precede her back into the hallway. “Everything is under control here. Clementine is in charge, and I think we’d probably better get out of the way.”

We stood aside to let Miss An’gel lead us to the front parlor. The house glowed with light, and the mingled scents of vanilla and lavender emanated from the candles.

“This is going to be such a wonderful night, don’t you think?” Miss An’gel turned to smile at us, and now I had time to take in her costume.

I should have guessed that Miss An’gel would choose to portray one of the most indomitable females in all of mystery fiction. “Amelia Peabody Emerson. You look marvelous.”

Indeed, the elder Ducote sister made a splendid Amelia. She had the outfit down to the smallest detail, except for the umbrella the intrepid Egyptologist usually brandished. The split skirt, the pith helmet, the belt of tools, the sturdy boots—all perfect.

“Thank you, M’sieur Poirot. And how clever of you to bring Mrs. Oliver with you.” Miss An’gel’s aristocratic Mississippi drawl didn’t fit, but that didn’t matter. She had the grand manner down pat.

“Hello, everyone.” Miss Dickce spoke from behind us, and I did my best not to gawk when I turned to greet her. Beside me I heard Helen Louise turn a startled gasp into a more polite and genteel cough.

Red hair piled into a bun on the top of her head, a pencil sticking out of it, an overlarge handbag on her arm, and a pantsuit in neon shades of green and blue—the only thing missing was a cigarette. Miss Dickce was every bit as big a fan of Elizabeth Peters as her sister, and her portrayal of Jacqueline Kirby revealed an impish side to her character that I’d not suspected before now.

I bowed over her extended hand and brushed the knuckles with a light kiss. “Enchanté, madame.”

Miss Dickce giggled as I released her hand. “Merci, Hercule.” She clapped her hands, the handbag wobbling on her arm. “Isn’t this a hoot? We’re going to have a blast tonight. I can just feel it.”

“And no one is going to spoil the fun.” Miss An’gel regarded Helen Louise and me with a grim smile. “Vera won’t dare. She won’t bother either of you, I promise you that.”

“Thank you,” Helen Louise said. “I was doing my best to reassure Charlie of that on the way here.”

Miss Dickce moved to stand beside her sister. They exchanged a glance that seemed laden with meaning before she spoke. “An’gel and I have taken care of everything. After tonight, Vera won’t be in a position to bother anyone ever again.”