I wandered over to the other side of the cul-de-sac to help some of the neighborhood moms set up a small scavenger hunt for the kids. Georgeann Wilkins was there, dressed like a scarecrow, orange braided wig, freckles, and some sort of mouth thing that made it seem like she had gapped teeth. It wasn’t a great look, and I wished she had the decency to know it. But I was still glad to see her. Finally, someone who wasn’t pissed off at me.

“Don’t you look cute,” I said.

“This?” She laughed. “It’s an old costume. I’m surprised it still fits.” She took a small toy out of a plastic bag and hid it in a crook of a tree. “Maggie was looking for you, by the way,” she said. “She was just here... I don’t know where she went.” Georgeann’s wig shifted; she tried to straighten it.

I felt sick to my stomach. “What did she want me for?”

“I think the story she’s doing? She was going on about something—I didn’t catch it all, don’t tell her. I think it’s about the party? And that haunted bridge. Though she was also going on about Jackie, a woman who hasn’t lived here in years, so I don’t—”

“You knew Jackie?” I asked.

Georgeann stopped. “Well, yeah. Did you? You wouldn’t have. She moved away a long time ago. She was great. You would’ve loved her, Theresa.”

Great? That was the first time I’d heard anyone say anything nice about Jackie Hendricks.

“Wow,” I said. “When Kendra talked about her, she made her sound like the devil.”

“Really?” Georgeann tugged on a braid. “I didn’t feel that way at all. I was sad when she left.”

If only you knew the half of it.

“She was so pretty. And fun. I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” She gestured to me. “That’s why they recruited you, I’m sure.”

When I got back to the house a half hour later, I hustled upstairs to put on my owl costume.

It was still a nightmare, but with Lily’s suggestions—a turtleneck, dark tights, and boots—plus the spooky black-and-gold owl mask and an owl ears headband I’d found online, it was salvageable. And once it got dark outside, no one would be able to tell the difference anyway.

Skipping down the stairs, I tried to psyche myself up. Everything’s going to be fine. The party will be great. You—

I nearly fell over when I spotted Maggie Lewis sitting calmly in my living room, dressed as a fairy godmother, as though she’d just blown in from the fireplace.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her.

“Your hubby let me in. He said to wait for you here.”

“I can’t really chat now, Maggie.” Or ever. “I’ve got to get ready for the party.”