Party Crashers

Carlotta said, "and I'll find a place to park."
    She locked her car doors, then shouldered her "biggish" purse and checked to make sure the shocking price tag of the jumpsuit was still secure, tucked down inside the bodice beneath her armpit, held in place with a tiny safety pin.
    She climbed into the sedan and closed the door. The interior was luxurious and clean, but reeked of cigarette smoke. "What does your brother do?"
    "He's a hacker," Carlotta declared. "Mostly he plays computer games, but sometimes he'll get in the mood to work, help companies with their security, things like that."
    "He must be smart."
    "Yeah, especially for a nineteen-year-old."
    Jolie's eyebrows went up.
    Carlotta sighed as she turned into a parking place. "Yes, there's a big age difference. Mother thought another baby would help their marriage."
    Jolie could tell by the tone of her voice that it hadn't. "Sounds like you're close to your brother."
    She shrugged. "He lives with me." Then she turned off the ignition and smiled with approval. "You look great."
    "Thanks. So do you."
    Carlotta preened in her "borrowed" red bugle bead jacket over a silvery three-quarter-length dress. Her lustrous dark hair was skimmed back and twisted into a chignon. Against her black, black hair and her olive skin tone, her blue eyes were captivating.
    Jolie leaned in. "I thought your eyes were brown."
    "Tonight they're blue."
    "Contact lenses?"
    "Yeah, I have green ones, too, and a pair that looks like cat eyes—those freak everyone out a little. Are you ready for your shoes and new hair?" Carlotta had already turned to retrieve a bag from the backseat. "Here are the shoes."
    When Jolie opened the bag to find the soles of the silver-colored cut-out leather pumps covered with several layers of tape, she worked her mouth from side to side. "I feel like a thief."
    "Let's don't go through that again. Come on, we're going to be late. Remember to leave in the cardboard stays."
    Jolie removed the low heeled sandals she'd worn and pushed her feet into the yummy shoes.
    "Put your other shoes in your bag, just in case you have to...leave in a hurry."
    "You mean in case we get caught crashing and are chased out?"
    "It's rare, but it happens. It's just best to be prepared. Here's your wig." She hoisted a medium-brown pageboy wig, then angled her head. "But your hair looks great—are you sure you want to do this?"
    Jolie nodded, then, using the visor mirror, tucked her curls into a hairnet that Carlotta handed her and stretched the wig over her scalp. She tugged at the ends until all was even. The transformation was startling. She touched her face to prove to her brain that she truly was looking at herself.
    "Let me see," Carlotta said, then gasped when Jolie turned her head. "You look...completely different. Your boyfriend wouldn't even recognize—" She stopped. "I'm sorry, Jolie, I didn't mean to upset you—wait a minute." She gestured vaguely toward Jolie's getup. "Does this have something to do with that ?"
    Jolie's throat constricted. "Maybe."
    Carlotta squinted. "At the museum the other night when you were talking to Roger what's-his-name, was the mutual friend you mentioned your boyfriend?"
    "Yes."
    "But Roger denied knowing him."
    "He lied." Jolie hesitated, then pulled from her purse the photo she'd saved from Gary's album. "Gary is the one standing next to Roger. They look chummy to me."
    Carlotta hummed her agreement. "But why would the man lie?"
    Jolie was silent, knowing she could use an ally, but not sure if she could trust a woman who "borrowed" merchandise from the store and was having money problems. Then she glanced at herself—bewigged and wearing her own "borrowed" outfit—and realized that she was in no position to cast stones.
    Carlotta looked up. "What's your boyfriend's name again?"
    "Gary Hagan."
    "He's cute. I don't recognize him, but wow, that name still sounds so familiar."
    Jolie took a deep breath. "You've probably heard it on the news. His car was pulled out of the Chattahoochee River earlier this week."
    Carlotta's big blue eyes got even bigger. "He's dead?"
    "His body wasn't found," Jolie said carefully. "But a woman's body was in the car."
    Carlotta gasped. "Who?"
    "The police don't know yet."
    " Christ . Oh, you poor thing." Carlotta reached out to touch her arm. "You must be going crazy."
    "I'm muddling through."
    "Do you think he's alive?"
    "The police do. My car was stolen the same night Gary disappeared."
    " Christ . He killed