Chapter 8: Secure Panic

Pandemonium filled the ballroom. The sudden blackout plunged the room into chaos, with shouts for help, calls for lights, and pleas for security filling the air. Shadows leaped and twisted across the tablecloths and walls as a dozen cell phone lights flickered to life, their beams mixing with the glow of scattered candles that the sprinkler burst hadn't extinguished. The combined illumination transformed the various masks and costumes into shadow puppets, which alarmed a portion of the guests.

“Stay here,” Elliot told Alice and Belle.

Turning on his phone's flashlight, he started toward the crime scene. The bobbing lights revealed a mix of reactions. Some party-goers froze in place; others ran as soon as they heard a shout about a theft. About a dozen of the people who tried to flee had tripped or fallen over each other or the furniture in the dark.

Somewhere to his left, glass shattered—probably a champagne flute—and a fresh wave of screams erupted, this time laced with genuine terror as someone yelled, "Get away from me!" In front of Elliot, an older couple trembled while clutching each other. Shining the light at them, the young man softly suggested they sit down to be safe.

After they nodded in reply, Elliot began to move again.

“He’s got a knife! I’ve been stabbed,” a man bellowed, causing a woman to sob hysterically.

“That was my costume, you moron!” another man replied.

“My Rolex is gone!”

Swinging around at the sound, Elliot bumped into a woman. Slightly off balance, he reached over to steady himself. In the darkened, panicked room, his hand touching the woman set off an accusation.

“My purse! He tried to snatch it!” an old-school nurse shrieked.

A portly man in a bloodstained surgeon costume lunged forward, jabbing a finger toward the high school student. "You shit! Unhand her purse!" he bellowed, spittle flying,

“I didn’t…Get off me!” Elliot yelled, recoiling from the surgeon’s hands that went for his throat. Using his forearm, the accused knocked the drunk, out-of-shape man away.

“Please remain calm! Don’t panic. My men will assist you,” Malachi announced, seeking to quell the growing hysteria. “Somebody get those lights back on.”

Shoving past a Fred Flintstone, who came to the Surgeon’s aide, Elliot found himself forced around the tables rather than onto the dance floor, as he'd hoped. Within seconds, he stumbled over a sobbing Mary Poppins, who crumpled to the floor. Half-hiding under the table, her appearance took Elliot by surprise.

Initially concerned, the young man started to reach down until Fred Flintstone threw a punch over the table. The blow missed Elliot, but he heard the cartoon character yell, “Get him!” at a Phantom of the Opera.

Racing to his right, Elliot tripped over a turned-over chair, spinning sideways until the glancing blow from a table kept him upright. However, it also sent him slamming into the wall. Pain flared hot across Elliot’s hipbone as he braced himself on the back of a chair.

“My bracelet is missing!” another woman screamed.

“It’s at your feet, dear,” a man responded. “It must have slipped off.”

Despite the immediate correction, the announcement set off others. People started accusing their fellow guests of stealing from them, even before they checked for their valuables. A deep voice roared, “Someone call security! My wife’s been groped!”

“We got him now!”

The words caused Elliot to glance over his shoulder, where he saw Fred and Phantom only feet away. Jumping forward, the sober young man kicked the chair he’d just used at the two men.

“I didn’t try to steal her purse,” Elliot insisted, already moving.

Never stopping, the amateur detective continued his beeline for the distraught Francesca Horne. He passed a Saloon Girl slapping a Rockstar for getting handsy in the dark. A gray-haired Astronaut held onto a college-aged Aquaman’s arm while mentioning the police, which led the young hero to respond, “Get off me, grandpa. I didn’t touch your wife’s necklace.”

“Ohmigawd!” a Marilyn Monroe beside Elliot screamed directly into his ear.

With said ear ringing from the shriek, Elliot slid over a pushed-out chair while scanning the area around Ms. Horne. Skylar Cloud, dressed as Cavegirl, held out a plastic club as she stood in front of Avalon Ashmore. The elderly jewelry-lover patted her temporary protector on the arm, then moved past the actress to comfort Francesca.

A few feet away, Daphne Blake turned away from a table. A quick look to her side and at Elliot revealed the cartoon character’s identity: Holland Bishop. Miss Bishop turned away from the high school senior to move toward her employer, who stood on the other side of the theft victim.

“Dammit, this is getting out of control. Block the doors!” Malachi ordered, holding his phone up to illuminate his face. “Fleeman, full lockdown.”

The party host’s attempt to impose order immediately backfired.

"They’re locking us in!"

That spark ignited the remaining dry tinder of panic. Bodies surged toward the west wall's French doors, half-open to the moonlit terrace beyond, their frantic silhouettes exaggerated under the flickering phone lights and the few burning candles.

A trio of guests—a Zombie Bride, a Medusa, and a Fairy Queen—lunged for the north door’s promise of escape into the hallway. Their combined weight instead slammed into Pennywise and Nick Fury, sending all five tumbling into more guests. Nearly ten fallen people formed a bottleneck, enough for the security guards to shut the sliding door. Standing in front of the closed door, they warned the costumed guests to stand back.

“Please calm down! My team needs time to get the lights back on,” Malachi bellowed over the ballroom’s din. Next, he turned toward his head of security. “Fleeman?”

“I have two men headed for the fuse box in the basement. The power is also out in the security office, but it appears to still be on around the rest of the grounds.”

“So we can rule out a neighborhood blackout.” Malachi nodded and turned to the victim. “Franny, are you alright?”

“Besides that bastard stealing my necklace, I’m fine,” Francesca responded. Although the victim of the theft, her furious expression showed a woman ready for revenge.

“Was it a man? Did you see him?” Mal questioned.

“No, I only felt the Frost Diamond Necklace ripped from my neck. It was too dark for me to see anything.”

“Yes, whoever planned this…Can we get some more light in here?” Malachi asked.

“Oh! Does anyone have a lighter? I can try to get those candles burning,” Miss Bishop suggested.

A pair of cigarette lighters was produced, with Skylar Cloud taking the other one. The actress followed Holland’s direction to take care of the jack-o’-lanterns on the east tables while she worked on the ones closer to the French doors. Swiftly, the additional candlelight helped calm some of the party-goers down.

“We’re going to need to check everyone. This might get awkward or violent,” Malachi admitted. “Fleeman, nobody leaves the grounds without being checked. I don’t care how much they argue.”

“Understood. I’ll be back in a moment,” the former FBI agent said, nodding toward his men blocking the French doors. In the moonlight, the small group could see a half-dozen of his men waiting for orders out on the veranda.

“Raddatz, that man tried to steal my wife’s purse. I want him arrested,” the Bloodstained Surgeon demanded, while his two buddies grabbed Elliot’s arms from behind.

“I’m sorry…What?” Mal repeated, confused by the distraction.

“You heard me. We all saw the thief. He was caught red-handed!”

“I didn’t steal anything or try to, Mr. Raddatz,” Elliot protested. “The woman bumped into me while I tried to get over here to help.”

“Help? Nice try, shitbird!” Fred Flintstone mocked.

“Keever? What the…For fuck’s sake, I don’t have time for this. Let him go,” the party host responded dismissively.

“Malachi, I want this punk–”

“Stuff it, Saul, this ‘punk’ is a personal friend of my daughter’s, who is also assisting me tonight. He did not attempt to steal Ethel’s purse,” Mercedes’s father declared, rolling his eyes.

“No, we saw him–” Fred Flintstone insisted.

“You don’t know what you saw. It’s dark, and all three of you stink of booze. So, I don’t have time for an imaginary crime when a real one occurred. Now, let the kid go and apologize,” Mal ordered.

While Fred and Phantom let Elliot go, Saul, the Surgeon, kept arguing. He made veiled threats about payback for this disrespect. His diatribe lasted barely two minutes until a guard escorted him and his friends away.

“Insufferable prick,” Mal mumbled.

“I doubt the thief snatched my necklace before going after purses,” Francesca speculated.

“I agree. Most people are drunk and panicked. Who knows if they even wore what they think went missing?” Malachi replied.

“Um, I think you’re right. I saw or heard several people freak out before realizing they hadn’t had anything stolen,” Elliot interjected.

“I’ll still need to check and verify any claims. I’m responsible for their safety and well-being,” the party host stated. Then, he glanced at the victim and the elderly woman nearby. “Franny, Avalon, you two should go outside. I’ll have one of the men take your statements. It might save you some time when the police arrive. Although I’d prefer delaying that call until we can get a better handle on the situation. We’ll lose control once they take charge. ”

“If you think that’s best, Mal,” Francesca responded.

“It’s better to lock this place down. Once the cops show up, they might start letting guests leave,” Malachi said, more to himself than anyone. Lost in thought, he became distracted for almost a minute before snapping back to reality. “Elliot, you don’t need to stay in here either. Would you escort Ms. Horne and Mrs. Ashmore out to the veranda?”

“Sure. Um, should I get searched first?” Elliot asked.

“Will I also be frisked?” Mrs. Ashmore asked, smirking.

“Do you want to be?” Mal inquired, one hundred percent certain that the elderly woman wasn’t the thief.

“Perhaps in my younger days, I would’ve selected a handsome young guard to do the honors,” Avalon suggested with a smile. Then, she glanced over at Elliot. “Is this the teen detective your daughter brought in to help?”

“Something like that,” Mal said, startling several people nearby, including Francesca.

“Young man, you’ll have to tell me all about your past cases. Did you know I had jewelry stolen at my grand-niece’s wedding a few years ago? A trio of much younger investigators recovered it,” Avalon revealed, holding out her arm for Elliot to take with his left arm.

Francesca hugged and kissed Malachi before turning away. The timing worked out perfectly as Petra finally joined her husband. Her first words were to demand to know what happened. The sharp words made Elliot look over his shoulder, so he missed the purple-clad beauty in front of him.

Holland Bishop, aka Daphne Blake, fell backward, and Elliot, not paying attention, caused them to slam into one another. Reaching out with his right arm, the dexterous teen caught the spinning assistant before she hit the floor. Clutching him and his smoking jacket, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“My hero!”

“Are you okay, my dear?” Avalon asked, while Holland kept holding onto the blushing young man.

“Thanks to this guy,” Holland added, kissing the bandage that covered his cheek.

“Better choose a costume more wisely next time,” Francesca quipped, surprising Elliot with her attitude after having such an expensive necklace stolen.

While mulling over her reaction, Elliot escorted the two women through the French doors.

---

“How do you not own a phone?”

“I have a phone. I just left it with my clothes,” Graham explained for the second time in the last ten minutes.

“That doesn’t help, and you’re here to help,” Mercedes shot back, ducking a low-lying branch that needed trimming.

Already in a dither over having her valuables stolen, Mercedes got worse after Graham had suggested she stay behind in the art studio. Upset, she’d barely batted an eye at the discarded Batgirl costume he pointed out. She’d dismissed it as probably from a classmate who’d taken it off to fuck before the Mummy scared the lovers off. Despite his list of strange oddities about the female Caped Crusader, Mercedes brushed them off while storming out into the night.

Graham also recounted how he’d found her and the trouble he’d encountered. This information registered somewhat, and Mercedes vowed to deal with the bullies once back at school. For tonight, she had far more important matters to attend to.

While on the walkway, Graham showed surprising backbone by continuing to argue that he didn’t think Freddie Illig was the person in the mummy costume who attacked Mercedes. While not dismissing the theory outright, the heiress placed the odds at 60-40 in favor of the class prankster being the thief.

“Where am I supposed to put it? This costume doesn’t have pockets,” Graham pointed out.

“You find a place. Geez, Higbee, do you see any pockets on this getup? No, but I still had my phone on me before getting hoisted into the air.”

“Where did you have it?”

“Duh! Down my top. This thing has a killer push-up bra if you haven’t noticed,” Mercedes revealed, causing Graham to gulp and blush. “Not tight enough to keep it from falling when I’m upside down.”

“Alright, so the Mummy picked up your phone and took it with him. Why?”

“I don’t know! Maybe that shithead hopes to find my personal pictures and use them as a distraction. Luckily, I know better than to use a weak passcode. I’m not a fool who has her nudes get free that easily.”

Trying to ignore the images the redhead had put in his head, Graham pondered other reasons the thief might have taken her phone.

“Look, let’s say for a second that it was the Seeper, not Freddie. Could your phone be used to help him? Like access more jewels outside of the vault? Or possibly allow him to access the security to unlock one of the gates to escape?” the crime hobbyist speculated.

“I don’t know. I guess so. But it’s more likely he took my phone so that I couldn’t call for help once I got down.”

Reaching the edge of the woods, the pair saw the lighted guest house first. Strangely, the dance floor was empty, and the DJ wasn’t playing any music. As they walked closer to the pool area, they noticed their classmates mingling, talking quietly while facing away from the guest house and pool house.

“What the hell?” Mercedes said after noticing the dark mansion behind her guests. “Shit, you might be right.”

Marching forward, the redhead started shouting Kayla and Brielle’s names. The petite brunette and buxom blonde appeared within a minute. Both girls, especially the smaller one, seemed intoxicated. Mercedes had to slow down their rambling to get a sense of what happened.

“This happened almost twenty minutes ago? Why the fuck isn’t the power back on—Finally!” Mercedes exclaimed as the mansion lit up again.

“Cede! Where is your necklace and choker?” Kayla questioned, noticing the missing items.

“Freddie stole them and everything else. Fucker had me hanging upside down in a tree.”

“He what?!” Brielle squealed.

“Hold on. We don’t know if it was Freddie or not. Someone else could be the Mummy,” Graham clarified, earning a dirty look from the ginger-haired Marie Antoinette.

“Whatever,” Mercedes said, then raised her voice. “Has anyone seen Illig recently?”

“Or the mummy costume that he wore,” Graham added, getting surprised looks for talking so loudly.

Scattered replies came in. Most sightings could be pinned to around the same time Graham saw him during the bully standoff. The last sighting placed the Mummy heading toward the mansion. That nugget made Mercedes’s mind up.

“I'd better find my dad. Where the hell is Mullen, too? He never showed up at the studio,” Mercedes grumbled.

“Maybe the blackout kept him from meeting you,” Kayla suggested.

“Wait, what about the woman I noticed?” Graham asked, hurrying to follow the trio as they walked toward the pool deck.

“Wha…Oh, right, Batgirl. I don’t know. You can look for her while watching for Freddie. I need to find my dad,” Mercedes repeated.

“Um, what about Tucker, Zayn, and the rest of them?” the bookworm queried, worried about the bullies confronting him again.

“Shit! I don’t have time for this, Higbee!” Mercedes exclaimed. Halting her movement, she spun around to locate somebody. “Ryle, Bash, you’re Higbee’s bodyguards until I say so. Keep him safe. Got that? Good!”

With Superman and Mace Windu giving him puzzled looks, Graham threw up his hands and shrugged sheepishly. Motioning for them to come over, he also noticed Karsten and Diego join them.

“Why are you suddenly so important?” Bash asked.

“Is this about the thief’s letter? Is that why the power went out?” Diego questioned, knowing more than most people about Elliot’s reason for attending the party.

“Shit, you were serious earlier? I thought you just made that up, Higbee,” Bash admitted.

“Um, has anyone seen Batgirl recently–no, I mean, has anyone seen a girl dressed as Velma?” Graham asked.

“Velma?”

“Like from Scooby?”

“Yes, Velma Dinkley from Scooby-Doo,” Graham confirmed. “You know, she’s wearing an orange turtleneck sweater, a red skirt, and orange knee-high socks. Oh, she also has eyeglasses.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her around. Why?” Karsten responded.

“I believe she might also be the girl who had been wearing the Batgirl costume tonight. I found it in the art studio right before I found Mercedes hanging from a tree,” Graham recounted.

Completely unaware of Mercedes’s high-flying predicament, the guys bombarded the bookworm with questions. Graham attempted to answer as many as quickly as possible. Finally, he had to shut down the rest.

“I’m serious. This might be vital. When have you last seen the girl dressed as Velma?”

“Oh, right. Uh…I think I saw her on the far side of the pool house not too long ago,” Ryle recalled, pointing toward the west side of the pool area.

“Yeah, I think Percy had zeroed in on her,” Karsten added.

"Miss Mystery does seem rather well-endowed, or she's rocking a serious push-up bra,”

Bash said. "And you know Pascoe."

“I know,” Graham sighed.

Walking in the direction he'd been told, Graham stopped after fifteen feet to look at the guys behind him. Holding out his hands reminded Bash and Ryle of Mercedes’s order.

“Uh, right. We need to keep Higbee safe,” Bash informed the others needlessly.

Now rolling with a four-man entourage, Graham ignored the confusion and shock on his classmates' faces. He did spot Tucker Travers send him a sinister smile underneath his Batman cowl until he saw Ryle in his Superman costume step forward to walk alongside the bookworm. Even more confusing, Bash did the same on the opposite side, with Diego and Karsten following their two friends.

“What’s up, Grammy? I see you rounded up a posse. Do you need the law, as well?” Reese inquired, jumping off a table after tipping her hat.

“Um, right. Thanks for before,” Graham said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he needed a girl to save him. “Have you seen someone dressed as Velma Dinkley? I think Percy might have–”

“Ah, roger that. I think half the party has heard Austin Powers suggesting to her that they compare who has the worst hairdo in private,” Reese chuckled, while Simone shook her head in disgust.

“Crap. Did they go somewhere?” Graham asked.

“Please. You give your buddy far too much credit. He hasn’t sealed the deal yet,” Reese scoffed, raising her hand. “They’re over there.”

Graham turned to see Percy and Velma through the crowd, almost twenty yards away. His flirtatious family friend lived up to his reputation, as the mystery girl seemed amused by his antics. Still, Percy’s persuasion prowess success or failure rate wasn’t the goal of the search.

“Percy! Percy! Over here!” Graham shouted, taking several yells to draw his attention. “Grab Velma. She might be an imposter!”

“Huh?” Austin Powers replied as Velma’s head swung toward Graham.

“Velma might be a fake! Grab her!”

“Jinkies!” the mystery girl exclaimed.

Graham groaned as he watched Percy’s confusion let Velma make a break for it.

---

After listening to Ms. Horne and Mrs. Ashmore retell the moments directly before the power went out for a second time, Elliot wandered off. A mystery lover, his inexperience as an investigator started to gnaw at him.

Graham would probably know better than me as what to do now. Should I start searching the mansion, maybe by focusing on the doors and windows? Or should I focus on possible escape routes over the walls or on how to access the gates?

With so many younger guests at the rear of the mansion, Elliot decided to start around the corner from the French doors by focusing on the front area. Moving to the south lawn, the teen nodded at a few passing guards. Several of them recognized him from a short time before as someone their boss had vouched for.

This feels dumb, Elliot thought, poking through bushes against the front wall of the mansion. Still, the avid reader recalled a Hercule Poirot mystery where a thief hid stolen jewelry in a bush or something similar. With such a heavy security presence, stealing the necklace and leaving it hidden nearby might make sense. I'd imagine it's an especially smart idea if they expected Mr. Raddatz to have the guests searched.

“Oh, I should call Mercedes,” Elliot said aloud. He hadn’t thought of it until now, since he knew Graham had left his phone in the cloakroom.

Elliot frowned as the number Kayla had given him went straight to voicemail both times. With no other options, he called Kayla.

“Hey, where are you?” his neighbor asked when she answered.

“I’m in front of the house. Where are you at? Is Graham or Mercedes nearby?”

“He’s in front. I don’t know—Hey!”

“Keever, what the hell happened?” Mercedes challenged, yanking the phone away from Kayla.

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?!”

“Somebody cut the power, and when the lights went off in the ballroom, they stole Ms. Horne’s diamond necklace,” Elliot recounted.

“That bastard stole the Frost Diamond Necklace?! That’s what he just said,” the redhead said, speaking to her two friends before returning to the call. “Wait, when did this happen?”

Elliot paused to estimate when the blackout occurred. He told Mercedes, and he heard her curse as she muttered something about it maybe being enough time to get from one theft to another.

“Hold up. Did you just say a second theft? What did–” Elliot began to ask until his arm got grabbed roughly.

“I finally found you,” a security guard declared, grabbing the cell phone and ending the call. “You’re out of here, kid.”

“Huh? Hey!” Elliot exclaimed.

The sweaty guard continued to roughly manhandle Elliot’s arm until he had it forced behind the teen’s back. Now in a semi-arrested position, the specially invited guest was marched across the front lawn.

“What are you…I didn’t do anything,” Elliot protested, once they passed the front door. His phone kept ringing, undoubtedly from an irate redhead.

“Oh, really? Listen, punk, I’ve been harassed for the last forty minutes or so by Miss Raddatz. She wanted you found and kicked out. So this is one load off my shoulders,” the guard said.

“Miss…I was just on the phone with Mercedes. You hung up on her,” Elliot revealed. “Just hit redial or answer the next call.”

“Nice try, but I’m not buying it,” the man replied, now pushing the teen down the curved driveway. “I’m to find the guy dressed as a mummy, and that’s you.”

“The Mummy? I’m not the Mummy. That’s Freddie Illig. I’m Elliot Keever, and I’m the Invisible Man,” Elliot explained. “Check the guest list. You’ll see, uh, crap, you might not see my name, but you’ll find Freddie’s on it.”

“Hey, open up the gate.”

“No can do,” the guard, whom Elliot recognized as Chuck, responded. He stood inside the gate, holding a shotgun. The teen spotted Tim outside the gate with a similar firearm.

“What do you mean? I have orders, Chuck.”

“I have orders, too, Mullen.”

“From who?”

“What’s the problem, Mullen?” the lead gate guard asked, exiting the gatehouse.

“Orders from the boss’s daughter. She wants this troublemaker kicked out immediately,” Mullen relayed.

“Sorry, our orders are to go on full lockdown. The gates can’t be opened, and our orders come from the bossman,” Bowers explained.

“Fine. You don’t need to open the gate. I’ll take him through the gatehouse and march him down to the corner. That should be—”

“Can’t allow that either, Mullen,” Bowers said, standing firm about his orders. “No one is to leave.”

“But Miss Raddatz wants him gone. No excuses. I can just slip out and slip back in before–” Mullen continued to argue, while pushing Elliot almost to the gatehouse door.

“Not happening,” Bowers proclaimed, motioning for Chuck to block the door.

“Listen, this is all a big misunderstanding. I’m not the Mummy, I’m the Invisible Man. My name is Elliot Keever, not Freddie Illig. You remember me, Mr. Bowers. I’m one of the last-minute guests whom Mr. Raddatz came down here to vouch for personally,” Elliot reminded.

“Shut up!” Mullen commanded. “Damn kid is a liar. That’s probably one reason Mercedes wants him gone.”

“What do you think, Chuck?” Bowers asked.

“Not sure. Voice sounds kinda familiar, but his face is covered.”

“Here, let me take these bandages off,” Elliot offered.

A shout from the mansion's side door stopped everyone in their tracks.