Chapter 3 - Dressing Well Means Accessories

Spike inspected the clothes the suitcase contained. "I was thinking of maybe being a waiter," he told the suitcase. Not surprisingly, the suitcase made no response. The vampire shrugged, and removed the midnight-blue dinner suit and all the accessories, including studs, a black tie, black socks, white linen handkerchief, and black toe-cap shoes. "I am going to need some duct tape, if you can." He looked in the bottom of the case. "Or surgical tape," he agreed, taking a small plastic dispenser. "Thanks."

Dressed, he moved his wallet and his crystal phone from his jeans to the jacket and slipped the tape in the back fold of his cummerbund, then went to shut the closet door. The suitcase, hanging from the rod, contained another suit, more contemporary than his. Also, much bigger, he realized, inspecting the size 16 shoes.

Interesting. He was familiar with the supply spells Ann had installed around her home: his closet, the pantry and the wine cellar. Xiuling had found clothing in his closet, but she was already Ann's guest. He shrugged. There was only one person here these clothes might fit, no matter how they had arrived in his suitcase.

"Wowie," Cordelia said, eyeing the vampire from head to feet.

"I didn't get the idea of disguise across to the suitcase," Spike said.

"Darn," Cordelia said. "I had a sudden inspiration: I'd dress as a mystery model. Guess my artist and painting."

"Now that might be interesting," Spike said. "Gunn, you should go look in the suitcase. It's hanging in the closet."

The taller young man glanced at the vampire, then went upstairs.

"You know what's most impressive?" Cordelia asked. "You tied your own tie, and without a mirror. That's almost a lost art."

"What you learn young, you can always do. Even when I was human, I always tied my own tie and never used a mirror to do it. Do you need to look at your shoes when you tie them?"

"No, not really."

"There you are. That's a most becoming dress."

"Thank you. Angel griped about it for weeks, but I pointed out we need all sorts of outfits if we want to avoid notice by wearing the same dress for two stake-outs in a row."

"That's office equipment?" Spike looked more closely at the long black halter dress Cordelia wore.

"It's practical. It has a couple pairs of sleeves I can snap in and I can change the ruffle for simple white lace or a black chiffon capelet. I can change the look a lot of ways." Cordelia sighed. "Ann took me to Milan when she gave me my beautiful Armani, but I'm certainly not wearing it when I might have to climb walls or fight vampires."

"This may be practical, but you still look very good."

"Thanks."

"Do you have a blank card?"

"Sure."

"Thanks; and I'll need to stop at an ATM," Spike said, writing his name and Ann's land line phone number.

Presently, Gunn returned. He carried his jacket, which was a wool and silk summer weight blend, with a silk grosgrain shawl collar, in an ivory which warmed his dark skin. His evening shirt was Sea Island cotton, in a paler ivory, with a bird's-eye self-pattern; he had an untied black tie loose around his neck.

Spike nodded. "I thought it was for you."

"Oh, yeah, who else? It fits perfectly," Cordelia said. "Even the shoes. Ann's good."

"I feel like a damn fool."

"It's a disguise," Cordy said. "If we were at a stake-out on the beach, you'd wear trunks, wouldn't you?"

"I'd rather wear trunks."

"It's protective coloration," the vampire said. "If it's appropriate for the situation and comfortable, professionally you haven't got anything to complain about. Is it comfortable? Can you move and fight?"

"I guess."

"And it's appropriate enough that no one will really notice you, they'll be too busy wondering who your tailor is."

"All right, but I don't have to like it. I figured out most of it, but I need help with the tie and the cuffs. Are these the links?" He held up a pair of onyx linked studs that matched the studs in his shirt, but these were cabochons with an intaglio design of a laurel wreath, with a small diamond where the boughs crossed.

"Yes," Spike said. "These are a little noticeable, but you're big enough to carry them off. This style was popular when anyone wearing cuff links had a valet. They're tricky to manage alone. Let me."

"I'll do your tie," Cordelia said.

"Don't I get a vest?" Gunn asked.

"Never with a cummerbund," Spike said. "If you really want one, take it up with the suitcase, although I somehow got the impression it doesn't enjoy listening to complaints. Did you remember to thank it?"

"Ah..."

"Don't forget next time."

Gunn inspected his reflection in the big mirror. "I guess it's not too funny looking. You know, it's sort of handy, having a mirror here. Too bad we'll have to take it down when Angel gets back."

"Why rub it in?" Cordelia asked. "You do look good, both of you. Spike is classic, at least up to the neck, and Gunn is also classic, but a different style, all over. Each look is different and each look is perfect. How does Ann do it?"

"A while back, she enchanted the closet in my room; after I got your call, the suitcase was in the closet. I gave it a quick check--it had clothes, sheets, towels, toiletries--so I brought it along."

"It supplied a couple of stakes, too," Gunn said.

"Right," Spike said. "Do you have some spare holy water?"

"And how are you going to carry holy water in that outfit?" Cordelia asked.

"In a bottle," Spike said. "In my pocket."

"It'll leak. They always leak. Take this." Cordelia handed him a brushed aluminum tube, larger than a lipstick, smaller than a container of canned air. There were shallow finger depressions on one side.

It fit comfortably in the vampire's hand. "What is it?" He removed the cap and saw a push button with an opening.

"Aerosol holy water. In the executive spray can."

"Where do you get that?"

"Well, you buy the can and the pump--it's totally air quality friendly, no hydrocarbons or ozone-eaters at all--from `StreetSmarts, the Magazine for the Modern City Woman,' but you don't fill it with the generic mace they sell, you use the holy water we get from one of Wesley's sources."

"`StreetSmarts?' What is that about?" Spike asked, slipping the spray into his pocket.

"Well, daily life in large cities. They advertise their own brand of mace spray, anti-tap boxes for your phone, combs with stilettos inside, snap batons, some other really nice but unfortunately illegal weapons, in your choice of finishes and with leather cases in all the current fashion colors. In the back pages, the magazine lists a bunch of tracers, private detectives who will give you a background check on your newest boyfriend. Angel won't let us do anything like that, even though the basic fee, just for a quick check, is a thousand dollars!"

"Principles," Gunn said.

"Fatheadedness," Cordelia said.

"So do you still have one for yourself?" the vampire asked Cordelia.

"Oh, sure. I bought the office a gross of them, and Wesley gets the holy water by the gallon. Just don't throw it away when it's empty." Cordelia lifted a shoe box full of the silver tubes. Gunn slipped a couple into his jacket pockets and Cordelia stowed one in the pocket of her full skirts.

Wesley came down. He was wearing a neat black suit, white shirt and navy tie. "Good lord, Gunn. That's very nice."

"It popped up in Spike's suitcase. Something from Gytha, is my guess."

"I think she's put a supply spell on the suitcase, or maybe it's sort of an extension of the supply spell on my closet," Spike said.

"Astonishing," Wesley said. "You've never asked her how she does this?"

"I assume it's magic," Spike shrugged. "She's good at it and it means I don't have to shop."

"I guess there's a down side to everything," Cordelia said. "I'll drive."

Cordelia turned right and passed under the freeway. She drove south down Getty Center Drive, past the intersection with West Chalon Road. This entrance had bars across both lanes and the entrance to the parking structure. The booth was unmanned.

"It's empty," Cordelia said.

"Shouldn't be. Stop here," Gunn said.

"Yeah," Spike agreed. "We'll go take a look."

"Well," Spike said. "This changes things." He looked down at the parking attendant, lying on the floor of the booth.

"So who killed him?"

"That one?" Spike answered, nodding over Gunn's shoulder at a vampire, running silently from the interior of the garage.

Gunn pulled a stake out of his pocket and used it. The vampire appeared surprised just before he fragmented into dust. "They started early."

"Or maybe we're running a little late." Spike searched the attendant, taking two sets of keys; a worn key card; a walkie-talkie in the form of an earplug on a cord with an in-line microphone, which connected to a control box, which was about the size of a deck of cards and displayed the usual phone buttons; a wallet; some personal gear and an unmarked key card in a fancy leather case, which fastened to the body's belt with a steel chain. "Damn. I'd be happier with Cordelia out of here."

Gunn glanced at him.

"Guest list; staff list. All right. We'll take this, too," the vampire said, taking a clipboard from the kiosk counter. "She's not like Ann."

"Who is? She doesn't just stand around and scream, though."

Spike nodded absently, looking over at the pile of dust. "It's hard to search a pile of dust. I didn't notice what he was wearing."

"Like us," Gunn said.

"Which means he might be passing as a guest, a waiter or a personal security guard," Spike said. "Let's move this one away from here, over there, where it's darker. We don't want panic just yet."

"OK."

"I'm not happy with the number of gates between us and the road, either."

"Two of them," Gunn agreed. "How would you do it?"

"I'd have transport waiting in the arrival plaza and back-up cars down on the access road; but then," Spike said cheerfully, "I'd have a lot of minions to be low level gang members and I'd be a villain. Good guys are always out-numbered."

"Here comes the car. You like being a good guy?"

"I enjoy the company." Spike frowned at the buttons in the booth, then pressed the one labeled "close gate 2." The bar came down behind Angel's black Plymouth. Spike locked the bar that governed access to the main parking structure open and left the booth. The vampire and the ex-troll got in the back seat of the convertible. Cordelia drove along the service road.

"There are some cars up in the plaza," Gunn said.

"Right," Spike said. "Where are we putting this one? In case we need to get to it fast?"

"The signs say: Truck and Service Parking Ahead. I don't want to walk that far."

"Too damned far away," Wesley said.

"There's room right over there," Cordy said. "Watch this." She accelerated, turned the wheel, hit the brake, straightened the wheel, let the brake up, hit it again, and stopped.

Wesley gasped. Gunn gripped the door handle. After they stopped, they glanced around, moving only their eyes. Slowly, they relaxed.

"I have to get out your side, Gunn," Spike said, calmly, looking at the wall pressing close to the car on the right.

"Wimps," Cordelia said. "Like you never parked on a curb."

"And it's very nearly unnoticeable," Wesley said.

"You're probably not the gardeners' favorite visitor," Spike said, "considering what you may have parked on, but that was very well executed."

"Thanks," the woman said.

"Just a second," Gunn said. "Things have been happening." Briefly, the ex-troll gave a run down of what they had found in the kiosk.

"But now," Spike said, "we may be able to use the easy entrance down here."

"Good," Cordelia said.

Spike inspected the lock, then the keys he had taken from the dead parking guard. The third key he tried opened the door. He listened, then nodded to the others.

"So they're not using this entrance for anybody?" Gunn asked, walking into the freight receiving area.

"I would say not tonight," Wesley said.

"Since they're using the café just across the garden, they may be running all the catering out of there, instead of bring the food up in the lift, which should be around this way," Spike said. "Right. Let's see how it works. Ah, a key card. I wonder if we have that one. No, not this one. Yes, we do. Where should we take this, Cordelia?"

Cordy eyed the selection panel. "We want lobby/gallery."

Chapter 4

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