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desk. He’ll be manning that desk when he’s not patrolling the area.”
    “Delicia? Berkeley? Duncan?”
    “Yep. They’re sharing office space to save on rent.”
    “So we’ll all be together!” I said as I returned to my office. I began pulling party supplies off the shelves and putting everything in boxes Brad had set out for me.
    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Brad said.
    I stopped filling a box with ornate candlesticks I’d once used as props for a murder mystery party, and turned to Brad, still holding one of the candlesticks in my hand. “What do you mean you were hoping I’d say that?”
    “Uh . . . you’ve got a roommate this time. Delicia.”
    He fled with his box before I could get a good grip on the candlestick. Don’t get me wrong. I love Delicia and consider her my best friend, next to my mother. But that girl never shuts up. Without a wall between us, I wasn’t going to get a thing done.
     
    The Art Deco Administration Building, aka Building One, is the first of only a few structures remaining from the World’s Fair that tourists see when they enter Treasure Island. In fact, they can’t miss it. The concave half-circle design not only lures visitors to stop by, but it’s probably the safest building on the island in the event of an earthquake. Tourists love to take pictures standing next to the large nude statues that flank the entrance and peek inside the heavy glass and brass doors at the huge dome inside. According to one of the many Treasure Island Web sites, “a security desk commands attention in the middle of the sweeping hallway and serves mostly as a courtesy to tourists who want to know more about this intriguing, anachronistic structure.”
    Currently, Raj Reddy, my favorite security guard on the island, manned the desk. Behind him, covering more than a dozen large wall panels, was a colorful mural illustrating the history of TI from its creation to the present.
    Underneath the panels were doors to small offices, including one for the historical society museum. I wondered which of the remaining offices was my new party headquarters.
    “Hey, Raj,” I said, wheeling a cart towered with several boxes into the expansive hall. “I guess we’re still going to be office neighbors.”
    Raj bobbled his head and gave a grin that revealed a small gap between his two front teeth. “Yes, Ms. Presley. Welcome to our new building. This is so much nicer than those old barracks. I’m so glad Mr. Brad got us a good deal.”
    I turned and eyed Brad who had followed me over, wheeling his own stack of boxes.
    “So, which one is mine?” I asked him.
    I needn’t have bothered to ask. My former office neighbor, Delicia Jackson, popped her head out of a door on the right marked “104” and waved.
    “Presley! Don’t you love it? It’s divine! And we’re roomies! Come see!”
    Delicia was a mostly out-of-work actress who spoke in exclamation marks punctuated by dramatic inflection. When she wasn’t auditioning for commercials or small theater productions, she helped me out with my party business, doing everything from making decorations to appearing as a Disney princess. Petite, with latte-colored skin and long dark hair, she caught the eye of most men in her path, and had broken many a heart in her search for her Prince Charming.
    I waved back and wheeled my cart toward her.
    She pushed the door wide-open and ushered me in with a sweep of her hand. Most of the space in the tiny office was taken up by two face-to-face desks, one metal and covered with theater bills, ragged scripts, and head shots of Dee. The other, wood, stood pristine, waiting for me. The two walls behind the desks were lined with shelves, empty for the most part. It wouldn’t take me long to fill them with everything from paper party hats to murder mystery weapons.
    Brad unloaded the boxes while I began filling up the shelves. Dee kept busy hanging posters from Wicked , Rent , Hairspray , and Beach Blanket Babylon .