Dark Jenny (7 page)

“Certainly.”

I went to the tray. In the time she’d been alone with the apples, she could’ve done anything to them, including replace them all. But it didn’t mean an examination would tell me nothing.

I picked up a knife from a nearby place setting. Immediately Kay stiffened and moved closer. I realized he was getting into position to protect the queen and gave him a wry smile.

Unable to grasp the knife in my puffy right hand, I used my left to awkwardly turn several of the apples. I looked for any discoloration that might show where the poison had been added. I found none. The killer apparently trusted that blind luck would have Gillian pick up the lone poisoned apple. “Are they all here?” I asked.

“As far as I know.” She indicated herself and her maids. “We certainly haven’t eaten any of them.”

“Are these apples special?”

“In what way?”

“Can you find others like them anywhere besides the royal orchard?”

Surprised, she said, “I suppose one could. I’m no gardener, but I’m not aware that they’re any rare variety.”

I leaned down and sniffed. The same aroma I’d smelled from the late Sir Patrice was barely present. I looked more closely at the nearest apple and at last found what I sought: a tiny bump, easily missed, on the bottom near the calyx indention. I picked up the fruit with a napkin and said, “Look at this.”

When Jennifer started to move, Kay stepped in front of her and said, “Hand me the knife first.”

I did. Then Kay and Jennifer crowded close. “What is it?” Kay asked.

I transferred the fruit to the palm of my injured hand and tapped the bump with my fingernail. It fell off and revealed a hole no larger in diameter than a sewing needle. “A bit of wax to seal the hole. Do you still have the one that killed Patrice on you?”

Kay nodded and produced it, still wrapped in my handkerchief. I quickly found an identical wax seal in the same spot. “That’s where the poison was injected into them, and then sealed.”

Jennifer looked at me with either admiration or wariness; it was hard to tell. “So every apple was poisoned this way?”

“Let’s see.” Now that I knew what I sought, it only took moments to inspect them all. Roughly half of them were poisoned, and piled so that the lethal ones were on top.

Her breathtaking face creased with confusion. “But Mr. LaCrosse, they were with me the whole time. This could not have been done quickly; when would the killer have had an opportunity?”

I shrugged. “We’ll know that when we catch him. Or her.”

“I don’t care for your manner, sir,” the queen snapped.

“Neither do I. I grieve over it on warm summer evenings. But may I give you some advice? No one’s accused you of anything yet, and when you jump at every innuendo, it just makes you look guilty. You might want to put on a thicker skin until we get this straightened out.”

Her eyes opened wide, then narrowed, and the contempt that shot from them was enough to wither a cornfield. I understood Kay’s reluctance to confront her. She straightened her back and raised her chin, which made her seem far taller than she was. With regal disdain she told Kay, “I would appreciate it if you’d show this
person
out of my chambers.”

I pocketed Patrice’s apple. “I apologize if candor offends you, Your Majesty. If you think of anything that might help us, I hope your low opinion of me won’t make you keep it to yourself.” I made another perfect courtly bow. By the time I rose, Rebecca had scurried across the room and again held the door for us.

Halfway down the stairs to the main hall, Kay stopped, leaned against the stone wall, and sighed. He put away the dagger, then unlocked the disk to release the big loop of slack. “At least our heads are still attached. Thank you for not mentioning Elliot.”

“No promises the next time.” I raised my hands and extended the cuffs.

He shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

The manacles had me both angry and a touch claustrophobic. “Come on, you saw the other apples. I couldn’t have poisoned them, too.”

“‘Too’? Are you admitting you poisoned the first one?” he teased.

“Stop that. You know I didn’t do it. Now get these things off me.”

“It’s for your own good, Eddie, seriously. If you’re seen without those before we find the real killer, the folks who think you’re guilty may decide to dispense their own justice.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, adding in my head,
and I won’t let the drawbridge hit me on my way out.

“Not with that, you won’t.” He nodded at my injured hand. I could neither straighten nor curl my fingers now, and my knuckles were hidden under puffy, darkening skin. “Guess Iris was right. That’ll sure hurt by tonight.”

I couldn’t argue; it sure hurt right
now
. “All right, so I’m still your prisoner. So tell me: how much can we trust what Queen Jennifer told us?”

“I’ve never known her to lie.”

“You’ve never known her to murder anyone before, either.”

He chuckled deep in his chest. “If you’re going to suspect everyone even after you’ve questioned them, how are we going to make any progress? I’d like to solve this before we’re both too old to enjoy it.”

Yet again I wanted to smack him, but under the circumstances it still seemed like a bad move. So I took a deep breath, calmed down, and said, “Okay, you’re right, I don’t
really
think she had anything to do with it, but I
do
think she knows more than she’s telling. But keeping secrets isn’t a crime.”

When we hit the banquet room again, it was worse than before. As soon as they saw me, the guests’ murmuring escalated to shouts and catcalls. One of the courtiers, a white-haired fellow with eyebrows like caterpillars, bellowed, “Sir Robert, I
demand
you speak with us!”

“Great,” Kay muttered. “You stay here,” he told me, and strode over to the man. “Yes, Lord Shortridge, what can I do for you?”

“You can let us out of here for one thing. It’s past sunset, and I for one did not come prepared for an overnight stay. Why, I don’t even have the proper toiletries for my skin.” Then he pointed a long finger at me. “And we all know he’s the murderer, yet you keep him leashed at your side as if he were your favorite foxhound!”

The nobles chimed in with their agreement. Across the room, Gillian still watched me with his cold, implacable eyes. Agravaine was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m glad you’re all so sure of things,” Kay said. “But as long as Marcus Drake rules Grand Bruan, we’ll approach this based on the law of the land. That law says a man must be assumed innocent until
proven
guilty.” He looked disdainfully at the glass in Shortridge’s hand. “And I don’t think that proof will be found in the bottom of a wine bottle.”

“You’re using the king’s law to protect a killer!” someone cried.

“Queen Jennifer can render justice in this case,” Shortridge said. “She has the royal rank,
and
the full support of the nobles.” The crowd chimed in its agreement. “We demand you convene a trial, followed by that man’s execution.”

“Demand all you want,” Kay said. “But you’re guests here, not rulers. Another treasonous outburst like this, where you openly advocate bypassing the king’s law, and you can easily become prisoners.” He turned and walked back toward me.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of treason!” Shortridge yelled. “I am a lord of Grand Bruan!”

Kay dismissed him with a wave, but his face was grim as he approached me. “Listen, we’ve got to get you out of sight.” He nodded toward yet another door. “Follow me and try to look nonchalant.”

This wasn’t another kitchen antechamber, but one of Nodlon Castle’s private lounging areas. It was empty, and through the windows I saw the moon full and bright over the ocean.

Kay lit some lamps, and light from the tiny wicks reflected from myriad polished surfaces. Used as a refuge for the idle rich during tedious ceremonies, the decor was lush and sumptuous, redolent of fat bottoms and wheezing bosoms. The lingering smell of expensive cologne masked a subtler odor of sweaty desperation and decay, the common scents of any castle.

Kay opened the liquor cabinet, selected a really top-class vintage, and fished a corkscrew from a cluttered drawer. “This situation is way too close to getting out of hand,” he said as he poured our drinks. He downed his in a single swallow. “I’m going to go get Marc.”

“You’re
leaving
?” I said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll assign someone to protect you. As long as you stay out of sight, you’ll be fine. And once Marc gets here, you should be able to leave with no difficulties.”

“So where is Marc?”

“At his main castle in Motlace. If I leave now and ride all night, I can be there well before dawn. Once he hears what’s going on, he’ll want to come sort it out himself.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

Kay grinned wearily. “I am.” He nodded at one of the tapestries. “Do you know anything about him?”

The woven picture showed a man in hugely complicated regalia riding an equally decked-out horse across a flowered field. He carried a sword nearly as long as he was tall. At the far right of the image, apparently his goal, stood a woman with downcast eyes and a multipointed crown. Despite the artistic license, I recognized her as Jennifer Drake.

I looked more closely at the king’s face, visible beneath his open visor. It was square-jawed and handsome, with long hair flowing from beneath his helmet. His beard was short and neat, and his eyes half-closed in either communion with the spirit world, or boredom. His lips were unnaturally red, a stylistic element I’d seen on a lot of Grand Bruan tapestries. “Just what I’ve heard back home.”

Kay poured himself another drink. “He’s the reason I have this job. He lived with me and my family in secret until he was fifteen and claimed the crown. We were raised as brothers. I used to make sure no one picked on him when he was little, and then after he put on six inches and fifty pounds the summer he turned fourteen, he made sure no one picked on me.”

“Is he as honest as they say?”

“He’s the best man I know. And I’m completely serious. Marc always tries to do the right thing, and he’s smart enough to know what that is.”

One tapestry showed Marcus on one knee, presenting a ring to Jennifer. Her dress had a train long enough to cross the channel separating Grand Bruan from the mainland. “How attached is he to his queen?”

“Watch the two of them together and you’ll be lucky to get away without a toothache.”

“So you want me to just sit around and wait for King Marcus to ride in and save the day?”

“It won’t be all bad, I promise. I’ll make sure you get a room stocked with liquor for three.”

“Who are the other two?”

He grinned. “There are no other two. And once Marc is on the scene, everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

I sipped my drink and nodded, wishing I had his confidence. King Marcus Drake might be as spotless as Kay described, and I sure hoped he was. But as anyone who’s ever polished armor knows, nothing attracts bird shit like a clean, shiny surface. And the buzzards were already gathered around us.

chapter

SIX

Left alone in the swanky lounge, I suddenly realized just how badly my hand hurt. My fingers would barely flex at all, and the swelling reached the second knuckles. I must’ve been really angry to throw such a clumsy punch. And the damn manacles hadn’t helped.

To distract myself while I waited for my room, I looked over some of the other tapestries. One especially held my attention. It showed Marcus Drake as a teenage boy, pulling Belacrux from the tree where it had been embedded awaiting the island’s true king. Behind him stood a younger but still recognizable Bob Kay, and watching over all this was a tall, husky man with a wide-brimmed hat. This would be Cameron Kern, who’d guided Drake’s career from birth. His powers were so legendary as to be ludicrous: he could tell the future, turn the tide of battle, fly through the air, and transform into any animal he wished. He’d once magically caused an entire fleet of invading ships to burst into flame.

If he could’ve really done those things, of course, then he would’ve seen it coming when the king dismissed him and sent him packing. The rumors surrounding the reason were just as outlandish.

Another tapestry showed the Drakes’ wedding ceremony, suitably exaggerated to include thousands of well-wishers outside the castle. Both king and queen looked young and idealistic, and again I spotted someone I recognized: Thomas Gillian, in armor and cape, waiting his turn to be knighted.

A pair of secondary figures caught my eye. They were depicted inside the castle, which gave them status, but far to the back of the witnesses. One was a small, dark-haired woman with enormous blue eyes, in an elaborate black gown that looked funereal. Beside her was a boy of about five, also black-clad and somehow more disturbing.

I held a lamp closer to these two. Their woven shapes were barely six inches tall, but the detail was extraordinary, so that the faces had the individuality of real life. Something about the boy seemed familiar to me, even though I’d never been to this island before. I couldn’t place it, though, before a firm knock preceded the opening of the door.

Thomas Gillian entered. He carefully closed the door behind him, then locked it. He put his back against it, stood at ease, and said, “Sir Robert has put you in my charge.”

“What precisely does that entail?”

“Where you go, I go. I protect you and, if you get out of line, restrain you. Up to, and including, execution.” He said all this with absolutely no emotion.

“I guess I better behave, then.”

“It would be in your best interest. Sir Robert has sent for the doctor to tend your hand, and she should arrive shortly.”

The thought of seeing the dark-haired doctor again improved my mood. “Well, that’s something. Kay opened a bottle; would you like a drink?”

He shook his head. “Given that someone has already tried to poison me once today, I think I’ll stick to my own sources of refreshment for a bit.”

Someone knocked softly at the door. Gillian unlocked it and stepped back.