Florida Knight (42 page)

Michael shook his head. “Afraid not. I’m almost more puzzled than when I started. I’m making inquiries about some other possibilities, but so far I just keep turning up more questions than answers.” He took a deep breath, his frown transforming into a gentle smile. “That’s not why I wanted to talk to you two. I’ve got a friend, a trooper, who does a lot of volunteer work at the
Dorning
Development
Center
. You’ve heard of it?” Michael asked.

“Sure,” Mona said. “They’ve been around here forever.”

“Well, his son has some developmental problems, so he knows a lot about the place, knows a lot of people. He introduced me to the right ones. It seems”—Michael caught and held Bubba’s undivided attention—“it seems they could use someone strong around the place. Someone to help with the kids who have trouble getting around. Someone with lots of good nature and smiles who can charm away tears. Someone who wouldn’t mind doing odd jobs.” Michael left the thought hanging, closely watching their reaction. raised his eyebrows, inquiring. Would Bubba mind the menial labor? Would Mona take offense?

“Would he get paid?” Kate interjected, a lioness defending her cub.

Michael grinned. “Yes, he’d get paid. Not much, but more than the grocery store. And the people he’s working with will be a hell of a lot more understanding.”

Mona burst into tears. After awkwardly patting her back, Bubba stood up, unfolding to his full six feet, six inches. He crossed the room, held out his hand. Michael rose to his feet to meet him. In the end, they didn’t shake. Silently, they hugged each other while the girls’ tears spilled onto the carpet.

It wasn’t often that LALOC Events occurred two weekends in a row. But the Event north of
Tampa
had mostly attracted a local crowd. The one the following weekend, at the huge campground where Michael had been introduced to LALOC, was what was called a Kingdom Event. It would attract LALOC members from the Panhandle to the
Everglades
, even though some would have a six- or seven-hour drive each way.

It was also going to be a showdown weekend. Of that, both Michael and Kate were certain. LALOC spies had let them know that Alfric was at home, happily going about his business as a full-time armorer who also sold weapons via a web site. He was, indeed, married, with a daughter as well as a son. Geoffrey, Corwyn informed them, was his usual—if they’d pardon the expression—“bitchy self.” Don Antonio had disappeared into his office in a warehouse in an industrial park east of I-75 near
Manatee
Bay
and showed no signs of interest in anything beyond his business. Brocc, too, was at work. Someone had checked, even though he was still banished from LALOC events. Thor, also, was on the job. Both were paramedics in the
Orlando
area. As far as anyone could tell, rumors about Raven being FHP had not leaked.

Even to Kate, Michael had not mentioned that Corwyn and Marius were not above suspicion. But, obviously, neither king nor prince had disappeared, as he’d talked on the phone to both Corwyn and to Kiri, Marius’s live-in girlfriend. If he hadn’t been so distracted by nights spent in Kate’s narrow bed in the mobile home, he might have been impatient for the weekend to come, but as it was . . . well, hell, this was the kind of week that could repeat itself for a year or so and he wouldn’t mind.

He was good at pitching camp now, could spot a flat site, sort out the puzzle of which aluminum pole went where, drive in a tent stake with one blow. Well, most of the time. Raven was actually whistling as he and Cat began to unload the camp chairs, their garb, and other personal belongings. Maybe meeting with Corwyn and the other royals could be postponed until tomorrow. Maybe, just for tonight, he and Cat could extend the euphoria, be like the other LALOC members happily making camp, laying out food, changing into medieval garb, hanging heraldry banners, checking their weapons or the perfection of the artistic creations many were to exhibit the next day.

While eating a late supper of travelers’ stew and homemade bread in the Feast Hall, Raven was far from disappointed to discover the royal entourage had not yet arrived. He could take his time, look over the vendors’ wares right outside the hall’s front door. On their way in, he’d noted that once again Alfric and Beorn were side by side, the knives featured by the leather-crafter gleaming in the spotlights fixed on the roof of the Feast Hall. Odd that he hadn’t thought about those knives before. So many LALOC members carried knives on their belts, even the women, that Beorn’s display had not set off alarm bells. Perhaps it should have. But the person they were after had, so far, been more subtle. Clever without being overtly violent. Except with the crossbow. He never got in close, one on one. So . . .

Maybe
not
a fighter. Which effectively eliminated Brocc, Thor, Corwyn and Marius, even Don Antonio. As far as he could tell, they were all stand-up fighters. Not a sneaky bone in their bodies. If you didn’t count politics. The stirring strains of The Ride of the Valkyries suddenly echoed through his head, images of Brocc plunging the end of his duct-taped rattan sword into Cat flashed like a strobe. Okay, Brocc wasn’t as stand-up as the others. Brocc was still at the top of the list.

Idly, Raven picked up the longest and most lethal-looking of Beorn’s knives, the
Bowie
he’d seen on his first venture in LALOC. Supposedly, it was a hunter’s tool that could skin a deer or slit a throat with equal ease.  Raven laid it back on the table with care.

He did a swift survey of the items Alfric was laying out on the table next to Beorn’s. He couldn’t recall the damn names, but suddenly he realized Alfric sold armor and only armor. Helms, breast plates, knee, shin, and elbow guards. Gauntlets. No swords, no knives, nothing that was a weapon in itself. Not that it really mattered, Raven supposed. Alfric could still have a screw loose somewhere, but it was Beorn who dealt in lethal weapons. Beorn who might possibly be undaunted—even intrigued— by mischief gone awry.

Then again, maybe not. For the same reason that tended to eliminate the fighters. The
nut case
he was looking for was a clever sneaking little worm, too smart or too fearful for outright violence. Someone who faded into the crowd, maneuvered, schemed, got his jollies from watching the mighty fall. And knowing he had done it.

Which fit Geoffrey, the twerp, right down to his supercilious smirk and beady little eyes.

He’d never live it down at the barracks if he had to tell them the butler did it.

“You plannin’ on skinnin’ a deer?” Max asked, peering over Raven’s shoulder.

“Just a perp,” Raven deadpanned.

“The bad guy?” Max asked after a moment’s thought. “Yeah . . . too bad you can’t really do it. That guy’s caused a lot of trouble.” Max paused, then confided, “I used to have one of those. When I was bikin’. Hardly ever used it, but it sure kept guys from pickin’ fights.”

Raven smiled, patted Max on his massive shoulder. “I imagine size had something to do with it too.”

“Yeah,” Max grinned. “Guess so. No one messed with
me
!”

For a fraction of a second, Raven toyed with the idea of putting Max on the suspect list. Max had a surprising amount of his old smarts left. And a far better reason to hate the world than anyone else he knew.

But Max was genuinely good-natured, Raven was sure of it. Not Max, definitely not Max.
Never Max
.

“M’lord.” Beorn interrupted Raven’s uncomfortable speculation. “I hear you’re a cop.”

Raven winced, sneaked a peek at Alfric who was still methodically unloading his plastic packing cases full of armor. “Maybe,” Raven conceded. “Why?”

“Last weekend a hunting knife, just like that one, disappeared off my table. I thought someone should know. Corwyn and Drakon haven’t shown up yet, so I’m telling you instead.”

“Someone stole a knife like this?” Raven repeated, wondering if Beorn was covering his own ass. Or, more likely, their weirded-out perp was
now armed and truly dangerous.

Alfric’s tent was next to Beorn’s last weekend as well.

Then again, no one ever claimed all LALOC members were candidates for sainthood. Someone might have resorted to plain old-fashioned theft of an item they coveted.

“When did it disappear?” Raven asked. “What time of day?”

“Didn’t notice until I was packing up, but it couldn’t have been gone long. So figure late afternoon.”

About the time Alfric left. About the time someone was driving a sword through Queen Eilis’s cloak. Oh, hell, it was just one big whirling circle of clues that refused to stop long enough to spit out a justifiable suspect.

Raven looked up to find Cat and Alys looking on, fear burgeoning in both sets of eyes. He turned back to Beorn. “I’ll tell Corwyn. Thanks for letting us know. If someone wasn’t planning on skinning a deer, that’s a pretty lethal weapon to have on the loose.”

“M’lord.” Eyes solemn, Beorn bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

“Coincidence?” Cat asked as they reached the sandy road leading to their campsite. “Or do we need to watch our backs?”

“I don’t like it,” Raven admitted. “He’s likely panicking because he knows we’re getting close.”

“Then why doesn’t he run?” Alys interjected.

“Maybe he has,” Raven replied.

“But all our suspects are on site,” Cat said. “Or will be when Corwyn and company arrive.”

“Which doesn’t mean it’s any of them,” Raven countered. “This is the damnedest puzzle I’ve ever run into.”

“Kinda
like football,” Max said. “F
irst one guy’s got the ball, then another. And then you find out it’s a third guy who’s had it all the time.”

“’Fraid so.” Raven sighed, adding with an elaborate flexing of shoulders and arms, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to call it a night.”

“What about Corwyn?” Cat asked, ignoring Raven’s hint.

“Lost knives and our thousand suspects can wait ‘til morning. I’m ready for bed.”

“But not for sleep, hey, Raven?” Max’s clap on his back sent Raven stumbling forward a full twelve inches.

Alys choked, fisting her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. Cat knuckled her forehead, took a deep breath. “Max,” she declared through gritted teeth, “you know all that duct tape I carry around with me? Well, your mouth is next!” Her giant friend’s rumbling laugh was still echoing as the couples separated, an anticipatory gleam in all four pairs of eyes. Friday nights were good. A balmy evening, a burgeoning moon, the great outdoors . . . the partner of your dreams beside you. All cocooned in a culture hundreds of years in the past. What more could either couple ask of romance?

Hours later, Raven woke—coughing, choking, tears rolling down his face. “Cat, wake up! There’s a fire. Come on, up and out! Go, go, go!” Stumbling through a fog of smoke, they pawed their way out of the tent. Outside, the miasma of smoke was worse. Warning shouts, frantic calls as friends searched for each other in near zero visibility.

“Max, Alys!” Cat cried. Raven held her tight against him, refusing to let her charge off into God alone knew what.

“Here,” Max rumbled, lumbering out of the charcoal cloud, pushing Alys before him.

Alys rubbed her hands over her eyes, looked straight at Raven, instinctively trusting his judgment.. “We’ve got to get out of here
!
Which way do we go?”

“Do any of you see
flames?”Raven demanded. “Any place that’s glowing red? Do you hear flames crackling?” Four heads swiveled, scanning what had once been a rustic campsite and was now an all-encompassing cloud of billowing smoke.

“Just smoke, right?” Raven said. “Smoke that smells funny, not like wood smoke. Concentrated behind our tent, but no sign of fire.”

“A smoke bomb?” Cat exclaimed. “You think that’s all it is?”

“Anything that panics people isn’t minor. This is enough smoke to send the whole campground fleeing for their lives. Somebody’s bound to get hurt. But, yes, I think it’s a smoke bomb, set off in the woods behind us. And I’m guessing it’s not an accident. Our perp is getting personal. He’s probably long gone, but I’m going to head over there where it’s blackest and see what I can find.”

Cat grabbed his arm. “Don’t forget the missing knife!”

“I could be wrong,” Raven said in the calm tone he’d perfected at countless accident scenes. “It could be a low ground fire flaring up with the morning breeze. Whatever it is, it’s close, and I need to check it out.
Go to the Feast Hall, I’ll find you.
”

“I’m with you, man,” Max said. Raven opened his mouth on an automatic
no
, closed it. Max looked as alive as he’d ever seen him. A three-hundred-pound behemoth rising out of the swirling smoke of hell. He’d never had a better offer of backup.

As the two men disappeared into the darkness, Cat lifted up her nightshirt, wiped the smoke-fed tears from her eyes. She swallowed to get the acrid dryness out of her throat. “Alys,” she instructed firmly, “You can see the glow from the light on the wash house. Walk toward it and you’ll find the path. Just follow the sand out to the Feast Hall. Find Corwyn, Drakon or the ranger. Get them back here a.s.a.p.”