Holding Court (12 page)

Chapter Twenty

The Police Are Summoned

Hank gestures at a chair across from the officers and takes a seat behind his desk. He’s in his full-on Henry VIII regalia and he looks very stern and regal and like he might behead anyone who gives him any shit.

“Mistress Verity, allow me to introduce Officer Kilbride and Officer Lasky.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, and the officers each give me a brief nod.

“Gentlemen, this is Juliet Verity. She’s the young woman who claims to have seen the body in the passageway.” He turns back to me. “Mistress Verity, I believe we’ve discovered the identity of the young woman you saw in the passageway.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Yesterday, Geoffrey came to me with some very distressing news. He said he’d recently discovered that his assistant, Miss Sarah Buckley, had been helping herself to certain costuming materials—fabrics, trims, and most distressingly, the jewels used to decorate my garments. He believes she had been at it for some time and may have even been ‘borrowing’ some of my privately commissioned jewelry and weaponry in order to replace the valuable jewels with worthless fakes before returning the pieces to my personal inventory. We believe she must have had an accomplice. Geoffrey tells us that you were asking about Sarah yesterday—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Bacon,” Officer Kilbride interrupts. “Would you mind if I asked Miss Verity a few questions before you go any further?”

“By all means,” Hank says, and Officer Kilbride continues.

“Miss Verity, we really appreciate your help with this matter. Can you tell me, how did you come to be employed here at Tudor Times?”

“I saw an ad in the local newspaper and came for an interview. King Henry, I mean, Mr. Bacon, offered me the job on a trial basis and asked if I could start right away.”

“I see. Do you have a previous relationship with any of the employees here?”

“Um, I go to high school with two of the employees, Grayson Chandler and Bree Blair, and there are a few others. I haven’t met everyone who works here yet.”

“Friday was your first day of employment?”

“Yes.”

“And Mr. Bacon tells us you claim to have seen a dead body in a secret passageway off the Main Hall on Friday evening. Is that correct?”

“Yes. I was just coming here to tell Mr. Bacon that I’d figured out who I saw in the passageway.”

“Indeed? Why don’t you start from the beginning, Miss Verity, and tell us what happened Friday night.”

“Okay, um, I was heading downstairs from the Oratory—that’s where I hang out as the Maid of Kent—and I had just entered the main hallway when I heard voices coming from farther down and I, uh…I decided to hide.”

“Why did you decide to hide, Miss Verity? Did you feel you were in danger for some reason?”

“No, I, um, just didn’t want anyone to see me right then. So I ducked into this little alcove that contains a suit of armor and I was trying to squeeze behind the suit when my elbow bumped the ax that sits in one of the armored gloves, which triggered some sort of secret mechanism and then there I was in the passageway.”

“And what did you see in the passageway?”

“Well, at first I couldn’t see anything, and then I felt around and found a wall sconce and that’s when I tripped over something on the ground that turned out to be a dead body.”

“How do you know it was a dead body?”

“I didn’t realize she was dead at first. She was lying on the floor staring up at me, and I was still freaked out by the whole revolving suit of armor thing and was kind of distracted.”

“And what made you think she was dead?”

“Well, I basically fell right on top of her and she didn’t react, and then I noticed she wasn’t blinking and her eyes were all bulgy and weird-looking and there was this huge gold chain wrapped around her neck that was biting into her skin.”

“I see. And did you recognize this dead girl?”

“No. Like I said, Friday was my first day of work here so I don’t know very many people yet.”

“And what is your job, Miss Verity?”

“I play the Maid of Kent. She was a Tudor prophetess.”

“I see. And do you consider yourself a prophetess, Miss Verity?”

“Not really, no.”

“Not really?”

“No. I don’t consider myself a prophetess,” I say, so of course my PTS decides this is the perfect time to prove my lack of prophetic skills. “Be alert to the squirt and smell the ketchup!” I yell and decide I should so get Eleanor Roosevelt bonus points for being an individual for that one.

Officer Kilbride’s expression doesn’t change, but he pulls a notebook out of his breast pocket and writes something down. When he’s finished he looks up at me and says, “Miss Verity, I understand you’re in the care of your grandmother, Mrs. Vivian Gilbert, who runs a matchmaking service in Lunevale?”

“Yes, that’s my Gran,” I say, knowing that any credibility I might’ve had left has been wiped out by An Aura of Romance. And then I feel a surge of hope that maybe instead of thinking she’s a total kook, he’ll turn out to be one of Gran’s satisfied customers, like Bree’s aunt.

“And do you also believe that you can see auras?”

Rats
. “No, sir. That’s Gran’s gift, not mine.”

“And what is your ‘gift,’ Miss Verity?”

I totally set myself up for that one. “It’s really more like a curse. I have this, um…blurting disorder thing.”

“Blurting disorder?”

“Yeah. I’m not really sure what the purpose is, other than to humiliate me on a daily basis, but Gran thinks… Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

“Yes, I have.”

“It’s kind of hard to explain, but according to Gran’s theory, the smell of ketchup is the butterfly that might help you avoid a tornado.”

“I see.” He obviously doesn’t.

“It makes more sense when Gran explains it. And the stuff I say almost never makes sense at first, but eventually turns out to be true somehow.”

“So, you’re saying that you
are
psychic?”

“I don’t really know what I am, Officer Kilbride. But if you could let me know about the ketchup that might help.”

“Did you want to make any other predictions while you’re at it?” he asks. “Something about mustard, perhaps? Or maybe mayonnaise?” He smiles like we’re condiment coconspirators.

“It doesn’t really work that way.” This is so not going well. “I just sort of blurt stuff out at inopportune moments. Especially when I’m nervous or under stress.”

“I see. What are you nervous about, Miss Verity?”

“I didn’t say I was nervous.” Why would I be nervous? Just because I’m being grilled by the police about a possible murder and at any moment I could blurt something that sounds way more suspicious than ketchup? Nah. I’m totally zen.

“You said, ‘nervous or under stress,’ did you not?”

“I said
especially
. And yeah, I find stumbling over a dead body stressful. Not to mention having said dead body then disappear. And having everyone think I’m crazy. And not knowing what I’m going to say when I blurt stuff out. I’m actually pretty relieved that I blurted something about condiments, if you want to know the truth.”

I swear I hear Officer Lasky snicker, but when I look over at him he’s staring intently at his own notebook.

Officer Kilbride clears his throat. “Perhaps we could get back on track here, Miss Verity?”

“Absolutely, Officer. I’m happy to oblige.” Okay, what’s the worst-case scenario here? The fact that they don’t seem to believe me about the body means they can’t possibly think I killed anyone, right?

“If you could describe the body you saw?”

“Sure.” I force myself to focus on the facts. “It was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, and she had dark hair and dark eyes. I’m pretty sure she was wearing a costume. I remember seeing white sleeves and a black or dark-colored bodice, and she had a thick gold necklace wrapped around her neck. Like, digging-into-her-skin-choking-her, wrapped around her neck.”

“Could you describe this necklace?”

“It was a heavy gold chain with squares about an inch and a half wide and it was studded with pearls and rubies.”

“Is this the necklace you saw, Miss Verity?” Officer Kilbride holds up a photograph of a heavy gold necklace studded with pearls and red and black stones.

“Yes, I think so. It was kind of twisted when I saw it, but it looked very similar.” I give Hank a penitent glance. “And I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I went back into the passageway with Angelique and she found this.” I pull out the pearl and offer it to Officer Kilbride. “Gran says it’s fake.”

Officer Kilbride takes the pearl, then looks at Hank and they have a moment of silent inscrutable communication.

“Also, I’m pretty sure the dead girl was Sarah Buckley. That’s why I was asking about her yesterday. I recognized her in one of the pictures on the wall in the Great Wardrobe.”

“That sounds quite reasonable. Thank you, Mistress Verity,” Hank says. “You’ve been most enlightening.” The way he says it, the word “enlightening” sounds more like “infuriating.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Did you find Sarah’s body?”
I
don’t feel the least bit enlightened.

“We do not currently know the whereabouts of Sarah Buckley,” Officer Lasky butts in. “I have a couple of questions for you, too, Miss Verity, if you don’t mind.” He flips through his notebook. “I understand your mother owns an antique shop in Lunevale?”

“Yes, Love at Second Sight. But what does that—”

“And do you work there, Miss Verity?”

“Yes, when my mom’s there. But she’s doing some appraisal work in Europe at the moment.” Which is where I wish I was at the moment.

“So, she’s out of town?”

“Yes.” I refrain from saying that Europe is
clearly
not in Lunevale.

“And when did she leave?”

“On Friday. Why are you asking me about my mom?” Oh God. What if they call my mom?

“I’d like to run a little scenario by you, Miss Verity. Would you indulge me for a moment?” He says this like I have the option to refuse.

“Um, sure?”

“In this scenario you are helping Sarah Buckley remove the jewels from Mr. Bacon’s Tudor replicas and then replace them with fakes. When Mr. Bacon comes into your family’s antique shop and your mom tells him the jewels in his pendant are fake, you realize the gig is up and you and Sarah formulate a plan. You take the job at Tudor Times so you can help Sarah stage her disappearance.”

“That’s some scenario,” I say. I can’t tell if he’s being serious or just messing with me for some reason. I look at Officer Kilbride, but he’s busy flipping through his notebook. “And there just happened to be a job opening at Tudor Times right when I needed one?” I ask Officer Lasky.

“As I understand it, Mr. Bacon recently discovered that one of his employees was pregnant. Would you happen to know how he came by that information or would you like me to enlighten you, Miss Verity?” He continues without waiting for a response. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. You take the job so that you can be the one to find Sarah’s body, which, conveniently enough, disappears before anyone else sees it. So Miss Buckley escapes with the jewels while we fruitlessly scour the castle for her body.”

“Does that mean you’ve actually looked for her?”

“I assume Miss Buckley gave you a cut of the jewels which you plan to sell using your mother’s connections?”

“Her ‘connections’? Are you serious? My mom runs an antique shop, not a jewel-smuggling ring. Pardon me for saying so, but your ‘scenario’ is ridiculous,” I say in a carefully controlled tone instead of yelling, “Are you a freaking moron?”

“As is the smell of ketchup causing a tornado,” Officer Lasky says.

Touché.

“I believe we’re done here,” Officer Lasky announces and both officers stand.

“FYI,” I say, “I know you probably won’t believe me because I have no proof, but someone ran me off the road on my way home from Tudor Times last night. I don’t know if it was an accident or someone trying to hurt me on purpose, but I thought you might want to know.”

Hank looks alarmed. Officer Kilbride looks mildly interested. And Officer Lasky has obviously checked out already.

“Did you file a police report, Miss Verity?” Officer Kilbride asks.

“No, I was going to do that today. And here you are, so I’m reporting it.”

“Do you have a description of the car?” Officer Kilbride asks.

“No, it happened too fast and I blacked out when I landed. Another Tudor Times employee saw my bike and stopped to help me. He took me to the ER.”

“Mistress Verity, the next time something like this happens, and I fervently hope there will not be a next time, please notify me immediately,” Hank says. “I will not tolerate reckless driving on my property, and if it was indeed a hit-and-run it should have been reported without delay.”

“Well, hopefully it
was
an accident, because if there is a next time I might be too dead to report it.”

“I would hate to see that happen, Miss Verity,” Officer Kilbride says. He reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a card. “I strongly suggest you call me when you’re ready to tell me whatever it is you’re trying to hide.” He follows Officer Lasky to the door and turns back one last time. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Bacon.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Am I in Trouble?

“
There’s no way they actually think I have some kind of jewelry forgery scam going, right?” I ask Hank once the officers are gone. “Because that’s ridiculous.”

“I would agree, Mistress Verity.”

“But I really did see a dead body.”

“I believe you, Mistress Verity. Our interactions thus far lead me to believe you are truthful to a fault.”

“Somehow I don’t think you mean that as a compliment. Your Majesty—Mr. Bacon—I hope you know there’s no way I’d make something like this up. It would obviously be pretty bad for your business if people heard you had dead bodies lying around the place.”

“Indeed it would. But if there
is
a dead body, and if someone purposely drove you off the road last night, then seeing that justice is served matters a great deal more to me than my bottom line.”

“Did the police even look for Sarah’s body?”

“I showed them the secret passageway and told them where you said you saw the body.”

“Thanks for believing me. I promise I won’t go back in the passageway. I have no desire to try to catch a murderer or anything. I just wanted to prove that I’m not crazy and I really did see a dead girl.”

“Are you certain she was murdered?” Hank asks.

“Well, I guess she could have choked herself with your necklace, but it seems like a pretty ineffective way of killing yourself.”

“How do you know she wasn’t pretending to be dead?”

“Unless she used to work as a statue or has been taking lessons from old Mr. Farley, aka the Corpse, she was definitely dead. I’d much rather she was alive, but I don’t think that’s a possibility.”

“We shall see.”

I can’t quite figure Hank out. With his Henry VIII obsession I feel like there should be a sense of fruitcake solidarity between us; at the same time I have to wonder if a person with that level of obsession can be completely credible. Which is what makes me say, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly, Mistress Verity.”

“Did you really not know about the secret passageways? Before I found Sarah, I mean?”

“I’ve been rather distracted with preparing for the opening of Tudor Times. I’m afraid I’ve neglected a few things I shouldn’t have. After we closed last night I went through the secret entranceway in the alcove and conducted a thorough exploration.”

“No sign of a dead body, huh?”

Hank shakes his head.

“I hate to ask but, how much do you trust Floyd? He said he knew about the passageways and didn’t tell you.”

“I think Floyd makes a better friend than an enemy, Mistress Verity. And as he knows all of Lunewood Castle’s secrets, I would have thought he’d do a much better job of getting away with murder had he committed one. If that is indeed what we’re dealing with and not some elaborate jewel forgery scam as the police seem to believe.”

“You don’t really think I’m in cahoots with Sarah Buckley, do you?”

“I think Officer Lasky thought there was something you were holding back and was trying to get you to confess whatever it was by making preposterous suggestions. At least I hope that’s the case.”

“I swear I don’t have anything to confess. I’ve told you everything I know. I even told you I went back into the passageway after you told me not to.”

“You said you were trying to hide behind the suit of armor. Why? You weren’t in some kind of danger, I hope? If you were, you must tell me.”

“The only danger I was in was being seen in a nun outfit by the guy I’ve had a crush on since sixth grade.”

Hank guffaws. Seriously, there’s no other word for his laugh. “Well, now. It’s all starting to make sense,” he says.

“Yeah, except for the part where the body disappeared.”

“Yes.” Hank is instantly serious. “That part is truly vexing. One set of stairs in the passageway leads down into the dungeon and the other up into my private chamber.” He makes a steeple with his pointer fingers and taps them together. “How long would you say it was between the time you exited the passageway and I entered it?”

“I don’t know, maybe five to ten minutes?”

“Curious. I wonder if… Never mind.” He waves a hand in the air in dismissal. “This is a discussion for the police. I do not want you involved in this any more than you already are. Someone knows the truth of what you saw in the passageway and that someone is, according to you, potentially a murderer. I intend to post a squire outside the Oratory for your safety today. I do not want you going anywhere in the castle alone, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then may I suggest I escort you to the Great Wardrobe to get your costume and then perhaps you could enjoy a quick meal in the staff dining room while I see about finding you a squire?”

“Lead on, Your Majesty.”

When we get to the Great Wardrobe there’s no sign of Geoffrey, which is a relief since I can’t help but feel like he was trying to implicate me somehow in Sarah’s jewel forgery scheme.

I change into my nun habit while King Henry waits in the hallway bellowing “Greetings, fine sir!” and “Well met, madam!” at passersby. When I’m properly nunned out he leads the way to the staff dining room, which is tucked into the northwest corner of the castle.

“Enjoy, Mistress Verity. I shall send a squire to take you up to the Oratory.” King Henry bows and takes his leave.

I go over to a long wooden table loaded with an enormous amount of food that looks pretty much like what they serve the castle guests. There are baskets piled with huge slices of bread, plates of cheese, chafing dishes filled with roast beef, salmon, sausages, chicken, artichokes, turnips, carrots and peas, and at the far end, a selection of puddings, fruit and custard tarts, and the cute little marzipan animals.

I load up a plate and find a seat at a corner table. There are a few people scattered around the room in various stages of Tudor dress, and anyone who’s eating is wearing some sort of smock over their costume.

“You’re not supposed to eat in costume unless you’re part of the banquet in the Great Hall, but you can just throw one of these on.” A guy dressed in a white-and-blue tunic and tights grabs a folded square of fabric from a stack near the door and hands it to me. Then he pulls out the seat across from me and sits down. “So, you’re the new nun, eh?” He grabs one of the carrots off my plate and pops it into his mouth. “I’m Jared. Squire to the great and noble Sir Henry Courtenay, Earl of Devon and Marquess of Exeter. Which basically means I clean up horse shit all day.”

“Jules Verity. Crazy psychic nun.”

“Good to meet you, Jules. I hear you found a dead body.”

I blink at him for a second and then say, “Well, that’s a relief. And here I thought I’d hallucinated it.”

“Word is it was Sarah, the wardrobe assistant. So, how’d they do her in? Was there lots of blood?” He reaches for another carrot, and I resist the urge to slap his hand.

“I take it you weren’t friends with Sarah?” I say, pulling my plate closer to me.

He chews on his carrot. My carrot. “I don’t think anyone here was friends with Sarah. If being a bitch is grounds for murder there are plenty of suspects at Tudor Times. In fact I’ve got plenty of motive myself.”

“Um, are you sure you should be telling people that?”

“I said I have motive, I didn’t say I killed her. Why would I be asking you about her if I did her in myself?”

“Because you’re…crazier than the Mad Maid of Kent?”

“Nah, I’m not crazy. Just insanely handsome.” He gives me a leering grin, and I manage to stifle the urge to gag.

“I hear Sarah was stealing stuff from King Henry,” he continues.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Word gets around.” He leans forward. “Get this. Apparently, Friday night she sent Geoffrey a text saying that she had some sort of family emergency, but it turns out she didn’t.”

“She didn’t?”

“Well, obviously the killer sent the text since she was clearly lying dead somewhere in the castle. Which is where it gets truly sinister.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, I heard the police checked her cell phone records and guess where she was when she supposedly sent that text message?”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. Inside. The castle.”

“Seriously?” I don’t know what any of this means, but the feeling of dread I’d managed to stifle after finding Sarah’s body is now working overtime.

“Seriously. And then it’s like she just disappeared.” He splays his hands out. “Poof.”

“Tell me about it. How do you know all this stuff, anyway?” If what he’s saying is true, I can’t help wondering why the police didn’t bother sharing it with me.

“My girlfriend’s mom works in dispatch for the Lunevale Police Department. And you know what else?”

“What?” I lean forward in my chair.

“The guy who built this place, Mr. Lune, was apparently a total whack-job. Like, he built a bunch of secret rooms and an underground torture chamber and stuff. What if Sarah’s still alive and she’s trapped in the underground torture chamber?”

I lean back. Sarah is most definitely
not
still alive. “Then why wouldn’t she just call someone on her cell phone?”

Jared looks disappointed. “Oh, yeah. Good point. Listen, babe. I’ve got to get back to the steeds. You going to eat that last carrot?”

“Yes. I am,” I say, curling my arm protectively around my plate.

“You know,” Jared says, looking at me thoughtfully, “you’re pretty hot for a nun.”

“Ew. Just take the carrot.” I push the plate toward him. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Thanks, babe.” He grabs the carrot, gives me a wink, and takes off.