Wicked Weaves (10 page)

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Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim

BOOK: Wicked Weaves
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“No! But I didn’t have to be with her to know she didn’t kill Joshua.”
“How? You barely know her. She’s been here a while, but she’s not like Trent or Daisy, where everyone knows all about them. Mary has always kept to herself. Are you really sure, like
jail time sure
, she wouldn’t kill anyone?”
I didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people leaving the Three Chocolatiers. I wanted some chocolate so much it made my eyes water. It had been a stressful day. The mocha at Sir Latte’s wasn’t enough. I needed the real thing, preferably in dark bar form.
“I’m sorry.” Chase apparently misunderstood my chocolate craving for a deeper emotion due to his guilt over questioning my loyalty to Mary (I minored in psychology). “I didn’t mean to badger you over your statement. If you stand by it, I’ll stand by you.”
This worked for me in more than one way. As he spoke, Chase swept me into his arms and pushed my nose into his chest. He smelled really good, like clean linen and fresh air. My chocolate craving was replaced by other feelings. Spending time with Chase was better than chocolate, and it didn’t make my face break out.
“Thanks.” I leaned closer to him and hoped he was feeling the same way. It wasn’t far to the dungeon. We could probably make it there and back in a few minutes. Okay, an hour with the time spent there. “Chase, I was thinking about what you said about going back to the dungeon.”
One of the few devices not from the Renaissance allowed on the streets of the Village by the people who worked there was a two-way radio issued to the bailiff, paramedics, and other emergency personnel. Chase’s radio went off at that moment. It was Jeff, the kid who was managing the stocks that summer. It seemed someone got a little too excited throwing fruit and vegetables at the poor sinner in the stocks.
“I’ll be right there.” Chase’s eyes said it all. He wanted to go to the dungeon with me. It was almost as good as going.
Almost.
“I’m sorry, Jessie. I have to go. I’m on duty again in ten minutes anyway. Rain check?”
Disappointment almost overwhelmed me. I hadn’t felt that bad about not getting to do something since Terry Tyler didn’t invite me to her birthday party when I was in fourth grade.
He raised his left eyebrow. It was a quirk of his that I found particularly attractive. I expected him to say something, but instead he leaned closer and kissed me. “I’ll see you later.”
I wanted to tell him he couldn’t just get cute with me, and everything would be all right. The best I could manage as he was walking away was, “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking.” It was lame; I knew it. But in my own defense, I was quite smitten with him, as we say in Renaissance Faire Village.
I trudged back to Wicked Weaves. The shop was empty, which was not surprising, considering all the police officers outside combing through the garbage and the privies. Mary was sitting on the back step, still working on the basket she’d started yesterday. If nothing else, I could tell she was upset by how long it was taking her to finish the basket. She normally would’ve had that one done already.
“There you are.” She glanced up at me. “I was wondering where you’d got off to. Not that it really matters, since no one is coming in the shop.”
“Detective Almond talked to me and Chase again. He found where he thinks Joshua was killed. He says Joshua was drunk and anyone, even
you
, could’ve killed him.”
“He does, does he?” Mary pulled the sweetgrass tight and started the next coil in her basket. “He doesn’t know much then. Joshua never took a drop of alcohol in his life. Whatever that detective says, he’s wrong.”
I picked up my basket and made a stitch to start a new coil. “Maybe you should tell him. If the autopsy showed Joshua was drunk, he was probably drunk. But maybe someone forced him to drink liquor.”
Mary spared a quick glance at me as she started quickly stitching her coils of sweetgrass on top of each other. “And you think I did it?”
“No. I didn’t say anything like that. Detective Almond just wants an easy arrest. I don’t think you killed your husband.”
“And why not? You think I couldn’t hate him enough after he cast me out? You think I couldn’t be angry enough after all these years alone?”
I hadn’t thought about it that way. I used my bone to guide a second strand of palm through the tightly wrapped sweetgrass. I was surprised when I didn’t poke my finger and bleed all over the basket. “I don’t know you all that well. But from what I know of you, I don’t think you’d kill anyone.”
“No? Not even if my husband kept me from my child all these years?”
Seven
I was shocked and horrified. And curious to know how something like that could happen. I didn’t want to sound nosy, but she did mention it. “That’s terrible. How did it happen?”
Mary kept her face close to her busy hands as the coarse black rush was added to the inside of her basket for strength. I knew she didn’t have to be that close to the weave and thought she might be crying.
“Joshua lied to me. I left our boy Jah with him. I was supposed to get to see Jah every so often. A few months after I left home, Joshua told me he died from the same thing that killed Abraham’s son. I grieved, but I went on. I never went back to see Joshua again.”
“Did Joshua tell you your son was still alive?”
“No. He didn’t say a word to me about Jah. All these years he let me think he was dead. He cut me off from my child. For that, I’d have words with him now if he wasn’t already dead. He had no right.”
My brain started racing along with my hands, weaving the sweetgrass and palmetto leaves back and forth with the strong vanilla smell of the grass surrounding me. “I wouldn’t say that too loud.” I looked around like the police were hiding behind the privies. “How do you know Jah is alive if you didn’t talk to Joshua?”
Mary took a balled-up piece of paper from her pocket. “Joshua left me a note. He told me about Jah and said he’d bring him to see me.”
I took the note from her and read the thick, coarse writing. “Where did you get this?”
“It was on the door the day Joshua died. I found it before Abraham got here.”
“Do you think Jah is here somewhere?”
“I asked Abraham about him.” She yanked the black rush through the basket with a rough hand. “He told me my boy was dead and that Joshua lied to me.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
“No. Joshua died to tell me my son was alive. How can I doubt his word?”
I sat back on the stairs in the sunshine, the little bells on my costume jingling to remind me that I wasn’t really on a coastal island living in another century. This was real and now. History was one thing; real life was much harder to understand. I wrote a 300-page paper once on Napoleon’s valet. At the time it seemed very real to me. I could immerse myself in other people’s lives and forget about my own. Right after that, my parents had died. Even history couldn’t get me through that without breaking down.
“What are you going to do?”
Mary shook her head. “I daren’t go anywhere until they find who killed Joshua or they will be sure it was me. But when I can, I’m going to find my son.”
“Do you think Joshua lied to him and told him
you
were dead, too?”
“I don’t know. But I want to see Jah so bad it aches inside of me. He was only a boy when I left. Now he’s a man. He had his father’s eyes and my mother’s disposition. He was all that was good in life. It was the hardest thing to leave him.”
“I don’t understand why you left. You could’ve sued for custody if you had to. You didn’t have to give up visitation.”
“You don’t understand our ways, Jessie.” She held out the basket she was working on so I could see it. “This is our heritage. Every year, some of it slips away. Someday it will all be lost. I don’t want to be part of that. I obeyed our laws when I left. But now I know I was cheated out of seeing my boy grow up.”
“You think Abraham had something to do with this?” I touched the bulrush that was a rich, tawny color in the sunlight. “You think that’s why Joshua came to tell you Jah was still alive?”
“Abraham adopted my son in place of his own who was lost. Joshua let him do this to make peace between the members of the family who believed I killed Abraham’s son. That’s why Joshua lied to me. He knew I wouldn’t let that happen.”
For a few moments, I could only stare at the intricate craft-work in the basket Mary held. It seemed poetic to me that I heard this tale sitting on the steps in Renaissance Faire Village. It was like a myth or folklore. It didn’t seem possible something of this sort could happen in the last twenty years.
I didn’t know what to say. If the police found out about Jah and about Joshua’s decision to let Abraham adopt him, that might be the motive that pushed the investigation forward, but in the wrong direction. I felt like I was the only thing keeping Mary out of prison. She might have motive, but the police couldn’t place her at the crime scene at the time Joshua was killed.
“Excuse me, ladies.” An officer came around the corner of the shop. “Mrs. Shift, Detective Almond would like a few words with you.”
Mary got to her feet and handed me the basket she was weaving. “Study that for a while. The most likely place for a basket to break is where it’s sewed together. Even though that black rush is strong, years and weather can make it soft.”
I knew there was a parable of some sort in her words. I worked at my basket for a few minutes longer, glancing at hers on the step beside me from time to time. Was she trying to tell me she was like the black rush; worn down by life but staying together by the strength of her will until she heard about her son still being alive? Or was she telling me she was soft compared to what she used to be?
I wasn’t sure, and it bothered me. She had abundant reasons to hate and kill Joshua, as far as I was concerned. I was also sure a jury would agree with me. If the police ever found out I wasn’t with her when Joshua was killed, they’d arrest her.
With that thought, I jabbed a sharp palmetto leaf into my finger. By grabbing a Sir Latte’s napkin I’d put in my pocket, I barely kept it from bleeding on my basket. I took both baskets inside the shop and washed the cut on my finger. Looking around for a bandage, I realized I’d used them all. Since there was still no one in the shop, I decided to close down for a while and go get some bandages from the first aid station in the back of Merlin’s Apothecary.
It was midday now, and that was the busiest time on the weekends. Thousands of people, knights, ladies, and sorcerers were roaming the streets of Renaissance Faire Village. The smells of baking bread, cinnamon rolls, turkey legs, and coffee all blended together to make even the most weight conscious person hungry.
I realized coffee with Chase had been a while before, and I was hungry, too. My Village cup was attached to my belt like everyone else who worked here. It meant you could get free drinks at the various pubs and cafés. Food was another matter. You either had to bring your own or pay for what you got.
Some of the eateries gave us discounts or even free day-old bread or pastries. But it was amazing how tired you could get of eating cinnamon rolls every day because they were twenty cents.
But, since my finger was bleeding through the napkin, Merlin’s Apothecary was first on my list. The guy who played Merlin was really named Merlin. I don’t know if he had a name change, but it was his legal name as well as his Village name. He was a crazy old dude who I think really believed he was a wizard. He was always casting spells on rude tourists or lazy Village workers.
He had the whole wizard look going on with a full white beard and long, straggly white hair. His pointy purple hat was etched with symbols of power. At least that’s what I thought they were. He wore a long purple robe that matched his hat. Some of the flower girls and fairies swore there was nothing under that robe. There had been rumors of him flashing a few unsuspecting females. But Chase had never caught him at it, and the girls had refused to press charges.
I liked the apothecary shop with its hundreds of colored bottles and powders. There were herbs in bulk form as well as drying from the rafters. The shop also sold candles, rubbing oil, some magic tricks, and a few wands. The smell of the drying herbs was always incredible when you first walked in. Then you had to face Horace, and that almost ruined everything.
Horace was a bull moose; or what was left of a bull moose. It was primarily a giant moose head that was situated right in front of the door. You had to walk around it to get in the apothecary. Tourists didn’t seem to mind. They actually had their pictures taken with the mangy old head. It kind of scared me. It was creepy; even creepier than Merlin.
Still, I went in that way when I could’ve gone into the first aid unit attached to the shop in back. I didn’t like looking at Horace’s lifeless glass eyes, but I liked the rest of the shop. I wished there was some craft that went on in the shop so I could apprentice there. But if there was a craft, I was probably better off not knowing about it.
“Come in, Jessie!” Merlin wasn’t swamped with visitors and saw me right away. “Let me guess; you sliced your finger on some kind of basket grass. Am I right?”

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