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Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim

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BOOK: Wicked Weaves
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“You got it. We ran out of bandages.”
“No wonder! It must’ve taken a few to put on that poor man’s throat you found over there. Having one’s throat cut is a bad and messy affair.”
“Actually, he was strangled. His throat wasn’t cut. We didn’t need any bandages for him. He was already dead when we found him.”
Merlin nodded and swept around the shop. “I have a potion for that. It can bring the dead back to life. At least temporarily. It was used by King Arthur to find out who killed one of his knights from the Round Table. It was deemed too dangerous to use after that and hidden away until I found it.”
“Thanks.” I was beginning to regret coming in here after all. “I think we may be too late for that. It was a good idea, but the police have the body, and there’s already been an autopsy.”
He rubbed his hands together, mindful of his wand. “And what did they find?”
I shrugged. “That he was strangled to death.”
“Is that all?”
“No. They also found out he was drunk.”
Merlin laughed and swished his robe around. I hoped I wasn’t about to be a victim of flashing. “Now
that’s
another story. Around here,
not
being drunk would be unusual.”
“Except that he never drank alcohol.”
“Let me think about that. You go get your bandages and come back. Although to stay in character, you should just tie a rag around the cut. I suppose in your case, you wouldn’t be able to move your hands for all the rags on them. Oh well.”
I walked past the stuffed, dead birds, trying not to touch them. The jars full of bugs and worms only creeped me out, but the dead birds could’ve had diseases. The shop was a compendium of everything weird; exactly what you’d expect from a wizard’s apothecary. I guess that’s why I liked it and hated it at the same time.
The first aid station was manned by Wanda LeFay, the nurse. In all the years I’d known her, she’d never told anyone where she was from or anything about her past life. I wasn’t sure how she got to be a nurse, since she didn’t enjoy human contact. No one went to her first aid station unless they had no choice, like me running out of bandages.
Wanda was patching up Rafe, the pirate, who looked like he’d had a run-in with a canon. The pirates, including the pirate queen, did a show twice a day and an extra one during the King’s Feast. They were a rowdy group who seemed to have a good time as they pillaged and plundered, even though they could never take over the castle.
“Sit down,” Wanda said when she saw me. “I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”
“Oww!” Rafe protested her ungentle ministrations. “You don’t have to pull that so tight. I won’t have any circulation to the rest of my arm.”
“Better that than your arm falling off.” She made the bandage even tighter. “You all better take it easy up there. You’re the third pirate I’ve seen today. I’d hate to have to report you for being too careless. This
is
a job site, you know.”
Rafe laughed, showing fake gold teeth. He pushed back his long, black wig and moved his arm away from Wanda. “I’d like to see OSHA come in here and try to deal with everything that goes on. They’d go crazy the first day.”
Wanda jerked Rafe’s arm back and finished her bandage. “Maybe so, but if I were you, I’d pass the word along. No more than one pirate per day at this first-aid station. That’s the rule.”
“I’ll pass that on.” He stood up, adjusted his scabbard and doublet and swaggered my way. “Hey there, Jessie! Heard you found some dead guy. I hope you covered your tracks, my lovely.”
“It’s not a joke.” I wasn’t in the mood to be amused by his playacting. “He was really Mary’s husband.”
He smiled and curled his mustache. “Is that Mary, Mary Quite Contrary or Mary Had a Little Lamb?”
“Go away. Go plunder something.”
He growled at me. The pirates take themselves
way
too seriously. “I’d love to plunder
your
castle sometime, sweetie.”
“Like
that’s
going to happen.” I got up and walked past him toward Wanda, and he barked at me. I ignored him. Rafe and I had a thing once. It didn’t even last the whole summer. The guy was a whack job. I think he really thought he was a pirate.
Wanda who, by the way, had a lovely,
real
British accent, one of the few in the Village, changed her sterile gloves, then lit up a cigarette. I wasn’t sure if my lungs or my finger felt more assaulted by her lack of hygiene. “So, what’s wrong with you this morning, ducks?”
“I just need a bandage.” I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to touch me, but I knew better. Blanket statements like that drove Wanda into a doctorlike frenzy. I didn’t feel like having brain surgery that day.
“I’m the nurse. I’ll be the judge of what you need. Let me see that hand.”
Wanda looked at me with her cold blue eyes that reminded me of fish eyes. They weren’t on either side of her head, but there was something creepy and fishlike about them. She put out her hand for mine, and I started to give it to her. Then she blew a puff of smoke in my face, and I changed my mind.
“You know, the surgeon general thinks those things are bad for you.” I wondered if I could reach the box of bandages sitting on the shelf without her crippling or harming me in some way. “I really only need a little bandage, Wanda.
Really.
I just cut my finger on some palm, like usual. A bandage will keep the blood off my basket. We don’t have to make a major production over this.”
That was a mistake. Wanda grabbed my hand. I sat down in the chair; it was either that or fall on the floor. “I think I see a piece of foreign matter in this cut. We should explore it.”
“I’d rather have leeches put on me. Thanks anyway. May I
please
have a bandage?”
Wanda wasn’t budging. Obviously she was bored. Her cold fish eyes stared at me, and I shivered. It was either get a bandage myself or die trying. The last time she’d decided to explore one of my cuts, I had to have three stitches at the hospital the next day. No way was I going through that again.
I acted like I was going to give her my hand, then made the dive for the bandages. Wanda tried to stop me, but her block came an instant too late. I grabbed the box; a handful of bandages came out and scattered around us like brown butterflies.
The look on Wanda’s face was terrible. She yelled, “No!” and dropped to catch them before they could hit the wood floor. I doubted that she cared if they got dirty. It was probably more that she’d have to buy more bandages.
In the meantime, I’d grabbed at least ten bandages and stuffed them into the pocket of my troubadour’s outfit, the bells jingling as I moved. I looked back at her with a feeling of triumph. I knew I’d pay for it some other day, but today I was victorious. That was enough for me.
“Jessie, I heard about Mary’s husband.” Wanda’s voice was bordering on the maniacal. Or at least it seemed that way to me. “Ask her about Lord Simon. This isn’t the first time a man in Mary’s life has died mysteriously.”
I didn’t waste any time getting out of there. You know how the good guy always goes back to check and see if the bad guy is really dead? That’s when the bad guy always jumps up and pounds the good guy a few more times before he dies. That’s what I was afraid of with Wanda. If I hesitated, I would lose. I just got the heck out of there. Whatever crazy stuff she had to say about Mary didn’t matter to me.
I was kind of pleased with myself; the bandages were in my pocket, and Wanda’s cursing was at my back. It was a successful trip to the first aid station. Hopefully it wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.
Merlin jumped out in front of me, purple robe flying. I closed my eyes, hoping I wouldn’t see anything that might put me off men for the rest of my life. This might be what the fairies were talking about. It wasn’t so much that Merlin purposely flashed them as that someone needed to make the old wizard wear boxers.
“I know what I was going to tell you before you went back there with Nurse LeFay.” He whirled around a few more times and waved his wand.
I’d had about enough crazy stuff for that hour. I was ready to go back to Wicked Weaves and stick my hand with a palm leaf a few more times. Mary was obscure, and sometimes she worked me too hard, but at least she wasn’t completely insane. Some people in the Village, like Merlin and Wanda, got a little worse every year.
“All right. Tell me. I have to get back to Wicked Weaves.”
“A funnel.” He pulled a brown funnel out of the air like, well, like magic. “During the Inquisition, it was a common torture to use a funnel to drown someone by pouring water down their throat.”
“Lovely.” I located the door behind him and wondered if I could dash around him without touching any of the dead birds.
“You see?” He held the funnel up near his mouth. “Anyone could use something like this to force someone to take in alcohol or any other liquid. They’d have to be subdued, of course.”
“Of course.” I didn’t want to know where he was going with this.
“Mary purchased one of my finest leather funnels several months ago. It was February.” His feathery white brows knit together. “Or was it March? It was definitely before May.”
“I’m sure she had a good reason to buy a funnel.”
“I’m sure she did.” He did a little jig of some sort. I’m not totally clear on what a jig actually is, but it’s the best way to describe the dance he did. “Amazing that she would have opportunity to use the funnel, eh?”
I thanked him for telling me about the funnel, then ran out of the Apothecary and smack into Chase. “Hey! I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said.
“Merlin thinks Mary used an Inquisition funnel to murder Joshua.” I couldn’t help it. The weirdness took me over and forced me to say these things. “He and Wanda both think Mary killed Joshua. And who is Lord Simon?”
Eight
“Slow down and tell me what you’re talking about,” Chase encouraged.
I took a deep breath and repeated everything Wanda and Merlin had said to me. “That means Merlin thinks Mary used the funnel she got from him to pour liquor into Joshua, and Wanda says it’s happened before with some guy called Lord Simon. Do you know anything about that?”
“It must’ve been before my time as bailiff. Back when I was jousting and chasing elephants, I didn’t know much that went on around here.”
I laughed when I remembered that time Chase was herding goats around the Village. “No wonder! It was all you could do to keep up with the animals.”
“Especially the large ones. That time the camel stepped on my foot, I thought I was going to lose my toes.”
We’d gotten off track for a minute, but I felt less tense. “Everything is going against her, Chase. If the police talk to Merlin or Wanda or anyone except you and me, she could end up going to prison. We both know she’s not guilty. She’s a little weird and bossy, but you should see the look in her eyes when she talks about Joshua. And did you know they had a son together?”
“No. I’ve never heard that. Did Mary tell you?”
“Yeah. She hasn’t seen him in twenty years. He could be here in the Village right now, and she wouldn’t know him. Life has pushed her around a lot. We can’t let it push her any more.”
“That’s poetic, Jessie, but do you have any idea on how we start proving Mary is innocent?”
“I think I do. We have to see Ham the blacksmith. I think he may have some answers.”
“I’ve got about an hour until my next court appearance and tour of the dungeon. Maybe we could squeeze it in now.”
I hugged him, and he kissed me. We were almost side-tracked again. An hour is plenty of time for a
lot
of things. But we decided to put those off and talk to Ham.
The blacksmith shop was wedged between the jousting arena, the privies, and the Caravan Stage, where the new belly dancers were. It made sense to have him near the field and the stables. I’m not sure why the belly dancers were so close. It seemed like it would’ve been better to have the archery board or the hatchet throwing close by. But nothing made sense all the time. I suppose Renaissance Faire Village did the best it could, especially with its otherworldly atmosphere.
We walked past William Shakespeare, who was composing a sonnet on the color of one of the fairy’s wings. Mother Goose was telling nursery rhymes as she stroked the pure white feathers on her bird. Galileo was showing his experiments to a group of campers from a day school. There was always something going on.
Shakespeare called out to Chase as we went by. “Bailiff, where goest thou?”
“To the blacksmith,” Chase answered. “What doest thou, Sir Shakespeare?”
“I believe I am attempting to woo yon fairy, Sir Bailiff.” Shakespeare, aka Pat Snyder, grinned almost as wide as the starched white ruff around his neck.
“Carry on, Sir Shakespeare.” Chase waved to the rutting playwright.
“What is it about those fairies?” I kept walking fast, trying to ignore both men looking at the pretty fairy’s almost-transparent dress. “I think they should make them wear velvet or linen or maybe a nice wool like the rest of us.”
BOOK: Wicked Weaves
2.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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