Wicked Weaves (12 page)
Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim
Chase caught up with me and casually draped his arm around my shoulders. “Methinks thou dost not appreciate the female fairies.”
“Think you?” I shrugged off his arm. “I canst imagine why.”
He stopped and pulled me off my feet. “Thinkest thou I do enjoy fairies more than you, my fine troubadour?” He jiggled me a little until the bells on my costume were ringing.
“Put me down, knavish oaf!”
“Methinks you should make reparations for impugning my honor, wench.”
“Put me down, and I will impugn you no longer, sir.”
It was only then I realized we’d drawn a crowd. Cameras started flashing, and children started asking their parents what we were talking about. Queen Olivia went by with her procession of ladies-in-waiting. Her look said we’d better cut it out. No one was allowed to interrupt Livy and her adoring crowd during her hourly stroll through the Village.
Chase put me down, put his arm around me, and we walked away.
“Forsooth,” Shakespeare exclaimed behind us, “the troubadour and the bailiff make an unusual couple. What say you, beautiful fairy?”
Thankfully, I didn’t have to hear what the fairy said. I forgave Chase. After all, if there were any boy fairies, and they wore next to nothing, I’d be looking at them, too. I suppose there’s some rhyme in that reason.
We reached the blacksmith’s forge a few minutes later. Little Bo Peep was chasing her sheep, but the Big Bad Wolf had stepped in to help her. They were on the outs right now, so it was good of the wolf. He and Bo Peep had been together for a while. I hated that they broke up. Maybe the lost sheep would get them back together.
Chase called out for Ham, which was short for Hammer; no one seemed to know his real name. We didn’t see him at his usual spot by the forge. His tools were there, along with a horseshoe he was working on. “It’s me, Ham. I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t see him.” I looked around the small smithy. There was no sign of Ham, which was unusual, because the hot coals were ready to soften the iron. “He doesn’t just leave like this.”
Chase looked back where the horses were kept when they were waiting to be shod. “He’s not back here, either. Ham? Where are you?”
I heard a groaning sound and moved some hay out of the way. Ham was underneath it, nursing a bump on the head.
We dragged him out of the smithy, and Chase called the paramedics. I sat with Ham, who seemed disoriented but otherwise okay.
“What happened?” I asked him. “Did you fall?”
“No. Someone sneaked up behind me and hit me in the head.” He turned so I could examine his scalp beneath the thin black fuzz on his head. “I didn’t see who it was, but whoever is gonna be sorry when I catch up with him.”
Inspired, I ventured, “Could it have been Abraham?”
“Abraham?” Ham stared at me. “I don’t know anyone named Abraham except for the piper’s son who keeps stealing that stupid pig.”
“No. I mean Abraham, Joshua’s brother.”
“Is he here?” Ham looked around. “Does Mary know?”
“Yes. He’s here. He talked to her before we found Joshua. He was threatening her, I think. He told her Jah is still alive.”
He shook his head and groaned. “I ain’t seen Abraham, Joshua, nor Jah for so long, I’m not sure I’d know them to see them. What’s this about Mary killing Joshua?”
“It’s not true. That’s why we’re here. We thought you might be able to help us.”
“She never tells me anything. I wouldn’t know if she killed all three of them and hid them in the back of that shop. That’s the way she is. That woman wouldn’t open her mouth to tell her secrets if death was standing in front of her wanting to know.”
This was getting me nowhere. Ham was almost as bad as Merlin and Wanda. Of course, someone
had
hit him in the head. Could it be the same person who killed Joshua? Maybe this time, he wasn’t able to finish the job for some reason. Maybe he was about to pour liquor down Ham’s throat, then strangle him.
had
hit him in the head. Could it be the same person who killed Joshua? Maybe this time, he wasn’t able to finish the job for some reason. Maybe he was about to pour liquor down Ham’s throat, then strangle him.
I looked around the smithy for any sign of what had happened. “Where were you when you were attacked?”
“I was standing at the forge, like always. I bent over to pick up a horseshoe, and something came down hard on my head. Next thing I know, you and Chase were dragging me out of the hay.”
Chase and the paramedics stopped my interrogation. They took Ham away to have his head X-rayed. I kept looking through the straw while they hooked Ham up to an IV and called the ambulance.
“What are you looking for?” Chase asked when the paramedics were gone. A small crowd had gathered around the smithy, waiting for any other excitement that might happen.
“I’m looking for clues. Who do you think did this?” I glanced at the curious onlookers. “You’re the bailiff. Shouldn’t you do crowd control?”
He went to shoo away the people and keep the foot traffic moving. I continued to search through the hay, hoping Ham’s attacker might have left something behind. I started sneezing and finally had to give up, sitting back against the wall and blowing my nose.
“They don’t call it hay fever for nothing.” He sat beside me. “Any luck?”
“No. I guess it was too much to hope for.” I told him my theory about Ham. “We might’ve saved his life by coming to look for him.”
“Why would someone want to kill Ham?”
“Maybe for the same reason they killed Joshua.”
“You two interested in what happened to the blacksmith?”
We looked up and saw one of Robin Hood’s Merry Men. He was totally dressed in forest green from his slippers and tights to his tunic and mantle. He wore a pointy hat and had a bow slung across his shoulder.
“Is that you, Alex?” I got to my feet and dusted off my costume.
“Jessie? I didn’t recognize you in that getup. I didn’t know if you were here this summer.”
I walked toward him at the same time he came toward me. I put up my arms to hug him, and he unexpectedly kissed me. Alex and I had a history. It was only one summer when I was just a kid. But he was still a good kisser.
Chase cleared his throat. I stepped back, and Alex grinned. “Same old Jessie. It’s good to see you.”
I did the introductions quickly. Chase kind of knew Alex anyway. He wasn’t looking very friendly, and they didn’t shake hands.
“What can you tell me about what happened to Ham?” Despite the sudden tension in the smithy, I still wanted answers.
“I saw some guy in here a little while ago when I was going by to see my wife. She’s one of the belly dancers.”
“Really? I didn’t know you were married.”
“Who’d guess?” Chase mumbled.
“Yeah. Her name is Sally. She’s an English professor at Auburn. She loves to come out here for the summer.” Alex smiled without looking like he felt guilty at all for kissing me, despite the fact that he was married.
“So what exactly did you see, Alex?” Chase kept the conversation going away from the personal stuff.
“There was a tall dude here.” Alex looked at me. “He was wearing one of those hooded monk costumes. I don’t know if he was from the bakery or what.”
I should explain that the name of the baked goods shop is the Monastery Bakery, and all the people who work there dress like monks. They even made a CD of their chanting a few years ago. “And you saw him here with Ham?”
“Not exactly. Ham was working at the forge, and the monk dude was behind him. I didn’t think anything about it until I heard Ham got hit in the head. Now I think the monk might’ve done it.”
“Okay. Thanks for your input.” Chase was using his crowd control voice. “We’ll send a page if we need you. Now move along.”
“Maybe we could have some coffee or dinner.” Alex smiled at me and ignored Chase.
“What did you say your
wife’s
name was again?” I smiled back, but there was no way I was going to do anything with Alex, even if I hadn’t already been mostly committed to Chase. At least for the summer.
wife’s
name was again?” I smiled back, but there was no way I was going to do anything with Alex, even if I hadn’t already been mostly committed to Chase. At least for the summer.
“I think we need to go now.” Chase took my arm and nodded to Alex. “See you around.”
“Don’t be so jealous,” I whispered as he hustled me away from Alex.
“I should be happy you kissed him like a long-lost lover?”
“He is kind of a long-lost lover. I didn’t know he was married.”
“That makes all the difference. In the meantime, during the ten-minute lip-lock, here’s good old Chase watching and waiting.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like then? I was there, but it kind of left me in the cold.”
I stopped, grabbed him by his handsome but incredibly thick head, and kissed him. “It was in the past. That’s what it was like. Now can we focus on helping Mary?”
He put his arms around me and kissed me again. “You mean by finding the monk, finding the missing guy who might’ve killed the dead guy, and maybe the son that no one knew about?”
“That’s exactly it.”
He kissed me again, this time longer and with more feeling. “I only have about thirty minutes before Bailiff’s Court. I don’t know if we have time to do all that. But the dungeon is only a two-minute walk. We could go there instead.”
I was tempted. That last kiss had me tingling all over. But I was resolute, and Chase’s radio went off again. It was a conspiracy to keep us apart.
“I have to go.” He kissed me again. “This may take a while, and I’ll have to clean up the vegetables after court. Do you want to have dinner tonight?”
“You know I do.”
“I’ll pick you up a little after five.” He smiled at me and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll be waiting.” He started to walk away, and I grabbed his hand. “You know Alex doesn’t hold a candle to you, right?”
“I know. Just wondering if
you
knew. See you later.”
you
knew. See you later.”
I wasn’t sure how Chase could be jealous of anyone, but I’m sure even someone who looks like him can have inferiority issues. I managed to walk all the way back to Wicked Weaves before I realized I’d meant to swing by the Monastery Bakery. I guess that’s what they call having your head in the clouds.
Mary was back, and the shop was open. The police were gone, but a few reporters were still hanging out. Customers were jammed in the shop, wanting to buy baskets and gossip. I put on my apron and helped Mary sell some baskets.
By the time the rush of customers was over, I was sweating and thirsty. I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge hidden behind a panel in the wall. Every shop had places they hid their modern conveniences, except for the cash registers. They kept those out front. They were merchants, after all.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming back,” Mary scolded, a bead of perspiration on her upper lip. “Were you out chasing that boy again? I tell you to leave him alone. You ain’t his mama.”
“No, I was doing a different kind of chasing.” I smiled, thinking about Chase.
Mary laughed. “I know that smile. You found a
real
man to spend some time with, didn’t you? That’s good. A girl your age should be with a young man. Did I ever tell you about the first boy I ever kissed?”
real
man to spend some time with, didn’t you? That’s good. A girl your age should be with a young man. Did I ever tell you about the first boy I ever kissed?”
Have I mentioned that Mary’s second passion after basket weaving is storytelling? I read online that Gullahs are master storytellers. They weren’t kidding.
Mary lit up her pipe and grabbed the basket she’d been working on, and we went out to sit on the back steps and weave. “Mind that knot. It won’t hold if it’s sagging. You have to make it strong. Don’t forget, everything rests on each coil of the basket supporting the next coil.”
I listened to her talk about a young boy who’d taken her fishing and managed to share her first kiss. I watched her hands for a while before I started on my own weaving. Her voice continued, singsong, in the background of my thoughts while I threaded the old end of the palm through the next coil and cut the leftover grass. I coiled and stitched and added until I had the sides of my basket several inches tall. I tied a new slipknot and got ready to start the next coil.
“Why, Jessie, child, you got the hang of it! Look at you! Not even a drop of blood, either. You gonna be weaving baskets for sale soon enough.”
I was pleased with her praise. I admit it; I’m an overachiever. I like it when people tell me I’ve done a good job and I can see I’m working at an above-average level. We were actually bonding for a change instead of arguing.
I thought this might be a good time to tackle Mary for more information. I couldn’t help her if she didn’t tell me everything I needed to know. “Did you hear what happened to Ham today?”
“Ham?” She turned her head, and her fast, brown fingers stopped flying through her basket. “Oh, you mean my brother, Mvuluki.”
“Is that his real name? No wonder he never uses it.”
“It means
rememberer
in our language. It’s a beautiful name.”
rememberer
in our language. It’s a beautiful name.”
I didn’t want to comment on a name I wasn’t sure I could pronounce. “I was going to talk to him about Joshua, but someone attacked him while he was working on a horseshoe.”
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