Wicked Weaves (20 page)
Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim
A handful of diehard souls were gathered around the wooden bar that Hephaestus, the owner of Peasant’s Pub, claimed came from a real seventeenth-century pub in England. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a big chest that was almost hidden by his huge gray brown beard.
“Come on in, Jessie!” he yelled when he saw me. “First tankard’s on the house for that exhibit at the castle tonight.”
The other people, mostly fools, knaves, and varlets, all of whom I knew, cheered and agreed with him. I knew I was with my people as I sat down at the bar. “Thanks, guys. Is it just me, or does this place get weirder and weirder?”
They all laughed, then pretty much ignored me. I was hot for all of five seconds. Oh well. I guess that was better than not being hot at all.
“What’s up with you and Chase this year?” Hephaestus habitually wiped his questionably clean rag across the surface of the bar.
“What do you mean?” I tried not to sound defensive. “We’ve been friends for years.”
A couple of fools laughed. Hephaestus laughed with them. “Come on, honey. We all know you have a summertime thing here. We’re taking bets on it being Chase. We’re all friends at the Village. Are you shacking up with the bailiff this summer?”
This was the height of boredom. Taking bets on my relatively dull life was like racing cockroaches. “That’s none of your business.”
“We could ask Chase,” one of the varlets said, “
if
we could find him. He looked like he wanted to stay lost with the princess when they left the castle together after the feast.”
if
we could find him. He looked like he wanted to stay lost with the princess when they left the castle together after the feast.”
I slogged down my ale, then got up and walked out of the pub. I was wrong. Fools, varlets, and knaves don’t make the best company. I needed to be alone, even if a werewolf tore my throat out before I got back to my hut.
Humming a song I couldn’t remember the words to, I kept walking past the dark alleys and shuttered businesses that lined the street. I clutched my basket in my hand. It wasn’t much as far as a weapon if someone or something jumped out of the dark at me. Of course, it was enough to kill Joshua. But then he was too drunk to care.
It occurred to me that whoever attacked Ham might’ve had the same plans for him. Did it look like I was involved in whatever was going on? I hoped not. I was only an observer. But it made me nervous thinking about it after I’d had that drink at the pub. What if Abraham or Jah, whichever of them was responsible, thought I was drunk and an easy target? Was there some way to let them know besides walking in a straight line that I wouldn’t be as easy to kill as Joshua?
My hut finally came into view. It was a welcome sight. The key was in my hand when a large form stepped out of the shadows toward me. I dropped into what I hoped looked like a karate stance I’d seen in a movie. “I’m not drunk! You might be able to kill me, but I’ll take a piece of you with me.”
“Easy, killer!” Chase laughed. “I think you must be drunk, if you think anyone is going to be scared by that pose.”
I relaxed, thankful it was only him. Then I got mad. “Go home, Chase. Except for me telling you this, I’m not speaking to you.”
“You’re jealous of me kissing Isabel!”
“I am not.”
“Yes you are. Admit it.”
I had already put the key in the lock, but I couldn’t let him leave thinking I cared about what he did with the princess. “I’m not jealous. I don’t care what you do or who you do it with. I don’t have any hold on you. You’re free to go your own way, just like I am.”
“That’s right. That’s who you are, Jessie; the summertime girl. You love’ em over the summer then go on your way before fall. Everyone knows that.”
“I don’t want any involvements to impede my life.” As I said it, I thought about what it sounded like and rushed to correct it. “I mean, I know what happens here isn’t real.”
“Just because it’s Renaissance Faire Village doesn’t mean the people who live here aren’t real. They get angry and get their hearts broken just like they do in Columbia or anywhere else. You just think you can come here and play around and no one will know. Then you go back to the university and live your life without ever feeling anything.”
I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t true, but I knew he was right. I didn’t have romantic relationships at the university. I knew I was coming back here, and the summer with some knight or lord would be enough. And it wasn’t real.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned against the side of the hut, his face in the shadows.
“No. That’s okay. You’re right in some ways.” I sighed. “I was jealous of Isabel. I don’t know why.”
He moved closer to me. “Maybe because
we’re
real, Jessie. And what’s happening between us is real.”
we’re
real, Jessie. And what’s happening between us is real.”
Something inside of me wanted it to be real. I felt like the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes as he stood on Mt. Crumpit. I put my arms around Chase and closed my eyes as I laid my head on his chest. He pulled me closer, and the shadows didn’t seem so bad with the two of us.
“My feelings for you are real,” Chase whispered. “I hope you feel the same about me.”
I was about to assure him that he was more than a summer fling for me when a loud scream pierced the streets of Renaissance Faire Village.
Fourteen
The screams were coming from Bawdy Betty’s Bagels, which was located between my hut and the Peasant’s Pub. Chase and I ran down there, the bells on my costume giving me away. He glanced at me, and I shrugged. There wasn’t much I could do about the bells. I couldn’t wait to get my new costume tomorrow. The troubadour outfit may have been lighter, but I’d be happy to have my linen back. At least it was quiet.
Bawdy Betty was doing the screaming. When she saw Chase, she ran up and threw herself into his arms. I wondered if I’d ever get used to women throwing themselves at him. It was annoying to be jealous, especially since Chase was aware of it.
“Did you see that?” She sobbed into his shirt. “There was someone skulking around down here. He was wearing one of those weird monk costumes. I was taking out the trash, and there he was. It looked like he was trying to get through the Village without being seen. It was horrible. I don’t think he had a face. All I could see was darkness inside the hood.”
With that terrifying statement, Betty collapsed on Chase, one arm across her eyes as her knees went weak. I wanted to suggest that he drop her. I thought she’d get to her feet quickly enough. The woman was monopolizing my man.
“Call the paramedics.” Chase looked back at me. “While you’re at it, call the police. We have to get to the bottom of this monk thing before the Brotherhood turns ugly.”
I reached for my cell phone, which wasn’t there. Betty revived enough to tell us we could use the phone in her shop. “There’s no need to call the paramedics. I’ll be fine.” She squeezed Chase’s arms with her greedy little hands and gazed up into his face. “Although I may need someone to carry me inside. I don’t know if I can walk.”
I’d trained with the campus fire and rescue squad in my freshman year. I only mention it because what I did might seem extraordinary otherwise, but a fireman can lift a person twice his weight using the cradle.
And that’s exactly what I did. Betty closed her eyes and pretended to faint again. I grabbed one of her arms and hoisted her on my shoulders. She wasn’t a lightweight, especially in her full-length gown and undergarments, but I managed. I took the back stairs into the bagel shop, glancing down when Chase didn’t follow me. “I’ll take care of her. You call the police.”
Betty opened one heavily made-up eye as I took her to her bedroom. “What’s this? This isn’t right. Have you got a thing for me?”
“No. You said you couldn’t walk. I’m helping you.” I shifted her weight.
“I only said it to get some attention from that lovely boy.” Betty shivered and smiled.
I dropped her on her bed, watching her bounce with some kind of fiendish delight. “You’re old enough to be his mother, Betty. Why not pick on Roger Trent?”
“Not my type!” She looked up at me from the bed. “Is that how it is with you, sweetie? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were set on the bailiff this year.”
I took a deep breath, about to admit my darkest secret to Bawdy Betty. “Now you know.” It was a relief to confide in someone. I felt much better as I went back downstairs.
Chase was still on the phone with the police department. I sat down on one of the tall stools at the bagel bar and watched him. I thought,
Mine, all mine,
a few times. The whole possessive thing was a little new to me, but I thought I could get used to it. Chase was a prize. I was amazed I’d never really understood before. I guess I was so busy comparing him to Tony that I didn’t see they were nothing alike.
Mine, all mine,
a few times. The whole possessive thing was a little new to me, but I thought I could get used to it. Chase was a prize. I was amazed I’d never really understood before. I guess I was so busy comparing him to Tony that I didn’t see they were nothing alike.
“Someone’s on their way out.” He hung up the phone. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a big steak on a stick, and you’ve got plenty of Worcestershire sauce.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I licked my lips.
“I’m not complaining. Although now might not be a good time.”
“It takes them a good forty-five minutes to get here, even with a dead body.” I studied his muscled legs in brown tights.
He thought about it, but not too long. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
The police were pulling in as Chase and I ran back from the big swan swing. It was shaped like a swan with a large open space in the middle that could easily hold five or six kids, or one or two adults. It was scary and exciting being out in the open like that, even though it was the middle of the night.
I realized Chase had his tunic on backwards and we changed it quickly before anyone saw it. It was an easy thing to do because the tunic wasn’t much more than a big T-shirt without sleeves.
Chase smiled and kissed me as he handed me one of the bells that had come off my costume. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”
I agreed, then tried to get my love-hazy brain operating again. I didn’t want to sound like a flake talking to the police. Someone’s life could be at stake.
It wasn’t Detective Almond but an officer who was looking around Bawdy Betty’s yard with a flashlight when we got there. “Bailiff?” He looked up.
Chase shook his hand. “That’s me. Thanks for coming out. We’ve got a problem out here.”
We sat down in Betty’s kitchen, and she made us all coffee while we discussed the situation with the officer. He nodded as he listened and ate a few bagels, then wiped his hands on a napkin. “Besides the assault you’re attributing to this robed figure, do you have any
real
evidence that one of the monks has gone wacko?”
real
evidence that one of the monks has gone wacko?”
I glanced at Chase. Had either one of us mentioned wacko monks? The Brotherhood wasn’t going to take kindly to being herded up and questioned. Fortunately, we wouldn’t have to do it. They could get together and try to intimidate the police with their late-night antics.
“Not really,” Chase admitted. “But there’s a man who isn’t a resident of the Village who might be involved in what happened with the murder and the assault.” He told the officer about Abraham.
“Can you describe him?” The officer took out a notebook and searched for a pen until Betty provided one with a large feather on it. Her smile was lascivious.
“He’s tall, thin.” I thought about it for a few seconds. “He’s got a long, thin face. He’s black, which may be why Betty thought the hooded figure didn’t have a face at all. When I first saw him, he was wearing spats.”
The officer raised his eyebrows and scratched his crew cut. “That’s something you don’t hear every day. Can you describe them?”
“You don’t know what spats are?” I tried not to sound too amazed.
“I can’t keep up with all the weird clothing you people wear out here.” He looked at my costume. “Like what do you call what you’re wearing? Are you the court jester or something?”
“I’m a troubadour, a singer who entertains royalty.”
“Whatever. Describe the spats, please.”
I described the shoes and Abraham’s old suit. I’d lost confidence in the officer to take care of the problem. I didn’t have a lot to begin with. He was so busy looking down Bawdy Betty’s bodice that he hardly had time to write. I thought if we put a bagel down her bodice, Chase and I could leave, and he’d never notice.
“Is that all?” he asked when he’d finished writing.
“As far as we know,” Chase answered. “Maybe you could station an officer down here for a few days. It’s a long drive out here to catch someone.”
The officer got to his feet and winked at Betty. “That’s where you come in, Mr. Bailiff. You’re a big, strong-looking boy. If you see this fella, take him into custody. Put him in your pretend jail, and then call us. We’ll take care of the rest.”
It was about what I’d expected. If Abraham had been tied to one of Betty’s chairs, the officer might’ve questioned him. He wasn’t going to expend any energy looking for someone who might or might not have committed a crime.
Chase thanked him for coming, and Betty gave him a bagel for the road. We left before Betty and the officer got sloppy by the car. There wasn’t much else to do.
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