Gypsies, Traps & Missing Thieves

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Tell them the ghost story,” Eve said while bouncing on her toes like a six-year-old.

  Emilion lowered his voice. “Ms. Banter, you know we don’t advertise the ghost.”

  “Oh, come on, don’t be a stick in the mud.” Eve gave him a good slug in the arm. “Everyone in Bohemian Lake has heard the story. Geeze, the ghost tour features it every year.”

  Penny and Rebel both looked at each other; the look silently communicated that neither of them had heard the story before.

  Emilion sighed and rubbed his arm. “All right, I’ll speak to Madam. Perhaps she’ll share the story at dinner,” Emilion said. “I’m supposed to be plowing the driveway.”

  Eve shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere this evening but fine.” She waved her arm toward the window at the full-on winter storm that raged outside.

  Emilion cleared his throat, “Alright, well, why don’t you all get settled. I’ll be back in one moment with costumes for Mr. Bones and Ms. Trubble. Eve, Ms. Rouse your outfits are already laid out. Please meet downstairs at 4 p.m.

  5

  M allory glanced in the mirror at the top of the great staircase and adjusted the oversized red and grey scarf on her head. Her neckline was scandalous but the large chunky gold necklace covered much of her skin. Not to mention the huge dangling gold chandelier earrings. According to her script, she would play the role of the medium.

  A quarter of the way down, she heard whistles from below, which wasn’t all that surprising, considering that her white lace dress was cut almost to her navel. “You like?” She said, as she reached the bottom.

  “I love.” Danior replied. “How about me?” Danior spun, allowing her multi layered coin skirt to twirl and jingle about her.

  “Very bohemian, my dear Ms. Singer. I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered by the stereotypes of these costumes.”

  “I know, right?”

  Mallory glanced down the hall to her right. The pocket doors to the dining room were open and the sound of the violin drifted in. “Wow. Look at this place,” She said stepping forward. “They really did a fantastic job.” She’d asked the staff to string up lights according to Joelle’s suggestions, but they’d gone above and beyond, as usual.

  “Boss’ orders,” Danior murmured. “They wouldn’t dare slack off under your watch.”

  The dining room table was draped with a red-patterned cloth and topped with lace doilies and candelabras. Upside down umbrellas hung from the ceiling. The effect was both elegant and mysterious.

  Mallory looked over Danior’s head as Gloria, Denise, Michèle and Eve hurried toward them. Denise and Gloria were walking casually in front, while Michèle and Eve trailed behind, Michèle’s hand wrapped around her sister’s wrist, dragging her along.

  Breathing heavily, she came to a stop in front of the others. “I was afraid we were going to be late.” Michèle threw her sister an irritated glance before rolling her eyes. “We had some issues with Eve’s costume. Then we just had to stop at the vending machine to get her silly Pringles.”

  Eve was draped in an oversized black cloak that covered her from shoulder to mid-calf. She batted her very large false lashes and shoved a chip in her mouth. “What? I get tipsy on an empty stomach and my character never has an empty glass. I’m just preparing.”

  “Anyone bite the bullet yet?” Michèle asked as Harley, Lana and Vee joined them.

  “Not yet,” Vee said with a grimace, “I wonder who will be first.”

  “It’s not going to be me, and that’s a fact.” Eve wagged her finger at the group. “I have no intention of being alone with any of you.” She turned to her sister and eyed her suspiciously. “Especially you. I’ve seen the way you eye my snacks.”

  “Nobody wants your stinky cheddar Pringles.” Michèle said with a sigh. “You smell like old socks after you eat them, and maybe if you snacked less, we’d have less costume trouble.”

  Danior let out a giggle while Eve scowled. “Oh, please, a teenager would have trouble fitting into this corset. I can’t help it if my girls are large and in charge. You know, I’m actually quite svelte for a fifty-five-year-old woman, thank you very much.”

  Michèle rolled her eyes. “Fifty-five? Oh, I think the senility has finally kicked in. You’re missing a few years.”

  “Oh, hush!” Eve hissed.

  “Enough already, Eve. Let’s see this costume. The suspense is killing me,” Harley said.

  “Well, there you have it, folks,” Denise retorted. “The victim is Harley, and the murderer is suspense.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. You must be tonight’s comedian. So, tell us who you are, Eve. Given the corset and boots… I’m thinking the black widow or the salty socialite…”

  “Sexist much?” Gloria said with a frown as she straightened her press badge. “She does work at the Private Eye, you know. Perhaps she’ll play the hard-boiled detective.”

  Harley shook his head. “Detectives don’t usually wear false lashes and Gothic Steampunk boots.”

  Everyone’s gaze automatically travelled to Eve’s legs, which were squeezed into a pair of black mid-calf granny boots. The lace detailing was nice, but they cut Eve off at the worst part of her leg. Mallory grimaced, imagining what the rest of the costume might resemble.

  “You’ve got on witch boots and there’s a web hanging off your eye. Who the hell are you supposed to be, Winnie Sanderson or Spiderwoman?” Nana asked, coming to join them.

  “Why, now, Madam Murter, is that anyway to talk to your guest?” Mallory chided. Then she reached out and attempted to fix Eve’s false lash, which had come completely loose and now stuck to Mallory’s finger. “Oops.” Mallory said. “I think I have lash glue upstairs.”

  “Don’t worry about it, you sweet thing you. I got some right here.” Eve opened up her mammoth purse and began sorting through. “Can you hold these?” She asked, piling a Kleenex, a switchblade, a condom, a lipstick tube and a humongous key ring into Mallory’s other hand, one-by-one.

  “Good lord, Eve, what kind of party did you think you were coming to?” Nana asked, picking up and eyeballing the condom and then the switchblade.

  “One should always be prepared.”

  “For what? Never mind, I don’t even want to know.”

  “Good, then mind your business. Now, where is that glue?” Eve mumbled, pulling out a flashlight and then a skeleton key.

  “I told you the fake eye things were bad news. Just pull off the other one so you match and remove your damn blanket so everyone can take a gander,” Michèle demanded.

  “It’s a cloak!” Eve retorted, finding the glue at last.

  Harley snapped his fingers before pointing at Eve, “I’ve got it. You’re a contortionist, am I right? Are you naked under there? I am right, aren’t I?”

  Mallory glanced over at Harley’s wife to see if she was annoyed at his attentiveness to Eve, but she didn’t seem the least bit interested. Given, Eve was older than Harley by about twenty years, but still she was certainly attractive and Harley was definitely acting like he was interested.

  Michèle smiled. “My money’s on hooker.”

  “What money?” Eve retorted. “If you have money, you better pay me what you owe me.”

  Mallory spread a thin layer of glue on to the fake lash and re-attached it to Eve’s own lash line with ease. She pressed the lash to secure it but was momentarily distracted by an attractive man alone in the corner. Was that her mystery man?

  Eve snapped her fingers in front of Mallory’s nose. “Earth to Mal. You don’t have to glue it to my eyeball, dear.”

  “Oh, sorry, Eve!” Mallory said, letting go.

  Eve opened the wrap and placed a hand on the curve of her hip. “I’m Krystal Ball. Nana’s sister, the fortune teller of the carnival.” Sashaying about the room, she read a bit more. “Apparently, I have a penchant for martini’s, money, fortune telling and casting love spells on Nana’s men.”

  Danior pointed at the shee
t. “You were supposed to have that memorized.”

  “Bite me, square peg.”

  “Ooh, what does that even mean? Anyway, you smell like old socks.”

  Michèle roared and slapped Danior on the back. “I like this one.”

  “My goodness,” Harley said, looking Eve over, “Aren’t you cold?”

  “I know I am,” Mallory admitted, “but I turned up the heat.”

  Eve shook her head. “I’m fine, I tend to run hot.”

  Michèle snorted. “With flashes, maybe.”

  “You can bite me, too.”

  “In your dreams, stinky.”

  Mallory bit back a smirk. These two were practically in Nana’s league when it came to wise cracks. No wonder they were all the best of frenemies.

  Harley unbuttoned his embroidered blue jacket to reveal a bright green shirt and flamboyant neck scarf. “I’m Luigi Board, Madam Murter’s son, a famed occultist and heir to the family fortune.” Grinning, he placed an arm around his wife’s waist. “And this is my Swedish wife, Valerie Board. Apparently, I perform sideshows for the Carnival such as fire eating and throwing darts at my dear wife.”

  Lana raised one eyebrow at him. “You even so much as throw a dirty look at me with a dart in your hand and I’ll set you on fire.”

  “Ooh, save that attitude for the show, my dear.” Harley smirked and then settled his gaze on Vee. “Now, you are dressed much too sensibly to be a Carnival act. Let me guess, you’re the detective.”

  Unbuttoning the trench coat to reveal a pinstriped suit, Vee said, “Nope. Sorry to disappoint, I’m Madam Murter’s publicist and executor of her will.”

  “Oooh,” Harley said as he bounced up and down on his toes. “Can you tell us what’s in the will?”

  “I’m sorry, but I am not at liberty to discuss that,” Vee responded with mock severity.

  Michèle glanced over at Mallory and Danior. “What about you two?”

  “I’m Claire Voyant and this is the guest of honor, Lovey Singer,” Mallory said, indicating Danior with a nod of her head. She looked over at Michèle who was in a long kimono style robe. “How about you?”

  “I’m the Carnival love doctor and I’m also Madam Murter’s personal healer.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crystal necklace along with a pair of cat shaped eyeglasses with a beaded chain that looped around her ears and neck.

  “Wow!” Danior said. “Were those glasses in the costume room? They look so vintage.”

  Michèle stuck her chin out. “Who you calling vintage, honey? These are mine. I just need to read something.” She took the card from her purse, glanced at it and put it back away. “Dr. Bea Whare, is the name.”

  “Beware.” Danior nudged Mallory and grinned. “Now, that’s funny.”

  Mallory leaned in and whispered, “Have you seen my blind date, yet?”

  Danior nodded. “I think I overheard Nana and Eve whispering that he’s dressed as a magician.”

  6

  T he bulk of the group was ensconced in the formal dining room when Emilion led Penny in her matching tweed caplet and skirt—the female Dr. Watson to Kaden’s Sherlock, she presumed—and Rebel, the magician’s assistant to the doorway. The pocket doors were open, revealing the adjoining study and the flickering flames that roared in a huge ornate fireplace. From there, you could see through to the library. Dark reds and greens accented the deep leather couches and chairs placed about the room in conversational arrangements. Worn Persian rugs anchored the seating areas. Tarot cards covered the coffee table. Penny looked closer, curious to know just what dire predictions they held. Nana had evidently been using the pendulum, and it sat waiting in the middle of its yes-no cross.

  Men and women all varying in age mingled in one of the three adjoining rooms, some were holding wine glasses while other sipped from whisky tumblers and almost all of them were talking at once. Heavy red velvet curtains flanked a wall of windows showing large flakes settling on the trees.

  Eve’s loud “ahem” caught the interest of the group. They all turned in Penny and Rebel’s direction.

  Danior jumped up first, spilling droplets of wine as she did so.

  “Penny, Rebel, you’re here and, oh my goodness, you guys look great. We have clearly found our detective; everybody’s been wondering who it would be,” Danior said as she approached. “Let me guess, you are the magician’s assistant,” she said, grabbing Rebel’s hand and making her do a full twirl.

  Rebel’s cheek turned as red as the flower pinned to her bustier. “Barbara Cadabra, at your service.”

  “Wait a minute, Penelope Trubble. What in the heck are you even doing here?” Dani asked. “I thought you were hitting some exotic beach with that dashing detective of yours.”

  Penny frowned, thinking of the pina coladas and hot steamy moments she was now missing out on with Cody.

  Danior must have noticed the grimace. She clutched on to Penny’s arm, and her forehead crinkled in dismay. “Is everything okay? Nana’s cards warned that something terrible would happen this weekend...”

  “Everyone is fine. Eve asked me to give Rebel a ride. Apparently Nana told her that my flight would be canceled, which it was. One of Cody’s colleagues, Detective Bones, drove us but his tire is flat, so looks like we’re all spending the night.”

  Danior relaxed her grip on Penny’s arm, and a smile spread across her face. “That is seriously good news! Well, not about your flight but I’m happy you can join us now. So, where’s this Detective Bones fella? Lise was just saying how sparks flew when Mallory met some Kaden guy in the foyer. I guess that’s who she meant.” Danior leaned closer to Penny and lowered her voice. “Nana already set her up with a blind date here but two is better than one, right?”

  Penny laughed and whispered back. “Sounds like the odds are good… but I’m not sure where Kaden is. Maybe he’s lost. He wasn’t in his room so I assumed he was already down here.”

  “Mallory!” Danior motioned for her to come over.

  7

  M allory paused in her conversation with Nana’s quirky friends from Frontenac. “I’m sorry, ladies, I’ll be right back. The birthday girl beckons.”

  Mallory strolled across the room, “yes?”

  “Pen was just saying that she hasn’t seen that cop friend of hers. Guests can’t wander, right? We thought maybe you’d wanna go find him?”

  Mallory frowned as she watched Danior wink at Penny. “I know what you’re up to.”

  “Good. So, you’ll find him then?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. I just need a drink first.”

  “Me too,” Penny seconded.

  Danior pointed to the bar cart in the far room. “Well, let’s make our way over there, shall we? Nataliya and the kitchen staff set up a station over there.”

  The three left the rest of the guests chatting and walked to the library; Mallory was about to pour herself and Penny each a glass of wine when she heard a man’s voice from around the corner.

  She put her fingers to her lips, signaling for the other two to stay quiet.

  “Well, why don’t we just throw him out, then?”

  “No!” Joelle snapped. “We can’t do that. He’s already here. We’ll just kill his character off early.”

  “How?” The man, who Mallory was pretty sure was Bronson, asked.

  “What do you mean, how? Get Geneviève to do it.”

  Bronson sighed. “She’s not the killer in the modified storyline. She’s first to get bumped off now, remember?”

  “Oh right, this silly criss-cross plot has my head spinning. Well, find our missing detective. I need to fill him in on some details, then,” Joelle said irritably.

  Penny set the wine back down as their voices began to fade and the three women walked back to join the gang in the dining room.

  “Sounds like Geneviève was an actress after all,” Danior commented with an ear-to-ear grin.

  “Yes, and the first to die.” Mallory shook her head, “I wo
nder what a criss-cross plot is?”

  The grandfather clock chimed six and Nana appeared suddenly at the head of the long, formal table. She swept one bejeweled hand up to the bouquet hairpin in her coiffed hair and shouted. “Attention, murder victims, I mean guests.”

  Everyone stopped speaking and turned their heads—time to play.

  8

  “T hank you all for coming—not that any of you had a choice in the matter.” Nana threw her head back and gave off her best evil laugh. You could hear a pin drop, Mallory thought, reveling in the air of suspense.

  “As you know, I am Madam Murter and, if you’ll just take your seats at the dining table, we can begin dinner. In front of you you’ll find the manor’s specialty bread—an old family recipe; fresh salad; your choice of creamy chicken goulash or mushroom lasagna; and, in honor of our birthday girl, chocolate fudge Cadbury crème egg cake. Please enjoy. After dinner we will commence with the night’s entertainment.”

  “Tell us the ghost story while we eat!” Eve, standing against the wall next to Bronson, shouted.

  Mallory reached for the goulash as did most of the table while Danior, Lana and Gloria scooped out the lasagna. Denise waited for everyone to finish and then heaped her plate with both options. Nana wasn’t kidding, that lady could eat.

  “That’s right. Emilion did tell me that you’d requested our history be shared.” Nana nodded gravely at her own statement as she broke her bread and dipped it in the goulash. “Alright, I shall tell the story of my husband’s parents.” She swallowed her mouthful of food and then lifted her hand and pointed at an oil portrait of a woman. “That is a picture of them up there. Ion and his wife, Simza, fell in love at sixteen when Simza came to live with them. She was a survivor of Nazi Germany.”

  Harley winked at Mallory as he shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth, most likely remembering the history she’d shared earlier.

  “They married a couple of years later and remained at the manor with the family,” Nana continued.