Ghastly Glass

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  “Thank you. I don’t like people to think I’m a killer.” He smiled at me and shook his big head.

  “But you’re Death. How much more of a killer could that be? ”

  “Maybe. But that’s only the character I’m playing. Inside, I’m a lover, not a fighter. I like poetry and those little boxes full of sand that come with tiny rakes.”

  Before I could answer (just as well, what would I say to that?) the door to the first aid station opened and Wanda LeFay, the only registered nurse in the Village, looked out at us. “Jessie? Is something wrong? ”

  “No!” I started to hobble away from her. I must have twisted one of my ankles when I fell. Every step was agony. No wonder movie heroines always fall to the ground and scream when they turn their ankles. “I’m going back to the dungeon now. Good night.”

  “But you’re hurt,” Death argued. “See? You can’t even walk straight. You need help.”

  “Not from her,” I mumbled. I sure didn’t want Wanda’s cold, blue, fish eyes looking me over and finding something else she could hurt. “No,” I said louder. “I’m fine. I’ll deal with it.”

  Wanda glanced at Death. “Bring her inside, will you? Let’s just have a little look-see.”

  Wanting to help, Death scooped me up again and deposited me in Wanda’s infirmary, otherwise known as her house of horrors. No doubt she didn’t have to do much of anything for Halloween. She’d once given me a tetanus shot after an injury and the needle had broken off in my arm. We’re talking serious, life-threatening terror dispensed with a pleasant, real-life British accent, one of the few real ones in the Village.

  “I’m fine, Wanda. Really.” I struggled to escape, but Death held me in place with one hand. Maybe he really was destined to kill me.

  “Stop fussing!” Wanda commanded. “I believe you’ve got a small sprain. Nothing to get upset about. I’ll just wrap it nice and tight. That’s all it needs.”

  Death’s colossal figure blocked my view of what Wanda was doing, but I could feel her nice-and-tight bandage technique cutting off the circulation to my foot. All I could do was wince in pain and hope it would be over soon. As soon as I escaped from Wanda’s evil clutches, I’d take off the bandage—hopefully before I needed an amputation.

  “There we are! Good as new. You take it easy for a few days and you’ll never even know it happened.” She stood back to admire her handiwork.

  When Death moved aside, I knew I had to get out of there before she decided to fix something else. I also knew I couldn’t hobble away fast enough. I needed a diversion.

  “Maybe I should take your temp, Jessie,” Wanda said thoughtfully. “Don’t want you to run a fever with your sprain, do we? I only have a rectal thermometer, but that should do.”

  “What’s that? ” I pointed out the back window that gave a view of the small patch of ground between the first aid station and the wall around the Village. “I think I saw someone spray painting the wall. I’ll bet it’s the same person who’s been going around the Village putting graffiti on everything.”

  It was a strategic maneuver: I knew Death would be interested and Wanda, Queen of the Rules, would rise to the bait. And I was right. Both of them hurried into the back after Wanda picked up her extremely large stun gun. I mean, what did she plan on bringing down with that thing, an ox?

  I didn’t care. I hobbled out the front door and hid in the shadows against the apothecary wall. I could hear Wanda swearing in her native tongue, which sounded nothing like American swearing, and Death lumbering around looking for me. My ankle was killing me, but that was only a metaphor; I feared Wanda was capable of the real thing if given the chance.

  After a while, their noise died out and I heard the crowds begin leaving the castle after the feast. I wished I knew where Chase was, but I was going to have to make it back to the dungeon on my own.

  I scooted out into the light and another large shadow fell across me. Death had found me again.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” he said. “She was trying to help you.”

  “Yeah. But the Inquisition was trying to help, too.”

  “She made your foot better. See? You’re walking good now.”

  “There you are!” Chase crept up on us. “Are you okay, Jessie? ”

  “I’m fine.” I made a fast move to his side and wrapped my arms around him. I was really glad to see him and was surprised by how small he looked compared to Ross’s brother. “Chase, this is Death. Death, Chase.”

  “You know that it hurts for someone to call you names,” Death said. “You could use my real name.”

  I couldn’t remember his real name and looked at Chase, hoping he could. Lucky for me, he picked up on my distress and held his hand out to the giant. “Hi. I’m Chase Manhattan, the Village bailiff. You must be Bart. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Bart smiled hugely and reached his hand out to Chase. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too. Do you know who killed my brother? ”

  We sat around a wooden table at the Lady of the Lake Tavern discussing what happened to Death’s (I mean, Bart’s) brother. Bart was actually a very nice man who was fiercely loyal to his brother and determined to figure out who killed Ross.

  “I thought if I took this job, whoever killed Ross would come after me. No such luck.” He wrapped his huge hand around a tankard, making it look like a toy.

  “At least not yet,” Chase said. “This could be dangerous, Bart. I don’t think your brother was singled out, unless it was because of the irony.”

  Bart stared at him, apparently not taking his meaning.

  “He means somebody got a kick out of killing Death. You know?” I hoped that explained it. “If that’s the case, you could be next in line.”

  Bart finished his drink and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s why I’m here. I want them to come at me. The police don’t know who did it. They don’t even have a suspect.”

  Chase shrugged. “There were more than two thousand people here at the time Ross was killed. Unless you have someone in mind who had it in for him, I’m afraid it’s gonna be like getting those people off Gilligan’s Island.”

  “I know.” The giant smiled. “But I think they got home in that last movie.”

  “Really?” Chase asked. “I don’t think I saw that one. I always thought the professor would die before he made it back. Again, the irony.”

  I didn’t think Bart understood that irony either. I leaned forward and put my hand on his. My God! It was huge. “Did your brother have any enemies? ”

  “No! He was lovable and helpful, just like me. He trusted people. Maybe too much. No one would want to kill him, lady.”

  “Jessie,” I corrected. “You can call me Jessie.”

  He nodded. “I saw you fight. You’re a good fighter.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chase looked at me, then looked back at Bart. “I’m sorry I don’t have better answers for you. I wish I knew what happened to him. The honest answer is, it could’ve been any of those two thousand visitors here that day or any of the five hundred or so residents. I don’t like thinking it could be someone who works here, but I don’t know for sure.”

  The tavern was quiet and empty around us as the owner, Ginny Stuart (no relation to Mary Stuart, as far as I know), and her workers cleaned up for the next day. The smell of pine was very strong. I looked out the window and saw the Queen’s Revenge sitting at anchor close by. Not much worry about marauding pirates after the Village was closed.

  “How will we ever find out who killed Ross if he didn’t have any enemies and we don’t have any suspects? ” I asked over the swish of the mop on the wood floor.

  “Maybe it’s whoever’s writing on the walls.” Bart shrugged his massive shoulders. “Since that same thing was on Ross’s robe, maybe the killer has something else to say.”

  “I’ve thought about that, too,” Chase agreed. “But again, all those people saw it and it was on TV, so another hundred thousand or
so people saw it. Detective Almond thinks it’s probably a copycat. I kind of agree with him.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bart said. “I think whoever killed my brother is still here. Maybe he plans to kill me, too. For the irony, right, Jessie? ”

  Neither one of us could disagree with him. It was a complete mystery. I could see Chase’s point about someone targeting Death to die. But what would be the point if no one had a grudge against him? If it was someone who had something to say, it seemed like they would’ve taken responsibility.

  Figuring out what happened and why was on my to-do list now that Mary and Roger were back together. I wasn’t sure where to start, but looking at Bart’s plain but sweet face, I knew he needed closure. He needed to know what happened. Myrtle Beach PD would probably never know. It was up to me and Chase.

  But right now, I was exhausted. Too exhausted to think anymore. I wanted to lay my head down on the wooden table and fall asleep like a drunken sailor. My ankle throbbed when I thought of the long walk back across the Village. The ale helped some, but most of me didn’t want to move.

  “Ye scurvy slugs better be gettin’ on outta here,” Ginny said in her usual colorful language. Obviously she’d spent too much time with Rafe and the other pirates.

  She was a rough-looking, white-haired woman who always wore the same green dress with her large bosom nearly pushed out of the neckline. She’d owned the Lady of the Lake for as long as I’d been coming to the Village. Believe me, no one ever argued with her.

  “We’re on our way out,” Chase told her with a smile guaranteed to melt the hardest heart.

  Ginny grinned, showing her gold-capped teeth (another pirate necessity). “Lord love ye, Sir Bailiff. Ye could charm the ravens out of the Hanging Tree.”

  Chase shook her hand as he walked by, but apparently that wasn’t enough for Ginny. She goosed him before he could get out of the tavern.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to question it. Ginny could split my gizzard (her words a long time ago) without breaking a sweat. Besides, I wasn’t worried about her. Not like Princess Isabel or the sex-crazy fairies/wraiths. There were way more dangers in the Village than Ginny. At least as far as Chase’s body was concerned.

  We walked outside and stopped dead in the shadow of the old Hanging Tree. In the hour or so while we were inside talking about Bart’s brother, Village decorators had come up with another brilliant Halloween idea.

  The entire Village was covered in fake spiderweb. It glistened in the streetlights and moved with the breeze. In some spots, it was too heavy to walk through. Visitors and residents would need scissors to get around in the morning.

  “This is spooky.” Bart pulled up his hood. He tested the spiderweb against his scythe. “It’s good and strong,” he added when it didn’t pull down.

  “Looks like a giant spider from hell or Mars visited,” I remarked.

  “It would have to be hell,” Chase said. “Mars would be sci-fi. We don’t do that here.”

  We said good night to Bart and started across the King’s Highway. “This is gonna be a mess for maintenance,” Chase said. “It sucks to be them.”

  I agreed. “Who do you think is making all these choices? ”

  Merlin ran by us (at least as far as the spiderwebs would let him). His robe flashed in the breeze. “Isn’t it wonderful? Don’t you love it? ”

  We watched him continue skipping and running through the webbing. I didn’t have to wonder for long who’d decided we needed giant spiderwebs all over the Village. Now that I knew about Merlin being Adventure Land’s founder, I knew who to blame for everything.

  “Any ideas yet on what you plan to do to get even with Rafe? ” Chase asked as we walked past Eve’s Garden at the far end of Mirror Lake.

  “Not yet. I’ve kind of been busy thinking about Mary and Roger, and now finding out who killed Ross.”

  “I have an idea.”

  “Does it involve pain and suffering? ”

  “Not really. I thought about emptying his wine casks and filling them with vinegar.”

  “Too easy.” I walked beside him, dodging webbing. “You know, this looks like a trailer for a bad Spiderman movie.”

  “You think so? ” He looked around us at the spiderwebs, which connected every stationary object inside the Village wall. “I like the spider-from-hell scenario best.”

  “Maybe. I suppose visitors will love it.”

  “And want to have their pictures taken wrapped in it.”

  I slipped my arm through his. “Maybe we should just get up late tomorrow.”

  “That works for me.” He grinned. “You are really hot in that outfit.”

  “You already told me that, remember? When you took it off right after I put it on the first time.” I smiled, thoroughly enjoying the way he was looking at me.

  “That was before I saw you fight Roger. Believe me, there wasn’t a knave or king in that room who didn’t want you. You have great legs, Jessie.”

  “Yeah. You probably say that to all the armor-wearing babes in the Village.”

  We’d reached the dungeon and Chase had his hand on the door. “Besides you, that only leaves Daisy. I don’t think that’s happening.”

  “But maybe not because you don’t want it to.”

  We both laughed and he opened the door. Laughter turned quickly to groaning when the stupid banshee started wailing again. Chase swore and hit the sturdy dungeon door with his fist. “I don’t understand this. I ripped everything out of here twice. Who keeps putting it back? ”

  I glanced at the inside of the dungeon door as Chase stalked into the darkness to remove the banshee again. One of the stuffed scarecrows from the hatchet-throwing booth was pinned to the door with the same blood red words scribbled across its chest: Death shall find thee.

  “Chase.” I swallowed hard on my fear. “If Bart is right, his brother’s killer just paid us a visit. Again.”

  Fourteen

  Chase and I both slept at Debby’s that night. We had very little with us, but Chase had managed to take back my two-way radio before we left the dungeon. It wasn’t much fun, but at least it felt safe. I got up sometime during the long night and went to check on Chase, who was sleeping in the living room. Debby’s sofa (really a love seat) was big enough for only part of him. Most of him was either sticking out in the air or on the floor. It didn’t look very comfortable. I felt guilty for taking the soft bed. But considering Debby was in the bed, too, I guess I didn’t feel too bad.

  I went back to sleep, and when I woke up at eight, he was gone. No note. No two-way radio. I felt a little less kindly toward him. He could’ve left me something. My ankle felt better though. I was glad for that.

  “Where’s Chase?” Debby asked, coming out of the bathroom.

  “He had to go to work,” I made up. “He’s really busy.”

  She nodded. “I know. With all this stuff going on in the Village, I’m surprised he gets to sleep at all. It must be superexciting to be with him, huh? ”

  I assured her it was more superexciting than she could imagine, then went to take a shower. The hot water was gone (big surprise) so it was a really quick, cold shower. I put on the bustier and the black leather pants. The blouse made the outfit look decent enough, but I couldn’t wear it again. Later, maybe at lunch, I’d wander down to see Portia and return my Joan of Arc costume. If I was lucky she’d have something else for me.

  The Village was a mess after the giant spiderweb fiasco of last night. The webbing was damp from the morning’s drizzly weather, and much of it had fallen down on the ground like big white strings of polyester taffy. Everyone was jumping over it or ducking under it. Twice I saw some of it slide from a shop roof into the street. It was going to be a huge cleanup job for maintenance, as Chase had predicted.

  I stopped at Sir Latte’s and listened to the endless speculation by residents about what was happening. Most people thought the red lettering was a joke or something the Village was doing as a Halloween promotion. A few
were scared because of the phrase’s connection to Ross’s death. Many were completely unaware anything had happened.

  I ate my muffin and drank my mocha without adding to the speculation. I might have been in the middle of what was going on, but I had no idea why it was happening, and what little I knew seemed better kept to myself.

  I finished my breakfast and headed out into the damp day. Hopefully the early morning drizzle would give way to sunshine. The weather at the coast often starts out rainy but clears up by noon. Of course, this time of year was serious hurricane season. Maybe by lunch, none of us would be here.

  I didn’t realize until I was standing outside of the Glass Gryphon that I was dreading seeing Roger again. Oh yeah, I’d been flip about it last night when I was beating him at fake swordplay. And maybe he wouldn’t be upset because I had reunited him with Mary in a big way. He might even be grateful. Or he might tell me to get lost.

  I opened the shop door just before the main gate was due to open on the other side of the Village. Roger was not at his workbench. Henry looked up from whatever he was creating but didn’t say anything. Did that bode well for my return to glass art?

  “Good morning.” Roger came down the stairs from his apartment. He was dressed in his usual white shirt and brown leather jerkin. “Are you ready to get started? ”

  My heart jumped a little. I was really looking forward to continuing my apprenticeship. At least I didn’t have to beg to have my workbench back. “You bet. My little dog wants a body.”

  He laughed. I stared at him. It was a real laugh, not some snide precursor to a remark that was going to irritate me. I couldn’t believe it. Then Mary came downstairs, twisting her red scarf around her head. Suddenly, I understood.

  I walked over to my workbench and lit up the torch. At least I remembered how to do that much. I could feel everyone watching me. I put on my glasses and looked up at them. “What? ”

  Mary shook her head. “Putting that girl next to fire is not a good idea. Be careful, Jessie. That thing can give you a lot more than a cut on the finger.” She kissed Roger good-bye and sailed out the front door toward Wicked Weaves across the street.