Ghastly Glass

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  Henry started crying. “Okay. Okay. I get the idea. I borrowed some money from him. I spent thirty thousand dollars from the money my uncle gave me to start the new store. I had some bad breaks at the track, but I thought I could win it back before I had to use it. I was wrong.”

  “So you used the sage green glass rod to beat Roger up so you could use his power of attorney to get the money back while he was in the hospital,” I finished for him with a flourish and quite a bit of satisfaction.

  “You were listening!” Henry glared at me. “That’s rude, you know, even for this place.”

  “I get that part,” Detective Almond said. “What I don’t get is why you killed the giant? Was it just for fun?”

  “Wait a minute!” Henry looked at all of us as if we’d act as witnesses for him. “I didn’t kill anyone. All I did was borrow some money and use Uncle Roger to try to pay it back.”

  “Is that all?” Chase mocked him.

  “That doesn’t make me guilty of murder,” Henry continued. “I didn’t kill that big Death guy. That wasn’t me.”

  “His name was Ross,” Bart said quietly. “He was my brother.”

  Detective Almond looked back and up. I could see his mind working when he saw Bart. He obviously didn’t know he was Ross’s brother. I suspected he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to stop him if he lunged at Henry. “Let’s wrap this up at the station. Read him his rights, boys. Let’s go.”

  I could hear Henry’s shouting and pleading that he wasn’t Ross’s killer halfway out of the park. Maybe no one else believed him, but I did. I had an extravagant hot fudge sundae riding on it. But how could I prove the two crimes weren’t linked? It wasn’t like the real killer was going to rush out and confess to save Henry.

  “Don’t worry,” Detective Almond told Bart, “we’ll get him to confess. It’s a slam dunk from here.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Bart extended his hand. “I appreciate all you’ve done for my brother.”

  “I appreciate your help as well.” Detective Almond shook his hand, his fingers disappearing into Bart’s. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”

  “That sounds like a job well done, Sir Bailiff.” Grigg said it loudly as though trying to make a point.

  “Of course.” Detective Almond shook Chase’s hand, too. “Good job, Manhattan.”

  “Thanks. I have my Scooby-Doo gang to thank for tonight. Maybe now the Village can get back to normal.”

  “As normal as that is,” Detective Almond muttered as he walked away.

  “Huzzah!” Grigg yelled. “I believe this calls for a round or two of ale. What say you, my fine companions?”

  There was a general round of “Huzzahs,” then everyone started toward Baron’s, which was the closest tavern.

  “I think we might pass on that, guys.” Chase put his arm around me and grinned. “I have a bet to collect on.”

  Of course I never believed for one minute that Chase had won the bet. I made him wait two weeks before giving in. He bought the Joan of Arc armor and sword, but it rested on a chair in the bedroom all that time. Finally, I admitted he seemed to be right about Henry.

  I mean, everything went from one hundred to zero once the police had him in custody. All of the dire blood (and not blood) Death shall find thee messages disappeared from the Village. Everything was as calm and smooth as Mirror Lake. It appeared as though Chase had been right and Henry was a killer as well as an attacker.

  We watched on the eight o’clock news one night about two weeks later as Henry, through his attorney, pleaded not guilty to killing Ross DeMilo.

  “Is that Henry standing there with him?” I asked Chase. He looked so different. I knew it had to be him, but I didn’t trust my eyes.

  “That’s him. A few weeks of jail can do some bad things to a man.” Chase lay beside me in the bed above the dungeon. We’d been back there for a while and nothing weird had happened. Even the banshee had been silent.

  I looked at him, enjoying the Monday morning quiet after the relatively uneventful King’s Feast the night before. I ran my hand through his long, loose hair. “And you’d know so much about that,” I teased him.

  He grew strangely serious. “I do, actually. My dad was in prison for almost ten years when I was growing up. He was a stockbroker who went a little off course and did some insider trading. I remember going to visit him one Sunday each month from the time I was eight until I was eighteen. It was a rough time for my family. It’s what made me decide to be a lawyer.”

  I was touched that he had opened up to me that way. I hugged him with tears in my eyes for the little Chase that he had been. “That’s awful. What does he do now?”

  He shrugged. “He’s been retired since then. Lucky for him he married an heiress. Lucky for me, too. We never had to go without because he was gone.”

  “An heiress, huh? Does that make you an heir?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. My mom’s family owns a major national distribution company. I haven’t exactly been popular for moving away from home and not being involved with the family business.”

  I sat up and stared at him, not really surprised to find out his family was loaded. I had always kind of suspected as much from little tidbits of information he’d dropped from time to time. “So you became a lawyer, but not the kind that helps people. But you don’t want to inherit from your mom either. What do you want?”

  He smiled at me and pulled me back down beside him. “You. Everything after that kind of blurs out. Besides, I’d have to be in Scottsdale if I wanted to be part of the business. I couldn’t be here.”

  I kissed him, not able to argue with that logic. I wanted him to be here, too. But it did sort of amaze me that someone who was rich would choose not to live that lifestyle. My brother Tony and I had always been financially challenged as we grew up. From what I can tell, my parents were the same. My grandmother who raised us had received poor packages from the church each week.

  I thought about how life could change a lot as I worked with Roger after Henry went to jail. He’d become the perfect teacher after almost having his brain smashed out. I guessed that was what Chase had meant about circumstances changing a person. Roger had certainly benefited from a whack on the head and marriage to Mary.

  I got the hang of using the torch enough to create some nice little animals to take home with me. Nothing Roger could sell, but that wasn’t my goal in learning glass art. I had lived as a poverty-ridden student for so many years only to find myself an assistant professor barely surviving. It was excellent incentive for me to get my Ph.D. I wondered what Chase used as incentive since he’d never gone without.

  Of course, I could’ve used my education outside of the university and probably made a lot more money. That had never occurred to me even though I’d eaten my fair share (and someone else’s) of Ramen Noodles. I guess we all have choices to make.

  Roger had chosen that Monday for an outdoor demonstration of glassblowing. He had enlisted my help to give me a taste of what the Venetian glassblowers had brought to its highest art form hundreds of years ago.

  The day was warm and sunny, though it had started with a heavy frost that settled on the rooftops and pumpkins between the dungeon and the Glass Gryphon. I kissed Chase good-bye and promised to meet him for lunch. I was in an exceptional mood since he had shared something important about himself and his life with me. It didn’t hurt that he’d also surprised me with my wager for winning our bet even though he believed I’d lost. Let me tell you, he makes a mean hot fudge sundae (with all the trimmings).

  Mary and Roger were still working out the details for how they’d live together. Neither one of them had much space in their small apartments. The plan seemed to be that they’d use the space upstairs from the glass shop as storage and they’d live in Mary’s slightly bigger apartment above her basket shop.

  They’d been busy all week moving stuff back and forth. It was kind of like watching two big ants rearranging their anthill. Mary’s extra bl
ankets came one way and Roger’s favorite chair went another.

  Crowds had slimmed down some from the record highs between Ross’s death and Henry’s arrest, but there were enough visitors that Chase had told me Adventure Land was already planning Halloween II in the Village. I liked it better when it wasn’t so busy. The Village wasn’t meant to be that crammed full of people.

  Bart had stayed on as Death even though he had his answer to what happened to his brother. It was only a few weeks after all, and I supposed management had offered him enough money for the part to make it worthwhile. He’d totally stopped working on the computer program to identify employees in the Village, past and present. Now that the threat was over, what was the point?

  Roger had the furnace all ready to go by the time I got to the glass shop. He’d shown me the basic maneuvers of getting the molten glass out and using the long pipe to gently blow into the glass and create a hollow opening. Aside from the extreme heat, the process was fairly easy and a lot like a larger version of working with the torch.

  During the two hours we spent outside, I would start each project, then Roger would finish using the graphite shaping tools, in most cases. In others, he created glass balloonlike objects that became vases and artistic glassware.

  We attracted a good-size crowd (including a bus of seniors from Surfside Beach). They were very appreciative of our joint efforts and bought more than five thousand dollars worth of merchandise after the show was over.

  I enjoyed the process and didn’t even mind putting everything into the annealing oven afterward to cool. Sure, I wouldn’t see any of those mammoth profits, but I’d picked up a lot of valuable information that would go into my dissertation.

  Chase and I had lunch and spent an hour walking around the Village, looking at everything and everyone. I felt thoroughly relaxed, a nice change after the stressful beginning to my stay. He left me at about two P.M. to deal with a problem at the main gate.

  I walked back to the glass shop, but Roger was busy moving most of the afternoon (they were calling for rain the next day) and I mostly waited on customers. That gave me some free time to think about the night ahead. I hadn’t yet used my guaranteed incense from Cupid’s Arrow and decided to make that evening something special for Chase and me. After the shop closed, I made a run down to Polo’s Pasta for some takeout Italian and wine in paper cups. Not perfect, maybe, but not bad. I went back to the dungeon and dressed the place up some. I dressed me up, too (or down, depending on how you look at it), lit the incense about eight thirty, and waited for Chase.

  He arrived not long after carrying a huge bouquet of flowers he’d bought from one of the undead flower girls in the street. We met each other at the door to the dungeon apartment and Polo’s excellent pasta was largely forgotten.

  Unfortunately, that was where everything started going wrong. Chase started sneezing (it seems he’s allergic to patchouli), and for some reason, the banshee began to wail again.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said between sneezes. “Could you open a window?”

  “Of course. I’m really sorry.” I apologized for the tenth time, mentally promising to strangle Adora tomorrow. How could she sell me something Chase was allergic to? Not very romantic.

  I opened all the windows in the apartment and turned on the fan to help the incense dissipate a little faster. Maybe it would be better to eat first and get romantic later, after Chase took some Benadryl. Hopefully the whole night wasn’t ruined.

  I put the pasta into the microwave, then struck what I hoped was a sexy pose and waited.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was still waiting. Most of the incense had dissipated. I hoped Chase was okay. Finally I put on his robe and walked downstairs. “Chase? Are you still breathing? I thought maybe food with a side of antihistamine. What do you think?”

  No answer.

  “Chase?” I opened the front door and set off the banshee again.

  Vowing to totally obliterate whatever the mechanism was that was causing that sound, I switched on the inside light and stopped breathing for an instant as my heart pounded in my chest.

  On the wall beside the big door was the phrase I’d hoped never to see again: Death shall find thee. But there was no sign of Chase.

  Twenty-two

  I didn’t panic at first. I thought maybe someone had called him. It’s not like it hadn’t happened before. Maybe he didn’t want to worry me and thought it would be a short job. I went back upstairs and sat on the bed for a long time (at least five minutes), then I started calling around.

  I figured if another security guard or one of the guild members had called him, they’d know where he was. The Death message frightened me, especially after having gone so long without seeing it. But that didn’t mean someone had broken into the dungeon, hit Chase in the head, and dragged him out by his feet. No, sir. It didn’t necessarily mean anything like that.

  Thirty minutes later, I’d talked to the three security guards who patrol the Village at night. I’d forgotten that the guilds had stopped their patrols last week after everything seemed to have quieted down. They weren’t happy about it either. Chase had told me how hard it was to get the two-way radios back from the pirates and the monks.

  Where are you, Chase?

  I got on the phone with the Myrtle Beach police as soon as I’d confirmed Chase hadn’t been called out by security. The first man I talked to, Sergeant Somebody or Other, told me I couldn’t report Chase missing for forty-eight hours. I explained the circumstances. He said it didn’t matter.

  I hung up the phone and got online. My hands were clammy and cold on the keyboard. Every noise in the dungeon below sounded like someone coming to get me. Had someone actually come to get Chase? It wasn’t likely that he’d go wandering out in the dark in his boxers. Only an emergency could’ve tempted him to go out like that. If there was an emergency, I couldn’t find anyone else who knew about it.

  I looked up Detective Almond in the online phone book. That didn’t work, so using his name, I did an Internet search, which produced a long list of hits. Finally, I saw that he and his wife had the yard of the month in May. I knew what subdivision he lived in and his address. I used that information to ferret out his phone number. His wife belonged to every club in Myrtle Beach!

  It was after eleven when I called him. Detective Almond was probably asleep, but I didn’t care. Something was very wrong. I wasn’t sure what else to do. I let the phone ring until someone answered. “Hello?”

  “Detective Almond. This is Jessie Morton from Renaissance Village. I think someone kidnapped Chase Manhattan.”

  “The bailiff?” He yawned into the phone. “Who’d want to do that?”

  I told him about the words written on the wall downstairs. “I don’t know who it is. But I wish you’d come out here and take a look.”

  “We can’t officially look for a missing adult for forty-eight hours. That’s police policy. Maybe he went out for a pack of smokes or a cheeseburger. Sometimes people just need some space, you know? Were you arguing when he left?”

  “Not exactly.” I didn’t elaborate on what we were doing. “Chase isn’t the kind of person to just rush out in the night wearing boxers to get a cheeseburger from McDonald’s. And he doesn’t smoke.”

  “Let’s give him some personal space, okay? Call me tomorrow if he’s still not back. Then we’ll talk.”

  “What if he’s dead by then? What if whoever wrote those words took him?”

  He laughed. “First of all, Manhattan is kind of a big, strapping boy for someone to just come by and pick up if he didn’t want to go. You know what I’m saying? And the man who wrote those words is in jail.”

  “The other words,” I agreed. “Not the words downstairs. They weren’t there yesterday.”

  “Maybe it’s a joke or maybe Manhattan wrote them to buy himself some personal time. Just go to sleep and I’m sure he’ll be back in the morning. Good night.”

  The phone was rudely clunked down on the oth
er end. I stared at it, thinking of all the evil tricks I could do to get Detective Almond’s attention. In college, we’d frequently ordered dozens of pizzas for unsuspecting professors who’d done us wrong. Once we’d even ordered a thousand pounds of sand delivered to the president’s garden party. That one had come back and bitten us in the butt.

  I realized this was no time to reminisce about past fun or worry about getting back at Detective Almond. Chase’s life could literally be on the line. I had to act. No way could I lie down again that night not knowing what had happened to him.

  Of all the people in Renaissance Village I could think of to help me find him, Grigg came immediately to mind. I might’ve gone with Roger since he’d been a police officer, too, but he was still having a hard time walking. And he’d been on the job about twenty years ago. Grigg was a recent police officer. If I could convince him to take my concern seriously, I thought he might be the one to help.

  I put on some jeans and a sweater, tucked a two-way radio into my waistband, and put my cell phone in my pocket. I found a flashlight and a baseball bat. I wished I had a gun. But the only weaponlike thing in the dungeon was a crossbow.

  I looked at my new Joan of Arc sword. It wasn’t metal like the one I’d used to fight Roger at the King’s Feast. It was silver-painted plastic (Chase didn’t want to own the real thing), but maybe it would do in a pinch. I wouldn’t be able to kill someone with it, but maybe I could at least frighten them. I hung the sword in the scabbard across my back and sneaked out into the night.

  The Village was very quiet. All of the special effects (including the zombies) had been off for a while. I saw a security guard walking past the tree swing and set out in the other direction toward Mirror Lake and the pirates. It wouldn’t do much good to tell a security guard I couldn’t find Chase, I supposed, after Detective Almond’s response.

  I stayed purposely in the shadows where the streetlights wouldn’t find me. I wanted to talk to Grigg before anyone else. Maybe he could help me make some sense of what had happened.