Murderous Matrimony (Renaissance Faire Mystery)

by Lavene, Joyce

  “Detective Almond told me not to give you any information.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, Jessie.”

  “Me, specifically?”

  “Looks like you have a problem, Jessie, my pet.” Wanda’s laugh raced through the castle. “They beat you to it!”

  Chapter Four

  “Bart—you know I can do this! I know the Village better than the police. I’m the one who found your brother’s killer.”

  “I can’t help you under fear of penalty of law.” He frowned. “Detective Almond said he’d arrest me for being an accessory if I tell you anything about Dave.”

  Detective Almond wasn’t going to stop me that way!

  I glanced around the office. “Bart, I need to make a few copies of things for the museum.”

  “Jessie. I can’t help you!”

  “It’s only copies.” I crossed my heart. “There’s nothing wrong with copies, right?”

  “Copies, huh?” He grunted and heaved himself out of his specially built chair. “All right. I’m going to get some coffee. I never saw you. Don’t be here when I get back.”

  “I won’t.” I kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Bart!”

  When he was gone, I sat down at the computer and looked in the file for Village employees. I’d sneaked into the office once before, and looked at as many files as I could while Bart was gone. I hadn’t been looking for Dave’s file at the time, but then he wasn’t dead.

  “Ooo, look!” Wanda sat on top of the monitor. “Everything you’ve always wanted to know about everyone here. Wish I’d seen this before.”

  “Good thing you didn’t. No telling what kind of things you would’ve done to them.”

  “Nothing you wouldn’t have done too! I think I am a monument to that truth.” She stood up, blue and naked, and floated around the room. Papers hit the floor and maps of the Village flew off the walls. “I’m becoming rather good at this, aren’t I?”

  “Wonderful.” I tried to ignore her and get the information before Bart got back. I knew he wouldn’t really do anything to me, but I didn’t want him to get in trouble either. If anyone else from administration found me here without Bart, it would be bad.

  “Found it!” I said out loud. “David Olson, thirty-eight. Graduate of UCLA. Degree in drama and theater.”

  “And still he ended up here playing a madman,” she mused. “What a pity!”

  “It says that he wasn’t married. No close family. He was reprimanded twice for gambling by Roger Trent.” I frowned. “I didn’t know he’d been here that long.”

  “Oh, I could have told you that!” Wanda said. “I remember him being here almost since I came.”

  I felt bad about that, but the truth was that there were so many people who lived and worked here—or stayed for a season, left and came back—it was hard to keep up with them. Hundreds of high school seniors and college students worked here on and off. I only knew the main players who were here all the time.

  But Roger might be a good person to talk to about Dave. I definitely knew Roger since I’d apprenticed with him at his glass shop, The Glass Gryphon.

  I hurried and shut down the screen as Wanda tried to take another peek. I didn’t know what she could do with the information, but I didn’t want to find out either.

  “Well, that wasn’t very nice!”

  “Sorry. I think someone’s coming!”

  It was Bart coming back with an egg biscuit and a cup of coffee. “Want one? There were some left over after breakfast this morning. None of those skinny ladies-in-waiting eat around here.” He smiled at me. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

  “No biscuit, thanks, but I appreciate your help.”

  “What help?” He sat back down. “I just went out for coffee. You were making copies when I got back.”

  “Yeah. See you later. I have to figure out what happened to Dave before my wedding.”

  “Good luck with that.” Bart waved.

  Workmen were putting up big posters on the castle walls where visitors would wait to get into the King’s Feast on Sunday night. They were advertising my wedding, along with the “full day of fun festivities” on local and cable channels.

  Merlin, our resident wizard, had said the 250 or so weddings that day would be seen world-wide.

  I tried not to think about it.

  I heard a scream behind me. It was followed by the sound of a tray hitting the stone floor. There was also some breaking china. No doubt it was Wanda, frightening a chamber maid.

  Sometimes it was possible to be calm and rational about things. But I didn’t know what to do about Wanda. She was causing havoc everywhere, as Chase had said. No one seemed to know how to stop her.

  I decided to give Madame Lucinda, our resident fortune teller, one more try. She could be on my way to see Roger about Dave. What could it hurt? Imagine if I could find Dave’s killer and get rid of Wanda before my wedding. That would be something worth celebrating!

  As I left the castle, I saw a group of archers practicing outside The Feathered Shaft. I hadn’t even thought to ask Master Archer Simmons for his take on Dave’s murder-by-arrow. He might have some good suggestions too.

  “Jessie!” Master Simmons hailed me from outside his shop. “Just the lady I was hoping to see.”

  Master Simmons never seemed to age. He was a jovial, round-faced man with laughing eyes. He’d been one of the first craftsmen signed up for Renaissance Faire Village. I’d apprenticed with him when I’d first started working on my dissertation, and I learned a lot.

  “Good morning. How goes your life, good sir?”

  There weren’t many visitors headed our way yet, but I liked to stay in practice. You never knew when someone was standing behind you with a camera.

  “Things are good, Lady Jessie. I have great news for you. I received permission from the king and queen to have twenty archers each send a flaming arrow into the sky at the end of your marriage vows to the Bailiff. Exciting, eh?”

  “Very exciting,” I agreed with him. “We appreciate your tribute, Master Archer.”

  “Oh yes.” Wanda was there beside me, yawning. “So exciting I almost forgot to be awake. Fiery arrows? I’m all a’quiver. What will people think of next?”

  I was glad only a few people in the Village could hear her. Since Master Simmons didn’t so much as blink when she spoke, I knew he wasn’t one of them.

  When anyone actually saw or heard her, they ran away. I’d read a few accounts of ghost watching here by visitors on the Internet. The ghost stories probably enhanced attendance, but made for some disappointed visitors when they didn’t see a ghost.

  Yet another reason to get rid of Wanda—beyond my personal issues with her.

  I ignored her, and clasped his hands. “Thank you so much for being part of our special day.”

  He snorted. “Me and about a million other people, huh? Now that’s exciting. I hope my team of archers will be asked to perform at other venues, maybe the Super Bowl.”

  We laughed, and he gave some direction to his practicing archers.

  “Master Simmons, have you heard about Dave the Madman? He was found dead at the museum early this morning. There was a crossbow bolt in his chest.”

  He frowned. “Most unpleasant!”

  “It’s possible it was an antique. There’s one in the weapon museum next door to the arts and crafts museum. I saw it when they were first setting up.”

  “That would be mine,” he acknowledged. “I donated it, at least for a time, to the museum.”

  “Do you have any bolts that go with it?”

  “I do. I don’t think anyone could have used the crossbow to actually shoot a man. I donated it because it’s not in good repair. They told me they only wanted to hang it on the wall, so it was fine.”

  “Could I see one of the bolts for it?”

  “Of course!” He told his archers that he was going inside for a moment, and to continue their work.

  As usual, The Feathered Shaft was littered with bows and
arrows. Some of them were in the process of being created, while others were waiting to be picked up by buyers. Feathers for the nock end of the arrows flowed colorfully across the wood floor. Tips were even more apparent.

  “Pardon the mess,” he joked as he always did.

  But I knew he loved the shop exactly as it was. He wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  “Here’s one of the bolts that go with that crossbow.” He held it up, and we looked at it. “As you can see, not the straightest thing in the world. I only had four with the set. I lost one. There are two at the museum, and this is the last. You’d have to be a better archer than you or I, my girl, to hit a target as small as a man with it!”

  I could see that what he said was true. It didn’t help my case. “I’ll see if Chase can get a good look at the bolt—after they examine Dave. In the meantime, I’ll see if your crossbow is still at the weapon museum.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” His smile faded and he whispered, “I’d rather have my name left out of this if it’s all the same to you, Jessie. I have a little background with this sort of thing. I hope the police don’t think to drudge it up.”

  “Of course,” I replied. But I wondered what kind of trouble he’d been in. “I wish you well, sir. Good day.”

  Three visitors behind me laughed and applauded. They asked us to pose for a picture with the archers outside and then we each took pictures with them. Most players here understand the excitement and enthusiasm of our visitors, even if we don’t always share it.

  The Templar Knights were impressing visitors with their horse tricks by the time I reached the Main Gate again.

  Dressed in full armor, with their eye-catching red and black shields, they could make their horses dance. One of the knights flipped a penny right in front of another rider, and the horse came to a stop immediately. Another horse and knight crouched down, and a rider jumped over the top of them. It was amazing power and control, considering the size of the animals. It scared me watching them.

  I was headed to Madame Lucinda’s tent again. I knew she had the answer for what I could do to get rid of Wanda. I decided that I wasn’t asking the right question. But what was the right question? How many different ways can you frame, ‘How do I get rid of a ghost?’

  I couldn’t really knock on her purple and gold tent. How do you knock on material? I kind of announced myself, and parted the folds of the tent.

  “Hello?” I looked around the darkened interior and didn’t see anyone. “Madame Lucinda? It’s Jessie Morton. I need to talk to you again about Wanda. Are you here?”

  I’d been to see her several times in the last two weeks. She was probably getting tired of me, especially since I’d never paid her anything. She’d asked for silver, but I didn’t have any real silver except an old bracelet and some earrings. I would have gladly parted with them if she could take care of the problem.

  Technically, her advice was part of the ticket price at the Village. However, I would certainly be willing to overlook that if she’d help me. I had some change in my pocket, but it was doubtful any of it was silver. It was hard to remember to bring jewelry with me. Usually I saw her, spur of the moment, from desperation, like this.

  “Madame Lucinda?” I stepped a little further into the tent.

  It was an amazing place. I had no idea where she’d collected all of the artifacts that hung on her walls. I believed most of them were genuine—a grouping of medieval weapons and everyday items that had been used for survival at one time. There were priceless statues from every corner of the world, and gold cloth that seemed to have been spun by spiders.

  But how are they hanging on these flimsy tent walls?

  Being in the tent produced a feeling that nothing existed anywhere but here. How could a piece of tent material totally squash all the noise from a loud faire going on right outside?

  There were too many oddities about this place, and yet I was attracted here. I could hardly keep myself from walking inside when I passed it.

  Before I could call out again, the principle wonder of Madame Lucinda’s tent walked in front of me and stopped, taking up a challenging stance.

  “Nice dragon.”

  I know. There was no way the dragon was real. It defied everything I had ever learned. It wasn’t a puppet. It wasn’t a holographic image. It wasn’t a person in a costume, like Fred the Red Dragon. I’d checked out all those possibilities.

  The dragon was the size of a large terrier, the head seeming too large for the body. It was shiny green, the scales variegating from green to blue. It had yellow eyes that were fastened on me. Its mouth showed rows of sharp teeth. I’d seen it spit fire before.

  Though it seemed impossible—even here at the Ren Faire—I was pretty sure the dragon was real. I didn’t know how, but I had no other answer for it.

  When I’d mentioned it to other residents of the Village, they were all fine with the idea that there was a dragon inside the purple and gold tent. No one even seemed to question how a real dragon could be here. Many actually thought dragons had always been real, like dinosaurs, and had convincing arguments why this should be true.

  Of course, residents of the Village are not always the most logical, practical people in the world. Let’s face it, we live in a fantasy land where visitors from outside come to be immersed in another time and place. We’re encouraging people to use their imaginations.

  My imagination was having a hard time wrapping itself around this very real-looking dragon, confronting me like a guard dog. I feinted one way, and he followed me. I was definitely in his sights.

  “Oh. It’s you, Jessie.” Madame Lucinda suddenly appeared in the quiet darkness of the tent. “I’m sorry about Buttercup. She doesn’t like surprises, or unannounced visitors, for that matter.”

  “Buttercup? It’s a girl dragon?”

  Madame Lucinda laughed daintily as though my ignorance was amusing. She was an older woman, almost hunchbacked, who always wore a long purple robe. She had a difficult time walking. I thought maybe she was crippled, or in some way deformed, since she hid herself in here all the time, even after the Village was closed at night.

  She moved her long, gray hair away from her face as she sat down carefully in her chair. Before her was a tiny table with a glowing glass ball resting on it. “Actually, in their fight to survive, dragons have learned to be flexible in their gender. Buttercup is a female right now. She may be a male someday. She’s not old enough to mate as yet. We’ll see when the time comes.”

  I moved quickly as Buttercup jumped on a shelf where she usually perched above Madame Lucinda. I took the chair opposite the fortune teller at the table.

  “Are you telling me Buttercup is a real dragon?” I said it with all the authority that a master’s degree in medieval history could bring. “Because you know dragons were only mythology. They weren’t like dinosaurs where they existed and went extinct.”

  I looked up at the dragon as it made a kind of purring noise on the shelf above us.

  I wanted to hear her say it. I don’t know why since I probably wouldn’t believe it.

  “What do you think, Jessie? What does your heart tell you?”

  “I don’t know about my heart, but my eyes tell me the dragon is real.” I shook my head. “But I know it can’t be.”

  “Mythology is hard to define,” she said in a gruff voice. “One person’s mythology is another person’s truth.”

  “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “You aren’t here to ask me about Buttercup anyway, are you, Jessie?”

  “No.” I tried to clear my mind and accept that the dragon was a grand illusion that the fortune teller wasn’t giving up. I didn’t blame her. If I had an illusion so lifelike and difficult to ignore, I wouldn’t either.

  “I’m here about Wanda again. She’s ruining what’s left to ruin of my wedding. She figured out she can scare animals now, and doesn’t care if she hurts anyone, including children.”

 
“Regrettable.”

  “And I can’t be with Chase knowing she’s looking on and laughing. I have to find a way to get rid of her. Please. You have to help me.” I hadn’t meant to say so much, so quickly. It kind of poured out of me before I could stop.

  The fortune teller sighed. “Our options are limited. There are spells that can scrape a spirit away from another, but that would mean wishing Wanda on someone else. Are you prepared to do that?”

  I thought about it—I really thought about it. How could I wish an evil, naked, blue dead woman on someone else and ruin their lives? At least I understood what she was all about. She could make someone else have a heart attack, or worse.

  “I can’t do that, as much as I might want to. Isn’t there something else?”

  Madame Lucinda smiled at me. “I can’t do anything more for you, but there might be someone who can. I’m expecting him soon, in fact, he may be here already.”

  “Who is it?” I tried to think of anyone who could help with the Wanda problem. My list of friends and family, even on Facebook, didn’t include someone with Ghostbuster qualifications.

  “He is a powerful sorcerer. Your friend, Wanda, met him long ago. He gave her a trinket that she cherished until she died. He won’t leave it here with anyone else. He’ll be back for it, and when he comes, you can ask him to take Wanda away. He’ll know what to do.”

  The whole sorcerer angle of that plan left me a little unhappy. I’d known sorcerers since I’d started coming to the Ren Faire when I first got out of college. As far as I could tell, they specialized in BS, and trying to get free meals and rides out of town. I didn’t believe there was one who would take Wanda anywhere with him.

  “Well, thanks anyway. I guess I’ll keep looking into it.” I got up from the little table. It’s not like I hadn’t asked her before, and the answer was never forthcoming. She might have a dragon, but she either didn’t know how to get rid of a ghost, or she wasn’t telling.

  “Do you have the trinket, Jessie?”

  “Oh! I have some change that might have some silver in it.” I reached into my pocket. There was an older silver dime in there.