Fatal Fairies (Renaissance Faire Mystery Book 8)

by Joyce Lavene

  Detective Almond stared at me. “Did you just make that up, or is it a real thing?”

  “I was a history professor. It’s a real thing. And it might help us catch the killer.”

  “I’ll hang on to the armor just in case,” he said. “Let me know what you find out.”

  We got back in the car, and Chase pulled out into traffic.

  “I can’t imagine whose armor that could be. Everyone I know with personal armor has some kind of animal like a wolf or a bear. Who’d want a thistle?”

  “Someone who knew what it meant, obviously.” I studied the picture of the engraving on my cell phone. “We’ll see if Daisy knows the answer. If not, we’ll go for the Big Book of Knights.”

  “The Big Book of Knights.” He nodded. “You have to get special permission for that.”

  “I think I can manage it.” I thought about Daisy and Bart. That would be one good thing I could leave behind in this place.

  Would this Village still be here when I was gone? That was a question that made me feel crazy. Would there be another Jessie, or would Chase be alone, wondering what had happened to me? I would have to ask my fairy godmother when I saw her again.

  The Village was crowded when we got back. The line for the hatchet throw snaked down a few blocks away from the game. Women were cooling themselves with pretty painted fans as they waited in line for their turn. Even though the afternoons were hot, many visitors came after spending the morning at the beach. It was our best time of day.

  “I have to get changed and get up to the field for the joust,” Chase said as we reached the castle. “You could wait to look at this until I get back.”

  “Or maybe I can find the killer, and we’ll celebrate tonight.”

  “That sounds promising too. Just watch your back. Both of these murders have taken place during the day with hundreds of people around. Stay safe.”

  “You too.” I kissed him. “Watch your front too.”

  We went our separate ways. I found Daisy at her sword shop, working on a complex design for an expensive sword hilt. I told her about the thistle and she looked at her records.

  “I’ve never encountered that one before.” She shook her head. “Looks like we’ll have to see Bart.”

  “You sound happy about it.”

  “He’s a big fella.” She grinned. “I like ‘em big.”

  We laughed as we started back along the cobblestones. Her shop, Swords and Such, was part of Armorer’s Alley, a group of shops that specialized in armor and weaponry. It was close to the Field of Honor. I could hear the loud Huzzahs! from there.

  But then people started screaming. I took a quick look at Daisy and turned back to cut through the alley to reach the Field of Honor faster. She followed behind me at a slower speed, huffing anyway. Daisy had strong arms but wasn’t much of a sprinter.

  Something was wrong. My sense of alarm was born out when hundreds of people came running from the field. A few of them were nearly trampled beneath the feet of those trying to get away. I helped as many as I could and then left the rest to Daisy. I was concerned about Chase.

  I saw at once what the problem was. One of the knights—possibly the one facing Chase in the joust—had lost control of his horse and had plunged into the spectators. The sheer weight and force of the galloping animal had snapped the fence and destroyed the first few rows of bleachers. It looked as though visitors were trapped in what was left.

  My radio squawked out a warning. Better late than never, I supposed. I scanned the field, searching for Chase. I saw his horse, and the squire leading it away, but there was no sign of him.

  I headed toward the spectators. A few had cuts and scrapes. There was some blood on the ground. The horse might have been the one with the worst injuries. The large gray mare was on her side, possibly with broken forelegs. I wasn’t a vet, but I immediately called for the vet on duty who worked at the field.

  That was when I saw Chase. He was under the bleachers handing injured people out to others who could get them away from the scene. He had two chubby, blond toddlers in his big arms. They were crying, but he was intent on trying to get their minds off what had happened by joking with them and making funny faces.

  I smiled. This was my Chase. I knew he was in there somewhere.

  Everyone who worked for the Village was trying to help out. Jugglers, knaves, and squires were all pitching in. It was wonderful to see everyone together, trying to make a difference.

  Canyon showed up as he walked alongside the ambulance making sure everyone stayed out of the way. The Bailiff’s job, to be sure, but I didn’t feel like arguing the point.

  Daisy and I were with four frightened children who’d lost their parents in the mad flight to get away from the horse.

  “Should we take them to the police?” She was holding a crying two-year-old in her arms.

  “I’m sure they’ll come to us. The parents are bound to notice they’re missing soon. I think we should stay where we are.”

  She swiveled her head, searching the crowd that was building instead of getting smaller. “How do you run away and not take your kid?”

  I saw one parent running toward us with tears streaming down her face. She was holding one young boy’s hand and had a baby in a pack on her chest.

  “I guess that’s how.” I nodded toward her.

  The mother was so relieved to find her young daughter. “Thank you so much. I thought she was with me. She’s not hurt, is she?”

  “No. She seems fine. Paramedics will be here in a moment if you’d like to have them take a look at her.” I pointed to the ambulance that was slowly making its way toward us.

  All the missing parents showed up, the other three sets with less reason to have lost their children, but I tried not to judge. It had to be a terrifying moment when the horse jumped into the bleachers. Panic made people do strange things.

  A few of the visitors were swearing they would sue the Village. That was nothing new. If a person broke a fingernail while they were here, they were likely to get a lawyer and file a lawsuit. That was modern America encroaching into our Renaissance world.

  After I was relieved of my childcare responsibilities, I went to find Chase. He was with his young opponent, the Village vet, and the injured horse. The would-be knight was crying more than any of the parents who’d misplaced their children.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked Chase.

  The horse was still down while the vet carefully examined her.

  “We think so. It doesn’t look like she broke anything—except the bleachers.” Chase put his arm around me. “Everything else okay?”

  “Yes. People came back for their children. I didn’t see more than some cuts and bruises, but you never know. I’m glad that’s not part of my job to decide who’s really hurt and who’s faking it.”

  “She’s a little bruised, but she’s going to be fine,” the vet told the young man who’d been riding the mare.

  “I shouldn’t have brought her here. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He wiped tears from his face.

  “Excuse me.” Chase kissed the side of my head and went to speak with the young man.

  The problem seemed to be that the horse hadn’t come from our stable. The rider had brought her with him. This kind of thing happened sometimes when the rider and horse weren’t approved before going on the field. Only an experienced rider and a well-trained horse should have been out there jousting, but it happened sometimes in my Village too.

  And maybe the mare and her rider were both well-trained, but strange things occurred that couldn’t be planned for. I’d seen it plenty of times.

  Chase wanted to stay and help with cleanup. The field was shut down. No more jousts that day. I was eager to see the Big Book of Knights and find out who the killer was. Daisy offered to come with me. Even though I knew she and Bart were bound to end up together, I was still surprised by her eagerness to flirt with him.

  “What? You don’t think an older broad li
ke me can get some kicks out of finding a new lover?” She winked and grinned. “Better think again.”

  “Do I hear wedding bells in the future? I love big Renaissance weddings.”

  “Save it for yourself, Jessie. I was married once. I’m not doing it again. Not the marrying kind, I guess. Did I ever tell you I have a kid? He didn’t grow up with me. What do I know about raising a child? But I’ve always kept my eye on him. I knew about him even if he didn’t know about me.”

  I pretended to be surprised, but in my Village, Daisy’s son worked with her at Swords and Such. So did Bart. And he never wore a suit and tie.

  But I wasn’t here to correct that problem. Chase was in love with me and well on his way to becoming the next Bailiff. All we needed now was the killer in jail. That should be enough to send me home.

  Thousands of people were streaming out of the Village after the incident at the Field of Honor. No doubt most of them didn’t even know what had happened. They were just reacting to seeing the police cars and the ambulance rolling down the cobblestones. Nothing like that kind of reality to ruin a day in the Renaissance.

  “Probably just as well they’re getting out of here.” Daisy looked up at the sky. “I think a storm is brewing.”

  I agreed with her, seeing the flashes of lightning in the clouds coming toward us.

  “We better move if we want to get to the castle before we get soaked.”

  “This is the only speed I have,” she told me.

  “You were running back there at the field,” I teased her.

  “And that was my exercise for the day. Maybe for the week. These little legs weren’t meant for running. But you run on if you want. I’ll see you when I get there. Just don’t talk to Bart. You’ve already got your man.”

  I didn’t leave her. Daisy and I were good friends in either Village. I enjoyed talking to her about her work. We discussed whether or not I should let Canyon go back to being Bailiff again.

  “He does a good job,” she said. “As long as he doesn’t have to think too much.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if Canyon was the same in my Village. Had I missed that when I’d hired him, or was it just that he was different here?

  Gus was at the castle door like always. He was on his best behavior as a group of school kids were touring the castle. I was surprised to see Isabelle leading that tour. I’d never known her to do anything that useful.

  She stared at me in a cold, calculated kind of way. I didn’t blame her—I had stolen Chase from her. I’d probably feel the same way if our positions were reversed.

  “You’re lucky she doesn’t have laser vision,” Daisy remarked after we passed the tour group. “You’d be burned up by now.”

  “I know. But she’ll get over it. There’s always another prince or lord who wants her.”

  “People could’ve said that about you a few years back too.”

  “Yeah. But not since I fell in love with Chase. He’s it now.”

  We’d reached Bart’s office. Daisy fussed with her hair and asked me how she looked. She looked as she always did—like a pretty, chubby doll. I knocked on the door when she was ready, and we confronted Bart’s secretary in the tiny outer office.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I lied. “I’m the Bailiff. He’s expecting me.”

  The secretary buzzed us through the door. Bart was behind his desk, but he wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead he’d found a forest green doublet and brown britches that barely reached his knees. He had a leather jerkin and belt over the doublet. He didn’t look like the same person.

  “Come in. Come in.” He heaved himself up from the chair and came to greet us—Daisy in particular. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  When had all this happened? I was happy for them but amazed that he’d changed so completely since yesterday.

  Daisy smiled up at him. “You look so much better in those clothes. I can’t tell you.”

  “You like them?” He peered down at himself. “It was Jessie. She suggested it. I never thought about dressing this way. I thought I should wear a suit even though this is Renaissance Village.”

  “You look great,” I said. But he only had eyes for Daisy.

  The couple stared at one another as they held hands. I didn’t want to be the one to disturb them, but I really wanted to take a look at the Big Book of Knights.

  Daisy finally snapped out of it. “Oh. That’s right. We’re here to see the Big Book of Knights. Jessie found a Scottish thistle sigil in the armor the police confiscated. You know anyone who uses that?”

  “Not me. I glanced through the book, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I’d rather read an electronic copy than one made of paper.”

  “Does this go all the way back to the start of the Village?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ll get it for you.” He sighed when he looked back at Daisy. “You look beautiful today. I wonder if I could take you out for dinner.”

  “Sure thing.” She grinned. “I love free meals.”

  “Me too.”

  I had to pull them apart as they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes, but it was nice to see them together at last.

  The Big Book of Knights was really big. It was aptly named for a weighty tome. I wasn’t sure who had started recording all the knights from the Village, their sigils, weapons, and who they fought for. It had to be a huge undertaking.

  “There you are.” Bart opened the black, leather-bound book on a podium. “It has to stay here for security reasons, and I’m afraid the spine would break if you tried to move it.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t mind looking through it here.”

  Bart and Daisy adjourned to his office. I stayed in the library/computer room with the Big Book of Knights.

  In the beginning, someone had large, round handwriting and wrote dozens of pages about each knight. It not only included who they were and their sigil, but also their favorite foods and what they wore. There was enough information to use as a dissertation all by itself.

  After the first dozen or so knights, someone else took over the responsibility for the book. This person carefully printed the information and limited it to what really mattered for the knight’s history.

  Even so, it was difficult to follow. The information skipped around from knight to knight. Sometimes I wasn’t sure which knight it was talking about.

  The next historian was even briefer. They listed the knight’s name, sigil, and who they fought for in a clear concise style. There were no dates. I couldn’t tell which knights were still there at the Village, if any.

  I was surprised to see Roger’s name in the list. He’d jousted for a summer after becoming a police officer. It was probably a hobby for him. I knew he liked horses. Most of the knights did. His sigil was a gryphon. No wonder he’d named his shop the Glass Gryphon.

  Most of the sigils were strong animals such as large birds, lions, tigers and even an elephant. Some were magical creatures such as dragons and wizards. There was one knight, Sir Francis, whose sigil was a unicorn. I’d never met him, but I felt sure he was an interesting person.

  The knights that had been at the Village when I’d first started coming were mostly gone. I recognized a few names, though many of them had opened shops in the Village and stopped jousting.

  My brother, Tony, was listed there too. His sigil was a hawk. I knew he’d jousted for a while. I’d never even known he had a sigil—or his own armor. How had he afforded it?

  Sir Dwayne, who had been one of Isabelle’s many lovers, had a jackal as a sigil. Sir Marcus Bishop, who had fought for the queen in many jousts, used the wolf sigil.

  I finally had my ‘AH-HA!’ moment when I found a knight who used the Scottish thistle as his sigil. And then, just as quickly, I was deflated.

  Daisy and Bart were kissing in his office. I ignored them.

  “I thought there was only one knight per sigil. There are two knights with the Scottish thistle. What’s u
p with that?”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Daisy sat up and blinked at me. Bart completely ignored me.

  “That’s not possible. It was never supposed to be that way.”

  “Take a look in the Big Book of Knights,” I invited. “Two men share the Scottish thistle.”

  Bart grudgingly got up and followed us into the library/computer room. All three of us studied the book.

  “She’s right,” he said. “Sir Reginald uses the thistle, and so did Lord Dunstable.”

  “But Dunstable hasn’t jousted in years,” Daisy argued.

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill the fairy and the squire wearing his old armor,” I said. “Sir Reginald shouldn’t be jousting anymore either. He’s getting kind of old for it.”

  “There isn’t an age restriction on participating in Village events,” Bart said. “A lord or lady could joust until they were ninety, if they so desired.”

  “Which doesn’t really solve my problem,” I reminded the two love birds. “Which man is responsible for the murders?”

  Sir Reginald and Lord Dunstable had already been at the Village for years when I’d first visited. Both men were large and probably strong enough to strangle Apple Blossom and the young squire. They both lived in the castle. It was difficult to say which man could also be a killer.

  “Neither of them,” Bart said. “I’ve worked with both of them in my daily routines. While they might both be arrogant, and sometimes set in their ways, neither man is a killer.”

  “But the thistle was engraved in the armor, sweetie,” Daisy reminded him. “It has to be one of them. I think either one would consider himself above the fray enough to get rid of someone if they wanted to.”

  “It’s just an engraving,” he said. “Any sigil could be engraved in a suit of armor. I know these men. They aren’t killers.”

  “I guess I have to side with Daisy. Whoever killed these people knew the Village very well. Lord Dunstable and Sir Reginald are brazen enough to consider doing it during the day around thousands of people. That takes a special kind of person.”

  “How are you going to know which man it was?” Daisy asked.