I was packing up for the day when I got an e-mail from Ana Maria, my dad's wife. She was forwarding a letter about my dad's immigration status. I felt my stomach knot up with nerves and excitement. The three of us had been waiting for a decision from INS for a while, but my dad and Ana Maria had been waiting two years, ever since they'd gotten married. The way they'd met wasn't exactly romantic and was certainly strange enough to give any immigration agent pause. When my dad was being held in detention at Guantanamo Bay, Ana Maria had been stationed there as a translator and they had fallen in love. They married in Nicaragua, after he was exiled there. Because Ana Maria was an American citizen, she was entitled to apply for a visa for her new husband, which she did, but since they had never lived together, it was difficult to prove they had a legitimate marriage. Throw in the fact that my dad had been deported from the States thirty-five years earlier for political reasons and you can understand why we were worried. If we didn't get a decision soon, Ana Maria and I were planning to go to Nicaragua for a visit. I'd already lost so much time with my dad; I didn't want to lose any more.Aside from the attachment, the e-mail contained only one word, "¡Esperanza!" Hope. That sounded promising, but when I opened the attachment, all I could see was that the application was still pending. I was so disappointed that I almost missed the last sentence: "You may expect a decision within a week." A week! That was a reason to hope--as long as I didn't let despair sneak in. I was well aware that if the application were denied, we didn't have a back-up plan. There was no point in dwelling on it. In my experience, worrying never changed anything, except maybe the color of my hair.
I e-mailed Ana Maria just two words, "Fingers crossed!" and then locked up my office to go home. I had a cranky cat to feed and a lot of sleep to catch up on.
Chapter 12
Before I knew it, it was Saturday and time to head out to the Ren-Fest. Kip had stayed over Friday night as we had plans to go out, but he was so tired from his rough week that we opted for quality couch time instead, complete with take-out from China Star and a movie. Well, I watched the movie and Kip fell asleep with his head on my lap about two minutes in. He didn't miss much, just your basic chick flick (or is it a rom-com?). I've already forgotten the name of it.
I woke up feeling jumpy and nervous, which isn't the best way to start a fun-filled day with your favorite guy, but I don't like crowds (they rank right behind rats on my list of phobias) and I was feeling a bit queasy besides. I couldn't blame my malaise on General Tso's Tofu I'm afraid; the truth is I was worried about running into our stalker. How could I possibly enjoy myself under those circumstances? If I was concerned that it would be a less-than-fantastic day, then that made one of us because, while I was moping around being 'Debbie Downer', Kip was practically bouncing off the walls.
"What do you want to do first, Jamie?" he asked, smearing cream cheese on his bagel with real enthusiasm. Kip mashed the bagel halves together before taking a loud crunchy bite. "There's music, mud wrestling, jousting…Would you mind checking the schedule online? I don't want to miss the good stuff!"
With his hair sticking up all over creation and an excited grin on his face, Kip looked like a kid going to the County Fair, his pockets stuffed with enough money for all the rides and a big cotton candy. He was so adorable, I had to smile. I felt my shoulders release their tension and the rest of my body follow suit. As usual, I'd been overreacting. What could possibly happen at a crowded fair? Duke would be there for moral support and Broward Sheriff's officers had been hired to provide security, 'to thwart any evil-doers of the realm keen on mischief-making or mayhem'.
I snuck up behind Kip's chair and when he reached for another bagel, I pushed the plate out of reach.
"Hey--can't a guy get some breakfast around here? Not sure I like this hotel."
I kissed the top of his head. "It's time to get thee to the Renaissance Festival, anon."
He turned around in his chair to give me a squeeze. "Hip Hip Huzzah to that!"
***
We arrived just as the Festival was opening for the day so it wasn't difficult to park. The difficulty came later in trying to reach the gate. At least fifty protesters waving placards were walking around in circles shouting something we couldn't hear. A couple of cops were standing off to the side just watching.
I turned to Kip, "What the heck is going on?"
Undaunted, he didn't break stride as we approached the gate. "That's PETA. They always show up at the festival to protest, it's no big deal."
I was confused. "The animal rights activists? But why are they protesting here?"
"Read the posters and find out. If you want to know more," Kip said with a chuckle, "I'm sure they'd love to chat with you."
With his arm around my shoulders, he steered me through the crowd as my head swiveled back and forth reading the signs
"Stop animal abuse!"
"Shackles hurt!"
"Free the Elephant!"
"Wait a sec," I said. "There's an elephant?"
Kip nodded. "Yup. And tomorrow there's going to be a camel."
I was confused. "But…why?"
"You'll see," he said.
"You're being vague and unhelpful. Don't camels spit?"
He laughed. "Only the rude ones."
The ticket booth was located in a small but impressive castle with a pair of matching turrets. In front of the faux wooden doors were two knights on horseback each clad in bright colors to match their noble steed. They greeted us with a flourish saying, "Good day to you, Sir, and to you, Milady." I had to admit, that was a nice touch. Once we were inside, Kip picked up a schedule of events and paid our admission to a girl with pointed ears and beautiful gossamer wings. I couldn't imagine how she dressed the rest of the year.
"So, what do you think?" Kip asked with a grand sweep of his arm, the proud ringmaster showing off his star performers.
I looked around in amazement. I'd been to all kinds of festivals before: art festivals, seafood festivals, Cajun festivals, Jazz Festivals, Blues Festivals, Scottish Festivals, Irish Festivals, Oktoberfest, The Garlic Festival (with its memorable garlic ice cream), and Christmas on Las Olas, but I'd never seen anything like this. The park had been divided into stages and booths and enormous tented areas complete with colorful banners and archaic signposts. There was the Falconer Area, the Mud Pit, the Globe Stage, the Enchanted Forest, the Minstrel Hall and the Pirate Ship. Quirky little shops (shoppes) in the Village Market area sold candles and magic tricks, musical instruments of all kinds, lotions and potions, mythical beasts blown from delicate glass, leather goods, metal art, costumes, fairy wings, woodcraft, weaponry, and 'things for your castle'. You could have your face painted, your ears elongated or your hair styled like the fairy queen. You could take lessons in fencing, lute-playing, even dragon-slaying. In addition to the typical festival fare, there were roasted turkey legs and mead, a drink made from fermented honey.
"Guess what I'm having for lunch," Kip said.
I shook my head. "Not happening, buddy.
You are not eating chocolate-covered bacon while I'm around. Not if you ever want another kiss from me."
Kip laughed and pointed to a sign off in the distance that said 'Ride the Royal Elephant'. He nudged me with his elbow, "Hey Jamie, how about it? Want to go for a little ride?"
"Ha! That's a good one. But you can go if you want and I'll take your picture."
He shook his head in mock despair. "At this rate, you'll never have any interesting stories to tell your grandchildren."
"At least I'll live long enough to have grandchildren," I said, smugly.
I glanced at my watch, wondering where Duke was; he said he'd meet us by the entrance. Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I whirled around to find myself face to face with a pirate dressed all in black. I stumbled backwards with a startled squeak. Don't think for a minute that I'd forgotten about our stalker.
"Jeez, Jamie," a familiar voice admonished me. "You act like you've never seen a pir
ate before."
"Duke?"
I took in the black boots and fake sword, the puffy pants and equally puffy shirt with a sash tied around the waist. There was stubble on his face and a bandanna on his head that was knotted in the back, his brown hair hanging in a ponytail. He looked good.
"Of course it's me, Darlin', who else is it gonna be?" He snickered.
"Well, how did I know you'd be coming in costume? Oh sorry, Kip, this is Duke. Duke, meet Kip."
Kip shook Duke's hand enthusiastically, while Duke appeared to be sizing Kip up.
"We really appreciate you helping us out," Kip said. "Jamie tells me you're an awesome P.I. A great friend, too," he added.
I punched my boyfriend lightly on the shoulder. "Don't lie to the man. I never said any of that." I grinned at Duke. "What's with the pirate outfit, Blackbeard?"
"I told you, Ms. Esquire," he said, "I'm a professional. I got to blend into the crowd and become part of the scenery, so I can catch the bastard that's followin' you two around."
"Excellent!" I said, "Later on, you can enter the 'best dressed pirate' contest. It's at 2:00."
"I might just do that," Duke laughed. "But first, I'll buy myself a tankard of ale."
"I'm sure you can find a pirate wench to drink it with," I added.
Duke laughed. Kip was watching us curiously--as if he'd never seen two smartasses in one place before.
Suddenly serious, Duke said, "Okay, I'll be close by, but don’t pay any attention to me. If you don't see me for a while, it means I'm following a lead. Or hittin' the head, or whatever." He laughed. "I'll check in from time to time, so try to act normal. Or just do the best you can," he said, with a nod in my direction. Then he was gone.
Kip laughed and shook his head. "That guy is somethin' else, what a character! He seems pretty protective of you."
"What can I say? Rescuing damsels in distress is his thing and probably why he became a P.I. in the first place. Duke's like the brother I never had, the one who was always in trouble, you know, the black sheep."
Kip took my hand and we started walking towards the shops. "A brother, huh?"
"More like a distant cousin," I said, smiling.
The weather was perfect, the Ren-Fest looked like fun, and Kip and I were spending the day together. What could be better than that? I wasn't nervous anymore. I-C-U's threat seemed ethereal, comprised of nothing, its dark promise collapsing under the sun's bright scrutiny.
Several hours passed quickly. The falconer impressed us with his falcon's tricks; Christophe the Insulter told Kip that even his dog hates him; and we enjoyed a jousting match between battling knights that kicked up a lot of sand and drew cheers from the crowd. There were artists and dancers and musicians and magicians, even a sword-swallower, we didn't have time to see it all. Half the entertainment was in watching the crowd, since most of the people were in costume--and not all of the costumes were G-rated. As Kip put it, he saw more cleavage that day than the average park ranger hopes to see in a lifetime.
As we ate lunch at "The Fat Friar's," I could see the elephant off in the distance. It certainly looked tame enough; there were two kids riding it. The elephant was shackled on one leg (PETA did warn us) as the attendant walked him around and around in a circle. My thoughts were interrupted by a hand reaching into my basket of fries.
"Dang Jamie, why didn't you tell me about this place before?"
Duke was busy shoveling fries, my fries, into his mouth as fast as he could. He was reaching for more when I slapped his wrist.
"Hey," I said, goofing around, "No news, no fries.
Kip laughed and offered Duke his.
"Girl, who said I don't have news? I got plenty. In fact, I've cracked this case wide open."
"Says the man in the pirate costume. What did you find, Duke?" I asked.
"It's not a what, it's a who," he answered coyly.
"Who did you find?" Kip leaned across the table, his eyes fixed on Duke.
"Nobody special. Just the guy who's been following you all over town."
Chapter 13
I sat there for a minute, speechless. Duke had done it, he'd found Mr. I-C-U! I owed him big time.
"His name is Malcolm," Duke said, nonchalantly. "Malcolm Armstrong. He wanted me to tell you it was nothin' personal."
"Nothing personal?" I was fuming.
Kip spoke up. "Threatening someone's girlfriend isn't personal? Is he nuts?"
"Now hold your horses, you two. I never said Malcolm threatened you, I said he followed you. Sure, he took those pictures--but that's all he did."
"Are you saying he's not I-C-U?" Kip asked.
"Nah, he's a P.I. like me. He doesn't even know who hired him. He got all his instructions by e-mail and text and the money was deposited right into his account. When I told him his pictures were being used to commit a crime, that he could go to jail, he flipped out, said he was through. Then he texted somebody and took off."
I felt stupid. It had never occurred to me that I-C-U would hire someone to stalk us. In my imagination, a criminal mastermind had been lurking around every corner, setting traps for us, laughing diabolically the whole time. Instead, it was just a guy like Duke trying to make a few extra bucks.
Kip was frowning. "What's the next step? Good work, by the way."
Duke beamed at the compliment. "I was thinkin' we should--"
Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of people screaming and shouting. A huge commotion had broken out on the far side of the festival--something was going on with the elephant!
"I'd better check it out." Kip was already on his feet, running in that direction.
I stopped a man walking by with his two kids in tow.
"Excuse me," I said, "Do you know what's going on?"
"Someone said the elephant went berserk!" he said. The kids nodded their heads excitedly.
Duke and I exchanged a look. "Well, come on," he said. "I don't want to miss an elephant goin' berserk."
Two BSO deputies ran past us, their walkie-talkies blaring, and a siren shrilled off in the distance. Suddenly, there was an ear-piercing scream from a wooded area to the left of us.
"I changed my mind," Duke said. "We're going that way.
"We had to push our way through throngs of medieval onlookers and disoriented fairies. Whereas before it had been entertaining to people-watch, now it was just surreal, like a Fellini film. Once we reached the trees, we stopped because there was a body sprawled on the ground. He was African-American, in his mid-twenties, and his lips had a bluish tinge to them. He was definitely dead. The young woman who had discovered him was standing there crying, her hand over her mouth. People were starting to gather around.
"Dammit!" Duke said, shaking his head sadly.
"Do you know him?" I whispered, unnerved in the presence of death.
"Yeah, that's Malcolm."
Chapter 14
"Oh my God! I-C-U killed him!" I screamed. "This is bad, this is really bad."
My hands were shaking and I was headed for a total breakdown when I suddenly found myself pulled into a familiar embrace, a soothing voice in my ear.
"Calm down, Jamie, everything's going to be okay. Just breathe."
"But, Kip, it's I-C-U, he killed this poor guy, this is Malcolm! And that psycho is still out there, what are we going to do?"
"First of all," Kip said, "We don't know that he killed Malcolm, we don't even know if this was a murder. It could've been an accident, a heart attack, even a suicide--who knows? We need more information. Duke, what do you think? Help me out here."
Duke scratched his stubbly chin.
"Hard to say what happened. There's no blood or wounds that I can see, no blood on the ground either, but that don't mean nothin', he could've been stabbed in the back or have a gunshot wound somewhere. See how his lips are blue? He wasn't getting enough oxygen, but there's no mark on his neck so he wasn't strangled.
"Impressive, Duke," I said, "Did you learn all that in P.I. school?"
Duke shook his head. "There's no P.I. school, Jamie. And if there was, I would've been the one skipping class. I just watch a hell of a lot of TV, that's all."
"Everybody back up, paramedics coming through," an authoritative voice behind me commanded. We did as we were told, except for Kip, who moved in closer and tapped the lead paramedic, a burly redhead, on the shoulder.
"I'm the parks director, Kip Simons, and I'll need a copy of the medical examiner's report. My boss already got the okay for it."
The redhead rolled his eyes at bureaucracy in general and Kip in particular and then said, "Whatever, man. Give me your card and I'll take care of it."
After he'd fished a business card out of his wallet and handed it over, Kip told us what he knew about Taj, the elephant.
"The trainer was taking a smoke break while Taj rested between rides when he heard Taj start trumpeting. He raced over to her, but she was so agitated that she was rearing up and trying to break free. It took a long time to settle her down. He said that if she hadn't been chained up, she would've stampeded for sure. The only witness is a PETA guy named Francis who was hiding in the bushes taking notes. I know the guy, he's a real whacko, calls himself 'St. Francis' because he thinks he's the patron saint of animals. It's not clear yet if he's a witness or the person responsible, but he's been going nuts, carrying on and threatening to sue everybody. The cops are taking him in for questioning and my boss wants me to be there. He said the commissioners are canceling the Ren-Fest until we know what happened, which stinks. This is my new favorite place and now I have to shut it down."
He turned to me. "Sorry, Jamie, this isn't the date I had planned."
"I know," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "It's alright. The first half was really fun and I'm trying not to think about the second half. You go to the police station; I'm sure Duke will give me a ride home."
Peril in the Park: A Jamie Quinn Mystery Page 4