A Corpse for Yew

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  Epilogue

  PEGGY AND STEVE WERE THE last ones to arrive at Sir Edmund Halley’s Restaurant and Freehouse behind the Park Road Shopping Center. Steve had come from a last-minute emergency involving a guinea pig stuck in his food bowl, and Peggy had come from her first drought workshop. They’d met in the parking lot.

  “How’d it go?” Steve asked her.

  “Great! We had a packed house. All those nice ladies from the Shamrock Historical Society brought their friends and neighbors. They listened to what I had to say, then bought everything I had that related to plants and dry weather. Sam sold five new water reclamation units.”

  “Excellent!” Steve took her hand. “Are we ready for this?”

  “Yes. I’ve thought of almost nothing else the last few days. I’m ready.”

  “I’m amazed you could squeeze me in between drought perennials and catching killers. You must really care about me.”

  She kissed him right there in the parking lot. “I care a lot, sir.”

  “Then let’s face the music.” He smiled as they began walking toward the restaurant.

  A sizable crowd had gathered by the time they walked through the front door. Peggy’s father jumped to his feet and raised his glass of Guinness to the couple when he saw them. “To Margaret and Steve!”

  The rest of the group joined him in the toast that brought tears to Peggy’s eyes. Everyone who mattered had managed to be there. Paul had his arm around Mai. Jonathon raised his glass with his left hand, his right hand captured by a pretty brunette.

  The Shamrock Historical Society was trying to teach Al and his wife, Mary, how to dance the way they had a hundred years ago. There was even a bagpiper whose music contrasted sharply with the background sounds.

  “We thought you’d decided to elope,” Peggy’s mother said. “Where were you?”

  “Don’t answer that,” her father advised. “No more personal questions. You two go off and do whatever you feel like doing. You’re adults. You’ve earned it.”

  Steve’s friend Skipper introduced his wife, Barbara, to Peggy. “Don’t pay any attention to whatever she tells you I do wrong,” he said. “Steve will back me up that I’m nearly perfect.”

  Barbara shook Peggy’s hand and kissed Steve’s cheek. “You’re not, but Steve is. Congratulations, Peggy. I know the two of you will be very happy together.”

  A few of the women coaxed their male escorts out on the dance floor and convinced the bagpiper to play something romantic. Steve took Peggy’s hand and drew her to the dance floor, not needing to be coaxed. “This looks pretty good, huh? Is there some old Southern folklore about a good engagement party leading to a good marriage?”

  “I think there is. Especially for us.” She smiled up at him and closed her eyes. It was going to be all right, she realized, accepting the wishes for future happiness. She had turned the page.

  Peggy’s Garden Journal

  Fall / drought

  All of North Carolina has been stuck in a drought for more than a year. Historically, it was too soon for another drought for us, since we just had one in 2002. The weather patterns seem to be changing, not just here but in other places across the world. Water is becoming a much more valuable resource than any of us had ever thought. The days of taking it for granted are over.

  As gardeners, we’re aware that planting in our yards may not be as important as farmers’ food crops and drinking water. But that doesn’t mean we want to give up what we love. We have to be smarter, and choose vegetables, fruits, and ornamentals that will weather drier conditions. Many times, this is only a matter of planting natives that are used to changes our areas have seen for many years. These plants are tough and have seen droughts before.

  We can help them by using better soils and mulching to protect them from the sun and help them to better use the water we give them.

  I hope you’ll find the information in this journal useful for your own gardens.

  Happy gardening!

  Drought-resistant perennials

  Perennials are a favorite in any garden. They are hardier than annuals in most cases, and they come back year after year.

  Some drought-resistant perennials that sip water and still keep going are yucca, asters, geraniums, daylilies, and Shasta daisies. Most herbs don’t require much moisture so long as they are mulched well. Liatris, black-eyed Susan, sunflowers, and poppies are all drought-hardy plants.

  Increase your chances of success

  To increase your chances of a successful summer garden, despite a lack of rain, try these suggestions:

  • Apply water slowly to the bases of plants. This will reduce water usage by half.

  • Check soil moisture regularly. If soil clumps together, it is moist and doesn’t need water.

  • Water in the morning, when temperatures are cool, for less moisture loss. Evaporation accounts for 75 percent of moisture loss in the afternoon.

  • Mulch your garden to minimize moisture loss from the soil surface. Use an organic mulch at least one inch deep. Grass clippings make a great mulch for your garden. Apply fresh clippings in thin layers (up to 1/4 inch thick) and allow each layer to dry before adding more.

  • Black or colored plastic will conserve moisture and increase soil temperature. Lay down plastic early in the season.

  • Avoid vegetables like beans, sweet corn, melons, squash, and cucumbers. They are heavy water users.

  • Grow only what you need. One or two tomato plants can yield enough tomatoes for a family.

  • Consider planting a couple of containers with vegetables. Containers are easier to water by hand if that becomes necessary.

  • Buy prepared soil with hydrogel crystals to conserve water in the soil.

  • Grass is not always the best ground cover during dry spells. Try ivy, periwinkle, or clover. These plants and others will cover your yard and are able to survive drought times.

  • Talk to local agriculture officials to learn about plants that are native to your area. Be sure to buy them from garden centers rather than rip them out from alongside the road, so the plant continues in the wild.

  Be creative!

  Catch water in a barrel or trash can when it rains. Save water that runs while you’re waiting for hot water from the tap. Save water from showers that would otherwise go down the drain. Check to see if your area allows “gray water” from baths and dishwater to be used on plants during droughts.

  Links to help get you through the drought

  www.eartheasy.com/grow_xeriscape.htm

  http://landscaping.about.com/cs/cheaplandscaping1/a/xeriscaping.htm

  www.arts4all.com/elca/page3.html

  www.thisoldhouse.com/toh/photos/0,,1213573,00.html

  A nice place to visit: The Creative Little Garden

  The Creative Little Garden is a great place to visit if you’re in New York City and looking for a nice green spot in the midst of all that concrete. It’s located on East Sixth Street, between Avenues A and B. The garden has been here in the East Village for twenty-five years. It is a community garden tended by volunteers who collaborate on the landscaping. Take a peek at www.creativelittlegarden.org.

  Turn the page for a preview of the next book

  in the Renaissance Faire Mysteries

  by Joyce and Jim Lavene . . .

  Ghastly Glass

  Coming soon from Berkley Prime Crime!

  “HEAR YE! HEAR YE! DEATH stalks the streets of Renaissance Village. Run for your lives.”

  “Would it hurt him to add some inflection?” A fairy, waiting in the costume line ahead of me, rolled her eyes and watched the Village crier go by on the cobblestone street.

  “I’ll add some inflection, Dearie,” the little man in the dwarf costume responded as he walked by, “when you take some acting lessons.”

  Standing between them was making me nervous. The Black Dwarf, alias Marcus Fleck, was holding a long pole with a swinging lantern on one end. It was pointed at me instead of the fairy.
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  “Acting lessons?” the fairy shot back, her translucent wings quivering. “I’ve been in dinner theaters across the South.”

  He snorted. “So has roast beef. What’s your point?”

  The fairy (I’m not sure if I know her. Fairies all look the same to me) made a noise somewhere between a screech and a howl. “I’ll show you my point, little man!” She threatened the dwarf, long, red fingernails poised in his direction.

  I was still standing between them. “Could you take this somewhere else?” I was hoping for a quick resolution to the problem since it looked like rain and I was still a good twenty minutes from the inside of the costume shop.

  This was the first year that Renaissance Village in Myrtle Beach was decking itself out for Halloween. I’d wrangled and made promises to everyone but the devil to be here for an eight-week sabbatical to continue my research on Renaissance crafts. Of course, I could’ve done it next summer, and probably still will, but I really wanted to be there for Halloween. I’d heard terrible tales of all the fantastic stuff the Village theme makers had lined up for the season. I couldn’t wait!

  “Jessie!” A former student of mine at the University of South Carolina at Columbia, where I was teaching and working on my PhD, hailed me. Debby had dropped out during the last semester to work here full-time. Some people came to the Village and couldn’t go home again. “I was wondering when you were going to get here. We’re roomies!”

  She hugged me, and I absently patted her shoulder. I looked around at the crowds of actors and students ready to trade in their traditional Renaissance Village garb of knaves, varlets, wenches, and ladies for their special Halloween costumes.

  I’d hoped to see Chase here. Actually, I’d hoped he’d be waiting at the gate with breathless anticipation for my arrival. He was the Village bailiff but also my main man since July. I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. Those promises and commitments to be here for the next two months had really dragged me down for awhile. But I was firm in my determination that he was probably, hopefully, still my man. You never know for sure. A few weeks can be a lifetime.

  I was hoping not to need a roomie or Village housing because I’d be staying with Chase. But maybe not. I wouldn’t know for sure until I saw him, hopefully not wrapped around some smug little fairy or one of the storybook characters that inhabited this full-time Renaissance Village.

  “I’m glad to see you, too.” I smiled at Debby. The line for costumes had moved closer to the shop and the Black Dwarf had moved on with his cheery message.

  But in fact, the Village crier was right about Death stalking the Village. I was looking right at him. He seemed to be following the Black Dwarf, complete with black robe and huge scythe. He was Death incarnate. He was tall, too. Or on stilts.

  Debby laughed at me as I couldn’t take my eyes from the character. “You just got here, right? Let me introduce Ross, or as we like to call him, Mr. Big.” She turned to the spectacularly frightening figure of Death. “Ross DeMilo, meet my good friend, Jessie Morton, of late apprenticed to Mary Shift at Wicked Weaves. Jessie, this is Ross. And he’s gonna get you if you don’t watch out.”

  Ross pulled back his black hood, frowning at me. His brown hair was greased back from his narrow, skull-shaped face. He wasn’t on stilts. He was just tall and thin, his ribs showing beneath his black Renaissance Village T-shirt.

  “Welcome to Renaissance Village, a horrible place to live but a worse place to die. I am Death, the original dark stalker. My scythe will separate your body from your soul.”

  As terrifying speeches went, it was pretty good. He had a deep, John Carradine voice that added a certain monster charm that worked even in the bright September sunshine. I didn’t want to think what it would do after dark.

  “Hi. That’s a great costume.” I smiled at him. He scowled at me. Then he moved away, mingling with the crowd. I turned to Debby, who was in a red wench’s costume. “Where’s your scary outfit? I thought everyone was dressing up.”

  “Today’s the last day to turn in your non-Halloween costume for the scary one.” She shrugged. “I figure why do anything right away when you can wait until the last minute? There are plenty of people who say they aren’t dressing up for Halloween. Robin Hood and the Merry Men aren’t into it, and some of the Craft Guild. They want the dancing girls at the Caravan Stage to dress up like witches. Kind of corny, huh?”

  I should mention that a lot of people here take their roles at Renaissance Village very seriously. They live and work here full-time, and sometimes get a little weird. Robin and his Merry Men tend to be that way more than most, since they hang out in Sherwood Forest together, dispatching brigands and stealing toaster ovens from the rich to give to the poor.

  “How do the people from Adventure Land feel about people not dressing up?” I looked around at the milling crowd of residents and visitors. Adventure Land is the owner of the Village, and supposedly dictates the rules and regulations. “Has Robin told Livy and Harry about this?”

  “You are behind the times, I fear, Good Lady. Queen Olivia and King Harold are on the royal outs. Neither one is taking visitors or problems. It looks as though they’re leaving that to our good bailiff, Chase Manhattan. Methinks you know of him. Tall fellow who has shoulders like a Viking and tends to be good at most sporting events?”

  Yeah. I know him. I glanced around as the crowd continued to form outside the costume keeper’s shop, hoping to see his handsome, smiling face. No such luck.

  I stood in line behind the fairy, talking to Debby about her full-time life at the Village. I was surprised she wasn’t living with Fred, the red dragon, but she laughed when I mentioned it. “You were so right about not getting involved with any of these guys on a permanent basis, Jessie. I’m over Fred. Now I’m seeing the new blacksmith. His name is Hans von Rupp. He’s from Latvaria or Germany. Somewhere in Europe. He’s big, too.” She giggled. “All over. He can lift me with one arm and . . .”

  “Sounds like fun.” I cut her off, not wanting to hear so much that my ears started bleeding. Why do people always feel like they have to give you more information than you need?

  I wished I could just ask if she’d seen Chase with Little Miss Muffet or one of the underdressed woodland creatures. I couldn’t. I wasn’t willing to sound that needy. I was really sure everything was fine, anyway. It was only a few weeks. No reason to panic just because I’d been here an hour already, and hadn’t seen him.

  The fairy in front of me was at the window where Portia the costume keeper handed out apparel to those of us who didn’t own the costumes we wore every day. “I hope I’m not going to be one of those dead people walking around,” the fairy told Portia. “I didn’t come all the way from Texas to be a zombie.”

  Portia put a gauzy, gray garment in front of her. “All fairies are wraiths for the duration of the Halloween season. Please turn in your wings when you exchange costumes. Wraiths do not fly in the Village.”

  “What? This is big and long,” the fairy complained. “My legs are my best feature. I can’t work like this.”

  “Then go back to Texas,” Portia recommended, sounding tired, as always. “Next?”

  Debby smiled at the unhappy fairy-wraith. “Look at it this way, wraiths don’t have to wash their hair or dye it. You’ll save time and money during the next few weeks.”

  The fairy, about to turn wraith, hissed at Debby. “Stay out of my way, or I’ll take you straight to hell.”

  Like I said, an intense group of people. While Debby and the fairy-wraith argued about what the other deserved, I stepped up to the window and smiled at Portia. “This is exciting, huh? The first Halloween in Renaissance Village. I’ve really looked forward to it.”

  She glanced at me. “Where are you working, Julie?”

  “Jessie.” I smiled again. It hadn’t been that long. What was wrong with everyone? How could they all just forget me? “I’m apprenticing at The Glass Gryphon until Halloween. What kind of costume do you have cooked up for me?”r />
  Portia yawned. Her graying black hair was pulled starkly away from her thin face. “Craft Guild has a choice between ghosts and witches.”

  Ghosts and witches? Neither one sounded appealing. “What does the ghost costume look like?”

  “If I take it out, it’s yours for the duration. I’m not dragging costumes out for everyone to look over at this point. Ghost or witch?”

  I tried to imagine which one would be less likely to catch on fire, since, as an apprentice glassblower, I’d be working with flame. I tend to have a little bad luck when it comes to my apprenticeships. I didn’t want to catch on fire, no matter how memorable that might seem to some diehard Ren-Faire visitors.

  “Ghost. I look better in white.”

  Portia lifted a black costume complete with pointed hat. “Sorry. Fresh out. Try back the beginning of the week. Good to have you back. Enjoy your stay.”

  Was it just me, or did everyone seem to have a bad attitude about this venture? Where was the spirit? Where was the excitement?

  “Next.” Portia looked past me at Debby. “All bawdy wenches are the undead.”

  “The undead what?” Debby demanded. “You mean vampires? Or zombies?”

  “I’ll see you later.” I tactfully sneaked away before it got any worse. This visit to Renaissance Village wasn’t turning out the way I’d envisioned. No Chase. No excitement. I was disappointed, to say the least.

  “Greetings, Good Lady!” A handsome lord doffed his large, feathered hat in a deep bow. “Might you be the apprentice for The Glass Gryphon?”

  My heart sped up a little when I took in the excellent attributes that even his lordly apparel couldn’t hide. His hair was thick, chestnut brown, gleaming with red highlights in the sun. His smiling blue eyes looked me over from the tight jeans to the low-neck green sweater I’d worn for Chase, who wasn’t around to appreciate me. All in all, a sweet welcome package.