The Minstrel and the Masquerade

by Lila K Bell

  My impatience to get moving nearly pushed me to offer a few bad words, but I swallowed them and forced a wider smile. “That’s too bad. I should have sent her a text or something before swinging by. Ah well, the album she wanted will still be there tomorrow.”

  “Did you want to come in?” He stepped aside to give me space.

  For a moment, I hesitated. Sam and I went way back, and we always had things to talk about, but that was before I’d started butting in on his job. During the Coleman investigation, he’d caught me twice breaking into the Coleman house and had voiced his suspicions that my intentions had been less than legal. At the time, he’d been willing to overlook it, for which I owed him a great deal, but I doubted he’d be thrilled to learn I was at it again.

  Still, it had been a while since we’d caught up. Like, actually caught up. Not exchanged pleasantries over a dead body kind of caught up.

  “Sure. Got any ginger ale?”

  Sam chuckled as he led the way into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a two-litre bottle, setting it on the counter.

  “Dad is still addicted, fortunately for you,” he said. “Big glass or small?”

  “Do you even need to ask?”

  Sam headed to the cabinet and pulled out a blue glass etched with silver diamonds. It had been sitting on the Robinson family shelf since we were in high school and had always been my favourite.

  He filled it up and slid it over the counter, filling up another one for himself.

  “So what’s been keeping you busy?” he asked.

  Dangerous question. I didn’t want to lie to him, so skirted around the main hobby occupying my time.

  “The usual,” I said. “Taking care of Gramps and hitting up my yoga sessions. Listening to Mother complain about the City Hall renovations.”

  Sam laughed. “I imagine she’s close to pulling out her hair with the fact that the Artistic Society won the bid on that one, isn’t she?”

  “I thought she’d have an apoplectic fit the day she found out,” I said. “But she’s adjusting. Now she’s having fun nitpicking all of their design choices and tearing apart their options without mercy.”

  “Ah, Rose. You never change,” he said, speaking to the phantom of my mother standing behind me.

  “I had lunch with Lucy the other day.” I sipped my drink and eyed him over the rim. Was that a faint blush I spotted creeping up his neck?

  “Oh yes? How is the lovely Miss Hart?”

  Lovely, eh?

  “She’s great. She mentioned you. Said she regretted not having a chance to speak with you at the party.”

  Definitely a blush, the pink filling the sides of his cheeks and working its way toward his nose. His ears were bright red. I was having a really hard time not grinning at his expense.

  “If you see her again, let her know I say hello.” He cleared his throat. “She’s a beautiful aster.” I quirked an eyebrow and his eyes widened. “At the party. Her costume. Her costume was beautiful.”

  “I’ll pass that along,” I said, then decided to put him out of his misery. As entertaining as he was, I liked him too much to torture him. About his love life, anyway. “What about you? Any progress on Margery’s murder?”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed, his bashfulness from a moment ago gone. “You know I can’t talk about that.”

  The sudden wariness in his expression wounded me, but I couldn’t say I was surprised. Not even a month ago, I’d been wily enough to sneak information out of him before he’d realized what I was doing. It wasn’t a mistake he was likely to make again.

  Fortunately, this time, I didn’t need to take advantage of our friendship like that. Sybil had proved a more than capable spy for the really dishy information.

  Thanks to her, I was able to hold up my hands and say, “General details only. I know it’s off the table. Just asking as a friend.”

  Sam sighed and leaned his elbows on the counter. “It’s not moving as well as we might have hoped at this point, but we might have a new lead from one of the servers.”

  So Jenn had called. Good for her.

  “Otherwise, either no one saw anything or they’re keeping their mouths shut.”

  I empathized with him. Whether or not my mother was right about “one of us” not being able to commit murder, we could certainly keep our secrets when we wanted to.

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I said. “It was just bad luck it happened where it did. Not only was Margery one of Brookside’s elite, but she also died in a closed room where only a limited number of people might have done it. You only need to listen to my mother to know what they’re all thinking. It’s impossible it might have been someone they know, and therefore anything they might have seen is irrelevant.” I smirked. “I’m surprised you haven’t learned that by now. Your parents are part of that crowd, and you’ve been on the force for what? Two years?”

  Sam frowned. “But only just moved to homicide. Until now it’s been traffic accidents and robberies, where people are more than happy to talk about how much money they lost. This is a whole new world.”

  “Enjoying it?” I asked.

  A hint of a smile arose under his frustration. “I am. Every day’s an adventure, Fi. So many more opportunities for promotion, too. I’m hoping Curtis hires me onto her team permanently. It’d mean a pay raise, as well as learning all the ropes to rise up to detective myself.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” I said. “I hope the case picks up with this new tip.”

  Sam’s wariness returned, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t like that I can’t tell if you’re prying or not.”

  I rested my hand over his. “Don’t worry, Sam. I’m not trying to steal your job.”

  As I sat there sipping my ginger ale, I realized I didn’t even care that I had access to his information through Sybil. Yes, it had been helpful, but it hadn’t taken me anywhere I couldn’t have gotten on my own.

  With the Coleman situation, I’d been desperate for leads. For one thing, I hadn’t known what I was doing, and for another, it had been my reputation, and possibly my freedom, on the line. Detective Curtis had come so close to taking me in for questioning, and I’d likely been only a few interviews shy of her finding out I was the Midnight Minstrel, the thief responsible for terrorizing the bookcases of Brookside’s upper class. It would have meant jail and, more importantly, stress on Gramps that he didn’t need. So I’d been in a race against time to find the truth before they found me.

  This time, there was no pressure. While I still didn’t know what I was doing, I had a better idea of how things worked. I knew more questions to ask, and, apparently, how to push people to the brink of insanity. The puzzle was there to be solved, with only my mother’s reputation to protect.

  Or so I kept telling myself.

  “I believe you,” Sam said after a drawn-out pause. I don’t know what he saw in me that made him decide I was telling the truth, but I was grateful for it. “While you’re here, I wanted to thank you for all the time you’ve spent with Sybil. You’ve gone above and beyond what I expected.”

  I shrugged. “She’s a cool kid. She’s got her issues, sure, but who doesn’t? I know it took me a while to warm up to her, but the fact is, I like her. So you don’t need to worry that it’s a chore.”

  “I appreciate that. But I need to ask… Have you noticed anything… different… about her lately?”

  I frowned. “Different how?”

  Sam’s brow furrowed with thought. “I don’t know. She’s just been acting oddly. Almost… interested in things.”

  The laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. “You are such a brother. I’m pretty sure she’s fine.”

  We chatted and reminisced about our own teenage years until the ginger ale was gone, and then I stood up to leave. “Might as well catch an early night tonight and save my money if your sister isn’t coming home. Thanks for the hospitality.”

  Sam touched his brow. “My pleasure. I’d sa
y we should do it again sometime, but I’d hate to make Sybil feel she was sharing a friend.”

  I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “You’ll always be my first choice, Sam. You know that. You’re the one who knows all my secrets. Maybe next time I’ll invite Lucy.”

  With a wink, I released him and headed to the door. Sam followed, but paused in the foyer when his cell phone rang.

  “Detective Curtis?” he said when he answered.

  I slowed the process of putting my shoes on. I hoped to hear that Sam had developed another lead or that they’d caught the murderer, but instead his eyebrow climbed toward his hairline and his gaze landed on me. “As it happens, she’s right here. I’ll pass you over.” Confusion was written all over his face as he handed me his phone. “She’d like to speak with you,” he said.

  I swallowed hard as I accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Gates,” Curtis said, her voice sharp and clearly annoyed. “I don’t know how else to put this to make you understand, but back off. We received a phone call from Ralph Goodwin half an hour ago and he is furious. Rightfully so! He says you walked in on an appointment with a client and accused him of murdering his partner. Is this true?”

  Jeez, the guy hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d had enough. I knew I’d pushed him hard enough to consider making a complaint, but I hadn’t really expected him to do it. To me, it suggested I’d struck a nerve. Following too closely down the right path, perhaps?

  “I didn’t accuse anyone of anything,” I said. “I speculated, based on facts I knew to be true.”

  “Well I speculate that if you go any further with this, Ralph is going to follow through on his threat to sue you for slander,” said Curtis. “And it might not stop at that. If you don’t drop this, I might come after you for tampering and wasting police time. At best, you’re a witness, Ms. Gates. At worst, you’re a suspect.”

  At those words, my heart stopped, and if Sam weren’t watching me, anger now mixed into his confusion, I would have sagged against the wall. As it was, I steeled my spine and clenched my teeth, allowing the detective to continue her rant.

  “What you’re doing is irresponsible, irritating, and, frankly, dangerous. It’s a murder investigation, not some dinner theatre entertainment. Is there anything I have not made absolutely, one hundred percent clear?”

  The desire to offer something snarky in response bubbled within me, but I pressed it down. This was neither the time nor the place.

  “No, detective. Everything is crystal.”

  “Good,” she said. There was a click as she hung up.

  I cleared my throat and handed the phone back to Sam.

  “I think you’d better go,” he said. His voice was flat, but betrayal circled behind his blue eyes.

  I opened my mouth to try to explain, but in the end thought better of it. He’d believed me when I told him I didn’t have an interest in this case. The fact that I hadn’t actually lied — that I wasn’t out for his job or have any desire to get him into trouble — didn’t matter. I’d hurt him.

  So for now I made no apologies or excuses, I simply took myself away and crossed my fingers that I would find a way to make it up to him.

  14

  I couldn’t deny that Curtis’s lecture hit me hard. My family may be rich, which allows me a pretty privileged upbringing, but that didn’t mean I was impervious to guilt or shame when I was called out for something I knew I shouldn’t be doing.

  If I’d been younger, I would have slouched down the street kicking cans, pretending I didn’t care what the police thought of me. Being older and of legal age, I headed to the Treasure Trove for a drink.

  Troy had only just opened his doors by the time I arrived. It was a wise business move on his part not to open until dinner. His usual clientele preferred not to be seen mingling during daytime hours.

  “You’re here early,” he greeted me as I stepped inside. With the exception of Ted Fuller, a man who owned shares in the barstool on the far left, I was the only one here.

  “It’s been that kind of afternoon.”

  I pulled up my usual stool on the right, one away from the end, and cradled my head on my arms.

  “Need to talk it out?”

  “I don’t know. I think I know what you’d say if I did. You’d tell me you could have seen this coming. That I shouldn’t have been so gutsy and unthinking.”

  Troy set my whiskey sour in front of me and leaned his hip against the bar. “Told to back off, eh?”

  “Guessed it in one,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “I got ratted out by Brooks’s partner.”

  “Lawyers, am I right? You can’t trust them to keep your secrets when you’re accusing them of murder.”

  “I didn’t—” I started, then fell silent and shrugged. There was no point explaining myself again. Not when he was essentially spot on. “Anyway, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that if I keep prying, they’re going to drag me in on a bunch of charges. I thought I was getting away from all that when I left the books behind.”

  “That’s the problem with habits,” Troy said. “You think you dropped them, but really you just made a lateral move. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you really want to do with your life. But that’s a bit of a heavy conversation for this early in the evening. You drink up and think it over. When you’ve downed a few more, we’ll talk.”

  He gave me a wink and headed down the bar to finish opening for the night.

  I nursed my drink and tried not to think about what he’d said. I didn’t want to be a cliché, stooped over a drink trying to sort out my life. My life was sorted, thank you very much. Exercise, family, and a few hobbies on the side. I’d tried the whole nine-to-five thing, but within three hours I’d been tearing my hair out with boredom. I’d taken on some ad hoc work — legitimate stuff for the societies around town, mailing lists, photography, ad campaigns, event preparation, that kind of thing. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty and love the satisfaction of a job well done. It just has to be on my terms and my schedule.

  So far, I hadn’t found anything that grabbed my passions and gave me the feeling that I was doing something useful with my life.

  I turned my back to the bar and surveyed the room as the nightly patrons trickled in.

  The Jewels were here in full force tonight, glittering and bright with the dresses, hairstyles, and accessories that matched their names. Their profession was risky and still carried a stigma that left them outside of the society I’d been raised in, and yet from everything I’d seen and heard, they enjoyed what they did.

  My attention drifted to Troy. He had the radio playing behind the bar and was grooving to some classic rock while he wiped down the bar top and arranged the glasses underneath. He’d opened the Trove twenty years back to offer a safe place to people who needed it — the people who worked in the shadows and enjoyed a chance to wind down without looking over their shoulders. He was respected and, because of that, his patrons kept their business dealings out of his establishment. The treasure chest sitting open on the bar was a testament to their appreciation of him. Money sat inside it during all open hours, available to those who needed it on the understanding that they return it when they could. Tribute was paid back in the form of chocolate, candy, and little odds and ends that someone thought Troy could use.

  That was the dream, wasn’t it? To be doing something with your life that gave it meaning?

  Even Ryan, wherever he was tonight, always carried himself with a sort of radiating satisfaction. Whatever way he spent his time when he wasn’t surprising me in offices or drinking at the Trove, it seemed to make him happy.

  A twinge of envy crawled through me that I didn’t have my thing. The closest I’d come was stealing books, but deep down I knew it was just a way to keep myself busy. A challenge to prevent me from getting bored and doing anything more self-destructive.

  Was it the same with this crime solving thing I’d started
? If I turned away from what, where would I go?

  Really, the cops were the ones making this decision more difficult than it needed to be. If they stopped chasing me away from everything I enjoyed doing, I’d be set for life.

  I snorted and swivelled back toward the bar to discover that Troy had replaced my drink with a fresh one.

  As I drank it, my thoughts turned back to Ryan, and I wondered if he’d show up tonight. To my surprise, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to. Usually, it was a no-brainer. Just the thought of him was enough to get my heart beating at an uncomfortable pace. But after our time in the car, the quickness with which he’d darted away and his unease at being around me, I wasn’t sure I was in a rush to be in such close proximity again. It would be different if I knew what had caused it, but he hadn’t shown any interest in disclosing the reason.

  On the other hand, it would have been nice to find out what the heck he’d been doing with his suit and satchel this morning. Looking pretty professional for a person I suspected filled his days with far more illegal hobbies than my own.

  I heaved a sigh as all of these questions and confusions settled on my shoulders. Resting my elbow on the bar, I propped my chin in my hand and stared up at the television. More hockey. I didn’t care enough to watch it, but at least it was something to keep my eyes busy while I drank.

  “So, what’s the verdict?” Troy asked, returning to my end of the bar to keep me company.

  “That I like it here. I think I’m going to follow Ted’s example and live on this stool and watch hockey and drink and hope for the best.”

  “That’s a solution.”

  I groaned and looked up at him. “Why isn’t this whole life thing easy for everyone?”

  “Because some of us only have one skill set and we know how to use it. You, Miss Gates, have the skills of ten people. It only makes sense you have no focus.”

  I grunted. “Stop being so wise.”

  “Have another drink,” he said, setting a third one down in front of me.

  “I’m going to have to walk home.”