He gave us another long look before departing.
I turned to Bree. “Do I want to know what you’re warming up for at the brothel?”
She did a silent clap. “Adam put together a cabaret for us to perform. It’s delicious and the absolute perfect addition for our grant work. Tom’s helping backstage and overseeing everything, including crowd responses. I’m the lead.” Her happy eyes turned pleading. “Which is why he made muffins. We hoped you’d watch Gwen for us during rehearsals. There are only a few, and they won’t take long, I swear. Plus, Mom and Dad already agreed to cover you anytime you’re helping with Gwen. Linus will take over as soon as he’s feeling better.”
As if watching my twin in a cabaret wasn’t asking too much. “I get to play with Gwen and watch rehearsals? Nothing else?”
Her head bobbled. “Please. Please. Please. I haven’t been onstage since high school.”
“You were a cheerleader in college.”
“Cheerleading’s different. No one paid any attention to us on the sidelines, and everyone abandoned the stands for the bathroom at halftime. Please? It’s all in the name of research.” She drew an X over her heart.
“Fine, but only because I refuse to make Dad sit through your cabaret practices. I assume that’s why he passed. Okay, also because my niece is wonderful and I don’t see her enough.”
“Excellent! Tom will bring Gwen to you when he’s needed backstage. I have to run. I’ll be back to relieve you at lunchtime. I’m staying until close.”
She bounded away.
I finished the coffee and muffins feeling duped somehow.
By lunchtime, I’d spoken to hundreds of shoppers, answered questions about the false news reports as diplomatically as possible, and explained the benefits of every item we carried at least as many times. Overall sales were shoddy, but at least people were stopping and seemed interested in what I had to say.
When Bree returned at lunch, I shoved off, eager to get home after a quick trip to the privy.
I sauntered along the dusty path, taking in the scenery. The fairgrounds made a perfect setting for Ye Ole Madrigal Craft Faire. The Renaissance Faire happened every summer in an apple orchard, but fall was the busy season for Ohio apples and the dead season for county fairs, so the Craft Faire had a separate locale. Passersby carried shopping bags and steaming cups. Their red cheeks and rosy smiles looked a lot like the commercials for holiday shopping.
Despite the crowd, the privy was empty. I washed up at the foot-pump water station and dried my hands slowly, not quite ready to go home. How sad was it that the Faire had lost two members in four days and no one seemed to notice? There wasn’t even a memorial for John or a remembrance painting on display. Nothing.
A chorus of laughter echoed behind the fence. Business as usual for workers in need of a little nookie. The trilling giggle mixed with a heady and failing Scottish accent I’d recognize anywhere. I inched closer, pretending to dry between each finger and around the nails. The florist’s accent fell away on some descriptive word choices about her cleavage and his tongue. A rough New York accent took over a moment before the talking ended. Ew. He was as bad as the rest of them.
My heart sank. He was also just a guy enjoying his life, like John. Like my best friend Baxter. They hadn’t deserved to die so young or so senselessly. Much as I wanted to stick around and get a look at the unlucky woman with the florist, I had renewed purpose. This ordeal meant more to me than seeing my company’s business back in order. A shopping bag with a silver horseshoe caught my attention. I wanted justice for the victims, and I knew where to go next.
I had a few more questions for Adele. I climbed the hill to the blacksmith’s shop, planning my inquiry and hoping she’d talk to me again. The jousters were lined up for a tournament. Hopefully, the Action News team wouldn’t be back. I wasn’t at the wagons to help hold Grandma back.
Adele was busy showing a pair of wizards a birdcage, so I poked around, waiting my turn. She was my best resource so far. Though, I couldn’t help wondering if she’d been jealous enough to kill both of them.
“You’re back.” She found me near the weapons where we’d first met.
“How are you?”
“Good.” Her swollen eyes and splotchy complexion said otherwise. “Better.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m working on it. I was mad and a little in shock when we talked before. It’s bothered me. I must’ve seemed like a callous bitch. I’m not usually. Maybe I’m still in shock. I’m glad you came back so I can say sorry if I acted like a maniac before.”
“You were fine. I know what you’re going through. I lost someone over the summer. I still pick up the phone to text him when a favorite show or song comes on...then I remember.”
She blinked glossy eyes. “Life, right?”
“Yeah. Life.” I toyed with a line of leather whips on the wall. “The last time I was here, you told me John was seeing the apothecary. Did you hear about what happened to her?”
Creases gathered over her forehead. She pulled a handkerchief from her corset and dabbed her nose. “No. Was she arrested? She hasn’t been back to her shop since he died.”
“She’s dead.”
Her mouth popped open. “How?”
“Poison.”
Blood drained from her cheeks. Panic widened her eyes. “Do you think someone’s targeting the people in John’s life?” She turned her gaze to a cup on her counter. “Was it something she bought from the Faire? Surly Wench was closed today. Did she buy something poisonous there? Did Lisa do this?”
“We don’t think the poisoning happened at the Faire. What do you mean about Lisa? Was she seeing him, too?”
“I don’t know. I mean, she’s over eighteen and not using a walker, so she’s in his age range. She’s not ugly and she’s accessible.” She found a chair against the wall and fell onto it. “Am I next?”
“We don’t have any reason to think that. Do you?”
“Do you have any reason to think I’m not next? What if I’m targeted for being in his life?” Her long black skirt dragged on the straw and dirt floor as she writhed to get comfortable and catch her escalating breath.
“That’s terrible logic. I don’t have any reason to think I’m not next. You can’t look at it from that perspective or you’ll be afraid of everything.”
She flailed her arms. “I am afraid of everything.” The heavy liner and raven hair dye suddenly seemed more like a cloak of protection than a statement of hard-assery. Her rapid breaths became shallow.
“Hey.” I crouched before her. “Look at me. I’m here to see if you have any other names you can give me. Was he seeing anyone else that you know about besides Melanie and the apothecary? Also, did he ever say anything about his business? Do you know if it was doing okay?” The whole money situation didn’t sit well with me. “I might talk to the partner next.”
That got her attention. She straightened on the seat and settled herself. “I think business was good, but his partner was a real thorn. They argued all the time. John would come here some nights and drink after hours, just trying to escape. That’s how we got together.”
Interesting. “Any other women you can think of?”
The bird-cage guys were back at the counter. “Not really. Nothing more than a quickie hookup. Sorry. I’ve got to get this. Will you keep me posted if anything else happens?” She swatted her cup into the trash and gave her customers an apologetic smile.
“Yes.”
I exited the shop and inhaled fresh country air. This had nothing to do with her or me. Whatever was going on had everything to do with John and nothing more. Except the apothecary, but I’d figure out how she got sucked in.
I turned for the castle gates and my waiting car. A pair of horses in dress armor rode into my path. A knight wearing a red coat of arms removed his helmet and smile
d. “Milady.” He dismounted his horse with a flourish and bowed at my feet. “May I be of service to you this fine day?”
I curtsied. “No, thank you, sir.”
He stepped toward me as I moved away. “Might I buy you a cup of ale or coffee? Lunch, perhaps? Anything you’d like.”
“No, thank you.”
His used-car salesman grin gave me the creeps. “Your number then? Perhaps another time?”
“No.” I widened my stance. No meant no, whether the topic was coffee or something more. “Kindly remove yourself from my path.” Three ways to land him on his back, if necessary, ran through my mind.
He snorted and stepped away, palms forward. “Excuse me, Miss Priss. You’re dressed for the Faire. I assumed you might want to play the part. A little knight in shining armor might be what an uptight princess needs.”
Why were so many men pigs? This was why I didn’t date. Where was Bree when this stuff happened to me?
“Hey!” Adele hollered from her shop. She had a broom in one hand and a pail in the other. “You want to hear me play drums on your head again?”
He scowled.
“No? Then shove off!”
The jerk disappeared without another word.
I spun in shock. I could’ve dropped him, but her effort was appreciated. “Thank you.”
“Bloody jousters.”
Chapter Eighteen
I arrived late to the concierge desk at work Monday morning, apparently not long after a pack of wild animals. “Good grief.” I collected empty sugar packets, fallen swizzle sticks and stir paddles and stuffed them into the trash can. Did people have no respect for coffee?
I made a quick tally of things to accomplish and general time frames. I had a pile of emails to send and graphics proofs to approve for Guinevere’s Golden Beauty. The accusations had been made and disproven in the span of a few days, but if I didn’t act fast and stay on top of things, there could be long-reaching negative results. I’d contacted the news station and requested an interview with Mindy Kinley or at the least a timely on-air apology.
The clubhouse buzzed around me. Staff and residents hustled in every direction, chatting on phones and toting bags. Gym bags. Computer bags. Shopping bags. With Pioneer Days behind us for another year, Horseshoe Falls was back to business as usual, which meant a full inbox for me. Residents and IT problems were a package deal. Fortunately, most of the problems were solved by turning their machines off and back on again, but no one liked to hear that, so I’d volunteer to drop by and take a look. Score points for customer service and a little local gossip. Double win.
The door to my office swung open as I reached for the knob. Fifi stopped, wide-eyed in the threshold. “Oh, glory be! I was on my way to get coffee and a pastry for you.” A line of bangle bracelets jangled on her thin arm.
“Uh-huh.” I slipped past her, raking my mind for the reason I’d asked her to come back. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fully capable, but thank you.”
She bit her thick glossy lip. “If you say so. I logged in to clubhouse email when I got here this morning. I used the password you gave me Friday, and I responded to all the messages and questions. There are two residents who need someone to come out and take a look at their machines. I called and tried to verbally walk them through the problem, but they didn’t like that very much.”
“The residents like knowing tech support does house calls. It’s one of the perks here. They itch. We scratch.” I set the coffee on my desk and turned back to Fifi. “Not really. Not literally.”
She blinked long false lashes.
“I didn’t mean to touch them if they asked.”
She sniggered. “I like you. You’re funnier than my last boss.”
I slid onto my seat and logged in. The IT inbox was clean, aside from two marked with blue flags.
Fifi went back to her seat and tugged the hem of her floral mini dress. “I flagged the ones who want us to come to them.”
“You did all that this morning?”
“I like to make a good impression and stay busy.”
Maybe an assistant wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to me. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Can I have a voice mail passcode? I couldn’t check those messages or I would have.”
I got Fifi started on the voice mails, then I ran a quick diagnostic of the system and double-checked the security. I’d made a routine of vigilance after the issues of this past summer. I released a breath. No one had tampered with the network. No hackers. No homicidal lunatics. I worked steadily through the morning on a pile of pet projects I hadn’t had time to look at in months.
By lunch, I was running on fumes, mental and physical. “I need food.”
Fifi jumped to her feet and pressed the phone receiver to her chest. “Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m going to make those house calls you flagged. I’ll grab something from Sweet Retreat on my way back. Can I pick you up something?”
“No thanks. I don’t do lunch.” She returned the receiver to her ear.
“Right.” Well, I did lunch, dinner, breakfast, second breakfasts, the whole hobbit-inspired gamut. “Water then?”
“That would be amazing.” She marked notes on paper and hung up the phone. “I checked the voice mail. Just repeats of email messages.”
“Sometimes residents think the email might not make it, so they leave a voice mail as backup.”
She crinkled her nose. “How do they know the voice mail gets here?”
“They trust what they know.” I hoisted my bag over my head and secured it cross body. “Text me if you need anything. I shouldn’t be long, and I won’t be far.” The walls around Horseshoe Falls guaranteed it. House calls were manageable on foot, but I preferred the golf cart mode of transport. It preserved my pedicure and designer heel addiction.
“Be back in a jiffy.” I thrust the door open, ready to test my best time on two house calls and lunch. “Ah!”
Jake stood inches from my face. Alarm raced over his features before settling in quiet amusement. His hand moved to the gun at his hip before dropping nonchalantly at his side. “Afternoon, Mia.”
Fifi hummed. “You should really get a window on that door.”
I huffed to catch my breath. “What are you doing here?” Why haven’t you called since Friday? Why’d you make a stink face at me and flee? What is wrong with you? I sidestepped him.
Unfortunately, he followed. “I thought you could use some help.”
“With what?” I slowed to look him over. Jeans, boots, gray shirt, black duster. Gold star at his hip. “Missing the cyber-crime team? Need a little time at the keyboard?”
His lips parted slightly. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d have expected a smile to follow.
“I spent some time online this weekend. It helped.”
I headed for the door. “I knew it. Once a techie, always a techie.” I swung the maintenance door open and I slipped into the sunshine.
Jake climbed onto the bench seat of the employee golf cart. “I played REIGN a few times. It looks like someone else is running your kingdom.”
He played REIGN again? I hid the shock racing through my veins and revved up the cart. Apparently, I’d have company on my lunch ride. “I joined Nate’s kingdom after the thing with Punisher last summer. Normally, I play at his place, but there’s a Furry convention in town and Carl and the crew were in costume.” I shivered. “I loathe Furries.”
“You just handed your kingdom over to Faerie Fiend? She’s arming the townspeople.”
I hooked a right onto the main drag and headed for Sweet Retreat. Maybe I could eat before I made the stops. Who knew how long Jake planned to visit. Leaving him in the cart while I worked on a desktop seemed rude. Of course, climbing into my cart withou
t asking was also rude, but that was to be expected of one of us.
“Faerie Fiend is a strong player,” I hedged. I didn’t like the thought of arming the peasants, but I’d needed someone to step up fast and take over the kingdom after my attack, and she’d been willing. “Wait a minute.” I stopped at a crosswalk for a Segway and two women on horseback. “You haven’t played REIGN in three months.”
He lifted and dropped one shoulder by way of explanation.
“Why now?”
A green Prius rolled up behind me, and I pressed the gas. I waved at the Segway operator and horse riders as I pulled ahead. Horseshoe Falls had never been so beautiful. The trees were out in full autumn foliage. Fallen leaves in shades from crimson to amber dotted the roads, still damp from an overnight shower. The sun shone as if it hadn’t gotten the message. Winter was coming.
Thanks to another day of blessed Indian summer, Dream Bean and Sweet Retreat were hopping. I snagged the last spot at the curb outside their doors and twisted on the seat for a better look at Jake. “Why now?”
“Why not?” His rounded shoulders and tight jawline indicated something was wrong. The stern set of his lips said he wasn’t up for sharing, but he came to see me, so he should’ve expected a few questions. He ran the pad of his thumb absently over the shield on his belt. “It’s a nice escape. Helps me think.”
“Okay. Why so glum?”
“What?”
“You look a little pouty, like someone stole your pony. So, spill.”
He guffawed. “I’m a grown man. I don’t pout.” His thumb brushed the marshal star again.
He’d called marshals the “ultimate lawmen” when he took the job. He’d made it sound like a life goal to wear that star. Seemed to me he should be ecstatic.
I hated to start a fire, but I’d taken a devout interest in studying human body language last summer, and Jake’s body was screaming of tension and misery, exactly the opposite of what he should feel, having accomplished his life goal. “How’s the new job going?”
He turned fiery eyes on me. “Fine.”
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