Treacherous Toys

by Joyce

  “That may be true,” he quietly agreed. “But he can have it analyzed and might be able to find out exactly where it came from. This is a murder investigation, Jessie. You can’t hold anything back.”

  Like I said, too serious. And becoming too much like Detective Almond.

  Once we arrived at the elephant and camel ride enclosure, the kids ran off to have fun with the animals, forgetting all about us.

  Tom Grigg, the undercover police officer turned pirate, found us there. “I heard about Santa,” he said, playing with his saber. “What happened?”

  “Father Christmas,” I corrected. “And he was shot.”

  “Once in the back of the neck, I think,” Chase added. “He was dead when I got there. But the killer may have run past Jessie in the workshop. He knocked her down.”

  Grigg turned interested eyes toward me. “You didn’t see anything?”

  “Nothing.” I didn’t tell him about the green felt. I tried hard not to stare at his new mustache and failed. “Have you heard anything else?”

  He shrugged his shoulders beneath the tattered red shirt he wore. “Only that San—Father Christmas liked the ladies. He goosed a few of the serving wenches at the tavern last night. His wife came and dragged him home by the ear about midnight.”

  I supposed that was what I had sensed between him and Christine earlier in the day. It totally destroyed my lovely vision of their happy family life. Eight kids with Christine and he was still fooling around. There should be some way to tell when men were like that—a big black spot on their forehead or something. They shouldn’t be allowed to be charming and nice.

  “You might remember something,” Grigg said to me, “after the shock wears off. It happens to victims. Let’s just hope the killer doesn’t think so, too. He might come after you.”

  “What makes you think it was a man?” I asked.

  “Angry husband, maybe. Jealous boyfriend. Who knows?”

  “Same thing for angry wife, jealous girlfriend,” I said. But as I said it, I hoped that wouldn’t be the case, at least about the angry wife. I hated to think about the kids losing their mother, too.

  I saw Christine walking across the King’s Highway toward us and cautioned Grigg to keep his mouth shut. He nodded and walked away.

  She’d been crying, of course. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale. As soon as the kids saw her, their enchantment with the animals was over. They’d all been putting on a good face for us. Now they broke down and ran to her in tears, wanting to know what had happened.

  “Thank you for taking care of them,” she said to me and Chase. “We need some time to talk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  We watched them leave, sliding our arms around each other for comfort.

  “Well, I think that’s it for tonight,” Chase said. “Let’s catch some dinner and go to bed. You need some rest so you can be up and running after those kids tomorrow.

  “Thanks. All of that sounds fine. Maybe better than fine. What a day.”

  But I tossed and turned restlessly all night in bed thinking about Chris. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Chris again, lying beside me on the floor. I scoured my memory, trying to make out the person who’d smacked me down as they’d made their escape. There was nothing.

  I hoped the killer didn’t think I knew who he or she was. But it was incentive for me to begin thinking about who it could be. Who would want to kill Chris?

  It was a long night, not the pleasant one I’d planned for my first night back with Chase. I must’ve finally gone to sleep toward dawn because it was daylight when I woke.

  Chase was smiling at me, holding a plastic tray with a red rose, a cinnamon roll from the Monastery Bakery, and a hot mocha latte.

  “It’s about time.” He barely waited for me to sit up. “I’ve already done my rounds, helped catch a runaway camel, and assisted Galileo in setting up his new telescope. I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.”

  It was a lot to take in—especially before coffee. But my head didn’t hurt anymore and even a little sleep was better than none.

  “Any news about what happened to Chris?” My mind was still focused on that subject. “Did they find anything that might help?”

  “I haven’t heard from Detective Almond, if that’s what you mean. As far as the Village is concerned—Adventure Land hired a new Father Christmas last night.” He grimaced. “I know. But the show must go on. It was a single-day record for us on ticket sales. That’s a big draw.”

  “How is that possible so fast? And what about Christine?” I nervously nibbled on the cinnamon roll. “Tell me they didn’t just kick her to the side of the cobblestones with her eight kids.”

  “She and the kids are all going to help with the pictures and making toys. The new Father Christmas is only for show. He doesn’t make toys. I think he might be a male model. Older variety, like those kinds on commercials for Viagra.”

  I didn’t really care about Adventure Land’s decision to hire a new Father Christmas. I was sure they would replace all of us as needed. But keeping Christine and the kids was awesome. “That’s wonderful! I was afraid they’d be gone.”

  “Probably not. Adventure Land paid them a lot of money up front to be here. It’s part of their contract. They have to stay. It’s not going to be easy for them.”

  “Maybe. But at least they have somewhere to go until they can decide what else to do. Thanks.” I kissed him and handed him the tray so I could get out of bed.

  “Where are you going?” He ate a piece of my leftover cinnamon roll.

  I grabbed the coffee and the rose. “To help make toys. That’s what I came for.”

  “Maybe you should take it easy today. We could talk about you staying here.”

  “I’m just going to jump in the shower and get right over there,” I explained. “I’m sure Christine could really use my help. We can talk later. Maybe at lunch.”

  I hurried into the shower, glad there was plenty of hot water. Sometimes when Chase and I showered together, the water heater ran dry. Not that it mattered in that case. And cold water could be really good if it was hot outside.

  But I didn’t want to talk about moving here or anything else having to do with my other life as a history professor. I’d had enough trauma in the last twenty-four hours, with Father Christmas dying before I could even make a single toy. It looked as though I would get another chance, though, since Christine was also a toy maker. I wanted to concentrate on that.

  When I got out of the shower, Chase was gone. He’d left a little note on my costume, which he must have procured from Portia at the costume shop. He really was a wonderful person to go through that ordeal for me.

  Love you. See you later.

  It made me smile. Chase always made me smile. I couldn’t imagine facing life without him. While I was teaching, time dragged and I was miserable. I spent hours just thinking about being here with him. He’d said he loved me. I was crazy about him.

  I thought about him as I dressed in my red, green, and white gown with a ruffled petticoat under it. There were even matching slippers. I looked at myself in the mirror and twirled around a couple of times. Life was good. I was happy just the way things were between me and Chase.

  I answered the quick knock at the door, wondering if Chase had forgotten something. Instead it was my twin brother, Tony.

  “Hi, sis!” He smiled and hugged me. “How long have you been here?”

  “Since yesterday.” I was happy to see him. We’re almost exactly the same height. Both of us have brown hair. He’s got my mother’s brown eyes, and I’ve got my father’s blue ones. “How have you been?”

  He looked away, playing with Chase’s sword collection that was mounted on the wall. “I have a little problem, Jessie.”

  “How much?”

  “Not much. Maybe a couple hundred would get me through. You know I’m good for it. Since I started working on all the computers around the Village, I’ve been solid.”

  �
�What happened?”

  “I needed a car. There was this hot little fairy—”

  “There always is. Was she too good to ride the bus?”

  “Sort of. We broke up when I wrecked the car.”

  He smiled, like always. I shook my head and sighed. He was just like our father—a man I could barely remember since he and my mother were killed right after they got divorced. The one thing I could remember was my mother crying because he was always on the hunt for some new woman and he could never hold a job.

  Just like Father Christmas, I supposed.

  I prided myself on being more like my mother. She’d been responsible, hardworking, hadn’t let daydreams keep her from putting food on the table.

  I’d spent my whole adult life getting Tony out of scrapes, loaning him money, and finding answers to his problems.

  I knew that was why I was reluctant to stay in the Village with Chase. In the few years we’d been together, Chase had never exhibited the awful traits of Morton family males. He might not ever. But I couldn’t trust that life with him would flow smoothly. If he let me down, I wanted to be able to bounce back. I needed to be able to take care of myself, just like Christine.

  “I’m sorry,” I told Tony. “I don’t have any extra money. I lost my job, my apartment, and I think the roadside mechanic who got my car going duct-taped it together. I don’t have anything right now.”

  He looked amazed. “No nest egg? Jessie, you always have a nest egg for something or other.”

  “Not this time. I’m sorry. I have to go to work.”

  “But they’ll take the car if I don’t pay for it, even if it is wrecked. I don’t need much. I can pay you back by Christmas.”

  By this time, we were walking down the short flight of stairs from the apartment and out of the make-believe Dungeon where the plastic prisoners bemoaned their fate behind prison bars.

  “I don’t have any money, Tony. You might have to get a part-time job outside the Village.”

  “What about Chase? He has money, right? Couldn’t you borrow some from him?”

  “I probably could. But I’m not going to. Grow up. Figure out your own answers for a change.”

  He stared at me as though I were speaking another language. I supposed I was for him. The language of not happening. It wasn’t something he recognized.

  “Okay. I understand.” He stared off into the distance past the Village Square and the King’s Highway. “Where are you working anyhow?”

  I told him about Father Christmas, his wife and children. “I should still be able to learn how to make toys. If not, I guess I’ll be wiping down tables at one of the pubs. I can’t afford to turn anything down right now.”

  “That’s interesting,” he said. “I just heard yesterday that some of the older residents knew that Santa guy. They said he’d worked here before.”

  “Which older residents?” I asked. Tony was always a great source of gossip, if not much else.

  “You know, the really old ones—Merlin, Roger Trent—the old ones.”

  “Thanks.” Maybe that would give me a place to start anyway. The Village had been open a lot longer than I’d been coming there. I recalled that moment between Chris and Livy when I thought something weird was happening between them. Maybe they knew each other. “I’m sorry about your car,” I said sympathetically before we parted. “You know I’d help if I could. I’m just in bad shape myself right now, Tony.”

  “Marry Chase,” he urged. “Live happily ever after. Forget all that crazy stuff about being on your own. Chase is a good guy, Jessie. He never messes around while you’re gone. Go for it.”

  He smiled and left. I wondered why he thought I should get married when he seemed so unlikely to do it. Maybe because I’d have money to lend him again. Or maybe because he really cared about me. I hoped it was the latter.

  I stopped walking to let a little goat cart go by. It was followed by a colorful goat girl with her crook and several other goats. Behind her was the Green Man, who was practicing on his leaf-covered stilts. He made me think about Bart, who’d played the Green Man once. He was so tall, he hadn’t needed stilts. He was strong, too, like the proverbial ox.

  I hoped he and Daisy were speaking again this morning. I’d try to get over to Armorer’s Alley later for a chat.

  I had to stop thinking about Chris’s death, I reminded myself. Nothing good ever came of it. Detective Almond was going to take care of everything. Christine and her family might never know who killed Chris, or why. But that wasn’t my job. My job was to make toys and stay out of trouble.

  I could stay at the toy workshop, learn a new craft, and not let it bother me. It wasn’t like the Village would pay me more because I found out what had happened.

  I kept repeating that mantra over and over as I passed familiar faces like Fred the Red Dragon and Brother Carl, head of the Brotherhood of the Sheaf. I waved to each of them, always glad to see them. They were like family to me.

  Chase had told me that the police had moved as much as they could of the toy-making materials from the old shop, which was still being investigated by the crime scene people, to the basement of the second manor house. No one would be able to access the place where Chris was killed until the police were finished.

  I went to the basement door of the new workshop and entered, but I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me. Christine and all the children, dressed in their costumes, were hugging each other and crying. They all looked up when I walked in.

  “You have to help us, Jessie,” Christine said. “We have to find out who killed Chris.”

  Four

  How was I supposed to ignore that? All of my mantra work went out the window. That left behind my own suspicious nature. Someone killed Chris, taking him from his family. We had to do something.

  “What did the police say?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

  Everyone started talking at once. Christine had to quiet the children down before she could answer.

  “Basically nothing,” she said finally. “But they asked me plenty of questions. Now they want to question all the kids. I think they have a theory, but they won’t tell me what it is. I don’t know what to do. Do you think they can find Chris’s killer?”

  “I don’t know. They don’t know the Village.”

  “Exactly! Which is why I think we should turn to you and Chase for help,” she explained.

  I looked at all the tearstained faces. This was the right thing to do, even though Chase wasn’t going to like it. “Chase works with the police. He doesn’t like to do anything without them. But you and I can look around and ask questions. I already have a few I’d like answered.”

  “That sounds like a good place to start,” Christine agreed. “I think we should write a journal or something where we can chronicle our search for what happened to my husband.”

  “We want to help, too,” chorused a few of the older children.

  “Us, too,” the twins, Joy and Star, said at once.

  “So what about the journal?” I encouraged everyone to take a fresh look at what had happened to Chris. “Let’s think about what we know for sure.”

  Christine brought out a lovely, hand-bound notebook. We all sat down at one of the workshop tables, and she began writing down everything we could think of.

  “I left him in the workshop to meet with Jessie,” Merry Beth said. “He was alone, getting ready to set up and make some toys.”

  “Did anyone else come to the workshop after that, before I got there?” I asked the group.

  Heads shook, indicating they hadn’t. “But we weren’t watching the whole time,” Garland admitted.

  “Jolly, you were down there talking with Daddy right before you and Mom left for the store,” Merry Beth said.

  They all turned to look at Jolly. “What?” he demanded. “I just wanted to ask him not to call me Jolly again in front of people. That’s all.”

  “You think you have a bad name. What about me?” Garlan
d said. “I’m a Christmas decoration!”

  The kids started talking about how much they all hated their seasonal names. Christine finally broke it up and they quieted down. “Your father and I did the best we could to keep you happy, healthy, and fed. We chose your names to go with the important calling your father had. I don’t want to hear a bunch of complaining.”

  No one said anything else about it. I felt this discussion wasn’t getting us very far. I wanted to ask Christine about Chris working in the Village before and if he’d left behind any jealous girlfriends, but I didn’t want to do it in front of the kids. Those topics were too adult for them.

  Christine looked at what she’d written. “This isn’t much help, Jessie. What else should we do?”

  “What about enemies?” I asked. That seemed a safe subject. “Did Chris have any enemies?”

  They all took a moment and thought about that. “Do bill collectors count as enemies?” Merry Beth finally asked. “They seemed to call and threaten Daddy a lot.”

  “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss problems with our finances,” her mother chastised.

  “Actually, this is the best time and place for it. Were there a lot of bill collectors?” I asked Merry Beth.

  “I’ll say!” Her bright blue eyes opened wide. “People called all the time. They said some really bad things sometimes when I wouldn’t let them talk to him. I don’t really understand all the details.” She glanced at her mother.

  “We owe some bills,” Christine confirmed. “It was this stupid life he wanted to lead. Always moving around from one place to the next. I kept saying, ‘Let’s settle down someplace with plenty of tourists, like Dollywood or Williamsburg.’ People would have respected him for his craftsmanship.”

  “Why did he want to keep moving?” I asked. “Was he afraid to stay in one place?”

  “It was like a hobby for him,” Jolly said. “Once I saw him throw a dart on a map and that’s the next place we went. You remember, Mom. Six hot months in Arizona without any kids around, just old people who wanted to sit on Dad’s lap.”