Treacherous Toys

by Joyce

  Paul shook Chase’s hand with plenty of gusto. “It’s very nice to meet you. Detective Almond always has good things to say about you.”

  “Really?” Chase raised one brow as he looked down at the officer. “That’s good to know.”

  “Oh yes. He’s always talking about what a good police officer you’d make in the real world because you do such a good job in what he calls the squirrel factory. I think he’s referring to the Village. Although I don’t know why. It seems very pleasant here.”

  “I see.” Chase laughed. “I’ll have to remember to thank him for that, Officer Miller.”

  “Please call me Paul. I’ll just be one of the crew now, Mr. Bailiff. I understand that I’ll report to you while I’m here. I don’t know if knaves have names or not.”

  “I’m not sure either about the names, Paul. Where would you like to take Jessie’s statement?”

  “Where’s good?” We all looked down from our vantage point at the Village stretched below us. “Where would you go?” Paul asked.

  “The Dungeon,” I answered. After all, he was there to talk to me. “I’ll lead the way.”

  Chase’s radio went off—something about a lost child. “I’ll see you later,” he said. “Let me know how it goes.”

  Paul was full of pleasant conversation, asking curious questions about the Village as we walked down the cobblestones to the Dungeon. It was the only place I could think of where there wouldn’t be tourist cameras or listening ears as he asked me questions about what had happened the day Chris was killed.

  I took him upstairs to our apartment, and he raved about how quaint and interesting it must be to live over the Dungeon. I agreed with him, even got him a bottle of water. Everything seemed to be going just fine.

  He took out his tape recorder as well as a notebook and pen. We both sat down, and I was fooled into thinking this would be a continuance of our conversation on the way here.

  But the first question out of his mouth was, “Do you have any verification of your whereabouts at the actual time Mr. Christmas was killed?”

  Fifteen

  “What do you mean?” I demanded. “You sound like I’m a suspect.”

  He smiled politely. “You were first on the scene, Ms. Morton. Were you having an affair with Mr. Christmas? There had to be some reason you were there to see him even though everyone else was gone.”

  “Are you insane?” I bounced out of my chair. “I barely knew him. We’d just met a few hours before. I hadn’t slept with him and had no plans to do so. I’m shocked that you’d even ask. And I was going to make toys. That’s what my job is.”

  “Sorry. These are the questions Detective Almond told me to ask. I’m just doing my job. You want to see the killer caught, don’t you?”

  “Whatever.” I didn’t believe Detective Almond had told him to ask those questions. I stalked around the apartment—it was too small to stalk far. I fingered the swords in Chase’s collection, wishing I could use one on Paul.

  “And your location during the approximate commission of the crime, sometime between noon and two P.M.?”

  “I was on my way to meet Chris at the workshop. Or I was eating at the Pleasant Pheasant, buying a turkey leg for Chris, or getting out of bed with Chase. Take your pick.”

  “How long after the crime took place would you say you were at the scene?”

  My temper was about to get the better of me. This wasn’t what I’d expected. “Very soon. So soon, I think the killer was still there.” I showed him my bruises. “I got these from him as he left the scene.”

  “So you’re convinced it was a man? Why not a woman?”

  “You mean Christine, don’t you? You think his wife killed him.”

  “Maybe.” He smiled again. I wanted to hit him. “Do you think his wife killed him?”

  “No! I know she has a big insurance policy on him—”

  “And she was having an affair with another man, isn’t that correct?”

  I really didn’t like him anymore. He was worse than Detective Almond. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. “I don’t know that for sure,” I lied. “I’m guessing you don’t know either.”

  “We know she was having an affair, Ms. Morton. She’s still seeing Harold Martin. I think they call him the king, is that right? Do you think her lover helped her kill her husband?”

  “No,” I responded fiercely. “Because I don’t think Christine killed anyone.”

  “You’ve spent a lot of time with her since the death of her husband, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has she told you where she was when her husband was killed?”

  “Yes.” What was he getting at?

  “Has she told you where she was when he died?”

  “I know where she was. She was with her son purchasing a new camera for their work.”

  His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to me. “Would it surprise you to learn that she was back in the Village for an hour, without her children? Where was she during that hour, Jessie? Has she confided in you? Holding back won’t help, you know.”

  “She hasn’t said where she was, but I know she wasn’t far from her children. She’s a good mother.”

  “That may be true. However, that left her with plenty of time to kill her husband, leave the workshop, probably knocking you down as she ran out, then return after Bailiff Manhattan arrived.”

  “That sounds like a stretch to me.” But there was a cold sensation in my chest. The police had obviously thought this through. The way Detective Almond had thrown out the idea—I hadn’t thought he was serious.

  “Has she ever shown you a gun, Ms. Morton?”

  “No! Guns aren’t allowed in the Village. As far as I know, she doesn’t have a gun.”

  “You know there was no murder weapon found at the scene, don’t you? We believe she still has it. Probably hidden somewhere in her apartment.”

  “I don’t believe it. She didn’t kill him. Everything you’ve said is circumstantial.”

  “We’ll see.” He turned off the tape recorder and put down his pen.

  I glanced at all the scribbling in his notebook before he put it away. I couldn’t tell what he’d written, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t good. I felt like I’d been mauled by a pit bull.

  “Thank you for your cooperation. That’s all I’ll need from you—at least for now.”

  I couldn’t believe he could look and sound so harmless while we’d been out in the Village, then turn so vicious once we got inside. I really believed he tried to make me feel threatened so I’d reveal something about Christine that would help the cops make their case against her. What a weasel!

  “Where would you recommend eating here at the Village?” He was back to the sweet weasel part of his character. “I’m starved!”

  “Get out of my apartment,” I said through my teeth. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

  He made a placating face. “Please don’t take this personally. May I call you Jessie?”

  I marched the few feet it took to reach the door and opened it for him. “No, you can’t call me Jessie. And get out now before I call security.”

  He persisted. “Let’s let bygones be bygones. I’ll buy you a drink. You can tell me exactly what a knave is expected to do in the Village.”

  “I don’t think so. You’ll have to find someone else to interrogate about that. Good-bye.”

  He shrugged and looked a little mystified that I was throwing him out. But he left. I slammed the door closed after him. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be a tough guy or what. I didn’t care. I didn’t plan on answering any more of his questions or helping him out in any way. He was on his own.

  I sat down on the bed and thought about the case he’d just laid out for me. It sounded bad for Christine. It would be a terrible tragedy if they arrested her. They still needed a better case against her but that could be possible.

  I’d been wishy-washy, too. Hadn’t I felt the same about her for a
short time? She did appear to be guilty of something. I could even see the cops’ point about Harry looking guilty. I didn’t know how much the large insurance policy was for, but it sounded a lot like motive when it was paired with the fact that she’d been cheating.

  Maybe I’d cut my own throat by kicking Paul out. If I’d kept calm, I could’ve floated the idea that Edgar could be guilty. That way, Paul wouldn’t pay much attention to me.

  I couldn’t have helped it anyway. He’d tricked me into trusting him, then attacked me when we got here. I was going to have to find out about Edgar on my own.

  In the meantime, I thought I should warn Christine about the police making a case against her. Maybe she had a friend or family member who could take care of her children if something happened to her. Otherwise they’d probably go to Social Services. I wasn’t sure exactly what that system was like, but I remembered my grandmother always saying how happy she was not to have lost me and Tony to them. It sounded bad anyway.

  Chase still hadn’t returned, so I decided to see if Christine was back from meeting with her lawyer. I was on my way to the manor houses when I spotted Roger Trent. He was beginning the trek to the castle to set up for the King’s Feast. The Village was closed for a few hours and would reopen later for the event.

  All of the craft people brought their wares to the castle on feast nights to sell to the large crowds who came for the dinner and show. It was a sales highlight for most of them. Everyone did well at the King’s Feast.

  “Hi, Roger.” I smiled at him, hoping he was in a good mood. “I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Hi, Jessie. I don’t mind, if you carry half of this stuff for me. What’s up?”

  Roger could be curt, part of his background as a police officer, I supposed. He was still in good shape, too. His shoulders and chest were wide, narrowing down to his hips and muscular legs. He kept his head shaved, and he was almost as tan as his brown jerkin and trousers.

  I explained the basic situation to him. He’d given me mostly baskets from his wife, Gullah weaver Mary Shift, to carry. I’d apprenticed with both of them and had learned a lot from them. I was also instrumental in bringing them together. It was satisfying to see that their relationship was still working.

  “So, do you remember Chris and Alice Christmas being here as king and queen?”

  “Sure. I had dinner with them many times at the castle. They were good people. I was sorry to hear Chris had been killed.”

  “Do you know if anyone who was here at that time had any kind of problem with him? Could he or she still be here?”

  Roger shifted his heavy load of glass items. “There aren’t a lot of us still here. Me. Livy and Harry. They came in right as Chris and Alice were leaving. I made sure that was a smooth transition. Some of the castle staff were here. A few of the original craft people are still here. Does Chase think the killer is hanging out waiting to be caught?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a theory of mine. Do you know what happened to Alice after she broke up with Chris? Did she stay on?”

  “Alice?” He thought about it as we passed the Sherwood Forest entrance. A series of whistles and strange cries accompanied our passage. We both glanced that way, then shrugged and moved on. “I’m not sure. They left the Village together, if I remember correctly. There was a lot going on here at that time. Not to mention that I was in the middle of a life crisis. I’d given up my job with the police. My wife had left me and was suing for sole custody of our son. I had a lot on my plate.”

  “And Alice?” I prompted. Sometimes Roger got caught up in his own life’s story to the exclusion of everything else.

  “Oh yeah. I don’t know for sure what happened to them after that. I heard they’d gotten divorced. I didn’t see Chris again until he came back here.”

  “What about Edgar Gaskin? Have you ever met him before?”

  “I haven’t met him at all. I’ve never heard the name. Is he someone here at the Village?”

  “He’s the new Father Christmas. He was here before Chris was killed and then stepped right into his job.”

  He made a humphing sound. “Sounds like someone did some good planning for a change. Bringing in a feature Christmas character looks like a real ticket seller. That means more people and more sales for me. Is he going to be at the feast tonight?”

  “Don’t you think that seems a little suspicious? It’s like someone was expecting Chris to fail—or worse.”

  “Not really. You have to protect your investment, Jessie. The Village can’t run on huzzahs and turkey legs, you know. Adventure Land needs to update their plan for us every couple of years. Things have to run on schedule. You’re a tight ship or you sink.”

  He talked on, but all I heard after that last part was blah-blah-blah.

  I agreed with him—halfheartedly. I knew the Village would cease to exist if it didn’t turn a profit. Taxes had to be paid, and people liked to get their paychecks, no matter how small, at least once in a while.

  Roger and I reached the castle, joined by other residents who were setting up shop. Only the food vendors weren’t allowed to sell their wares on this night because it created a conflict with the castle kitchen. But all vendors and characters were commanded to attend. Failing to show up at the King’s Feast each week was grounds for dismissal.

  I couldn’t remember anyone ever actually being fired for not coming. Certainly there were some characters who didn’t make it every week. It was probably not enough to bother with for whoever kept track of those things.

  So far, I didn’t have much on Edgar, and despite my best effort, I had even less on Alice. It was time to take the investigation to the next level—in this case, searching Edgar’s room at the castle. I’d learned that I wouldn’t get much from him by being friendly or confronting him directly.

  Tonight’s festivities, however, would be built around Father Christmas. Or so I’d heard. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to search through his things. Maybe I’d find something incriminating there. My plan, such as it was, was to leave the feast as he was introduced. There was bound to be some showy production to bring him out. I’d go to his room, take a look around, then head back to the feast. I was a very minor character. I felt sure no one would miss me.

  The King’s Feast was always a dazzling sight to behold. Every jester, knight, lady, and lord was in his or her finest as hundreds of visitors packed into the Great Hall. Once there, they would dine on small chickens, bread, vegetables, and dessert, washed down with plenty of ale, soda, or iced tea. The king and queen with all of their court presided over the affair in regal splendor.

  For entertainment, the residents of the Village paraded their wares. There were jousts in the arena, displays of bravery, swordsmanship, and other heroic feats. There were also magicians, jugglers, acrobats, and everything one could imagine possible at a Renaissance feast.

  It was a lot of work for everyone, but the big event brought in more first-timers who everyone hoped would return for a full day sometime later. With Father Christmas on the menu, it was bound to be even more impressive.

  I started back to the Dungeon so I could change clothes. I saw Christine and the kids walking up from the parking lot through the Main Gate as I reached the cobblestones. I waved and waited for them.

  This didn’t seem to be the appropriate time to reiterate that Harry didn’t love her and wouldn’t leave Livy. And maybe that wasn’t my job. Maybe Harry would do the right thing.

  “Did your meeting go well?” I asked when they got close.

  “I don’t know. There’s some holdup in collecting the insurance for Chris’s death.” She sent the children to play while we talked.

  There it was—one of her motives, according to the police. Would it be impolite to ask how much of a motivator it was?

  “It looks like the police have put some kind of block on me getting the money,” she said. “The insurance company said they won’t pay until they clear the case
. I don’t know what to do, Jessie. I don’t have the money to bury him. I don’t even have the money to cremate him and put him in a jar.”

  At that last part, she broke down into huge, gulping sobs. I put my arms around her and tried to comfort her. But what could I say to her? I didn’t have any money either. For her, I’d be willing to ask Chase.

  On the other hand, it could be a while before Chris’s body was released by the ME’s office. It probably wouldn’t be until the murder was solved.

  “I’m so sorry,” I finally said. “I’ll see what I can do to help. But you won’t need it right away. The police won’t let you do anything with him until they’re done.”

  “What do you mean?” She moved away and pushed at the tears streaming down her face.

  How could I put it delicately? “The medical examiner does tests, but they have to be sent somewhere else for the results. That can take a while. They won’t release the body until all the tests are back—or they close the case.”

  “I see.” She scanned the area for the children. Seeing them, she looked back at me. “This is never going to end, is it? It feels like a nightmare I just can’t wake up from.”

  Again, I didn’t know what to say. I hugged her again and asked if she was going to the King’s Feast. It sounded kind of lame, but I needed something normal, at least for me, to hold on to.

  “Yes. I believe we are. Edgar sent us a command that we’d better be there. So we will.” She smiled a little. “Father Christmas doesn’t want to be seen without his family, even if we aren’t really his family.”

  “It will be a big spectacle tonight. Be prepared.”

  “I’ll be as prepared as I can be. I just received a text from Harry. He said our relationship is over. He asked me not to contact him in any way. That has made everything even worse. At least when I believed he loved me, it all made sense somehow.”

  That was fast work. Leave it to Harry to text someone that they were breaking up. All those feelings of dislike I had for him became even stronger. But at least he’d responded appropriately to my threat and I didn’t have to tell Christine.