As different as each of these inmates were, they all had one thing in common. All of their crimes paled in comparison to those carried out by the man who sat in the last cell on the left. Among the most egregious of those offenses were treason, unspeakable war crimes, and murder.
A beam of yellow light angled into the cell from a small window above, hitting Krool’s uncommonly handsome face at such an angle as to make him look even more wicked than Elspeth had remembered. Other than that, however, for a person who had been locked up for several years, local time, Elspeth thought Krool looked remarkably well put together. His cheeks were full, red, and freshly shaved, and he smelled faintly of cologne. His eyes were bright and his teeth still impossibly straight and white. In fact, he looked virtually no different than he had when Elspeth first met him.
She remembered how charmed she had been by him that day and how well he was able to mask his true intentions, which is exactly what makes a man like Krool so dangerous.
From his position on the cot at the back of the cell, the man who had once tried to do away with Elspeth by throwing her down a well as a baby looked up, moving only his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was so raspy and whispery that it almost seemed intentional.
“Good afternoon, Elspeth,” said Krool with a smile guaranteed to make small children cry and puppies whimper. “I’m absolutely delighted to see you again. Tell me, have the lambs stopped screaming?”
“Lambs?” Elspeth scrunched up her nose. “What lambs?”
“Why, Little Bo-Peep’s sheep, of course, which I ate with some fava beans, mint jelly, and a nice Chianti. You still wake up sometimes, don’t you? You wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the lambs.”
“Uh, no. Actually I don’t,” said Elspeth. “That’s never happened. Not even once.”
“And you think that if only you’d been able to save Bo-Peep’s little lambs you could make them stop, don’t you?”
“Listen,” said Elspeth flatly. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about. All I know is that you told one of the guards that you have some big idea about how to get Queen Farrah back safely, which I sincerely doubt.”
“So cynical,” said Krool with a click of his tongue and a shake of his head.
“Okay then,” said Elspeth, folding her arms across her chest. “Let’s hear it.”
“It’s quite simple,” said Krool. He rose from the cot and walked smoothly, almost as if floating, to the bars. He gripped them gently but firmly and pushed his chiseled face through as far as the gap would permit. Elspeth took a step back, casually so as not to show the sudden fear that even the bars between them could not ameliorate. “All you have to do,” he said, “is meet her demands.”
Elspeth’s uneasiness quickly turned to disgust. She scoffed and threw up her hands. “I knew this was a waste of time,” she said. She turned and called to the guard outside. “Okay! All finished here.”
“Wait,” said Krool. “Trust me. You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
The guard opened the door and leaned in. Elspeth waved him off, and he ducked back into the hallway.
“You’ve got five minutes,” said Elspeth.
“Ample time to lay out such a simple plan,” said Krool. “It’s my understanding that Mary Mary is asking for one million sixpence.”
“Yes,” said Elspeth. “And thanks to you and your personal bowling alley and private go-cart track, and your ridiculous royal yacht, there’s nothing left in the treasury.”
“Oh, there’s plenty left,” said Krool, closely examining the fingernails of his right hand, which seemed terribly well-manicured considering his whereabouts. “Plenty of money for a person who’s willing to look for it.”
“What are you talking about?”
Krool’s grin became more sinister yet, and he turned his gaze from his fingernails back to Elspeth. “Deep down, whether he’d care to admit it or not, every despot knows his days are numbered,” he said. “It’s just the nature of the business. Those who overthrow will one day themselves be overthrown. The wise among us prepare for it by putting a little something away for a rainy day should we ever find ourselves living in exile.”
“You’re saying you still have some of the money you stole from the royal coffers?”
“Stole?” Krool seemed genuinely offended. “I prefer to think of it as an investment in my future.”
Elspeth’s narrowing eyes showed her skepticism. “How much?”
“Two million sixpence and change, in the form of twenty thousand one-hundred-sixpence notes.”
“Twenty thousand one-hundred-sixpence notes?” Elspeth snarled. “Haven’t you people heard of the metric system?”
Krool ignored the question, as such things were of no concern to him. “That’s one million sixpence for me,” he said. “And one million for you and your precious Farrah. Anything left after that? Hey, buy yourself something nice.”
“I don’t get it,” said Elspeth. “What interest could you possibly have in money when you’re serving a life sentence? I mean, you could have fourteen million elevenpence and it wouldn’t do you any good.”
“Not possible,” said Krool. “The elevenpence note was taken out of circulation decades ago. As far as my plans for the money, that brings us to part two of my fantastic solution.” He turned and walked back to his cot, sat down, then stretched out on his back as if he were about to take a nap. “In exchange for my staggering generosity, Winkie will grant me a full pardon.”
Elspeth couldn’t decide whether she disliked Krool more for his evil nature or his unrivaled arrogance. “But you killed Fergus’s wife. And Bo-Peep’s sheep. And you traumatized Little Miss Muffet. And had Little Jack Horner’s thumbs broken over a Christmas pie. You’ve committed so many crimes I can’t even name them all.”
“Then perhaps you should do as I do,” said Krool, “and simply refer to them as my greatest hits.”
“It’s not funny,” said Elspeth. “These are serious crimes. And now you want King William to drop all charges against you? And let you go?”
“Once he does, I will take you directly to the money.” Krool clasped his fingers together and rested his hands upon his chest. “After that, you’ll go off to save your little queen, and I will slip away to live out my halcyon days on a tropical island.”
“You’re crazy,” said Elspeth. “King William will never go for that.”
“Then he’d best get used to the idea of being wed to a muskrat, hadn’t he?” said Krool. “After all, it’s not as though you have a better idea, is it?”
Elspeth glowered at the former ruler. “I’m working on it,” she said.
“I’m sure you are,” said Krool. “By the way, congratulations on your statue. Do you know where they got the bronze for it?”
“No idea.”
“By melting down the statue of me that once stood where yours does now,” said Krool. “Tell me, Elspeth my dear. How long after you fail to rescue the queen—how long after she’s turned into a muskrat—do you think it’ll be before they tear down that statue of yours and return it to the smelting pot?”
“I don’t care about that stupid statue,” Elspeth insisted.
She tried to convince herself that she had no emotional attachment to it. The statue was merely a symbol, albeit one of the love and admiration bestowed upon her by an adoring public. But this was not about a statue. It was about the fear of disappointing those who had taken so much stock in her. And, more important, it was about the safe return of Queen Farrah. If she failed, the humiliation of having the statue torn down would be nothing compared to the pain of losing her friend.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” she asked. “About the money?”
Krool chuckled lightly and sat up again. “Just look at me,” he said. “I’ve been locked up here for nearly two years. You’ll have to agree I’m looking awfully fit, considering. At least compared to those poor saps in the other cells. While they dine on watered-down gruel, I su
bsist on smoked meats, expensive wines, and fine cheeses.”
Krool leaned forward and reached beneath his cot. When he straightened up again he was holding what appeared to be a lumpy pillowcase. From inside the pillowcase, he pulled out a wedge of soft white cheese wrapped in brown paper. “You probably thought that pungent odor you smelled was that awful monkey in the cage next door.”
Elspeth looked over to find the monkey sticking his head between the bars, still staring at her with that impossibly toothy grin.
“Actually, he does smell pretty bad,” said Elspeth.
“Yes,” Krool agreed. “Luckily I’ve got this to help cover up the stench. Epoisses de Bourgogne. Would you care for a bite?”
“I’m good,” Elspeth replied. “Where did you get that?”
“You can come by virtually anything in prison, providing you have the ability to pay for it,” said Krool. He pinched off a portion of the imported French cheese and popped it between his perfectly shaped lips. “Make no mistake, the money is every bit as real as the stench of that monkey. And it’s just sitting there waiting to be put to good use. So, what do you say?”
“It’s not up to me,” said Elspeth. “All I can do is bring your proposal to the king. After that, it’s out of my hands.”
“Very well,” said Krool as he reached into the pillowcase once more and pulled out a bottle of Chablis. “Just remember, when you do rescue the queen, and you’re looking for just the right wine for the celebration, I know a guy.”
“I’m twelve,” said Elspeth as she turned to leave. “But thanks anyway.”
“Oh, one more thing,” added Krool.
Elspeth stopped and turned back toward the cell. “Yes?”
“When Winkie agrees to my terms—and he will agree to them—I want it all in writing.”
One, two, three, four, five,
Once I caught old Krool alive.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,
Then I let him go again.
Why did you let him go?
Because he still has all the dough.
Chapter
7
Elspeth was pretty sure that Krool’s terms, whether in writing or not, would be a tough sell with Winkie. And when she returned to the throne room to inform Winkie of the demands, she discovered she was absolutely right.
“A pardon?” King William sneered as he paced angrily about. His advisors made sure to give plenty of room to his flailing arms and stomping feet. “He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to just let him go. After all the pain and suffering he’s caused. There’s got to be another way.”
“Actually, there are two other ways, as I see it,” said Elspeth.
A sudden wave of hope washed across Winkie’s ashen and unshaven face. “Yes? Well? What are they?”
“The first is to defy Mary Mary and try and get Queen Farrah back without giving her anything.”
“No, no, that won’t do,” said Winkie. “Far too dangerous. The queen’s life is at stake. You don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Mary Mary is very dangerous and highly unpredictable. So, what’s the other way?”
“A bake sale.”
“A bake sale?” Winkie snorted. “What kind of ridiculous idea is that?”
Georgie’s faced reddened. “I was thinking maybe a raffle too,” he mumbled. A look of disdain from everyone in the room caused his eyes to fall to the same floor that Winkie continued to pace until finally the king sighed and fell back onto his tiny throne.
“The point is,” said Elspeth, “that as much as we all despise Krool, we really don’t have much of a choice but to deal with him.”
Winkie placed his cheeks between his palms and appeared to be trying to pull his own face off. “Dealing with him is one thing. But letting him go? How could I, in good conscience, issue a pardon to the man who murdered Bo-Peep’s sheep? And Fergus’s lovely wife?”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Fergus. “If there’s anyone who would love to see Krool rot in jail until the end of time, it’s me. But the fact is that nothing will bring my Vera back.”
“Yes,” Bo-Peep agreed. “The important thing now is not to lose another. We must do whatever it takes to ensure the queen’s safe return.”
“You are noble friends indeed,” said Winkie with a stiff smile. “But it’s important to remember that this is Krool we’re dealing with here. How do we know all this isn’t some kind of a trick? How do we know he really has the money?”
“Whether it amounts to two million sixpence, I can’t say for sure,” said Elspeth. “But he does have money. Trust me. He may be a lowly prisoner, but he eats like a king. Fine wines, smoked meats, imported cheese. Pretty much whatever he wants.”
This news seemed to deeply trouble the actual king, who hadn’t eaten in days due to stress and grief. “So he’s managed to corrupt someone in my Royal Guard,” said Winkie. “This is horrible indeed.”
“Perhaps not,” said Bo-Peep, with a spark in her eye and a quick twirl of her staff that ended in her palm with a loud smack. “This could be the best news we’ve had in some time.”
“I don’t understand,” said Winkie. “How could corruption within my inner ranks be anything but awful?”
“Because,” said Bo-Peep. “In order to bribe your guards, he has to have access to the money.”
“Yes,” said Dumpty, his face at once filled with intrigue, his eyes flashing like Bo-Peep’s. “Unless the money is hidden somewhere in his cell, which would be quite impossible, he has someone on the outside, bringing him the funds.”
“Precisely,” said Fergus, the excitement in the room spreading like a brush fire. The owl fluttered from his perch upon the window ledge and landed on the high back of the throne. “Which means there’s someone besides Krool who knows where it’s hidden.”
And so there it was. A sudden and simple solution to the current situation. All they had to do was determine who had remained loyal to Krool and was now supplying him with the money he needed to live in relative comfort while locked away from the world. It was a task easier said than done, given that they had only four days to meet Mary Mary’s deadline.
“But where would we start?” asked Winkie, giving voice to what they all were thinking. “We can’t interrogate every citizen of Banbury Cross. That could take weeks.”
“We should start with the guards,” said Elspeth, who had watched a good many detective shows in her young life. “If we can figure out which of them is on the take, maybe we can get him to flip on Krool’s supplier.”
“It’s a long shot,” said Dumpty. “And it might slow us down by a day.”
“I don’t care,” said Winkie. He stood up and planted a fist firmly into the palm of his hand. “If we can somehow get the money without pardoning Krool, it’s definitely worth the effort.”
Elspeth was excited and honored yet nervous. She had never before been asked to be part of a police interrogation. But the Cheese was insistent that a person of her assertiveness would be a valuable addition to the process.
“How shall we do it?” she asked, while frantically pacing the floor of the Banbury Cross police station. “How about the old good cheese, bad cheese routine?”
“I prefer the bad cheese, bad cheese approach,” said the Cheese. “Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine.”
There were only a half dozen guards who performed dungeon duty at any given time, and the first to be summoned to the interrogation room was a long-time employee of the castle by the name of Solomon Grundy.
“Please, sit down, Mr. Grundy,” Detective Cheese instructed the tired-looking man, who made no effort to hide his annoyance at having been called away from his supper.
Grundy took a seat at the table, every bit as bare as the room’s white walls, except for a pitcher of water and an empty glass. “You mind telling me what this is all about?” he grumbled.
“We’ll ask the questions around here,” said the Cheese, setting the tone of the interrogation early. “You got that?�
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The Cheese rolled slowly around the room while Elspeth leaned back against the edge of the table, trying very hard to look as though she’d done this a million times.
“Sure,” said Grundy. “How long is this going to take?”
The Cheese stared flatly at Grundy. “Did you just ask another question?” Grundy responded by looking furtively about the room.
“Tell us now, Mr. Grundy,” Elspeth jumped in. “You dungeon guards aren’t exactly getting rich keeping an eye on all those dangerous criminals, are you?”
“Ha,” Grundy replied. He ran his hand angrily through his thinning hair. “Ever since the union got run out, we can barely put hot cross buns on the table.”
“That’s what I thought,” Elspeth replied. “So then, who could really blame a person in your position for wanting to make a little extra on the side?”
Grundy folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “What are you talking about?”
“You know darn well what she’s talking about,” hissed the Cheese. “She’s talking about bribes.”
“Bribes?” Grundy exploded. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing. I’ve never taken a bribe in my twenty-two years on the job.”
The Cheese scoffed loudly. “Yeah?” he said. “Well, one of you guards has been taking money from Krool in exchange for fine wine and stinky cheese. Now don’t get me wrong, some of my best friends are stinky cheeses. But this has to do with more than stinky cheese. In fact, everything about this stinks to high heaven.”
“I agree,” said Grundy. He leaned forward in the chair and casually poured himself a glass of water. “But you’re wasting your time with me,” he said. “Sounds like the guy you want to talk to is Tucker.”
“Who’s Tucker?” asked Elspeth.
Grundy took a sip of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Little Tommy Tucker,” he said. “One of the guards. Young guy. Only been on the job a couple of years. Anyway, I ran into him on his day off last weekend. Out by the stream. He was row, row, rowing his brand-new boat gently down it, if you know what I mean.”
Long Live the Queen Page 5