“A walk?” my father asked. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Well, some form of cardio, I’m sure,” Amber Lee teased.
The statement went on to say that she knew nothing about Brooks’s death.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” my father said.
And Kenneth Grant got to the wedding early and saved seats for the rest of the crew, but they never came. He thought it was a lovely wedding, but didn’t see anything happen. He’d returned to his tent to retrieve his forgotten wedding present, and by the time he got back, Brooks was writhing on the ground.
“That doesn’t tell us much, does it?” Liv said.
I shook my head. “You already said Kayla avoided Raylene. But did either White or Grant seem especially chummy with her?”
“Not that I saw,” he said.
“Well, those are the two most likely accomplices, then.” I turned to my father. “Were you planning on heading back to the camp?”
He sighed. “Just to get my tent. I’m not that fond of camping. But I can if you need something.”
“I was wondering if you might do some secret surveillance on these four.” I pointed at the pictures. “Especially Raylene. And maybe talk to the people at camp. See if anyone knows anything about who locked me in the stocks this morning.”
“By now they’ll know me as a bounty hunter. It will be harder to get information out of any of them.”
“Isn’t that what you do?”
He saluted. “You’re right. I’ll do my best. I did hope I was done with that stupid friar’s costume. That thing itches.” And he walked out the back door.
I hung my apron on the wall.
“And where are you heading?” Liv asked.
“The Ashbury. To check on his story. Also on Chandler Hines. And hopefully Kathleen Randolph, if she’s not as tipsy as she was the other day. I suppose I should see if she could tell me what she and Andrea were doing just before the wedding.”
“I thought you didn’t suspect them,” Liv said.
I stuck my thumbs in my belt in a mock macho gesture. “But I’m a lawman now. Have to get the facts.”
She threw a balled-up piece of tissue paper at me, and I was out the door—with my chauffeur in tow.
Chapter 15
Nick and I found Kathleen Randolph behind the front desk of the inn, checking in two customers wearing medieval clothing. As they disappeared up the stairs, she leaned in closer and whispered, “I always get a few deserters this time of the week. They shower. They nap. They get on the Internet to check their Facebook and flip on the TV to see what’s happened in the world—or maybe to catch up on their soaps. And they always order the turkey dinner with mashed potatoes before they head back, as if to make sure New World foods haven’t disappeared while they’ve been gone.”
“So you haven’t been back to the camp since . . .”
“Not since the wedding,” she said. “I hadn’t planned on it. Even before what happened to Barry. I figured I’d give Andrea and Mel some privacy, without her mother hanging around. Besides, I knew this place would be hopping with refugees.” She must have seen my smile. “Yes, refugees from the Middle Ages. That’s what they look like anyway. I can’t say I’m fond of the practice. If they’re here for the immersion experience, why wreck it? But I do appreciate their money. How’s the case coming?”
“It’s coming. Do you have time for a few questions?”
“Yes, I do. If you two don’t mind asking them in the kitchen. I’m a little short-staffed today, and I have to peel potatoes.”
It was my first time in the Ashbury kitchen, and I guess I was expecting it to be as quaint and historic as the rest of the inn. But instead I was greeted by a harshly lit sea of stainless steel. One other woman was already amassing a huge pile of potato peelings next to her. A television screen in the corner alternated shots of the lobby and the restaurant.
“I never knew you had cameras,” I said.
She returned from the sink, where she’d washed her hands. “I had them installed a couple of months ago, after that Fix My Wedding fiasco. They do double duty. This way when I’m in here, I can see if someone comes into the lobby or restaurant. And they give another level of security if something should happen.”
Nick went to the sink and washed his hands.
“What did you want to talk about?” Kathleen said.
“First, I need to check if a couple of people who claimed they registered here last night were telling the truth.”
“Last night? Did something else happen?”
“The killer attacked Audrey.” Nick examined a knife before he picked up a potato and started helping.
“Well, we’re thinking it might be the killer. Can’t prove a connection yet.” Oh, dear. I was starting to sound like Bixby.
“Good heavens!” she said. “Who else would attack you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But the two people I want to check on are Chandler Hines and Richard Wilson. They would have come in later in the evening.”
“The blacksmith and the friar. Yes, they did. I was still at the desk, though. Came in together. No luggage. I thought . . . well, you probably don’t want to know what I thought. But they took separate rooms.”
“Can you tell me when they checked out?”
“They both used the quick checkout, so no. But . . .” She gestured toward the screen. “If they left through the front door . . .”
It turned out that the Ashbury’s cameras fed into a normal DVR, so soon I was fast-forwarding through the time-stamped footage.
Just after three, Chandler Hines left through the front door and climbed into a taxi.
“There’s an eager beaver,” Nick said.
It wasn’t until seven thirty that my father entered the lobby, grabbed a paper and a free cup of coffee, and headed out. I let out the breath I’d been holding and glanced up to see Nick’s grim smile.
“You had to check,” he said. His voice held understanding, but I still felt guilty for needing to be sure.
Kathleen squinted at me.
“Long story,” I told her. “Hey, has Raylene Quinn stayed here at all?”
“I’d think this would be the last place she’d come,” Kathleen said. “With a former and current Mrs. Brooks both here.”
“I don’t know. You and Dottie seem to get along.”
“Maybe I’m special. Or maybe we get along because we’ve been through some of the same things. And her relationship with Brooks began long after mine was over. At least I think it did. But the current wife and the current mistress? They’d repel like similar ends of a magnet.”
“Like polar opposites,” Nick said.
She shook her head. “Polar opposites attract. Those two would keep their distance.”
“So if Raylene Quinn and another female member of Brooks’s staff were also keeping distance from each other . . .”
“Oh,” Kathleen said, setting down her knife. “That sounds promising. Things were such a whirl before the wedding that I didn’t see which of his cronies were traveling with him this time. Was it a big group?”
“Just four. Two men and two women.” I listed the names for her, but she shook her head until I got to Raylene.
“She’s the only one I’ve met,” Kathleen said. “The others may have come to the camp before, but I’ve been keeping my distance from Barry. But are you thinking Raylene could have done it?”
“Isn’t that quite a double standard?” Nick asked. “Could a mistress be motivated to kill because she discovered the man she was having an affair with was having an affair with someone else? Why would she expect him to be faithful to her?”
“Funny how the mind plays tricks on you when you’re in the middle of a bad relationship,” Kathleen said. “Maintaining a double standard is easy.”
“That’s pretty much the theory I’ve been working at the whole time,” I said. “But a couple of things still bother me. The accomplice, for one.”
“What accomplice?” Kathleen said.
“Just about the same time I was attacked, a witness heard a voice she thought was Raylene’s talking with someone. But who would Raylene reach out to for help if she wanted to kill Brooks?”
“She’d look for someone who also had motive,” Nick said.
“Only there’s an awful lot of those people around,” I said.
* * *
When I got back to the shop, I gave my chauffeur the afternoon off. Nick didn’t need to stay to babysit me, not with Liv, Amber Lee, and Opie around. When I walked in, they were surrounding a workstation covered with red roses, and Liv looked like she was making a bridal bouquet.
“New order?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” Liv told me. “We can handle this.”
“Handle what?” I said.
“You mean she didn’t call you?” Amber Lee asked.
“Who?”
“Your Saturday bride,” Liv said. “It seems she now wants red roses instead of white, and could we please change it. She seemed furious at you, but I think I got her calmed down.”
“At me? Why? We didn’t have any problems in the consultation. She said she was glad I worked with the language of flowers.”
“Yes, and you told her white roses meant what exactly?”
“Innocence. Purity. She’s a preacher’s daughter, and she said it was exactly what she was going for.”
Amber Lee chuckled. “Yes, well, it seems she came across a magazine while she was getting her hair and makeup trial that said that the white rose symbolized ‘a heart unacquainted with love’ or something like that. The whole bridal party was teasing her about being frigid and she was mortified.”
“Oh, dear. I did warn her that the language of flowers can vary from dictionary to dictionary.”
“Yes, but she wasn’t buying it,” Liv said. “So she now wants red roses to symbolize love. I think we have enough here to fill the order.”
I pulled on my apron and picked up one of the deep red roses. “I sure hope nobody tells her that the red rose suggests passion and the crimson rose is also a symbol of mourning.”
“Really?” Opie eyed one of the darker blooms. “Wicked.”
Amber Lee bit her lip.
“What?” I asked.
“Just thinking. Passion and mourning. A better analogy for marriage I never did hear.”
Liv playfully swatted her arm and we got working.
“So, Opie,” I said. “I’m supposed to work with Melanie and Carol tomorrow, I guess, in the stables for the tournament. Any pointers?”
“Yes,” she said. “Try not to laugh too hard.”
“Why would that be a temptation?” I asked.
“Don’t expect it to look like the equestrian events at the Olympics,” she said. “Or some old Errol Flynn movie. It’s more a bunch of middle-aged guys who’ve never been on a horse in their lives trying to perform stunts they can’t do. Monty Python was never so funny.”
“I’m surprised you know who Errol Flynn is,” Amber Lee said. “I’m impressed.”
“I always liked movies with horses in them. I rode quite a bit growing up. Did some jumping. Took either first or second in all the local competitions.”
“And you gave it up?” Liv asked.
Opie focused on the flowers in her hand, but I could see her throat working to swallow. Without lifting her eyes, she said, “Horse had to be put down. I guess I took it pretty hard. Dad said he’d get me a new one, but only if my grades got better. Back then he still had hopes I’d go to law school.”
“And you weren’t interested in another horse?” Amber Lee asked.
“Wouldn’t be the same. You can’t replace a horse like you can a car when it wears out. I told him exactly what he could do with his bribe, and that afternoon I went out and got my first tattoo. Here.” She lifted up the sleeve of her shirt to expose the rearing horse on her shoulder.
When we’d ooh’d and aah’d over the workmanship, she went on, “I do miss horses, though. That’s why I thought it would be fun to work in the stables.”
“Do Melanie and Carol like horses, too?”
“Carol, not so much. I mean, she can ride, but she’s not nuts for them. I think she might just want to work in a different place every year to learn the ropes.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Liv said.
“But what you should watch out for is the men,” Opie said.
“Even with Brooks dead?” I asked.
She laughed. “I didn’t mean that, but yes, when he was alive, the stable girls—that’s what we ended up being called—had to watch out for his advances. The other men aren’t nearly so forward. But what I meant is this: these guys go out there dressed up like fierce knights of the realm, trying to look like they know what they’re doing, and of course they fall, get banged up, and look like idiots. And then they go looking for someone to blame. Usually it’s the horse. But it’s often the stable girls.”
“Any of the stable girls Brooks was overly friendly with?”
“He was coming on to Carol pretty hard. But I guess Carol had a talk with him and he totally backed off.”
“What did she say to him?”
“No idea, but I wish I knew. Then he started asking me or Melanie to take care of his horse. We mostly avoided him, though.”
Opie then went into detail about how to treat the horse after an exertion, letting it cool down and withholding food until it was rested. “Melanie knows all that, though. She can step you through it.”
“Melanie’s good with horses, too?”
“You remember when I said I took first or second in all the local competitions? Well, if I was second, guess who was first.”
We listened to Opie chat on about horses while we finished up the rest of the wedding flowers. Before an hour had passed, we were almost done, so Liv hit the computer and sent Opie out on a delivery while Amber Lee and I finished up.
Amber Lee had just stuck a large pin in her last red rose boutonniere when the bell over the door chimed and she excused herself to check on the customer. Moments later she ushered Brad back into the room. He was showered and changed and wearing street clothes instead of his Peter Pan outfit.
“What brings you to the current millennium?” I asked.
“Well, I just got good news and bad news,” he said.
“Could use some good news,” I said.
“Here goes. The National Guard got partial control of the fire and opened the road, meaning my crew is no longer trapped at that farmhouse. Good thing, because that gouger expects me to pay him rent.”
I couldn’t help a smile. “I guess that is good news. They’ll be here in time for the tournament, at least.”
His face fell.
“Is that the bad news?”
He nodded. “They cleared the road leading away from town first, and since we missed so much of this one, I made the executive decision to send the crew home.”
“Oh, Brad. Does that mean your pilot is canceled?”
“Not at all. It just means we have to wait for the next camp, and I’m kind of excited. Now that I think about it, I’m convinced it will be an even better location.”
“Where is it held?”
“Florida,” he said. “Bordering some swampland.” We must not have looked
as excited as he wanted us to, because he put his arm around me, pointed at the blank door of the cooler, and said, “Think about it. Knights in armor, shining in the Florida sun. Damsels in tall hats. And get this, gators. Knights and gators.”
“I don’t—”
“Oh, it’s a glorious concept, don’t you think? The network is excited. Said they had a sponsor who loved the idea of Tropical Knights. This could go viral. Like Sharknado.”
“How do they justify gators in the Middle Ages?” Opie asked.
“I think they call them dragons,” Brad said, almost giddily. He rubbed his hands together. “There be dragons in yon bog!”
I wasn’t so sure, but Brad looked excited.
“But that also means that I’m available to escort you this afternoon,” he said, “if you want to go back to the camp and poke around.”
I looked at Liv.
“You might as well.” Liv palmed the rest of the stems and leaves from the table and threw them in the trash. “Your wedding work is done, and we don’t have that much work ahead.”
But then the bell rang again.
“After I take care of this customer,” I said. “I think I’m getting out of practice.”
But when I walked to the front of the shop, nobody was there. I paced through the shop to make sure no customer was in the consulting nook or behind the large autumn display. I shrugged, chalking it up to buyer’s remorse. Moments later, however, Opie opened the door, squinting as she came in from the bright sunlight.
“Did you just open the door?” I asked.
“No, just got here. Hey, did you find that yellow cloak of yours? The urine one?”
“No, I haven’t.” I went to the door and peeked out, but couldn’t see anybody who might have tried the door.
When I turned to look back, I noticed an envelope on the floor. I picked it up and pulled a folded sheet of paper from it.
“That’s funny,” Opie went on. “Because I just saw someone wearing it, walking down Main Street.”
“Did he open the door of the shop?”
“She, from the looks of it. I don’t know. She had already passed the shop when I rounded the corner.”
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