But if the Bonny Blade had sold the weapon, maybe there was a way we could help the chief. I had no idea if they kept good records on their purchasers. Faulk and I did, and used the information to let past customers know when we were doing upcoming events in their area. I didn’t think the owners of the Bonny Blade were that organized, but you never knew. But even if they had no records at all, we could still give the chief some useful data. When someone bought a weapon, whether it was a cheap ankle dagger from the Bonny Blade or one of Faulk’s massive Crusader swords in damascene steel, they didn’t get to take it with them—we tried to discourage weapons on the grounds except in the hands of Cordelia and the few actors who were stage combat experts. We’d walk with our purchasers to the gate and force them to attach the very anachronistic bright-orange peace-bonding strips if we couldn’t talk them into depositing the weapon for safekeeping in the ticket office, where its owner could claim it on his or her way out. And just to avoid problems, every weapon was methodically entered into a log book, and signed for by the purchaser when claimed. We even insisted on getting the purchasers’ names, addresses, and emails or phone numbers, since we quickly realized that some people—under the influence of too much mead, perhaps—forgot about their newly purchased toys until they arrived at home without them.
I was about to call the chief to tell her about the weapon log when someone behind me called out my name.
“Meg?”
I turned to see Lenny, the other half of the palace guard. For that matter, probably the whole of the palace guard until Horace finished his forensic work. He was tall and lanky, with an open, honest-looking freckled face and hair so short and blond that you could easily see the matching freckles on his scalp.
“What’s up?” I asked him.
“I’m helping the chief—have you seen Tad and Faulk?”
“Not since yesterday afternoon,” I said. “No idea about Tad, but by now Faulk should be in the smithy.”
“I’ll check there again.” He turned to go.
“Again? You already checked?”
“Yeah, but that was a while ago.” He furtively pulled a wristwatch out of his tunic and stole a quick glance at it. “Half an hour ago. You’re probably right. He should be there by now.”
Lenny had no ability to hide what he was thinking. Probably something he’d have to work on if he wanted to go far in his law enforcement career, but useful to me at the moment. Most of the time his expression reflected his generally cheerful nature, but right now he looked worried.
“Did you check his tent?” I asked aloud.
“Yes.” Lenny looked more worried. “He wasn’t there. Neither was Tad. And their van wasn’t in the staff parking lot when I looked there.”
Not good. Of course, it didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the murder. Maybe they’d had to run up to D.C. for something connected with Tad’s firing.
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” I said aloud.
“And I’ll check their tent again.” He turned to leave.
“Let me know if you find one of them,” I said. “And I’ll do the same, of course. Any idea why the chief is looking for them?”
“She wants to use that big room across the way from Ms. Cordelia’s office as a sort of common room for the officers involved in the investigation, but there’s all this stuff there that someone told her belongs to Tad. She wants to see if he can pack it up before the officers move in.”
“If I find him, I’ll tell him,” I said. “And if he’s disappeared off the face of the planet I’ll arrange for someone to clear the room. Or just do it myself.”
“Thanks, ma’am.”
Even if Tad hadn’t disappeared off the face of the planet, I doubted he’d have any problem with me arranging to pack up his electronics gear. He wasn’t likely to be doing another round of green-screen broadcasting anytime soon.
As I strolled toward the main house, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Tad’s number. It went to voicemail.
“Hey, Tad,” I said when the beep had given me the go-ahead. “Cordelia needs to use the room where your green-screen equipment is—I’m going to get it all safely packed and move it into the storage room for safekeeping. It’s nine thirty. If you get this before, say ten thirty, come up to the main house and help. If you don’t, don’t worry about it. Talk to you later.”
So why wasn’t Tad here? Or Faulk? Didn’t they realize how suspicious this looked when—?
I had to laugh at myself, which startled two craftspeople who happened to be passing. I felt a pang of guilt when I realized they were both scanning their costumes for something that could have inspired my mirth. I wanted to run after them and apologize. Explain that I was laughing at my own short sightedness.
Because no, Tad and Faulk probably didn’t realize how suspicious it looked, being AWOL from where they were expected to be this morning. If they’d had to go someplace last night, for whatever reason, they probably didn’t even know about the murder yet.
Lenny was checking Tad and Faulk’s tent. It wouldn’t be that far out of my way to drop by the forge.
The forge was still dark as I approached, and its shutters were locked up tight. But then as I approached one swung open.
I quickened my pace. It wasn’t necessarily Faulk. The boys had been spending more and more time helping out at the forge.
But as I drew near, relief washed over me. It was Faulk, now sitting on a stool in the small side room that served as our shop. But relief turned to concern when I reached the doorway to the shop.
He was just sitting there with his eyes closed. And he looked terrible. His face was ashen and drawn. I’d met his father once, not long before the old man died—not a happy memory, since the many things the elder Mr. Cates disapproved of included anything and anyone connected with what he called Faulk’s “feckless vagabond blue-collar existence.” Back then I’d had a hard time seeing any resemblance between Faulk and his father. Today I could see it all too well.
Something was definitely wrong with Faulk.
Chapter 19
Faulk looked up, noticed me, and tried to rearrange his features into a less bleak expression.
“What’s wrong?”
We’d said it almost simultaneously. Faulk laughed and looked a little more like himself—but only a little.
“I’d claim that I asked first,” he said. “Pretty sure it was a dead heat, though. How about ‘I got here first’?”
“Have you heard about Terence?” I asked.
“Not him again.” Faulk grimaced. “What’s he done now?”
“Got himself murdered,” I said.
Faulk blinked a couple of times, as if he was having trouble deciphering what I’d said. Then his mouth fell open and he seemed to be groping for something to say.
“You’re not kidding, are you?” he said finally.
“’Fraid not.”
“Damn.” He shook his head slowly. “I won’t pretend I’m going to miss him. But I’m sorry for him. I’m a big fan of people getting to live to a ripe old age and die painlessly in their sleep. Even monumentally annoying people. Do they know who did it?”
I shook my head.
“I presume the police will be swarming all over the Faire today, then.” He smiled, a little wanly. “So spill. Where and when and how?”
“Out in the woods behind the fairgrounds early this morning,” I said. “Or possibly late last night. I think the police are checking on everyone’s alibis between midnight and dawn.”
“Oh, great.” He grimaced and blew out a long breath.
Not the utterly unconcerned reaction I’d been hoping for. But not panic, either.
“After that stunt Terence pulled on Tad yesterday—”
“The police will want to know our whereabouts.” He nodded. “I guess we’re better off than most people.”
“You can alibi each other.”
“And the whole ER staff can alibi the two of us.”
“ER staff? Wh
at happened?” I didn’t see any bandages. Bandages might be preferable to some of the dire possibilities that flitted through my mind. Then again, maybe Tad was sporting the bandages and Faulk was merely exhausted from being up all night.
“Long story.”
I pushed down the panicky thought that it was a longer story than he had the energy to tell.
“We’ve got some time before opening,” I said. “So—ER in which hospital?”
“Whatever the nearest one is.” He chuckled. “At least I assume Tad found the nearest. Me, I’d have been panicking and waking up people to ask for directions, but he just typed ‘hospital’ into his phone and off we went.”
Presumably the hospital in the next county. I knew Riverton itself had no hospital—they’d only recently acquired an urgent care center.
“I deduce you were the patient, then,” I said aloud.
He nodded again.
“And you’re not going to tell me what happened?”
“Just a little cardiac false alarm.”
Damn.
“You want Dad to check you out? Not that I want to cast doubts on the abilities of the doctors at whatever hospital—”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “And your dad’s probably busy with the murder anyway—is he getting on the local medical examiner’s nerves yet?”
“No, they seem to be buddies. He’ll be hurt if he finds out you went to the ER and didn’t even tell him afterward.” For that matter, I was curious why they hadn’t checked with Dad before dashing off to the hospital.
“I’ll check in with him later.” He smiled. “Don’t worry—I’m never one to turn down free medical care. I might have awakened him before dashing off to the ER. Tad was hell-bent on getting me back to civilization, as he called it.”
“Maybe we should cut back on our scheduled demonstrations,” I said. “After getting up when it was still dark to take Grandfather owling, I’m already so beat that I was hoping to finagle you into doing my first demo today, so I could take a nap. But you look as if you need the rest more than I do.”
“Probably wise.” Faulk sounded reluctant. And a little wistful, as if in saying so he’d surrendered something cherished. “I’m supposed to be resting, and given what’s happened, I’m sure you’ll be busier than ever.”
“Look,” I began—and I was intending to keep pressing until he told me exactly why he’d ended up in the ER overnight. But my phone dinged to signal an arriving message. I pulled it out to look.
“The chief wants me,” I said. “Probably because she wants me to clear out the room in which Tad was using all his green-screen equipment. She plans to use it for her investigation. I left a message for him about that, but he probably hasn’t had time to listen yet, so if you see him anytime soon, ask him to come up to the main house to help.”
“Will do.” He seemed more comfortable now that the conversation wasn’t about his health.
“And I’ll make sure the boys are here by opening time, and you can let them do the lion’s share of the work.”
“I won’t say no. Now run along and help the police with their investigation.”
“They’ll want to interview you, too.”
“I figured as much. If I’m not here, I’ll be in my tent.”
He stood up and began erasing the chalkboard on which we kept our schedule of demonstrations. I paused long enough to text Lenny that Faulk was in the forge, then hurried off toward the main house.
The energy level had picked up, as it usually did in the last hour before the opening bell. Cooks at some of the food venues were firing up their grills. Down by the jousting field several of the knights, still dressed in jeans and t-shirts, were riding their horses around the ring, in what I assumed was a warm-up. Madame Destiny and her mother sat in front of the fortune-telling tent, studying a tarot layout with intense concentration. Craftspeople were arranging the wares on the front counters of their booths. The glassblower had started his furnace. A perfectly normal start to the Faire.
Up at the main house, nothing was normal. A dirty white panel truck was parked right in front of the building, with two Riverton deputies watching over it. The chief was standing in the doorway, looking mildly annoyed. Which was about as agitated as you ever saw her, so I figured things must be going very badly.
“There’s Meg now.” Her face cleared. “Do you know where we can find a wheelbarrow or something? When Horace is finished searching Mr. Cox’s tent, we want to bring it and the contents up here to secure them.”
“I’m sure we have a wheelbarrow on the grounds somewhere,” I said. “Finding it’s going to be the problem. How about if we haul the stuff up here in the horse-drawn cart we use for kiddie rides?”
“That would work.” The chief’s expression showed that she found my suggestion acceptable, if odd. I texted the driver of the cart to ask her to bring it up to the main house ASAP. “I have an interviewee waiting for me. A Ms.”—she checked her notebook—“Willowdale? Could that possibly be correct?”
“I suspect it’s a stage name,” I said. “But legal now—it’s what we have on her payroll forms.”
“Willowdale it is, then. Incidentally, I’ve been told you can deal with the equipment that’s currently in the studio opposite—”
“Tad’s equipment, yes.” I set off toward the craft wing. “That’s what I came up here for, to deal with it. I already left Tad a message that we needed to move his stuff, but—”
“He and Mr. Cates still appear to be absent.” She had fallen into step beside me, her face impassive.
“They’re back,” I said. “I just talked to Faulk down at the forge. Tad had to take him down to the ER.”
“In Jessop?” The chief’s tone suggested she found this interesting.
“If that’s the nearest ER.”
“Not much of an ER. Hope there was nothing serious wrong.” The chief’s dismissive tone reminded me that there was a long-standing tension between Riverton and the surrounding county—of which Jessop was, presumably, the county seat.
“A cardiac false alarm, according to Faulk.”
“He should get it checked out someplace that actually knows what they’re doing,” the chief said. “Most people go down to Richmond if they have anything that’s beyond the urgent care clinic. Or up to Fairfax or Loudoun. I’ll suggest that when I talk to them.”
We had reached the lower floor of the studio wing, and passed between the racks of yesterday’s costumes to reach our destination. Someone had placed a couple of dining room chairs in the corridor outside Cordelia’s office. Dianne, already dressed in the lace-trimmed pink-and-blue gown she wore on Saturdays, was sitting in one, busily texting on her phone. She glanced up when we arrived, and I could tell she was working hard on maintaining the solemn expression she seemed to feel was appropriate for the occasion.
“Ms. Willowdale.” The chief’s face didn’t show the slightest hint of how implausible she’d found the name only a few minutes ago. She ushered Dianne into Cordelia’s office and shut the door.
I pulled out my phone and glanced at it. Still half an hour till the opening bell. And I had nothing mission-critical to do in the first few minutes of the Faire. I could at least make a start at clearing out Tad’s stuff.
It was easier than I expected. He’d obviously come back sometime and begun to pack. The green screens and the light aluminum frame that had held them up had been taken down, and presumably packed in several large black cases that were conveniently equipped with wheels. Another open case had a foam insert with dents that were exactly the right size and shape to cradle the large, flat monitor. I gathered up the various cords, cables, clamps, and other miscellaneous bits of electronic flotsam and stuffed them into an empty black nylon duffle bag. If that wasn’t where they belonged, Tad could sort them out later. Then I dragged the cases down the hall to the storage room and locked them up there. My eye fell on Terence’s battered cardboard boxes. I should tell the chief about them.
Just then the opening bell rang and I had to fight a quick stab of guilt that for the first time I wasn’t there watching as the gates opened. Maybe that was why I didn’t feel the surge of joy and excitement that the opening bell usually inspired.
I was writing out a note to Tad, telling him what I’d done with his stuff, when Dianne emerged from Cordelia’s office and hurried off toward the stairs that led up to the main floor.
The chief followed more slowly and frowned when she saw that the two chairs outside her door were empty.
“I’ve packed up Tad’s things and moved them into storage,” I said. “And now I’m going to head out and find you some more witnesses to talk to.”
“Good.” She glanced at her notebook and then up at me. “Ms. Willowdale seems to be under the impression that Mr. Cox was about to be fired. I thought he was on probation—not quite the same thing.”
“Cordelia had a long talk with him last night,” I said. “And made it very clear that he’d used up all his chances. One more offense and he was gone. But she knew she might be inviting legal hassles if she didn’t give him at least one chance to shape up. Dianne, on the other hand, was a fellow employee, so there’d be nothing to keep her from expressing her opinion on how likely he was to succeed in that shaping-up thing.”
The chief nodded.
“One more thing—” she began.
My phone vibrated. I pulled it out and glanced down to see who was calling.
Chapter 20
“I should probably take this if it’s okay with you,” I said after I’d checked my phone. “It’s the front gate, and they don’t generally call unless they have a problem.”
The chief waved her consent and I caught the call before it went to voicemail.
The Falcon Always Wings Twice Page 13