A Midsummer Eve's Nightmare

The Elizabeth & Richard Mystery Series

Shadow of Reality
- Book #1

A Midsummer Eve's Nightmare
- Book #2

To Stan,

My partner in crime,

Resident philosopher

And hero

and

To Daughter-in-law

Catherine,

Our favorite Shakespearean actress

To Find the True

The love of Truth is the beginning of wisdom.

But what is Truth?

Where is Truth?

I read the philosophers.

I read the poets.

I read the theologs.

I could not choose—

Could not divide

The one from the others.

Confusion reigned.

Where was the beauty of order?

Chaos cannot beget Truth.

Order begets Truth.

Harmony begets Truth.

Beauty begets Truth.

The mind of God begets Truth.

At last I knew.

Truth was not mine for the choosing.

Truth is found in its Creator.

Cast of Characters

Elizabeth Allerton Spenser - Honeymooner

Richard Spenser - Honeymooner

Victoria (Tori) Allerton - Sister to Elizabeth

Gregg Parkin - Othello, Orsino, Elbow

Erin Renton - Desdemona, Olivia

Dirk Theison - Consort to Miss Renton

Sally Wallace - Understudy to Miss Renton

Trevor Stevens - Director

Larry Bohanon - Friend to Miss Wallace

Detective Sergeant Frank Lempson - Ashland Police

Detective Rory Fellows - Ashland Police

Prologue

The last Saturday in June, 1990

THE CLEAR SUN OF a late June afternoon streaked through the ruby, sapphire and topaz stained glass windows of the little chapel nestled at the root of the Rockies.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony. . .

“Richard Dean Spenser, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony. . .?”

Richard looked at Elizabeth: her short, dark curls under a poufy veil held in a circlet of baby’s breath, her deep, dark eyes shining at him beneath their heavy lashes, her fragile looks that made the strength and intelligence underneath all the more wonderful. He smiled as he longed to tell her again how her liveliness had filled the gaping hole in his sterile, academic existence, and her shining joy had enlivened his faith and his life.

But a firm “I will” was all he was allowed.

“Elizabeth Faith Allerton, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband. . .?”

Elizabeth looked at Richard: his long, kind face, his gentle intelligent eyes above his slow, loving smile. It was all there in his beloved face—the pain he had suffered at the death of his wife and child, the joy she and Richard had found working together—their shared love offering a new life. She felt the firm, sure grip of his long-fingered hands. How could there ever have been a time when she doubted him? A time when she didn’t realize her whole happiness was embodied in this man?

She was shaking inside, but her voice was steady, “I will.”

Richard took the ring the priest held out to him. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship. . .” As Richard slipped the gold band on his beloved’s finger the significance of the words flooded over him. Elizabeth, sharing his love of the beauty of the language of
The Book of Common Prayer,
had insisted on using the oldest form of the wedding ceremony.
With my body I thee worship
, surely among the most moving words in the English language.

The pale silk of Elizabeth’s medieval-style gown rustled as they stepped forward, hand-in-hand, and knelt at the altar. “O eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy name. . .”

At the end of the prayer, with their hearts beating in unison, Elizabeth’s cousin, in a peach and ivory floral dress designed by the bride’s sister Victoria, that looked as if it had simply been plucked from an old English garden, played Schubert’s “Lord’s Prayer” on the violin.

“Forasmuch as Richard and Elizabeth have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company. . . I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, in the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

With their joy enfolding them and shining on all their guests, the bride and groom walked down the aisle to the triumphant strains of Clarke’s “Trumpet Voluntary.”

The gazebo outside the student center of Rocky Mountain College was banked with the same natural ferns and wild daisies that had adorned the college chapel and made a perfect setting for the wedding couple to meet their guests. In the background a chamber orchestra sat beside a gentle splashing fountain and played Vivaldi and Corelli while guests sipped punch and ate fruit salad. Although they had determined on a small wedding, it seemed to Elizabeth that she had been standing there greeting guests for hours before she and Richard were free to turn to their family standing with them in the gazebo.

While Richard clasped the hand of his brother Andrew who had served as his best man, Elizabeth hugged each of Drew’s children: five-year-old Ryan in white satin knee breeches and the six-year-old twins, Alice and Alana, in fairy dresses, her junior attendants. “You were wonderful! Titania herself couldn’t have had better pages. When summer school is over I want you to bring your mother and Grandma Spenser over from Denver, and we’ll have a real tea party with lots of sticky goodies.” Elizabeth’s own mother had died ten years ago, so she was looking forward to making friends with the elegant lady that was Richard’s mother.

“Can we wear our crowns, too?” Alana touched the ribbons streaming from her floral circlet.

“Of course you can. The flowers will dry and you can wear them lots if you’re careful.”

“And those dresses your Aunt Tori made for you.” Elizabeth’s maid-of-honor sister joined them.

“Victoria!” Elizabeth hugged her sister. “The dresses are perfect. I don’t know how you managed to translate my ideas so perfectly.”

“What else could two ivory tower English professors possibly get married in but something they might have worn at Chaucer’s wedding?” Tori made a deep curtsey. “Besides, producing magic is what a costume designer for the best Shakespearean festival in the country gets paid for.”

“That sounds like a commercial.” Richard turned from his silver-haired father to kiss his new sister-in-law on her cheek.

“Well, in a way it is. What I’ve been wanting to say to you two all day, but haven’t had the chance is—since you’re only taking a weekend at Vail now, why don’t you do a real honeymoon in Ashland as soon as you’re through teaching this summer?”

Elizabeth clasped Richard’s hands. “Oh, Richard, what a wonderful idea! I haven’t been to Ashland for years. Our parents used to take us every summer when we were teenagers. And,” she smiled enticingly at him, “it’s one of the most romantic spots on earth.”

Before Richard could answer, Victoria cut in a little nervously, “Yes, it is—romantic and beautiful and all that—but I should warn you. There’s something more . . . I don’t know what . . . but something is wrong.”

It was the only chill Elizabeth felt on her wedding day, and only a very slight shiver at that. But she didn’t forget it.

Chapter 1

A MONTH LATER, THE rolling hillsides of southwest Oregon’s Rogue River Valley were a bright wheat gold splashed with patches of deep green fir trees as Richard and Elizabeth drove in their little rented car from the Medford Airport to their honeymoon in Ashland.

Elizabeth sighed and rested her head lightly on Richard’s shoulder. “All this and Shakespeare, too.”

The past weeks of finishing up their summer school sessions had been particularly hectic. Now she was determined to relax with her new husband and revel in every minute of the old English atmosphere the Oregon Shakespearean Festival offered.

They turned off the freeway and drove up Siskyou Boulevard, Elizabethan banners flying from flower-decked poles lining the street before Tudor-fronted shops. “Turn in at the Festival Center. Victoria said she’d meet us there,” Elizabeth directed.

They had barely started walking across the red brick courtyard, however, when Elizabeth’s sister seemed to burst forth from a bank of gold, pink and white flowers. “Lizbet! Richard! I’m so glad you’re here!” She flung her arms around Richard first, then seemed to cling to her sister with an air of desperation.

“Tori, what is it? Has something happened?”

Victoria’s laugh sounded forced. “No, no. Just the usual mid-season turmoil, everyone assures me. Of course, this is my first season here, so what would I know?” She hugged her sister again, and Elizabeth could feel her heart pounding.

“I thought you had to work this afternoon.”

“Oh, costume repair. I got that done.” She shivered. “It was an awful gash, though. One of our sword fights went astray last night. They’re so well rehearsed—choreographed, really—that shouldn’t happen.”

“Bet it gave the audience a thrill.” Richard grinned at her reassuringly.

“It gave Gregg a thrill.” Tori’s voice was light, but she didn’t smile. Then she gave herself a little shake. “Well, where do you want to start? Your place, my place, the theatre?”

“Our place.” Elizabeth and Richard spoke together.

“Honeymooners.” Tori rolled her eyes. She got in the little red car with them and directed Richard up a winding drive to the wooded hills beyond the Festival Center where charming old Victoria houses sat among the trees. “I checked out every bed and breakfast within walking distance of my apartment. This is the best.”

And indeed, it was superb. The Bard’s Haven was a three-story, grey house with ornamented gables and turrets facing every direction. The wide front porch offered wicker rockers with padded footstools and a double-wide swinging hammock. Inside, the gentle strains of “Greensleeves” came to them from a parlor lavished in floral chintz while Mrs. Landor, their cheery, energetic hostess with square-cut grey hair and a well-scrubbed complexion, made them welcome. Their room was in the south turret, a round room with windows on every side of the big brass bed covered with a hand-crocheted coverlet. Mrs. Landor opened a window. Fresh air ruffled the lace curtains. “Your bath is through there.” She pointed hastily just as Elizabeth started to ask about the utility of the large blue-flowered bowl and pitcher on the oak dresser.

It was wonderful, Elizabeth thought, but how was she going to get rid of their hovering guides? After all, this was their honeymoon, and she had had all too little of her husband’s undivided attention lately. She meant to make up for that now.

Apparently Tori took the hint when Elizabeth gazed up at Richard for a full three seconds. “Er, yeah. Well, we’ll leave you two lovebirds now. Sorry I didn’t think to bring your tickets for tonight or you could have just gone straight to the theatre. You’ll have to stop by my place to pick them up.” She handed Richard her address on a slip of paper. “Don’t be late. You don’t want to miss the Greenshow.”

The door hadn’t quite clicked shut before Elizabeth was unpacking. And she didn’t bother to unpack completely. She began unbuttoning her blouse as soon as she pulled her French watercolor floral caftan out of her suitcase. It would look perfect on that crocheted bedspread— with her in it. But not for long, she hoped.

Her plan worked perfectly—for about ten minutes. The ringing phone in the hall didn’t bother her. Only Tori knew where they were. And she understood.

Then Mrs. Landor knocked on the door. Richard gave her one more quick kiss before she rolled off the bed.