Bewitching Boots (23 page)

He gazed critically at my face. “You
do
seem rattled. Perhaps some tea from Mrs. Potts would help. Honey is most healing too.”

“If you’re going, honey cookies would be most healing of all.” I smiled. “Thanks, Manny.”

He bowed elegantly. Two older women waiting to see Bill took Manny’s picture.

“I will never become accustomed to that,” he said.

“Then you shouldn’t do such cute Ren Faire things.”

He scowled as he left for the Honey and Herb Shoppe. I sat down on a chair near the door to give out information about Bill and his new shop to visitors coming into the museum.

Now that Bill had his elf mojo back, he was in great form again. He was flirting and laughing with the ladies as they tried on his boots. He told his stories about his shoemaker ancestors, including his story about Cinderella’s glass slippers.

“So my great-great grandfather says to Cinderella’s fairy godmother, ‘Why glass slippers? They could break and cut her feet.’ And the fairy godmother says, ‘Because they’ll make her big feet look smaller.’ Can you believe it?”

The women loved him. They laughed at his jokes and bought his boots like there were no other boots in the world. I didn’t know if he really had elf magic or not, but he believed it and thought it made him a better, more interesting person. That was all that mattered.

Manny returned with my tea and honey cookies. He was right too. I felt much better after I’d had them. Maybe my missing clothes were all in my head.

We closed the museum for lunch so all three of us could have a break. Bill was returning to his dart game that I’d interrupted at the pub. Though it still made me shudder to think about it, it was his life. I couldn’t keep him out of trouble all the time.

Chase, Manny, and I ate lunch at one of the outdoor picnic tables set in the shade of a huge magnolia tree. I was hoping Wanda might see us there and come by to laugh at what she’d done at the apartment that morning. But she didn’t show. I finally gave up and went back to work.

Afternoon crowds at the Village were always morning beach people who came in bikini tops and smelled like sun block. I thought they were probably bored with the ocean and looking for something else to do. I was glad that they’d chosen us instead of shopping on the boardwalk.

Everyone loved Bill and bought so many pairs of sandals that I had to send out for more materials to keep him going.

“This exhibit has done extremely well,” Manny said as we surveyed the crowd who watched Bill at his table. “We should have no problem getting a new exhibit.”

“I kind of promised Luke Helms at the pipe shop that we’d host him here next. I’ll have to run that by Adventureland and see what they think. But I like the idea. It’s good to exhibit some of the items made by the older residents too.”

“I saw him at the Honey and Herb Shoppe. He seems to be spending a lot of time there. Mrs. Potts was sitting with him. I believe they were holding hands.”

“I was right! Maybe that’s my gift. Madame Lucinda said I have a gift. I was hoping it wasn’t anything to do with dead people.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

I told him about my encounter with Isabelle in the castle garden. “All that, and I don’t think I learned anything from her. Detective Almond is investigating Rita now. She admits that she didn’t call 911 right away after she found Isabelle in the garden. I don’t think she’s a killer.”

“But how can you be sure? You said both women wanted the red-haired gentleman. Perhaps they fought over him.”

“I don’t know. Rita could have been the killer and made it look like someone beat her up, but I’ve known her for a long time. She’s just not that kind of person.”

Manny shook his head. “People will do wonderful and terrible things when they are in the throes of passion. You might know Rita when she is herself. You might not recognize her as a woman in love.”

I thought about what he’d said the rest of the afternoon. As usual, the day was hot, and we had a quick shower around four p.m. Almost all of the visitors stayed in the Village until the rain had passed. The storm ruined a few of the more outlandish costumes worn by our wannabe actors. If they couldn’t stand up to a little rain, they probably wouldn’t make it.

The Main Gate closed at six with all the usual fanfare. The visitors leaving that afternoon received a special treat—a visit from King Harold, Queen Olivia, and Princess Pea. They were accompanied by both their retinues, and were in full royal gear. Their ladies and gentlemen gave out a few hundred free passes to the King’s Feast on Sunday evening. Most visitors were thrilled to see the royal family and even
more
excited to receive the free passes.

“Any sign of Wanda yet?” Chase asked as he joined me on the museum stairs overlooking the crowds at the gate.

“Nope. It’s been quiet—except for the legions of Bill’s fans. He’s going to be a hit here, as long as he keeps his elf magic.”

He sat beside me. “You think he really has magic?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. He believes, and he’s better with it. I think we sold a thousand pairs of sandals to the afternoon beach-bunny crowd.”

“That’s great. Adventureland is going to know that you can pick great exhibits.”

We watched as the crowds slowly dwindled away. Visitors found their transportation home and went their separate ways. Residents began drifting to their homes for the evening. There was a rhythm to life here, as odd as it might be.

Chase’s radio went off. There was a small child on top of the rock-climbing wall. No one knew how he got up there, especially not his alarmed parents.

Chase and I exchanged looks—“Wanda!” we both yelled at once.

We raced across the cobblestones to reach the wall. A sizable group of residents and visitors had lingered there to watch the drama.

While Chase began the climb up the wall to get the crying toddler, I searched the crowd. “Wanda?” I whispered her name. “Are you here? Show yourself.”

It only took a moment. She appeared to me with a sly smile on her blue face. “Don’t tell me you’re finally warming up to me, Jessie. After all this time. All I had to do was die to have you like me.”

“I
knew
you’d be here. What’s with putting the kid up there?”

She stared at Chase as he climbed the wall. “Don’t you love a little drama as the Village is closing? I know I do. The perfect end to a perfect day.”

I shook my head. I was never going to change, or understand her. “How did you get back into my apartment?”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t been in there since I was banished.”

“You were there this morning. You moved my clothes, and made me have that vision of Isabelle again. Don’t deny it. How did you do it?”

Her ghastly blue face turned serious. “You should get out of this sun, Jessie. You’re obviously overheated. I didn’t get into your apartment—even though the entire event you’ve described sounds like enormous fun. Perhaps your other ghostly friend, Princess Isabelle, is responsible. Two ghosts might be more than you can handle and stay sane. See you later.”

She disappeared as a loud
Huzzah!
went up from the crowd. Chase had reached the child on the wall and was bringing him down safely.

I believed Wanda about her not being in the apartment. I didn’t know who else would do such a thing, or why, but I knew her well enough to know she would have rubbed my face in the fact that she’d managed to break through the spell.

Knowing it wasn’t her didn’t make me feel any better. Wanda was annoying, but at least I understood her. Wondering who else would go to such lengths to scare me was worse. What was going on?

Chapter Twenty-two

The boy was brought safely to the ground. His alternately crying and laughing parents hugged him and kissed him. There were several rounds of
Huzzahs!
The security guards escorted the remaining visitors to the Main Gate.

As usual, there were a handful of teenagers who’d managed to stay beyond closing time. There were thousands of places to hide in the Village. Some managed not to be seen until morning. Chase never liked when that happened.

He had another meeting with the security guards before dinner. I decided to go to the castle and take another look around the garden and Isabelle’s suite. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. It just seemed to me if there were answers to be found, they’d be there.

Gus wasn’t at the castle gate again. It wasn’t like him to shirk his gatekeeping responsibilities. I didn’t plan to mention it to Chase, though, since I knew what was going on. Gus had a right to his own life. Who knew how long this affair of his would last anyway?

I started in the garden. I knew the police and Village security had thoroughly searched this area. There probably wasn’t anything left to find. But the scene between Isabelle and Rita haunted me. Manny was right about not knowing a person until you had seen them in love or some other emotional circumstance. I was sure Rita had reacted to Isabelle in a way she would have normally never considered. There was still a chalk outline of Isabelle’s stricken form on the stones. The police had made sure everyone knew where it had happened. The reminder would be gone when the maintenance crew cleaned the patio again. For now, it was a terrible tribute.

I looked at the outline and then up at the terrace. Rita and Dwayne were both physically capable of lifting Isabelle and throwing her into the garden. So was Bill for that matter.

Who else was strong enough to do the deed and had a reason to kill Isabelle?

I already knew that Isabelle’s retinue was accounted for during that time. It was hard to imagine any of her ladies having the strength to lift her. There were a few jugglers and fools who were always hanging around. Maybe it was one of them.

The garden was close to Gus’s post at the castle gate. I heard him return, slightly drunk, if his voice was any indication. Curiosity made me wonder who he was seeing outside the castle. It was unusual not to have heard any gossip regarding his romance. Everyone knew even when the romance stayed behind the castle walls. He’d done a good job hiding it if he was seeing someone who lived in the Village.

I walked through the castle and upstairs to Isabelle’s suite. It was dark and empty. I switched on the light. Already changes were being made. There were gallons of pink paint for the walls, and boxes containing Isabelle’s personal items. It was a lovely suite of rooms—not surprising that Princess Pea would take them.  

No one had touched the closets yet. Isabelle’s clothes were still neatly stored away. Her large bed was still in place too. Those would probably be the next things to go.

I searched through everything that was left—Isabelle’s hairbrush, jewelry, and other small intimate items. I opened one of her drawers and found several slutty magazines. Did anyone really
know
Isabelle? She’d been a pretend princess here for so long. Did she remember who she really was?

I felt something move past me and jumped back a foot or two. My heart was pounding when I saw a dark burgundy gown that had been in the closet just a moment before. It was set out on the bed as though invisible hands had been getting it ready for Isabelle to change clothes.

It reminded me too much of what had happened at the apartment. I felt cold all over and turned to leave.

Dresses, royal ball gowns, riding and street clothes began to move around the room. The material rushed by from the closets to the bed. Some of the garments struck me as I tried to reach the door. The clothes heaped themselves on top of the burgundy gown. They were joined by undergarments, hats, and shoes.

Inside the colorful whirl of clothing, I stifled a scream as I reached the door to the suite.

It wouldn’t open. I jerked at it again and again, but it wouldn’t budge. I set my back against it, and watched in fascinated horror as the closets emptied themselves on the bed.

“Isabelle! Why are you doing this? What are you trying to tell me?”

There was no reply, and no glowing vision of her. The clothes and accessories kept flying out of the closets and drawers. I didn’t understand what she was trying to say. Leave it to her to try to tell me something important with clothes!

“Okay. Clothes. Something about laying out clothes. You want to tell me about your clothes. Is it what you want done with them? Is there something special about your clothes?”

No answer. The clothes that had been in the air on their way to the bed suddenly dropped to the carpet. Maybe I’d correctly guessed some part of the puzzle. I searched frantically through my mind trying to figure out what it was. “I’ll help if you tell me what you want.”

That was wrong too. The clothes that had been on the bed started coming toward me. I was pelted with satin, lace, velvet, and leather. It only took a few seconds before I was covered in clothing. The shoes kind of hurt as they smacked me.

“All right. That’s not what you wanted,” I yelled in frustration. “I don’t do signs and omens. Please make it plainer for me. You know what you want to say. I don’t.”

The clothes stopped again. That was a relief. I battled my way out from under them—a six-foot heap of materials that slid down the door when I moved.

The only thing left on the bed was the burgundy gown. It was perfectly laid out with underwear, shoes, and stockings.

I studied it, but I still didn’t get it. Did she want me to wear the gown? It wasn’t the gown that she was wearing when she’d died.

As I watched, the long gown drifted into the air and moved slowly toward the doors that led to the terrace. It stopped until I could open the door. Then the gown fluttered by me and out onto the terrace.

I followed. The gown reached the railing before it went up and over—stopping only when it had reached the garden. It landed between the white chalk outline where Isabelle had fallen, exactly as her body had.

I stood there looking at it for a few minutes. My imagination wasn’t enough to take me where the ghostly gown wanted me to be. If Isabelle wanted me to jump down after it, she was crazier in death than she had been in life.