Perilous Pranks (Renaissance Faire Mystery) (2 page)

Manny and I walked around a madman in the street. Madmen were respected members of the community. Their entertainment value was tremendous, especially when no shows were going on.

They wore britches and shirts with holes in them, frequently rubbing themselves with sand or dirt. They hit pots and pans together and grabbed at ladies’ skirts. Kids loved them.

“You’re sitting in front of the museum.” Manny pointed out to the madman. “Would you mind terribly moving one way or the other?”

Dave the Madman refused. “This is where the guild told me to be today. Maybe you should take it up with them.”

“I’ll do that.” Manny made shooing motions with his hands. “In the meantime, get away.”

Dave grinned. “I’m not going anywhere.” He banged his pans together and rolled around on the ground like—well—like a madman. “Good morning, Lady Jessie. Your beauty lights up the day.”

I smiled, enjoying the compliment. Visitors were starting to watch us. “Good morning, Sir Madman Dave. How does the morning treat you?”

A pretty lady in a pink brocade gown, holding a matching parasol, dropped some change into Dave’s pot and blew him a kiss.

“Quite well, my lady. Please give my regards to the Bailiff.”

I liked Dave, even though he was a madman. He might graduate to becoming a knave or a varlet in the same guild, if he stayed for a while. He could even move up into the Forest Guild with Robin Hood or the Magical Creatures Guild with Merlin the Magician, if he played his cards right.

But he was probably only there for a short time, like most secondary characters. The Village was filled with college and high school drama students. Very few stayed permanently.

Manny was patiently waiting near the front door of the manor house in his pointy-toed slippers. “This may look bad for the museum.”

“The museum isn’t even open yet. Even if it was, seeing madmen and musicians on the cobblestones is part of the experience.”

“I see.” He nodded. “These circumstances are a bit
unusual
.”

“You’ll get used to it.” I patted him on the shoulder. “You might even want to
be
a madman someday.”

He shuddered and opened the door for me. “I think
not.
”

The four burly men, who’d carried the large old loom from the parking lot to the museum, were waiting. They didn’t look happy about it either.

The delivery men moved the heavy loom into place. It was a difficult process to get the loom where it needed to be. Manny wasn’t much help. He expected the legs of the loom to fit exactly where we’d made the chalk drawings for them.

If looks could have killed, Manny would certainly be dead.

I signed the document for the four men after examining the loom to make sure it was still in good repair. “Thank you, gentlemen. Please stay on at the Faire if you can, as my guests. We appreciate all your hard work.”

“Are you kidding me?” The biggest of the four, and the one who seemed to be in charge, glanced around the museum. “This place looks like the loony bin to me. I had a buddy who visited here one day with his girl. He
never
came out again.”

It sounded like the end of a bad horror story.

I inclined my head in what I hoped was a graceful and ladylike gesture. “It happens frequently that visitors decide to stay with us, sir. For many, our lives here are better than the ones in the real world. What, perchance, was your friend’s name?”

“His name was Ralph. I think he calls himself Rafe now. He’s a pirate, or something.”

“Yes. Rafe is the king of all the pirates on the Queen’s Revenge. I shall tell him that you asked about him.”

“Whatever.” He looked around again and gestured to his helpers. “Let’s get out of here.”

While Manny documented the receipt of the loom, I admired it and the rest of the tapestry exhibit we’d managed to put together so far. There was a great richness and history to what we were trying to do. It was different than the rest of the Village. People could learn here, as well as enjoy themselves.

I ran my hand along the rough wood of the loom, thinking about the hands that had worked on it. I imagined the tapestries that had been produced on it.

Beside the loom were glassmaker’s tools that had been donated by Roger Trent from the Glass Gryphon, a shop in the Village. He was also one of the Village craftspeople who would demonstrate his skills at the museum when it opened in November.

His wife, Mary Shift, was a Gullah basket weaver. She’d promised to spend a day here too. I’d learned to weave sweet grass baskets with her.

My foot scuffed something on the hardwood floor. I looked down and saw a glint of color where it didn’t belong.

It was Wanda’s missing bracelet.

Of course, there was blood on it, and I’d put my hand into it. The smell of fresh blood made me want to vomit.

It looked like the real killer was trying to frame me for Wanda’s murder.

Chapter Three

“Who else has been in the museum this morning besides you and the loom movers?” I tried not to panic as I wiped my hands on a handkerchief in my pocket.

“The museum was empty when I came here this morning,” Manny said. “The loom movers came later, and then I went to find you. Why? Is something wrong? What
is
that smell?”

Manny and I were the only ones with keys to the museum. He was new to the Village. I had no reason to suspect that he might be involved with what had happened to Wanda. The killer probably came in while he was gone and hid the bracelet because he or she knew I could be blamed for Wanda’s death.

“Nothing is wrong.” I looked at the bracelet and wished I had a plastic bag to put it in. The only thing I had was my free drink mug that all employees carried. When you presented it at any of the eateries in the village, you got a free drink.

Could I ever drink out of the mug again if I stored Wanda’s bloody bracelet in it until I could give it to Chase or Detective Almond?

I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t walk around with it in my hand either. Grimacing, I dropped the bracelet into the mug. That was that. I’d have to get a new mug.

“Blood.” Manny sniffed again, moving closer to see what I was doing. “
New blood
. What did you find?”

“Nothing. I-uh-cut myself shaving this morning.” I didn’t want to discuss this with him. I knew how the Village gossips worked. One word and everyone would know.

“Really?” His dark eyes gazed into my face as though trying to discern the truth. “It doesn’t
smell
like you, Lady Jessie.”

That was weird
.

I took a few steps back from him and put my hand across the top of the cup. “I have to go. You have to go too.”

“Why? I have a lot of work to do here today. I can’t leave.”

I nudged him out the door. “Yes, you can. Consider it your day off.” I closed and locked the museum door behind us. “Don’t set foot inside until tomorrow, or when the police tell you to.”

“The police?” He put his hand lightly on top of mine, the one that was covering the cup that held Wanda’s bracelet. “You can trust me with your secrets, Lady Jessie. What has happened?”

“I can’t talk about it yet. I’m sorry.” I jerked my hand, and the cup, away from him. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Manny. I’ll tell you later. I promise.”

He peered at me with such intensity in his eyes that I thought lasers might come out of them. It was scary. I thanked him for his help, as I always did, and ran down the stairs to the cobblestones.

I knew Detective Almond would want to look over the area where I’d found the bracelet. Clearly, the killer had been in there. Maybe he or she had left some fingerprints behind. They could probably get something from the blood on the bracelet too.

I stopped in at Merlin’s Apothecary, which was uncomfortably close to the First Aid Station where Wanda would normally be. Her cottage was only a few hundred feet from there too. Chase was probably there, talking to Detective Almond about her death.

Merlin could be a little wacky sometimes, but he was a good friend. His purple wizard’s robe had a tendency to fly open, even when there was no breeze. Most of the ladies in the Village knew to look away. He also wore a large, pointed hat that matched his robe.

His apothecary was full of stuffed birds, jars of bugs and worms. He sold colored powders and liquids, magic tricks, and wands. It was one of the most visited shops in the Village, though I couldn’t say why. Maybe it was the name.

The first thing anyone saw as they walked inside was a motley moose head Merlin called Horace. It was disgusting, but kids loved it.

“Lady Jessie.” Merlin bowed regally to me as I entered. He held his pointed hat on his scraggly gray hair. “To what do I owe the honor?”

What most people didn’t know, even those who’d lived in the Village for a while, was that Merlin was the CEO of Adventureland. I wouldn’t have known either, but Chase told me. Merlin lived here because he said it helped him keep up with his work.

 I knew better. The man loved the
weird
.

“I have a big problem I need to discuss with you.”

“That sounds serious. I could make an appointment for day after tomorrow.”

“It has to be now. Wanda is dead, and it looks like I might’ve killed her. I didn’t. But it
looks
like I could be guilty.”

His blue eyes widened comically above his gray beard that didn’t look too much better than Horace’s fur. “That is
quite
a problem. Have you told the Bailiff yet? Has anyone called the police?”

We sat down in his shop, and I spilled everything—from the blue dye prank to finding her coming out of the shower.

“Well, the prank was a long time coming after she glued your gown to the chair at the Lady of the Lake Tavern,” he mused. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to get her back—that maybe you were too caught up with the wedding plans and the museum.
That
part I understand.”

“This was more than a prank. It looked like the killer caught her right after the dye had come out of the showerhead. It was awful.”

He nodded in what I suspect should have been a wise manner. Instead his hat almost toppled from his head. He came close to falling out of his chair as he tried to catch it.

“And what can I do for you in regard to this matter?” he finally asked.

“I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Wanda’s life that might be helpful. Was she seeing anyone? Had she broken up with someone? Blades are used in crimes of passion, Merlin. Was there someone she felt passionate about?”

He stroked his beard again and gazed toward the ceiling. “It seems to me that she was seeing someone. Yes! A younger man, I believe. Shakespeare had some words to say about that. I remember hearing them argue night before last. They were divorced, you know.”

“Yes. I knew they’d been married.” Maybe Shakespeare had killed Wanda
and
set me up. The prank made me look guiltier than anyone else I could think of, including him.

“Well, then you may also know that Shakespeare was paying Wanda alimony, unheard of in this day and age, but apparently he’d strayed during their marriage and had no choice but to pay up.”

That was news to me.
No one in the Village made much money. How could Shakespeare afford to pay Wanda alimony?

Maybe he couldn’t. Her death
would
mean the end of that extra expense. It was a strong motive.

“What about the younger man?” I asked. “Do you know his name?”

“No. I might know him if I saw him. He works here—a knight, I believe.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” I got to my feet and sketched him a slight curtsy when I noticed visitors coming into the apothecary.

The visitors applauded and smiled. This was one reason why the people who lived here were ‘on’ the whole time the Main Gate was open.

“You are very welcome, lovely lady.” He bowed, keeping one hand on his hat.

I left the apothecary, headed for the castle to see if Shakespeare had run for sanctuary there.

Ginny Stewart, the owner of the Lady of the Lake Tavern, was standing beside the Hanging Tree, watching the police outside Wanda’s cottage. She was a tough, older woman with ragged white hair—the epitome of what anyone would think of as a female tavern owner from the Renaissance.

She always wore the same, slightly dirty green dress as her costume, her enormous bosom barely contained in it. “What’s going on over there?” she asked in her rasping voice.

“Wanda is dead. Murdered,” I informed her.

“Oh.” She turned away. “A lot of fuss about a trifle then.”

Ginny and I weren’t particularly friends either. I wasn’t surprised by her attitude, though it was cold. I couldn’t think who she
was
friends with in the Village either, besides the men.

One of Chase’s security guards saw me. Detective Almond had arrived and was requesting my presence. My time to find possible alternatives to me being the killer was up.

I knew there was nothing else I could do. I followed the security guard. There was an ambulance, a coroner’s car, and a police vehicle in front of Wanda’s cottage. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew what had happened.

It was always so odd to see vehicles here, especially emergency vehicles. It felt like poking a stick in the wheel of normal Village life. You could almost forget the real world was out there, until something like this happened.

Detective Don Almond was a chubby, middle-aged man who always seemed in need of a haircut, and he wore his pants too tight. His heavy chin rested above a dirty collar and a shirt front always stained with whatever his last meal had been.

When he saw me, he bowed slightly. “Look who’s here. Welcome, my lady. Have you come to answer for your crimes?”

Chapter Four

Detective Almond and I have had our moments—not many of them good. He seemed to love Chase like a son and equally disliked me.

So I knew what he saw when he appraised me in that brief moment: thirty-something, ex-associate history professor, six-foot, blue eyes, and straight brown hair.