Treacherous Toys (21 page)

I
looked at Jolly—covered in blood that I sincerely hoped was his. “Thanks, Chase. Jolly is here now. Keep me posted.”

“Okay. I’ll get back when I can. Are you all right there by yourself?”

“Fine. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”

My brain was frantically trying to process everything as I slowly closed my cell phone. I wasn’t sure what to do or say. Maybe all of this was coincidence—I prayed it was just coincidence.

But what if it wasn’t? How would we know unless Jolly confessed?

“What happened to you?” I couldn’t hold back. I knew I should probably wait for his mother, but I had to know.

“I got hurt a little. You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“A little? You’re covered in blood. Where did you get hurt?”

“I don’t know. Out in the Village. You’re not the police or my mother. You don’t get to ask me personal questions.”

I could remember myself being this way when I was his age. I gave my grandmother so much grief. I wished I could take it all back.

“You’re right,” I finally said. “I’m not your mother. She loves you, and you’re making her life miserable. I’m glad you’re not my responsibility. But someday, you’re going to look back on this and want to kick yourself for being such a jerk.”

“So can I get cleaned up or what?” Jolly asked again.

“Of course. Sure. Go right ahead.” I was still steaming and scared at the same time. I didn’t want to think how terrible it would be for Christine if Jolly was also in serious trouble.

“What’s going on with Chase?”

“He’s looking into some things. He’ll be back later.”

He nodded and passed by me going toward the bathroom. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“I’m sure we can find something. Get washed up and we’ll look.”

I wished there was someone to call in times like this. I didn’t want to accuse Jolly of anything. On the other hand, if he knew something that could help Christine, he should come forward.

I waited in the kitchen with a jar of peanut butter, a jar of grape jelly, and an almost empty gallon of milk. If we were going to continue to take care of Christine’s children, Chase and I would have to go shopping. How much food could eight children consume in a day?

Jolly joined me, showered and changed. “Any word about my mom?”

“No. I’m sorry. There’s nothing yet.”

He sat down at the wood table and made two sandwiches, both with holes in them from pulling too hard on the bread. I kept reaching out to help him, then pulling back. He wasn’t a baby.

He didn’t seem to mind about the holes, bolting the sandwiches down, then swallowing them with the last of the milk.

“You don’t have to stand here and watch me,” he said. “I’m old enough to take care of myself and everyone else. You don’t have to put yourself out for us. We’ve lived without real parents for a long time.”

It sounded like he might want someone to talk to—despite his bitter words. The fact that he’d said anything besides the traditional teenage pity-party refrain was promising.

“I think your parents love you. Maybe they haven’t done everything you thought they should. But they seem to care about you. All of you look healthy, you have clothes to wear. They do what they can.”

I wasn’t prepared for his angry outburst—or the empty milk jug being tossed across the room.

“Oh, sure. They
really
care about us. Especially when the new Santa gig wants children dressed as elves. They’ve dragged us around, paraded us as part of the act all of our lives.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “They named us after Christmas things. I’ve never even been in a real school. That’s love.”

“I’m sorry.” I could see he had some legitimate grievances even though there were probably many children who
would have enjoyed living their lives. That seemed to be the way it always was when people were growing up. Everyone wanted something different than what they had.

“Me, too. I’m tired of it. I want a real home, not one we have to leave every other week. I want to go to college and be a veterinarian. And when I’m an adult, I’m never celebrating Christmas.”

I almost laughed at that. It was said in such a childlike manner. But I knew laughing at his heartfelt confession would only make things worse.

“My parents died when my brother and I were just kids,” I told him. “My grandmother raised us. Before that, we had to go through my parent’s divorce. I don’t know which part was worse. My grandmother loved us, but she was really old. She hadn’t expected to have to take on two kids. She made that clear to us.”

“That’s bad, too,” he agreed. “Is she still alive?”

“No. She died years ago. At least my brother and I were out on our own when that happened. What will you do now that your dad is gone?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I guess it all depends what happens to Mom. Do you think they’ll put her in prison?”

“I hope not. I don’t think she killed your dad. Do you?” I kind of held my breath in case Christine’s troubled son was against her, too.

“No! Mom would never hurt anyone. Not that Dad didn’t deserve to have his butt kicked.” Jolly got up and put the milk jug in the trash. “I knew about him messing around. We all did. He was a good guy except for that. Even so, I don’t think Mom would hurt him. And I know she didn’t have a gun. Can you imagine Mom shooting a gun at someone?”

Obviously
he
couldn’t. That’s what mattered, and it was a good thing. I thought Christine seemed like the kind of person who could do whatever she felt needed to be done.

“I think it was the guy who took Dad’s place,” Jolly said. “He threatened Dad once. It was a long time ago, but still.”

Since we seemed to have established a good rapport, I took the next step. “Were you so angry at your mom that you dressed up like a knight and came after her? I saw you at the field, you know.”

“Not me. If anything, I’d be angry at Dad. He brought this on himself. All he had to do was look the other way when he found out that guy was stealing. Since when did he care so much about right and wrong? Maybe he should’ve thought more about the consequences, something he never did. I don’t blame Mom for any of it. She just loved him and was ready to do whatever he wanted, you know?”

Was he telling the truth? I wasn’t sure. He looked and sounded sincere. There was one more thing—probably the most important.

“I guess we should get some sleep,” I said. “Are you okay? I mean, that looked like a lot of blood when you came in.”

“It isn’t too bad.” He got up and showed me his lacerated hands and cut on his forehead. “I got a cut on my knee, too. It’s okay. Just messy, I guess.”

Jolly seemed much calmer when he told me good night. I sat on the uncomfortable sofa after he’d gone to bed and looked around the pretty but impersonal room. The orange light from the electric fireplace made it seem a little homier, but it still felt like a hotel. I could see why Jolly would promise himself a real home in the future.

Maybe the rogue knight, Harry’s injuries, and Chris’s death had nothing to do with each other. Maybe Jolly was just a scared, unhappy teenager who’d lost his father. All of
it could make sense that way, too. It would certainly be better for this family if that were the case.

Chase got back a little before two
A.M
. He looked exhausted as he closed and locked the front door.

“How’s Harry?” I asked.

“He had to do Livy’s run to the hospital instead of her,” he said. “But he’s doing okay. The knife didn’t hit anything vital. It wasn’t even that deep. He’ll probably be home tomorrow. Unless Livy decides to add to the chaos by having her baby in the next few hours.”

“Is she at the hospital with him?”

“No. She fainted when she saw him being taken out. Wanda said she’d be better staying at the castle. She can always go to the hospital tomorrow if he’s going to stay longer than that. Sir Reginald went with Harry, along with a full retinue of courtiers. They should keep the hospital staff working while they’re there.”

Chase sat on the sofa beside me. “Lots of teenage angst when Jolly came back?”

I told him about my talk with the boy—and the blood on him and his clothes. “I don’t think he was involved in what happened to Harry, despite the way it might look.”

“But you thought so to begin with?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. He was gone. He came back covered in blood. Harry was stabbed. Esmeralda said people thought they saw a young boy at the castle when Harry fell down the stairs. I guess I have a suspicious nature. I felt bad about it, though.”

“I suppose it might make sense if Jolly knows about Christine and Harry. He could have worked himself up to do something he might not have done otherwise. Not that Harry didn’t deserve it. But that would be a serious charge against Jolly, if that were the case.”

“We don’t know that it is. And I’m too tired to think about it anymore tonight. Let’s go to bed, huh?”

He stood up and helped me to my feet. “Sounds good to me. I’ll be glad to see the back end of this day.”

T
he Christmas family’s morning routine was similar to their evening routine. Everyone got up, showered, dressed, ate Pop Tarts, and drank a gallon of juice. There were long lines at the bathrooms, but eventually everyone was ready to go.

Chase had a plan to keep all the kids busy for the day while we tried to find out what would happen with regard to their custody. We adapted a few costumes destined for the scrap heap into clothes they could wear working at various places around the Village.

It was doubtful Christine would make bail, but even if she did, her hearing wasn’t until late in the afternoon. If she didn’t come home and there wasn’t a willing next of kin to take the kids, they would be split up and sent to foster care. There wouldn’t be anything else we could do about it.

At least working with the animals in the petting zoo, helping out with the carriage rides, and doing the other jobs Chase had found for them, they would all be too busy to worry about it. Mother Goose and Bo Peep had graciously agreed to keep an eye on them when we couldn’t.

Except for Jolly. Chase and I had discussed what to do with him. Chase didn’t want to let him loose in the Village. He was worried about what he might do next, including running away. So Jolly was spending the day working with Chase.

I knew I had done what I could to help. I wished I could do more, but Detective Almond was willing to stretch protocol
only so far. I hoped Christine came home before day’s end, but I knew the chances were small that would happen.

I gave each of the kids five dollars for drinks and snacks. The adults who’d agreed to let the kids work with them would give them lunch. It seemed we were set up for the day.

At least everyone else was set up. I wished someone had set something up for me. I had a long day with nothing much to do looming in front of me.

I picked up the mess left behind by the rapidly departing family, cleaned the kitchen, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. I didn’t know what to do after that.

I didn’t technically have a job anymore. I sure didn’t want to work with Edgar. I couldn’t make toys without Christine. I was at a loss.

To make matters worse, my investigation seemed to be at a dead end. I knew Detective Almond wouldn’t be interested in pursuing any other suspect—even if I had one—since he had Christine in custody.

I had to find a way to earn my keep. I might be able to float for a day or two, but it was a long way until Christmas. I had to find some job, even if it was menial. I’d waited tables and mucked out stalls before.

Too bad everyone had taken on extra help for the season. It seemed that every job was already filled in anticipation of the holiday crowd.

Master Archer Simmons, my mentor during one of my first apprenticeships and a good friend, told me to try the castle. He had three apprentices and two assistants. There wasn’t enough room for anyone else at the Feathered Shaft.

The castle.

I sighed, staring up at it just as I had the first time I’d seen it. It was where I’d worked my first job at the Faire,
when I’d come here that fateful summer. I would never forget that time. I’d met Chase right after I’d been hired.

The structure itself looks like it’s three stories, but the top story is a façade with turrets and towers. Most of the main living space is on the ground floor, along with the kitchen. The laundry and storage areas are in the basement. The second floor has suites for VIPs, but it’s rarely used.

When the castle was built, someone had planned big. The structure was erected around the old traffic control tower for the Air Force base, most of it with concrete. Stone work was added later, creating the illusion of a real castle—although one with every modern convenience.

The Great Hall is attached to the side of the castle, and holds the large arena, the seating area for visitors, and a short passageway to the castle kitchen. It is an impressive structure, and at least fifty people work here at any given time. Employees range from maids and wenches to royal attendants and even a few footmen. Most of them don’t live in the castle. They spend their nights in Village housing. Only a handful of people actually live in the castle full-time.

I stood there thinking about my time spent here during that first summer. I had peeled potatoes until my fingers ached, made beds, scrubbed floors, and taken late-night snacks to royalty and their guests.

Looking back on it was almost as terrible as living through it. At times, I couldn’t believe I’d been willing to do some of those jobs. But there had been a spark that had brought me back the following summer and the one after that as things got better. It was that same spark that had made me walk toward the castle entrance from the Feathered Shaft.

Chase would find me something to do, I reminded myself as I came closer to the entrance. He didn’t have three or four helpers working with him for the season. I didn’t have to take a job here as a servant or some other less than desirable helper again.

Yet as I continued to stand at the entrance, trying to decide what to do, it came to me. If I was working at the castle, I could keep an eye on all the goings-on within its walls. I could also watch Edgar and try to figure out what he was up to.