Treacherous Toys (28 page)

Fog was forming over damp grass where the snow had melted. I used my cell phone to take a few pictures that I could keep forever. Who knew what was going to happen after this? The thought was depressing.

I decided to walk over to the manor house to see how
Bart’s training was going. Most of the Village residents seemed to be in for the night. The cobblestones were deserted, and no one was out practicing their parts for the next day, as usually happened when the Village closed. It seemed the only thing going on was the decision making at the castle.

I thought I saw someone moving between the manor houses. The narrow walkways between the buildings were rarely used by visitors, but they were a favored shortcut among the residents. Staying away from the cobblestones was often the fastest way to travel. I thought it could be Chase, on his way to check out some other emergency, so I lifted my skirts and ran across the wet ground.

But when I reached the first walkway, I didn’t see anyone. I looked through all the narrow paths, but there was no one on either end. Whoever had been there had disappeared quickly.

About a hundred feet away, I caught sight of a woman dressed all in black. Her face was covered by a black veil, and she was wearing black gloves.

My heart started racing. I couldn’t get my feet to move. I pulled out my cell phone to call for help—it was after hours. Besides, this could be Chris’s killer. She was exactly as Nick had described her.

Of course, Chase’s phone went to voice mail. He hardly ever used it when he was working because he had the two-way radio. Of all the times not to be able to communicate with him. The police were too far away to bother with 911. I was going to have to follow her and maybe I’d get a clue as to who she was.

I wished I could confront her, but common sense reminded me that, as much as I wanted to get it over with, confronting her could be dangerous. I had no weapon. If
she’d managed to pick up another gun, I’d be sorry. She might not kill me, but, like any other trapped animal, she’d be on the defensive, and I couldn’t predict how aggressively she’d react.

I contented myself with observing her. We were only a short distance apart—me standing around the corner at Polo’s Pasta. I tried to come up with other details about her that might lead to her arrest, such as her exact height and weight. Nick’s description of the black widow had been good. Her waist was wider than mine, and she was shorter. I guessed five foot six, maybe one hundred sixty pounds.

The gown she wore wasn’t a Renaissance style either. The skirt had a hoop or some other mechanism making it stand out. It moved back and forth like a bell as she walked. There was more than starch in that material. The design was from the 1800s, instead of the 1500s, maybe a leftover antebellum costume.

The woman was definitely not pregnant. Even though she was heavier set than me, she had no baby bump in front. She wasn’t Livy. For all of the queen’s faults, I was glad about that.

It was frustrating just following and watching her. It would take only a second to rip away the heavy veil and expose the killer. But thoughts of the consequences of that action were enough to keep me hiding in the shadows. I must be getting old. Usually I was good at confrontation.

So I continued to follow her, staying close behind but hiding by shops and game booths. The daylight was rapidly fading under storm-darkening skies. The black widow occasionally paused to look around her, then she’d hurry on down the cobblestones.

What was she looking for? I couldn’t understand what she was up to. She obviously wasn’t worried about being
seen. It had been a few days since Chris’s death. Christine had been arrested. I could see where she might feel she’d gotten away clean.

There was no way for her to know that Nick had seen her and given us her description. She probably felt safe, even invisible, wandering through the Village. Even though her costume wasn’t correct, there were thousands every week that didn’t fit in. No one would question her.

A few residents came out of Baron’s Beer and Brats, sounding like they’d had too much to drink. They were arguing about something that I couldn’t quite pick up from my post a few yards away.

The woman in black stood beside the Swan Swing and didn’t move until they’d passed.
She’s not as confident as I thought.
She didn’t want to push her luck by interacting with residents who might wonder why they didn’t know her.

I mentally added that information to my growing list about her. She obviously didn’t know the Village well or she would’ve realized that residents weren’t that careful about the people around them. They were used to seeing someone new almost every day as employees came and went.

She started walking again, this time in a straight line toward the castle. I followed until my cell phone went off near the privies by Polo’s Pasta. I ducked behind one of the portable toilets, hoping she hadn’t seen me.

It was Chase, returning my call. “Sorry I couldn’t get back with you right away,” he said. “I was helping to get a mess cleaned up at the Stage Caravan. I can’t believe anyone thought it would be a good idea to bring a bubble-blowing machine onstage with them. The dancers were slipping and falling all over. It would’ve been funny except two of the belly dancers sprained their ankles.”

“I found her,” I interrupted his story. “I found the woman in black that Nick described. She was walking around out here in the Village. But she doesn’t know we’re looking for her.”

“What are you talking about? Where are you?”

I explained about seeing Chris’s killer. “I’m following her, trying to figure out where she’s staying or hiding out so we can catch her.”

“Don’t move. Where are you now?”

“I’m near Polo’s, but I think she’s headed toward the castle. The good news is that she’s definitely not Livy. I thought no one could miss that belly. But I can’t just stand here, Chase. If I lose her, no telling when we’ll see her again.”

“I understand that, Jessie. But I’d rather lose her than lose you. She’s already killed once, if it’s the same person. We have to assume she’ll kill again.”

“I know. I won’t get too close. And I won’t rush in when she stops somewhere. I have some common sense. Give me a little credit.”

“All right. Stay with her until I catch up with you. But please be careful.”

I closed my phone and peeked around the corner of the privy. There was no sign of the black widow. My heart fell flat. I’d lost her.

Since it didn’t matter, I waited for Chase in the overhang shelter of the Merry Mynstrel’s Stage. I kept watch for the figure in black, but she was nowhere to be seen. I even kept an eye out for any woman her size coming out of one of the nearby attractions. She could’ve gone in the first aid station or the Lady of the Lake Tavern and changed clothes. But no one, male or female, dressed in black or any other type of costume came out in the rain.

A few minutes later, Chase arrived. He sat beside me on
the stage floor, and we commiserated over losing the suspect.

“We don’t even know for sure it was the same person,” he reminded me. “Sometimes people dress in black. It’s unusual around here, but not unheard of.”

I disagreed. “With a thick black veil and black gloves? Come on, Chase. It was her and I screwed up. I should’ve kept my eye on her while I was talking to you. Or not answered the phone. Or something. I don’t know.”

He put his arm around my shoulder. He smelled like bubbles, blueberry at that. “Let’s go get some supper and go home. We’ll start again tomorrow. If Chris’s killer is still hanging out here at the Village, she’s got something else in mind. She’ll show herself again and we’ll catch her. That’s the way it works.”

I smiled at him. I couldn’t help it. “You’ve been reading police books again, haven’t you?”

“You got it. Also, criminal psychology. The criminal nearly always follows a pattern to achieve her goals.”

As if his words were a warning, we heard a scream, and a very young voice shouted, “Help! Someone please come and help my mother!”

“That’s Merry Beth.” I jumped to my feet. “It sounds like she’s at Squire’s Lane.”

“Great,” Chase muttered as we both started running in that direction. “I didn’t mean that to be a prediction. Wait for me before you do anything.”

We ran through the rain across the wet grass and slippery cobblestones. We weren’t the only ones to hear Merry Beth’s cry for help. Before we could reach her, Mrs. Potts was there along with Brother Carl from the Monastery Bakery and Roger Trent, who just happened to be walking home from Peter’s Pub.

They were trying to understand what Merry Beth was saying. Whatever had happened had stripped away her veneer of adulthood. She was crying too hard to be understood.

“Let’s all get inside,” Chase said as we approached the crowd on the steps to the manor house.

“Mom’s inside here,” Jolly yelled out the open door. “We can’t wake her up, Chase. Something’s wrong with her.”

“I can’t believe something else is happening,” Roger taunted Chase as he passed him on the stairs. “When I was bailiff, things like murders didn’t happen under my watch. The whole Village is going to hell in a handbasket, if you ask me!”

Chase ignored him, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the doorway. Everyone trooped in after him, curious to see what was going on. Hopefully with some intention of helping out, too.

Christine was lying on the sofa, not moving. Bart and the children were standing around her, shaking her and trying to wake her up.

“I took the kids out for ice cream after we were done practicing,” Bart told Chase as the kids moved out of the way. “Christine said she wanted some time alone. I should’ve made her come for ice cream, too.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked. Christine’s face was very pale. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, and her lips were white. “Did she have a heart attack, too?”

“I can’t tell,” Chase said, examining her. “Her pulse is weak and shallow. Pupils dilated.” He called 911 on his radio and told the dispatcher who he was. “We need emergency medical assistance here. We’re in the brick houses right after the Main Gate. It’s the only house with the lights on.”

Bart sniffed. “There’s the faintest smell of almonds. Can anyone else smell that?”

“Is she going to be okay?” Jolly wrung his hands anxiously, like a scared little boy.

“She’ll be fine,” Roger told him.

Chase grimaced and muttered, “Roger! You can be the one to tell him if she’s
not
going to be fine.”

Something needed to be done. Chase and Roger were hovering near Christine—Chase in case she went into cardiac arrest, and Roger, just because. The children stood off to one side, staring at their mother as though they could wake her up with their fears.

The doorway was blocked with Village folk who were well meaning but would slow down the paramedics when they arrived.

“Okay, we need to get everyone off the stairs and out of the way before the paramedics get here to help Christine,” I said in my stern professor’s voice.

Bart took the hint and began to get everyone moving. I let him have that project and got the children together. They didn’t need to see this happening to their mother. Who knew what might have to be done to her when the emergency workers arrived?

“We want to stay,” insisted Jolly and Merry Beth, but all eight of the children finally came with me to the kitchen. Faith, Joy, Star, and Holly were sniffling and hugging each other. The older children kept to themselves.

“We can see fine from here,” I said, showing them that we could look through the kitchen door and know what was going on. “They need the space to help your mother. We don’t want to make things worse.”

They agreed but weren’t happy about it. I didn’t blame them for being scared and worried. I was, too.

Star asked me if she could have a drink of soda from the refrigerator. I was only too glad to turn their attention to something else—drinks would do.

I went to get the soda while I sent Jolly to get glasses. On the front of the white refrigerator was a piece of paper with a threatening message scribbled in red crayon.

You die tonight
.

I
knew Detective Almond wouldn’t be happy about it, but I took the paper down so the children wouldn’t see it and have nightmares for the rest of their lives. I was already approaching that point of no return. How bad was it for them?

I hid the paper under a book on the cabinet and continued to pour soda for everyone. It was all I could do to pretend the paper wasn’t there. I wanted to rush all of them out of the house.

By the time each child had a sip of their soda and was thinking about food, the paramedics had arrived. They seemed to diagnose the problem very quickly—probably poison or a drug she’d ingested. They started the IV drip and moved her onto the gurney to take her to the hospital. A doctor would be waiting for them.

Chase immediately took a look around the room. He put some crumbs from the table into a plastic bag and gave
them to the paramedics. He also put plastic wrap on a glass that was on the table.

Roger, not to be outdone, also picked up some candy he’d found in a pretty Christmas bowl and gave it to them. Then he ate a couple of pieces of what was left. I shook my head.