Clarissa’s guests were on her front porch, but a crowd had also gathered on the front lawn of Rook’s Nest, and they applauded in anticipation. The lawn was large and filled with beautiful landscaping. A lover’s bench was tucked among some trees, and a fountain tinkled behind some other shrubs. Tulla, Bricey, and Bart and Sunny Crenshaw, among other guests I didn’t know, were leaning on the balustrade around the porch. They held drinks and were in high good spirits.
I continued. “But there is evil afoot in the land of King John. Persecution of the poor is rampant, and Robin will defend those without protection until King Richard is placed upon the throne. I predict a bad ending for the minions of King John, especially the Sheriff of Nottingham, a blackhearted villain. The play begins!” I bowed and slipped away to find a place to hide until it was my turn to burst out of the shrubs. We were all about dramatic entrances.
The highlight of the story was the sword fight between Oscar and Coleman and they’d become pretty good at acting it out, even following the blocking I’d done for them. The finale involved Robin shooting an arrow that strikes the sheriff so that Robin can swoop in and save Maid Marian. We had a rubber-tipped arrow and a child’s toy bow.
The crowd laughed and applauded, and I had to admire the fervor that my friends put into the play. The sword fight went off without a hitch and impressed the audience. We were almost at the finish, and Coleman drew back the bow to let his arrow fly.
Friar Tuck, or Cece, as she was better known, had been off her mark the entire play. She was supposed to hide in the shrubs and come out during the sword battle to act as Robin’s second. Instead, she’d been walking back and forth in front of the porch and at the last minute had run into the thick shrubs at the side of the house. I wondered what bee had gotten up her bonnet. She was supposed to be stage left in preparation for the duet with Jaytee, but she was stage right. I’d round her up when it was time for her song.
Coleman made a big production of drawing back the little plastic bow. When he loosed the rubber-tipped arrow, it stuck Oscar in the shoulder, and he fell back, pretending to be gravely wounded.
The crowd was whooping and clapping as Robin raced across the lawn and swept Marian into his arms. “My maiden is safe!” he cried out.
From somewhere in the landscaped yard, there was the twang of a powerful bowstring, and a real arrow shot across the area and struck the front porch post only inches from Clarissa’s head. The arrowhead dug deep into the wood.
Clarissa screamed, which made Tulla and Bricey scream, too. Pandemonium broke out on the porch as everyone pushed and shoved to try to get in the front door.
Another twang cut through the noise and a second arrow whistled toward the front porch. This one grazed Clarissa’s head, slamming into the front wall of the house.
“I’ve been hit!” Clarissa screamed. She placed a hand on the side of her head, and blood seeped through her fingers. It looked like the arrow had taken part of Clarissa’s ear with it.
The porch audience screamed louder. Individuals dropped to the floor as the spectators on the lawn, realizing this was not part of the play, scattered and ran for their lives. Coleman discarded his bow and Maid Marian and ran toward the area the arrow had come from. I grabbed Tinkie and Millie and nudged my friends to the ground. “Stay down,” I said. Cece was nowhere to be seen.
Jaytee, Oscar, and Harold were hot on Coleman’s heels. They paid no heed to my admonitions to be safe.
“Someone is trying to kill you, Clarissa,” Tulla said. She grabbed Bricey and made for the door, pushing Clarissa and the Crenshaws out of the way. Clarissa grabbed Tulla’s ankle and brought her down with a whump.
“Damn you,” Tulla said.
Clarissa punched her and crawled on top of her, using Tulla as a doormat as she made for the door.
“Halt!” Friar Tuck came out of the shrubs with a crossbow and hunting arrows. “In the name of justice, take this!” And he shot another arrow right at Clarissa. Luck was with her and the arrow narrowly missed.
“Cece!” I ran toward my friend, who’d obviously lost her mind, intending to knock her down before she got another shot off. Where had Cece even gotten a real crossbow?
To my astonishment, another Friar Tuck—a second plump man of the cloth—came stumbling out of the bushes. He tumbled forward, tripped over his robe, and rolled into the Tuck with the bow. They both went down in a heap. In the dark they rolled around, one on top of the other, slugging away. They would flip, and the Tuck who’d been on the bottom would be on top, punching the one on the ground. They were grunting and cursing.
“What the hell?” Tinkie asked. “This has gone way too far now.”
“Indeed it has.” I rushed forward and hurled myself at the Tuck on top. I had enough speed to knock him off-balance. He hit the ground with an ooffph and rolled over me, crushing the wind from my lungs. I felt like I’d been run over by a linebacker.
Before I could do anything except heave for air, Tuck got up and ran in the opposite direction from the one Coleman had taken. The remaining Tuck got off the ground and waddled over to me, offering a hand. Her fat pads had shifted so that she looked like Quasimodo, and with her makeup all smeared and blurred, she could have been anyone. I was more than a little suspicious.
“Sarah Booth. Snap out of it. It’s me, Cece.” She jammed the hand almost in my face. “Take it. I’ll pull you up.”
I did as she suggested. The yard was finally quiet. The spectators had scattered to the winds. Tinkie ran up to join us. “What the hell happened?”
“There was a second Friar Tuck.” It was like a bad hallucination. Where had the other Tuck come from? And where had he gone?
“I saw that,” Tinkie said. “Who was it?”
I looked at Cece, who shrugged. “Sorry, he didn’t leave a calling card,” she said.
“We need to be on his tail. Was he the person who shot Clarissa with an arrow? He could have killed her.”
“I think he meant to,” Cece said. She was busy untying her friar’s robes. In a moment she had shucked out of the costume and was unstrapping the fat pads. Beneath it all she wore jeans and a sweatshirt.
Coleman and the men returned. “We lost him,” Coleman said. “He took off down the street and disappeared.”
“We need to see how badly Clarissa is hurt.” It had looked like a mere brush with death, but we needed to be sure.
“That arrow almost took her ear off,” Harold said, and he wasn’t being clever. He was worried. “Whatever is going on in this town, it’s dangerously out of hand.”
“Any idea—other than Cece—who was in the friar’s costume?” Coleman asked.
We all shook our heads. “I don’t think it was a man. Beneath the fat pads, the body seemed lean but compact. I had some close personal contact when he, or she, rolled over me.”
“Tulla, Bricey, and Clarissa were all on the porch. Sunny and Bart Crenshaw were there, too,” Tinkie pointed out. “That means the archer wasn’t part of Clarissa’s inner circle of wild things.”
“Jerry Goode is unaccounted for, but he’s too big to be the second Friar Tuck,” I said. Tinkie and I looked at each other. “Who else could it be?”
“We have to consider that there are multiple bad actors here,” Tinkie said. “Each incident may have a unique villain.”
She had a point, and she was aggravated. She started to stomp toward the porch.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To get our donation. We aren’t leaving without it. We were promised a donation for the animal shelter and I can’t help it that Clarissa’s ear got skinned a little. We need that money.”
I knew there was no dissuading her, and I watched her knock boldly on the front door. In a few minutes she returned with a check. “Clarissa is fine. She didn’t want to cough up the money, but I told her I’d take out an ad in the newspaper to say she’d reneged on her donation.”
“Was she hurt?” I asked.
“The arrow nick
ed her earlobe, but no serious damage. It isn’t even bleeding. Much.” She waved the check. “And we have a nice contribution to the animal shelter.” She tucked it in her pocket. “Now we’re going to resolve this so we can go home day after tomorrow without having to think about Clarissa Olson. I have a plan.”
26
Coleman joined us wearing latex gloves and holding what looked like a very expensive crossbow. “I found it in the ditch. Whoever shot this could have killed Clarissa,” he said. “This isn’t just practical jokes, this is attempted murder. I’ll call the police.”
“I don’t trust Jerry Goode,” I told Coleman.
“We have to report this.”
“Shouldn’t Clarissa report it? It was her ear that almost got snicked off by an arrow.”
“She should, but we’re witnesses. I have to uphold the law,” Coleman said. “Even when you don’t like it.” He rumpled the frizzy white hair that was my wig. “I’ll tell you what. You guys go on back to the B and B and I’ll wait here for the law to come.”
It was an offer I wasn’t about to turn down. After my exchange with Clarissa, I wasn’t eager to end up inside her house, listening to her berate everyone. We helped Cece pick up the parts of her costume she’d scattered about the yard. I wanted to pull the arrows out of the front porch post and the wall, but I knew Coleman would never hear of it. He would leave that for the Columbus police.
I sidled up to Cece. “Do you know who your doppelgänger was?”
She hesitated. “Not really.”
“A guess?”
She shook her head. “Let me think about all of this.”
Before I could offer to call a ride, Rex appeared with the limo to get us all back to the inn. Either he was psychic or Tinkie had already called him. Tinkie and I piled up in the far back seat. She sighed. I could almost guess what she was thinking.
“Whoever shot at Clarissa had to know we were going to do the Robin Hood story,” Tinkie said. “They came dressed exactly like Friar Tuck. They had the crossbow. They knew where we were and the time we’d be there.”
“You’re right, Tinkie.” I’d already come to that conclusion. There was only one person who knew all of that. And she had a very personal reason to hate Clarissa Olson. “Darla?”
She nodded. “Yes. I don’t know that she’s involved in the earlier shenanigans, but this one, I’m willing to bet she’s in it up to her ears.”
“I know.”
“Her best friend is dead, and Clarissa was awful to Kathleen. I think this has driven Darla to madness. She’s been too calm. Too accepting of Kathleen’s death.”
“I know.” Everything Tinkie said made perfect sense, even though it hurt me to admit it. “I think that’s why Coleman didn’t want to tell Darla he was attacked outside the Bissonnette House. He was already suspicious. The evening Coleman was attacked, when I was outside, I felt like someone was watching me. Do you think Darla has someone helping her do these things?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe Darla is at home and has plenty of alibis. She really seemed to have a headache. Wouldn’t that be great?” Tinkie brightened at the possibility.
“It would.” I smiled, too, but it was a false smile that only hid my deep concern.
We arrived at the B and B just as Darla pulled up in her car. She greeted us with a warm smile. “How about a nightcap? How did the holiday mumming go?”
She was a better actress than I’d ever assumed. “Fine. Where have you been?”
“I ran to get some cranberry juice and champagne.” She clicked her key fob and the trunk of her Lexus opened. Sure enough, grocery bags cluttered the back of the car. It looked like a member of the Donner Party had finally made it to a grocery store. There were at least thirty bags of groceries. We each grabbed a couple as we headed in through the back door. When we finished unloading the trunk, the counters were completely covered by sacks of food. It had to have taken Darla at least two hours to buy all of those groceries. Tinkie and I nodded at each other. Perhaps Darla did have an alibi.
“Where’s Coleman?” Darla asked once we had everything from the car in the kitchen.
“He stayed behind to talk to Clarissa.”
Darla’s eyebrows arched. “You left your man alone with that she-devil?”
Even though I trusted Coleman with my life, my gut took a little twist at her words. Clarissa knew no boundaries. She’d move on anyone’s territory no matter how many no-trespassing signs were posted. “Coleman can handle her. Besides, someone almost killed her tonight.”
“What?” Darla looked genuinely surprised. “Who?”
“Someone in a Friar Tuck outfit,” Harold threw in.
“I didn’t realize any of the other mummers were dressing as Robin Hood and the Sherwood Forest crew,” Darla said. “I picked that because I thought it was original.”
“Who else would know that was the theme you’d chosen?” Tinkie asked the question gently, but there was still bite in it.
“Anyone in town,” Darla said. “The costume shop is a din of gossip. Those theater types love to shuffle scandal around town. And of course I knew. And Kathleen. But anyone who wanted to know could have found out just by asking.”
“Between eight and ten o’clock, you were grocery shopping?” I asked.
She nodded. “Call Kroger. They know me in the store.” Her voice registered hurt. “A dozen employees saw me shopping, and then I stopped at the pet food store to pick up some more food for Gumbo.”
The cat appeared as if she’d been summoned—very un-catlike behavior.
“Ask the cat,” Darla said, moving the conversation to a more lighthearted plane. “If Gumbo could talk, she’d tell you.”
Even without the cat, Darla had a solid alibi. And I was relieved, but I had other questions. “Darla, what’s really going on in this town?”
“Clarissa and that crew have hurt a lot of people. Folks who were just trying to lead their lives, provide for their families. When you deliberately interject yourself in a relationship and blow it up, there can be all kinds of fallout.” She sighed. “I agree with Clarissa on the point that most humans can’t deny their animal nature. Put sex in front of them and they are going to go for it. But decent people try hard to follow a code of conduct.”
“Did they ever take a romantic interest away from you?” Tinkie asked her.
She stopped with a can of tomatoes in her hand. The cabinet door was open and the shelves were already packed with food. “No. But it could have been me easily enough. Clarissa, Tulla, Bricey—they’ve run roughshod over polite society. Someone has just had enough.”
Darla tried to close the cabinet door, but it was jammed too full. For someone who had canceled all of her future guests, she’d really forked out some bucks for food. “Who is going to eat all of this?” I asked.
“I’m going to prepare some food for the Angel’s Wings Shelter for the Homeless. Christmas will be here, and without Kath—” Her voice broke and she turned away.
I nodded, feeling only slightly like a heel for asking the question.
“Darla, you’re welcome to come to Zinnia,” Millie said. “You can stay with me. I hate to think of you here alone.”
“That’s very kind.” Darla dashed her tears away with the back of her hand and stood taller. “I’ll be fine. This is the hard part of really having a friend of the heart. To care for someone so much leaves you wide open for terrible heartache.” She inhaled and forced a smile. “Enough doom and gloom. Tell me more about what happened. I should have gone with y’all instead of letting my depression get the better of me and going to the grocery store. I would have given a lot to see Clarissa’s face when that arrow almost got her.”
“She was frazzled,” Harold said. “As were all of her guests.”
“How close did the arrow come?” Darla asked.
“The second one nicked her ear,” Jaytee said. He’d taken a seat at the breakfast nook and was busy unsacking the groceries and organizin
g them. When Darla opened another set of cabinets, I saw that she, too, was obsessive about organization. The canned goods were put away in alphabetical order, by vegetable and can size. She even took the time to move the older cans to the front as she put the new ones in back. I, on the other hand, just jammed things onto shelves, which sometimes resulted in cans of tomatoes on the verge of explosion. The way I looked at it, it just kept life interesting.
Darla opened a bag of cat food and poured some kibble into a bowl for Gumbo. The little kitty daintily crunched a nugget or two, and then turned to the kitchen window that looked out on the pool and patio area. The kitty jumped up above the sink and batted at the window, obviously asking to go out.
“Did Kathleen let her kitty go outside?” I asked.
Darla shook her head. “No, she has to be inside. I promised Kathleen that if anything ever happened, I’d keep Gumbo safe.” Tears brimmed, but she blinked them away. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her cat.”
“I understand,” Tinkie said gently. She rubbed Darla’s back lightly. “Gumbo will adjust to being indoors here. This is a wonderful home for her.”
“I’m going to check the trunk to be sure we got everything,” Jaytee said.
“Thanks.” Darla gave him a wan smile.
The minute Jaytee opened the back door, Gumbo leaped from the window, hitting the floor halfway across the kitchen. She was out the door before Jaytee even knew to be on guard.
“Gumbo!” We all cried the cat’s name as Darla and I darted after her. I saw the tip of her tail disappearing around a neatly trimmed bottlebrush plant. My legs were longer than Darla’s, and I scurried after Gumbo, with Darla following behind me.
“Kitty, kitty, kitty!” I called. “Kitty, kitty.”
Darla, too, called for the feline, but Gumbo paid no attention to either of us. She streaked across the patio and through the dense hedge. She was gone before I had half a chance to convince her to come to me.
A Garland of Bones Page 19
