Bewitching Boots

by Joyce

  The Main Gate opened for visitors at ten a.m. each day. I suggested that we break for coffee. I was meeting Chase and our friends, Daisy and Bart, at Sir Latte’s Beanery. I invited Bill to join us, as he had many times while we’d been working on the exhibit.

  “I can’t come today,” he said. “My brain is on fire with images of Isabelle’s beautiful feet. I’m going to get started on her dancing slippers. I want to fit them on her as soon as possible. I want to feel her feet in my hands again.”

  That was a little more information than I needed on that subject, but I didn’t say so. “That sounds great. I’ll be back later, and we’ll make sure everything is ready for opening day.”

  “Don’t worry. It will be magical. I guarantee it.”

  I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned having elf magic before. I’d known him a few weeks. We’d talked about all kinds of things. Magic seemed like something that would have come out sooner.

  “Maybe not,” Daisy said as we waited for Chase and Bart to join us for coffee. “Maybe he has to get to know you before he drops the M-bomb. Maybe he has to trust you. You know people used to do nasty things to those who professed a knowledge of magic.”

  Daisy was a sword, knife, and armor maker in the Village. Her shop, Swords and Such, was very popular with the hundred thousand or so visitors we received each year. Her adult son, Ethan, was working with her now too. Bart was her lover and now her partner in the shop. He was computer savvy and had opened an online version of her shop that outsold the bricks and mortar version ten times over.

  “That was a long time ago, but maybe that’s it.” I shrugged. “I’m glad he didn’t do the love at first sight with my feet thing that he did with Isabelle today. It was awkward watching it.”

  “I don’t know.” Daisy tossed her dyed blond curls, her lips drawn in a red bow, like a kewpie doll. She always wore a breastplate with a phoenix on it. “I like a good foot rub. Bart is fantastic at it—he’s got those huge hands. Maybe I should stop in for a new pair of boots. Your cobbler sounds interesting.”

  “Cobbler?” Bart joined us. “Cherry or apple? I like both.”

  Chase, my lovely husband, had come into the crowded pub with Bart. He kissed me quickly before he sat beside me. “Not pie. Shoemaker. Jessie brought him back with us from Pigeon Forge when we went to Dollywood. He makes great boots.” Chase held up one foot to show off his new pair of Bill’s boots.

  “He might be about to take Isabelle out of your fan club,” I told him. “They really had something going on today at the museum.”

  Chase was a little skeptical. “Not to sound harsh, but I’m surprised she was interested in him.”

  “Why?” Bart asked.

  “He’s kind of plain, in his fifties or so.” Chase thanked the server who brought his coffee. “Not exactly Isabelle’s type.”

  Daisy grinned. “Jessie says he gives magical foot rubs. Sounds good to me. Maybe Isabelle is a gal who likes to play with feet.”

  Bart put one of his massive arms around her shoulders, almost hitting a knave seated behind him. “I give magical foot rubs too. You don’t need the pie man.”

  “He didn’t give me a magical foot rub.” Chase laughed. “Did he do that for you, Jessie? It must’ve been when I was looking around his shop. I might’ve noticed you playing footsies with him.”

  “Oh you newlyweds,” Daisy protested. “What’s a foot massage between consenting adults? I really can’t wait to meet the cobbler now. Bart, don’t you need a new pair of boots too?”

  “Not if the shoemaker has to touch my feet. You know how ticklish they are.”

  We talked about the coming week. It was August, the time when dozens of college and high school students left the Village to go back to school. Many of them would return over Christmas and Spring Break, but we always needed replacements for the time between.

  Renaissance Village was a big place to fill with interesting characters. Many of the college men were knights at the Field of Honor. We couldn’t have jousts twice a day without knights.

  “I guess they’ll be in this morning.” Daisy rubbed her hands together. “I love to antagonize the newbies. It shows their inner character. Let’s face it—most visitors are more annoying than I could ever be.”

  We all pretty much agreed with that.

  The selection of several dozen new actors was done by daily auditioning on the cobblestones. The regulars, such as Daisy and Bart, me and Chase, marked scorecards that were tallied to decide who would be invited back for the next day. Some would be chosen for their original costumes, but most would be chosen for their friendliness and willingness to act as though they belonged. At the end of the week, the players that remained would be selected.

  “I’m glad all of you enjoy choosing new actors.” Chase sipped his coffee, waiting for his bagel. “I get a hundred questions every hour from the newbies about eating, drinking, where to find the privies, what to do when they get hot in their costumes. When that’s over, I get to help train a dozen new knights and one or two jousters for the Field of Honor.”

  “Poor Chase.” Daisy stuck out her lower lip. “We all feel your pain, buddy. You also get to spend time with all the lovely young ladies who need a strong arm to get them through the day.”

  Bart laughed. “If you need any help with that, give me a call.”

  Daisy punched him hard in the shoulder, but it would’ve taken a lot more for her to hurt him. Bart was a giant of a man, close to seven feet tall, with crazy black hair that always looked as though he’d just removed a helmet. He could lift me straight off the ground. I’d seen him pick up two troublemakers at the same time, one under each arm. He made Chase look fragile.

  Chase was tall and muscular—6’8”, 250 pounds of muscle—usually wrapped in tight brown leather. He wore his long brown hair in a braid and had a gold pirate ring in one ear. His soulful brown eyes showed his intelligence and patience.

  When he wasn’t working as Chief of Security for the Village in his job as Bailiff, he worked on his own as a consulting patent attorney. He was very good with horses and had started at the Village in the jousting arena. I’ve never seen a man who looked better in armor.

  And he was mine!

  “I like all the unusual characters that people try out.” I slid my arm through Chase’s and rested my hand on his so that our matching wedding bands were together. Sometimes I just liked to remind myself that we were really a couple now. We’d finally gotten married and were living our happily ever after.

  “Yeah.” Daisy grinned. “Remember that woman last August who had the really tall hair that kept falling off?”

  Bart laughed. “She was extremely funny.”

  Chase shrugged. “Really funny when I had to close the Good Luck fountain because her hair fell into it and really disgusting picking that up.”

  “You need to delegate more,” Daisy said. “Tell him, Jessie. He does too much and doesn’t make the rest of his security people do anything.”

  “I tell him that every day. Sometimes three times a day. He won’t listen.”

  Chase’s radio buzzed. It kept him in touch with the rest of the security guards as they tried to keep the Village running smoothly. “And it starts. The Main Gate is open, and already one of the new actors rode a horse through the Village Green.”

  He got up to leave. I tried to stop him. “Let someone else handle it. You have a hundred security guards. One of them can tell the person they can’t have a real horse here.”

  Chase slid his hand into my short, brown hair and kissed me. Then he grabbed his bagel. “This is my job. You know that. Love you. See you later.”

  It was only a few moments after he was gone that we heard someone running through the Village calling out unsettling news.

  “Princess Isabelle is dead! Oh tidings of great sorrow! Princess Isabelle is dead!”

  Chapter Two

  Daisy, Bart, and I only made it into the castle a few seconds before it was closed to the public.
We were following Chase. Gus, the Master-at-Arms and gatekeeper, wasn’t at his post, so security people were there to keep everyone out.

  I wondered about Gus. I’d never seen him gone from his post regardless of weather or time of day. It was odd. Did Chase know where he was?

  A sizable group of Village residents had gathered as they’d heard the news. Chase and his security guards tried to keep everyone out, but the cobblestones were crowded with new actors, thousands of visitors to the Village, and hundreds of residents who lived there. It wasn’t an easy task.

  Residents of the castle were standing in the walled garden that was favored by the royalty. All of Isabelle’s retinue were there, weeping and wailing. King Harold and Queen Olivia were also present, standing close together and whispering between each other. Rita Martinez, head of the kitchen staff, was standing near the garden wall, her expression blank. Sir Reginald was squatting close to Isabelle’s body.

  Chase had just entered the garden after helping to set up the perimeter. He silently scanned the area around Isabelle. “What happened?” he asked the people around him.

  Rita wiped her eyes. “I was walking out of the castle for a cigarette break. She was already here.”

  “Did you see anyone else out here?” he questioned.

  “No. Just poor Isabelle. It was terrible.” She hid her face in her hands.

  “Anyone else?” Chase looked around at the familiar faces.

  “She liked to dance up there,” one of Isabelle’s ladies (the one with the perfume from the museum) recounted. “Her terrace is right above us. She must have slipped and fallen.”

  “Where were all of you when this happened?” Chase knew royal personages were rarely alone.

  “We were doing her bidding.” The girl with the parasol from that morning said. “Her clothes needed washing. Her hairdresser was coming today. Her shoes needed brushing.”

  As she said shoes, I noticed Isabelle’s dainty feet. They were encased in the dancing slippers Bill was making for her.

  That meant Bill had been there. My heart started pumping harder. Where was he when Isabelle fell off the terrace?

  Where is he now?

  The sound of sirens entering the Village meant that Detective Almond and his officers had arrived. His group from the Myrtle Beach Police Department handled problems Chase and his people couldn’t take care of.

  It was a good time to look for Bill—before Chase or the police noticed that he’d been there and started asking questions we didn’t have answers for yet.

  I cautiously walked away, taking a sharp right and going into the castle. Bill could still be in Isabelle’s suite, or somewhere in the castle. It wouldn’t be a good thing if he’d been the last person to see her alive. It would only be a matter of time before someone grieving for her would remember that he’d been there to fit the slippers.

  I hoped this wasn’t a result of Isabelle reverting to her true nature and rebuffing Bill’s advances. Not that I thought Bill would actually hurt her. I hadn’t known him long, but he seemed like a wonderful, gentle soul. If there had been an accident, not really his fault, the sooner it was cleared up the better.

  There was a side door from the garden that led to a secret passage. Once in the passage, I could go anywhere inside. Because I’d worked in the castle for a few summers, I knew my way around. I ran up the stone walkway to Isabelle’s chambers. But the rooms were empty.

  I checked the heavy, iron terrace railing, peeking over it. Detective Almond was already in the garden talking with Chase and all the castle dwellers that were there.

  But no sign of Bill. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  Was it possible Isabelle had slipped and fallen even though the railing around the terrace was still intact?

  Probably not. She would have had to cartwheel across the railing.

  Someone could have picked her up and thrown her over. Someone large and strong. Not even that large and strong, really. Isabelle was tiny. She might have weighed 90 pounds, but no more.

  I thought it could have been suicide, but whatever Isabelle would have used to climb over the rail would still be there. She wasn’t tall enough to step over it, even with magic slippers.

  I kind of snooped around her luxurious quarters. There were thick, expensive rugs on the stone floor and colorful unicorn-filled tapestries on the walls. Her bed was on a raised dais with heavy, pink velvet curtains surrounding it. The bathroom was spacious and also pink with a tub that could easily accommodate at least three people.

  The other room was a big sitting area with a large screen television hanging on one wall, and a fireplace on another. Her windows were floor-length and faced the terrace on the sunny side of the castle.

  I snooped through her closet. It was stuffed full of dresses and shoes. There was a lovely purple velvet cape I wouldn’t have said no to. I realized it was a little inappropriate to ogle her clothes with her dying recently. I shut the closet door and started to leave the bedroom.

  Then I heard Detective Almond’s voice. The man only had two audio settings, loud and louder. He and Chase were walking into the suite. It was my cue to leave.

  But with the two men coming in the doorway, I had to be creative or answer uncomfortable questions. The passage that had led me here connected every room in the castle to every other room. It made it easier and more discreet when the staff needed to bring something—or someone—in without being seen.

  The passage from Isabelle’s suite was located behind a bookcase. I pulled the lever, and the bookcase swung silently open. I scooted into the passage and closed it behind me.

  The passages between castle rooms weren’t dark or dusty like the ones in scary movies. Because they were used so frequently by everyone from the king and queen down to the lowliest servant, they were cleaned with the rest of the castle each day. Electric lights in sconces were always on so that no one got lost. It was easy to find my way to the kitchen area.

  Everyone in the castle knew about the passageways. It would be possible for anyone to have killed Isabelle and escape without being seen by her retinue.

  I was only speculating and also laying groundwork in my mind in case Bill was accused of having something to do with Isabelle’s death. He was new to the Village. He’d never worked in the castle. He would have had to go in and out through the suite door. Everyone would have seen him.

  Once I reached the kitchen, I ran outside. I was surprised Rita had taken her cigarette break in the garden rather than the courtyard. The kitchen courtyard was where all the castle employees congregated on their breaks. The garden was more for the royal personages and their guests.

  What was she doing there?

  It was as much a mystery as Gus’s absence from the gate.

  I could use all of these things to help Bill—if he needed it. I hoped he wouldn’t, but weird things happened sometimes. I knew that better than most.

  But what if Bill was responsible for what happened to Isabelle?

  I had to consider that idea too. I’d been so ready to defend him from false accusations, but what if he killed Isabelle?

  No. I didn’t believe it. I was a pretty good judge of character. Bill was no killer—I’d wager my new sandals on it.

  Still a thought once considered can never be un-thought. Worry niggled at the edge of my awareness. I’d brought Bill to the Village. If he killed Isabelle, I was partially responsible.

  Police officers were standing guard at the garden, probably waiting for the medical examiner. More people were coming from the Village to see what was going on but weren’t able to get through Chase’s security.

  Going out of the area wasn’t a problem. I grabbed a basket of flowers someone had left on the ground and walked out quickly. I needed to find Bill. I hoped he wasn’t involved in this, but the sooner we started asking questions, the better.

  Maybe this all sounds a little heartless considering that Isabelle was dead. I felt bad about it – really. I wasn’t laughing about he
r death, but I wasn’t crying either. She would have felt the same about me, if our positions had been reversed.

  I was also hoping she wouldn’t come back as a ghost like Wanda.

  I started checking all the usual places Bill liked to hang out between working on the exhibit. Where would he have gone after dropping off Isabelle’s slippers? I knew he enjoyed the taverns and pubs scattered throughout the Village. It seemed doubtful that he would’ve gone back to the tiny housing space he shared with Fred. He’d complained about it enough that I knew he wasn’t happy there. Maybe he went to his stall or to the museum.

  I wasn’t surprised to see visitors leaving the Village with haste and deliberation. Several uniformed police officers, and security guards, were herding them toward the Main Gate. Detective Almond had apparently decided to close the Village early for the investigation. No doubt it would be less confusing to deal only with the residents.

  But what if one of the visitors had killed Isabelle? He must not have thought of that. He was already sure it was an inside job.

  I had to find my cobbler.

  Mary, Mary Quite Contrary was taking off her blond wig as she headed home. William Shakespeare was still packing up his writing supplies from his podium. King Arthur had Excalibur slung across his back. He pulled the sword from the stone several times each day.

  I saw my assistant, Manawydan Argall, showing his resident pass to a police officer at the gate. I was so glad to see him. Maintenance men were hanging the new banner on the museum announcing Bill’s debut tomorrow. I hoped it would still happen.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” I hugged Manny. “I missed you. Did you have a good vacation?”

  “It’s wonderful to be back.” He was dressed, as always, in Victorian garb rather than something from the Middle Ages. But with all the steampunk elements coming into the Village, it didn’t seem so out of place anymore. He was always particularly neat and clean and smelled of fresh air and flowers.