Bewitching Boots

by Joyce

  If we couldn’t find Isabelle’s ghost out here—I might have to reconsider.

  I knew Isabelle wouldn’t want me around. We had bad blood between us, even more than me and Wanda. Chase wouldn’t be able to see or hear her since he couldn’t see or hear Wanda. Madame Lucinda might be a good intermediary.

  “Why don’t you like her?” he asked. “She’s always very pleasant to me.”

  “I like her. She’s nice. I can’t really explain any more than that. I’ll call her if we need to. First, I want to make sure Wanda wasn’t lying.”

  Chase leaned back against the bench where we were sitting. “I wish she’d go ahead and appear. I have an early morning meeting with the new man who’s in charge of the Templar Knights.”

  “Yeah? What’s he like?”

  “Young. Very young. He says he’s eighteen, but I think he may only be fourteen or fifteen, tops.”

  “That’s young. How did he get to be in charge?”

  “He’s the best rider I’ve ever seen. The men respect that. They don’t care if he’s too young to drink in the pub.”

  “Are you going to let him lead the horsemen?”

  “I don’t think I have much choice.”

  I heard a terrible sound in the brush around us. “Did you hear something?” I whispered.

  “Yes.” Chase sat up. “Is that Isabelle?”

  There was whispering and then moaning again. I wasn’t sure if it was a cat or someone crying. I didn’t think there were any cats living in the castle, although I wasn’t completely sure. I knew the queen had a small Yorkie. Maybe she had a cat too.

  Chase got to his feet. “Isabelle? Is that you?”

  The wailing continued. It seemed to get closer to the courtyard. I stood beside Chase. My heart was pounding. It was difficult to breathe.

  “Isabelle?” I called into the darkness as well. “If you’re here, show yourself.”

  There was a bright light from above us. I grabbed Chase’s hand as I looked up. The light resolved into a gauzy figure. “Look! There she is. Wanda was right.”

  “Isabelle!” Chase said.

  As I continued to watch, there was a loud cry that reverberated through the night. Tears started to my eyes as the bright, female form above us plummeted toward the stones at our feet. For a moment I could see the startled and terrified expression on Isabelle’s dying face as she lay there facing the sky.

  It was as though I was Isabelle. I felt the terrible pain that raced through her broken body. Her heart slowed as her lungs filled with blood. She/I knew that we would never walk again—never see another day.

  I felt a woman’s skirt touch my arm, and looked up into her face as she stared down at me. I reached for her, begging for help though I couldn’t say the words.

  My head dropped to the stones with her name on my lips.

  “Rita.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “No! No! No! Rita can’t be the killer.” I had raged about what I’d seen since I’d awakened on a sofa in the castle.

  Chase had brought me here and called an ambulance. I had him cancel that call when I woke up. There was nothing wrong with me—except that I’d seen Isabelle’s death as though it was my own.

  “Shh! Keep your voice down,” he said. “We don’t want everyone in the castle to wake up and discuss this with us.”

  “Sorry.” I dropped down on the sofa again, exhausted. “I don’t believe Rita killed Isabelle. She’s just not like that.”

  “It was your vision, or whatever. There’s no proof that Rita did anything. Let’s say that what you saw was real. Rita could’ve checked on Isabelle. That’s why she was close to her.”

  “You’re right.” I grasped at the explanation. “That’s what it was. It has to be. The last thing Isabelle saw was Rita checking on her after she came out in the garden to smoke. Isabelle didn’t die right away.”

  Chase lounged back in a matching red velvet chair. We were in the visitor’s lounge where people waited for audiences with the king and queen. “It wasn’t real anyway, Jessie. If you’re feeling better, let’s go home.”

  “But why would Isabelle want me to see that moment if it didn’t mean anything? She could have showed me the face of the person who pushed her off the terrace.”

  “We should definitely go home. You have to get a good night’s sleep and forget all this.”

  I stopped pacing and stared at him. “I have to talk to Madame Lucinda. She’ll know what this means.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to involve her.”

  “Not in looking for a ghost who might or might not appear. This is different. I need to see her.”

  He got to his feet. “Okay. Let’s find out if she’s still awake.”

  We left the castle. Gus was at the gate, a big smile on his face. “What ho, night travelers. Where do you go so late? Were you two staying at the castle tonight? I didn’t get a memo on that. They’re supposed to let me know if anyone unusual is here.”

  “We’re not unusual,” Chase said. “And if I find you away from your post again, I’m going to tell the king. There’s a reason you’re supposed to be here. If you need help, I can have some of my security guys split shifts with you.”

  Gus wasn’t intimidated by Chase’s words. “If I need help, I’ll ask for it. What are you and Jessie doing here so late?”

  “A better question might be—where were you when Isabelle was killed?” I asked. “I walked out this way. You were gone.”

  “I can’t stand here all the time,” Gus replied.

  “Exactly,” Chase added. “This is why you need help—unless you’re going to start dating someone in the castle again. These walks into the Village aren’t going to work.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Gus’s voice was gruff. “You two, get out of here. I’ll see you later.”

  There was still some activity in the otherwise quiet Village. Lights and sound were coming from the Lady in the Lake Tavern as we went by. I didn’t care what was going on there, and hurried Chase past it before he felt the need to knock on Tilly’s door.

  “I can’t believe you’re afraid of her,” he razzed me. “I’ve seen you stand up to other people without even thinking about it.”

  “It’s not just her. It’s the zombie that’s always with her.”

  “He’s not a zombie, Jessie.” Chase laughed. “Tilly has her own myth she’s trying to perpetrate. Don’t fall for it.”

  “Whatever—just don’t pick fights with them. As far as I know, you don’t have any white magic to combat her black magic.”

  He put his arm around me. “Whatever you say.”

  As we continued around the edge of Mirror Lake, there was music and the sound of incredibly bad singing coming from the Queen’s Revenge pirate ship. Grigg, the ex-police officer turned pirate, yelled drunkenly at us. Chase held up one hand and saluted him.

  The remainder of the walk to Madame Lucinda’s tent was quiet and dark. I couldn’t tell as we approached if there were lights on in her tent or not. I didn’t want to simply walk in, but it’s hard to knock on cloth.

  Before I could face this conundrum, the fortuneteller herself came out into the moonlight. “Lady Jessie. Sir Bailiff. A pleasant evening to you.”

  “You knew we were coming,” I said as I nudged Chase.

  “Jessie has had a weird night,” he said. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

  “Not at all.” She was as gracious as ever. “I was actually expecting Jessie and the cobbler. I felt sure he’d want his magic back by now.”

  “He still has some time to reclaim it,” I reminded her. “I think you’re right. He’s miserable without it.”

  She shrugged. “As is frequently the case. But if you’re not here for that reason, what is the purpose of your visit?”

  Chase glanced around. There were a few monks walking the cobblestones with lanterns. They wished us all a good night. “It might be better if we go inside. I don’t think Jessie wants to share what she
has to say with everyone in the Village.”

  Madame Lucinda opened the tent flap and stood back. “Please. I am always happy to have guests.”

  We stepped through the portal and sat at her table that held a crystal ball. I took a quick peek at the shelf above her chair. The dragon was there, asleep.

  “Do you see it now?” I whispered to Chase.

  He looked up and nodded. “Yes. I’ve seen it before. A really nice dragon statue. I don’t see it moving or breathing fire, do you?”

  “No. Not right now.”

  Madame Lucinda took her place opposite us. “Buttercup is resting. Dragons are not creatures of the night. They love the sun.”

  Chase glanced up again. The dragon hadn’t moved. “Uh–sure.”

  “Never mind.” I concentrated instead on Madame Lucinda. “I’ve had some kind of vision, or I was able to see through Princess Isabelle’s eyes as she died. I know that sounds strange, but that’s what it was like.”

  She sat forward, her eyes deeply focused on me. “What was this vision?”

  I explained why we’d been in the garden and what I’d seen. “But I know Rita didn’t kill her. Why wouldn’t Isabelle want me to see who the killer is?”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t know. Perhaps you saw what she saw. It was true with Wanda, was it not? She didn’t see the face of her killer and couldn’t communicate that to you.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “But this was so much different. I didn’t have this kind of experience with Wanda.”

  “Each experience is different.”

  “I know Rita. I know she didn’t kill Isabelle.”

  “And she didn’t beat herself up,” Chase added. “Just because you saw one part of this doesn’t mean it was the whole picture, Jessie. Sir Dwayne still looks like our best suspect.”

  Madame Lucinda shifted her pointed gaze to him. “I believe you are also only allowing yourself to see one part of the picture, Sir Bailiff. You must look at the entire image to find your answers.”

  “Thank you.” I realized our session was over.

  “But—” Chase was determined to get answers.

  “I am fatigued.” Madame Lucinda got to her feet. “Excuse me, Bailiff, Lady Jessie.”

  Chase stalked out of the purple and gold tent.

  I started to follow him, but Madame Lucinda held me back.

  “The last sight we have is impressed on the mind’s eye,” she said. “It could have easily been the ground Isabelle fell upon, or a tree. You must learn why she saw Rita Martinez. Then you will have your answer.”

  “Thank you.” I inclined my head in respect. “There’s something to this hoodoo stuff, isn’t there?”

  “Indeed, Lady Jessie.”

  I left her and caught up with Chase. He was already to the Monastery Bakery and hadn’t noticed I wasn’t with him. “Hey! Where’s the fire?”

  He stopped and glanced around. “Sorry. I thought you were with me.”

  I ducked under his arm so it was across my shoulders. “Always.”

  He kissed me. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  I lay in bed for hours trying to figure out what Madame Lucinda was trying to tell me about Isabelle—and I’d forgotten to tell her about the vision I’d had of her outside the Dungeon.

  Maybe she was reinforcing my own feelings that Rita hadn’t killed the princess. Yes, they wanted the same man, but Rita knew as well as I did that Isabelle wouldn’t want him for long. All she had to do was wait and catch Sir Dwayne on the rebound.

  I had to do much the same thing with Chase. He’d been dating Isabelle when we met, too. It wasn’t that long after that we’d met that she and Chase weren’t together anymore. I’d never asked if the decision to break up was Chase’s or Isabelle’s. It wasn’t like Chase met me and we fell madly in love. Our romance came about after knowing each other for a while.

  The point was that Rita might have been jealous, but I didn’t believe she would’ve killed Isabelle to get Sir Dwayne.

  It had to be that Isabelle fell off the terrace. Rita walked into the garden to smoke and saw her there. Isabelle looked up and saw Rita’s face. Rita moved closer to check on her. Isabelle died. The last thing she saw was imprinted in her memory.

  It made sense to me. Maybe there was even proof. Who’d called 911 to report Isabelle’s fall? It was probably Rita.

  But why show me that moment if it wasn’t important?

  Maybe it was important to Isabelle. It was her last memory of her life. Maybe that was all that mattered.

  If we could’ve actually talked to Isabelle, asked her questions, we might know the truth now. Why was everything associated with the spirit world so difficult to understand? I didn’t like the idea that Isabelle might have as much to say as Wanda, and follow me around the Village, but a simple statement of the killer’s identity would’ve been nice.

  I thought that the assault on Rita had something to do with Isabelle’s death—but what? Sir Dwayne had an alibi for when Rita was attacked. I didn’t know if his time was accounted for during Isabelle’s death. The two events felt intertwined in my thoughts.

  Chase’s cell phone rang at six-thirty the next morning. I’d spent the entire night trying to figure it out and hadn’t noticed that gray morning light had crept through the windows.

  “Who the hell—?” Chase tried to find his cell phone on the side table and knocked it on the floor.

  “It must not be security people.” I yawned. “It’s not the radio.”

  It was Detective Almond. He was on his way to the Village to talk to Chase about something new that he’d learned.

  “I hope the monks are awake and have coffee ready,” Chase said after he’d finished talking. “I don’t want to have him in here, and I need a large coffee.”

  “Why not have him here?” I asked, getting out of bed. “Only we can see the changes the sorcerer did to the apartment. We’ve had other people from the Village here.”

  “I don’t know. It makes me nervous. I don’t want to worry that the apartment is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.” He scrubbed his eyes with his hands. “People in the Village wouldn’t care even if they could see it. Detective Almond would.”

  I hadn’t realized that he felt that way. I thought about it while he showered and shaved. He was dressed and ready to go in a few minutes. I watched as he laced his knee-high boots.

  “Are you embarrassed about the apartment?” I asked him.

  “No.” He pushed his braid back on his shoulder as he bent over. “But I also don’t dress like this when I go to the police station. I don’t like my two worlds colliding. That’s all.”

  I went around and kissed him. “Can I come too?”

  “For the coffee or the news?”

  “Both. And to spend time with you before the day starts.”

  “If you can be ready in five minutes.”

  “Since the Village isn’t open yet, I can be ready in two minutes.” I threw my pajamas on the floor and put on the denim shorts and tank top I’d been wearing last night. “All I have to do is run a comb though my hair.”

  “Why are you so awake this morning?” He got to his feet. “Usually, it’s all I can do to get you out of bed by eight.”

  “Don’t ask,” I yelled from the bathroom as I combed my hair and brushed my teeth.

  “You were awake all night thinking about the thing with Isabelle, weren’t you?”

  “Not just Isabelle—Rita too. I think Madame Lucinda is right about what Isabelle saw.” I slipped my feet into sandals.

  “What part of that was right?” he asked as we started out of the apartment. “I don’t remember anything she said making any sense.”

  Detective Almond was on the stairs with his hand up to knock on the door. “I see you’re ready to go. You’re the best, Manhattan. I hope the coffee is good and hot.”

  He walked past us and into the apartment.

  * * *

  How did it work? I wond
ered as I measured coffee into the coffeemaker. I knew it was some kind of spell that the sorcerer had put on the apartment. But the other space was so small—what was Detective Almond seeing as I worked in the much larger kitchen area?

  He and Chase were sitting in the living room on two chairs. We didn’t even have two chairs in the old apartment. This was the first time I’d stopped to think about it. It was probably because Chase had said something.

  “We have some donuts.” I smiled at them as the coffee perked. “Would you like a few?”

  Detective Almond glared at me. “That whole thing about cops eating donuts isn’t true. Besides,” he patted his belly, “I’m trying to cut back. My physical is coming up. No cream or sugar for me either, Jessie. Thanks.”

  I brought my cup, and Detective Almond’s, over to the chairs. Chase got his own and filled it with as much milk and sugar as the cup would hold. I sat on the sofa, wondering where it looked like I was sitting through our guest’s eyes.

  “I’m trying to make a case against Dwayne Barbee, but so far, I keep running into dead ends.” Detective Almond slurped his coffee. “Several people saw him come back to the castle before Ms. Martinez was assaulted. They had some kind of tiff after their big make-out session at the hatchet-throwing game that Jessie saw. They both agree on that account. He’s off the hook for that.”

  I was happy about that for Rita’s sake, even if she and Sir Dwayne broke up.

  “I’ve looked into the possibility that he could’ve murdered Ms. Franklin,” Detective Almond continued. “He’s too big to wear that green shirt we found in the secret passage, but the medical examiner is positive that the material from the shirt matches the material we found in her hand.”

  “Maybe he didn’t do it,” I said.

  “Whose side are you on anyway?” Detective Almond glared at me. “I discovered something in the course of the investigation that I’m not happy about.”

  “What’s that?” Chase asked with a frown at me.

  “We thought Ms. Martinez had phoned for the ambulance after she saw the princess fall. As far as we can tell, she was the first one to see Ms. Franklin on the ground. We’ve all gone according to that assumption. Then Mr. Barbee tells me during questioning that he called 911 after he went down to the garden. I checked with emergency services, and he was telling the truth. What’s up with that?”