by Joyce
Chase glanced at me before he spoke. “Are you sure?”
“You can listen to the tape if you like.” Detective Almond slurped more coffee. “It leaves me with a problem. Was Ms. Martinez the first one in the garden or not? If she was, why didn’t she call 911? If not, why?”
“Where was Sir Dwayne?” I asked.
“You mean Mr. Barbee?” Detective Almond didn’t look happy to realize that I was still there. Maybe I was supposed to get the coffee and disappear. But if this were the old apartment, where would I disappear to?
“Where did he say he was?” Chase facilitated.
“He said he was in her room—one of her chambermaids or whatever you call them—agrees that he was nowhere near the princess when it happened.” Detective Almond looked around the kitchen. “You got any plain bagels? I’m really hungry.”
“Sorry. We’re fresh out,” I said. “Are you saying that you think Rita was involved with Isabelle’s death now?”
Chapter Twenty
Detective Almond shrugged. “I’m saying this case makes less sense to me now than it did when I started. But that’s the way it goes when I have to investigate something here. Is there any place that makes bacon for breakfast around here?”
“We don’t do much breakfast in the Village,” Chase said. “You know that. What do you want me to do?”
“Ms. Martinez is coming home from the hospital today. Her injuries looked bad but weren’t life threatening,” Detective Almond told him. “It’s possible she knocked herself around to take away any suspicion that she could’ve been responsible for Ms. Franklin’s death. I’d like you to keep an eye on her. I know Rita. She’s a nice person—but she’s also strong as a horse. She could’ve thrown Ms. Franklin from the terrace and went down to make sure the job was done.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” I told him.
“I’ve seen people do worse, Jessie.” He scanned the apartment as he got to his feet. “You two are gonna have to do better than this place if you plan to have kids someday. You need something bigger, Manhattan. I’ll talk to you later—after I find some bacon.”
Chase and I watched him open the door to the apartment and leave.
“Well?” I asked him.
“I guess it looks like the old place to him.” He hugged me. “Let’s go find some breakfast and some decent coffee.”
“Decent? I thought it was pretty good.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
We ended up being joined by a large group of Village security guards as we sat at the Monastery Bakery. Several of them were new and had questions about their jobs. The biggest question was when they were supposed to call Chase.
“I expect you to be able to figure out what to do in most situations,” Chase told them. “I’ve decided to choose a supervisor for each shift that the rest of you can call for small things that come up. I know how confusing some of the situations can be. When in doubt, call your supervisor. The supervisors will decide when to call me.”
I stared at him with awe and admiration. He’d finally decided to delegate some of his work. I knew it was hard for him. I didn’t say anything then, but once we were alone, I threw my arms around him. “You did it! I’m so proud of you. How do you feel?”
“It’s not that big a deal.” He hugged me and then moved away. “You were right. I’ve been taking on too much. There are other things I should be focused on.”
“You’re going to put more time into your patent finding business?”
He frowned. “No. But I told my dad I’d take a look at some stuff for him. He needs an extra set of eyes.”
That sounded serious. Chase’s father had gone to prison for a short time for fraud. His family had enough money that it hadn’t really affected them. I wondered what exactly his father had asked him to do.
“Can I do something to help?” I was hoping he might tell me what was going on.
“No. I can handle it. I’ll be working online with Morgan too.”
Great. Chase’s father and his brother, Morgan, both hated me and didn’t want Chase to live at the Village. His mother too, for that matter. I hoped whatever it was would be short term.
I tried not to let it hurt my feelings that he didn’t want to tell me everything. I probably wouldn’t know what he was talking about anyway. No doubt it was stock market information. I just hoped it was legal stock market stuff. I didn’t want Chase to go to jail.
He kissed me. “I’ll see you for lunch, Jessie.”
I was about to go check on Bill, even though it was early, when I saw Rita coming through the resident’s entrance by the Main Gate. She was alone, using a cane to help her walk, her arm in a white sling.
“Let me help you.” I took the bag she carried. “How are you?”
“As good as can be expected.” She smiled but I could see it was painful. “I had to leave my flowers at the hospital. The taxi driver wouldn’t take them.”
“I’m sorry. You should have called and we would have picked you up.”
“I didn’t think about it, Jessie, but thanks for offering.”
We walked past the mermaid lagoon. It was empty now—too early for the mermaids. Most residents weren’t up yet.
“Detective Almond paid me a call as I was being discharged this morning,” Rita said. “I believe he thinks I killed Isabelle. Crazy idea, huh?”
“Crazy. He came to see Chase this morning too.”
“Why does he think I killed her?”
“Dwayne is off his hit-list now. I think he knows how you feel about him.”
“What do you think, Jessie?”
“I can’t imagine you hurting anyone.” I didn’t hesitate to give my opinion. I wished I could tell her about my vision of Isabelle. I wasn’t sure how she’d take it. “There’s the thing about you not calling 911, even though you were there right after Isabelle fell. That’s what detective Almond is looking at. What happened?”
Rita was uncomfortable. “How does he know? Never mind.” She sighed. “I’m sure everyone knows by now.”
“What happened?”
“I was standing there, getting ready for a cigarette, looking at the flowers. And she fell. Just dropped down from the terrace. The sound was—I can’t describe it. But I knew she was hurt bad, you know?”
I nodded.
“I walked closer when she didn’t move, and looked down into her face. I called her name. I think she was already dead.”
Not quite. I remembered the last thing Isabelle saw.
“And then I walked away.” Rita bit her lip. “God help me. I turned around and went back into the castle. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was like I didn’t feel anything about her being dead. It wasn’t like I thought Dwayne and I could be together if she was dead. I just didn’t feel anything.”
“What happened then?”
“I walked into the kitchen. Someone rang for a snack, and it hit me what I’d done. I started to call for help, but someone had already called.”
“Dwayne.”
Rita wiped tears impatiently from her face. “It was stupid and wrong. I know that, Jessie. But I didn’t kill her. She was only a kid when she came to work at the castle. I never liked her, but I wouldn’t have hurt her.”
“Is that what you told the police?”
“Part of it.” She smiled. “You know—we keep our secrets here at the Village. The rest that I told you wouldn’t have made Detective Almond think any better of me. I’m not sure what to do now.”
“I guess just get better and see what happens.”
“It’s a funny thing,” she remarked as we reached the castle gate. “I really felt like the person who attacked me did it because of Isabelle.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know.” She stopped walking and faced me. Her face was bruised, lips swollen. “I felt like the person was punishing me for what happened, because I left Isabelle there. To begin with, I thought it was Isabelle. It was definitely a woman.”
“A woman did this to you?”
“She used a baseball bat or something. She was strong. I didn’t get a good look at her, but it was a woman.”
Gus was at the gate to the castle. “Ladies.”
“Try it, and lose a hand.” Rita didn’t mince words with him about his habit of pinching butts. “I’m in no mood for your nonsense.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Gus asked me.
I ignored him, and didn’t follow Rita inside. One of the kitchen helpers was there to meet her. She took her bag and helped her into the castle.
Was Rita telling the truth? What she’d done was bad, but not murder. If Sir Dwayne could account for his time when Isabelle was killed and Rita didn’t kill her—who did? Was it the same woman who’d attacked Rita?
***
Bill surprised me by being up and dressed by the time I’d reached his house. “I’m moving into my own place today,” he said. “I feel like I have a new lease on life.”
Fred said he felt the same and then fell back on the sofa, snoring.
“I won’t miss that guy,” Bill said. “I think life in the Village is going to suit me just fine. Let’s go get some coffee. Do you have some people lined up to help me move today?”
I didn’t have anyone lined up, but I knew I could find a dozen people to take Bill’s things from the museum and Fred’s house to his new shop and apartment. “I think it’s going to be a great last day of the exhibit. I can’t wait for everyone to see your artistry.”
Bill threw open the front door and went down like a sack of old laundry on the cobblestones at my feet.
“What’s wrong?” I dropped to his side. “Bill? Are you hurt?”
All I could think was that Wanda had done something—hit him in the head, knocked the breath out of him—something to ruin his last day. She was good at that. I hadn’t seen her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there.
Bill was curled up on the cobblestones in the fetal position. His eyes, when I locked gazes with him, were desperate. “I can’t go out there. What was I thinking? I can’t face all those people. There are too many of them. I can’t make boots like I used to. I don’t know what to do.”
“I know what to do.” I tried to help him to his feet. “We have to get you down to Madame Lucinda’s and get your magic back. You can’t keep going this way. The Village has invested in you because of me. We’re not going down because you need your elf magic. Come on.”
I thought I could get him up, but his legs kept buckling under him. “Stay right here. I’ll think of something.”
“Maybe she could come here, Jessie.” He threw one arm across his face. “I don’t think I can go anywhere.”
Residents were waking up and going about their morning tasks to get ready for the Main Gate to open. Fairies giggled as they skipped by, and the walking tree we called the Green Man was careful as he practiced on his stilts.
I cut across the King’s Highway, running until I’d reached the small stand where visitors could hire a peasant-drawn cart to convey them around the Village. Justin, the peasant who ran the service, was just getting out of bed and pulling on his costume as I ran into his small house. “I need you,” I told him. “I need you right now.”
It took some bargaining—and the forty dollars I had in my pocket—to get Justin up and moving. I let him pull me to Fred’s house—seemed like a fair trade—and found Bill still on the ground.
“Help me get him in the cart.” I got down from the colorful one-person cart.
“That will cost you extra.” Justin grinned.
“Have I mentioned that my husband is the Bailiff? Don’t make me call him.”
Justin dropped the attitude and helped me try to move Bill to the cart. It was difficult since Bill’s body had become like a large piece of Jell-O. I grabbed his feet and legs. Justin grabbed his arms and shoulders. But Bill was not only dead weight but floppy dead weight at that.
“Just kill me, Jessie,” Bill cried out. “My life is over anyway.”
I was about to really lose it when Bart came walking by. “Greetings, my lady. Need you a hand or two?”
“Thank you, sir.” I curtsied. “It’s either that or we’re going to chop him into little pieces and let the dogs have at him.”
Bill moaned pitifully but still couldn’t move.
Bart grabbed him with one arm and tossed him into the cart. “There you are, lady. Where are you taking him?”
“To get his elf magic back.”
“Do you believe it’s real after all?” Bart whispered with a smile.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But he can’t function without it. We have to go to Madame Lucinda and get it back. I don’t want to lose my job because of him.”
“Allow me to assist you,” Bart offered gallantly.
Justin grinned. “Then you don’t need me, right?”
“We still need your cart, and I already paid you to pull it,” I reminded him.
Bart stared at Justin and shook one of his large fingers at him. “I can’t believe you asked this wonderful lady to pay you for your help, sir. In the Village, we have a code of helping each other. Taking money from a person in need is not part of that code.”
“I just thought it would be okay.” Justin tried to smile as he glanced at me and then looked contrite when he faced Bart who was at least double his size.
“Not okay at all,” Bart said. “Perhaps this will clarify my position.”
Bart picked Bill up again, and holding him in his arms like a child, he climbed on the cart and sat down. The sturdy wood creaked and groaned, but it held together. “You may proceed, sir.”
Justin stared at me. “You’re joking, right? You don’t think I can pull both these dudes all the way to the Main Gate, do you? I’m not a pack mule.”
Before I could say anything, Bart said, “I’m waiting. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
“Okay. Okay.” Justin handed me back my forty dollars. “There. All better now.”
Bart drummed his fingers on the side of the cart. An audience of residents was watching by then. Justin swallowed hard, took up the brightly painted yoke, and started slowly pulling Bart and Bill down the cobblestones.
Everyone came out to watch the spectacle. They cheered as though it was a parade. I didn’t know if Justin could make it all the way to Madame Lucinda’s tent, but he managed. He collapsed on the ground, breathing hard when he got there. Bart stepped down from the cart, smiled at him, and then took Bill inside.
I followed them quickly, pushing aside the tent flap. “Madame Lucinda!”
“No need to shout, Lady Jessie. I heard the commotion long before you got here.”
Bart gently laid Bill on a black velvet sofa that I could swear had never been there before. It was always amazing watching a man as big as Bart with his butterfly-gentle touch.
“Madame Lucinda.” He bowed to her and smiled. “I hope you can help this man. I must go to the castle, but it is always a pleasure seeing you and Buttercup.”
Wait! Could he see the dragon too? I never thought to ask him.
“It is always a pleasure to see you as well, my friend.” Madame Lucinda inclined her head elegantly.
Buttercup actually jumped from the shelf where she usually perched to the table. She gazed up at Bart with something approaching a smile on her face too.
“Good morning, Buttercup.” Bart scratched under her neck that she held out for him.
“You can see her!” I was very pleased not to be completely crazy.
Bart and Madame Lucinda’s heads swiveled toward me. “Of course,” he said. “Can’t everyone?”
Buttercup growled at me and leapt back to her perch.
“She’s not quite used to you, Lady Jessie,” Madame Lucinda explained.
I wanted to launch into a diatribe about everything that was weird with Buttercup and her mistress, but it would have to wait. Bart took his leave of us, and Bill rolled on the floor.
�
��I was afraid something like this would happen. Help me get him back on the sofa, Jessie.”
Madame Lucinda and I finally managed to get Bill back on the sofa. He was crying, almost not able to hold up his head. “Maybe I should call an ambulance,” I said.
“No need,” she told me. “I’ll return his elf magic, and he’ll be fine.”
She brought out a dark blue bottle, waiting to open it until she was standing beside Bill. Once she’d taken off the stopper, a bright light flashed from its deep blue depths. The light illuminated Bill for a moment and then disappeared.
“Was that it?” I asked, a little skeptical. “Was that the elf magic?”
“Indeed it was.” She sighed. “Foolish man for thinking he could live without it. If given such a blessing, what man would turn it aside?”
Bill had stopped groaning and slowly sat up. He stared at his hands and feet for a long time. “I’m alive.”
“Of course you’re alive,” Madame Lucinda said with a touch of irritation. “Lucky for you that I never take magic without saving it. Learn to use it. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. Don’t ever give it up again.”
He hopped to his feet and did a little impromptu jig. “You don’t have to worry about me, ma’am. I learned my lesson.” He made his ears wiggle and then ran out of the tent.
I felt like falling back on the sofa. There was too much drama and too little sleep. I smiled at Madame Lucinda and bowed my head. “Thank you for your help.”
“And how will you use your gift, Jessie?”
“I hope you’re not telling me that seeing dead people is my gift. If so, get a bottle and put it inside. I’ll be glad to give it up.”
She laughed. “You have so much to learn. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to come to me.”
I thanked her again, yawned, and left the tent. I could tell already that it was going to be a long day.
