Harrowing Hats

by Joyce; Jim Lavene

  “I’m seriously lusting after the big one over there,” a young wench who serves ale at the Pleasant Pheasant said in a dreamy voice. “They say his name is Neil. How hot is that?”

  I glanced the way she pointed. The knight looked like the same one who’d brought me home from the encampment in the forest, the one I’d flirted with outside the gem shop. At least I thought it looked like the same one. He was big like him anyway. Otherwise, they all looked the same in their costumes.

  “He’s got a good seat on his horse,” I added to the conversation.

  “That’s not all he’s got,” the tavern wench said.

  “Who are they?” one of the fortune-tellers asked.

  “No one knows,” Bo Peep responded. “They have a secret society. Someone told me they can never say their names aloud.”

  “Wow!” the serving wench said again.

  Did I say residents followed the knights to the field? Perhaps I should be a bit more specific. I looked at their audience. There were no men, not even boys, in the group watching them practice. And all the women had lustful expressions on their faces.

  “Have you been out to the encampment yet?” Bo Peep asked.

  “No,” the fortune-teller replied. “But I’d like to. What’s it like?”

  “Like them,” Bo Peep answered. “All black and hard and male. Lots of leather and smoke.”

  This was getting kind of weird, even for me. I decided to head back to the Dungeon and hope Chase would be there soon. It was almost eight P.M. already. My nerves couldn’t stand much more.

  The knights’ practice began to break up, too. It was just a teaser for the real thing tomorrow. The show was over, and the residents sighed as the horsemen left the field. There was still a lot of admiration going on in quiet conversation. It was clear everyone (female) loved them.

  I turned back from the fence and skirted between the shops that made up Armorer’s Alley. It was quiet, cool, and dark now. The lights from the Village glowed softly as they would have if we were really living during the Renaissance.

  I heard the sound of a horse coming toward me. This time, I stood still on one side, thinking he’d pass me by on his way back to the forest. But he slowed and stopped, gazing down at me.

  “Good evening, my lady.” He inclined his head. His deep, raspy voice sounded the same. My heart did a little dance, and I told it to stop.

  “Good evening, Sir Knight.”

  “A lovely lady like you should not have to walk through the night to her house.” He dismounted in a heartbreakingly elegant fashion—especially considering he was wearing armor. “Allow me to see you to your domicile.”

  It was only a short walk past the blacksmith’s shop and Stage Caravan to reach the Dungeon. I should have said no thanks. Instead, I kind of nodded and simpered. He swept me off my feet into his arms and settled me on his saddle, then proceeded to walk beside, leading the horse.

  I was more than swept away—I was blown away. My heart was pounding, breath coming fast. I couldn’t even think of anything to say to him. It was almost unimaginable.

  “Your clothing is most provocative, my lady,” the knight filled in for me. “Mayhap you should be more careful when alone in the dark.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured him, but my voice sounded a little squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean, I’m done working for the day. Time for some fun, right?”

  “A Templar Knight knows no fun.”

  “How . . . sad. You must do something to relax after a hard day of—well, riding and whatever else you do.”

  “Indeed.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I didn’t ask him to explain. The horse moved slowly beneath me, a perfect angel. It was amazing considering the power I’d witnessed in the animal during practice.

  “Look up! The stars attempt to rival the gleam in your eyes this night, my lady. I fear they are doomed to disappointment. No light, even a heavenly one, can achieve that unworthy goal.”

  “Uh—excuse me?” Was he really flirting with me? I thought—well, maybe.

  “We have reached your home.” He came to my side and lifted me off the horse. I felt like a doll in his grasp. His hands were strong at my waist.

  “Thanks. I appreciate the ride.”

  “You are most welcome, my lady fair.”

  This was going too far. I was attracted to him, no doubt. But this couldn’t continue. It was fun, but I wouldn’t do this to Chase. “I’m sorry, Sir Knight, if I’ve given you the wrong impression.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes. I’m—with someone. There are hundreds of fair maidens who would love to ride around with you and enjoy—your horse. But I have someone waiting for me and I’ll have to bid you good-bye.”

  He seemed surprised at first. Kind of taken aback. Finally he bent his head and kissed my hand. His lips lingered on my skin, making it sizzle. I definitely didn’t need to see him up close again.

  “The loss of your company saddens me, lady. This man must be extraordinary to enjoy such loyalty.”

  “He is indeed, Sir Knight. Farewell.” I took my hand away while I could and ran—not walked—into the Dungeon and shut the door. I stood with my back against it for a long time, breathing hard. I went upstairs to take another shower and get rid of the telltale horse smell from my ride home.

  When I got out, Chase was there with food from Polo’s Pasta that smelled wonderful. “Sorry I’m so late. I’m going to jump in the shower, then we’ll eat.”

  “Never mind that.” I grabbed him and brought his face close to mine. “I need some affection.”

  He pulled away. “Sorry, Jessie. Just a minute and we’ll be fine.”

  I sat on the bed and waited for him. Chase isn’t usually that particular. I mean, he showers regularly but usually he can manage to kiss me without getting cleaned up. What was he in such a hurry to wash off? Maybe just good honest sweat. It had been a long, hot day. And this was a special night. I reassured myself out of my sudden funk.

  He came back out in snug jeans that clung to him in all the right places and an old Renaissance Village T-shirt that hugged his damp chest. His dark hair was loose around his shoulders as he put pasta and salad on plates and lit a candle.

  “I have wine, too.” He poured each of us a glass, then sat on the bed beside me. “To us,” he proposed a toast. “Happy anniversary.”

  I thought about it for a long moment, then looked at him blankly. “What?”

  “It’s our anniversary. We met five years ago today.”

  “Oh.”

  He put down his glass. “You don’t sound very excited.”

  “I’m more—surprised. That’s all.”

  “Okay. You still sound kind of funny. Is something wrong?”

  “No.” I held up my glass and smiled. “You just have a better memory than me.” We clinked our glasses together and kissed before we ate our pasta.

  I stopped thinking, speculating. This wasn’t turning out to be what I’d expected. But that was okay. Chase remembered that we met five years ago. That was good, right?

  “So ask me,” he prompted.

  “Ask you?”

  “Ask me when I knew that I loved you. That’s what everyone wants to know.”

  I took a big drink of wine. “When did you know?”

  “The minute I met you. You were working as a kitchen wench, carrying a platter of food. You asked me if I wanted corn or potatoes. Remember?”

  I didn’t remember, and it made me feel guilty. “You really do have a better memory than me.”

  “When did you know, Jessie?”

  I looked into his clear brown eyes, loving his lips and the little imperfections in his handsome face. “I don’t know. It just kind of happened, I guess.”

  He frowned and took a big drink of wine. “Really? No magic moment?”

  “I’m afraid not. I remember liking you a lot—admiring you. But I don’t have a specific moment. I just knew I loved you one day. I do
n’t think you were even around. I think I was at the university.”

  He made a noise somewhere between a hmm and a humph.

  “Is that okay? I mean, maybe everyone doesn’t have a magic moment, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t in love, right?”

  Chase’s radio went off. There was a problem with the water at the Good Luck Fountain in the Village Square. It was shooting up fifty feet in the air, according to Chase’s security minions.

  “I have to go.” He got up, found other pants to wear that weren’t as cute, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Don’t wait up. This might be a long night.”

  I wasn’t happy about the situation. We didn’t resolve the magic-moment issue. I still felt kind of out of the loop. He’d looked so hurt when I didn’t remember when I first knew I loved him. I probably should’ve made something up—but it was such a surprise.

  I couldn’t just let it go like this. I didn’t want to go to sleep knowing he was out there battling a menacing fountain, thinking I didn’t love him the way he loved me.

  Part of this was guilt over my lustful feelings toward the knight who’d brought me home. I had to show Chase—and myself—that our relationship was important and special to me.

  I got rid of what was left from dinner as fast as I could. Dessert got stowed away for later. I pulled on jeans, a tank top, and sneakers and left the Dungeon headed for the Village Square.

  I could hear the noise from the center of the Village. A few residents had lined up to watch maintenance deal with the geyser that the Good Luck Fountain had become. Some offduty security men watched them work, too. People without TVs will watch anything for amusement.

  “Have you seen Chase out here?” I asked one of the Lovely Laundry Ladies.

  “No. If I had, I wouldn’t be watching the fountain, would I?”

  Ignoring her, I went to ask Shakespeare if he’d seen Chase. It had only been, at the most, thirty minutes since Chase had left the Dungeon. Someone had to have seen him.

  “He was here,” Shakespeare (Pat Snyder) said. “He left maintenance in control. Sit down, Jessie. Have some wine with me. The night is young and the fountain is flowing. There must be an ode there somewhere. I’ll think of it tomorrow.”

  I was completely baffled. I knew I hadn’t passed him on the way from the Dungeon. The rest of the Village was quiet. Where was Chase? Why wasn’t he here? If he’d gone back and found me missing, surely he’d think about me following him. I walked back toward the Main Gate.

  “Maybe I can help you find your lover,” a man I didn’t know said. “I can at least point you in the right direction.”

  He was dressed like another madman. His pants were baggy and threadbare. He had the customary pan and utensils on his side. His face was hidden by his large flowered hat, but I knew it wasn’t the reporter from this afternoon. This madman was taller and thinner even with the baggy clothes.

  “Thanks. But I can find him on my own.” What was with the extra madmen this summer? Did Beth make too many madman costumes and decide to hand them out to anyone passing by the costume shop?

  “That wasn’t necessarily a request.”

  I felt something hard and angular pushed into my side. “Are you serious? That better be a gun or I’m going to hurt you.”

  Eighteen

  “Oh, it’s a gun all right, honey,” he whispered. “Let’s walk away from the event here and find someplace quiet to talk.”

  The madmen truly were quite mad this year. I wasn’t sure if I should put my hands up or not. The gun in my side nudged me toward the back of the manor houses at Squire’s Lane. It was dark, unusually dark even for the Village, in the shadow of the large, brick houses.

  I’d never really thought much about it before, but it struck me as odd that no one lived in these houses. They were empty shells made to impress the visitors. I wondered why they never put shops or Village housing inside. Too bad, since if someone actually lived here, I could call for help.

  “This is good,” he grunted at me. “You’re Jessie Morton, right? You work with Andre Hariot at the Hat House.”

  “Is this some kind of weird survey thing?”

  “You people all have a strange sense of humor down here. Is it normal, or something that comes from living here with all these freaks?”

  “Excuse me. You’re dressed like a madman and you’re holding a gun on me. I think you might be one of those freaks.”

  “Is that what this is supposed to be?” He chuckled. “I was wondering. What’s the idea of the pan and spoon?”

  “You’re supposed to sit along the street and bang the pan with the spoon, all the while making either witty or disgusting remarks to visitors as they pass you. Don’t they give out character guides anymore? When I started here, everyone knew what their job was. But they also knew not to bring guns into the Village. Knives, daggers, swords, bow and arrow, lances—”

  I was stalling. I thought if I could keep him talking, someone else might walk this way. People with guns made me nervous. How did he know my name? Why single me out to harass?

  “Never mind all that.” He made a snorting noise and shifted position a little like his feet hurt. “I want to know what’s going on with Hariot. I think you’re the one who’s going to tell me. I need to hear whatever that little murdering weasel has to say. I want to know his schedule and how you fit into all of it. I’ve been watching you come and go, skipping around in your little costume. It’s time to get real.”

  Boy, had he come to the wrong place. “This is something else about Andre and the murder in Hollywood, isn’t it?”

  “You got it.”

  “And you’re a reporter?”

  “No! I’m a private detective. I was hired by Kathleen Hariot’s children from her first marriage. They’re tired of waiting for justice. They want to see that snake who killed their mother go to prison.”

  “That sounds like justice to me!”

  “Don’t get smart, missy. Just tell me what I need to know and nobody will get hurt.”

  I wasn’t in the best of places, standing in the dark where no one could see me with a madman who had a gun in my side and didn’t know what to do with his pan and spoon.

  I didn’t know what to do either. There were no weapons within reach—not that a sword, shield, or catapult would help me out. A gun was top of the food chain when it came to weapons. It was faster, easier, and deadlier in most cases. I know a little self-defense but not enough to take on someone who was ready to kill me for information.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said honestly. “I’m Andre’s apprentice. We make hats for the Village. I don’t know anything about his role in either murder. You said you were watching me today. You know what I do. I run a lot of errands for him. That’s about it.”

  “You spend time with him. He confides in you. Tell me what he says.”

  “He hasn’t confided anything in me unless you count that thing about the script girl getting pregnant on the Ghost-busters set. We talk about movies. That’s it.”

  There were actually spotlights in the Village—giant, eye-rending lights that were only turned on during emergencies. They kind of destroyed the whole Renaissance atmosphere. The fountain must have suddenly been designated as an emergency, thank goodness, and the stadium lights, disguised as trees, came on.

  The man who held the gun on me was facing the lights. He made an argh sound and covered his eyes, but not before I kicked him in the leg and brought my knee up into his groin.

  As he fell to the ground, I ran. I didn’t wait to see if he was getting up again or not. I was immediately glad that I’d worn my tennis shoes instead of my sandals.

  I stopped the first security man I saw and told him what happened. He followed me back to the manor houses, but the private investigator was gone.

  “I could call Chase,” he offered, betraying his knowledge of our relationship.

  “Do that,” I said a little harshly. “I’d like to know where the hell he is. H
e was supposed to be out here helping with the fountain.”

  But there was no answer from Chase’s radio. The security man shrugged. “Sorry. Maybe he’s busy.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “Thanks anyway.”

  Was that pity I saw in his eyes? Did he feel sorry for me? Worse, did he know something I didn’t know about Chase’s weird disappearances?

  I hoped not, for Chase’s sake. Between being held against my will at gunpoint and Chase not being there to save me or even prevent it from happening in the first place, I wasn’t feeling very charitable toward him at that moment.

  “Would you like me to walk you back to the Dungeon?” the security man asked.

  “No. I’m fine.” As I walked away from him, the fountain with the dolphins where I’d gotten water for the knight that day, sprang a gusher. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full.”

  I was too angry to sleep. I wandered around the Village, daring that stupid man to come at me again. I was armed with a heavy wooden stake that had been used to anchor part of a sheep enclosure. Maybe it would’ve been better against vampires, but it wasn’t Halloween and I was convinced I could do some damage with it.

  There were always some lights left on in the Village at night. Most of them were small and had something to do with security—not like the big lights at the Village Square. I was used to them and ignored most of them as I went by. But when I reached Da Vinci’s Drawings, I noticed a larger, more commercial light at the Three Chocolatiers Shoppe.

  As far as I knew (like Chase said to the Rizzo brothers), no one was allowed in the shop. Someone was messing around in there where they weren’t supposed to be. It made me angrier thinking about it. Poor philandering Cesar couldn’t even be buried, but someone could go through his shop. Maybe nobody else was around to take care of it, but I decided to put my foot down. Enough was enough.

  Nineteen

  I sneaked around the back of the shop, clutching my solid piece of wood in my hand. Maybe I’d get lucky and find the killer trying to cover his tracks. I knew it was unlikely—not to mention a little too late. Detective Almond and his men had been over the shop several times since Cesar had died.