Murderous Matrimony (Renaissance Faire Mystery)

by Lavene, Joyce

  Murderous Matrimony

  By

  Joyce and Jim Lavene

  A Renaissance Faire Mystery

  ©Copyright 2013

  Joyce and Jim Lavene

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Emmie Anne Studios

  http://www.emmieannestudios.com

  Book coach and editor

  http://www.jenichappelle.com/

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  “I have a bad feeling about today, Jessie.”

  The ghost of Wanda Le Fey began humming Bad Moon Rising from Creedence Clearwater Revival as she inspected her nails.

  I put my hand to my head and sipped my triple shot mocha, but there wasn’t enough caffeine in the universe to help with this situation. My usual breakfast, a handmade cinnamon roll, sat forgotten on a tiny brown napkin.

  Wanda had only been dead about two weeks. It seemed much longer. I’d played a small part in her death—I dyed her blue as a prank before she was brutally murdered.

  That left Wanda spending almost all of her time with me. Ghastly, blue, and naked—she was even worse dead than she’d been alive. She was free to wander wherever she chose—which was usually wherever I was. She’d been in the shower with me that morning, and stood behind me in the bathroom mirror as I brushed my teeth.

  I’d had to plead exhaustion or a headache every night with my fiancée since she’d died and come to stay with us in our tiny apartment. I knew he was wondering what was wrong with me.

  It was hard to kiss him knowing she was there laughing and making fun of everything we did. When we started cuddling, she made retching noises or stared close up with those terrible, burning eyes.

  “Is your cinnamon roll not to your liking, Lady Jessie?” Brother Carl asked as he started past my rough, wood table at the Monastery Bakery.

  Traffic at the Monastery Bakery in Renaissance Faire Village and Marketplace was brisk for nine a.m. The Main Gate wasn’t open yet. That meant the only customers were half-asleep residents, trying to get themselves together enough to cope with the ten thousand visitors who would walk the cobblestone paths that day at the theme park.

  Brother Carl was head of the bakery—and the Brotherhood of the Sheaf—a monk-like guild that believed in the power of baking bread. They lived at the Village, along with a few hundred lords, ladies, fools, knaves, knights, and shopkeepers.

  And me—Jessie Morton—former assistant history professor at the University of South Carolina, Ren Faire lover, and miserable wretch.

  Like all the other brothers in his order, Carl wore plain, black robes that were usually covered in flour. His face was nondescript, somewhere between thirty and fifty. He was medium height, and his dark hair was cut military short.

  “I’m sure it’s fine, brother. Thank you.”

  He sat with me. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You are about to embark on a new life, Lady Jessie Morton! You’re marrying the man of your dreams, and living here at the Village. Aren’t these things what you’ve always wished for?”

  They were exactly what I’d always wished for. I couldn’t deny it. The problem was that those things came with a ghost in my bed, and The Great Wedding Fiasco.

  It was less than two weeks until The Great Wedding Fiasco. Yes, Village Bailiff Chase Manhattan, the love of my life, and I were finally going to be married. I had a beautiful dress with a six-foot train, and a handmade lace veil. Our friends and family would be there—and so would at least a thousand strangers.

  Because Adventureland, the parent company of Renaissance Faire Village and Marketplace, saw a golden opportunity with our wedding, they’d invited another two hundred and fifty couples to take their vows at the same time.

  Those two hundred and fifty couples had family and friends. There were so many of them that the Village would be closed to the public that day.

  Adventureland had sweetened the pot for all of the people who’d planned to have their wedding that day, including me and Chase. The cake was free. The flowers were free. The venue, on the Village Green under sapphire blue Myrtle Beach skies, was also free.

  So were the television and Internet opportunities for the theme park. It was the chance of a lifetime—at least it was presented to me and Chase that way.

  “Stop whining,” Wanda said in her Americanized British accent. “You get the man. You get the wedding. What more do you want?”

  Brother Carl seemed to agree with Wanda, even though he couldn’t see or hear her. “You would be churlish not to appreciate the gift given to you, Jessie.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be churlish,” I muttered.

  I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, especially since Adventureland had also hired me to be the director of their new Renaissance Arts and Crafts Museum in the Village. They’d paid me nicely to get the museum set up.

  Working at the Village, and being with Chase, was everything I’d ever wanted. But sharing my perfect day with a thousand strangers—and the ghost of a woman I didn’t even like when she was alive—was almost too much.

  “Does Chase mind?” Carl asked. “If not, why do you?”

  I agreed with him, and excused myself. I’d had this internal debate for the last two weeks. I didn’t want to be churlish. I didn’t want to be selfish. I only wanted a simple wedding to the man I loved—and to get Wanda out of my life.

  She followed me out of the bakery, floating above the cobblestone walkway that circled the Village.

  “Why don’t you find someone else to torment,” I suggested. “I know I’m not the only one in the Village who can see you. You’ve managed to run off several knights, knaves, and ladies—not to mention scaring the crap out of your ex-husband every time you see him.”

  She smiled. It was a horrific thing. “Yes, dearie. It’s the little things in death that give me so much pleasure. Did you know that animals can almost always see me? I’ve experimented with Bo Peep’s sheep. I have great plans for the elephants and camels.”

  “I don’t suppose it would do any good to remind you that people could be hurt if you scare large animals.”

  “None whatsoever. But thanks for telling me. I have an appointment on top of the rock climbing wall with whoever would like to take tea with me. Bye-bye, Jessie.”

  Wanda hadn’t been a nice person in life. In death, she was far worse than I could have ever imagined.

  These were the only moments of respite that I’d had since Wanda died. The Village’s resident fortune teller had told me that Wanda would disappear as soon as I figured out who killed her.

  I’d checked that off my to-do list, but Wanda was still there every time I looked up. Chase couldn’t see her, though he was nice and didn’t say he thought I was imagining her.

  It was time to take action—about my fouled wedding plans, and Wanda. I straightened my backbone and lifted
my chin. Life was good.

  Lady Godiva rode her white horse past me at a fair clip. “Have you heard the news?”

  “No. What’s up?” I called back.

  “There’s been another murder—this time at the Arts and Crafts Museum.”

  Sometimes life has a way of slapping you back down.

  Chapter Two

  My assistant director was already at the museum. Manawydan ‘Manny’ Argall was a short, African-American man with close-cropped black hair and large glasses. He was always punctual. He was always knowledgeable. I wasn’t sure how I would’ve managed to open the arts and crafts museum without him.

  He dressed impeccably, even though that usually meant a Victorian costume. I’d tried explaining the different time periods to him. He either didn’t get it or he didn’t care. I wasn’t sure which. I couldn’t complain. He always looked good, and he smelled like fruit, spices, and flowers.

  Chase Manhattan, my fiancée, was beside him.

  Chase was six-foot-eight, two-hundred and fifty pounds of tan skin and taut muscle. He was the law and order in the Village. He was magistrate at Vegetable Justice, a squishy vegetable throwing form of vengeance, and kept the peace between residents and visitors alike. He’d been trained by the Myrtle Beach Police Department to be the Bailiff—a constable-type position.

  He was wearing his usual costume which included leather britches and a free-flowing, white cotton shirt under a tied, leather vest. His long brown hair was braided, and there was still a gold earring in his ear from his days as a pirate.

  Chase had performed in almost every position in the Village. He’d been a jouster, a knight, and a stable hand. He’d also been a member of the Queen’s Guard. That was part of what made him so good at his job. He always knew what to do.

  “Is it true?” I was breathless after completing the rest of the way to the museum at a brisk jog. “Someone was killed?”

  Manny solemnly nodded. “I’m afraid so, Lady Jessie. He’s at the top of the stairs. I think the poor creature was seeking help when he was struck down.”

  “Manny called me and we waited for the police.” Chase glanced at the police cars on the cobblestones. “I think he was killed by a crossbow.”

  “Why didn’t someone call me?” I admit it was a small matter, but I was the director of the museum.

  “I tried,” Manny said. “Your phone device didn’t work.”

  “I was already out here.” Chase put his arm around me. “You’ve been sleeping so badly, I thought I’d give you a few extra minutes. There was nothing you could do anyway. Detective Almond is up there looking things over.”

  “Who was it?” I whispered.

  Manny shrugged. “It was the panhandler from the street. You called him Dave, I believe.”

  “Madman Dave?” I couldn’t believe it. He worked the area around the museum, banging his pans together and entertaining visitors to the faire. “That’s awful. Who would want to kill him?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.” Manny flicked an invisible speck from his embroidered vest. “He was here at the museum door when I arrived.”

  “Not Dave!” Wanda joined us, though no one else could hear her. She cackled at the circumstances. “I’ll bet your man there killed him. They were always arguing, you know.”

  She was right. Manny had given Madman Dave a hard time since we’d started working on the museum. It bothered him to have Dave out there. He felt like it wasn’t ‘seemly’.

  Of course Manny didn’t shoot Dave with a crossbow. They’d exchanged a few heated words. It wasn’t a big deal. I hoped the police wouldn’t make it into one.

  “Any ideas about what could have happened to Dave?” Chase asked. “Have you seen anyone unusual hanging around since you started the museum, Jessie?”

  I thought about it. “No. Nothing unusual. Dave has been working this area for a while. I saw him yesterday. He was here when I left last night.”

  Manny—who always had to point out the details—cleared his throat. “I should probably say that I strenuously opposed the man sitting out here on the ground. He and I have had a few debates. I don’t understand the whole madman routine. I have threatened to take him to task for blocking the sidewalk, and pulling on ladies’ gowns as they pass.”

  Chase shook his head. “You can’t go around threatening people because you don’t like what they’re doing. Did anyone hear you threaten him?”

  “Possibly only Lady Jessie.” Manny held his head high, not a bit regretful. “I didn’t shoot the man with a crossbow, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You should have told me there was a problem.” Chase said. “That’s why I’m here, and why the Village pays for fifty security guards to be here every day with me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I intervened. “I suppose we should have said something. It didn’t seem that important.”

  “It might be now.” Chase nodded as Detective Almond beckoned to us from the concrete landing at the top of the stairs.

  “A word of advice,” Chase warned Manny. “Keep that story to yourself if you want to stay out of jail.”

  “All right.” Manny didn’t look particularly nervous. “I’ll do as you say, Sir Bailiff. Thank you.”

  Chase and I went up the stairs to talk with the police. Manny stayed behind on crowd control as visitors walked by on the cobblestones, gawking at what was going on.

  “Chase.” Detective Almond greeted him with a handshake and a smile. “How’s my favorite bailiff today?”

  “Sorry I wasn’t here, Don. Someone set one of the elephants free. The poor thing was scared to death. We have a new animal handler who was just as scared.”

  I glared at Wanda. She covered her blue mouth with one hand. “Oops!”

  She disappeared again—thankfully—though at least when I could see her, I knew what she was doing.

  “That’s okay.” Detective Don Almond was a chunky man whose chin hung heavily on his chest. He always wore his pants too tight, and had a food or drink stain on his clothes. This morning it appeared to be blueberry muffin on his white shirt.

  Chase and I both looked at the sheet-covered form of Madman Dave. Who’d want to kill him? He was a good guy, and an excellent madman.

  Detective Almond sniffed. “It could only happen here. Someone shot an arrow into the man’s heart. I think you said when I got here that you thought it was from a crossbow?”

  Chase explained about the different sizes of arrows. “A crossbow arrow is really a bolt. It’s shorter. This bolt looked like an antique to me, or something homemade.”

  The police around us were dusting everything for fingerprints. They measured the concrete landing, and squinted up at the roof—probably checking the trajectory of the bolt.

  “What was he doing here so late?” Detective Almond stared at me for answers. “Was this place open? Isn’t there a curfew or something?”

  “I don’t know why he was here,” I answered. “He usually works close to the museum, but the Village would’ve been closed. The madmen aren’t usually out after everyone goes home, at least not professionally. But he could’ve been on his way to eat or something.”

  “What time does the assistant medical examiner think he died?” Chase asked.

  “Probably around midnight.” Detective Almond watched the curious visitors go by on the cobblestones for a moment. “Looks like it was an inside job then.”

  “Inside?” I questioned.

  “A resident,” he translated. “Not a visitor.”

  It seemed odd to me that Dave was lying under that sheet, and there was very little blood on the landing around him. There wasn’t much blood on the stairs coming up there either. “Where do you think he was shot?”

  His eyebrows arched. “Why not right here?”

  “Not enough blood.” I shrugged. “Someone must have killed him elsewhere and then brought him here.

  “That’s good, Jessie.” He scratched his chin. “Better watch it, Chase. She may be after your
job.”

  “She’s good, Don.” Chase grinned and put his arm around me.

  “To put your mind at ease, we found the spot right down there by the walkway. There’s plenty of blood. The bolt didn’t kill the man right away, and he probably crawled up here looking for help.”

  It was sad to think that Dave had laid out here and died with no one to help him. “So that’s what happened?”

  “We don’t know for sure yet.” Detective Almond looked at his notes. “What about your assistant, Jessie? Manny, right? Have him come up here a minute.”

  I motioned to Manny to have him join us.

  He knew about what had been happening with Manny and Dave. We couldn’t get around it. I should have known better. Detective Almond might seem inept sometimes, but he always seemed to know what was going on.

  Manny stepped up and introduced himself. “A pleasure to meet you, Detective.”

  “I heard you’ve had a problem with Mr. Olson regarding his . . . occupation.”

  “The matter was resolved to our mutual satisfaction.”

  Detective Almond shifted his stance. “A few people overheard you threaten Mr. Olson. Is that true?”

  Manny shot me a quick glance. ‘I’m afraid that is true. I only meant it as incentive to get the brute moving.”

  “But as he said, everything turned out okay.” I tried to get past this awkward moment. Manny was dense sometimes, but he wasn’t a killer. “Dave was healthy, and walking around the last time I saw him.”

  “Which was?” Detective Almond’s pencil poised above his notebook.

  “About five p.m. when I left for the night.”

  “And you, Manny? When was the last time you saw Mr. Olson alive?”

  “About the same time.”

  It took a few more minutes of Detective Almond’s pencil scratching on the paper to write down what he wanted. “You know how to shoot a crossbow, Manny? Because I have no idea.”

  “Of course! Where I come from, we learn early how to hunt with a bow. I was very good at it!”

  How exactly was that keeping his mouth shut?