by Joyce Lavene
Fatal Fairies
By
Joyce and Jim Lavene
A Renaissance Faire Mystery
©Copyright 2015
Joyce and Jim Lavene
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Table of Contents
Fatal Fairies
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
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
About the Authors
Chapter One
“I wish Chase wasn’t Village Bailiff.”
The cries of ‘Hear Ye, Hear Ye’ were still echoing in my ears. The town crier was making sure everyone knew that a fairy named Apple Blossom had been found dead in the Good Luck Fountain on the Village Green.
It was nearly the one-year anniversary of our wedding—Chase and me. We had plans for the occasion which would now be tossed out the window so he could spend every waking moment looking for Apple Blossom’s killer.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m curious about these things too. I want to help. I love to work with him to figure it out.
But on our wedding anniversary? Seriously?
“Terrible news about the fairy, wasn’t it?” Manawydan Argall was my assistant at the Art and Craft Museum. I called him Manny because it was too hot for such a big name. “I hope Chase can find the killer quickly.”
“If they wouldn’t have been here, it wouldn’t have happened.”
This was the first ‘official’ Fairy Week at Renaissance Faire Village and Marketplace—my home.
There were thousands of fairies from the East Coast Fairy Guild. We had hundreds of flirty fairies that lived and visited here every day, wearing barely their underwear and wings.
Thousands of them were way too many. But the Village liked large numbers and they made those decisions, not me.
It might have been selfish, but as I stood in the hot August sun that day wearing twenty pounds of clothing while fairies pranced by with their little crowns and magic wands, I wished that Chase wasn’t going to have to look for Apple Blossom’s killer.
If that was evil, so be it. I was ready for the consequences.
“That’s harsh, even for you,” Manny said. “And it’s bad press for the Village.”
“I know.” I adjusted a few pairs of delicate fairy wings that were hanging in the museum this week. I really felt bad about hating the fairies and about Apple Blossom dying in the fountain.
“I’m sorry.” Manny kept his black hair neatly trimmed and wore large glasses. He was short, barely five feet, and always wore dapper Victorian suits with vests, rather than the normal Renaissance garb.
He was recently out of college with a degree in the Arts. His parents were the king and queen of a small but wealthy African nation. He was my right hand man at the museum, knowing what I wanted almost before I did. I’d come to depend on him, and he’d never let me down.
“It’s okay.” I sighed. “Going to Europe for a week with Chase probably wasn’t a good idea anyway. And what’s a first wedding anniversary? I don’t think it even has a theme—gold, silver, ruby, crystal. It’s not a big deal.”
To make matters worse, I was worried about Chase too. He’d been helping his brother and father out of a jam. I guess it wasn’t enough that his father had to go to prison for insider trading.
Now his father and his brother, Morgan Stanley Manhattan, had created some kind of Ponzi scheme back in Arizona. It had gone sour, and they’d turned to Chase for help. He’d flown out there several times and spent all his time on the laptop trying to dig them out of the hole they were in.
The result? Chase was grumpy and unhappy most of the time. I tried to stay out of it. I had my own problems with my brother, Tony. He wanted to get married again. How could I tell Chase not to help his family when I had to be there for mine?
“Actually, it does have a significator. It’s paper.” Manny grinned, his perfect teeth very white in his dark face. “Maybe you’ll still have a few days to go away for your anniversary. We should help him.”
I sank down on one of the benches along the museum wall as a dozen crying fairies came in out of the sun. They were mourning their dead friend who seemed to have been murdered in broad daylight with thousands of people standing around but no one had even noticed until a few hours later.
She’d been found face up in the fountain. Chase said she’d been strangled. Someone had been incredibly daring to have done such a thing.
“You know, I just don’t have it in me to help him investigate this time, Manny.”
“Is it because she’s a fairy and you don’t like fairies?”
“No. Not just that. It’s a little of everything.” Naturally I couldn’t tell him about Chase’s father and brother being stupid, greedy pigs who might still go to prison. Or my fears that they might take Chase with them. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
He stared at me and finally put his hand on my forehead. “You must be ill. For Jessie Morton-Manhattan to ignore a murder in the Village there is something very wrong.”
“You could say that.” I lowered my voice. “But not too loudly, please.”
Looking around at my carefully crafted museum decor made my head hurt. Where I would normally have had Renaissance art and craftsmen creating beautiful works of wood, stone, or fabric for my visitors, I now had plastic fairy crowns, polyester wings, and other fairy paraphernalia.
King Harold and Queen Olivia of Ren Faire Village—along with a handful of marketing gurus—had decided a few months ago that I should stock tons of cheap fairy ware in the museum. That way if any of the fairies didn’t come properly equipped with wands or wings, they could buy them from me.
It was a terrible idea. It had made the museum a big gift shop. But I got a pat on the head and was told to do my part for the Village. I knew it wasn’t really my museum, though I liked to think of it that way. I was the director, employed by the Village and the parent company, theme park giant, Adventure Land.
But I had a plan which might still save me from what felt like a tidal wave.
My ace in the hole came through the door. Canyon Britt was the answer to my prayers. He was big—six-foot-four, large, muscular chest, and shoulders made for armor. He was good on a horse and had jousted several times during his college career at the Village. Canyon was also charismatic and handsome. His blond hair was bleached by the hot South Carolina sun, and his blue eyes twinkled. He was every inch the epitome of a surfer dude turned knight.
“Lady Jessie.” He bowed elegantly, his red cloak sliding over one shoulder. “I have been s
earching for the Bailiff. Have you seen him? I am keeping the crime scene open for him. I’m sure he’ll want to take a look.”
“Don’t worry about him,” I told Canyon. “I’m sure Detective Almond is here already. You’re Chase’s assistant. Take charge of the investigation for the Village.”
He bowed again. “My lady? I am not the Bailiff.”
“Just pretend you are,” I told him. “You work with the Bailiff. Chase can’t be everywhere. Find out what you can and report back to him later.”
“Of course, Lady Jessie. I swear it will be done!”
Manny’s dark eyes were unhappy after Canyon left. “Chase isn’t going to like this.”
He didn’t realize that I’d convinced the new personnel director to hire a second-in-command for Chase.
My brilliant scheme included having Canyon take over as Village Bailiff or law keeper while we were on our European second honeymoon as well as helping him the rest of the year. I hadn’t even known about Apple Blossom’s death at the time, but it made sense to me.
Being Village Bailiff was a more than a one-man, full-time position. Chase needed someone to take his place occasionally when he was on the other side of the Village and someone jumped in the fountain and refused to get out. Or a camel got loose. Or there was a visitor problem at one of the eating establishments. Or someone was stuck at the top of the climbing wall.
There were hundreds of incidents every day. Add that up to the Village being open seven days a week, every day except Christmas and Thanksgiving, and you get the picture.
There wasn’t always a murder investigation. Renaissance Faire Village was mostly a quiet, peaceful place. But when something big happened, it added to Chase’s normal responsibilities and became completely insane.
“Really?” Manny questioned. “You think Chase will want Canyon to take over a murder investigation? I find that doubtful.”
“That’s his job. He’s supposed to do things the Bailiff would normally do,” I explained. “There’s no point in him being here if he doesn’t decrease Chase’s workload.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “You know, Jessie, you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well. Maybe you should go home and grab a nap. I’ll keep an eye on the museum. I’m sure you’ll be ready to solve Apple Blossom’s murder when you get up.”
“Thanks.” I got to my feet, towering over him at my height of six feet. “I’m going to take you up on that. I might even grab some ginger cookies and tea from Mrs. Potts’s shop. That’s how convinced I am that this is all going to work out.”
I walked down the cobblestones to the Dungeon where Chase and I lived. We had the upstairs apartment. The fake jail cells were on the ground floor where the plastic prisoners were kept. They cried and begged for mercy when the front door opened—courtesy of the special effects.
It could be very unnerving to get up during the night and hear them.
Of course everyone was talking about the dead fairy. Phil Ferguson from the Sword Spotte was standing with Fred the Red Dragon, lamenting that someone had died in the Village.
Phil was the only sword-maker that Chase would buy his swords from. I preferred Daisy Reynolds at Swords and Such. Both of their work was fine, but I liked Daisy better.
“I hope Chase can find the killer,” Fred said from inside his red dragon costume. “It makes me nervous when someone dies here.”
“I agree.” Little Bo Peep tried to pass us, desperate to keep up with her sheep. “I was just near the fountain and didn’t see Chase anywhere. Who is that new man, Jessie? Is he taking Chase’s place?”
“Is someone taking the Bailiff’s job?” Paul Samuels rubbed his hand over his balding head before replacing his green cap. He was the owner of the bookstore, Rare Reads, and had also started a Village newspaper. “I should be privy to this information, if so.”
Fred nudged Phil with his elbow. “He said he should be a privy.”
Phil rubbed his belly where the big dragon elbow had bumped him. “Go read a book, Fred. There’s more than one kind of privy.”
“Chase doesn’t have to take care of everything in the Village,” I said. “Why don’t you try herding the elephants, breaking up fights at the Monastery Bakery, and then solving murders on the side? He’s only human, you know.”
They all stepped back to let me go by. I figured they knew not to mess with me about this. Everyone knew how I felt about Chase—and fairies.
I hurried past the other shops on my way home. On the Dutchman’s Stage several loud singers were performing humorous skits. I got by the Pleasant Pheasant without anyone else bothering me and ignored the swaggering pirates on their way back to the Queen’s Revenge. Their ship was anchored in Mirror Lake near the castle.
King Harold had sent a page to fetch Chase. The teenager was waiting at the door. I re-directed him to find Canyon at the Good Luck Fountain where the fairy had died. The young man thanked me graciously with a bow and the removal of his huge feathered hat.
There were several visitors in the Dungeon looking at the tortured plastic figures. I ignored them and went quickly up the stairs to our apartment, locking the door behind me and taking a deep breath.
So far, so good. Now I just had to wait for Chase’s reaction to what I had set in motion.
* * *
I woke up after a pleasant dream where Chase and I were swimming naked in warm, blue water off the coast of Greece.
Not wanting to leave that wonderful place quickly, I closed my eyes and drifted in and out. This was definitely better than dealing with a fairy convention and a murder in the Village.
“Hey, beautiful,” a voice whispered near my ear. “Just stay right here. I’ve got some free time.”
I smiled as I rolled over from the middle of the bed. Already my strategy to help my wonderful husband was working. He was so relaxed that he didn’t even sound like himself.
He climbed into bed beside me. “I wasn’t expecting you for lunch today.”
I put my arms around him. Something wasn’t right. Chase was bigger—bulkier.
My bed partner licked my ear.
I opened my eyes and gasped. “You’re not Chase!”
Canyon grinned. “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have you here if I was.”
It only took a moment to grab the blanket and get out of bed. As soon as I was on my feet with my eyes wide open, I knew something was very, very wrong.
Chapter Two
“What are you doing here? Where’s Chase?”
Canyon rolled over and smiled lazily at me. “I’m here because this is the Dungeon where the Village Bailiff lives. You’re here because you’re my wonderful, sexy lady. Are you talking about Chase Manhattan, that glory-seeking jouster? Maybe he’s with the queen. You never know with him.”
“What?” It was the only intelligible word I could get out of my mouth. “Chase is the Village Bailiff. He has been since Roger Trent retired.”
It was a joke—a prank. We all loved pranks at the Village. I’d done many of them myself. Some of them were quite good. This one wasn’t.
“Okay. I get it. It’s a prank, right?” I laughed. “This is a big, stupid prank. Now get out of my bed and find Chase.”
“Quit talking about Manhattan, Jessie, and get back in bed. I’ve only got a few minutes before that stupid Detective Almond gets to the Village to investigate the fairy murder.” He smiled and put his hands above his head. “Plenty of time for the good stuff, my fine lady.”
I started to say ‘what’ again and stopped myself. I couldn’t keep repeating that word. It wasn’t doing any good. None of this made any sense, except for the prank angle. I stuck to my first impression.
“Canyon, Chase will kick your butt if he finds you here. I know you think you’re tough, but Chase has a lot of experience dealing with bad pranks and employees who forget who they are.”
He finally sat up and stared hard at me. “Is something wrong with you? I heard you left your apprenticeship at Rare Reads early
today. You look pale. You’re not sick, are you?”
I watched him as he ran into the bathroom to gargle and spray himself with Lysol. Canyon was terrified of getting sick. I’d kept that fact to myself when I advised the new director to hire him. How often would it come up when he was policing the Village?
That’s when I really looked around myself. This was totally a prank. It had to be, and yet the best prank in the world couldn’t make the Dungeon apartment look as it had before Chase and I were married.
A wandering sorcerer had magically made the apartment larger on the inside. It still looked exactly the same on the outside. It was difficult to explain. You had to see it.
When I’d moved in with Chase, years before we were married, the apartment had consisted of a single room that was a bedroom, tiny kitchen, and bathroom all rolled into one. It was all the two of us could do not to bump into one another as we walked around it.
When I’d come home from the museum that day, I’d come home to the large version of the apartment. Now it had gone back to being the small one again. I’d accomplished some pretty awesome pranks in my day, but this wasn’t possible. No prank could make this happen—unless it was a magic prank.
Magic had come to Renaissance Faire Village last year at about the same time that Chase and I got married. It had changed everything for those of us who lived here as well as for those who visited. No one could ever be certain what they would see or experience. It had started with a ghost but had escalated to a witch and a sorcerer—and maybe a man who made magic shoes.
Could this prank be the work of one of the magic users that now called the Village their home? Or was it the sorcerer who had visited us and changed it in the first place? Maybe he’d returned.
Canyon pulled on his clothes and shoved his feet into thick sandals. He pushed his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes and kept his distance.
“You should pay a visit to the first aid station, Jessie” he suggested. “Wanda should be able to tell if you’re sick.”
“Wanda? Blue ghost Wanda?” I laughed, but I was beginning to panic. “I don’t think there’s anything she can do for me. I’m sorry. You might not be able to see her. Not everyone can.”
