Ryan looked at her with surprise and renewed respect. “You’ve tangled with a wild bobcat?”
She grinned and shrugged. “Well, two-footed ones. And I’ve seen wild bobcats. Granny Reid’s bloodhound, Colonel Beauregard, tangled with one and lost, big time.”
Her narrative was cut short by the sound of horse hooves, clip-clopping over the wooden drawbridge. A rider on a black horse burst through the gate. His long purple robe billowed behind him as he rode toward them. On his head sat a pointed hat that sparkled with silver moons and stars.
“Oh, Lord help us,” Savannah muttered. “Don’t tell me that’s supposed to be Merlin.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Ryan said. “I tried to get Alex to at least ditch the hat, but…”
As the rider drew closer, Savannah saw that his arm was raised to shoulder level in front of him, and he, too, wore a leather gauntlet. On his forearm sat an exquisite bird with feathers of silver, black, and white. The animal had a leather hood over its head and was tethered to the man’s gauntlet by a long strip of leather.
The “wizard” pulled up short in front of them, raising a small cloud of dust that added a bit of dramatic flair to his entrance. Savannah had to admit that, in spite of the dorky hat, the character had a certain panache.
And the falcon was so regal in its bearing, sitting there on the man’s arm, looking both elegant and dangerous, that Savannah instantly regretted her comparisons to pigeons.
“Hear ye, hear ye!” shouted Wannabe Merlin. “All maidens who would contest for the affections of his lordship, draw hither.”
“That’s your cue,” Ryan said, nudging her. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Savannah replied as she left his side and walked over with the other women to stand in a semicircle in front of the horse. The closer she got to the rider and his falcon, the more nervous she felt. The bird looked as big as an eagle, although a calmer voice of reason inside her head whispered that it wasn’t much larger than the pigeon that had tormented her. And standing nearer to the bird, she could see the sharp beak and deadly talons, the tools of a raptor that would seize, shred, and devour its prey alive.
Savannah glanced right and left at the other contestants, and she could see her own apprehension mirrored on their faces.
All except for Carisa, who was wearing a cocky little grin that Savannah recognized. It was the smirk of somebody who was up to no good. As the oldest of nine siblings, Savannah knew the look well and decided to keep an eye on Miss Carisa.
“The contest will be thus…” Merlin was proclaiming in a loud voice. “Each lady will stand in her appointed position and extend her arm, like so. I shall release his lordship’s royal falcon, and the bird will choose which lady shall win the prize.”
“What’s the prize?” Leila asked. “Jewelry? A car?”
“Yeah, what are we playing for?” Roxy wanted to know.
Savannah saw Alex wince as he watched off to their left, out of camera shot. He had told them to use as much old English as possible when speaking, and she was pretty sure that “Yeah” and references to automobiles weren’t what he wanted from his contestant-actresses. She was equally sure that if he resisted providing them with anything beyond bread and water for breakfast, he wasn’t going to be handing out a new Lexus.
“The prize,” Merlin said, his theatrical voice booming across the courtyard, “is a romantic afternoon, an enchanting, fantasy date with his lordship, in a boat on yon lagoon.”
“Lagoon?” Brandy said, looking around, confused. “What lagoon?”
“I think he means the goldfish pond out front,” Savannah told her. “The moat thing.”
“I don’t care where it is,” Carisa said. “It’s a date with Lance.”
“True, true,” the rest agreed, nodding, recalling their mission.
“So,” Merlin continued, raising his arm a notch, “take your positions, and may the best lady be chosen.”
From her appointed spot, a balcony overlooking the courtyard, Savannah watched the other contestants take their places. Brandy was perched on an outer-wall turret; Leila on the roof of the stable; Carisa on a balcony similar to Savannah’s, directly behind her; and Roxy was stationed near the hawk house, which Savannah feared might give her an unfair advantage.
Now that she knew about Roxy’s little liaison with Alex, Savannah was suspicious of her on a number of levels.
If they had murdered Tess, Savannah might forgive them eventually…after they had served a couple of life terms in prison. But if they fixed the contest, she would hang, draw, and quarter them. Plain and simple.
Not that she wanted the bird to come to her. If there was a way to win other than having that creature land on her arm she would have felt more competitive. But the thought of those talons, that beak, the flapping wings—the pigeon in Grandpa Reid’s barn—all served to take the edge off her appetite to win.
But then, there was the thought of spending the afternoon with Lance on a boat in a moat. The memory of his lips on hers, the warm press of his body, his fingers brushing her hair from her face. Just recalling it made her sigh from her head to her toes.
If you spend the whole afternoon in a boat making out with him, you won’t get a lick of investigating done. And you’ve got a homicide to solve, girl.
What? Where did that come from?
The contradictory thoughts collided in her brain like a Ventura Freeway rush-hour pile-up.
Lance. Murder. Lance. Blue eyes. Muscles. Gotta catch the bad guy.
When “catching the killer” came out on top, she had to shake her head and wonder. What’s the matter with you, Savannah?
But below in the courtyard, Merlin was untying the falcon and removing its hood. “Ladies, prepare!” he shouted. She and the others raised their gauntlet-protected arms and held them perpendicular to their bodies and out to their sides as they had been shown.
We’ll discuss this later, she told herself.
Merlin lifted his arm. The bird flapped its wings, left the falconer’s gauntlet, and headed straight for Savannah.
In spite of her former misgivings, Savannah felt the thrill of victory as the bird sailed toward her. It wasn’t noisy and clumsy like the pigeon she remembered so well. This animal soared silently, effortlessly, like a disembodied spirit from an ethereal plane. On wings of silver and black that glistened in the sun, it flew and flew and—
Flew right past her.
A big wave of “agony of defeat” slopped over her, as she watched the falcon pass her by and land on Carisa’s arm. For a moment the bird seemed to be biting at the other woman’s hand, tugging at her glove with its beak.
Then Merlin whistled, reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a piece of meat. When he held it up, the falcon wasted no time returning to his master’s arm.
“I won!” Carisa shouted, jumping up and down on her balcony. “It came to me! It came to me! I won the afternoon with Lance.”
“Now, now, boys and girls, we have to be gracious when we win,” Savannah grumbled. “She must have been absent the day they taught that in kindergarten.”
“Hey, Savannah,” she shouted, “I’ll bet you thought it was coming to you, didn’t you! Ha, ha! But it came to me!”
Savannah tossed her head and lifted her chin a notch. “Yeah, well, don’t bust your corset laces there, girlie. The game ain’t over yet.”
With Alex and the two-man crew busy at the lake with Carisa and Lance, Savannah and the other contestants had the afternoon to themselves to commiserate and bemoan the falcon’s choice.
“She looks more like a rat than any of the rest of us,” Leila said as they all sat on stools around the kitchen island, nibbling on the lunch leftovers. “That’s why the hawk went to her.”
“Aw, she was just lucky,” Brandy replied. “It had to go to somebody and it chose her.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Savannah was standing with her head inside the refrigerator, looking for anything that might have a b
it of chocolate in it. Mary had delivered a decent lunch of salads and sandwiches, but she needed at least a token dessert—like a simple slice of triple-layer fudge cake, with a big dollop of French vanilla ice cream or whipped cream to go on top. “Carisa cheated,” she told them, “plain and simple.”
The other girls gasped.
“Cheated!” Brandy exclaimed.
“What do you mean, cheated?” Leila wanted to know.
Roxy jumped off her stool. “No way! I couldn’t think of any way to…I mean…how did she cheat?”
Savannah reached into the refrigerator and pulled out one of the steaks she had seen earlier when preparing their late-night meal. It had been wrapped tightly in cellophane, which was now hanging loosely around it. A corner of the steak had been sawed off.
Tossing the meat onto the island in front of them, she said, “I thought I saw the falcon take something out of her hand when it landed on her arm. So I checked her gauntlet after the contest. It smelled like raw meat. And that steak there was whole earlier.”
“Oh my!” Brandy exclaimed, shaking her head. “That just wasn’t even fair!”
“That rotten bitch.” Roxy shook her head in disgust. “I wish I’d thought of that. You wait until she gets back. I’ll give her a piece of my mind!”
Brandy turned to Mary, who had been sitting at the end of the island, quietly studying a long to-do list. “Mary, can she do that? Are you guys going to let her get away with cheating?”
Mary shrugged. “All’s fair in love and war, right?”
“You mean we can cheat?” Leila nearly dropped her sandwich. “Why didn’t you tell us that?”
Mary gave them a mischievous grin. “Hey, it’s every lady for herself here. If you want Lance, you have to be willing to fight for him.”
Savannah couldn’t help noticing a nasty little look that played across Leila’s face. It was brief, but evil enough to send a little chill down her back. Yes, she’d definitely watch out for Miss Leila.
“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?” she asked Mary. “Another make-believe banquet with make-believe food?”
“Sorry about that,” Mary said, looking genuinely embarrassed. “I tried to tell Alex and Tess before that you women would want real food at these dinners. But Tess said it would cause you to bloat and you wouldn’t look as good in your costumes, and Alex said you’d be too nervous to actually eat anyway.”
“Too nervous to eat?” Savannah shook her head. “That’ll be the day you bury this ol’ girl.”
“And there’s no way anybody could bloat in those corsets,” Brandy said. “Your head might explode, but—”
“That’s for sure,” the rest agreed.
“Okay, okay.” Mary jotted something on her list. “I’ll tell Alex to put out at least a platter of fruit along with the fake stuff. And we’ll set up a craft table off camera like we discussed earlier.”
“Make sure you’ve got some pastries on that table,” Savannah said. “And maybe a big platter of fried chicken.”
Mary stood and picked up her notepad and pen. “I’ll get on it right away. And you girls spend plenty of time primping before the banquet. I’ll send Kit up to you for last minute touch-ups on your hair and make-up. You’ll want to look good…what with Lance having to make his decision tonight.”
“His decision?” Roxy choked on her apple.
“Yes. Tonight’s the first cut. One of you has to go home.”
A heavy silence lay on the room as they watched Mary leave. The women looked at one another with varying degrees of suspicion and dislike.
Finally, Brandy said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s enough to kill my appetite for food tonight.”
“Mine, too,” Roxy replied.
“Yeah, for sure,” added Leila.
Savannah nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it definitely might take the edge off a body’s appetite.” She turned back to the refrigerator. All the more reason to find that big piece of chocolate cake now…just in case.
But before she could find it, or anything else that could be classified as calorie-dense and triglyceride-ridden, Dirk walked into the kitchen. She noted that his presence caused an instant hush of the female chatter in the room. All the ladies seated at the island gave him wary looks, which he ignored.
Dirk was accustomed to being greeted with little or no enthusiasm when he entered a room.
“You busy?” he asked Savannah. Before she had time to reply, he added, “The bimbo’s here, and she says she’s got something that….”
He glanced over toward the threesome at the island and seemed to think better of finishing his statement.
Knowing that “the bimbo” meant Tammy, Savannah quickly forgot all about food. She slammed the refrigerator closed. “I’m all yours,” she said.
He winced slightly at her words, and again she saw a flicker of hurt cross his eyes.
Somewhere deep inside she felt it…either a heartstring twang or maybe just a guilt chain getting yanked. She’d always had trouble distinguishing one from the other when it came to those she loved.
And she did love Dirk. She had decided long ago that it was possible to love someone and still entertain grisly, homicidal thoughts about them on a daily—sometimes hourly—basis.
“Let’s go,” she said, heading for the door. “See you gals later. Better get a beauty nap this afternoon. One of us is going to be sent packing tonight, and it ain’t gonna be the Georgia peach!”
“What was that all about?” Dirk asked as they left the kitchen and headed down the hallway.
Savannah grinned. “That, darlin’, was me psyching out the competition.”
“Do you mean to tell me you actually intend to win this stupid contest?”
“I’m going to catch Tess’s killer, get paid for doing it, and win that diamond tiara. You just wait and see.”
Dirk stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her, a scowl on his face. “You want a romance with that longhaired pansy?”
“Naw. I just want the crown and the paycheck,” she said. “Lance isn’t my type. Far too muscular. Those bulging biceps, the well-defined pecs—way over the top for my taste.”
Dirk’s scowl melted into a grin. “Oh, good.”
They continued down the hall, and Dirk’s step was considerably lighter.
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “I can see where all those muscles would be a real turn-off for a woman.”
Savannah turned away so that he couldn’t see her smile, and she bit her lower lip. Finally, the urge to giggle passed and she was able to say with all seriousness, “Oh, yeah. A real turn-off for most normal women like myself.”
Dirk grunted his approval.
She had to add just one more little jab. Just one. “Sorta like those porn stars with the outrageously big boobs,” she said, “a real turn-off for most normal guys…”
She stole a quick sideways glance at Dirk.
He was staring straight ahead. And the look on his face could only be described as a definite return to “cranky.”
Chapter
8
“Where is Tammy?” Savannah asked as she and Dirk exited the dining hall through the front door and made their way across the courtyard.
“She’s with Ryan and John in their apartment in the gatehouse.”
“What’s she got?”
“She wouldn’t spill it. Said she would only tell you or the whole Moonlight Magnolia gang—her words, not mine. That kid can be a brat sometimes.”
Savannah chuckled. She was accustomed to hearing similar comments from “the brat” about “Dirko.” To hear Tammy and Dirk talk about each other, she might have thought they hated one another. But having been raised in a family of nine children, she recognized the dynamics of sibling rivalry when she saw it.
When they entered the modest, two-room apartment that had been billed as the “gatekeeper’s quarters,” they found Tammy, John, and Ryan sitting in the humble accommodations on cushions that functioned
as chairs and a sofa.
At first glance, Savannah thought the cushions were covered with silk, but as she sat on one, she realized the fabric was only a cheap taffeta. The longer she stayed at Blackmoor Castle, the more she realized that no expense had been spent when decorating it. The place definitely suffered only the delusion of grandeur.
A low wooden table provided the “other” furniture in the main living area, but Ryan and John had spread a white linen cloth over the rough-hewn top and on that sat an elegant silver tea service. She recognized it instantly as their own, which they must have brought from home.
“Good afternoon, love,” John greeted her. “We thought you might enjoy a spot of tea and a biscuit after your grueling morning.”
Savannah knew better than to get her hopes up at the mention of biscuits. While tasty, what John was offering had little to do with the delicious, fluffy, white goodies that Granny Reid had turned out by the panful every morning of Savannah’s childhood.
When John said biscuits, he meant cookies. He was British; he couldn’t help himself. Savannah loved him anyway.
He passed her the delicate china plate covered with dainty, chocolate-coated wafers. So what if they weren’t hot out of the oven, the kind you had with butter and sorghum molasses? Food was food to a starving woman, and with the way things were done around here at Blackmoor Castle, only the good Lord above knew when she would eat again.
“Good to see you, kiddo,” she told Tammy. “What have you got for us?”
“I went to see Dr. Liu, like you said,” she replied.
“You talked to the doc?” Dirk wanted to know. “I called her four times already today, and she wouldn’t even pick up the phone.”
“Gee, wonder why?” Savannah grinned. “Reckon you might have made a nuisance of yourself?”
Dirk gave her question half a second’s serious thought, then shook his head. “Nope, couldn’t be that. Between you and me, I’m beginning to think she just doesn’t like men. And I’m starting to think maybe she plays on the other team.” He gave an off-handed wave toward Ryan and John. “You know, the team you guys are on. Follow me?”
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