Holding Court

by K. C. Held

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet.”

  We go to the right, and Angelique leads the way up a twisted flight of stone steps.

  “Okay, this is the ground floor,” she says when we get to the top. She shines her flashlight down the passageway in front of us. “That bump in the wall is the back of the alcove in the main hallway where you found the entrance behind the suit of armor.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’m a snoop. I’m a fake psychic, remember? Being nosy is an occupational requirement.”

  Angelique starts walking slowly down the passageway with her flashlight trained on the dusty floor. We reach the bump in the wall and Angelique stops.

  I look down at the empty space where the body was the night before. “It’s not here,” I say, even though that’s patently obvious.

  Angelique gets down on her hands and knees on the stone floor.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for clues. You said there was no blood, right?”

  “Right. I’m pretty sure she’d been strangled. So, no blood. Unless it’s from my elbow. What exactly are you expecting to find?”

  “I don’t know. Do you see any scuff marks or anything that looks like someone might have dragged a body away from here?”

  “You watch way too much CSI.”

  “Oh my God! Look!” Angelique shines her flashlight on the semicircular groove in the stone floor.

  “What is it?”

  “The chain around her neck, what did it look like?”

  “Like one of those thick gold necklaces King Henry wears. The kind that goes across his chest? It was decorated with pearls and rubies or something. I’m not completely sure since it was kind of twisted and I was distracted by the dead girl whose neck it was wrapped around.”

  “Pearls?” Angelique says and pulls a pin out of her wimple.

  “Uh, yeah. What are you—”

  She sticks the pin into the crack at the base of the alcove and pries out a small white object.

  “It’s a pearl.” She holds it out to me. “We found a clue!”

  “You think it’s from the necklace she was wearing?”

  “What else would it be doing here?”

  “What are we going to do with it? Should we give it to the police?” I ask, thrilled to have possible proof that the dead girl wasn’t some sort of hallucination.

  “Yeah, and we’ll tell them my psychic powers led us to it.”

  I tuck the pearl into the pocket of my habit and help Angelique to her feet. “You don’t think they’d believe us if we told them the truth?”

  She shrugs. “We could try, but they’d probably just blow us off.”

  “Or?” I say. There’s obviously an “or” coming.

  “Or we could find the body and then they’d have to pay attention!” Angelique’s eyes go wide. “Oh, wow. Oh my gosh, Jules.”

  “What? What is it? Do you know where the body is?”

  She puts both hands on her belly. “No. I think my water just broke.”

  “What? Holy crap. What should I do?”

  She takes a step toward me, then looks down at her feet.

  “Shit, my sandals.” She sticks out one very wet foot. “I paid a hundred and fifty bucks for these things.”

  I unpin my veil and hand it to her. “Here, use this.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I haven’t been able to reach my feet for weeks.”

  I kneel down and dab at her shoes with the wadded-up veil. “I think it’s too late. They’re pretty soaked.”

  “It’s on my shift, too. Geoffrey’s going to kill me.” She takes a step back and looks down at the wet stone floor. “Shit, I contaminated the crime scene.”

  “I think we’d better get out of here. Can you make it down the stairs?”

  “Yeah,” she says, then winces. “Oh God. I think I’m having a contraction.”

  “Water stains are mightier than the sword!” I blurt as her face contorts with pain.

  “Duly noted,” she says once the contraction’s past. “And if you figure out what the hell that means, let me know. In the meantime, I think I’d better get to the hospital sooner rather than later.”

  “Let’s just go through the opening in the alcove.”

  Angelique points to her belly. “There’s no way we’ll both fit. And I don’t know about you, but I’m so not staying in here by myself.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, I should have a few minutes before the next contraction. Let’s go.”

  We head for the staircase leading to the dungeon.

  “Are you okay going down the steps?”

  “Yeah, but walk in front of me so you can break my fall.” She grins. “Just kidding, I’ll be fine.”

  We get to the bottom of the steps and make for the opening in the cabinet.

  “Dammit!” Angelique stops in the middle of the dungeon.

  “Are you having another contraction?” I ask, trying to stifle visions of her popping out a baby on the dungeon floor.

  “No, I’m pissed that I’m going to miss out on everything here. Okay, before we go back, here’s the plan: first, you need to figure out who the dead girl is. She’s got to be a Tudor Times employee. Check the staff sign-in sheet to see if anyone’s absent. That should be a good place to start. Unless you want to have one of your psychic flashes and blurt out her name?”

  “I wish. How am I going to know who’s absent or what they look like? Are there any pictures of Tudor Times employees somewhere that I could look at?”

  Angelique thinks for a minute. “Yes! Geoffrey has photos of everyone who wears a costume. He calls it his ‘bible.’ It’s his record of who wears what and how their costume is supposed to look when it’s put together properly.”

  “He didn’t take my picture.”

  “He already has one of me. You should also try talking to Floyd. He’s even nosier than I am, so he knows everything about everyone else’s business. He lives in the gatehouse at the front of the castle and has been the caretaker here forever. He’s also supposed to play King Henry’s bodyguard, but mostly he creeps around spying on people. And he’s a sucker for pretty young things, so don’t be afraid to use your feminine wiles.”

  “Ew.”

  “Do you want do find the dead girl or not?”

  “Well, yeah, and I’m flattered that you think I have wiles, but in case you haven’t noticed, I’m currently dressed as a nun.”

  “Oh, Lordy, here comes another one.” Angelique puts her hands on the small of her back and bites her lip. After a minute or so she relaxes. “Okay, that ought to be enough ideas to get you started. Let’s get out of here before I start crowning.”

  Instead of going back down the narrow hallway toward the Rose Tower, Angelique makes for a set of spiral stairs just outside the dungeon. “These will take us to the ground floor, down the hall from the Great Wardrobe. I need to get my clothes from my cubby. I’m so not going to the hospital dressed like a nun.”

  We make it to the ground floor landing and Angelique pushes open the door at the top of the stairs, then gives a yelp of surprise. I follow her through the door and find myself face to face with King Henry.

  “Sister Elizabeth, is everything all right?” King Henry asks, and I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or Angelique.

  “Sort of,” Angelique says. “I was just giving the new sister here a tour of the castle and I’m afraid my water broke.”

  “Your water? Oh. Indeed. How may I be of assistance?” Somehow King Henry manages to look both flustered and disapproving.

  “I need to get my clothes and my purse from the Great Wardrobe, and call my sister. She can take me to the— Oh, wow! Here comes another one!” Angelique grimaces and grabs my arm. “Your Majesty,” she pants, “would you mind getting my stuff out of my cubby? I need my cell phone so I can call my sister. And I think we’d better hurry.” She gives a low moan and King Henry takes off at a run for the Great Wardrobe
, his royal robes flapping behind him. Angelique straightens up and lets go of my arm. “Okay, listen. This means you’re on your own today, not just with the dead body thing, but as the Mad Maid of Kent,” she tells me.

  “Oh. Crap.”

  “Think you can handle it?”

  “Sure. No problem,” I say, but my nunly armpits are starting to feel uncomfortably clammy. At least black linen is good at disguising sweat circles.

  “Be careful, Jules.”

  “I will. You faked that last contraction, didn’t you?”

  “Yup. I’ve got my phone right here.” She pats the pocket at the front of her habit.

  “Are you worried that King Henry’s involved in all this?”

  “No, I was trying to avoid Geoffrey. He’s going to go nuts when he finds out I soiled my costume.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Keep Rocking That Fanny Pack

  King Henry returns with Angelique’s stuff, and she and I duck into one of the bathrooms where I help her back into her street clothes in between contractions.

  “I shall escort you to the rear entrance,” King Henry says when we come back out. He takes Angelique’s arm and gives me a skeptical look. “Mistress Verity, are you prepared to take over as the Maid of Kent? We shall have guests arriving momentarily.”

  “She’ll do great,” Angelique says and puts a hand to her temple. “In fact, I’m having a vision of resounding success. Pearls of wisdom shall fall from her lips.” She winks at me, and I remember the pearl in my nun pocket.

  I reach my hand in to make sure it’s still there and feel it nestled up against my lipstick stun gun. “Absolutely,” I say.

  “Tell Geoffrey I’m sorry about the costume.” Angelique nods at the bundle of soiled nun stuff under my arm.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing a little soap and water can’t fix,” King Henry says at the same time I yell, “Fie, ignore the damned spot, I say!”

  They both stare at me.

  “Was that…?” Angelique asks.

  “PTS? Yeah, sorry. Just call me Blurty McBlurterson.” I hold up Angelique’s crumpled nun costume. “I’ll take this to Geoffrey. Good luck, Angelique.”

  “Thanks. Take care of yourself, Blurty,” she says and gives me a hug.

  “Let’s get you to the hospital, Mistress Boden,” King Henry says.

  “Don’t forget the bible,” Angelique whispers, and then she and King Henry are off.

  I’m hesitating outside the door of the Great Wardrobe when I hear a voice call my name. I turn to see Bree Blair coming toward me in all her queenly glory. “Oh my God, Jules.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “Grayson told me what happened last night,” she whispers. “You must have been so freaked out.”

  “You mean having to dress like a nun? Yeah, it’s a bad habit.” I’m really hoping this conversation isn’t going where I think it’s going, because the only thing that can possibly be worse than having to talk to Bree about Grayson is having to talk to Bree about looking for a disappearing dead body with Grayson.

  “What? No. I’m talking about the body.”

  Yup, she went there. “Oh, that. Yeah, it pretty much sucked.” So much for King Henry’s orders not to tell anyone about the body.

  She lets me go but continues the whispered conversation. “Are you sure it was real? It wasn’t part of some sort of act King Henry was putting together?”

  “In a secret passageway protected by a suit of armor? I kind of doubt it.”

  “How in the world did you end up in there anyway?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Miss Blair, if you’re ready?”

  Bree gives a startled hop, and we turn to see Geoffrey standing in the doorway to the Great Wardrobe.

  “Oh, Geoffrey! You scared me, you silly!” She skips over to greet Geoffrey and they do this très French-looking thing where they kiss each other’s cheeks multiple times.

  “And how are you today, Miss Blair?” Geoffrey says as he puts a hand at the small of her back and steers her into the Great Wardrobe.

  I follow in the wake of Bree’s pristine crimson silk with my armload of soiled linen.

  “I’m great,” Bree says. “Where’s Sarah? Did she finish fixing my pearl earrings?”

  “Not yet. I have another pair you can wear for today.”

  Bree nods, then turns to me. “Geoffrey, you know Jules, right? Of course you do, she’s the new Maid of Kent. Jules and I are classmates at Lunevale High.”

  “How nice,” Geoffrey says. “Let’s get your coif on, Miss Blair.”

  “I’m getting beheaded today,” Bree tells me as Geoffrey busies himself with a complicated-looking headpiece.

  “What?”

  “It’s part of a new Six Wives performance. We’ve been rehearsing it all week.”

  “Oh. Yikes. I thought you got to just stand there and look queenly,” I say.

  “I do. And then I get my head chopped off for sleeping around behind King Henry’s back.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Truly.”

  I feel a little better knowing that at least I don’t have to get beheaded. And then I make a mental note to check the Maid of Kent dossier to see how I die.

  Bree fingers a luscious brocade fabric that’s spread out on a long table in the middle of the room. “This is gorgeous, Geoffrey. What’s it for?”

  “A new doublet for King Henry. Wait until you see the trim.”

  “Oh, I bet it’s yummy. He’s so lucky to have you, Geoffrey. You’re an absolute magician with fabric. Jules, did you know King Henry stole Geoffrey away from Hollywood? He’s even won an Oscar! Haven’t you, Geoffrey?”

  Geoffrey nods. “Yes, for Little Minks. It was my fourth nomination,” he says demurely.

  “Really? That’s amazing,” I say, looking at Geoffrey with new appreciation. “I love the dress Tibby Faye wore in the ballroom scene.”

  “Ah, yes. The blue gown. There were ten thousand Swarovski crystals on that dress. All hand-sewn,” Geoffrey says and his eyes go all misty. “And the sequins! I was shedding them for weeks afterward. Even found them in my underwear. Not sure how they got in there.”

  Bree laughs. “Were you shedding feathers, too? That peacock dress in Little Minks 2 was amazing. It must have taken forever to create,” she says.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Geoffrey responds. “I didn’t design the sequel. The director decided to hire my assistant instead.”

  “Oh, were you working on another project?” Bree asks.

  “No, I wasn’t sleeping with the director,” Geoffrey says.

  There’s an awkward silence and then Bree bursts out, “Ooh, how scandalous! And unfair! Is that why you let King Henry woo you away?”

  “King Henry is a man with seemingly unlimited funds who understands the importance of craftsmanship and historical accuracy. How could I possibly pass up such an opportunity? The garments I make for Tudor Times are not just costumes, they’re re-creations, pieces of history you can hold in your hands, wear on your body. No one else can re-create history through fabric like I do. Did you know the British Museum has asked to borrow the costume I made for King Henry based on the Whitehall Mural? The British Museum!”

  “I’m not surprised, Geoffrey. I’ve never seen costumes as beautiful as the ones here at Tudor Times,” Bree says. “We’re so lucky to get to wear them. Don’t you think so too, Jules?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to be a flawlessly garbed nun.”

  Bree laughs. “Oh, come on, Jules. You somehow manage to look fantastic no matter what you’re wearing. Me”—she gestures at her queenly ensemble—“I need the genius of someone like Geoffrey to make me look decent.”

  This is so not true it’s ridiculous. I’m still trying to think of a comeback when Geoffrey finishes fiddling with her headpiece and says, “You’re all set, Miss Blair. Your head will look quite lovely when they lop it off.”

  “I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been beheaded be
fore.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Geoffrey says. “But don’t get any fake blood on the costume or I’ll have your head for real.”

  I look down at Angelique’s sodden costume and cringe.

  “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Thanks, Geoffrey.” They do the cheek-kiss thing again. “Bye, Jules! Have fun today.” And she’s gone.

  “Is something wrong with your costume, Mistress Verity?” Geoffrey asks me, eyeing my veil-less head and the wad of black linen in my hands.

  “Sort of. Um, Angelique’s water broke and I’m afraid some of it got on her dress and I tried to use my veil to dry her shoes off and, well”—I hold out the bundle of clothes—“they’re kind of a mess.”

  Geoffrey looks at them, and I swear he gives an involuntary shiver of horror. “Put them in the laundry bin over there. I hope you didn’t use Angelique’s veil to mop the floor or something, because I don’t have another one for you to wear.”

  “Oh, yeah. It should be okay.” I sort through the bundle and pull out Angelique’s veil. “It’s a little rumpled but otherwise I think it’s fine.”

  Geoffrey takes the veil from me like he’s picking up a dirty Kleenex and doesn’t want to get snot on his hand. “It will have to do. How in the world did you manage to get the rest of your costume so filthy?” He leans down and examines the hem of my dress.

  “Oh, jeez, I’m really sorry. It must have gotten dirty when I was trying to help Angelique.” In the dungeon. Or the secret passageway. Where clearly no one has dusted for decades.

  “I can probably brush off most of the dirt, but you’ll have to wait while I press the veil.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’m really sorry about the…water thing.”

  “At least it’s not silk or it’d be ruined. And thank goodness she had the decency to take her costume off before giving birth.”

  I’m trying to figure out if he’s kidding or not when he wrinkles his nose at me and smiles.

  “Did she get to the hospital okay?”

  “She should be on her way there now. I wasn’t really expecting to have to take over as the Maid of Kent so soon.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine. I hear you’ve got the psychic part down at any rate.”