Holding Court

by K. C. Held

  High up on the wall opposite the trapdoor, a beautifully tiled diving platform juts over the rectangular pool. I make my way up one of the curving staircases leading to the top of the platform, where I find a set of doors carved with more naked mermaids and assorted sea creatures. I grasp both handles and pull. They’re locked. I kick them, slam them with my shoulder, curse them, but they don’t budge. My exit options are limited to jumping off the platform into the pool or going back down the stairs. I choose the stairs.

  Down at pool level again, I head for the decorative alcove tucked beneath the diving platform. It features a carved marble statue of a naked woman standing on a huge shell.

  “It would be really helpful if you had an ax in your hand,” I tell her. I’m examining the wall behind her in case she’s conveniently hiding another secret entrance when I hear a noise on the platform above me. Someone is unlocking the doors.

  The sound of one of the doors scraping open is followed by the thud of footsteps. I flatten myself against the wall. If it’s Geoffrey coming back for me, I at least want the element of surprise.

  There’s silence above me. Then I hear the owner of the footsteps making a tutting sound and I know it’s definitely Geoffrey.

  “Now, now, Mistress Verity. Let’s not play games. You’re not in the pool with Sarah, so I know you’re here somewhere. There’s no other way out.”

  Shit. I would kill for that ax right about now.

  “I came down to collect a few things from Sarah’s backpack to plant in your van.” He starts down the stairs to my right, the sound of his footsteps reverberating off the tile walls. “And instead I find you inconveniently alive.” He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs now.

  I’m tucked behind the statue, praying he can’t hear the sound of my heart slamming against my ribs.

  He turns slowly and smiles at me. “There you are.” His wickedly sharp-looking scissors are in his right hand, and he’s wearing one of the dining room smocks over his costume.

  I touch the place on my neck where he cut me earlier and wince at the pain.

  “I should have known your drowning scene was overly theatrical. You’ve obviously never watched someone drown. Contrary to popular belief, there’s no dramatic splashing or screaming for help. They simply sink below the surface and fail to return. At least that’s how it happened with my former assistant on Little Minks. She was at a party at the director’s house and for some reason she decided to jump into the pool even though she couldn’t swim. Unfortunately, no one was there to save her.”

  I shiver involuntarily. Sarah wasn’t the first person Geoffrey murdered. But I’m really hoping Floyd will be the last.

  He cocks his head to the side. “You’re the one who tipped me off to what Sarah was doing, you know.”

  “Me? I didn’t even know her.”

  “It was your comment about cabbage that inspired me to follow her on the night she died.”

  “Cabbage?” While Geoffrey is doing his looney-tunes routine I’m desperately looking for a way to escape. If I lunge for the other set of stairs I might be able to make it.

  “Yes, you said, ‘The cabbage is only the beginning,’ and you were right.” Geoffrey is waving the scissors around as he talks. “Tudor tailors called scraps of cloth ‘cabbage.’ Sarah started out by stealing pieces of fabric and trim to use in her online shop and worked her way up to King Henry’s jewels. I caught her in the act and strangled her with one of the necklaces she defaced. You, however, are proving particularly difficult to dispose of, Mistress Verity. If you’d had the decency to die, or at least end up in the hospital when I ran you off the road, I wouldn’t have had to kill Floyd, you know.”

  If there was any doubt before, I am now certain that Geoffrey is completely gaga. “So it’s my fault Floyd’s dead?”

  “To be fair, I would say it’s Floyd’s fault, but you certainly contributed. Now why don’t you come over here and we’ll deal with this once and for all?”

  “It’s too late,” I say.

  “Pardon?” He takes a step toward me.

  I pull out Sarah’s phone and hold it up. “I called the police. You left Sarah’s phone down here, Geoffrey. I called 911 and told them where I am and what you did. They’ll be here any second.”

  He laughs. “I hardly think so, Mistress Verity. When I brought Sarah’s things down I discovered there’s no service in this room. I had to take her phone upstairs to send myself a text from her.”

  Shit. I throw the phone at him and make a break for the stairs. I slip on the wet tile and fall to my knees.

  Geoffrey hauls me up and puts me in a chokehold with the point of the scissors pressed against my back. “I don’t want to have to get bloodstains out of another jacket, so I’d prefer to strangle you. But if you try to get away again, I will use these.”

  I feel the scissors pierce through the fabric of my shirt and into my skin, and I cry out in pain.

  “That’s enough, Geoffrey,” a voice bellows from above.

  Geoffrey drags me backward and I look up to see Hank standing on the platform at the top of the stairs. I’m filled with equal parts awe and immense relief, seeing him looming above us looking like a fiery-haired avenging angel.

  “Your Majesty, what are you doing here?” Geoffrey sounds like a little kid who’s been caught misbehaving.

  “Let her go, Geoffrey.”

  “I can’t do that, Your Majesty.” Geoffrey tightens the arm around my neck and points the scissors at Hank.

  “Put down the scissors. You don’t want to fight me.”

  “Your Majesty, you don’t understand.” He’s gesticulating with the scissors as he speaks, and I try to shake some of the water off my hands so I can make a grab for them, but his agitated movements are making it difficult to keep my balance.

  “I believe I do, Geoffrey. You killed Sarah and Floyd, and you intended to kill Mistress Verity as well.”

  “I didn’t mean to kill Sarah. But she made a mockery of us both and I lost my temper. Surely you can understand that, Your Majesty?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. I need you to come with me now or I will be forced to do something unpleasant.” King Henry draws his sword.

  Geoffrey moans and points the scissors at my neck.

  In the silence that follows I hear the soft patter of water droplets falling from my sodden clothes onto the tile floor, then the rustling of silk as Hank takes a step toward the stairs. Inside my panicked brain, a memory flutters its wings.

  I look up at Hank. “King Henry?”

  “Yes, Mistress Verity? Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been better. But listen, are you wearing your Whitehall outfit? The one that’s supposed to go to the British Museum?”

  Hank looks down at the jewel-studded doublet he’s wearing. “Indeed, I am.”

  “I bet it’s made from some of that really expensive silk fabric, right, Geoffrey?”

  “Of course it is. Only the best for His Majesty.”

  “Water stains are mightier than the sword!” I call up to Hank, hoping he gets it.

  Hank drops his sword with a deafening clang and starts unbuttoning his doublet.

  “What are you doing? Why are you taking that off?” Geoffrey demands.

  “Let her go.” Hank releases the final button. “Or the doublet goes in the water.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.” Geoffrey’s arm tightens around my neck. “That doublet represents the finest work I’ve ever done.”

  “I know it does, Geoffrey.” Hanks slips the doublet off and steps forward.

  “It’s been promised to the British Museum. No, Your Majesty! The water will ruin the silk. Stop, please!”

  Geoffrey is squeezing my neck so tightly I can’t breathe. Black spots appear at edges of my vision.

  Hank throws the doublet.

  Geoffrey screams, drops his scissors, and dives after the falling doublet.

  I grab the scissors and sprint for the stairs. When I get to the
top, I join Hank at the edge of the platform. We look down at the pool where Geoffrey is clutching the sodden doublet and sobbing as he flounders in the water.

  “Do you think he can swim?” Hank asks.

  “I think so,” I say. “Sorry about the doublet.”

  “That is the least of my concerns, Mistress Verity.”

  I turn away from the pool and its ruined inhabitants. “How’d you know where to find me?”

  “Mr. Chandler came to me and told me you were missing. We were scouring the castle for you when I remembered your banquet performance. ‘Mermaids blush when clothes unmake the man.’” He points at the ceiling. “As far as I know, this room contains the only mermaids in Lunewood Castle.”

  “Seriously? Wow.”

  “I believe your butterflies are in effect, Mistress Verity.” He looks down at Geoffrey, still sobbing in the pool. “I fear your second prophecy will also prove to be true: ‘No amount of bathing will ever make him clean.’”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Just to be Clear

  Hank stays in the bathhouse to guard Geoffrey while I run upstairs to find the police. On the way back down I explain to Officer Kilbride about Sarah and Floyd and even Geoffrey’s former assistant on Little Minks.

  “How did Mr. Bacon know where to find you?” he asks.

  “He figured out one of my prophecies.”

  “I see. So you do have a gift after all?”

  “Yeah. I still don’t really understand it, but it’s hard to deny something that probably just saved my life.”

  “You’re a very lucky lady, Miss Verity.” He stops and puts a hand on my arm. “Are you ever going to tell me what you were hiding?”

  “It’s not important,” I say and pull away from him. “It had nothing to do with the murders. It was about a boy.”

  “Grayson Chandler?”

  I stop walking. “Yeah. How did you know? Don’t tell me you’re psychic, too?”

  “Hardly. I just finished having a long talk with Bree Blair. She told me she knew about the passageway.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes. You might be interested in what else she has to say.” He gives me a disarming smile and keeps walking. “But right now I’d like to see this body before it disappears again.”

  The police take Geoffrey into custody without incident, although he refuses to let go of King Henry’s doublet. I find some dry clothes to change into in the Great Wardrobe and spend at least half an hour in one of bathroom showers trying to scrub away the gruesome taint of the bathhouse pool. Hank and I meet Officer Kilbride in the study and he asks us endless questions about Sarah and Floyd and Geoffrey.

  Despite Officer Lasky’s ridiculous theory—which was really just an attempt to scare me into confessing whatever sinister thing they thought I was hiding—there was no accomplice. Sarah was acting on her own, stealing fabric and jewels from the Great Wardrobe and incorporating them into items for sale in her online shop. I tell Officer Kilbride what Geoffrey told me about Floyd blackmailing Sarah for a share of the jewels, and he tells us that Mike the Knight confessed that Sarah asked him to help her replace the jewels in some of King Henry’s weapons. Mike knew what she was up to, but refused to help her. He claimed he was planning to turn her in but when she went missing he was afraid of being implicated.

  Finally Officer Kilbride tells me I’m free to go. “But I’ll be in touch, Miss Verity. Oh, and one more thing. You were right about the ketchup.”

  “I was?”

  “Yes. Suffice it to say, there’s a woman who’s alive today and getting the help she needs, because of you.”

  “Because of ketchup?”

  “Because of you. You can read about it in the Lunevale Gazette tomorrow. In the meantime, I think you have someone else to talk to.”

  I nod and open the door.

  “Mistress Verity, I’d say you’ve earned at least a week off, with pay,” Hank says. “I do hope you’ll be back?”

  “Thanks, Your Majesty. That’s really generous of you. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. But I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out,” I say, and close the door behind me.

  Bree is sitting in the hallway outside the door and she jumps up when she sees me. “Jules, I need to talk to you.” She puts a hand on my arm.

  I pull my arm away and keep walking. “I’m a little talked out right now. Did you hear about Geoffrey? He’s been arrested for killing Sarah. And Floyd.”

  “I know. And I know Angelique told you she saw me come out of the secret entrance to the passageway on the night Sarah died. Jules, I had nothing to do with Sarah’s murder. I told the police everything.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Officer Kilbride said. I’m sorry, Bree, but can we talk about this later? I really just want to go home right now. The last few hours have kind of been hell and—”

  “Grayson and I broke up.”

  This stops me in my tracks. “What?”

  She reaches out and takes my hand. “Come on, let’s go find a quiet place to talk.”

  “You’re not going to lead me to some secret room and try to kill me, are you?”

  “Nope. I was going to suggest the garden. I figured you could use a little sunshine.”

  We walk outside and find a bench just inside the hedge maze. Bree turns to face me.

  “I want you to know the truth. You have been through hell, Jules, and I’m really sorry.” She looks down at her lap. “This is ridiculously hard for me. You’re the first friend I’ve told besides Grayson. But you need to know the truth.” She meets my eyes again. “I was in the passageway the night Sarah died, but I had nothing to do with her murder. I went in there to meet someone. We…we wanted a place where we’d have some privacy, somewhere we could be alone. And when we heard someone else enter the passageway from upstairs, we got scared and I came out the entrance behind the suit of armor. I never even saw Sarah.” She stops and takes my hand. “The person I was with? It wasn’t Grayson.”

  My eyes must be bugging out, because Bree says, “I know. Jules, the person I was with was Kaitlyn.”

  “Your lady-in-waiting?”

  “Yes. And just so you know, she didn’t see Sarah, either. She left through the entrance in the dungeon so we wouldn’t be seen leaving the passageway together.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was definitely hiding something, but it had nothing to do with Sarah’s murder, I swear.”

  I’m pretty sure I understand what she’s saying, but I want to be sure. “So you’re…?”

  “I’m in love with Kaitlyn. Not Grayson.”

  “I so did not see that coming.”

  “I know. Everyone thinks I have this perfect life and the perfect boyfriend, but it’s a lie. Grayson is my best friend, but he hasn’t been my boyfriend for a long time. Not since I realized I had a crush on one of my girlfriends in seventh grade. I was madly in love with her for years but I knew she didn’t feel the same way, so there didn’t seem to be any point in telling anyone how I felt. Grayson knew, of course, but no one else. I didn’t want to risk losing my friends if they found out the truth. Everyone assumed that Grayson and I were more than friends, and neither of us did anything to correct their assumptions.

  “But then I met Kaitlyn and I wanted to be with her and I didn’t know what to do, and then Floyd told me about the passageways and we started meeting there, just to talk and be alone without worrying about what everyone else thought. I knew I was going to have to tell Grayson eventually, but it was all happening so fast and I didn’t want him to be embarrassed. To have everyone think he’d been dumped by his girlfriend because she’d realized she was a lesbian. It wasn’t like that, but no one else knew that. And then today when he told me that you knew I’d been in the passageway, I was horrified that anyone would think I had anything to do with Sarah’s death, and I knew that the only possible way to fix everything was to tell the truth.

  “And then when Grayson and I were talking, I realized he had feelings for
someone else, too, and it all suddenly made sense. He was afraid to tell me. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She busts into a gigantic grin at this, but I feel strangely numb. All I can think is, Who is Grayson in love with? And what if it’s not me? What if he’s finally free and he’s already found someone else?

  Bree tilts her head and tries to get a better look at my face. “Are you okay, Jules?” And suddenly she looks like she’s going to cry.

  I realize she must think I’m upset about her revelation instead of petrified at the thought that Grayson might already have another Bree.

  “If you don’t want to be my friend I totally—”

  I throw my arms around her. “Bree, of course I want to be your friend. You’re the only person besides Cami who never seems to care what a freak I am.”

  “You’re not a freak, Jules. You’re amazing. And anyway, normal is overrated.”

  I let go of her and we lean back to look at each other.

  “God, I’m so glad that’s over with,” Bree says, giving me her Miss America smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re not a murderer.” I manage to give her a genuine grin. “And I think Kaitlyn is enormously lucky, because you’re one of the best people I know. And I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier for you at school or work or whatever. I’m really sorry that I thought you were in any way involved in Sarah’s death.” I feel my face start to crumple again. “But I’m kind of a mess right now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go home and try not to think about Tudor Times for at least a week.”

  “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. You’ve been through hell and here I am going on and on about my problems. Go find Grayson, he’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I’ve got my mom’s van. And I don’t really think Grayson wants to talk to me right now.” Not after the things I said to him in the Oratory.

  “Jules. Go find Grayson.” She gives me another hug and then whispers in my ear, “It was you, by the way.”