by Joyce
“Wait up, Jessie.” Chase ran out of the tavern after me. He was laughing. “Don’t take it so hard. It could’ve been worse.”
“I asked you to switch sides with me. She would never have pranked you that way.”
“Probably not, but I’ve had my share of pranks. Everyone has. And you’ve pranked plenty of people, too.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, walking as fast as I could across the King’s Highway in my underwear. “And I’ll make sure to get her back. But do you know what Portia is going to say when she sees this gown tomorrow? She’s not going to care that I was pranked. They’ll probably take the money for it out of my salary.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll pay for it.”
I’d have found his offer more comforting if he hadn’t been smiling when he said it. “This isn’t funny, Chase.”
“It is, you know. I’m sorry but it’s funny.” He tried to put his arm around me and I shrugged it off.
I noticed the light was still on in Christine’s basement workshop. I needed some space, and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind me stopping in to tell her my news—even if my bottom half was clad only in Renaissance underwear.
“I’m going to talk to Christine,” I told him. “I’ll see you later at the Dungeon.”
“You’re going in there like that?”
“I don’t think she’ll find it as funny as you do. See you later.”
“Jessie. Come on. It’s just a prank. It’s funny.”
“Later, Chase.” I frowned at him as I opened the basement door. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, but it felt like the right thing to do. I hated to be mad at him for what had happened, but he didn’t have to be so cheerful about it. He could’ve immediately helped me come up with a suitable response.
Christine looked up from her work painting toys as I banged the door closed. “Jessie?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”
“It’s late. Were you planning on working? What happened to your gown?”
I sat on one of the small wooden chairs across the worktable from her. She was wearing faded old jeans and a paint-spattered T-shirt that said Santa Rules! Her glasses had some paint flecks on them, and there was a blue streak on her cheek.
I explained what had happened to my gown. She shook her head but didn’t smile. That made me feel better.
“Sometimes those pranks get out of hand. The members of the Santa Fund are always pranking each other, too. One time, Chris’s beard was dyed pink through the whole Christmas season. One of the other Santas had rigged a balloon with pink dye in it and it burst in Chris’s face when he was blowing it up for an event. He was lucky his eyes weren’t affected. He lost three jobs because of that. It took a dozen washes, and then we still had to dye it white again.”
I had to admit, that was a pretty good prank. I didn’t laugh because she obviously took it as seriously as I took my recent run-in with Wanda. I realized I wouldn’t have been as upset if one of the Tornado Twins or Friar Tuck had pranked me. Maybe this was a good time to get over my fear of Wanda once and for all.
“I found some interesting information from the Santa Fund,” she told me. “It seems that I was right—Edgar was hired to be here at the same time as Chris. No one hires two Santas for the same gig. It’s just not done.”
I told her that I’d discovered the same thing in the Village records. “I know you said it had been a while since Chris and Olivia had…been involved, but Edgar was hired by the queen to be here. He’s even living in the castle. There’s something fishy about that.”
Christine stopped painting a cute Ferris wheel. “Are you saying you think Olivia plotted with Edgar to kill my husband?”
“I don’t know yet. We should go and talk to Livy first thing tomorrow morning. What do you know about Chris’s ex-wife, Alice?”
She wiped her hands slowly on a towel. “I don’t know. Not that much. She was long gone by the time I met him, and we were married for seventeen years. He only spoke of her briefly. Let’s talk to her if you think it will help.”
I knew I was holding back information, but I didn’t know if Chris’s being here twenty years ago meant anything yet.
“Chris was killed, Jessie. I want justice for him. It seems the only way that’s going to happen is if you and I find that justice. I really appreciate your helping me.”
We didn’t say much after that, and I got the feeling that she wanted to be alone to sort through everything. So much had happened so quickly. She was handling all of it much better than I could have.
“I guess I better go home and change clothes,” I said, getting up. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to make all of this right.”
She smiled but didn’t speak. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, making the blue paint run down her neck. I didn’t tell her. She could deal with it later.
The Village was dark and quiet when I stepped out of the lighted basement. It would be easy for me to get so caught up in trying to solve the mystery of Chris’s murder that I’d lose sight of the emotional impact my efforts might have on Christine and the children.
He was gone and his family was left to fend for itself, no matter who had done the deed. Finding his killer wouldn’t bring him back. But I hoped that by learning the truth and helping to put the killer away, I could bring some kind of peace to the family. Still, it was going to be a long, hard road for them either way.
Once the Village closed and the visitors went home, the area became like a small neighborhood of people who knew each other very well. True, there were the newbies who were lost for the first six months or so. But many of the residents were like family. They kept each other’s secrets, fought, and pranked, but in the end, they belonged to the Village and this unique lifestyle.
The large stadium lights situated throughout the Village could essentially turn night into day, but they were only switched on in emergencies. That left the open parts of the Village between the residents’ housing and the shops dark. But as I walked by the Village storefronts, lights still shone from some of the many windows. At Fractured Fairy Tales, assorted characters were rehearsing for the next day, and at the Monastery Bakery, the monks were making bread dough for the morning rush.
I waved to Mrs. Potts at the Honey and Herb Shoppe as I passed her window. She was busy baking her famous ginger cookies.
Some acrobats were practicing in the grassy area behind the Dutchman’s Stage while a group of tiny terriers were learning their tricks for the show. The smell of roasting potatoes and grilling meats from the Three Pigs Barbecue wafted down the cobblestones.
The sights, smells, and sounds of the Village were as familiar to me as my own face. No matter how insecure I felt about the idea of living here full time, it was getting harder to leave and go back to that other life at the university.
Eight
When I arrived at the Dungeon, Chase apologized very nicely for laughing at me. There is no way to resist him when he works that hard.
The rest of the night was quiet in the Village. Chase and I slept through it without a single call about anything going wrong. The next morning, we went down to Fabulous Funnels for coffee and fruity funnel cakes.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked while we were having breakfast.
“Well, you’re supposed to call Detective Almond for me. Then I’m going to get Christine, and we’re going to question Livy.”
“Okay. That wasn’t something we’d talked about. I would’ve remembered.”
“I know. But I think it might lead us to some other answers.”
“I was worried that you might try to go alone and question someone you thought had been responsible for the murder. That would be a mistake—even with Christine for backup.”
“If I don’t ask the questions, how will I know the answers?” I stabbed a strawberry with my plastic fork and plopped it into my mouth. Yum!
“Did you ever wonder why police officers travel in
pairs?” he asked. “You watch a lot of police dramas on TV. Don’t they usually have a group with them when they go in to snag the killer?”
I thought about it. “I don’t know. I prefer the books and TV shows with the maverick cop who does it all by herself. Or a duo, like Cagney and Lacey.”
“Give me some time to do my rounds and I’ll go with you. If not, I’ll send a security guard with you. I don’t think you and Christine should wander into the castle and ask who killed Father Christmas.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “I have to go and wrangle a new gown out of Portia this morning anyway. I can’t walk around in my jeans all day.”
“Just like that?” He eyed me suspiciously. “I say wait for me and you go along with it? That’s not like you, Jessie. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Forsooth, good sir. I think you malign me. Your words wound my very spirit.”
“Yeah. Whatever. There are no visitors to appreciate those pretty words, my lady. But if you don’t wait after promising you would, I’ll call for vegetable justice and clap you in irons.”
“You don’t have to threaten me. Not that I’m worried Livy will pull a gun and try to shoot us or anything.”
Chase’s radio went off, disturbing our breakfast. There was a fire in a trash can near the blacksmith shop. Security was trying to put it out and wanted to keep him in the loop.
“I better go. I don’t want the whole Village to go up in flames.” He kissed me lightly. “I’ll be at the workshop as soon as I can. Wait for me.”
“I said I would. You don’t have to keep saying it.”
“With you, I can’t say it often enough. Have you thought any more about staying with me in the Village?”
“Not really. I’m trying to find Santa’s killer right now. But I’ll get there.”
A chorus of oohs arose when he kissed me again. Everyone loves a good Village romance. Chase and I were certainly that. I just wasn’t sure if it was the kind of romance that lasts. Probably more to the point, I was afraid to find out.
I picked up my cloth bag filled with what remained of my gown from yesterday and trudged across the King’s Highway where Bo Peep was herding her sheep for their early morning walk. Minstrels were set up at the Village Square, rehearsing their performance for the day. I noticed that Susan Halifax was playing the harp for that event. She’d injured her hand earlier in the year and had been unable to do anything but manage the Merry Mynstrel’s Stage while it healed.
On the cobblestones ahead of me, the horse-drawn carriages were being readied for rides. Instead of the Cinderella blue and gold, the carriages, horses, and drivers were all wearing red velvet trimmed with white faux fur. The drivers’ tiny little red hats sat cocked at a sassy angle on their heads, a large white feather tickling each of their noses.
At the castle, it looked as though some unseen workmen were experimenting with the snow, which was guaranteed to fall several times daily, according to the holiday brochure for the Village. Bart had been right. Rather than sprinkling down gracefully from above, the snow was shooting out of the castle, most of it ending up in Mirror Lake. The pirate ship, Queen’s Revenge, was covered in it. I could hear the swearing and complaining from the pirates all the way from the costume shop near the Main Gate. They obviously needed to move the snowmaker to another location.
Portia was at her post, leaning her head against her hand in the open window. A few residents were in front of me, trading dirty costumes for clean ones. All of those costumes seemed to be in one piece, unlike mine. The trades went quickly, and I was soon confronted with Portia’s pale, grimacing face.
“What is this?” she asked when she looked in my bag. “Is this one of the new Santa helper costumes? What happened to it?”
I explained that it wasn’t my fault, that she should bill Wanda for the damages if she wanted to blame someone.
“Do you have any idea what these new costumes cost? And no one else had even worn this costume. Chase picked it up specially for you. I know Beth is going to have to get some money for this. This is damaged beyond repair.”
Beth Daniels created all the costumes for the Village residents as well as rentals for visitors who wanted to look the part for a day. She also ran Stylish Frocks and made costumes for the royalty. She and I got along pretty well most of the time. I knew she hated to see her creations ripped apart like my gown had been.
“It wasn’t my fault, Portia. It was a prank gone bad. I think you should garnish Wanda’s wages for it.”
“I’m not authorized to do that, Jennie.”
“Jessie,” I reminded her. “But you can take the money out of my paycheck, right?”
She frowned at me. “I’m certainly not taking it out of Chase’s paycheck.” She handed me a new green and white holiday gown. “Be careful with this one. You can’t go around messing up all the costumes and get away with it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay away from Wanda.” Except for when I seriously prank her.
“You’ll get the bill for this with your next paycheck,” she said.
“You’ll have to take a number,” I fired back even though I knew she wouldn’t understand. “Thanks, Portia.”
“You’re welcome.”
I took my new costume back to the Dungeon, plotting and scheming my revenge on Wanda the whole way. It wasn’t going to be easy getting back at her. Since I always tried to stay as far away from her as I could, I knew nothing about her or her routines. I was going to have to remedy that without getting too close.
The green gown was pretty, and lighter than the one that Wanda had ruined. I knew the gown had cost hundreds of dollars. I shuddered even thinking about it. I made only five hundred dollars a month working at the Village. I hoped they’d take that into consideration.
I was finally dressed for the day—I didn’t envy those poor, real-life Renaissance women who’d had to wear garments like these every day. Of course, ours were much simpler and didn’t have the restrictions of that time. The costume gowns were made to look realistic but had modern conveniences, like hidden zippers.
I met William Shakespeare, who was on his way to his spot on the King’s Highway where he would recite odes and poetry all day while flirting with the pretty girls who went by him.
He swept off his large, plumed hat and dropped into a deep bow. “Good morning to you, Lady Jessie. I trust you are well this fine morning. You are looking particularly lovely. That green gown suits you well.”
I curtsied to him and smiled. “My thanks, good sir. Your words are a soothing balm to my ears.”
“May I escort you to your destination?” He held out his arm.
“If you have the time before the Main Gate opens, that would be wonderful. I love your new holiday brocade look. It’s very colorful.”
“There is always time to speak with a beautiful woman.” He smiled and tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. “I hear you had an unfortunate run-in with Wanda last night.”
Of course. Everyone knew by now. “Don’t worry. I plan to seek revenge for the wrong.”
He patted my hand as we began to walk down the cobblestones toward Squire’s Lane. “Have I ever related the fact that Wanda and I had a short and ugly relationship once? Mayhap we might converse on ways to help you with that revenge—and seek my own at the same time.”
Shakespeare and I parted company outside the manor houses at Squire’s Lane. He had a few interesting ideas on how to get back at Wanda for her prank. It was going to take some time to decide on exactly the right course of action. I wanted it to be memorable.
It seemed odd that any of the Village attractions were in the brick manor houses. They’d stood empty for as long as I’d been coming here. I always wondered why they weren’t used. Apparently, Adventure Land had been waiting for the right time.
The Main Gate wasn’t open yet, but it would be any minute. I hurried across the damp, slightly snow-covered grass, anxious to reach the workshop before all the children came runni
ng in to see Father Christmas. I hoped Christine was up for a showdown with Edgar and Livy. If she opted out, I’d have to wait around for Chase, which would be rather deflating after my brave words to him earlier. But I wasn’t sure if I should face my two chief suspects alone.
I opened the door to the workshop quietly. I knew Christine homeschooled the children first thing in the morning, and I didn’t want to disrupt their lessons. But she was in the workshop, looking at a piece of paper, which she hastily shoved into one of the table drawers as I entered.
I said, “Hi, Christine. Something important?”
She jumped and almost lost her glasses. “Jessie. I wasn’t expecting you this early.” Her normally pink face turned a bright shade of red.
“We were going to the castle this morning, remember?”
She got to her feet quickly, not easy to do in her full, white gown. “That’s right. What was I thinking?” She adjusted her glasses and the neckline of her bodice—Renaissance necklines can gape open very easily. Beth had probably changed her burgundy gown to match the new Santa’s outfit.
I noticed that she’d made sure the drawer was closed. Whatever she’d put in the drawer wasn’t something she wanted seen. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting you,” I said, hoping she’d tell me about the now-hidden paper.
“Oh no. Of course not. The children are finishing their reading. We have a little while before they want us at the manor house with Father Christmas. I’ll just go and get my shawl and meet you outside.” She smiled in a distracted way. I didn’t say anything else about it.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering what she’d been looking at.
The Main Gate had opened while I was waiting for Christine. Hoards of children poured in, thrusting and pushing their way toward the Father Christmas manor house. They looked clean and dressed up in their suits and ties, suits of armor, princess dresses, and Disney-character costumes. What pictures those were going to be!
“Do you think it’s safe for us to just go up and accuse someone of killing Chris?” Christine asked as we walked past Eve’s Garden to reach the castle.
