by Joyce
“No. I’m Lady Jessie Morton, apprentice toy maker.”
“I thought not. You look a little old to be an elf. Don’t be here when it’s time for the next tour. Make your toys when everyone else is gone.”
“Seriously? Do you think you’re really Father Christmas or what? It would take only one word from me for you to lose your job. You don’t know who you’re talking to.”
Mind you, it was all hot air. Even if I’d said something to Merlin, he’d probably throw a blue smoke pellet out and run away. I couldn’t really think of anyone who’d care what Edgar did, except for me. But it couldn’t hurt to threaten him a little.
He drew himself up to his full height—still a few inches short of my six feet. “I shall have words with whoever is in charge, young woman. You’d best pack your things and find other employment for the season. The queen personally hired me for this position. You don’t know who you’re talking to.”
He swung his long robe elegantly around as he stormed out of the basement. I could almost see a cloud of steam accompanying him as he went outside.
“Oh, Jessie, what have you done now?” Christine asked in a less than confident voice.
Ten
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” I wasn’t completely sure about that, but what could the big blowhard do?
“I’m going to get the children and go over to the photo session,” she said.
“I’ll go with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let’s give Edgar a chance to cool off. If he sees you there, he might get me fired, too.”
I didn’t like her tone, but I understood her fears—even though I thought they were groundless. “Don’t forget, Christine, we’re going to get Edgar for murder. He’s not going to get anyone fired.”
She looked at me with worried eyes. “I know you mean well, but I can’t afford to lose focus on what I have to do. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. I appreciate all the help you’ve given us.”
Her eyes were clouded, and her face seemed to have taken on new wrinkles overnight. She’d been through a lot. I was sorry that I had added to her problems, but I just couldn’t stand to hear Edgar speak to her that way, not to mention talk about the kids like they were little slaves.
“That’s okay. I’ll talk to you later. And I’ll stay away from Edgar for a while—unless Detective Almond wants to put him in jail.”
She smiled a little, thanked me again, and disappeared upstairs.
I felt like I had ruined everything. The only way I could make it up to Christine was by convincing Detective Almond of our theory.
Chase had invited him to lunch. I met the two of them at Peter’s Pub. It was early, so there was no crowd to vie with for a table. Most visitors tended to eat later in the day. Chase had already ordered me a tankard of ale. I sat beside him, across the rough wood table from Detective Almond.
“So what’s this all about?” he asked, nursing a tankard of soda. “I have a lot on my plate right now. I hope this isn’t a waste of time.”
I looked at Chase and he nodded. “I think we have new evidence about Chris Christmas’s death.” That should have been blunt and short enough for him.
Detective Almond took a drink. “What’s new? I haven’t heard anything yet. I know you folks out here enjoy your drama, but this is police business. Why haven’t you been down to the station for your interview, Jessie? Or are you confessing?”
I explained about Edgar and Olivia. “There’s something there. First, someone was in the workshop and knocked me down when he escaped.” I handed him the green felt that had been trapped in my earring. “And then there was the runaway knight who tried to kill me and Chris’s wife.”
I lost some of my momentum when Peter’s sister, Maude, brought our lunch to the table. I could see Detective Almond was mulling over my words as he adjusted his cheeseburger on his plate so that it didn’t touch his fries.
“And what do you think about all of this, Manhattan?” he asked. “Jessie isn’t the new bailiff, right? That’s still your job, isn’t it?”
“Jessie put all of this together,” Chase said with the patience of a saint (as far as I was concerned). “I went with her to interview Queen Olivia. No doubt she brought Edgar Gaskin here before Chris Christmas died. He’s the new Father Christmas now.”
“And this Gaskin had a beef with the old Santa.” Detective Almond summed it up while he munched his fries—cheeseburger untouched until the fries were gone.
“Yes. Chris caught Gaskin stealing money from the Santa group they both belonged to. It’s a national group that helps people who play Santa through job layoffs and that kind of thing,” Chase explained.
“And you think Gaskin took advantage of the situation to kill Christmas?”
I glanced at Chase. It didn’t sound like things were going well. I didn’t know what else to say to convince Detective Almond that he should investigate Edgar.
Chase said, “I think it’s worth looking into. There are a few things that seem to add up. I don’t have experience with this kind of thing like you do. But it feels wrong. I’d hate to see someone still working here who’s responsible for Chris’s death.”
Detective Almond smiled at him. “You mean you wouldn’t like the media to get wind of something like that, right? I understand that. But the Myrtle Beach Police Department doesn’t have the money or the manpower to investigate every person who has some vague connection to the victim. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
In other words, he wasn’t going to do anything about Edgar. There would be no justice for Christine. I’d made her life miserable for nothing.
“Cheer up, you two lovebirds.” He wiped his mouth on his napkin. “I’ll make you a deal. You do the legwork and if you find anything solid—I mean concrete—that isn’t just how you feel or what you think might’ve happened, I’ll take over.”
I wasn’t sure if that’s what I’d had in mind, but it was probably as good as I was going to get. “You’ve got yourself a deal. What would you consider solid?”
He shrugged and started in on his cheeseburger. “A confession.”
“Is that it?” Chase asked.
“I think so. You get me a confession from your so-called killer, and I’ll bring the full weight of the Myrtle Beach Police down on him.”
“Okay. We can do that.” I glanced at Chase. He didn’t seem too pleased with the idea.
“Good.” Detective Almond took another bite. “This is a really good cheeseburger.”
It was my turn to zing him a little. “Didn’t you ever eat here when you were the Village bailiff?”
He almost choked on his burger. “How did you find out about that?”
“I was looking through the employee records. I didn’t find any pictures of you in tights or anything, but I’m sure they’re in the files somewhere. I’ll have another look while we investigate. Maybe a nice group shot. Did you live in the Dungeon?”
“The Dungeon wasn’t even built when I was here,” he said. “I stayed in the castle, which wasn’t as glamorous as it is now, I can tell you. And no, I didn’t wear tights. I wore my uniform. I wasn’t a detective yet. They needed somebody out here while the place was being set up. I’m just glad I got out before all the whack jobs moved in.”
“How long were you here?” Chase asked.
“Only a few months before Roger Trent took over as bailiff. Technically, I never had that title. People started calling me that right as I was about to leave. I got my promotion because of that. I don’t regret it.”
It was hardly worthwhile bringing it up. I’d thought he’d be more defensive, maybe even wanting me to keep quiet about it. Darn! It would’ve been a nice diversion.
Then a thought occurred to me. “Were you here when Chris and Alice Christmas were king and queen of the village?”
“No. Not to my knowledge. Are you saying the deceased has lived here before?”
Too bad! I told him abou
t the files. “This was before the new Mrs. Christmas came on the scene.”
“And you think it might be important to the case?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really know. I guess I was more curious than anything.”
He kind of grunted. “If that’s it, I’m going back to the office. Thanks for lunch.” He pushed out of the booth and got to his feet. “Be sure to call me when you get that confession.”
“Do you have the autopsy results yet?” I remembered to ask at the last minute. A few people around us in the pub looked up, probably surprised to hear someone in costume talking non-Ren speak.
“Not everything yet. I guess we all knew he died from that bullet wound to his neck. The medical examiner thinks he was sitting down, maybe making toys, and someone snuck up on him. He was dead before he knew it. Still had a paintbrush in his hand, poor devil.”
“Okay. Thanks. Can he be buried now?” I pressed him for more information.
“Not until we get everything back from the ME’s office. That could be a month or more. The widow has decided she wants him cremated when it’s over. Probably for easy handling. They have no permanent address. Did you know that?” He put down a couple of dollars on the table. “Good burger. Thanks for the invitation.”
I felt deflated by his information. How could I possibly get a confession from a killer? It seemed hopeless.
“Oh and by the way, if you’re serious about finding a killer for this, you might want to talk to Santa’s wife.”
“Why?” Chase asked for me.
“She had a huge insurance policy on him. And we’ve heard rumors that she was fooling around. The older boy said she sent him out into the Village by himself when they got back from the store with the camera. She had a few minutes on her hands before you were in the wrong place, Jessie. Get it? That might be your soft spot here. Get her to confess. See you two later.”
Eleven
I was devastated. I drank my ale and pushed my plate away. Who could eat at a time like this?
“Just because Almond said that doesn’t mean Christine is guilty of anything,” Chase said. “If I was the father of eight children and I made most of the money, I’d have some good life insurance, too. Come on, Jessie. You can’t suspect her. What would she have to gain by killing Chris? She’s alone with all those kids.”
I thought about Christine carefully. “Of course not! There is no way Christine killed him. I just hate that she looks so guilty. It wouldn’t be that way if they’d had a better marriage.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He drank some of his ale. “Is that what’s bothering you about the two of us being together permanently? Because you know I’ve been faithful to you.”
“I know you have.” I smiled and reached for his hand. “But you don’t know how terrible it is for a family. I remember how devastated my mother was when my father left us. That’s why I’ve never had a serious relationship, except for you. Robin Hood, the pirates, they were all summer flings that I knew I wouldn’t come back to. I’ve always been careful that no one stood between me and being able to take care of myself.”
“I understand.” He squeezed my hand, his gaze steady on mine. “But I feel like we’ve reached a critical-mass situation, Jessie. I think you have to make a decision.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded and quickly changed the subject. I didn’t want to be in an either-or position with Chase. I didn’t want to lose him.
“Christine hasn’t exactly been honest with me.”
He sighed and sat back from the table, his dark eyes glancing around the crowded room. “Having an affair and buying a lot of life insurance for your husband aren’t exactly topics for casual conversation with strangers,” he said. “She’s only known you for three days.”
“Or she was afraid I wouldn’t feel sorry for her anymore.”
“Why not? She has years left of raising all those kids. It’s going to cost a fortune to feed, clothe, and educate them. I’m sure that’s why they got the big insurance policy on Chris. That’s what those are for. It doesn’t make her a killer. It still leaves her without a husband.”
His tone had changed. I could tell he was suddenly out of this discussion. He was still thinking about us. The problem between us was becoming bigger. He felt like I didn’t trust him. I had to think of some way to prove that I did—while I was getting the killer’s confession.
Lucky for me, he was called away to an emergency at the Main Gate. He walked with me as far as the manor houses at Squire’s Lane, but there was an awful silence between us. I hated it, but if nothing short of a Renaissance wedding would make him happy, I didn’t know if I could go there.
I didn’t mention to him the mysterious paper Christine had hidden, but when we parted a few minutes later, I headed toward the workshop. Christine and the children would be in the photo area for the rest of the afternoon. It was the perfect opportunity for me to check it out.
A parade was strolling through the Village—costumed camels, elephants, dogs, horses—even sheep and goats. They were all decked out in their holiday finery, like the rest of us, with sprigs of holly and ribbons around their necks. Even Tom’s pig was dressed up.
Countless camera flashes went off as they walked along the cobblestones. Elegantly dressed fools, knaves, and varlets followed them with pooper scoopers (some very large) to make sure they left nothing behind but happy memories.
I slipped through the parade midway between the dancing poodles and baying hounds. I got a few dirty looks from the handlers, but that was all right. I didn’t want to wait to get around the animals.
As I’d thought, the basement was empty. I went right over to the drawer in the table. Whatever had been in there was gone.
I didn’t like Christine as a suspect. I felt sure Detective Almond was telling the truth about the insurance policy, but like Chase had said, it made sense. Without the money, what would she do to keep the family going?
I glanced up when I heard a noise at the door. A piece of paper was taped to the inside of it. Even though I was pretty sure someone was coming in, I ran over and grabbed it.
It was a threatening letter to Christine. Done in paint, it said, You killed your husband. Now you pay the price. There was nothing to indicate who’d written it.
The door opened slowly. I hid behind it. My heart was beating like crazy, but there was nowhere else to go at that point. If I was lucky, whoever it was would see the workshop was empty and leave again. If not, I might have to come up with a quick excuse.
It was King Harold, unusually alone. There were no courtiers, no fools or knaves to cater to his every whim. He was dressed in street clothes, no golden crown. I peeked through the crack between the door and the wall and saw him look around anxiously, his hands sliding in and out of his pockets.
He stayed in the doorway with the door open. Christine joined him.
She immediately put her arms around him, and they kissed passionately.
I didn’t need to wonder anymore who she was having an affair with.
Twelve
“I’m so glad you could come,” she said, smiling up into his face. “I’m so alone. I don’t know what to do.”
He soothed her, patting her back and holding her near. “Don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to you or the children. Edgar is just an employee. He doesn’t make those kinds of decisions. Your place is safe here.”
“Thank you so much.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him for several more moments.
I stayed as still as I could, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. Christine and Harry seemed pretty tight from my bird’s-eye view. Their affair at least sounded serious. Had she been planning on leaving Chris? Or was this just payback for all his philandering?
A new thought hit me—maybe the two of them were responsible for Chris’s death and Christine’s grieving-widow act was just to throw everyone off.
I didn’t like that idea at all. It squirmed inside of me but refused to go away.
&nbs
p; I knew lots of people who’d had casual and not so casual affairs, but they didn’t kill their mates. Not even for a hefty insurance policy?
“What about Jessie?” Christine asked. “Edgar threatened her, too.”
“I’ll take care of that. Are you sure you want Lady Jessie hanging around right now? She has an annoying habit of asking a lot of questions. I could get her reassigned.”
“I like her, and she’s good with the kids. That’s all that matters. She’s helping me try to figure out who killed Chris.”
Harry seemed surprised (or guilty—those two expressions always look the same to me). “What do you mean? You should leave that to the police, my dear. They know how to get the job done.”
Christine explained things the same way to him as I had to Detective Almond and Chase. “You know Edgar hated Chris. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill him.”
“Does she know about us?”
“No, of course not. But she knows that Chris had an affair with Livy. She could put two and two together.”
“That sounds like her.” He ran his hand through his thick, graying hair. “It would be uncomfortable for me if the police found out about us, Christine. Please don’t encourage her. If anyone knew about us—how I got this job for Chris so you’d be closer—I could lose everything, especially with the baby due any time.”
Christine rested her head against his chest. “I’ll talk to her, tell her I don’t want to pursue this anymore. I think she’s only doing it for me anyway. Don’t worry. If you can handle Edgar, I can take care of Jessie.”
I didn’t like the way she’d said that, even though she’d been glowing with my praises earlier. I wasn’t crazy about Harry making it sound like I was the Village busybody either. Between them, I seemed like someone I didn’t want to know.
Christine and Harry embraced again, then separated. Harry went cautiously back out the basement door, putting on sunglasses as he went. How non-Ren could he get? Christine passed right by me and went up the stairs to the manor house.
