by Joyce
I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Christine. I hope I’m wrong about Harry. I just know what I’ve seen for the past few years.”
“Thanks. I wish I’d never met him. I love him so much, but I know it’s wrong. Now that Chris is gone, I’m so afraid. Harry has promised me and the kids a permanent toy-making shop here for as long as we want it. I think we could make a go of it, with his help. I don’t know what else to do, whether he really loves me or not.”
We finished watching the archery tournament together, then we took the kids to Fractured Fairy Tales where they were performing a hilarious version of Snow White. We all laughed together, then had pretzels with mustard at a traveling cart.
Christine was meeting with her lawyer outside the Village. She and the children returned to the manor house to change clothes. She said she wanted me to come back to the workshop the next day. She told me she wouldn’t let Edgar’s threats bother her again.
I’d wanted to ask her about the life insurance she had on Chris, but I couldn’t find the words. And I respected her too much, as odd as it sounds, to think she’d be stupid enough to kill Chris in such a way that she wouldn’t collect. If not for herself, then for the children. Christine might have been cheating on her husband, but I didn’t believe she had anything to do with his death.
Now, Edgar and Harry were another story. I could see nasty old Edgar killing Chris. I wasn’t so sure about Harry. That seemed like a lot of work for him to put into a relationship.
Finding myself at loose ends for a while, I thought I’d go back to the castle and see if anyone there had any information about Chris’s death. Gossip traveled fast in those stone halls. At least fifty people worked there, and they were good at figuring out what was going on.
I reached the entrance just as Livy was making another practice run, preparing for her baby. It looked more like wrestling as Wanda, Ladies Jane and Barbara, and Esmeralda from the laundry room tried to wheel Livy out of the castle and down to the Main Gate.
“Don’t just stand there, Jessie,” Esmeralda said irritably. “Help us!”
Not seeing exactly how I could help and wary of getting too close to Wanda, I got saddled with Livy’s three pieces of luggage. I looked around, but there was no sign of Harold.
“Shouldn’t the father come, too?” I asked.
“He should,” Lady Jane grunted. “But he’s injured. He’ll be no help to us when it happens.”
Evidently, Mrs. Potts had underestimated the extent of Harry’s injuries. If he was too badly injured to work on the practice birthing team, he was in bad shape. Everyone had gone on about how devoted he’d been to Livy the last two months.
Of course, they didn’t know that he was sleeping with Christine. I guessed his devotion didn’t extend to monogamy.
Livy was crying loudly as the two ladies-in-waiting and Esmeralda pushed her wheelchair past the pirate ship and a group of gawking visitors who readily snapped pictures of the sight.
“Were there wheelchairs during the Renaissance?” one man with thick, black-framed glasses asked as I struggled to keep up while holding Livy’s heavy bags of necessities.
“I’m sure there were,” I replied. “Now get out of the way.”
By the time we reached the Main Gate, we were all breathless and ready to cry. Livy was shaking back and forth in her chair, her pretty plump face covered in runny mascara.
Wanda snapped her stopwatch closed. “It took longer this time. We’ll have to improve on that.”
“For heaven’s sake!” Lady Jane panted. “Either put her up in a hotel room near the hospital or get a helicopter. I can’t take much more of this.”
Esmeralda, who was used to telling laundry wenches what to do all day, collapsed on the cobblestones. “Find someone else. I’m not doing this again. Where’s Gus? He should be doing this.”
“I am your queen,” Livy sobbed. “I am with child. You have to take care of me. What is wrong with all of you?”
Visitors were passing on their way out of the Village, watching the event with interested eyes, some holding up their cell phones to get pictures. This wasn’t the kind of publicity the Village normally wanted. But the king and queen were important to everyday life here. The birth of Queen Olivia’s baby was important, too—and would bring a fair amount of publicity, the kind the Village liked.
I had dropped Livy’s luggage on the ground when we’d stopped at the gate. I wasn’t sure if they would call some varlet over to haul the bags back to the castle. The three pieces felt like they had rocks in them. How much did Livy need for a short stay at the hospital?
Lucky for all of us, Chase, Gus, and Merlin showed up, wondering if they could lend a hand. Merlin was no help at all, casting colored smoke bombs left and right that smelled like rotten eggs.
Chase and Gus were a different story. Chase lifted Livy from the wheelchair and started walking back to the castle with her. She put her arms around his neck and smiled up into his face. I ground my teeth a little but knew there was nothing she could do with all of us watching her.
Gus picked up the luggage as though the bags weighed nothing, which left Esmeralda pushing the empty wheelchair back up past the Queen’s Revenge. The ladies-in-waiting had quickly retreated back to the castle when they’d seen everything was taken care of.
I followed them back, still hoping to do a little investigating into Chris’s death. I knew Esmeralda had been at the castle for a long time, so I asked her about the first king and queen.
“Why are you asking me that at a time like this?” she impatiently demanded. “Isn’t it bad enough we are all out here like idiots? Have you become the Village historian or something?”
Hmm—not a bad idea. Maybe something I could suggest to Merlin.
But I kept my focus on my question. “I know that Chris Christmas was the Village king when it first opened. I was just wondering what happened to his wife, Alice. Did she leave the Village, or is she still here?”
She stopped walking. “Jessie, there have been so many ladies-in-waiting, knights, lords, and madmen that I just can’t keep up with it anymore. I recall someone was king and queen before Olivia and Harold, but I don’t know what happened to either of them. I’m sorry.”
“Chris was killed here,” I reminded her. “He was remarried. I was hoping to notify his ex-wife. I thought she might want to know.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I just don’t know. Maybe Merlin or Roger Trent could help you. They were around then, too.”
I crossed her off of my list of people to talk to who might remember Chris and Alice. I didn’t like the idea of talking to Roger about anything. We got along only so well. But if it meant understanding what had gone on in the first few months after the Village opened, I was willing to do it. I didn’t know if locating Alice would bring me any closer to a confession, but it seemed worth a shot.
And who knew? Maybe Chris’s ex-wife had killed him. Stranger things had happened.
Fourteen
I walked on to the castle anyway with the idea that I could walk back with Chase. I wondered if Rita Martinez had also been at the castle when Chris was king. She might remember something.
But everyone from the lowest chambermaid to Princess Isabel was trying to get Livy settled in her chambers. I walked in just as Wanda was telling her that she wasn’t having a heart attack and could bloody well handle having a baby. Livy still had her arms locked around Chase, refusing to let him put her down on the chaise.
I stood in the doorway, not wanting to be drawn into the theatrics but hardly able to look away from them. I didn’t realize King Harold had joined me until he said, “Livy has always been sensitive.”
I looked at him, seeing the man behind the costume. Harold was pretty ordinary. I never understood what women saw in him—same with Livy. There were people out there who weren’t middle-aged and slightly frumpy who couldn’t get dates like those two did. Livy and Harry could hardly keep the opposite sex away. Maybe
it was the royalty bit. Look at Henry the Eighth.
Of course, Harry had been injured. It didn’t help that his arm was in a sling and he had bruises on the side of his face. It must’ve been a nasty fall.
“Your Majesty.” I nodded respectfully but didn’t curtsy. My feelings were still a little hurt from his description of me to Christine. Not to mention his offer to get rid of me. I didn’t even want to know what he thought he could do.
“Lady Jessie. It’s good to see you. You’re looking tolerably well.”
“Thank you.” Should I bring up knowing about his affair with Christine? What would be the point? He’d either deny it or worse, act like he was in love with her, ready to leave Livy when the baby was born.
“I’ve spoken with Christine. I know.” The words were out before I could stop them. I needed to see his reaction, I told myself. But it was really more that I had to say it.
Talk about theatrics. If Livy was the queen of melodrama, Harry was the king. He said, “I know, too.” Like he’d rehearsed it for weeks. There was an important lift to his brow to underscore his words. He said it in such a way that it was almost poignant.
“I’m glad.” I faced him, enjoying looking down at him. “This way we can talk about it.”
He sniffed royally and attempted to return my stare, though his eyes didn’t get further than my bosom. “This is not the kind of thing one stands in the corridor and talks about. Come with me, lady. We must speak in private.”
I thought it couldn’t hurt. I knew he was leading me to his personal chambers, but I wasn’t worried about being seduced, and I had enough on him that he wouldn’t want to fire me.
I wasn’t worried about it at all. Nothing he could say would convince me he was right in sleeping with Christine while Livy was carrying his child. How could it get lower than that?
Harry actually let me walk in his chamber first. He had to be nervous to do that. Royalty always went first. “Would you like a drink? I have some excellent peach brandy.”
“No thanks.” I sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs that looked like a wooden scoop with a little cushion on it. Everyone who served in the castle hated them. I felt safe in this one. It was as far away from the sofa as possible.
Harry poured himself some brandy, then sat opposite me. “The future of Renaissance Village is at stake, Lady Jessie. Without a king and queen, what would become of this place we all love so well?”
Oh, the drama. “First of all, I think you and Livy could be replaced. Honestly, it’s not like you’re the first royalty of the Village, right?”
He took a swallow of his drink and glared at me. “You’ve done your homework. You’re correct. Chris and Alice were the first. Olivia and I were asked first by Adventure Land, but we weren’t sure about doing it. We were making good money selling advertising for the company. Why give it up?”
I waited as he stood up and paced the wood floor. “But Chris wanted to make the Village too much like Santa Land for the higher-ups. He decided to leave. Alice wanted to stay on as queen, but Adventure Land wanted a married couple. They made it very attractive for me and Livy. We decided to take them up on it. We’ve made the Village what it is today.”
“I think that’s questionable. But thanks for telling me the story. How would losing you and Livy take down the Village?”
“We are the goodwill ambassadors, Lady Jessie. We personify the Village. We hold it together. And marketing says that our child will grow revenue shares at least forty percent in the next two years.”
I understood that. It was always about the money and the shareholders. “Okay. Why do you think your affair with Christine would change that? Everyone knows you and Livy get around. I can’t imagine anyone being surprised by this.”
I couldn’t help remembering what Livy had said about Harry finding out about her affair with Edgar. It seemed to me that both of them were skating at the edge of the limits their marriage would allow.
“That would have been true before the baby,” Harry said. “Women hate men who cheat on their pregnant wives. It wouldn’t market well. Besides, you know me. I don’t plan to make my relationship with Christine permanent. It was just something fun to do. And it relieved my stress—and it was ironic in a way because Livy slept with Chris.”
I got to my feet, a little sick and disgusted. I knew how Christine felt about him. She was stupid for getting involved with a married man in the first place, but hearing his callous remarks made me think even less of him than I already did.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to tell anyone, except Christine, unless you break it off with her. Did you ever think this”—I poked my finger into his injured arm—“could be the result of playing fast and loose with people’s emotions?”
He looked at the sling. “I thought I felt someone shove me down the basement stairs. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything. Was it you?”
I laughed. “Not me. I was too smart to fall for your BS when you hit on me the first day I worked here. You probably don’t even remember.”
“But you do.” He looked at me through half-closed eyes and parted his lips. “There may be a reason for that.”
Ugh! That really turned my stomach. “Okay. Enough of that or I will push you off of something. Either tell Christine it’s over, or I’ll tell her what you said, and then I’ll go to Livy with the information. That’s your choice.” I curtseyed to him. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”
I got out of his chambers as quickly as I could. Harry had some nerve trying to hit on me during that conversation. The man was no better than a stray cat. Maybe I could find some way to pin Chris’s murder on him. The Village might lose some market shares if Harry and Livy split up and took their child away. But we might all be the better for it.
Chase was waiting at the castle gate for me. I had planned to wait there for him if he hadn’t been finished with Livy. I just couldn’t go back in there again. At least, not then. I needed some fresh air.
“There you are,” he said when he saw me. “Where’d you get off to?”
I explained about my tête-à-tête with Harry. “I think he’ll tell her. It’s stupid to keep leading her on that way. What a jerk!”
I was moving really fast down the hill, frustration and anger adding speed to my feet. Chase kept up with me. “Will that help? Did he know anything about Chris’s death?”
“I don’t know. I asked him about Chris being king. He remembered it, at least, which is more than I can say for Detective Almond or Esmeralda. He knew Chris had been here.”
“So you think Harry had something to do with Chris’s death?”
“I don’t think so. It would take some passion for him to care enough to want Christine for himself. I don’t believe he has that in him. You were right. I hope Christine can handle it. She really cares about him.”
“She’s better off forgetting him,” he said. “Cut it off fast. That’s the best way.”
I smiled at him. He looked so handsome walking beside me, the wind blowing his hair. “Is that what I can expect if we break up? A sharp cut?”
He smiled back and put his arm around me. “That’s not going to happen. I never want to live without you. I thought you knew that.”
I felt all warm inside and changed the subject. “That leaves me back with Edgar as my suspect.”
“Or Christine. When Detective Almond finds out she was having an affair with Harry, she’ll be suspect number one. If she isn’t already.”
“I thought that was me because I found the body.”
“Maybe. He did mention something about keeping an eye on you. I told him I had that covered.”
“Anyway, I don’t think Christine is guilty.”
“Because you feel sorry for her?”
“No, because raising eight kids alone isn’t going to be any fun—even with the insurance money. Besides, there’s the threatening note.” I told him about the crude note I’d found on the workshop door.
H
e shrugged. “I agree, but she could have done the note herself. And the police could argue that she doesn’t realize she and Harry won’t be together. She might think she’ll get the money, have Harry, and live a good life.”
“I thought you didn’t think she was guilty?”
“Not me. I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. And I’ve worked with the police enough times to know how they think. Edgar is a long shot. Christine is a bird in hand.”
I had to laugh at that. “Please, stop mangling all those metaphors. It’s giving me a headache.”
He stopped walking. “We should immediately return to the Dungeon for emergency first aid.”
I had to stop walking, too. It struck me that there were some things I needed to say to this man who was so important to me. “I love you. You know that, right? I know I’m being stupid and stubborn over this thing with staying in the Village. I’m just scared. I wish I wasn’t, because you’re the most awesome person I’ve ever known.”
“I know.” He smiled and kissed me. “But you’ll come around. I’ll be here to soften you up until you do.”
As we were romantically standing in each other’s arms, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, a short man dressed in elf green and peasant brown made a loud coughing sound. “Excuse me,” he said finally after we’d ignored him for a few seconds.
“Sorry.” I glared at him for interrupting the moment. “Do you want something?”
“I’m Officer Paul Miller from the Myrtle Beach Police Department. Detective Almond told me to contact you right away, Ms. Morton. I’m supposed to arrange a time here, at your convenience, to take your statement about the recent character death here in Renaissance Village. He said, and I quote, ‘It might be faster than waiting for her to come to the station.’ End quote. You can call him if you like.”
Chase smiled and held out his hand to the other man. “He might be right. I’m Chase Manhattan, Village bailiff. You must be one of the undercover officers Detective Almond is assigning here until we crack this case.”
