Trouble Most Faire
Page 19
Guy.
Guy had killed Laura. She felt Mal press against her back, a comforting presence. “Why didn’t you call 911?”
“I panicked and called Ham. Sheriff Hammond. He said it was too late to help her, and to put her in the river. If there was evidence, the water would wash it, or most of it, away, and he’d convince the coroner to say it was an accident. Which it was, just not the kind he wanted it to look like.”
“Why? Why would he do that?”
“The developers,” Mal said in a voice thick with disgust. “He didn’t want his business partner going to jail before the deal went through.”
Softly, Dale asked, “Why was she coming to see you, wearing that dress?”
Guy gave a little bark of laughter. “It’s not what you think. It was going to be her wedding dress. She couldn’t show you. That would be bad luck. But she was too excited not to tell someone, so she was going to show me and then Mal.” Anticipating the next obvious question, he added, “She wrote about it in her diary before she left the house.”
“Her diary?” Robbi said. “She had it with her? What did you do with it?”
“I got it from her cottage, in case she’d mentioned who she was going to see. I hid it in the castle, in one of the artifacts.” Again, he scanned the group, as if looking for allies. Robbi didn’t think he was going to find any. “You believe me, right?” he said. “You have to know I’d never hurt Laura on purpose.”
“El?” Mal said. “You knew all this?”
“I saw it happen.” Elinore crossed her arms and glared at Guy. “Tuck had escaped again, and I was looking for him everywhere. I wound up at the mill just as Guy decked Laura with his sword.”
Robbi pushed the image away from her mind. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
With a bitter laugh, Elinore said, “What would be the point of that? We’d just get Hammond, and we all know how that one goes.”
“You could have told us,” Mal said. “You could have told me.”
“And have you do what? I love you, little brother, but you don’t have the grit to do what needed to be done. Neither do your friends.”
Trouble rubbed against Robbi’s leg. She picked him up and buried her face in his fur. He smelled sweet, like comfort. “Was it like he said? An accident?”
Elinore shrugged. “It looked like that to me. But then he made a phone call, and right after that, he dumped her in the river. It was wrong. He should have been honest about it. Like he should have been honest about the shares. Like he should have been honest about—” She stopped, her cheeks flushing pink.
“I was always honest about that,” Guy said softly. “I’ve lied about a lot of things, but never that.”
Elinore shot him a blistering glare. “You had so many chances. You could have confessed after you survived the poison. You could have confessed after your stirrup broke, or after the car wreck. You could have faced up to what you did. That was the message. Come clean or die.”
“But…” Robbi frowned, trying to make sense of it. “Any of those things could have killed him. It wasn’t like you gave him the chance to make it right first, and then tried to kill him if he made the wrong choice.”
“Don’t you get it?” Elinore said. Robbi wondered if Mal had seen that same mad gleam in their mother’s eyes, that same eagerness to explain the unexplainable. “That’s the beauty of it. The element of chance. Chance put Laura in Guy’s path at exactly the wrong time, so let chance determine Guy’s fate. If the poison kills him, justice is served. If it doesn’t, mercy wins. He has another opportunity to do the right thing.”
“And if he doesn’t, Chance gets another shot at him?”
“Exactly.” Elinore smiled. “It’s like letting the gods decide.”
“All right,” Mal says. “I get that Guy was responsible for Laura’s death, and you were the one who tried to kill Guy, but who tried to kill you?”
I know the answer even before Joanne says, “She did it herself, to keep from being a suspect. But I have no idea how she did it. Pretty hard to stab yourself in the back.”
Elinore smiles, an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile, and says, “A woman has to keep some secrets.”
But it’s not much of a secret to a world-famous detective. It’s taken me longer than I would have liked, but I finally parse it out. The scratches in the arrow nock and the nicks in Joanne’s feed room door frame tell the tale. She used the door to hold the arrow in place while she backed up onto it. It must have taken an immense will to do such a thing, but then, will is something all super villains have plenty of.
It was only April, but it felt like the end of the longest summer of Robbi’s life. She had already said goodbye to Dale, who gave her a brotherly hug and said, “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll keep in touch,” and to Cara, who accepted her apology with a half-hearted hug.
“Dale was right,” Cara had said. “I need some time to get my head together. See if I can get past people thinking I might be a murderer.”
“And Guy?” Robbi asked.
Cara shrugged and climbed into her little Suburu. “I guess we’ll see. He knows my number.”
Old Reliable was packed and ready, but Robbi was procrastinating. She didn’t really want to go. As if reading her mind, Mal said, “It’s just until you finish up your dissertation. And five hours isn’t all that far. I can come and visit, if I can bring Tuck and Miss Scarlett.”
“You’d better. I miss them both already. Especially Tuck.” She loved Scarlett, of course. How could she not love the dog who had kept Mal from drowning? But Tuck adored Robbi, and the feeling was mutual.
Mal put his hands on her waist and turned her to face him. “I miss you already.”
They avoided talking about Elinore. She was currently receiving treatment at a psychiatric hospital, near enough for Mal to visit, far enough away that he wouldn’t feel obliged to visit every day. “She‘s still my sister,” he’d said, and even though Robbi felt more than a little uncomfortable with a potential sister-in-law who was a criminal mastermind, she loved him for it.
Robbi was loading Falcor’s cooler into the back of Old Reliable when Joanne and Miller strolled up, holding hands. They were a strange and mismatched couple, but their differences somehow complemented each other. In the short time they’d been dating, Joanne had blossomed, and Miller had grown almost bold.
Joanne scooped Robbi up in a bear hug and spun her around. “We made it! Got the last donation ten minutes ago.”
“The whole thing?”
Miller grinned. “We just made the transfer—enough to pay Guy’s debt in full and b…buy out Hammond’s shares, plus Dale’s and Cara’s, with a little l…left in the faire’s coffers until it’s needed.”
Joanne nodded. “So, whatever they decide about Guy’s case, at least we know he’s not going to be wearing concrete overshoes.”
Mal, watching on the sidelines, piped in. “Unless he gets himself in trouble again.”
Robbi didn’t think he would. Not the same kind of trouble anyway. His contrition had seemed genuine. “What do you think they’ll do to him?”
Joanne winked. “Depends how many women are on the jury. Seriously, though, I think they’ll buy his story about Laura, but the coverup will hurt him. Maybe not as bad as it will hurt Hammond, but some.”
Robbi wasn’t sure about that. Hammond was well known in Sherwood. And when he hobbled onto the witness stand with the help of his cane, at least a few of the jury members were bound to feel some sympathy.
“It’s the c…coverup that gets ’em,” Miller agreed, and added, “Then again, Guy did call the cops. A crooked cop, but still. It m…might count for something.”
“Maybe,” Robbi said. “But then what?”
She thought he’d serve a year, maybe two, or maybe weeks, if the jury fell for his roguish charm. But with no shares of his own, he had no claim to the faire, unless the remaining Rennies agreed to give him one. They weren’t sure they would. Forgive
ness, if it came, would have to be earned. In the meantime, they’d renamed his castle: Bainbridge Castle, after Laura.
Robbi thought her friend would like that.
The morning Tammy is supposed to pick me up, I go to visit Tuck. He’s in his pen, which comes as a surprise, but the latch is broken and the gate is open, so I suppose it’s not so far from the norm as one might think. He’s nosing a plastic ball up a ramp and watching it come down a tube, a simple contraption Elinore made for him before all this trouble began. I know he’s missing her. In spite of her crimes, she was always good to him.
He perks up when he sees me, even though he knows this is goodbye. He makes a few pig jokes, which, naturally, lack sophistication, and I tell him a few cat jokes, which he doesn’t understand.
I tell him he’d make a good Watson.
Then I go to the parking lot to wait for Tammy. Mal and Robbi wait with me. I sit on Robbi’s lap and purr for her, and she rubs my ears. Goodbyes are hard, but as all animals know, they’re an important part of life. Robbi has been a good friend, but she isn’t my person. Maybe she and Mal will get a kitten.
A familiar car pulls into the lot and parks. I’m already running. Tammy, my Tammy, opens the door, and I leap inside.
Trouble, the famous black cat detective, is finally going home.
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped make this book a reality, especially my husband, Mike Hicks, for his eternal support and his engineering expertise; the real Robbie Bryan for lending his name to my heroine; Carolyn Haynes for inviting me on this great adventure; Jean Rabe for sharing her knowledge of law enforcement; Janet Deaver-Pack for her insights into the world of Renaissance Faires; and Tom Luck for his advice about the legalities of the faire shares. I'd also like to thank Michelle Honick, Jalana Hughes, Lynette Ingram, Pamela Schweglar, and Kay Tyler for their valuable input and encouragement; my brother, David Terrell, for the adventure that inspired Tuck; and Mom for being Mom. Thanks, too, to all the family and friends who have been there to offer support and encouragement. I treasure you all.
About the Author
Jaden Terrell is a Shamus Award finalist and the internationally published author of the Nashville-based Jared McKean series. She is a contributor to the Killer Nashville Noir anthology, International Thriller Writers’ The Big Thrill magazine, and Now Write! Mysteries, a collection of writing exercises published by Tarcher/Penguin for writers of crime fiction. A recipient of the 2017 Killer Nashville Builder Award, as well as the 2009 Magnolia Award and the 2017 Silver Quill Award for service to the Southeast Chapter of Mystery Writers of America, Terrell offers live and online workshops, coaching, and courses for writers. You can join Jaden’s Inner Circle for more news and a free gift.
www.jadenterrell.com
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Also by Jaden Terrell
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Trouble’s Double Contest Winner
Gus
This is Gustavo, but most people call him “Gus.” Those who know him best call him “Gussles Muscles” because he is so sleek and strong! Nobody can deny that Gus is super cool and super powerful now, but that wasn’t always the case.
Gus was born in central Florida, and for the first few weeks of his life he roamed the streets of Orlando. He was just a scared little kitten trying to make it in a town that was best known for its mouse. ...But Gus had a plan. He knew that if he learned how to strut around like a tiny little panther, and if he perfected his orchestral collection of bleeps, meeps, purrs, and meows, that the right hoomans would find him and give him his furrever home....which he would then rule with an iron paw for all of eternity! Gus’ plan worked like a charm!
Within a few weeks Gus was on his way to his new home with his hooman mom and dad; it was love at first sight. Gus wasted no time in exploring his new abode. He jumped on all the counters (overriding dad’s earlier declaration that he would not be allowed on them), zoomed up and down the stairs at lightning speed, and climbed on everything he could find.
On his second day in the house, Gus’ mom came home to find him dangling from the blinds by his back leg. Gus’ mom and dad were really scared that he had seriously hurt himself, but he made a full recovery. Ever since that day he’s had a little strip of white fur on his paw where it got caught.
Gus’ hoomans refer to it as his “racing stripe,” and it serves as a constant reminder of what a rascal Gus can be! Gus is five years old now, and he can still be a speedy little trouble maker, but most of the time he is sweet, loving, and cuddly.
One of his favorite activities is puzzle time with mom. He likes it so much, in fact, that his go-to move is to sit on the puzzle so that mom can’t finish it! It may seem like a ridiculous claim to suggest that Gus is the most amazing and powerful cat in all the land, but in this case, it is quite true. It is an honor and a privilege to be one of Gus’ subjects, and we serve him joyfully. We love you, Gus.
Heather Parola
Familiar Legacy
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