Damsels in Distress (23 page)

“No, Ms. Malloy, that is not possible.”

I allowed the tiniest hint of desperation to enter my voice. “Please, Jorgeson. I feel faint and my stomach is in turmoil. Salvador was a friend, in a way. I am overwhelmed by his death and this horrible act of violence. I’ll set my alarm for seven and be in your office at eight o’clock. I’ll make the coffee and bring some muffins.”

Benny did not help matters. “You and Salvador were friends? I would have thought you had enough sense not to be seduced by that artistic posturing. The paintings in his living room are nothing but nineteen-seventies rip-offs. Everything he did was a rip-off. Everything! All he did was find his niche market and exploit it. That was his only real talent. That, and insinuating himself with adoring women.”

Jorgeson gazed at me but said nothing.

“Now wait just a minute!” I said, trying not to sound shrill. “I was not seduced by anyone, including Salvador. What’s more, I didn’t admire him or his so-called talent. I felt sorry for him. Who wouldn’t, considering the unpleasant reality that his only purported friends were you ARSE wackos? You’re all a bunch of manipulators, hiding behind your grandiose titles and silly clothes.”

“That’s not true!” Benny snapped.

“Oh, really, Sir Kenneth of Gweek?” I took a breath, aware of Jorgeson’s bemused expression. As much as I wanted to grab a handful of Benny’s orange beard and give it a yank, I realized such a gesture would not get me any closer to home in the next few hours. “If you see any dragons on your way to the farmhouse, be sure and slay them. It will certainly impress the college girls.”

“Maybe so,” Benny said. He headed up the slope, followed at a discreet distance by a uniformed officer who kept glancing over his shoulder at the woods.

“He’s more likely to encounter lions, tigers, and bears,” I said. “Well, bears, anyway.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” asked Jorgeson.

“Lions are indigenous to Africa, and tigers to India. I’ve been told there are small black bears in this-”

“I was thinking more of your use of the words ‘manipulators’ and ‘purported.’ It sounded to me as though you have quite a few insights that might be of value to the investigation.”

“Tomorrow I will be brimming with insights, all of which I will share in the most intricate detail. Right now I’m too shocked to pull my thoughts together. You may not get much from the others, either. I don’t know how any of them truly felt about Salvador, but he was a significant part of the group.” For some reason I couldn’t explain (or justify), I was reluctant to mention Edward’s revelation at the banquet. I most certainly had no idea how Edward felt about Salvador, since I didn’t know if Edward had confronted him previously or was just hoping for the best. One of the others would tell Jorgeson when he interviewed them. I would claim it was merely a minor sin of omission brought on by the trauma of the murder.

“All right, Ms. Malloy,” Jorgeson said as he stood up. “I’ll let you go home, and we’ll talk tomorrow. I can’t spare an officer to take you, but I assume you can get a ride with Caron and Inez.”

“You’re letting them leave, too?”

“We can’t keep all these people here all night. We’re getting a list of names and contact numbers, and telling them we’ll need statements in a few days. Right now I’m going to focus on the members of this screwy club. What did you call it?”

“ARSE. The Association for Renaissance Scholarship and…Enlightenment, I think. It’s a national organization. This is the fief- dom of Avalon.” I brushed bits of hay off my gown as I rose. “Do you want me to come to the police department in the morning, or shall I wait for your call?”

Jorgeson surveyed the crime scene, then sat back down on the bale of hay. “I’ll be lucky to get home by dawn, and there will be a ton of paperwork waiting for me on my desk. Let’s plan on meeting tomorrow afternoon, Ms. Malloy.”

“As early as possible,” I said. “Peter’s getting home about six, and I’d like time to get ready for our date.”

I couldn’t see his expression as he looked up at me. “Probably about one o’clock or so. I’ll let you know.”

“Is something wrong, Jorgeson? Have you heard from Peter? He is coming tomorrow, isn’t he?”

“Run along, Ms. Malloy,” he said. “I need to find out if we’ve found any evidence.”

“Fine, then.” I walked back up the slope toward the tents, keenly aware that he hadn’t answered my questions. Peter had had ample opportunities to call me during the last few days if his plans had changed. He knew the telephone number at the bookstore, as well as my home number. I stopped and looked back, but Jorgeson was no longer on the bale of hay.

When I reached the food court, I went over to the stage and whispered Edward’s name. There was no reply. Clouds had covered the moon, and now the area was even darker. I edged forward and promptly banged my knee against the edge of the stage. Resisting the impulse to curse, I again whispered Edward’s name. He could have gone to the battle arena to wait for me, I supposed, but I was no longer in the mood to be taken into his confidence. Not that I ever had, it occurred to me. The best he’d offered thus far was a proposal for a scene. Characters, setting, and dialogue had not been disclosed. His hints had led to me to an erroneous conclusion—but not an illogical one. Had that been his intention since he’d first come into the bookstore two weeks ago? Or, to his credit, it might have never entered his mind that I would even consider Carlton to be a likely suspect. Edward was young, I reminded myself, and confused.

And I was not so young, but decidedly confused. I desperately wanted to go home, slip into something less medieval, and sleep.

“Good night, sweet prince,” I whispered, then went to find Caron and Inez.

Chapter Eleven

C
aron and Inez were sitting at a picnic table, pointedly ignoring everyone around them. I told one of the uniformed officers who was scribbling down names and phone numbers that we had Sergeant Jorgeson’s permission to leave, then hauled the girls out of the Royal Pavilion before I could be ordered to produce a hall pass.

“I hope you weren’t lying,” Caron said as she led me toward a pasture well behind the farmhouse. “I don’t want the police pounding on my bedroom door in the middle of the night. That would be Too Much.”

“It’s already been too much,” Inez grumbled.

“It certainly was for the murder victim,” I said. “How far is the car?”

“Miles,” Caron said, as if we were setting off on a transcontinental trek. “I can’t believe we don’t even have a flashlight. If I fall and break my ankle, it’s your fault, Mother. I’ll be in traction for three months, and hobble on crutches all semester. You’ll have to rent a maid of honor for the wedding.”

“Why would it be my fault?”

Caron tripped on a clump of weeds but recovered without an orthopedic catastrophe. “Because you didn’t tell us to bring a flashlight. Emily’s mother gave her a little one to keep in her purse. Rhonda Maguire and her circle can hang on to their boyfriends’ arms.”

“The pirates aren’t too steady on their feet,” I commented. “Didn’t you notice?”

Inez smiled. “Miss Thackery did. If she hadn’t needed them for entertainment, she would have sent them home. She may waft around in her fancy dresses and twinkle at everybody, but she can be really mean. You know how you told us to get Edward away from the pavilion? Well, we were sort of just standing behind the tents when she came over and slapped him.”

“His head nearly flew off,” added Caron. “I don’t think she noticed us at first. When she realized we were there, she mumbled something about it being for his own good and took off for the farmhouse. The three of us just stood there and gaped at each other for like forever.”

I tried to envision the scene. “Was Edward hysterical before she ... ah, tried to calm him down?”

“No, not really. He was mostly stunned, and blubbering about how he couldn’t believe this had happened. It was way too pathetic. I mean, it’s too bad that man got killed, but there was no excuse for him to get so carried away over it.”

“Did you listen to his ballad?” I asked her.

“Yeah, like everybody else.” She stopped and thought for a long moment. “The dead guy was his father?”

“Apparently he thought so,” I said.

“How was I supposed to know that? Nobody said anything about it.”

“Nobody knew,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not sure Salvador did, either.”

Inez clutched my arm. “What’s that?” she whispered. “Over there by the cars. Something moved.”

Caron snickered. “A cow, Inez. This is a pasture, remember? That’s usually where cows hang out. If we were in a desert, it’d be a camel, but it’s not hot and sandy. I saw you tasting the mead. Maybe you’re tipsy.”

“I only took one sip,” Inez said hotly. “That was not a cow.”

“So you’re saying it was a camel?”

I shoved both of them into motion. “I don’t care if it was a cow riding on a camel. I’m ready to go home.” I did not add that I intended to make a long-distance call to Rhode Island.

When we arrived at the car, I realized I’d left my purse in the farmhouse, which meant I didn’t have my driver’s license with me. Caron drove us to my apartment. Conversation was nonexistent. As I came into the kitchen, I caught a whiff of soy sauce and ginger. I followed the scent into the living room. Peter was sprawled on the sofa, holding the remote control. Carry-out cartons of Chinese food, a plate, and chopsticks cluttered the coffee table. I was faintly aware of Caron and Inez scuttling down the hall to the former’s bedroom.

“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” I said inanely.

“Is that your idea of a warm welcome?”

I continued to stare at him as if he were an apparition. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I thought you were still in Newport. You told me you weren’t coming home until tomorrow. I made dinner reservations.”

Peter pretended to ponder this. “Then the only thing for me to do is go spend the night at the airport. I will admit I was hoping for a bed and some cozy companionship, but if you say tomorrow, then tomorrow it must be.” He put down the remote. “There’s still some sesame chicken and garlic shrimp, and a spoonful of fried rice. Help yourself.”

I grabbed him before he could get to his feet and pushed him back on the sofa. My welcome was more than warm. After ten minutes or so, I sat up and ran my fingers through my disheveled curls. “Was that more in line with your expectations, Super Cop?”

He put his arms around me and expressed his appreciation for another few minutes. He has many talents, and my appreciation rivaled his. Eventually he surfaced. “How was your day at the fair, milady? Were you pursued by effeminate earls and fat, middle-aged barons?”

“You may wish you’d stayed in Newport,” I said, then told him what had happened. “Jorgeson’s out there now, hoping the murderer dropped his business card at the scene. He seemed overwhelmed by the number of potential witnesses. There were a hundred or so people at the banquet, and a lot of them will recall friends they saw during the day. If the medical examiner puts the death prior to six o’clock, then any one of five or six hundred people could have done it.”

“Damnation,” Peter said. “I put some beer in the refrigerator. Why don’t you get me one, and make yourself a drink? I’d better call Jorgeson and find out what’s going on.”

“Fine,” I said mendaciously. I left him on the sofa with his cell phone, and went to my bedroom to change into shorts and a T-shirt. The hooks on the back of the gown were undone during the episode on the sofa (further elaboration will not be forthcoming), so it took me only a few minutes. I then knocked on Caron’s door. She was still wearing her garb, although in the light I could see stains on the skirt and sleeves. Inez was seated on the bed with the phone, assuring her parents that she was safe. Their noses were less sunburned than mine, since they’d been in the stall most of the day. Nevertheless, Caron had acquired a few new freckles
_ģ

“Did you know Peter was coming today?” I asked her in a low voice.

“Maybe.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Why would I? It’s not like he was going to catch you in bed with someone else. Are you afraid he’ll find all the empty scotch bottles in the trash?”

I wasn’t sure about the legal definition of infanticide; there might have been a cutoff birthday, when the crime became homicide. Justifiable homicide, I might add. “There is precisely one empty bottle in the trash, and that’s partly because Luanne came by one evening and we sat on the balcony discussing Nietzsche and Schopenhauer.”

“I’m sure it was fascinating. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to change clothes. I haven’t been able to breathe all day. Can we keep the phone?”

“Just don’t call Nietzsche,” I said. “Overseas calls are expensive.”

Peter was still on his cell phone when I returned with a beer and a drink. I didn’t bother to listen, but I could see that he wasn’t pleased. As I put the beer in front of him, he shot me a look that did not bode well. Jorgeson was clearly telling tales not of damsels in distress and knights in shining armor, but of Lady Clarissa and her involvement. I was very glad I’d changed clothes.

After yet another look, he went out to the balcony to continue his conversation. I was gathering up the cartons when Inez, now dressed in shorts and a wrinkled blouse, came down the hall. “It’s going to be on the news,” she said, blinking at me. “Carrie’s parents told her that the local station is promising a live story at ten o’clock. Will it be okay if Caron and I come out and watch it?”

“By all means,” I muttered. “Are you the volunteer who sticks her toe in the river rumored to be infested with giant leeches?”

“Something like that.” She fled back down the hall.

I dumped the cartons in the trash, noting with satisfaction that the only other bottle besides the scotch held the dregs of moldy pickle relish. I washed my hands and was on my way to the living room when Peter cut me off.

“I’m going out there,” he said. “I’m not officially back in town, but Jorgeson sounded harried. He said you could give me directions. He also said you knew the victim, as well as all the other members of this goofy club.”