Damsels in Distress (7 page)

“A soda will be fine.” I would have chosen wine, but it seemed wise to stick with something that was tamperproof.

After I’d been issued a can and a cup, I was escorted out to join the party. The room was encased by screened window panels to convert it into a sleeping porch, once considered a necessity during hot summer nights. Now it held a hodgepodge of wicker and ladderback chairs with splintery seats. Two card tables had been pushed together and covered with a vinyl tablecloth for the potluck offerings. There was a preponderance of undefinable casseroles, along with the obligatory potato salad, a plate of curling cheese slices, and a bowl of fruit. Flies buzzed about, as unsure as I was about the wisdom of sampling any of the fare.

Fiona clung to my arm. “This is Claire Malloy, who owns the bookstore on Thurber Street. Claire, you’ve already met Julius and Edward.”

Julius, who was perched on a low stool, smiled nervously. From a corner, Edward fluttered his fingers at me. He wore a faded cotton shirt and cutoffs, and did not appear to be in the mood to entertain us with juggling and magic tricks. I hoped he had no intention of pulling me aside for further confidences about his father. All I intended to do was survive the meeting and depart without ptomaine poisoning.

Fiona gestured at an elderly couple sitting to one side. “Glynnis and William Threet, known also as Lord and Lady Bicklesham. Glynnis makes wonderful tapestries.”

Tears began to dribble down Glynnis’s cheeks as she looked at me. “Needlework keeps me busy these days. I used to work at the admissions office at the college, but after we lost Percival...”

Her husband handed her his handkerchief. “Try not to think about it, my dear.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said weakly.

“Ah, thank you,” he said with a small cough. “You’re welcome to come by and visit him. We had him stuffed so he can be with us in the living room.”

Glynnis wiped her eyes. “He makes a lovely footstool.”

I glanced at Fiona, who merely said, “And you met our gallant knights. Anderson Peru and Benny Stallings.”

Anderson rose from a wicker rocking chair. “I had the honor of meeting her ladyship yesterday,” he said, “although she may not have fond memories of our encounter. I would not fault her for that. I was behaving with great gallantry when I was beset upon by a lumpish, knotty-pated moldwarp with the manners of a pig herder. I had no choice but to beat him senseless in the ensuing brawl.”

“The hell you did,” said Benny as he winked at me. Even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he was a bearish man, with thick arms and an obvious fondness for beer. I mentally revised my assessment of them; Anderson was sexy, but Benny radiated unadulterated animal lust. He would not have been a suitable candidate to teach at a girls’ school. “You were thrashed until you mewled for mercy, you beslubbering puttock. Only out of pity for Your Grace’s weakened condition did I allow you to concede. I do hope milady understands that now that I’ve defended her honor, I have every intention of claiming my prize.”

“Just what did you juvenile delinquents do?” demanded the woman sitting next to Anderson. “Every time you put on armor, your brains shut down and your testicles take over.” She looked me over carefully, as if I were guilty of provoking them. “I’m Lanya Peru.”

Caron had described her well, although she was now wearing a peasant blouse that exposed her heavily freckled shoulders and ample cleavage. Her hair was braided and pinned into a sloppy bun, exposing gray hairs at the edges of her round face. When dressed in her medieval finery, she would make a most imposing duchess, I thought. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Lanya.” The speaker, a cleanshaven man with pale blue eyes and the sculpted cheekbones of a malnourished poet, was sprawled in a wicker chair. His sandyblond hair was untidy, but in what I suspected was a studiously intentional way. He took a sip of wine, then made a face and set the cup down on the floor. “They’re no more dangerous than Twee- dledee and Tweedledum.”

“Salvador Davis,” said Fiona, her fingers pressing into my arm. “He’s the one who’s dangerous, or so I’ve heard.”

He shrugged. “Also known as Lord Galsworth, Baron of Firth- forth, and master of the archers’ guild. Should you ever desire to have an apple shot off your head, I shall be overjoyed to oblige you. Come, you must sit by me, my fair Claire, and tell me more about yourself. There is a serenity in your features, not unlike that seen in the finest Italian Renaissance depictions of the Madonna.”

I did not tell him that my so-called serenity was nothing more than paralytic panic. They were entirely too intense, and staring at me as if I were a shoplifter who’d been caught by a security guard. Anderson and Benny were both leering, and Salvador’s smile was predatory, if not outright carnivorous. Lanya seemed to be considering the likelihood that I was a wanton bar wench intent on seducing her husband and any other man within my grasp. The same thought must have been passing through Fiona’s mind, since she was squeezing my arm so tightly that I felt my fingers turning numb. Glynnis and William eyed me nervously, as if I’d been responsible for Percival’s demise. Edward seemed to be waiting for me to say or do something of great significance. Julius was the only one who showed no interest in me, and instead was frowning at Fiona. I wished I were wearing Sally’s cloak so that I could put on the hood and vanish in a puff of smoke. I spotted a chair at the edge of the circle, pried off Fiona’s hand, and sat down.

Fiona remained standing. “I thought Angie was coming tonight. Has anybody heard from her?”

“Who’s Angie?” asked Glynnis. “Is she a member of the fief- dom? Why haven’t we met her? Or have we met her?”

“I’m quite sure we haven’t,” said William firmly.

“None of us has,” Lanya said. “She moved to Farberville earlier in the summer, she told me, and found my name and number in the ARSE national directory. When we decided to hold the Ren Fair, I called her to see if she might want to participate. She’s had some training as a dancer and agreed to take on the fairies. I gave her Fiona’s number.”

Fiona nodded. “She was very nice about it. I offered to escort the girls to her house, but she said that she preferred them to come on their own. I’ve been so busy that I was grateful not to have something else on my list.”

“So no one has actually met Angie?” murmured Anderson. “Did you ask her for references?”

Lanya glared at him. “She volunteered, which is reference enough for me. She called this morning to say she sprained her ankle yesterday during the dance class with the fairies, and wants to stay off it as much as possible. I would have volunteered to go to the grocery store for her, but I had to stay here all day to meet with various people. I’ve arranged for enough small tents for the vendors and concessions, but I’m still working on a large tent for the Royal Pavilion. There are a lot of weddings and family reunions this month. It would have been much easier if we’d had more notice, Fiona.”

“You can’t blame her for that,” Julius said, doing his best to bluster.

Lanya glared at him. “I wasn’t blaming anyone, Julius. I was merely pointing out that most events of this magnitude are planned months in advance.”

Salvador leaned forward and ruffled Julius’s hair. “Back off, Lanya, the little fellow is just defending whatever vestiges remain of his lady’s honor. We can’t all don armor and smack each other with swords. What we must do, Julius, is assign you a name and title befitting your talents. How about…Squire Squarepockets? That has a nice ring, don’t you think? Solid, dependable, like a village greengrocer or a bank clerk.”

“You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are,” Fiona said coldly. She sat down next to Julius, who was looking at the floor.

“May I suggest,” Anderson said, “that we get back to business? Lanya has the tents and concessions under control. Julius will see to the technical systems and will liaison with the media for whatever coverage we can get. Fiona is in charge of scheduling the stage entertainment during the day and also the banquet performances. Edward will herd the performers to their proper venues. Salvador is in charge of the archery. Benny and I will oversee the sword fights and contact the adjoining fief doms to find out if we can scrounge up knights. Glynnis and William have agreed to supervise the decorations. Any questions?”

“The schedule will be finalized by Monday,” said Fiona. “Since this was my idea, I feel as though I should help during the actual event.”

He sat back and crossed his legs. “You, dear, will have your hands full with your students. They will all need to arrive at seven in the morning to help set everything up and decorate. During the day, the pirates, fairies, and musicians will be expected to perform on stage, so check with Edward and make sure they understand when and where to assemble. Be careful to keep them away from the alcoholic spirits, especially during the banquet. The Duchess will not be amused if one of the serving wenches barfs in her lap.”

“I anticipate no problems in seeing that they behave according to Your Grace’s wishes,” she said.

Benny chuckled. “And you certainly should be aware of those.”

Fiona abruptly rose and went into the kitchen. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed her tightly clenched fists. After an awkward moment, Lanya suggested that we help ourselves to the food. She offered her arm to Julius, who glanced at the kitchen doorway but obediently stood up to escort her to the makeshift serving table. Benny and Anderson jostled each other and exchanged insults as they began to pile spoonfuls of the bizarre casseroles on paper plates. I took a cracker and a few grapes and sat back down. Edward had remained in the corner, watching the group with the impartiality of a surveillance camera. It took me a moment to realize that Salvador had disappeared, most likely into the kitchen.

Everyone was still chattering around the table when I heard a car drive away. I had no idea if the driver was Fiona, Salvador, both of them, or one of the barbarian Peru children, but it seemed like an excellent idea. I caught Lanya before she could sit down, and said, “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight. I hope the Renaissance Fair raises a lot of money for Safe Haven. I really must go now.”

“So early? I was looking forward to having a nice talk with you. Even though we’ve lived in Farberville for more than ten years, I’m so busy out here that I rarely come into town. Your daughter hinted that you’re quite a remarkable woman.”

“She exaggerates,” I said lightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Anderson joined us. “What a shame that we shall not have the pleasure of your company. Are you keeping late hours at the bookstore? You must be nervous by yourself after dark. Sometimes I have to go back to the office to straighten out a mixup, and I’m keenly aware of every little noise in the building.”

“I’m quite a remarkable woman,” I said, “or so it’s been said. Good night, everybody.”

I hurried through the kitchen and living room, both unoccupied, and out to my car. I was fumbling through my purse for the keys when Lanya loomed at the window beside me. My undeniable quick wit failed me, and all I could do was look up at her.

She thrust a basket at me. “These are a few things for Angie to tide her over until I can shop for her. She lives just around the corner from you in a small blue house with white shutters. Would you please drop them off for me?”

At that point I would have gladly given her all my money and jewelry, including the discreet diamond engagement ring on my left hand, just to get away. “Sure, glad to,” I said as I snatched the basket out of her hands. I jammed the key into the ignition switch, started the engine, and drove away as if I were being pursued by a ferocious clan of Scottish warriors, blue theatrical makeup and all.

When I reached the highway, I stopped and looked at my watch. I had been at the meeting for all of half an hour, and would be home before eight o’clock unless I had a flat tire or got caught behind a gypsy caravan. Caron had mentioned that Inez was going with her parents to a lecture on the exhilarating developments in electronic card cataloging, which meant Caron would be on her own—and on the telephone. My daughter is a gifted liar when telling the truth is not to her advantage, but if Peter managed to call during a lull, she might very happily supply him with the details of my behavior the previous evening. I did not want to be there if he asked to speak to me.

I looked through the contents of the basket that Lanya had asked me to deliver to Angie, last name unknown. It contained a pint jar with a handwritten label proclaiming it to be red clover honey, a larger jar of mead, a loaf of bread, a bar of soap wrapped in torn tissue paper, and several plastic bags of dried herbs and spices. Since nothing would spoil, I decided to drop off the basket in the morning.

After a quick stop at a liquor store to buy a bottle of wine, I went to Luanne’s apartment above her shop and pounded on the door. She opened it, a slice of pizza in her free hand.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” she said as I came inside. “The pizza just got here. I’ll open the wine.”

I sat down at the kitchen table. I was hungry, but the idea of eating did not appeal. “How long did you think I’d last?”

“Considering the snit you’re in, no more than ten minutes.” She brought two glasses of wine and sat down across from me. “Caron called me.”

I took a drink and shuddered. “I should have known better than to take the advice of a salesclerk with a ponytail.”

“Why do I have an eerie sensation that you’re avoiding the subject?” Luanne asked, gazing steadily at me. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. You’re entitled to your feelings. However, we’re going to talk about it anyway, even if it means I have to tie you to the chair and pour this entire gallon of cheap wine down your throat. So what did he say?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. The Duke of Glenbarrens? Sir Kenneth of Gweek? Pester the Jester? My accountant? The sales rep from Truculent Press? The college kid who wanted to buy a guide to growing marijuana for fun and profit?”

“Peter—and I don’t mean O’Toole, the pumpkin eater, or the rabbit.”