Treacherous Toys (14 page)

“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.

“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.

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.

I opened the door, my legs shaking from the effort it took to stand so still. I supposed I was also nervous about being caught there. Whoever said eavesdroppers never hear good about themselves was right. I looked at the threatening note again and stuffed it into the purse that hung at my waist.

I walked to the Village Square and sat beside the Good Luck Fountain, listening to the minstrels as they played on the green.

I wasn’t sure why I’d felt like I knew Chris and Christine so well. We’d just met when Chris was killed. I really didn’t know much about them at all. And what I did know—Chris sleeping around, Christine having an affair with Harry—I didn’t like. How could I be so wrong about two people? I felt stupid and naïve.

Chase came and sat beside me. “I just came back from helping King Arthur find his missing sword. Phil at the Sword Spotte had hidden it because Arthur refused to do a commercial for Phil, who made the Excalibur sword. I’ve been looking for it all day. Visitors missed all those exciting moments with Arthur pulling the sword from the stone.”

I sighed, glad he seemed to be over his funk. “That’s great. Really great.”

He put his arm around me along the back of the bench. “What’s wrong? I take it no one has officially confessed to killing Father Christmas. You didn’t work on it very long.”

“It’s far worse.” I told him about Christine and Harry. “Detective Almond might be right. It doesn’t look good for Christine.”

Chase thought about it. “I don’t believe it. If I had that much life insurance on you, I’d push you out of a tall window or drown you in a bathtub—something that
looked
like an accident. This is so obvious. They had to know there would be a big investigation.”

Even though I’d thought the same thing, the way he’d phrased it made me even more depressed. “I don’t think most people’s minds work that way. Besides, they say most criminals aren’t very smart. Maybe they were so much in love, they were willing to give up everything so they could be together.”

“Harry will never leave Livy. He likes to fool around, but the two of them know what they’re doing. Harry knows he’d have to give up his position if he left Livy. If Christine thinks he loves her enough to give up his life, she’s got another thought coming.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I protested. “How am I supposed to get a confession from a killer if I don’t know who the killer is?”

“I’d say you need to clear your mind for a while,” he suggested. “I could use your help with vegetable justice. What say you?”

“I’d say lead me hither, good sir. I shall do my best to aid you.”

It seemed Adventure Land was worried about losing customers while Father Christmas took a break for lunch. That’s why they’d ordered the parade of animals, put an
extra dozen fairies out on the cobblestones, and asked Chase to do vegetable justice a few extra times each day.

The stocks by the Dungeon were ready, along with baskets of overripe tomatoes, old lettuce, and some squishy peppers. Nothing hard enough to hurt anyone—but just solid enough to put on a good show.

Sometimes, visitors asked that vegetable justice be administered to one or more of the people who came with them to the Village. When that didn’t happen, Chase recruited Village residents to stage a performance of a grievance.

That was the case when I came down from the Dungeon in my old trousers and boy’s shirt. I was the bailiff’s errand boy who fetched and carried for him. I would help out with vegetable justice by putting the offender into the stocks and riling up the crowd so that (hopefully) everyone had a good time.

Because no visitor had asked for vegetable justice, Chase had recruited a few knights in training, a few of the Merry Men from Sherwood, and a few varlets and madmen who were wandering around.

Chase came out in his black robe and white wig. A pirate from the
Queen’s Revenge
was brought forward in plastic chains. He’d been accused of stealing and causing mayhem in the Village. “How do you plead?” Chase asked the new pirate, Bucky. I didn’t recognize him, so he had to be new.

“I plead innocent, though I don’t give a rat’s ass for your justice.” He made the mistake of spitting on the ground. That led to a round of spitting from everyone else involved. Residents led the way, and visitors, thinking it was something interesting and fun, followed. I don’t know why, but spitting had evolved into a popular sport at these events.

“Great,” I whispered to Chase. “We could be here all day at this rate.”

But as usual, a large crowd of visitors began to join the group to find out what was going on. They were soon booing the pirate and yelling “Huzzah!” when the knights in training stated their case against the pirate.

By the time Chase had passed sentence for the crime—vegetable justice to be administered at once—there were at least a hundred visitors who were ready to take up old vegetables to throw at the pirate.

I did my impression of a young helper and led the pirate to the stocks. There, his chains were removed and his neck and arms were locked into place. “Comfortable?” I asked him as the crowd began to fill their hands with vegetables.

“I guess. No one ever said anything about this. Should I expect to do this every day?”

“Probably not. Most of the time, the visitors want to be the ones in the stock.”

“Really? Why would anyone
want
to do this?”

“Who knows? Just close your eyes tight and don’t open your mouth. It’ll be over quickly.”

With vegetables in hand, everyone proceeded to throw them. Lucky for the pirate that they were soft and most of the throws missed him. He was still covered in tomato juice when it was over, but everyone had a good time. Several of the visitors suddenly remembered that they had disagreements with someone they were there with that day. Chase set up three more vegetable justice events with them.

“What ho, my good servant!” He hammed it up for the crowds. “Mind your manners or you’ll be next in the stocks.”

The visitors ate it up like bread bowls. The residents
faded back to their jobs since they weren’t needed anymore. Everything was right on the cobblestones.

I spent most of the afternoon helping Chase before he had to abandon his part of the event. He was called away when a few girls got carried away by the excitement of the Village and took off their clothes to climb in the Good Luck Fountain.