Wicked Weaves (3 page)

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Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim

BOOK: Wicked Weaves
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A large group of visitors entered the shop. They were dressed in heavy medieval clothing made from leather and velvet, even though the Weather Channel said it would be in the nineties. These were the diehard medieval fantasy visitors. Not everyone gave up modern clothing to come here. A few of them carried real bows and swords. The only restriction on weapons in the Village was that they had to be something you could’ve owned in the 1500s. No visitor could carry a modern gun.
I let them look around as I talked to Chase. “I’m working as Mary Shift’s apprentice making baskets.”
“Excellent! I could use a basket at the dungeon. Maybe you could make one for me.”
I took his remark in stride. Anyone who wears a size twelve shoe, even though it’s a size twelve
narrow
, has to be realistic. Men who looked like Chase didn’t date women who looked like me. Not that I
wanted
to date him. He was like my brother. I repeated the mantra over and over to protect myself.
“It’s good to see you, Jessie. You should come visit more often during the year.” He smiled at me, and his braid fell across his shoulder. “Meeting every summer like this is hard on my love life.”
I laughed. I’m sure I was supposed to. Chase was a flirt. I told myself that to keep from being a slobbering mess around him. I’ve known him for so long, but I still don’t know much about him. “What are
you
doing? Have you seen any thieves or scoundrels today?”
Chase looked down at his tight jeans and the T-shirt covering what I knew to be his washboard abs. “I’m looking for a costume right now. They seem to be in short supply this summer. I think we have extra workers.”
I sighed and stared at the ceiling behind his head. “I hear the wizard has two apprentices this year.”
That was brilliant, Jessie.
The sound of trumpets, heralding the king or queen, or both, taking a royal turn through the Village, interrupted us. There was no way either one of us was going anywhere for a few minutes. A royal stroll came complete with either gentlemen or ladies-in-waiting and other courtiers, a minstrel or two and sometimes even a jester. That meant hundreds of people with cameras lined up to take their pictures. Both the king and queen loved being photographed and could pose for hours.
So I was stuck with Chase, who smiled at me and continued to make polite conversation. The visitors in the shop quit fondling the baskets and rushed to the big windows that faced the street to see what was going on. I glanced toward the back stairs, hoping Mary might decide to come in and watch the spectacle of the royal couple getting free lemonade from the shop next door. But I didn’t see her at the back door. She was too smart and experienced for that.
“I think our queen, Livy, has put on a few pounds,” Chase observed. “Either that or she needs a new royal corset tightener.”
“I’m sure she’d be glad to let
you
have that position.”
“I don’t think so.” He straightened my shawl. “I’m busy looking at baskets.”
Before I could answer, a sharp screech came from beside Lolly’s Lemonade Shoppe. I ran out the back door and saw Livy collapse to her knees. “We do believe this man is dead,” she said. “Someone fetch our smelling salts.”
Two
At first I thought it was part of the act. Like I said, it’s hard to tell sometimes, and not just for the tourists, either. Half of the time, I’m not sure what’s real and what’s illusion. Of course, I have that problem even when I’m
not
at the Village.
Chaos broke out around the queen as all of her court rushed to her side and the visitors with cameras followed them. Shutters were clicking, but the sun was so bright there were no flashes.
There was only a small walkway between buildings in the Village. Most of the time, you could find the people who worked there sitting around eating lunch or smoking cigarettes in that space. One summer they kept the trash cans there, but the smell drove people away. So they put the trash cans against the back wall and left the space empty between buildings. Once in a while, we had a problem with kids hanging out there trying to get lost in the crowd in the evening so they could spend a night in the Village. Chase always caught them.
Anyone walking by could’ve seen this man. He was sitting against the wall on the ground, his head hanging forward, arms dangling at his sides. I stepped around the queen, who was still on the ground but at a safe distance from him. He looked dead. If he was breathing, I couldn’t see it. Maybe Livy was right for once.
I hoped he was asleep. It had happened before. Sometimes older people got tired. The Village has a lot of walking. He was going to be embarrassed, if that were the case, but better embarrassed than dead.
I gritted my teeth and tugged at his leg, but he didn’t move. Maybe that was a good sign. At that point, it was hard to say. I didn’t want to touch him again, so I crouched close and pretended to be inspecting the area, hoping someone else would come and take charge.
“Let me take a look at him.” I saw Chase come up behind me, and I moved to one side. He might not
really
be a police officer, but he seemed like the best person to deal with the situation.
“He’s not dead,” I assured him and myself. “Livy goes into hysterics regularly. You know that.”
Chase agreed. “He might be sick.”
“Maybe. Or he could be asleep. He’s not dead. I don’t see any blood.”
“Good thing you’re not a medical examiner. There are plenty of ways to be dead that don’t make you lose any blood.” Chase knelt down and put his hand against the man’s throat. “There’s no pulse.”
It got very quiet around us, and I sneaked a glance back. No one was looking at Livy anymore. She’d even stopped pretending to swoon and was staring at the man with the rest of us. Everyone was waiting to see if he was going to wake up.
Chase moved back. The man fell toward me. I screeched and moved faster than I’d ever thought I could to get out of his way. He wasn’t moving all
that
fast, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
For another instant, there was complete silence. Then a general replica of my screech went through the crowd, and people ran in all directions. Livy lifted her heavy red velvet gown and took off after them, holding her crown in one hand and her scepter in the other.
Chase calmly reached across and laid the man’s body down. “Well, that answers that question. Livy was right for once. He’s dead.”
Carefully (I didn’t want to disturb the man on the ground), I moved farther away from him until my back was against the side wall of Wicked Weaves. “We need to call 911. I wouldn’t want to lie here and have to take your word for it that I was dead.”
“Relax,” Chase said. “I’ve worked as a paramedic. This man is definitely dead. What’s this around his throat?”
I looked. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t help it. I stepped close to Chase. There was something around the dead man’s throat. It looked like basket weaving. The long lines of sweetgrass intertwined with pine. No way was I getting any closer to find out for sure.
There was something familiar about the man, too. He was dressed like the man who’d been with Mary earlier. His face was different—it was thinner and longer—but the distinct old-fashioned style of the suit was the same.
I glanced around and realized Mary still wasn’t on the back step of the shop. I couldn’t find her face in the small group of people who hadn’t run away. She definitely wasn’t there. I hadn’t seen her come into the shop before Livy found the dead man. Where was she?
I looked up at Chase and started to mention it. Then I thought again. Whatever was going on might be a bad thing for Mary. It might not matter that she was gone. Just because the dead man
looked
like he was strangled by a piece of her particular basket weave didn’t mean anything.
“Stand back!” Roger Trent, the glass blower, ran up from the street. “Don’t touch anything. You should know better.”
Chase shook his head. “Too late.”
“What happened?” Roger took his past as a police officer very seriously and probably thought he should head up the investigation. He was an older man, still in good condition, whose shaved head was as sun-darkened as his face.
“He was sitting against the wall when we found him,” Chase explained. “Then he fell over. He doesn’t have a pulse, and he’s cold. He’s been dead for a while.”
“Livy said he was dead when she ran by me toward the castle.” Roger knelt beside the fallen man. “What did you see, Chase?”
“I didn’t see anything until I got out here. I was in the shop with Jessie when Livy started screaming. We both ran out at the same time. Jessie got here first.”
“It’s true.” I glanced at Chase, then at the wall, then at Roger. Anywhere not to look at the dead man. “You couldn’t see anything from inside. There aren’t windows facing this way.”
Roger examined the wall behind me, then looked back at the dead man. “Does anyone recognize him? Have you seen him before, Jessie? Was he in the shop?”
“I don’t recognize him.” I kept it quiet that his suit looked familiar. I hoped it didn’t make a difference. Anyone could wear a similar outfit. Especially here where so many people rented their clothes for the day. A black suit from the 1920s wouldn’t really fit the Renaissance theme, but I’ve seen weirder.
Chase responded, “I just got in from Scottsdale. I haven’t even had time to change. I can take a look at the video footage from the gate and find out how long he’s been in the Village.”
Roger leaned closer to the dead man without touching him. “Smells like he’s been drinking. I think this man was strangled by this stuff around his throat. It’s cutting into his skin. What is it?”
A shadow fell across the dead man’s face. “It’s my weave.” Mary’s voice was tight and flat.
“What do you mean?” Roger asked her. “Are you saying
you
strangled this man?”
“No,” she denied. “I said it was
my
weave. I didn’t say I know how it got there.”
Roger got up and glanced around the area. “The police are on their way. I know you tell a pretty good story, Mary. I hope you have a good tale to tell
them
. They’ll want to know how a piece of your weaving got around his throat if you didn’t put it there.”
“I got nothin’ to say. I’ve been here weaving all day.”
I knew she was lying. I liked her too well to call her on it, especially in front of Roger and Chase. It didn’t make any sense to me, anyway. How could Mary strangle a man twice as big as her?
“The police will want to talk to both of you,” Roger told Chase and me. “I wouldn’t make any sudden moves or volunteer too much information.”
“What happened?” Master Armorer Daisy Reynolds panted as she reached us. Her formidable breastplate, with the image of a phoenix engraved on it, shone in the sun. Her muscled arms bulged. “I heard the queen found a dead man.”
Thankfully a few other craftsmen, some flower girls, and the Village dragon were all there by then. I was glad we weren’t alone in that space between the buildings. No doubt the story would be recounted many times over. There was always plenty going on in the Village, but it didn’t usually include death. At least not
real
death.
Briskly, Roger filled everyone in.
“The police.” Daisy shuddered. “I didn’t see anything. There’s no reason for me to be here when they come.”
“Me, either.” Fred, the human voice from inside the large, red dragon, spoke. “I’ve got a few bad parking tickets. They might be looking for me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Roger said. “You know I’m an ex-cop. This will be a routine investigation. Nobody’s going to wonder about your parking tickets, Fred. They’ll want to know what happened to this man and who was here when it happened. Everyone needs to calm down.”
“Livy actually found him, but I don’t think that old rule of thumb applies this time,” Chase volunteered. “As usual, her entourage was with her. I’m sure she’s not involved.”
Fred shrugged, not an easy thing in one of the heavy costumes. I was a giant for a whole summer one year. I wouldn’t care to do it again, even with the air-conditioning in the costume.
Roger looked up at Chase and me. “So the two of you were here in Wicked Weaves when they found him? You might be witnesses Mary will need.”
I grabbed Chase’s hand before he could answer. I couldn’t tell him
not
to give Mary away. I stared hard at him and hoped he’d get it. It might’ve looked more like a sad puppy face, but it worked.
“That’s right.”
Chase squeezed my hand and continued to hold it.
“The three of us were in the shop talking when Livy came up to get lemonade.” I dared Roger to question my lie.
He didn’t. He stood up and began looking around the small alleyway again. I couldn’t see anything unusual. But I’m not an ex-cop, and maybe they could see things I couldn’t.
Mary didn’t contradict us, even though she knew we were lying. She stood there as straight and tall as her five-foot-nothing frame would let her. Maybe she was there the whole time. Her tiny apartment was upstairs from the shop. Maybe she went up there, and I didn’t see her.

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