Fatal Fairies (Renaissance Faire Mystery Book 8) (21 page)

The knights that had been at the Village when I’d first started coming were mostly gone. I recognized a few names, though many of them had opened shops in the Village and stopped jousting.

My brother, Tony, was listed there too. His sigil was a hawk. I knew he’d jousted for a while. I’d never even known he had a sigil—or his own armor. How had he afforded it?

Sir Dwayne, who had been one of Isabelle’s many lovers, had a jackal as a sigil. Sir Marcus Bishop, who had fought for the queen in many jousts, used the wolf sigil.

I finally had my ‘AH-HA!’ moment when I found a knight who used the Scottish thistle as his sigil. And then, just as quickly, I was deflated.

Daisy and Bart were kissing in his office. I ignored them.

“I thought there was only one knight per sigil. There are two knights with the Scottish thistle. What’s up with that?”

Chapter Twenty-two

Daisy sat up and blinked at me. Bart completely ignored me.

“That’s not possible. It was never supposed to be that way.”

“Take a look in the Big Book of Knights,” I invited. “Two men share the Scottish thistle.”

Bart grudgingly got up and followed us into the library/computer room. All three of us studied the book.

“She’s right,” he said. “Sir Reginald uses the thistle, and so did Lord Dunstable.”

“But Dunstable hasn’t jousted in years,” Daisy argued.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill the fairy and the squire wearing his old armor,” I said. “Sir Reginald shouldn’t be jousting anymore either. He’s getting kind of old for it.”

“There isn’t an age restriction on participating in Village events,” Bart said. “A lord or lady could joust until they were ninety, if they so desired.”

“Which doesn’t really solve my problem,” I reminded the two love birds. “Which man is responsible for the murders?”

Sir Reginald and Lord Dunstable had already been at the Village for years when I’d first visited. Both men were large and probably strong enough to strangle Apple Blossom and the young squire. They both lived in the castle. It was difficult to say which man could also be a killer.

“Neither of them,” Bart said. “I’ve worked with both of them in my daily routines. While they might both be arrogant, and sometimes set in their ways, neither man is a killer.”

“But the thistle was engraved in the armor, sweetie,” Daisy reminded him. “It has to be one of them. I think either one would consider himself above the fray enough to get rid of someone if they wanted to.”

“It’s just an engraving,” he said. “Any sigil could be engraved in a suit of armor. I know these men. They aren’t killers.”

“I guess I have to side with Daisy. Whoever killed these people knew the Village very well. Lord Dunstable and Sir Reginald are brazen enough to consider doing it during the day around thousands of people. That takes a special kind of person.”

“How are you going to know which man it was?” Daisy asked.

“We should ask them,” Bart concluded. “Give them a chance to answer the question as you would any man. Honesty should always be trusted.”

Daisy pinched his cheek. “You’re from another world, aren’t you? We obviously need to lay a trap for them.”

“I can’t be part of that kind of deceit,” he added.

“That’s fine. I’ll come get you for dinner. Me and Jessie will figure this out. But keep your mouth closed. We don’t need anyone finding out what we’re doing before we spring our trap.”

We left Bart still protesting about human rights.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the Bailiff.”

“I can’t think of anything to trap either one of those men.”

“We have to figure out why the fairy was killed since she was the first victim,” Daisy said. “Any idea what caused that?”

“Absolutely none.” I couldn’t tell her that I’d been spending most of my time trying to get Chase to fall in love with me. “We’ve been too busy trying to get Canyon out of jail.”

“I might know someone who can help with that,” Daisy said. “She’s new to the Village, but I like her. Come with me.”

It had already occurred to me that not having a heart attack could have caused Sir Reginald’s personality to change. On the other hand, Lord Dunstable was still overseeing the jousts at the
Field of Honor
. That meant he was different too. Both men had similar personalities, as far as I was concerned. Straight-laced. Arrogant. Pompous. A little too sure of their importance in the Village.

But could that lead to murder?

I followed Daisy back down into the Village. It was barely six p.m., but all the visitors were gone. There weren’t even any stragglers that had to be asked to leave for the night, a rare occurrence. All that remained were residents and maintenance people getting an early jump on their work. No doubt the story of the horse crashing through the fence had made the news. Attendance might be down for a day or two.

Funny how that worked. Murder drew crowds. Accidents made people stay home. I never pretended to understand.

“Where are we going?” I finally asked as we walked by Mirror Lake on the way to the other side of the Village near the Main Gate.

“I told you—she’s an old friend of mine who’s in line to get a shop. They didn’t have anything available but offered her a tent until something comes up. You’ll like her. We’ve known each other for years. She has a good understanding of people and how they work. She’s got a PhD in psychology or some such.”

“So she’s going to open a shop as a psychologist in the Village?” I was trying to imagine how that would fit in. How would she make money talking to people about their problems?

“Nah. That wouldn’t work. She’s gonna deck herself out as a fortune teller,” she said as we approached the elegant purple and gold Renaissance-style tent that hadn’t been there the last time I’d walked by this spot. “She’s gonna call herself Madame Lucinda. What do you think?”

I wasn’t sure if I was happy to see her here or not. She was far more than a psychologist masquerading as a fortune teller in my Village.

Daisy pushed aside one of the tent flaps. “Lucy? Are you here?”

We walked into the main area of the thick tent. The same tables held crystal scrying balls, and otherworldly paraphernalia. The small green dragon with yellow eyes was perched on a shelf where she could view the room.

But the dragon didn’t move. I walked over and touched it. The eyes stayed fixed.

“Hello. I’m not quite open for business.” Madame Lucinda walked through the tent flap that I knew led to a smaller room. She was dressed in her usual purple robe but with one significant difference—she was completely human.

Madame Lucinda at my Village was part dragon.

She’s never confirmed it, but I’ve seen her heavily-scaled, squat, dragon leg. The rest of her looked normal. This fortune teller wasn’t anything but a woman with a degree in psychology who wanted to work in the Village and had come up with a routine like everyone else.

I was relieved. Not that I don’t like Madame Lucinda—the one who’s part dragon. She’s a wise woman. I’m a little nervous with her dragon, Buttercup, but otherwise, she’s okay.

“Hi Lucy.” Daisy smiled when she saw her. “We have a little problem I thought you might be able to help with.”

We sat at the round table and explained the situation to her. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at the small dragon every few seconds. I was so used to it looking back and moving around. It didn’t do anything this time. I was just being paranoid.

“It sounds to me like you have a frustrated killer on your hands,” she said. “I’m assuming it’s a man from your description of the crime. Sometimes men feel that they’ve lost part of their lives as they age. Women do too, but not in the same way men do. Men feel the urge to prove their virility. That may have been the case with the young fairy. When your victim refused to help your killer prove his masculinity, he turned on her with no thought of the consequences.”

“Wow.” Daisy laughed. “I knew we should come to you.”

“How do we catch this person?” Lord Dunstable and Sir Reginald could both fit the bill the way she was describing the killer.

“You should appeal to his vanity,” she advised. “Offer him something that will prove he’s still a young and virile man.”

Daisy glanced at me. “All we need is another fairy to use as bait.”

“Bait?” I asked. “You mean stake her out with a sign that says come get me? Because otherwise he has his pick of pretty young fairies every day.”

“If I may suggest something more overt,” Madame Lucinda said. “Send someone to him and then have her reject him. Since it probably appears to him that he’s gotten away with the first two crimes, another death won’t be as difficult for him.”

I really wanted something easier and safer. Maybe something I could spray on each of them and the real killer would show himself. But that really was fantasy.

“Apple Blossom had a friend, Stacie—I mean Blueberry.” You gotta love those fairy names. “I think she might be willing to help.”

“Sounds good to me. But which one do we start with?” Daisy asked.

To me there was no question, but then I knew Sir Reginald had been spared a heart attack in this Village. He was still jousting instead of minding the castle. No doubt in my mind that he needed to prove himself.

“We’ll start with Sir Reginald. I’ll call Detective Almond and get the blueberry fairy’s phone number.” I smiled at Madame Lucinda. “Thanks for your help.”

“It was a pleasure.” She smiled and shook my hand. Her hands were normal too, warm, and smooth.

“Let’s get on with it.” Daisy got up from her chair. “I’d like to get this off Bart’s table so he and I can talk about the important stuff.” She winked at me.

I glanced up for the last time at the small dragon before I followed her.

“Jessie?” Madame Lucinda called before I could escape the tent. “I notice you’ve taken quite a shine to my baby dragon.”

“Let’s just say, this is Renaissance Village. Anything is possible.”

“But not the Village you come from, is it?”

Oh no.
“I don’t know what you mean.” And I didn’t plan to admit anything.

“That’s fine.” She smiled. “I understand. Good luck with your plan.”

“Thanks.” I peeked at the baby dragon once more. Were his golden eyes glowing? And hadn’t his tail been on the other side?

I hurried out of the tent and caught up with Daisy.

“I’m going to check on where Sir Reginald is supposed to be this evening,” she said. “Bart keeps up with all that. Have you called Detective Almond yet?”

“No. I haven’t had a chance.”

“What were you doing back there?” she demanded. “Do you want to catch the killer or not?”

I took out the radio, but before I could use it, Chase found us.

“Ladies.” He put his arm around our shoulders and kissed the side of my face. “What brings you out on such a nice evening?”

“We were talking to the new fortune teller,” Daisy said. “We’ve got a plan to catch the killer.”

“Count me in,” he said. “What do we have to do?”

Chapter Twenty-three

When Chase heard the plan, he was completely against it. “You can’t control the variables in the situation. We don’t have a microphone the blueberry fairy can wear so we know when she’s in trouble. We could wait too long, and she could be dead.”

Daisy contemplated his words. “I guess we would’ve caught him in the act then, right?”

He stared at her in disbelief.

I didn’t think the plan sounded that bad. If Stacie/Blueberry was willing to give it a try, who were we to keep her from finding her friend’s killer?

“That’s the best we could come up with,” I told him. “Do you have something better?”

“No, but that doesn’t make it a good plan.”

“Come on,” Daisy urged. “Let’s see what Bart has to say. Jessie, call Detective Almond and get that phone number.”

Unfortunately, Bart agreed with Chase. “That could be really dangerous. I can’t be part of a plan that could end up with someone dead in the castle. I could lose my job.”

“Dead in the water then, I guess.” Daisy slumped in a chair. “I don’t suppose you have a better plan?”

“Who could have a plan for something like this?” Bart asked. “I shouldn’t have taken off my suit. Things have been falling apart since then.”

“I’m not disagreeing that we need a plan to figure out if Dunstable or Sir Reginald are guilty of murder,” Chase conceded. “I’m only saying that we need a better plan so no one gets hurt.”

“How about if we start with where both men are tonight?” Daisy suggested.

We all looked at Bart.

“Okay. I can do that—as long as we’re not dangling a fairy as bait.” He consulted an appointment book almost the size of the Big Book of Knights. “Lord Dunstable is at the castle this evening having dinner with the king and queen.”

“And Sir Reginald?” I asked.

“He’s here having dinner alone.” Bart grinned. “So neither one of them are going to kill any fairies, saying your theory is correct. We have time to plan something else.”

We sat around in Bart’s office trying to come up with something. Since I was convinced that the killer was Sir Reginald, my ideas came firmly down to trapping him. I couldn’t explain my reasoning to them without giving away why I was here.

For whatever reason, Daisy seemed to feel the same way about Dunstable. Our ideas clashed because of it.

“Why not find a young castle wench to take Lord Dunstable to her room for an after dinner treat?” she suggested. “We could doll her up some and see what happens.”

“That’s the same as the fairy,” Chase said. “Unless you want to tell her that we’re using her to catch a killer.”

“The only one likely to sign on for that is a police woman,” she told him. “And I don’t think we have any of those here.”

Detective Almond returned my call after I’d left him voicemail. He gave me Stacie/ Blueberry’s real name, her address, and phone number. I thanked him and evaded his questions as to why I wanted that information.

“Have you got something going on out there I should know about?”