Fatal Fairies (Renaissance Faire Mystery Book 8) (22 page)

“No,” I answered honestly since our plan had been scrapped. “I just thought I might ask her if she had other details.”

He mulled that over. “All right. Just don’t do anything stupid without me.”

I had to put my hand to my lips to keep from laughing. Enough of a sound must have escaped to make him realize that I was having fun with his answer.

“You know what I mean. What’s with you anyway, Jessie? Canyon never laughed when I said things he didn’t understand.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later, unless we decide to do something stupid. Then you’re at the top of my call list.”

“You shouldn’t tease him that way,” Bart said after I’d put my phone back in my pocket.

“She might as well,” Daisy said. “He can take it. I remember when he was Bailiff and he made us call him ‘The Constable’. He didn’t have a sense of humor back then either.”

“I’m getting hungry.” Chase glanced at his watch. “Why don’t we talk about this while we eat? Double date?”

Bart nodded eagerly. “That sounds good. I heard Baron’s has people from the Merry Mynstrels playing tonight—and two for one brats.”

“That’s my fella.” Daisy grinned. “A romantic evening of beer and brats.”

I wasn’t comfortable leaving the castle with no plan in the works. I reminded Chase and my friends that Sir Reginald could strike again if he was rebuffed. “Just like Madame Lucinda said.”

“Who?” Chase asked.

“She’s new,” Bart replied. “But Sir Reginald has managed to go more than one night without killing anyone. I think we’re probably safe having dinner.”

“Why are you so dead set on it being Reggie?” Daisy wondered. “I’ve always found Dunstable to be a lot more repugnant.”

“I don’t know. Just something about him.” I hesitated. “I guess you’re right. Going out to dinner will probably be fine. It would take Sir Reginald or Lord Dunstable a while to build up to getting rejected again, right? Let’s go for the brats.”

We walked down the hill together from the castle. Because the night was fair, there were dozens of residents out perfecting their performances. The green man was on his stilts, careening across the cobblestones. A few mad men were still out asking for pennies in their pots as they banged them around. A sword swallower was working on his act. I couldn’t look. It always made me cringe.

The warm evening was filled with music and laughter. A crowd had gathered outside Baron’s. The eating establishment was too small to seat so many people. Dozens of residents sat on the grass with their food.

We waited in line for thirty minutes before we got inside and were handed a wood platter with two brats and a tankard of beer. The musical trio featured a guitar, a mandolin, and a banjo—the banjo not being part of Renaissance history but acceptable after the Village had closed.

Chase found us a soft patch of grass near the swan swing, one of our favorite places in my old Village. We sat under the stars and ate like kings and queens. It was wonderful.

It made me wish this was the real thing, and wonder what Chase was doing in the other Village without me. Did he even realize that I was gone? My mood deteriorated rapidly after that until I was as melancholy as the dark romantic music being played by the trio inside.

I got a call on the radio about a disturbance at
Stage Caravan
. Of course it was all the way across the Village from where we were. I was tempted to ignore it.

Chase and Bart were in line again waiting for more beer and brats. Daisy was talking to a knight about buying a new sword from her. I finally convinced myself to go after the second alert. I was only sitting here feeling sorry for myself anyway. I might as well see what the problem was.

Since Daisy was the closest, I told her I was going and would be back soon. She nodded but kept haggling with the knight over the price of the sword.

I crossed the cobblestones and headed for
Stage Caravan
. But the sprinklers were already on for the night, so I had to zigzag around the Village Green on the King’s Highway, past the
Mother Goose Pavilion
and the
Pleasant Pheasant
, which was surprisingly closed for the night.

Stage Caravan
was primarily dancing girls in skimpy costumes and rhythmic music. Things could get a little crazy there sometimes, particularly after hours when the dancing continued and a few residents got drunk and out of hand.

It wasn’t a big deal usually. I couldn’t ever remember Chase being gone long when he was called to stop a problem there. I could see the colored lanterns swaying in the light breezes by the time I’d passed the blacksmith’s shop. I heard the loud music and laughter—definitely a party. If they’d brought it over to Baron’s, no one would’ve noticed. But there were several large housing units for residents on this side of the Village. No doubt one of them had called it in.

I watched the dancers on stage, thinking about the time my brother, Tony, had become infamous here as a sexy dancer. I hoped that wasn’t this time. The things that happened in this Village were slightly different than the things that had happened in my Village. It could be confusing.

But I couldn’t really understand why anyone had reported the dancers and musicians on stage. They weren’t rowdy or all that noisy. Sure, they were having a birthday party for one of the dancers, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

How did Chase make those decisions? A complaint was still a complaint. Could I just ignore it?

“Thank goodness you’re finally here, Bailiff.” Sam Da Vinci approached. “What took you so long?”

I seemed to remember that Sam lived over this way. He had his own place—a small, thatched roof cottage. He was usually easy to get along with. Maybe he had company, and the sound from the stage was bothering him.

“I came as soon as I could, but the stage noise isn’t really that bad. I don’t think it was worth a complaint.”

“I’m not talking about the music from the stage,” he said. “Something is wrong with the Dungeon. I can hear those stupid fake prisoners moaning and crying. That’s supposed to stop when the Village closes. How am I supposed to sleep with that racket?”

I hadn’t even noticed the sounds coming from the Dungeon until he’d pointed it out. I was listening to the music and trying to decide if it was too much. Once he’d mentioned it, I could hear the prisoners screaming and calling for help. I knew what he meant—sometimes the Dungeon soundtrack got left on after Chase and I were in bed for the night. It wasn’t something I wanted to listen to while I was going to sleep either.

“Sorry. I’ll take care of it.”

“If you’re the Bailiff, why is Canyon still living in the Dungeon?” he asked in a surly tone.

“Not that it matters, but I’m staying at the castle right now.” I was attempting to be polite.

“Well I think you should take your place where you belong, young lady. You have an image to uphold. Living at the Dungeon is part of it.”

He stalked away, disappearing into his cute cottage.

What a grump
. It seemed someone hadn’t found a fair lady to spend time with him since there was so much upheaval that day.

“Goodnight to you too,” I called after him.

I walked over to the Dungeon. The outside door was locked. That was a surprise. It was never locked. Even when Chase and I were in bed, we locked the apartment door, not the outside door. I pounded it in case Canyon was inside. There was no response. I couldn’t turn off the noisy prisoners without getting inside.

Not sure who to call about the problem—Chase had keys for every door in the Village—I had forgotten to get them from Canyon. Maybe Bart knew where another set was located. I didn’t want to trudge across the wet grass again, but Sam wouldn’t be the only one complaining if the tortured prisoners didn’t stop moaning.

I pounded on the door again. No answer. If Canyon was inside, he was asleep. I started to head back to Baron’s with a few mumbled curses, when I heard another sound from inside that wasn’t part of the endless repetition of tortured prisoners.

Was that Canyon? Had he hurt himself?

“Canyon? Are you in there? Did you fall down the stairs? Pound on something if that’s you.”

I listened again. No pounding. The prisoners kept crying and begging for help. But in that sound, I still heard something that was different than the taped responses. It wasn’t anyone calling for help, and there was no pounding.

But what if Canyon couldn’t pound on something? What if he was injured? I couldn’t just leave him.

There wasn’t anything I could use to open the door in a conventional manner. But there was a loose cobblestone that was in this Village and mine. I’d noticed it right away—a pet peeve I frequently complained about. Maintenance never seemed to repair it well enough.

I picked it up and hit the lock on the Dungeon door as hard as I could. I knew it wasn’t very solid. It didn’t need to be since they wanted people to go in and out. I had to hit it three times before the lock broke and the door opened with a chilling creak that also wasn’t part of the soundtrack.

 “Hello?”

Chapter Twenty-four

It was dark inside. The light switch was near the stairs to the apartment. I didn’t have a flashlight, but I knew this place well. There shouldn’t have been a problem walking from the door to the stairs. The prisoners in the jail cells were further inside.

I put my arms out and scuffed my feet, trying to make sure nothing was in the way.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Starshine whispered. “Go get help. You need help.”

“I can reach the light switch without help,” I told her. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, Jessie—”

I lost that argument as I tripped over something on the floor. Maybe nothing should’ve been there, but it was. Worse, it was lumpy and soft…like a body.

Falling hard over the top of it, I heard a muted cry. Tension and fear raced up my spine as I crawled the rest of the way to reach the light switch and flipped it on.

Isabelle was tied and gagged on the floor. Her dark hair flowed across her face, but I would have known that green gown anywhere.

“Are you all right?” I untied her and she removed her duct tape gag.

“Do I look all right? Reginald has gone insane. He hit me in the head and grabbed me out of my room. Then he brought me here. Where am I anyway? Why are you here, Jessie?”

I helped her to her feet, immediately thinking about her death in my Village. I shivered at her touch and hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those crossover moments. This wasn’t how she’d died, but that didn’t mean anything.

“You’re in the Dungeon. Sir Reginald didn’t know to shut off the prisoners.” I turned off the soundtrack as I explained. “Why did he bring you here?”

“Because he’s insane. Why do you think? Let’s get out of here and tell someone.”

“I’m the Bailiff,” I reminded her. “I’m the one you’re supposed to tell.”

She laughed. “And you’re going to save me from him? Where’s Canyon?”

I checked upstairs in the apartment. Canyon wasn’t there, and it didn’t appear that he had been since he got out of jail, as evidenced by the moldy food on the table. Detective Almond had wanted to see what he would stir up with Canyon’s release. Was this it?

“Are you sure it was Sir Reginald?”

“I was standing in my room talking to him. He was flirting with me—like always. I turned back to get a drink, and he cracked me on the head with something. I think I’m bleeding. We need to call a doctor.”

She was right. There was blood mixed with her dark hair, and a smear of it on her pale forehead.

“All right. The first thing is to get you to safety. He doesn’t want me, so I’m in no danger.”

“He wants me?” She frowned. “What do you mean? He and I have never—would never…”

“I think that was his motivation. He has a thing about his virility and women telling him no. He might be the one who killed the fairy.”

“He killed someone? This is making my head hurt. Where do you plan to take me that’s safe from him?”

“We have to get out of here,” I suggested. “He’s changed his MO, moving you somewhere to kill you in secret. He got away with it last time out in the open, but now he’s getting sneaky.”

“Could you strategize later, and let’s hide until the police get here?”

“Yes.” I considered where we could go. “There’s a big crowd at
Stage Caravan
. We’ll go there, and I’ll call the police. We should be safe until then.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Isabelle was unsteady on her feet. She might be more injured than I’d considered. I put my arm around her so we could move quickly away from the Dungeon. She leaned against me—obviously in bad condition.

I flung open the door to the Dungeon to make our escape, and there was Sir Reginald.

He was wearing armor again. It wasn’t the red and black this time but plain dull gray. I didn’t think he was afraid of Isabelle hurting him—maybe it was a remembrance of his glory days.

It didn’t matter. His long face was as pale as Isabelle’s. I could see the disconnect in his eyes. He should’ve had that heart attack. Maybe it would’ve stopped this.

“Bailiff,” he said calmly. “I see you’ve found poor Isabelle. The man who killed the fairy and the squire attacked her at the castle. I brought her here to protect her. I had to get her away from him.”

“That’s a lie unless you’re admitting to killing those people,” Isabelle accused. “You brought me here because I told you to go away and you were angry.”

“She’s been injured. Help me get her somewhere safe, Jessie. Then we can call the police.”

“I’ve got her,” I said. “You call the police. Let’s walk toward the Main Gate so we can meet them there.”

I didn’t buy his story, but I thought I could throw him off if he believed we were working together. My hand itched to call Detective Almond, but I had to deal with this first. If Sir Reginald had already changed his game plan about strangling people out in the open and advanced to hitting them on the head, he might decide he could kill me too.

“That’s a wonderful plan.” He stepped to the side of the walkway that led to the cobblestones. “You go first. That way I can help you with her if you need it.”