Read Harrowing Hats Online

Authors: Joyce and Jim Lavene

Harrowing Hats (27 page)

“Yeah. He’s a cutie,” a bleached blond in a green tank top said. “I’d kiss him if my husband wasn’t right here.”
The crowd wasn’t going to let us get away without it. It was either kiss the young Templar or stand there as the crowd got bigger. Deciding it was better to give in than try to fight the wave, I planted my lips on his and hoped that would be it.
Too bad I didn’t have the chance to brief my gallant knight beforehand. He totally took advantage of the situation, wrapped his arms around me, and went for the dip.
In the Village, the dip was always the thing. No kiss was complete without it. The man dipped and the lady held up one foot behind her. It was one of the first things you learn in training.
But it was over quickly. The crowd applauded. And my knight held out his arm (part of an IV attached) and we walked away to a chorus of huzzahs. The crowd was happy and no harm done—except for seeing Wanda LeFay applauding with them. Her evil, cold blue fish eyes promised that everyone would know about this within the next hour.
I wasn’t worried about it. Chase would understand once he knew the circumstances. In the meantime, my mind had come up with a true purpose for the young knight at my side. The possibilities spun around in my head like colored butterflies.
“What is your name, Sir Knight?” I asked as we walked.
“I am Lord Robert Johnson,” he replied. “I wasn’t sure if you recognized me.”
“How could I forget?” I kept my hand on his arm, guiding him to the side of the shop. I needed to talk to him but not where we could be overheard. “You said you want to serve me, is that right?”
He dropped to one knee again. “I owe you my life, lady. Whatever I may do to clear this debt, I will do.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” I smiled at him and urged him to his feet. “You’re going to help me prank Stewart Reiker. When we’ve finished, he’ll be a different person. Are you in?”
He smiled back, but his angelic face took on an almost evil aspect. “I would help you with this quest, my lady, whether I owed you my life or not. Tell me what you want me to do.”
We arranged to meet later when I’d had a chance to think about my plan. Lord Robert probably knew some helpful information about Stewart that I could use to our advantage. This was the opportunity I was looking for. I’d have to get some others onboard with the project, but that should be easy. Vengeance went with Village like meat and potatoes.
Thirty
W
hile I finished helping Andre make the purple hats that were due tomorrow, I thought about Stewart—and the hat pins. I couldn’t help it. I had both things on my mind.
Pranking Stewart seemed easy, despite Chase’s warning. Compared to figuring out whose hat pin matched the one in Cesar, it was a snap.
Once the last touches went on the bold purple hats, they were laid in elegant round hat boxes with Andre’s special label. The whole aspect was satisfying and gave me a feeling of creation.
I asked Andre if I could stay and clean up the workroom while he and the other assistants went for a celebration ale at Peter’s.
He glanced around the material-stacked room and nodded. “Is anything wrong, Jessie?”
“No. I’m just not ready to go back to the Dungeon yet.”
“Man trouble again? I swear you and Chase are in and out as much as Doris Day and Rock Hudson! But that’s fine, dear. Take your time. I’m having dinner with Eloise tonight. She called
me
, you know. First time ever. Perseverance. That’s the key.”
“That’s wonderful! I hope you have a great time.”
“I know we will.”
As soon as he was gone, I started looking at the hat pins again. Every resident who ever wore a hat, past and present, had hat pins. Who knew there had been twenty Bo Peeps with their distinctive blue hats? Thankfully there was still only one pin for that character. Again, with a special group of blue beads on it.
Surely a good picture of the hat pin they found in Cesar could be made available. It didn’t have to be the real thing if Detective Almond didn’t want me to have the evidence, as I felt sure would be the case.
There were so many hat pins with stones of various shades—green, blue, red, and yellow. There were too many pins with green stones or beads of one kind or another. I wasn’t sure I could even tell them apart.
I gave up trying to separate them an hour later. I never realized how many characters with hats were in the Village. Some of them weren’t here anymore, but Andre kept their particular style of hat pin anyway—maybe just in case they came back.
Feeling like I had to cover my tracks—Andre was still a suspect after all—I cleaned up the workroom until I could see the floor again. I wondered what kind of hat pin had been found in Andre’s wife all those years ago. It occurred to me that it might have something to say as well.
To the police, it would only be a hat pin (not that they’d know the unique part by themselves), but Andre probably kept records for the movie stars he worked with the same way he did here. It might be possible to know something about the earlier crime by knowing about the hat pin.
I decided it would be cruel to ask Andre about it. But Neal might be a good source for that information. I knew he was involved, if only as an outsider. I was sure he had a lot of details he could impart.
I closed the Hat House, wondering where I could find Neal after a long day of driving a carriage. Someone fell in step with me as I was crossing the cobblestones near the Dutchman’s Stage. I looked up with a smile, thinking it was Neal—but I was wrong.
Joe Bradley, the newly sanctioned private detective in the Village, was about the same size and height as Neal. Maybe the same age, too. He was at it again—stalking me. But this time it wasn’t dark and there were plenty of people I knew all around. One call would bring them all running. At least that’s what I told myself. Sometimes it was easier to get attention from the visitors than the residents, who’d seen it all.
I stopped flat near the Jolly Pipemaker’s Shop. “What do you want now?”
“Look, you and I got off on the wrong foot, Jessie. And I’m sorry for that. But we’ve got something in common we should talk about.”
“And that is?”
“Justice for the dead.”
“If you’re going to go on about Andre being a killer—I don’t want to hear it.”
“Wait!” He put his hand on my arm as I started to walk away.
Too fast to really understand what had happened, he was on the cobblestones with a large, booted foot on his chest and a sword at his throat.
Thinking it was Chase, I looked up and smiled at my rescuer. Wrong again! This seemed to be my day for it.
Instead it was Lord Robert, late of the Templar Knights. He was dashing once more in his black trousers and shirt but minus the head covering. “Are you all right, Mistress Jessie?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the man on the ground.
“I’m fine, Lord Robert. Please let him up.”
“Of course.” He moved his foot and sword. “I didn’t want him to offend you.”
“Not a problem. Thanks for the help.”
Joe Bradley got clumsily to his feet, rolling off the cobblestones. He was a large man, like Neal, but the resemblance ended there. He had a tough face with a nose slightly to one side of where it should have been. Too much fighting, no doubt.
“Jerk!” He railed at my rescuer. “Do you know how hard it is to get a new costume from that crazy woman at the shop? If you’ve ripped this—”
“Speak not to me, knave! You accosted the woman I am sworn to protect!”
“Knave?” Bradley laughed. “I’m a madman, thank you very much. In more ways than one, I might add.”
“Off with you.” Lord Robert nudged him with his foot. “Your presence offends me.”
“Yeah? Whatever. You guys are all nuts out here, you know that?” Bradley turned to me. “Listen, I have a story to tell that you should hear before you decide who’s innocent and who’s guilty in all this. Here’s my cell phone number. Give me a call.”
“You aren’t supposed to use that here,” I reminded him.
“Sue me!” he yelled as he walked away with a last glare at Lord Robert.
“Shall we meet now to speak of Stewart’s downfall?” my knight asked eagerly. “I am disguised so that others might not know of my Templar identity.”
“About that, Lord Robert,” I began, glancing around, glad the visitors were gone for the day. “Only the Templars dress all in black. FYI.”
“Oh.” He stared at me like I’d said he was naked.
And no sooner was the thought in my head than he began taking off his shirt—exposing his pink and white chest.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, really concerned.
“I am disrobing to make myself less visible for our meeting.” He sounded totally nonchalant about it.
“Never mind. The Dungeon is right here. Let’s just step inside for a few minutes.” I glanced around and unlocked the door. “And put your shirt on!”
When he was dressed again, we sat on the stairs that went up to the apartment in full view of the tortured souls who occupied the ground floor. Some fifteen or twenty men and women peered at us with plastic eyes and painted faces through the dirty cell bars. Straw covered the floors as it would have during the Renaissance to soak up bodily fluids.
Eww!
It wouldn’t have been a good place to be back then, certainly not easy to get out of. At least no one could charge Chase with abusing his prisoners.
I told Lord Robert about my basic plan to prank Stewart—and the history of past misdeeds at the Village being erased by pranks. “It’s practically a lifestyle here.”
He looked at me like he wasn’t quite sure. “As far as I know, my lady, there is no prank you could perpetrate on Stewart to make him a better person. He is a product of his very rich, very snobby parents who’ve spoiled him all of his life.”
Lord Robert was very well spoken for an underling. “What have you done all of your life?”
“I worked my way through medical school. I have an internship at Duke starting this fall. I thought it might be fun to spend the summer here. Big mistake, I guess.”
“Cheer up. There’s still plenty of summer left.” I told him about my life teaching history to many students who thought the world began in 1975. “We won’t let this rich bully ruin both our summers. We can turn this around.”
“What has Stewart done to ruin your time here? I only saw you at the encampment once.”
I couldn’t tell him about Chase. I had to make up a few white lies about how the Village meant so much to me and all the residents were suffering. Maybe not lies exactly—people were kind of unhappy about the Templars.
“I wish I could be more help,” he said. “I can’t think of anything we could do to Stewart that would make a difference. You haven’t met him. You don’t know what he’s like.”
Maybe my brain was too full of hat pins and pranks. Maybe I was tired and not capable of rational decision making. But I got an idea—more like a cannon exploding in my head—and I knew what to do.
“Maybe you could help me get in as a neophyte knight. I could wear the costume and the headdress and find out Stewart’s weaknesses.”
“No offense, my lady.” He smiled that cute little smile again. Reminded me of a little puppy my brother Tony and I had when we were small. “But women can’t be knights. There’s the physical stamina, not to mention the fact that there aren’t any women at the encampment besides concubines.”
I smiled right back at him. There wasn’t any knight in the Village—except maybe Chase—who knew more about being a knight than I did. I was pretty good with a sword, excellent with the long bow, and a decent horse person.
“I think I could manage.”
He didn’t look convinced. “If I introduce you as a friend and you are unmasked as a woman, Stewart will have my head.”
I got to my feet, dusted off the back of my gown. “As far as I can see, you’re on the verge of leaving anyway. What have you got to lose? Let’s keep this in perspective, Bobby. This is Renaissance Faire Village and Market Place in the heart of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. No matter what—things aren’t real here. I think my plan would work.”
He nodded slowly as he got to his feet. “All right. When do you want to begin?”
Thirty-one

Other books

Leaving Tracks by Victoria Escobar
Seducing Jane Porter by Dominique Adair
Slob by Ellen Potter
In a Glass House by Nino Ricci
Skybreach (The Reach #3) by Mark R. Healy
Southpaw by Raen Smith
Finding Mr. Right by Gwynne Forster