Murderous Matrimony(13)

“I went to see Madame Lucinda about Wanda again.”

“Oh. What did she say?”

“She said she couldn’t help me—again. But a sorcerer is coming who can help.” It suddenly struck me that Wanda had told me about her sorcerer/lover who’d given her the bracelet. How had Madame Lucinda known about it?

I decided that I’d probably given it away to her in my emotional blathering and didn’t realize it. It had been a difficult two weeks.

There was one question I could clear up right away. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” His strong arms stayed at my waist, and his handsome, arresting face was close to mine.

“Can you look in the tent and tell me what makes that dragon tick? I can’t figure it out.”

“I’ve never noticed a dragon in there.” He gently smoothed a few flyaway strands of hair out of my face. “Let me check it out.”

He stepped inside the tent. I could hear him talking to Madame Lucinda. I waited impatiently for him to come out. Wanda was gone, thank goodness, although that meant she was terrorizing someone else.

“Well?” I asked when he was out of the tent again. “What do you think?”

“You mean the dragon statue? That’s the only dragon I saw in there.”

I looked at him, thinking about all the things I loved about him. Chase was intelligent, sensitive. He was a history buff, and loved horses. He worked as a consulting patent attorney who researched patents for his wealthy clients in his spare time, mostly after the Village closed in the evenings. He worked hard and played hard. He was a good friend to the residents of the Village, and stood up for them when it was necessary.

But at that moment, I was too annoyed to care. “Dragon statue? I’m talking about a living, fire-breathing, small dragon.” I ducked my head back into the tent. There was Madame Lucinda wearing her enigmatic smile, and petting Buttercup’s head.

I looked at Chase. “It’s right in there. How could you miss it?”

“I don’t know, Jessie. I only saw a statue. It wasn’t alive, and didn’t breathe fire.” He kissed my forehead. “You haven’t been sleeping, and you’ve been upset about this thing with Wanda, and the wedding. You should get some rest while the museum is closed.”

“In other words, you think I’m imagining it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

The tension between us kept ramping up. I couldn’t explain it, and I couldn’t do anything about it. “I’ll talk to you later, Chase.”

“Sure. Lunch?”

“That’s fine.”

Two giggling teenagers dressed as spiders ducked inside the fortune teller’s tent. I wondered what they’d find inside.





Chapter Five



Police officers still stood guard at the Arts and Crafts Museum across the cobblestones. Crime scene people were working around the front door, and at the site where Detective Almond thought Dave had been killed in the grass.

I wondered how Manny was doing at the police station. If I hadn’t been so angry, I could have asked Chase to call about him. I’d lost that opportunity until lunch.

Staying focused wasn’t easy. I couldn’t worry about Manny, or anything else, if I wanted to find Dave’s killer.

The two police officers glared at me, folding their arms across their chests. I wasn’t welcome in my own museum.

But there were no police officers next door at the antique weapon museum. I walked inside the door under the guise of wondering how the exhibit was progressing.

I knew the man putting together the exhibit. Phil Ferguson was the owner of The Sword Spotte, a fine maker of swords. He was another old-timer at the Village.

His swords were coveted around the world. He was a nice man too. Although I had considered that he had access to the weapon museum, with the antique crossbow, and could have killed Dave. I rejected the idea as soon as it crossed my mind.

There were a dozen workmen there, putting up shelves and installing glass cases. I figured I might as well go ahead and see what they were doing—maybe ask a few pertinent questions. I wandered in and looked around.

“Jessie!” Phil saw me and came over. He had a clipboard in his hand, and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of Renaissance gear. He was very short and studious looking, more like a librarian than a sword maker. “Come to check out the competition, eh?”

I laughed. “I don’t think of you as competition. There are plenty of visitors to go around.”

“I suppose that’s true. I think of our museums as catering to different clientele too. The men and teenage boys will come in here to look around while the ladies drag the girls and small children to your place.”