“I wouldn’t miss this moment. You’ve worked really hard for it, Jessie. I know the museum is going to do well.”
“Thanks. I wish Manny was here to enjoy this too.”
“He has only himself to blame,” Chase reminded me.
“Maybe.”
Merlin finished his speech to a round of applause from the other board members, and high ranking officials from Adventureland and the Village.
All of the guild masters were also present, and dressed in their finest—except for the Knaves, Varlets, and Madmen’s Guild. They looked as they always did in torn dresses, shirts, and britches. Most were barefoot. They carried their trademark pots and pans with them as though they were scepters.
Madman Bob, who spent most of his time banging his pans together at the Village Green, was dressed as he always was in torn shirt and britches. He had thrown on an old brown hat that lent him an air of sophistication.
He bowed low and gracefully to me as we met. “My Lady Jessie. May I have words with you?”
“So good to see you, Madman Bob. I am a trifle busy at the moment. Could it wait?”
He lowered his voice. “Perhaps not, my lady. It involves the night a murder happened right here at this museum.”
Chapter Eleven
I glanced at Chase. “Perhaps you could speak to the Bailiff, sir. He is directly involved in the matter.”
“I shall only speak with you, lady. None other will do.”
With Madman Bob insistent that he had to speak with me, I had no choice but to lead him into one of the secondary rooms.
Chase was equally insistent that he was going to be there. Bob wasn’t happy about it, but he finally gave in.
A dozen beautiful tapestries were hanging here, but the crowd was still enjoying food and music in the main area. Oliver Northman was setting up his loom.
“What’s so important that you have to bother Jessie today?” Chase took a slightly belligerent tone with Bob. He stood, glaring down at him, his arms folded across his chest.
“I will speak to Lady Jessie, Sir Bailiff, if you don’t mind.”
I didn’t have time for a staring match. “What is it, Bob?”
“You have been asking around the Village for anyone to come forward who had knowledge of the night Dave was killed. I was afraid to say anything, but decided I must gird my loins and tell you what I know.”
“What did you see?” Chase asked.
I put my hand on his arm. “What was it, Bob?”
“I think I saw the silhouette of the killer. It was tall, though not as tall as the bailiff. There was a cloak, but I also saw a quiver of arrows on the back, and the outline of a tall bow. The person walked up the stairs to the museum. The shadow lingered for a minute. I’m not sure if it was a man or a woman. ”
Chase got out his pencil and paper. “What time was that?”
Madman Bob gave up the demand to speak only to me. “It was near midnight.”
“What were you doing out here at that hour?” Chase asked.
“I was going to see Madame Lucinda.” Bob smiled. “She is helping me with an affair of the heart.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I wondered.
“I was afraid, my lady. In my former life, I did some things I’m not proud of. These things could still have outstanding warrants. I don’t want to talk to the police.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that,” Chase said.
“Unless we can find a way around it.” I gave Chase a hard look. We obviously needed Bob’s information. We didn’t want him to run away.
“Unless we can find a way around it,” Chase agreed with a sigh. “But I need you to write this down and sign it with your real name. I won’t use it unless I have to.”
Bob seemed okay with that. “Thank you, my lady. I knew you would protect me.”
“You are quite welcome, Bob. Thank you for coming forward.”
People from the party in the big room began drifting our way. Bob took his leave of us.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Chase demanded. “Why did he think you could protect him, Jessie?”
“I don’t know—except sometimes you come on a little mean and grumpy.”
“Mean? I’m the Bailiff. I’m supposed to be tough . . . and grumpy . . . when it calls for it.” He grimaced. “Whatever. I have to go. It looks like your opening event is turning out okay. I love you. I’ll see you later.”
The next hour or so was spent with Oliver Northman’s talented hands on the big loom. He was not only an expert at creating beautiful tapestries as they had hundreds of years before—he was also entertaining. He told jokes about the history of weaving, and his great-great grandfather who’d built the loom where he worked.