Murderous Matrimony(39)

“You’re far too squeamish, sweetie. You can’t stand the thought of hurting someone’s feelings. You wouldn’t banish me that way.”

She was probably right, though I didn’t want to admit it. Otherwise I would have already done it. How could I give the plague that was Wanda to someone else? It wouldn’t be fair. At least I kind of deserved it.

After they were gone, I sneaked back to the Dungeon and changed clothes. It had occurred to me that I was leaving one stone unturned—I hadn’t been to Sherwood Forest yet. Someone there might be able to identify the late night archer Bob had seen at the museum.

I had a man’s ragged shirt and britches that I wore when I helped Chase with Vegetable Justice—that wild throwing of squishy vegetables and fruit at wrong doers. I slipped those on and put on my boots. I didn’t want to run into the Manhattan clan again without some kind of disguise. Besides, the forest was bound to be muddy after the rain.

I looked at my dresser. My cell phone stared back at me.

Technically, employees weren’t supposed to have cell phones on them while the Village was open. Of course, many violated this rule. Getting caught could mean a stint in the castle kitchen washing dishes, unless you were willing to be terminated.

I didn’t plan to get caught. I shoved my cell phone into a small cloth bag that I could tie to my belt. Normally, I abided by the rules, but there had been some occasions that I’d wished I had some way to get in touch with Chase, or the police.

I wasn’t going looking for a killer without my cell phone.

I also picked up my quiver of arrows that I’d made myself. I slung that over my shoulder with my bow—also handmade under Master Simmons tutelage.

There were two boys in the dungeon when I went back out. They looked like they were nine or ten. They were closely investigating the fake prisoners who called out to them. They jumped, startled, when they saw me as I was locking the door to the apartment.

“It’s all right,” I said. “Just watch out for that one in the last cell. He bites.”

They looked uncertain at that, and I laughed as I was walking out the door. That was one of the things I loved most about the Renaissance Faire. There was always surprise and uncertainty about the things people saw. Not just kids either. I’d seen adults so involved in a joust that they fell off of the bench where they’d been sitting.

I ducked behind The Jolly Pipemaker’s shop to make sure the coast was clear. I called Chase while I was back there to let him know that his family had arrived.

“Are you out in the Village on your cell phone?” he asked, no doubt hearing the music from the Dutchman’s Stage next door.

“Of course not. Love you. Gotta go.” I turned off my phone and put it back in the bag.

I stayed off the cobblestones until I got to Sherwood Forest. The forest practically empties out in front of the museum. If the archer wasn’t one of Robin’s men, or women, it was likely that someone saw him or her. There was usually a guard from the forest at the gate all night.

Sometimes this was to facilitate a pretty visitor who needed to be escorted out of the Village some secret way after her time there. Other times, it was for keeping watch to protect themselves from other guilds whose members might be about to invade. It happened.

The forest was five acres of trees, rocks, and dirt. On a sunny day, the trees blocked out most of the light. On a cloudy day like this one, it was gloomy and damp. The Merry Men lived in treehouses built in the largest oaks and pines.

These weren’t treehouses that could’ve been built by kids either. These were elaborate, multi-storied, several room edifices, created by architects when the Village was first built. Each treehouse had water and electricity, but that was as far as amenities went.

Several Merry Men and Women stayed in each treehouse and frequently shared them with visitors who stayed the night, even though it was against Village rules.

They had some bad habits—like stealing toaster ovens from other residents. If you didn’t have a toaster oven in the Village, you were lost since housing was usually small, an there were few kitchens. It was the best way to cook a meal.

Robin and his men had been known to trade toaster ovens for other items they needed, even though many times the ovens didn’t belong to them.

I started down the path to the heart of the forest, stepping around a few obvious traps that would have caught me in a snare or a net.

Capturing visitors, and the occasional resident, was another bad habit of Robin and his followers. Visitors loved it, so it continued. Most residents didn’t venture in here.

I knew what to look for because I’d lived here for a while—years ago. The Merry Men hadn’t changed their habits. What they did was popular—why bother? It made them predictable.