Murderous Matrimony(55)

I went on to the museum, thinking about everything that had happened the last few days. I didn’t believe the three people the police were questioning had killed Dave.

And what about Bob? Had he mentioned seeing an archer with a long bow to the wrong person and been killed for it?

The antique crossbow wouldn’t have worked, even with the bolts straightened. What was I missing?

The museum was crowded with visitors. Oliver Northman had a good crowd watching him as he spoke about the history of tapestries, and his hands moved quickly on the loom. He was a natural entertainer. The visitors seemed mesmerized by him.

“Tapestries have been used since at least Hellenistic times. Samples of Greek tapestry have been found preserved dating from the third century BC. Europe was slow to catch on.” He laughed. “It wasn’t until the fourteenth century that tapestries were made in Germany and Switzerland.

“These tapestries are beautiful,” one of the women in the group said.

“Thank you, dear lady.” Oliver grinned. “And they are for sale. I hope I mentioned that?”

Everyone smiled or laughed discreetly.

“By the Middle Ages and Renaissance, these portable coats of arms were all the rage. Weavers could scarcely keep up. They were woven with symbolic emblems and mottoes, called a baldachin. These were hung behind thrones as a symbol of authority.”

“What’s going on now?” Manny whispered. “You were late again today.”

I told him about Bob’s death. “The police took Master Simmons and Shakespeare to the police station, and picked up Sofie from Sherwood Forest.”

Manny nodded. “Bad news all around then. Back home, we are required to know how to use a bow, as well as a crossbow. I am quite proficient with both, actually.”

“Yeah, well, keep that to yourself unless you want to be back on the suspect list. Simmons wasn’t the only one who liked to argue with Dave.”

“It wouldn’t matter.” He smiled at me as though I was a silly child. “The police can’t keep me in custody. That’s the only good thing about being part of the royal family.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or slap him. With everything going on, I was a little tired of people making things up. He wasn’t delusional—definitely not a sorcerer—even a pretend one.

“Let’s not go there. Why don’t you go across the street and get us some coffee.”

His dark eyes looked hurt. “But it is true that I was ranked at the top of my countrymen with a bow. It’s important at home because it’s a life skill, not unlike using the cell phone and computer are here.”

I got up in his face. “Please drop it. I don’t want to hear anymore fantasy about royal families, dragons, ghosts, or witches right now. Okay?”

He nodded and quickly departed for the Monastery Bakery.

I listened as Oliver Northman described the early uses of tapestries to decorate, even poor homes. “They were one of the first forms of artwork even peasants could own. They were affordable, and relatively easy to make.”

Had that been me that just said I didn’t want to hear any more fantasy? What was wrong with me? I lived for fantasy. My life was a fantasy.

Obviously the strain had been too great, and I had lost my mind. Detective Almond would have laughed to hear me say it.

I apologized to Manny when he returned. “The wedding, and Chase’s parents, and everything else—it’s been too much. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

He nodded and pushed his glasses back on his intelligent face. “I understand, Lady Jessie. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You could speed up the wedding. Or zap Chase’s brother and his parents into an alternate dimension. That would help.”

“For someone who doesn’t wish to indulge in fantasy, your thoughts are a bit shy of reality.”

“Finer words were never spoken, sir. I bow to your superior knowledge.”

I curtsied politely just as Oliver Northman was finishing his program. The visitors that had been watching him turned to us. There was no photography allowed in the museum. Instead of taking pictures, they waited with eager faces to see what we were going to do and say next.

Manny was at a loss for something to say—possibly the only time since I’d met him. He stared at me in panic.

Piece of cake. “Life is good here in the Village, don’t you think, Sir Manawydan?”

He cleared his throat and nervously replied, “Why yes, Lady Jessie. I am quite enjoying my time here.”

“Aren’t you the woman on the posters who’s getting married?” one visitor eagerly asked. “Is this your fiancée?”