Murderous Matrimony(9)

“Found it!” I said out loud. “David Olson, thirty-eight. Graduate of UCLA. Degree in drama and theater.”

“And still he ended up here playing a madman,” she mused. “What a pity!”

“It says that he wasn’t married. No close family. He was reprimanded twice for gambling by Roger Trent.” I frowned. “I didn’t know he’d been here that long.”

“Oh, I could have told you that!” Wanda said. “I remember him being here almost since I came.”

I felt bad about that, but the truth was that there were so many people who lived and worked here—or stayed for a season, left and came back—it was hard to keep up with them. Hundreds of high school seniors and college students worked here on and off. I only knew the main players who were here all the time.

But Roger might be a good person to talk to about Dave. I definitely knew Roger since I’d apprenticed with him at his glass shop, The Glass Gryphon.

I hurried and shut down the screen as Wanda tried to take another peek. I didn’t know what she could do with the information, but I didn’t want to find out either.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice!”

“Sorry. I think someone’s coming!”

It was Bart coming back with an egg biscuit and a cup of coffee. “Want one? There were some left over after breakfast this morning. None of those skinny ladies-in-waiting eat around here.” He smiled at me. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

“No biscuit, thanks, but I appreciate your help.”

“What help?” He sat back down. “I just went out for coffee. You were making copies when I got back.”

“Yeah. See you later. I have to figure out what happened to Dave before my wedding.”

“Good luck with that.” Bart waved.

Workmen were putting up big posters on the castle walls where visitors would wait to get into the King’s Feast on Sunday night. They were advertising my wedding, along with the “full day of fun festivities” on local and cable channels.

Merlin, our resident wizard, had said the 250 or so weddings that day would be seen world-wide.

I tried not to think about it.

I heard a scream behind me. It was followed by the sound of a tray hitting the stone floor. There was also some breaking china. No doubt it was Wanda, frightening a chamber maid.

Sometimes it was possible to be calm and rational about things. But I didn’t know what to do about Wanda. She was causing havoc everywhere, as Chase had said. No one seemed to know how to stop her.

I decided to give Madame Lucinda, our resident fortune teller, one more try. She could be on my way to see Roger about Dave. What could it hurt? Imagine if I could find Dave’s killer and get rid of Wanda before my wedding. That would be something worth celebrating!

As I left the castle, I saw a group of archers practicing outside The Feathered Shaft. I hadn’t even thought to ask Master Archer Simmons for his take on Dave’s murder-by-arrow. He might have some good suggestions too.

“Jessie!” Master Simmons hailed me from outside his shop. “Just the lady I was hoping to see.”

Master Simmons never seemed to age. He was a jovial, round-faced man with laughing eyes. He’d been one of the first craftsmen signed up for Renaissance Faire Village. I’d apprenticed with him when I’d first started working on my dissertation, and I learned a lot.

“Good morning. How goes your life, good sir?”

There weren’t many visitors headed our way yet, but I liked to stay in practice. You never knew when someone was standing behind you with a camera.

“Things are good, Lady Jessie. I have great news for you. I received permission from the king and queen to have twenty archers each send a flaming arrow into the sky at the end of your marriage vows to the Bailiff. Exciting, eh?”

“Very exciting,” I agreed with him. “We appreciate your tribute, Master Archer.”

“Oh yes.” Wanda was there beside me, yawning. “So exciting I almost forgot to be awake. Fiery arrows? I’m all a’quiver. What will people think of next?”

I was glad only a few people in the Village could hear her. Since Master Simmons didn’t so much as blink when she spoke, I knew he wasn’t one of them.

When anyone actually saw or heard her, they ran away. I’d read a few accounts of ghost watching here by visitors on the Internet. The ghost stories probably enhanced attendance, but made for some disappointed visitors when they didn’t see a ghost.

Yet another reason to get rid of Wanda—beyond my personal issues with her.

I ignored her, and clasped his hands. “Thank you so much for being part of our special day.”