Damsels in Distress (40 page)
“Shut your bloody trap!”
He wiggled his tongue at her. “Lady Olivia of Ravenmoor is violating the code of civility. Tsk, tsk.”
“Can it, Benny,” Anderson said.
“You gonna make me?” he taunted, wiggling his tongue at Anderson for good measure. “I should have whomped your butt in the final battle, but Lanya had told me what a jerk you were and I lost my temper. Why don’t we have a rematch in the yard, this time without armor?”
“You say when, asshole,” Anderson snarled.
Lanya elbowed me from behind. “Get on with it before this escalates further. They’ve both had too much to drink.”
“I noticed,” I said dryly. “Listen, please. I never accused Fiona of killing Salvador. Benny, would you like more wine before I continue?” I watched as he grabbed the bottle and took a drink. “You may be hoping that I’ll accuse someone else, but I’m afraid that the metaphorical arrow is pointing right at you.”
“Why me?” he said as wine dribbled onto his beard like drops of blood. He banged the bottle down on the coffee table. “Salvador and I were old buddies.”
“You really shouldn’t have mentioned that. From what I’ve heard, you were the one who made up fantastic action scenarios with warlords and wizards. Salvador needed plots like yours, not his trite efforts that wouldn’t sell. Did you come up with the name ‘Zormurd’ yourself, or was that Salvador’s only contribution?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He stole your stories, your characters, your entire fantasy macrocosm. He became rich and famous, albeit in a limited circle, while you played poker in a hut in the sand. And to top things off, he confided in you that he was going to take steps to protect his assets if he lost a lawsuit. You couldn’t even sue him. You must have been seething.”
“I started making up stories about Waldsenke when I was a kid. I was Zormurd, and Lady Maves was my girlfriend back in sixth grade. When she started sharing her lunch with a kid named Dwayne Pendark, I made him the villain. I could never draw them, so I just wrote about their adventures. Salvador loved the stories so much that I gave him all my old notebooks. He promised me that if he ever succeeded, he’d share the money with me. When the time came, he claimed that he’d merely used some of the names and settings, but the ideas were his own. Yeah, I was angry, but it was a long time ago. It doesn’t prove I killed him.”
I made a face. “No, it doesn’t. Lieutenant Rosen has been complaining about the lack of forensic evidence, but this was a particularly messy way to kill someone. Some of the blood must have splattered on the murderer, yet not one witness noticed it. You can wash your hands and face, but it’s very difficult to get bloodstains out of clothes. I think Lieutenant Rosen will find those stains on the street clothes you were wearing under your armor. You cleaned yourself up before you came to the banquet. Did you do the same earlier, before you put on the armor for the championship bout? If you didn’t, there will be smears on the inside of the armor as well as on the clothes.”
Lanya gave him a horrified look. “You did that to Salvador because of his silly comic books? Oh, Benny!”
“They weren’t his,” Benny said coldly, “and they weren’t silly.”
William cleared his throat. “Actually, they were. I leafed through one while I was picking up an order at the mall bookstore. The anachronisms were glaring. Several of the weapons were not developed until the sixteenth century. I fully expected to find one of the characters using a flashlight in the swamp.”
I intervened before Benny could respond. “There was nothing anachronistic about the battle-ax. Did Angie materialize while you were putting on your armor, or did she wait until you went to Salvador’s house the next day to hunt for your notebooks? You knew I was there, since my car was in the carport. If I’d come an hour later, would I have been the one to find her body?”
Benny poured the last of the wine down his throat and stood up. “I’m leaving. Everybody just sit there until I drive away, okay?” He staggered into the kitchen.
Peter went to the back door and motioned to an unseen figure. Jorgeson nodded at me as he stepped out of the darkness. After a brief whispered conversation, Peter let the door close and turned around. “Benny will be escorted home and asked to hand over the clothes and armor. If he does not comply, he’ll be held until we get a warrant.”
“Is that it?” demanded William, his eyes popping with eagerness. “Shouldn’t you shoot him or something?”
“I’ll look into a firing squad in the morning,” Peter said. He held out his hand. “Your carriage awaits, Lady Clarissa.”
I took his arm, as befitting my title, and we swept down the back steps as if we’d both been coronated.
“You were out awfully late,” Caron said when I came into the kitchen the next morning. “You make such a big deal about me calling or leaving a note. Don’t I deserve the same courtesy?”
“Yes, dear, you do.” I started a pot of coffee and nibbled on the last stale doughnut while I waited. “I’ll do better in the future.”
“Yeah, right. Was Mr. Valens pleased that we’re going to work on his stupid production?”
“I didn’t have a chance to tell him, and if I were you, I’d let it go. He was in a nasty mood last night, and it may not improve for a long time. I do have some good news, though. Miss Thackery won’t be teaching AP history in the fall, so you don’t have to worry about the midterm paper.”
“That means we’ll get stuck with Mrs. Collins. She makes her upper-level classes memorize poetry and recite it in front of the class. One of the senior girls fainted in the middle of an Emily Dickinson sonnet. Too pathetic.”
I tossed the remainder of the doughnut in the trash and poured a mug of coffee. “You’ll need to get the reading list as soon as possible and get busy before school starts. You’re going to miss three weeks in October.”
Her brow lowered. “Why?”
“You and Inez, if her parents agree, are coming along on the honeymoon. Peter brought it up last night and we talked about it for a long time. It will be a wonderful opportunity for us to see something more of the world, and very educational.”
“Oh?” she said. “What if I don’t want to go on
your
honeymoon? What am I supposed to do—sit in a hotel room and watch movies while you two…act like newly weds? I’m old enough to stay home by myself for three weeks. You can call every couple of days and check on me. I’ll call Sergeant Jorgeson if a serial killer tries to break down the door. Go on your own honeymoon with Peter, and leave me out of it. The idea’s gross.”
“We need passports,” I said, “and tetanus boosters just to be safe. I don’t think we have to worry about malaria or yellow fever.”
“The only way I’m going some hideous place with mosquitoes is if you stuff me in a trunk and ship me there. I’ll pound on the lid until someone hears me and lets me out, and then you’ll be arrested for child abuse. I’ll take my chances at a foster home.”
“I’ll have to find out how hot it will be,” I continued. “We’ll definitely need sunglasses and cameras. Sunscreen, too.”
Caron crossed her arms. “You have totally lost your mind. You need to be medicated and locked up until these delusions go away. I promise I’ll visit every Sunday afternoon with flowers and a copy of
The New York Times
. For a while, anyway. I may get bored with the whole thing.”
“Several guidebooks, of course, and a phrase book, although I suspect most everybody will speak enough English for us to get along.”
“Stop right now. You need a cold shower.”
“I imagine we’ll be taking lots of them in Egypt,” I said serenely.
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