Harrowing Hats (30 page)

I thought about everything Andre had told me and that I’d seen in the accounts of his wife’s death. I could see why Detective Almond believed he was guilty of killing Cesar—the two killings were hauntingly similar.

Of course, anyone could go online and look up the information like Chase and I had. But not many people would be that motivated. Andre had been here running Harriet’s Hat House for years. Why would this happen now?

And what would they gain from this copycat killing?

All of it whirled around in my head. There were a few people coincidentally (or not) directly involved with the first murder in the Village. The evil twins—Rene and Renee certainly had a score to settle, at least in their minds. Neal was here after working on the first story, and Joe Bradley was involved, too. Any of them could be part of this. I liked the evil twins best for the crime, but they had an alibi for the time Cesar was killed. Neal didn’t seem to have a motive and neither did Joe.

That left me with someone in the Village—maybe not Bernardo, Eloise, or Beth. I couldn’t imagine who else would want Cesar dead and would be willing to put the blame on Andre. It seemed hopeless. Any of the residents walking by me could be guilty. How would we ever figure out who did it when everyone seemed to have an alibi? I was really beginning to hate the whole alibi situation.

I finished my pretzel and frozen lemonade, then washed the little bit of mustard from my hands in the cool water from the fountain. I thought about my hat pin research again. It appeared that the only way to solve Cesar’s death might be to solve Kathleen’s death. It made sense with so many people here from Hollywood who could want to lay Cesar’s death at Andre’s feet.

Something Andre said tickled my thoughts. The police withheld the information about the hat pin that was in Kathleen. Only the police, crime scene photo guy—and Neal Stevenson knew the stones on the hat pin were pink.

If the police had let Neal know about the hat pin, wouldn’t he have put it into the paper?

My mind started buzzing with that. I watched one of the carriages drive by—not Neal because the driver was wearing one of the little hats.

Unless Neal made some deal with the police not to use that information.
That was possible, I supposed, having heard things like that on TV shows but not really knowing if it was true.

The best way to sort this out might be to get Andre and Neal together so they could compare notes. Maybe three minds might be able to figure it out.

I looked around at the carriage drivers circling the Village Square, but Neal wasn’t one of them. Not that D’Amos would look kindly on me snatching one of his drivers away to talk about old times with Andre. I knew Neal would have to be at the King’s Feast in a few short hours. Andre would be there, too. Maybe I could get them together then.

With that settled, I went back to the Hat House—Andre was still gone. There was nothing I could do here without him. I remembered to pick up Neal’s hat and closed the door to the shop behind me.

I spent the rest of the afternoon lining up help for my prank. Bart and Daisy were definitely in. Several pirates agreed to help—although I thought their motive was probably more seeing Queen Crystal than helping me. But you know pirates. They love a good prank, whatever the reason. Roger Trent was in and so was Hans, the blacksmith. Brother Carl said he’d bring a few monks, and Hephaestus, the owner of the Peasant’s Pub, also agreed to be there.

With all those hearty souls behind me, all that remained was deciding on the prank itself. I hoped my visit to the encampment tonight would bring that onboard, too. All that would remain after would be making up with Chase for totally ignoring his judgment on the matter.

The Village was slowly shutting down as all activity moved to the castle for the King’s Feast. Most vendors brought a few things to show off and sell to the crowd, except for the food vendors, who just had to stand around and watch. The castle staff who prepared the feast every week got a little cranky about the idea of competing with food vendors on their own home turf. A decree followed quickly, banishing all but castle food during the feasting.

Food vendors, like the rest of us, were still required to attend the festivities. Only death or dismemberment got you out of that. Just the food venders couldn’t make any money. We were all ambassadors of good will for the thousands of visitors every year.

Other vendors went cheerfully. It was a big night for those selling artwork, swords, fake fairy wings, shields, and flower garlands. Even clothing was for sale. I waved to Beth and Portia as they labored toward the castle. Their assistants dragged costumes on racks behind them.

I also saw the evil twins from the gem shop. They weren’t carrying any jewelry to sell that I could see—and no serfs behind them. They probably preferred customers to be in their lair. To my horror, they approached me. There was nowhere to run and hide.

Rene bowed his head regally. “Lady Jessie. We wish to apologize again for the misunderstanding between us that led to the unfortunate episode at the stocks.”

“Dreadful business,” his sister echoed his words. She wore a beautiful black gown that matched his tunic in design.

“What misunderstanding?” I was still raw from the whole thing. They wouldn’t get on my good side easily. “You got what you wanted. I heard the police questioned you anyway. I guess you didn’t gain as much as you thought.”

“Yes.” Rene looked down his long nose at me. He was really tall—not many people could do that. “But we were also released. We’re not guilty of anything.”

“Except, perhaps, wanting justice for our mother,” Renee concluded. Her brother glanced at her sharply. “What?” She got defensive. “It’s true! That man murdered our mother. Is it wrong to want to see him pay for it?”

Rene put his arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Excuse us, Lady Jessie. Renee is overwrought.”

They started to walk away from me and toward the castle again, but I stopped them. Maybe they were done but I wasn’t. “I can understand wanting justice—even revenge. But what if Andre isn’t guilty of killing your mother?”

Rene snarled. “We have lived with this since we were children! Of course he’s guilty! Don’t you think we’ve done our research? Everyone else knows he’s guilty, too. They just can’t prove it.”

“You’re blind to put your faith in him,” Renee said tearfully. “Don’t trust him. You see how he turned on his own here, too.”

“Seriously—does that make any sense to you? If the crimes were the same, he would’ve killed Eloise, not Cesar.”

They both blinked at me like large, pale owls. Traffic scooted around us with grunts and a few curses.

“I don’t know about the murder here, Lady Jessie,” Rene finally said. “But we know he killed our mother.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why did he kill your mother?”

“The police said she was having an affair with another man.” Renee announced it as though she’d rehearsed the words many times.

“How do you know the other man didn’t kill her?” I demanded. “Who was the other man?”

“We don’t know who the other man was,” Rene confessed, “or if there was another man. I don’t think Andre knew either. It was enough that he thought she was unfaithful. He flew into a jealous rage and killed her.”

“I know. And used a rare hat pin to mark his kill. Andre doesn’t strike me as being that stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Renee corrected. “Arrogant and dramatic.”

I had to give them that. I could see where Andre came off that way, although I still didn’t think he could kill anyone.

The twins suddenly looked like two kids who wanted their mother back. I could certainly relate to that. And I could imagine Tony and me standing side by side—looking lost and alone after our parents were killed.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent and feel so alone that you can’t even see the world around you. I probably would’ve done exactly the same thing you guys have to prove it. And you’re right. I don’t know for sure Andre
didn’t
kill your mother. But I really don’t think so.”

After my admission, the two of them just stared at me. Then the hugging started. Who knew they were huggers? We all cried while we were hugging, then we laughed about the crying and hugging. Lucky thing for us, the visitors went into the castle a different way or we would’ve ended up on YouTube.

“Thank you,” Rene said finally. “We are deeply sorry about everything that happened between us before. Perhaps we can begin again.”

“I’d like that,” I said, then decided to test a theory. “I hate to ask you this—but do you know the color of the hat pin that was . . .
found
. . . with your mother when she died?” I just couldn’t bring myself to go into the grisly details.

“Why?” Renee jumped at that. “Did you find something?”

“I don’t know yet.”

They looked at each other again and I could see the psychic mojo all twins possessed passing between them. It happened all the time with Tony and me, too.

“No,” Rene answered. “We know there was a hat pin and that Andre had given it to her that morning. But we don’t know the color. We never actually saw it.”

“It was some deep police secret they felt obliged to keep even from her children.” Renee’s voice was bitter.

I thought they were better off not knowing. Knowledge can be cruel. “I’m sorry I had to ask,” I apologized again.

“Please let us know if you find anything, Jessie,” Renee said, her voice pleading. “We are desperate for information.”

I nodded. “Sure. Oh, and, you didn’t kill Captain Jack and dump him in Mirror Lake, did you?”

“No,” Rene assured me without hesitation. “He sold us the shop and moved to Florida to fish. We still have his phone number if you want to contact him.”

“No. That’s okay. Just checking.” I was surprised how calm they were about me asking them about another murder. “I have to run. Sorry. See you later.” I waved, lifted my skirt a little, and rushed the last few hundred yards to the castle gate.

I was beginning to have a very bad feeling about that pink hat pin.

“
N
ice ankles,” Gus muttered as I passed him at the entrance to the castle. “You know, anytime you get tired of Chase—”

“I know. Thanks. Really.” I could barely catch my breath. High heat and humidity don’t go well with running. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in there somewhere. Have a good one.”

I kept my backside turned away from him as I slowed my frantic pace. Even with the petticoat and gown I wore, his pinches could get a little painful. He was an annoying man, sometimes, but he had a lot of redeeming qualities, too. It’s probably the only reason he didn’t get pranked by the ladies of the Village every day.

The Great Hall was crowded, of course. Nobility was mostly on the dais overlooking the arena where the jousts and entertainment would take place. King Harold and Queen Olivia were both there—looking majestic in their matching red and white costumes, gold crowns on their heads.

They stood apart from one another. Livy looked tearful and pale. Not a good sign. I didn’t see Chase up there in his usual midnight blue and silver tunic, so I began searching the rabble.

Visitors were still being seated in the stands on either side of the arena. Kitchen staff were moving around—setting places and pouring drinks. That was normal.

Vendors lined the entrance to the Great Hall, hawking their wares to everyone who passed. I didn’t expect to see Andre there and I was right.

I saw him with the three sisters in purple wearing their elegant new hats. He’d changed into a formal green tunic and matching hat with a large peacock plume in it. Very dashing. He looked every inch the master hatmaker he was.

Now I just had to figure out how to reach him.

I clung to Neal’s hat as though that would draw his attention, but the three ladies seemed to claim all of that.

I tried throwing my arms up in the air and yelling his name. One of the castle guards told me that madmen belonged in the arena on the ground floor for comic relief during the program.

There was still no sign of Chase. I was tempted to ask the obnoxious castle guard if he’d seen him. But it was so noisy as the cheerleaders (and I use that word loosely) began revving up the crowd by having them shout “Huzzah!” I didn’t know if he could hear me and I wasn’t sure if he’d pay attention anyway.

There were only two ways to get from one side of the arena to the other. You could go downstairs to the ground floor, where the knights would be readying their horses for the joust, and cross the field. Or you could pretend you were kitchen help and cross the narrow space that separated the royal dais from the barrier that circles the opening above the arena.

Going downstairs would take more time, so even though I wasn’t dressed like a scullery maid or kitchen wench, I grabbed a few plates and napkins, then headed across the walkway, hoping no one would notice.