Bewitching Boots Read online

  “We’re looking for the shoemaker,” Roger yelled. “He’s supposed to be here with you.”

  “Oh, you mean the cobbler?” Merlin pointed to the area where the dartboard hung. “Over there. But you can’t have him yet. I have twenty dollars on his nose.”

  I looked back and saw Bill acting as a human dartboard. There was a line of half-drunk people waiting to throw darts at him.

  “Stop!” I yelled, horrified. “What are you doing? He could be seriously hurt.”

  “Nah.” Galileo offered his opinion. “He has elf magic. He can’t be hurt. Ask him.”

  Merlin laughed. “I don’t believe a word of it. I know magic, and he doesn’t have any. I think someone will catch him in the nose. So far, no one has managed to hit him.”

  “Probably too drunk,” Manny declared in a disgusted tone.

  “We have to stop this,” I said to Chase. “Blow a whistle or something to get their attention.”

  Roger climbed up on one of the crude wood tables and shouted for the tournament to stop. Either everyone ignored him or couldn’t hear him—I wasn’t sure which. I plunged into the crowd to keep the tournament from continuing, but I was too late.

  Sam Di Vinci threw the next dart. It whizzed toward its goal, but suddenly went off-course and completely missed Bill’s face.

  “See?” Bill asked drunkenly. “Nothing bad can happen to me. Try again.”

  Everyone in the room was so tightly focused and closely pressed together where my cobbler stood, I couldn’t push through them. I yelled out, “Bill, no!”

  Another dart was immediately thrown by Master Archer Simmons who owned The Feathered Shaft archery shop. Cheers followed. I closed my eyes, knowing he wouldn’t miss his target. When I heard laughter instead of groaning, I opened them again to find Bill still untouched.

  I tried again to push my way through the crowd. There were just too many people. I looked up as Chase rammed his path through the group and positioned himself in front of Bill. That made my heart pound faster.

  “That’s it,” Chase said loudly. “It’s over. No more human targets. Everyone go home and get some sleep.”

  What he didn’t see was that Mother Goose was next in line to throw her dart. She’d already flung the dart into the space between her and Chase before she could react to his pronouncement. It was headed directly for his eye. I screamed a warning to him and tried to get my hand in front of it.

  The tight-knit group groaned. Some covered their eyes. Mother Goose fainted dead away on the tavern floor. Bill gestured with one hand. The dart veered to the right, missing him and Chase, embedding itself in the wall beside them.

  Mother Goose sat up and shrieked, her large gray mobcap falling from her short white hair. “Oh my God! What in the world were you thinking, Sir Bailiff? I could have put out your eye.”

  “Exactly why you shouldn’t have been throwing darts at the shoemaker,” Chase told her in an angry voice he rarely used. “Get your goose and go home. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

  “But it’s different with Bill,” Mother Goose argued. “He has elf magic. We couldn’t hit him with a dart. He said so.”

  “Never mind that.” Roger took charge of the crowd. Phineas the goose squawked as he lifted him and gave him to Mother Goose. “You heard the Bailiff. Everyone out of the tavern. Go home.”

  I rushed to Bill and Chase’s sides. “Are you all right? How could you do something so crazy?”

  The question was addressed as much to Chase as it was to Bill.

  Bill finished his beer in a gulp. “You don’t have to worry about me, Lady Jessie. I’m the only one who can do something bad to myself. No one else can hurt me.”

  “You’re drunk,” Chase said. “What are you talking about?”

  “I killed Princess Isabelle. I’ll have to spend the rest of my life in prison. I’d say that’s about as bad as it gets.”

  Chapter Three

  I walked with Bill to the castle even though Chase assured me that it wasn’t necessary. “You’re not his lawyer, Jessie. There’s nothing you can do for him.”

  “I’m his friend,” I responded. “There’s no law against me being with him.” I lowered my voice. Bill was right ahead of us. “Besides, I don’t believe he killed Isabelle.”

  “He confessed.”

  “He’s drunk and probably upset because Isabelle showed him the door as soon as she got her slippers. He was way out of his league with her.”

  “Isabelle was single and available. There wasn’t any reason for her not to date as many men as she pleased,” he defended her.

  “That’s true, but she left a string of broken hearts behind her too. Any one of those people could have pushed her over the rail.”

  “Let’s talk about this later,” Chase growled as he saw Detective Almond approaching us.

  Chase had called the police detective about Bill’s confession before we left Brewster’s.

  That call allowed Detective Almond to be almost jovial when we met him. “Well, well! I like a case that wraps up quickly.”

  “Me too,” Chase agreed.

  “Good work, Manhattan! You’re becoming a fine detective. You could always come to work for us at MBPD, if you decide you want a normal job.”

  “Thanks.”

  Everyone that had been kicked out of Brewster’s, along with another fifty or so residents of the Village, waited to hear what was happening.

  Bill stretched out his arms to the police officers who’d accompanied Detective Almond. He almost fell over in the process. “I’ve already admitted my wrongdoing. Take me in. I deserve to be punished for killing Princess Isabelle.”

  A lot of murmuring ran through the residents. We were close to Mirror Lake. A shot rang out from the pirate ship, Queen’s Revenge. Sometimes the pirates practiced shooting off their cannons after the Village closed. It was enough to make a few people jump. The rest were annoyed.

  “I understand that, Mr. Warren.” Detective Almond moved closer to him. “I appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Thank you for making my job easier.”

  “I’m glad it’s out in the open.” Bill hung his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I’m sure we could’ve been lovers.”

  Someone close to me coughed as they muttered, “Yeah. Right.”

  I smiled triumphantly at Chase. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way about Isabelle.

  “Let’s finish this conversation downtown.” Detective Almond put his hand on Bill’s shoulder, and they started walking.

  “I wish I could renounce my elf magic.” Bill spat the words as though he hated them.

  Detective Almond stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

  “I killed Isabelle with my elf magic. It was a mistake. Sometimes I make the shoes and they’re out of control. I think they’re imbued with too much magic, you see. I had to forcibly stop a man from trying to climb a lamp pole once because he was wearing my climbing boots—they were only for mountain climbing. He might have been injured or killed trying to get up that post, especially since the boots would climb anything.”

  Chase shook his head. Detective Almond glared at him in the dim light.

  “So you’re saying your shoes killed Isabelle Franklin?” Detective Almond’s happy face was quickly disappearing into the disgusted expression he usually wore when he came to the Village.

  “Yes.” Bill wiped away a tear. “I made them too powerful, I guess. She danced right off the terrace. If she wouldn’t have been up that high, she could’ve danced until she fell down, exhausted. I didn’t reckon with when and where she’d put them on. I’m truly sorry.”

  I smiled—I knew Bill didn’t kill Isabelle. He thought his slippers did, but that was nonsense—unless she’d jumped over the rail while she was dancing.

  “Could I have a word with you, Bailiff?” Detective Almond called Chase outside the ever-growing group of residents.

  “That doesn’t sound like murder to me.” Merlin voiced his opinion.
“It would be the same with me if I cast a spell on someone and they died.”

  “Because you don’t really have any magic either,” I reminded him.

  “But Bill has elf magic,” Mother Goose said. “He should be somewhat responsible for that, don’t you think?”

  Roger huffed. “Don’t be absurd. There’s no such thing as elf, or any other kind of magic. Either the guy killed her or he didn’t. Shoes don’t kill people. The Bailiff should know better.”

  I agreed with Roger for once. Except for the part about Chase. Bill hadn’t told us everything. There was no way to know that he believed his shoes had killed Isabelle when we’d left Brewster’s.

  “I’ve seen him use his magic,” Phil Ferguson from the Sword Spotte said. “Tonight he made a tankard of ale completely disappear.”

  “He probably drank it, you idiot.” Roger shook his head. “I’m going home.”

  The coming of magic to the Village had definitely upset the fine line between fact and fiction that we all walked each day. Now no one was sure where the precarious line was that separated the two worlds. Some people believed—some didn’t.

  I was still on the line.

  Chase came back after exchanging words with Detective Almond. “He still wants to take Bill in for questioning. He thinks he might be confessing but using the magic thing as an insanity defense.”

  “You mean he doesn’t believe I have elf magic?” The expression on Bill’s face was one of complete amazement.

  “No. He doesn’t believe in magic,” Chase told him as two officers came to escort Bill to a car. “But maybe you can convince him. You’re going to spend some quality time with him for the next few hours.”

  Bill stared at me. “I’ve never lied about my magic. I can’t understand why he doesn’t believe me.”

  “Just go with them for now,” I said. “Don’t worry about a thing. You just tell them the truth and everything will be fine.”

  “Do you really believe that, Lady Jessie?” Bill’s eyes begged for an answer.

  “No. Not really.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I retrenched. “I don’t think you killed Isabelle. Do the best you can tonight. Chase will get you out tomorrow if he needs to.” I hugged him before the officers started walking away him.

  “Why did you tell him I’d get him out?” Chase asked. “You know I don’t practice that kind of law.”

  “You can bail him out if they charge him,” I reminded him. “But I’m telling you–Bill didn’t kill Isabelle.”

  “Why are you so certain, Jessie?”

  “Magic?”

  He frowned. “That’s what I thought.”

  There were some heavy sighs from the people around us. Merlin declared that he was going home. Phil Ferguson patted Chase on the back before he left.

  Fred the Red Dragon, wearing only the bottom of his costume, wished us both goodnight and asked if Bill going with the police meant he could have his house back to himself.

  “I’m sure Bill will be back tomorrow,” I answered. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

  Chase and I started back toward the Dungeon. “I can’t believe Bill thinks he killed Isabelle with magic shoes,” he said.

  “I think he really believes the elf magic thing. He takes it very seriously.”

  We walked past the quiet eateries of Polo’s Pasta and Three Pigs Barbecue. I could smell the smoky barbecue being readied for tomorrow. The Village Green was quiet as we shuffled through the lush green grass in the middle of the King’s Highway.

  “Do you believe it, Jessie?” Chase asked me.

  “I don’t know. If you’d asked me that question five years ago, I would’ve said no.” I glanced up at the stars. “Now, after our crazy wedding, and Wanda’s ghost—not to mention the sorcerer and Tilly Morgenstern—I’m not so positive about it.”

  “I know what you mean.” He put his arm around me as we walked. “What about me? Do you still believe in me?”

  “What do you mean? I know you’re real.” I pinched his arm and smiled as he yelped.

  “I mean do you still believe that I love you?”

  “Of course I do. Why are you asking?”

  He glanced away and then grinned before he kissed me. “Just thinking about what you said about Isabelle. You know, most of that was rumors and gossip. She wasn’t as bad as people made her sound.”

  “You knew her better than me, I guess.” Yes, Isabelle had dated Chase before I came along. She’d always claimed that I’d stolen him from her. What was he getting at?

  “You know everyone here loves a good story. The story doesn’t have to be true.”

  “I know that everyone loves to gossip, Chase. Are you worried about something they could be saying about us?”

  “No,” he denied.

  But I wasn’t sure I believed him and I had a hard time getting to sleep that night.

  Chapter Four

  Chase left early the next morning to find out what had happened to Bill. We’d expected him back during the night, but no one had knocked on our door.

  I wanted to go but had to stay to get everything set up for the exhibit. King Harold had sent a messenger to let me know that he wanted the museum to open with the shoe exhibit anyway, even if Bill didn’t come back. They’d spent too much money on advertising for the event. Visitors would see his work and his methods, the messenger had droned. Manny and I were to come up with a plan to escort visitors through the museum and describe how a shoemaker worked during the Renaissance.

  That part wouldn’t be too hard since I’d done my homework so I could answer questions during the exhibit. The hard part was going to be explaining while all the banners and ads said we were going to have a real, live shoemaker, but he wasn’t there.

  The Village opened at ten a.m. like always. The cobblestone walkway that circled the Village was crowded with new and strange actors. I immediately noticed a man dressed like a llama who only talked with his puppet hand.

  Yeah. Like he was going to make it to day two.

  There was also a woman with huge blue bird wings that flapped up and down as she walked. She called out in the most authentic bird voice I’d ever heard. I saw Lord Maximus, who runs the Hawk Stage with his birds of prey show, eyeing her with a look of distaste and envy.

  She wouldn’t make the cut either.

  I looked at the little cloth-covered book they’d given each of the permanent shopkeepers and actors to write down which actors and characters they saw and liked during the day. I wrote a notation about bird woman and llama man. I probably didn’t need to bother since they didn’t have a chance, but I liked them.

  People didn’t realize that the best way to get on at the Village was to become one of the characters already there. People were always leaving—there had been three King Arthurs in the last six months. The weird and exotic wasn’t necessarily what the Village was looking for.

  The trio of musicians who were playing at the museum opening were very excited about being there, and the extra money promised them by Adventureland. We talked about the music they’d play.

  Each of them had a different stringed instrument—cello, violin, and mandolin. They had a good sound together, and I thought they’d do a wonderful job. I hoped the gig would get them noticed by the management. The trio had no permanent place to play each day. They were moved from courtyard to gazebo to stall all over the Village.

  I left them, feeling pleased with their music. I was headed toward the Honey and Herb Shoppe that had been tapped to provide refreshments for the event. Not that I had to worry about what Mrs. Potts, the owner, would do. But she could need help, and I was hoping she might have a few honey cookies fresh from the oven.

  Before I could reach her shop, Wanda Le Fey—the resident ghost Bill and I had been talking about—joined me.

  Wanda would be forever blue thanks to a packet of dye I’d put in her shower before she died. How did I know someone would be waiting to kill her when she got out? Her bright red hair str
eamed around her blue face with a life of its own, wind currents that I couldn’t feel, blowing past her.

  “Good morning, your ladyship.” She was as British in life as shew as in death. She made an awkward curtsey. It didn’t really matter since her feet didn’t touch the ground.

  Did I mention she was also completely naked? I guessed she’d be that way forever too.

  “Wanda.”

  “What brings you out on this fine morning?”

  “I’m working. What have you been up to?” I could see people passing me, staring at me as it appeared that I was talking to myself. Occasionally someone stared at Wanda, and I knew he or she could see her too. They probably wondered if Wanda was real or just an actor playing a floating, naked, blue woman.

  “A little of this, and a little of that.” She stretched her smile maliciously. “I frightened an entire group of children visiting from a daycare not five minutes ago. The little tikes ran hither and yon as their guardians tried to stop them. It was quite amusing.”

  “I’ll bet it was. Why don’t you try doing good things for a change? That might be fun too.”

  “Oh Jessie, you know I’m not made that way. I had the best times when I was a nurse here, wrapping bandages too tightly and making injections hurt. It’s who I am. But I’m so much better now.”

  “You should hope one of those ghost hunter groups who come through to find you don’t ever come with an exorcist. You might find yourself in a much worse place to haunt.”

  She laughed as she lifted her face to the morning sun. “I quite love my death, thank you.” Then she turned her baleful, dead eyes on me. “But you aren’t looking so happy this morning. Trouble in paradise with your Bailiff? I did warn you that marriage wouldn’t be as sweet. You didn’t listen. Now every young woman who goes to him for help will look like a way out of the trap you’ve put him in.”

  As she spoke, a group of attractive young women went by us in their thin, low-cut summer gowns. They smiled and flicked their parasols, the breezes from the Atlantic wafting through their silky hair.