The Speculative Short Stories of Barbara Paul, page 25
“Was he?” Female asked. “An ex-husband? Did you and Nathan ever get a divorce?”
“Well, of course we were divorced!” Noseburner cried.
“Then we’ll need to see your divorce papers.”
“Divorce papers? I don’t know where any divorce papers are! Do you expect me to keep track of everything?” Her voice rose so high and shrill feat McCat hissed.
“Then tell us where and when you were divorced. We’ll check with fee authorities there.”
Everyone waited for her response; this time even Groomer kept quiet. Noseburner said, “I don’t have to tell you anything!”
“The truth is,” Male said, “feat you and Nathan never were divorced. He was holding feat over your head, threatening to queer your marriage to Sam Steinmetz. Is that how Nathan got a costarring role in this picture after it was already set for only two leading roles? You talked Sam into signing him... in exchange for Nathan’s silence?”
Noseburner didn’t respond.
“He was blackmailing you,” Male went on, “but not for cash. You were to be his pipeline to one of the most important men in Hollywood. That was to be your arrangement. And it would never end." He sighed resignedly. “So you killed him.”
After a moment of dead silence, Female said, “You know we’re going to arrest you for murder, don’t you? You can prevent that by telling us where you were divorced If you were divorced, there’s no blackmail. One more chance before we take you in. Where and when were you divorced?” Noseburner raised her head. “I want my lawyer.”
“Right.” Female turned to her partner. “Care to do the honors?”
“Why don’t they ever confess, the way they do in the movies?” Male pulled out a pair of handcuffs and read Noseburner her rights.
“What are you doing?” Boss screamed. “You can’t arrest her! Are you trying to destroy me?”
“Take it easy,” Female said.
“But she can’t be replaced! Steinmetz will cancel the picture! You can't arrest her!”
Female raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously suggesting we let a murderer go free so you can make a movie?”
“Y-y-you can arrest her after the picture’s done!” Boss stammered. “Keep her under guard—twenty-four hours a day! We’ll pick up the tab!”
Female just smiled and shook her head. Boss sank down to the floor of the set with a groan and sat there with his legs stretched out in front of him, holding his aching head with both hands.
And just like that, it was over. The last McCat saw of the two interesting strangers, they were leading Noseburner away. From this space. Forever.
McCat could live with that.
SWIMMING THE MOAT
Barbara Paul
Published in Castle Fantastic anthology, March 1996
If you read mysteries, you know that Barbara Paul is the popular author of many mystery novels. If you read science fiction, you know her as a writer in that genre as well. In this piece she shrouds a bright, fanciful fairy tale in mystery and murder.
Hänsel and Philomena had opened a casement window and were leaning out staring at the moat below. “First he bums the drawbridge,” Hänsel grumbled. “Then he cuts the telephone lines. Now he fills the moat with sharks.”
“He doesn’t want us to leave,” Philomena said unnecessarily. A morning breeze ruffled the feathers of her cape.
“Whoever would have thought Eggy could be so vindictive?”
“Vindictive?” She pointed her beaklike nose at him. “He just wants us to find out who killed him. What’s vindictive about that?”
“Then why didn’t he just tell us to call the police?” Hänsel demanded. “Or summon up Sherlock Holmes or V. I. Warshawski, somebody like that?”
“You’ve met the local constable,” Philomena pointed out. “He can’t find his own feet, much less a murderer. As for ‘summoning up’ an experienced detective... maybe Eggy can’t. He doesn’t know what 260 all his new powers are yet. After all, he’s never been dead before.”
Hänsel stuck his hands in the pockets of his lederhosen. “I wish you’d stop being so damned reasonable.”
She laughed and floated away from the window.
Hänsel turned his gaze back down toward the moat. The sharks were big, ugly brutes, more like an F/X designer’s dream of monsterness than real-life Carcharodon carcharias. One of the sharks raised its head out of the water and snapped its teeth menacingly toward the casement window. “Yeah, I see you,” Hänsel said.
Lord Eggleston, their erstwhile host and current dead person, had been stabbed in the back with a Swiss army knife. He never saw his attacker. So Eggy had appeared to them vaporously with the caveat that no one would be allowed to leave the castle until his killer was identified. Hänsel had made the mistake of announcing his intention of swimming the moat. Eggy had heard him; thus the sharks.
There were only five guests in the castle. Hänsel knew he hadn’t done it, and he was as sure as he could be that Philomena wasn’t in the habit of solving her problems with a Swiss army knife. It had to be one of the other three. But why would anyone want to kill the lord of the castle? He was a good, er, egg—everybody’s friend and nobody’s enemy.
The sound of running footsteps made Hänsel turn from the window. Mittsy came sprinting toward him, face aglow and blond curls bouncing. She stood on the tiptoes of her saddle oxfords to whisper, so the ghost of Lord Eggleston wouldn’t hear: “BonBon is digging a tunnel under the moat!”
Hänsel felt a surge of hope; what a good idea! He bent down and whispered in Mittsy’s ear: “Where is he?”
“In Dungeon Number Three,” she whispered back. “BonBon could use some help. All four of us. Where are Philomena and Ruby Red?”
“Phil was just here. I haven’t seen Ruby for a while.”
But before they could go looking for the other two, something happened. The light in the chamber disappeared, flickered back to life, then dimmed just slightly. The air shimmered in front of their eyes. The smell of cotton candy filled their nostrils.
Lord Eggleston’s ghost materialized... or tried to. One arm went stretching out in elasticized frenzy. His neck elongated so that the top of his lordly head was touching the ceiling. To add to his problems, his ghostly raiment tried to levitate while his feet never left the floor.
“He really should be better at that by now,” Mittsy murmured.
The ghost finally got himself together and belatedly adopted a dignified stance. “This visitation is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose,” he intoned.
Hänsel sighed. “Hamlet, act three, scene four. C’mon, Eggy.”
“Well, you need a little whetting,” the ghost said fretfully. “All you’re doing is looking for ways to get out of here. You’re not still thinking of swimming the moat, are you?”
“No, the sharks took care of that. But what do you expect? You’re keeping us here against our wills.”
“You think that’s a problem? How would you like to be in my shoes?”
He had a point. “But Eg, nobody here knows how to investigate a murder.”
“Now, now, mustn’t be defeatest,” the ghost scolded. “You’ve always been the clever one, Hänsel. Find a way.”
“He’s the clever one?” Mittsy said in irritation. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“Anything but, Mittsyluv,” Lord Eggleston said soothingly. “We’ve always needed you. You’re our cheerleader.”
Mittsy perked up. “Oh. That’s all right, then.”
“Eg,” Hänsel said hesitantly, “can’t you, ah, just go back and see who it was poked you with that knife?”
“The spirit world does not have time travel,” the lord of the castle explained patiently. “Nor do we have omniscience. Do you think I’d be going through this rigamarole if I knew any shortcuts?”
“Guess not. Okay, then. Tell us exactly what happened when you were killed.”
Just then Philomena appeared in the doorway. “I thought I smelled cotton candy—oh.” She broke off when she saw the ghost.
“Come on in, Phil,” Hänsel said. “Eggy’s about to tell us what happened when he was killed.”
“Then we are going to try to find the killer?”
“You bet,” Mittsy said enthusiastically. “And we can do it!” Living up to her role as cheerleader.
Hänsel asked, “What happened, Eg? How much did you see?”
The ghost cleared his ethereal throat. “As I was sewing in my closet—”
Hänsel waggled a finger at him. “Hamlet again.”
“Er, right. Ahem. It happened in my bedchamber, you know. I was standing before the fireplace, watching the flames, when I felt this intense pointed pain in my back. Then I woke up dead.”
There was a long silence. “Well,” said Philomena, “that was helpful.”
“Okay, forget that.” Hänsel thought a moment. “Eg, what about motive? Nobody had it in for you. Certainly nobody here.”
Lord Eggleston shuffled his feet soundlessly and refused to meet their eyes; an embarrassed ghost is a disconcerting sight under the best of circumstances. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “all five of you have a motive. You just don’t know it yet.”
“What are you talking about?” Mittsy sounded confused.
“You all think I invited you here for a normal, traditional, fun-filled weekend at the castle, don’t you?” the ghost asked rhetorically. “Well, I had something else in mind this time.”
“What?” Philomena demanded.
“Fluffy Bunny Downs.”
They all stared. “You mean the rabbit race track?” Mittsy asked.
“Oh, don’t play Little Miss Innocent!” the ghost said scornfully. “You’re as hooked on the rabbit races as everyone else here! All five of you. And you’re in deep. You owe a lot of money, all of you.” He paused. “Well, I bought up your markers. Fifty cents on the kloznik. I asked you here to tell you I expected full payment within a week.”
“Eggy!” Philomena cried plaintively. “And I thought you were one of the Good Guys!” The feathers of her cape were standing on end. “Why? Why were you doing this?”
“Why? Do you have any idea how much it costs to run a castle these days? I needed the money, that’s why!”
“But,” said Hänsel, “but if none of us knew...”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lord Eggleston asked. “One of you found out.”
They digested that for a minute. Then Mittsy pointed to the floor. “Um, Eggy?”
Lord Eggleston’s left foot had lengthened itself so that the toe of the boot was almost touching the opposing wall. With an effort he got it back to its normal size. “Look, it’s hard for me to stay in shape,” he apologized. “I’m going to have to leave for a while. But you find out who knew I held those markers, and you’ll know who the killer is. Now, hop to it!” He started to disintegrate.
“Before you go completely to pieces,” Hänsel asked, “who was in deepest? Who owed the most money?”
“Ruby Red!” a ghostly voice echoed in the room.
“Ruby Red,” Mittsy repeated breathlessly. “She did it. She’s the killer.”
Philomena stared. “That must be the all-time record for jumping to conclusions.”
“But who is she, really?” Mittsy persisted. “We don’t know much about her.”
“I don’t know much about you,” Philomena said pointedly, smoothing down the feathers of her cape.
“You’ve known me for years!”
“I’ve known you to speak to for years, that’s all. I look at you and all I see is a… a cheerleader.”
Mittsy beamed. “That’s what Eggy said, too.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Hänsel muttered.
They all lapsed into silence, trying to think what to do next. Their ruminations were interrupted by a heavy thud as a vibration ran through the room and the glass in the casement window rattled. Another thud, followed by still another.
A giant stood outside the doorway. His head sat squarely on huge neckless shoulders that were wider than the door opening, his dangling fingertips reaching halfway between knees and ankles. Tiny close-set eyes, low forehead, thrusting jaw. A tear was running down one cheek.
“BonBon!” Philomena exclaimed. “What’s the matter?”
The giant turned sideways, ducked his head, and sidestepped his way into the chamber. “It would seem,” BonBon said in a voice like a low rumble of thunder, “that our host had already anticipated an endeavor to excavate our way out of this unasked-for confinement. Whatever phantasmic powers he now possesses, they have enabled Lord Eggleston to implant a subterranean obstruction that all my experiments indicate to be unqualifiedly impenetrable by the only tools currently at my disposal.”
“Huh?” said Mittsy.
“There’s a steel wall under the moat.”
“Oh, shoot.”
“Never mind, BonBon,” Hänsel said. “We’ve decided to try to figure out who Eggy’s killer is.” He repeated what the lord of the castle had told them about buying up their gambling markers. “So what we need to do is find out which one of us knew about it.”
“And we can do it!” Mittsy said enthusiastically.
“Interesting,” BonBon mused. “How does one prove the possession of knowledge? If it were a material object, a simple search would prove efficacious in all likelihood. But this new development does explain why the five of us specifically are here—I assumed I was the only one of us addicted to wagering on the rabbit races. Even you, Hänsel? I’d have thought you were too clever for that.”
“Afraid so.” He bent over to pull up his knee socks, hiding his discomfort at being shown to be as big a sucker as anybody.
“Ruby Red’s more addicted than any of us,” Mittsy offered. “Her debt is the biggest. Eggy said so.”
“Where is Ruby?” Hänsel asked. “I haven’t seen her for hours.”
“She’s in her bedchamber,” Philomena replied. “Grieving. Mourning the loss of the love of her life.”
“Eggy?” Mittsy said incredulously.
“So she says.”
“How long did they know each other?” Hänsel asked.
“About two days, I think.”
They all exchanged looks. “Something fishy there,” Hänsel said. “Doesn’t quite jibe with what Eggy told us about the markers. We ought to ask Ms. Ruby Red a few questions, methinks.”
“If she deigns to talk to us,” Mittsy sniffed. “Remember the entrance she made yesterday? Too busy playing the glamorous siren to speak to us common folk. She won’t tell us what we want to know.”
“Reluctant as I am to cater to stereotyping,” the giant said, “maybe I could pound it out of her.”
“That might not be necessary,” Hänsel said hastily. “The situation has changed—she might be willing to talk to us now. Let’s try that first.”
“I’ll go get her,” BonBon said. He did his stoop and sideways shuffle out the door.
The others followed him out; they were in the Grand Corridor that ran the full length of the castle. They watched as the giant started groping through the air, his long arms searching the space in front of him. Finally, a small thunk, and BonBon carefully felt his way onto the invisible escalator. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he rode up into the air.
“Do you think he could have done it?” Mittsy whispered.
“Look at him,” Philomena answered as the giant stepped off the escalator at the next floor. “Do you really think BonBon needs a Swiss army knife to kill someone?”
They didn’t have to wait long. They heard Ruby Red before they could see her, screaming out a barrage of vituperation in a language unknown to them. They may not have understood what the words meant, but they knew cussing when they heard it.
BonBon appeared at the top of the invisible escalator carrying a red-skinned, red-haired woman under one arm. Ruby Red was kicking and fighting for all she was worth, but the giant wasn’t about to let go. Cautiously he felt ahead of him with one foot and then stepped forward into seemingly empty space. “She didn’t want to come,” BonBon said as they rode down through the air.
“Do you think that’s her natural color?” Mittsy whispered to Philomena. “I think she dyes her skin.”
“Let’s go in here.” Hänsel led the way into the cavernous dining hall.
BonBon plunked Ruby Red down in the chair at the head of the table; the rest of them took seats on both sides of her. When she saw all the others staring at her, she burst into tears. At least she made the sounds of weeping; Hänsel couldn’t actually see any tears.
“Why do you disturb me at a moment like this?” Ruby Red asked through her maybe-tears. Now that she’d finished with her screaming fit, her voice was soft and tinged with the hint of an exotic accent.
“Ruby, you knew Eggy only two days,” Hänsel said. “Why all this grief?”
“I have known Lord Eggleston all my life,” she said dramatically.
“You told me two days,” Philomena commented, less dramatically.
“But those two days contained a lifetime of joy.” Ruby dabbed daintily at the red skin under her eyes with a lace handkerchief she’d produced from somewhere. “You must understand how it was with us. There was a bond between us, a fink. How do I explain?” Her accent grew stronger. “An instant understanding, from the very moment our eyes first met—”
“Where?” Hänsel asked.
“I beg your pardon?” She didn’t like having her big scene interrupted.
“Where were you when your eyes first met?”
Her face softened at the memory. “At Fluffy Bunny Downs. Alas, I was in debt to these terrible men... but Lord Eggleston took care of it for me. That wonderful man actually bought my markers, out of his own pocket!”
BonBon made a noise that could have been a laugh. “And that is how Little Red Ruby Hood was eaten by the wolf. I fear, dear lady, you have been somewhat gullible.”
