Death in Castle Dark, page 22
“Derek, I think it’s a good idea,” Renata said.
“Assuming that Garrett’s attacker was an outsider,” I said, “do we have to worry that person will take this opportunity to come back and attack someone else?”
Derek grew solemn. “Paul and I have talked with the police. They’ll be on the premises, as well.”
“It sounds kind of spooky,” I said.
“Which is good publicity,” Paul said. “That’s sort of our claim to fame.”
We ate our dessert in a festive mood, planning the details of the bonfire and feeling a certain shared relief at the prospect of something positive on the horizon.
Connie tended to linger with Derek these days, so I walked up the stairs on my own. Even Hamlet had deserted me this evening, which was oddly depressing. I followed the brave beam of light to my door and locked myself securely in my room. Charlotte strolled up to me on crayon-sized legs; she had obviously been drinking water, and it had given her a pointy gray beard. “You look very wise, Charlotte,” I said, and she began to purr. I scooped her up and took her to the bed.
I had been wondering whether or not I should contact John Dashiell about Jade’s revelations. It felt rather tattly, but at the same time some of her details had seemed important. I set Charlotte down and lifted my phone. I found Dashiell’s number and typed:
Dash, you should talk to Jade Balfour at Balfour Bakery.
I pressed send before I chickened out and set my phone down. It buzzed a moment later, and something in my stomach turned over with a ticklish sensation.
I picked it up, opened the screen, and read:
Hello, Nora. Why should I do that?
I was talking to her today, and she knew some things I’d never heard.
A moment later my phone rang. I panicked; I hadn’t planned to talk to him. Then I took a deep breath. “Don’t be a fool,” I said to myself, and I slid my finger over the answer button. “Hello?”
“Nora.”
Oh, God. Had I never realized how sexy his voice was?
“Yes, hello.”
“What did this young lady tell you?”
“Well, she was being kind of—whimsical—and making up motives for everyone in the castle. And in the process she told me that Derek and Garrett had recently had a loud and public fight.”
Rustling on his side. “When was this?”
“She said maybe two months ago. And that it was the talk of the town or at least of the theater crowd.”
“Did she say what it was about?”
“She didn’t know.”
He was tapping keys in the background. I tried to picture him at his desk. What did it look like? How big was his office? Did he have a window? “What else?” he said.
“Oh, uh—she hinted that Renata might drink a lot. And she suggested that Garrett was trying to replace Zana with his girlfriend, Sora.”
“And are these just the gossipy assumptions of a teenager?”
“Probably. But I thought she might be worth talking to nonetheless. She works in the bakery and sees lots of people, and she misses nothing. Oh, she also said that when Garrett came in with his girlfriend, he always looked nervous. Looking over his shoulder, she said. I mean it—she’s sharp.”
“Hmm,” he said, typing again. “Well, thank you for this information. I will follow up on it.”
“Okay. I assume you know about Derek’s bonfire?”
“I’ll be there. Will I see you?”
“You probably will. Derek is asking us to mill around in the crowd, talking up the mystery parties. He’s asked Elspeth to dress us up in something ‘patriotic but dramatic.’ ”
“I can’t wait to see her interpretation of that directive,” he said. His voice was wry, but also held a touch of flirtation.
“I’ll see you then, Detective Dashiell.”
Something in my voice must have encouraged him, because he was chuckling as I ended the call.
18
Fire in the Dark
I smelled the fire long before I left the castle. Paul, Derek, and Tim had been visible outside Connie’s window earlier in the day, building the wood-and-stone structure that would contain the bonfire. Derek had notified the fire department, and a representative came out to make sure that everything was far enough away from both the castle and the woods.
Elspeth showed up at my door with a costume draped over her arm and a happy smile brightening her face. She held up her “patriotic yet dramatic” design, and I said, “No.”
“Oh, come on! Derek has already approved it, and you and Connie will match. It’s kind of an homage to the disco era.”
“Connie!” I yelled.
Connie came out of her room, holding her book, and Elspeth held up the costumes.
“Seriously?” Connie said. “You expect us to wear those? Did you want people to think we were members of ABBA?”
“Sort of,” Elspeth said. “I was going for that look.”
She had found slinky one-piece jumpsuits with low necklines and bell-bottom pants. They looked like something from a production of Hair.
“You’ll be amazed by how they look on you,” she coaxed. “Connie, I think the white one for you, and the red one for Nora, and then I have a blue-and-white polka-dot neck scarf for both of you.”
I stared at Connie, who was smirking at the outfits. “Okay, I’ll wear it,” I said.
“Great!” said Elspeth.
“If Tim does.”
She looked like the proverbial cat that had dined on a canary. “You think you caught me out with that, don’t you? Tim’s is blue. Derek says they will be fantastic eye-catching costumes, and he figures the three of you can pass out pamphlets for the castle. So everyone will know you’re in character.”
“It’s asking a lot, El,” Connie said.
“Wait till you see the awesome platform shoes I found,” she said, clearly excited. “Nora, you’re a size seven, right?”
I stomped my foot. “No. I’ll wear the costume, but I won’t wear high heels. We’ll be on the grass, in the dark. And there are, like, gopher holes. I’m not risking my life for a photo op.”
Elspeth sighed deeply. I had tampered with her creative vision. She gave me a sorrowful look and said, “All right, ballet flats it is.” She handed me the red suit. “Try this on so I can see if it needs hemming.”
She turned and began plodding toward her room, acting the part of the dejected artist, but I said, my voice suspicious, “Hang on! What are you and Renata wearing?”
With a shrug, she said, “Derek made this a ticketed event, even though the tickets are free. Renata and I will be at the front gate taking tickets, so he told us to wear our Castle Dark T-shirts and Fourth of July hats.”
“Convenient,” I said.
“You’re going to look amazing,” she assured me.
Two hours later Connie and I stood next to each other, clad in formfitting pantsuits that made us look like Elton John’s backup singers. We had tied on our blue scarves and wore our hair down and straight, at Derek’s request.
“Your boyfriend is going to owe me one,” I said, feeling moody.
Connie started leaping around. “It’s actually really comfortable material, Nora! Almost like pajamas. It’s growing on me.”
“That’s because you look outrageously sexy in yours. I look like some weird holiday prostitute.”
“Come here. I’m taking a selfie.” She pulled me toward her, and I managed not to frown into the camera while she took pictures of us together.
“Send that to my sister,” I said. “I’ll ask for her fashion opinion.” I gave her Gen’s number.
Her thumbs moved rapidly on her phone. “Gen? That’s a neat name. Is it short for something?”
“Genevieve.”
“Oh, how pretty! Your parents were good at naming kids.”
“Yeah, I guess.” My phone buzzed, and I saw I had a text from Gen:
Those are amazing! Retro but somehow nouveau. Love it.
“Huh,” I said, showing it to Connie.
She laughed. “See? Derek knows his stuff.”
“Let’s get this over with,” I said. It was the best I could do in the circumstances.
* * *
* * *
The fire created a dramatic tableau: orange flames shooting toward the star-filled sky, people jostling against one another, sometimes holding sparklers that briefly illuminated laughing faces. The castle loomed behind the flames, a dark and Gothic silhouette looking like a burned-out shell of itself. In the firelit dark, our costumes were less garish and more festive. Derek’s vision had been right. Even Tim, in his blue pantsuit that Renata said “made him look like a Bay City Roller” (whatever that was), seemed to get into the spirit of the thing and tried out some disco moves as he engaged the crowd, handing out pamphlets and chatting with visitors.
Connie found me at one point and spoke close to my ear so that I could hear her over the noise. “I’m so glad that we can do something happy and positive. Derek is brilliant. The people are having fun, and the bonfire is fantastic!”
It was a beautiful fire, a big, bright, and gorgeous study of heat and light and combustion. It was the heart of history and mythology and folklore. It was primal, a key element in every story ever told. . . .
“You have a weird look on your face,” Connie said.
“I’m just enjoying this. The fire, the sky, the night air. I’m used to the city. This is the best part of my move to Wood Glen.”
“That and your friend Connie.”
I put an affectionate arm around her. “That’s true.”
She looked around with an eager expression. “I’m going to pass out some pamphlets and find something to drink. Zana has a refreshment table over there. Do you want anything?”
“Not right now,” I said.
She nodded and skipped off in her effervescent way.
Prompted by Connie, I made a halfhearted journey through the crowd, passing out Derek’s pamphlets for the castle. I saw various couples on the outskirts of the group kissing in the shadows. What a romantic evening this would be, really, if someone was dating. I tucked the rest of the pamphlets into a little bag I had slung over my shoulder and let myself be a bystander once again. My fascination with the fire continued, and I didn’t even notice the person next to me until he touched my arm.
“The costume has exceeded my expectations.”
I turned to face John Dashiell, the former gardener of Castle Dark. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a dark shirt. “Hmph,” I said. “I will be charging Derek money for every mosquito bite that I get in a weird place.”
He grinned. “Hello, Nora.”
“Hello, Dash.”
We exchanged a look in the smoky orange light. “Have you captured some business?” he asked.
“I think so. Have you found any criminals?”
“Not so far. The night is young.”
I laughed and looked back at the fire. Dashiell’s hand brushed mine, a tentative gesture, and then it curved around my palm and squeezed. I returned the pressure and experienced a sudden sensory overload: bright orange flames, murky smoke, a woodsy scent, the warm pressure of his hand, a burst of euphoria. . . .
Turning, I met his eyes and opened my mouth to speak, but was jostled by a man who staggered past, smelling of beer. “Hey,” I managed, and then a teenage girl jogged up and handed me a sparkler. I said, “I don’t have any way to light it.”
Someone in the crowd said, “Here, light it on mine.” A hand held out a lit sparkler, and I automatically put the fuse of mine against it. It was Tim; I noticed his school ring, with a stone that was blue and square, glimmering in the light. But then I happened to see someone disco-dancing in the midst of a group about thirty feet away—someone dressed in blue with a cap of blond hair. That was Tim.
I looked back at the man next to me and saw that it was Tyler, and he was standing next to Bethany, who had somehow escaped having to wear a costume at all because she had told Derek that she wanted to come as a visitor with her husband.
Tyler. Tyler was wearing a ring identical to Tim’s, which meant that Tyler had gone to Tim’s high school. Tyler had known Garrett Perth—yet Bethany had never once mentioned it. Perhaps she didn’t know; she said they had met after college, at Lollapalooza. Now the two of them stood talking, their heads close together, their words inaudible. Was it my imagination that they looked sinister? Was that simply an effect caused by the weird light?
John Dashiell bent toward me. “Are you all right?”
I turned so that Bethany and Tyler were behind me and leaned closer to the detective so that I didn’t have to raise my voice. “Dash, there’s something weird here.”
“What?”
“Hang on. I have to ask Tim something.” I moved toward Tim, picking my way through the crowd and holding my sparkler as I would a strange candle. I thought of Renata playing Lady Macbeth. Of her saying “Hell is murky.” The smoke was growing more plentiful, and Derek and Paul appeared out of the thick air to throw more wood on the fire, looking like dark, handsome devils. I reached Tim; Dashiell was close behind me.
“Tim,” I said.
He turned, surprised. He looked a bit disheveled and sweaty from all his dancing. “Hey, Nora. Hey, Detective. What’s going on?”
“Come over here,” I said, and I pulled him away from the crowd to a spot where no one was standing, farther from the fire. Dashiell followed. “You never told me Tyler went to high school with you,” I said. Dash stiffened beside me.
“Who?” Tim asked, his face blank.
“Tyler. Bethany’s husband. He has the same school ring as you.”
“What? I don’t know him very well. Are you sure it’s not just a similar—” He was looking through the crowd, and his eyes lighted on Tyler and Bethany. “Oh, my God,” he said.
“What?” Dashiell prompted.
“There was a kid named Tyler at my high school. He was in drama, actually. He was kind of a joke, a terrible actor. He applied for a scholarship to Juilliard, but of course he never even got an interview. If that’s him—wow, he looks different. He’s bulked up. He was a skinny kid back then.”
“So he knew Garrett in those days?” I said.
“Yeah, sure. He took a bunch of drama classes. He hero-worshipped Garrett, but he ended up hating him because—” His eyes grew wide as he realized what he had just said.
“Because what?” I said.
“Because Garrett refused to write him a recommendation for Juilliard. Tyler threw a fit.”
Dashiell said, “Excuse me,” and started walking toward the newlyweds, except that they had disappeared. Dashiell, too, was soon lost in the crowd. Moments later I got a text from him:
I don’t want you actors out here. Get everyone you can back in the castle until I find this guy.
Mildly alarmed, I showed the text to Tim, who looked stunned. He scanned the smoky darkness and said, “I’m going to tell Derek; he’s not going to want to leave while all these people are here. And he and Paul won’t want to leave the fire unattended. But maybe he’ll help me round everyone up. Go find Connie, and I’ll meet you at the entrance with whoever I can find.”
I nodded and plunged into the crowd, scanning for Connie’s white pantsuit. I didn’t see her. Might Derek have already whisked her inside? And was Dashiell perhaps being a bit too melodramatic? Maybe I had misunderstood about Tyler. Maybe his ring really was from some other school. Even if he had gone to Tim’s school, it could mean nothing—just be a coincidence.
It was odd, though, that so many people from the same school hadn’t recognized one another in the castle. Garrett hadn’t recognized Tim, nor had Renata. Tim hadn’t recognized Tyler—had Tyler recognized Tim? He certainly could have recognized Garrett, which gave him a motive to kill, assuming that he had held a grudge for almost ten years. Was it possible to maintain that level of anger?
I still couldn’t see Connie; the crowd seemed to have grown larger in the last half hour, and the lawn was thick with bodies. I struggled away from the bonfire and moved toward the castle entrance; I would text Connie to meet me there.
Despite the large fire, the front steps were dark and shadowed. I shivered a little, finding Connie’s number and sending a text:
Meet me at the front entrance.
I heard footsteps in the dark; I stiffened. A young couple wandered past hand in hand; they were clearly looking for a place to kiss. They saw me, and I pointed toward the fire. “That’s the public event. This is the owner’s private property,” I said. “Visitors should stay on the back lawn.”
Clearly not pleased with me, the two turned and stalked back toward the south entrance. A moment later Bethany appeared, looking confused. “Nora, have you seen Tyler? He said something about getting a drink, but then he disappeared. And he’s not answering my texts.” She stared at her phone as if surprised by its silence.
“Uh—no, I haven’t seen him. Bethany, you should probably wait here with me. Tim and Connie will be here soon, and some others. Dashiell wants us—”
“What?” She blinked at me. “I’m ready to go home. I have to find Tyler; we came here together as visitors. I’m not on the castle staff tonight.”
“I understand that, but listen, Bethany, I’m just putting some things together, and I think that Tyler might be a danger to you.”
She laughed. “Tyler? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s wonderful and very protective. I told you, he knows martial—”
“I think he may have had a grudge against Garrett.”
“What? Tyler didn’t know Garrett.” She ran a hand through her red hair, which glowed like the fire in the darkness. She stared at her phone again, shrugged, and slipped it into a pocket of her purse.
