A Geek Girl's Guide to Justice (The Geek Girl Mysteries) Read online

  I nodded magnanimously to the maidens outside the replica castle gates as I approached. “Good day.”

  “Good day,” they echoed with a curtsy.

  The orchard was beautiful this time of year. Strands of twinkle lights wrapped the limbs of most trees, ready to illuminate the evening. Lines of pinwheels and painted fairy statues stood sentinel at vendor booths. Rennies in every form of costume strode merrily along, whistling or humming to the music of a live minstrel band.

  “Mia!” Marvin waved to me from several feet away. He carried a giant drumstick half wrapped in grease-soaked butcher paper. “I was fetching Mary a snack. Can I get you anything?”

  Until Marvin had come along last fall, Grandma and I had solidarity in our singleness. Alas, he was a gem of a man who loved the Faire and performed seasonally as a magician. There was no competing with that. Plus, he made her happy, so I’d never dare interfere.

  I ignored the pang of emotion that bounced in my chest. Whatever that was about, I didn’t have time for it. “No, thank you. I had lunch with Nate and Bree.”

  He frowned. “Ah, yes. The shower details.” He fell in step beside me when I reached him. “How’s that going?”

  “Two weeks until it’s over.”

  He chuckled. “Right. Right. And what about you? How are you doing? I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

  “Life goes on.” I cringed at my poor choice of words. “Staying busy helps. I tend to dwell. I think I owned a mirror store in a past life, and destroyed my inventory with a hammer.”

  We moved in companionable silence to the Guinevere’s Golden Beauty booth.

  Grandma hustled out to collect her drumstick. She lifted onto her toes and kissed Marvin’s cheek. “Thanks, babe.” Her long gray braid swung against her hips.

  I scooped a sample basket off our counter. “You were right about Angelina Weiss. She didn’t seem to care Dante was gone. She said everyone hated him.”

  “Shrew,” Grandma grumbled against the side of her drumstick. “What else?”

  “She has an alibi.”

  Grandma mulled that over. “That’s too bad.”

  I nodded, unsure if she was disappointed we hadn’t solved the case in twenty-four hours or if she’d hoped to see Angelina in jail.

  She wiped her mouth on a napkin and gave me a curious look. “Your wiring people made it in okay, and they didn’t get in the policemen’s way because they finally finished dragging the lake.”

  Shoot. I’d forgotten about the wiring crew again. My brain couldn’t seem to hold a thought that didn’t relate to what had happened at the lake. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  Marvin tipped his hat to a passing group of women with shopping bags.

  I handed samples of Buxom Beauty to the group and smiled. “Well? Did you see what they found? When did they find it?”

  Grandma waited until the shoppers were out of earshot. “I didn’t check the time. All I know is I was taking lunch to Bernie and saw the police wrapping something in plastic. After that, they packed up and rolled out.”

  “What did it look like?”

  She handed me her drumstick and wiped her hands on a napkin. “I got a picture.” She dug in her purse and fished out a flip phone. “Here.”

  I stared at the grainy photo. “Why don’t you use the new phone I got you? It has the best camera on the market. This is awful.”

  “No it’s not.” She pulled glasses from her apron pocket and squinted at the terrible photo. “The new phone has too many buttons. All I want a phone to do is make and accept calls. It took me years to learn to use this camera. Why can’t people just buy a phone anymore?”

  I rolled my eyes skyward. “You don’t have to use all the apps. Use what you like and ignore the rest. Call. Text. Take pics. There aren’t rules obliging you to operate every aspect of the device.”

  “Then why pay for all those gizmos you don’t use? It wastes money.”

  “It really doesn’t.”

  She guffawed. “Why does my phone have to be an email and a calendar and a flashlight? Why does it have to be my record player and radio and step counter?”

  “Grandma,” I interrupted. “Never mind. Don’t use the other phone. This one is great. I’m glad you got a picture.” I rubbed my thumb across the screen. “What’s it a picture of? Is that a sword?”

  “Too short. Maybe a dagger. There’s a lot of mud.”

  “I was thinking.” I softened my voice to cushion the question. “Do you think one of Dante’s clients could have killed him as a result of some perceived injustice? He didn’t have to have an enemy to die. People attack randomly sometimes. Crime of passion. Nothing preconceived, just a moment of insanity. Sometimes the killers are the only ones who know why they’re mad.” I wasn’t convinced Dante was as lovable as she remembered, but there were lots of things to consider right now.

  She stepped away. “Who knows why people do horrible things? What about the criminals he was allegedly involved with? Anyone brought them in for questioning?”

  I bit my tongue. Terrance Horton was the only criminal in play that I was aware of, and he couldn’t be found, hence the whole fugitive thing. Plus, I’d promised not to discuss him with Grandma. Not that she would’ve listened.

  Dante wasn’t the man she thought he was. He had to have been in deep to stay on as an informant with the marshals. It was possible Terrance Horton had gotten wind that Dante was going to narc and followed him to Horseshoe Falls, but the idea fell apart when I remembered the bizarre, overly complicated execution. “I don’t know. The whole thing feels more like a crime of convenience. Doesn’t it? Or some kind of fluke. He practically ran straight into the lake.”

  Grandma stacked jars of our new product onto a cedar display. “I’m not sure how convenient a dagger is. Do people even have those anymore?”

  “Someone did.” I twisted a jar on the display to bring the label forward. “How are these selling?”

  She accepted my subject change with a tight smile. “Like a fountain of youth. I can barely keep the Pampered Womb products stocked. Who knew your sister was a genius.”

  “I’ve always known she was something.” Bree had examined her body head to toe from the beginning of this pregnancy, terrified of stretch marks. She never mentioned the possibility during her first pregnancy, which suggests she learned something last time around. I certainly wasn’t asking. It was strange enough to see my body double expand in every direction since Christmas. I didn’t want to know what stretch marks could do to it.

  Our new Pampered Womb product line evolved from her fear of imperfection. The products started as a conversation. Then Grandma got involved and worked up some recipes. Bree used them and gave feedback until the formulas were perfect. I contacted a company who took it from there. Now Guinevere’s Golden Beauty had mommy-centered products, from stretch mark reducers to nipple creams. I was proud of Bree for turning fear into action and secretly prayed she’d never tell me why she needed nipple cream.

  Jake’s handsome face broke through the crowd.

  I smiled immediately, all other thoughts forgotten.

  He made long, confident strides in our direction, wearing his casual cowboy apparel. Tight jeans, worn leather boots and his favorite barn coat that was soft from wear and scented by fresh air, earth and campfires.

  Grandma slid her gaze to Marvin, who was cheerfully making our product samples appear behind shoppers’ ears. “Have you had time to look into the other thing I asked you about?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  “I’ll let you visit with your beau.”

  Jake’s grouchy face lost its edge when he finally arrived at our booth. “Hello, Mary. Mia.”

  “Hi,” we answered in unison.

  “How you doing, Marvin?”

/>   “Never better,” Marvin said.

  Jake leaned a hip against the booth. “You look nice.”

  I performed a deep curtsy, embracing my inner queen. “Thank you, good sir.”

  He gave me a lazy half smile. “Have you heard they found the murder weapon?”

  I made a surprise face.

  “It looks like a mid-sized dagger. They sent it to the lab for testing. The investigation is moving along nicely. We hope to have answers soon.”

  “That’s good news, right?” I waved at gawking passersby and struck a pose for a woman across the path with a camera aimed at me.

  Jake marveled. “Doesn’t that get annoying?”

  “What?”

  “Being stared at all the time?”

  I hadn’t thought of it like that. Outside the Faire, I wouldn’t survive being the center of attention. This place was different. I wasn’t me. I was Guinevere, beloved Queen of Camelot.

  “You don’t even like people.”

  “Hey.” I bristled. “Yes, I do. I don’t always know what they mean or what to say to them, but I do like them.” Especially from afar, and particularly the ones who weren’t trying to hurt me.

  A toddler dressed as a knight ran ahead of his parents and bowed to me. I returned a small curtsy and he changed his mouth into a perfect O of childish surprise.

  “You’re really good at this,” Jake said.

  “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

  “No.” He tilted his handsome head. “It’s more than that. You love what you do and it shows. I knew it the first time I met you.”

  I laughed. “Oh, do you mean when you thought I was a cybercriminal and murderess? I loved those jobs.”

  “Yeah. That worried me.”

  I laughed again, this time unintentionally. Why did that happen? Were we flirting? Taking compliments made my skin prickle. Tiny spotlights trained on me, and like true spotlights, they were hot on my skin, quickly turning it pink. “I thought you were mean when we first met.”

  “That’s my thinking face.”

  “Uh-huh. You must have a busy thought life.”

  His frown deepened and I laughed again.

  Grandma and Marvin turned to look at us.

  Heat crept over my cheeks and up my throat. Bree’s words came back to me in a blast of older-sister sage. Jake and I were too busy for whatever was between us, but I was far too dogged to let it go. I liked him. He had brains and brawn. A rare combination. “Do you want to grab something at the Twisted Mister?” Twisted Mister made their pretzel dough fresh every morning and added something to the mix that tasted like magic. The menu boasted a dozen types of dips from various melted cheeses and sauce to icing and chocolate. My mouth watered despite the lame lunch I’d just eaten.

  “Can’t. I’m on my way to Parma following a lead on Terrance. The Faire wasn’t too far off-route, so I thought I’d catch you while I could.”

  I did a quick calculation. “Where were you coming from? The Faire had to have taken you off-route by at least half an hour.”

  He shifted his gaze to the ground and back with a youthful smile. “So?”

  I tugged at the neckline of my gown. If I continued having heat flashes like this I’d need early menopausal medication.

  Silence swelled between us. How could two people make a go of it these days? Humans were busier than ever. We didn’t have time for complicated arrangements. Everything in my analytical mind said to drop this quest and put the wasted time to more fruitful use. “Are you busy tomorrow? You could come to family dinner at my folks’ house. Listen to Bree talk about her pregnancy and badger me over baby shower details for two hours.” I had a hard time listening to my analytical mind where Jake was concerned.

  “That sounds good.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can I pick you up?”

  “Yeah.”

  He patted the counter. “I’d better get to Parma.” He leaned forward by an inch, as if he might kiss my cheek, but straightened instead. His arms lifted and dropped as he apparently changed his mind about a hug, too. His brows knitted tighter together.

  I extended a hand. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” He accepted the offering, pumped once and strode away.

  Marvin and Grandma spun their faces away the moment I caught them watching again.

  “Well, at least we had an audience,” I muttered.

  “We saw nothing.” Grandma explained herself to the air without a glance in my direction.

  The Faire grew steadily more crowded as the sun made its circuit left to right over the orchard. By dinnertime, we’d sold out of Bree’s creams. Grandma made a note to bring a bigger box of those tomorrow.

  Busy as I was playing Queen Guinevere, I couldn’t get the muddy dagger from my mind. Death by dagger didn’t seem like anything from this century, so why? Was it a crime of passion and convenience? Something spur of the moment? Did it have a deep meaning I didn’t yet understand? If so, what could it mean and who on earth had a dagger at the ready? A candlestick, maybe. A leaded glass vase or fireplace poker, those were things people had on hand. Not daggers.

  Maybe the killer was one of those weird death-obsessed people on the edge of climbing a clock tower, and Dante unwittingly pushed him over. The worst part of that theory was the unhinged person could be a resident of Horseshoe Falls. I hadn’t thought to ask Dan or Jake how long Dante bled on the seat before running through our community. The seat was torn, so he must’ve been seated when stabbed. Did the killer flag him down along the street where his car was found and stab him, or was he already injured when he called Grandma to tell her he was coming? And, if not, why had he called Grandma on his way out of town? Did he need money? Didn’t he have other rich friends?

  I grabbed a stack of company flyers and slipped away from the booth. “I’m going for a walk, Grandma.” I scanned the crowd for unseen dangers. Lurking killers or maniacal, dagger-wielding lunatics.

  She waved from her perch on a chair, surrounded by fairgoers. She stood tall on the seat, balanced by Marvin’s steady hand, and touted the benefits of her products the way I imagined it had been done in the Renaissance. Loud and with pizazz.

  My mind on the biggest clue, the dagger, I went to the local arms expert. Adele, the blacksmith’s daughter.

  The blacksmith shop was a handcrafted weapons depot situated beside the stables. The walls bowed under the weight of shields and chain mail, battle-axes and good-luck horseshoes. Faint scents of hay, oil and manure peppered the air. A steady clang pointed me in Adele’s direction.

  She swung a hammer against glowing red metal, pounding it into submission on the giant stone where she worked. Long raven hair hung over one shoulder to her waist. She smiled when she saw me. “Queen Guinevere.”

  “Good day.” I moseyed closer, keeping an eye on nearby shoppers. “I have a question about daggers.”

  She tented her brows and wrapped strong hands over full hips, discarding her work. “Are ye in need of protection, milady? Point me in the scoundrel’s direction and I’ll make him sing like a schoolgirl.” She made a gripping motion with one hand.

  “No.” I inched around the giant stone in the small space, closer to her, farther from nosy shoppers. “A dagger was used in a murder near my home last night.”

  “Mary!” She pressed a palm to her heaving chest and gasped. “Are ye a harbinger of death or are ye simply cursed?”

  Well, I should’ve expected that. Adele and I had met under similar circumstances. “I am neither, fair maiden, I assure you. I’m only curious where I might find a dagger such as this.” I slid Grandma’s flip phone from my gown pocket. Luckily she wasn’t attached enough to the device to notice I’d kept it. I brought the picture up and turned it to face Adele.

  She pulled the phon
e close to her face. “Are you certain this is a dagger and not a stick run over with mud?”

  “Yes.” I dropped my botched Elizabethan. “That’s a dagger pulled from a lake where a man drowned after being stabbed. I don’t know why it was left there when we know it was used at another location. Maybe to hide it. Maybe in haste. If I know where the killer found it, maybe I can get a bead on who to question next, or develop a profile for the killer.”

  I stopped short to reevaluate myself. I didn’t sound like a woman not getting involved. Then again, I hadn’t done anything hugely out of my way. Adele was a friend and Angelina worked across the street from where I had lunch.

  Adele pushed the phone away. “It’s a terrible photo. I can’t see the detail. It could be mass-manufactured rubbish or a true collector’s piece. In case of the latter, try antique stores, collectors and eBay. If it’s the former, try Walmart.”

  I let a Cheshire smile slide over my face. Regency Antiques topped Angelina’s list of clients who allegedly hated Dante. Perhaps the angry ex had been useful after all.

  Chapter Seven

  I slipped away from the Faire an hour before closing. My parents had shown up after dinner wearing shades of the same lipstick. I assumed the transfer was made behind the privies after a few rounds of rum punch. They’d joined Marvin, taking cash and filling bags while Grandma rallied the shoppers. I’d blown a stream of air kisses and headed for the gate.

  I hefted layers of heavy material in both fists as I hurried across the field outside the Enchanted Forest. I trampled the hem of my gown, despite my best efforts, and sank further into soft spring ground with every step through the grass to my car.