Fatal Fairies (Renaissance Faire Mystery Book 8) by Joyce Lavene, Jim Lavene Page A

Isabelle,” he said. “I’d invite you to eat with us, but I don’t think it’s going to be a pleasant experience.”
    “That’s okay.” It certainly wouldn’t be a pleasant experience for me, though I hated to give her the time alone with him. “I’ll get lunch somewhere and meet you after.”
    We decided to meet back at the Good Luck Fountain and start from there again. Chase was apologetic that he had to leave me. I assured him that I would be fine.
    I got some free lemonade from one of the vendors and talked another into giving me a free pretzel. I’d come to this strange place without any money. Not even a voucher that employees received for food and drinks.
    Hundreds of fairies, knaves, varlets, and high-born ladies and gentlemen walked around the Village Green as near to the closed off fountain as they possibly could without touching it. They muttered to each other, very few knowing what had happened. I felt sorry for Apple Blossom, even though she was a fairy. I opened the file and stared at the picture of her.
    She was very pretty, dressed in apple green with a crown of tiny green apples and leaves on her brown hair. This wasn’t the picture of her that the police had taken after her death. This was better times, with a friend who was also dressed as a fairy. The second fairy was wearing dark purple and had a blueberry crown on her dirty blond hair.
    It must’ve been a fruit fairy thing.
    When I looked up, the blueberry fairy from the picture was standing very close to the police tape. She was crying—her nose and eyes were red. She was still in her purple fairy garb that appeared to be made of leaves sewn together. It barely reached her thighs.
    I had to put aside my hostility at fairies not having to observe the same Ren Faire protocol as the rest of us. Being angry didn’t serve any of my plans to get back to my Village. But being nice to the crying fairy just might.
    “I’m so sorry.” I towered over her, resisting the urge to slump. “I’m Jessie. I work for the Village. It was a terrible tragedy what happened to your friend.”
    She didn’t question how I knew about Apple Blossom—it was enough that I worked for the Village. My words brought out a full storm of tears that she cried against my blouse.
    By walking slowly to the bench where I’d been sitting, I got her to follow me.
    “My name is Stacie, but my fairy name is Blueberry. You’re so kind to take an interest in what happened to Apple Blossom.” She was trying to pull herself together, pain in her hazel eyes. “I don’t think the police took her death seriously. They barely questioned anyone.”
    “Believe me, the police take it very seriously, and so does the Village Bailiff, Chase Manhattan. I work for him.” The words just came out without much thought behind them.
    “The Bailiff?” Her eyes were enormous in her pale face. “Wow! Apple Blossom had a crush on him. I kind of do too. All that leather . . . and I love his hair!”
    “Yes.” I gritted my teeth. “He has very nice hair.”
    “He could lock me in his Dungeon anytime”
    I ignored her ramblings about him. “The evidence is very compelling that she was murdered.”
    “Murdered?” Her pale brows knit together. “I’ll bet it was that big man who followed us around the Village. He kept stopping and talking to us. He wanted Apple Blossom to go out with him. He’d asked her before today, but today he was really annoying. He was like a hundred years old, but he had a nice costume, and he wasn’t bad looking—except for being old.”
    Maybe now we were getting somewhere. “What exactly did he look like?”
    “I don’t know. He was just old and big.”
    No point in asking if she’d told the police. What would they say to such a vague description?
    “What about his costume?” That was something Detective Almond wasn’t very good at. If it related to anything only found at the Village, he acted as though he couldn’t understand it.
    “Oh.” She