“Prithee, fair maid, where goest thou?” asked King Henry the Eighth, resplendent in blue velvet robes. As impressive as they were, the gun in his hand commanded more attention.
Act dumb. Pretend you didn’t figure it out. Stalling for time, I took off my heavy lion head and shook out its mane.
“Oh, hi, Willis,” I said, as casually as possible. “I see they roped you into the Great Escape, too. They even gave you a fake gun!”
My ploy didn’t work.
“Why couldn’t you leave it alone, Teddy? Now I have to kill you, too, and that was never what I wanted.” The cultured veneer of the drama teacher had vanished, and now he sounded like who he really was—Anthony James Moss, a remorseless ex-con who had murdered three people, including his cousin, the real Willis Pierce.
“Kill me? What the heck are you talking about?”
“Nice try, Teddy, but that fool Elvin Dade told me all about your crazy phone call this morning while he was writing me a ticket for parking in a fire zone at City Hall.”
“Elvin told you about my phone call?”
When the man I’d known as Willis Pierce laughed, his gold-and-blue cloak rippled merrily. “How dumb can a man get, right? I was just in City Hall for a mere second, paying yet another ticket—I really am going to have to do something about my parking practices—so I didn’t think anyone would make a fuss. But the next thing you know I was surrounded by cops, led by our chatty Elvin. He couldn’t wait to tell me how stupid you are. What did you do to make the man hate you so much?”
“It’s Caro he hates, not me. When they were teenagers…” Oh, what did it matter now? I gave up all pretense. “You’re Taxi.”
“Guilty as charged, dear lady.” Returning to his former Henry the Eighth persona, he rendered an elegant bow.
Vying for time, I said, “The other Faire actors will notice you’re missing, and when I’m found dead, they’ll point to you!”
“Au contraire. Not long after the TV cameras spent a few minutes sharing our dance with all of San Sebastian County, Aster Edwina ordered our bells and motley crew to depart forthwith, and so we did. I bade farewell to the others in the parking lot. Once they’d driven off, I made haste to return to your little Eden. But so much for that. You know what galls me about this entire thing? I actually saved Victor’s life by orchestrating the little snitch’s escape from prison. How did he repay me for favors rendered? The villain blackmailed me. No honor among thieves, apparently.”
Or killers.
I wondered how long I had. In a few minutes the tour of the animal cafeteria would be over, allowing the Great Escape to resume. Zookeepers, park rangers, and the media would assemble near Monkey Mania, waiting for my reappearance. If I could just keep him talking his attention might wander and I’d be able to…Well, I didn’t know exactly what yet, but I’d come up with something.
Playing to his vanity, I feigned admiration. “I really underestimated you, didn’t I? I should have known better. After all, a man who could come out of prison and assume a Ph.D.’s identity has to be incredibly bright. And talented.”
He actually preened. “People always said my cousin and I looked enough alike to be twins. When Cousin Willis returned from Johannesburg, he accepted the job offer from San Sebastian Community College, but before picking up stakes and moving again he wanted to have a weekend ramble down the Appalachian Trail. Erroneously believing that blood was thicker than water, he asked if I’d like to come along.”
“That’s where you killed him, then. On the trail.”
His gentle smile seemed wildly out place in the circumstances. “Correct again, Teddy. With this very gun. Since he’d only flown out here one time for his interview, taking his place at the college was easy, especially since I knew as much about theater as he did. More, actually. My dear cousin was no big loss to Broadway, you understand, and he was only a run-of-the-mill scholar. As the Bard said, ‘Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.’ Macbeth, Act I, Scene IV. By then most of our relatives were dead, so there was no one to raise the alarm when the boy dropped off the face of the earth.”
In the distance, a howler monkey began his nightly serenade, and another howled in answer—an off-key symphony that usually made me smile. I didn’t feel like smiling now, but I made the effort.
“Impressive, Willis. Or should I say Tony? All you had to do was drop a few pounds and grow a beard like his. Maybe you can tell me how you…?”
“Trying to extend your life by keeping me busy bragging about my misdeeds?”
Considering how terrified I was, the calm in my voice amazed me. “That, too, but I really am interested. I still can’t figure out why you let Victor blackmail you since he had more to lose than you did. I don’t understand why you had to kill Bambi, either.” A big lie there, since I already knew, but I had to keep him talking.
Once again his vanity overcame his determination to kill me. “Given Victor’s murder conviction, he had more to hide than me, so you’re right there. I pointed this out when he first hit me up for the money and said I should be the blackmailer, not the victim. Know what? He had the gall to laugh! He told me the marriage business was in the toilet and that he was too old to start another scam, but he couldn’t exactly apply for Social Security, could he? Not living under an assumed name, he couldn’t. Did you know that for a tiny fraction of a minute I actually felt sorry for him?”
“If you felt so sorry for Victor, why kill him? And why with a crossbow, since you obviously own a gun?”
“Answer part A, because of the money, of course. I don’t like being blackmailed, especially now, when the balloon payment on the Caliban was due. Answer part B, because the crossbow was quieter, and would give me more time to get back to the harbor, leaving a Faire full of suspects to be questioned by that stupid Elvin Dade. My plan would have worked, too, if Alejandro hadn’t shrieked his head off. As a lifetime animal lover, I do feel bad about scaring the llama, but it couldn’t be helped.” He looked at his handgun. Stroked it.
I had to interrupt that perilous chain of thought. “Okay, Tony. I understand. You love your life in Gunn Landing. Heck, who wouldn’t? So you played along with Victor for a while and made the payments. Then the economy went to hell. I happen to know that SSCC salaries aren’t that great, and what with harbor’s slip fees going up and the Caliban’s payment due, your budget was stretched to the breaking point. And so were you. Am I right?”
“You should have been a psychologist, Teddy.”
“Then came the Renaissance Faire and its lavish display of Medieval weaponry. You seized the day.”
“No moss on this stone. When I saw that tart Melissa sucking face with Yancy Hass behind the armory stall, I snatched up the crossbow and a couple of darts and hurried away. Later, I took Victor aside and told him I’d hand over my usual payment near Llama Rides at two a.m., and…Well, you know how that turned out, don’t you? I donned the leper’s costume I’d also had the foresight to swipe, just in case I was seen, and did the dirty deed.”
He sighed. “Alas, dear Teddy, you’re such a fine conversationalist, I hate the thought of putting an end to all that wit, but your time runneth out. I need to get over to the college for the final rehearsal of Much Ado About Nothing before anyone notices I’m late.” Heaving a theatrical sigh, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve always liked you, so I’ll make it quick.”
He raised the gun.
Before I could dodge out of the way, the thick brush to the left of me rustled and the Faire’s Green Man stepped out. His leafy costume perfectly matched the surrounding foliage.
“Surprise! You should have known I wouldn’t miss the Great Escape, Teddy!”
It was Dad. And he didn’t see the gun in Tony Moss’ hand.
The shocking interruption took Moss’ attention off me for a half-second, but that was all I needed.
I threw the lion’s head.
The heavy mask knocked Moss’ gun hand aside enough that the bullet plowed into a nearby tree. Unfortunately, he hung onto his weapon.
“Run!” I screamed at my father over the loud gunshot.
Dad had always been quick on the uptake and he didn’t disappoint me now. Before Moss could swing the gun around for another shot, Dad and I plunged into the heavy undergrowth. With me in the lead, we ran, not back down toward the wide visitor’s lane, but deeper into the foliage where the bushes slapped at us as we headed toward Monkey Mania. If we could make it there, we’d be close enough that our screams for help might be heard by the park rangers. But for now we had to save our breath and just run.
“You can’t get away, Teddy!” Moss yelled behind us. “You’ve been running too long and I’m fresh. Whoever that is with you, he’s no spring chicken. Stop now and I’ll make this quick, just like I promised. If you don’t, when I catch you, you’ll get it in the gut and he’ll get it in a much worse place.”
“Did that Henry the Eighth guy kill…?” Dad puffed.
“Yes. Shut up and run.”
Moss was right about one thing. Despite my adrenalin rush, my physical exhaustion became more and more evident as we plunged through the heavy undergrowth. Dad’s age—he was in his sixties—and sedentary lifestyle were handicaps, too. With growing despair I realized we might not make it all the way to Monkey Mania and help.
But I wasn’t going to let Tony kill us without a fight.
Desperate, I grabbed Dad’s hand and wheeled us into a nasty growth of black hawthorn bushes. Their sharp thorns slashed our faces and ripped much of the cloth leaves off Dad’s Green Man costume, but I didn’t care. If we could reach the equipment shed at Friendly Farms where I’d stashed the pitchfork after mucking out the barnyard, we’d have a chance.
From the noise behind us in the undergrowth, Moss was catching up. His bulky Henry the Eighth costume didn’t seem to bother him at all, although it would look like hell afterwards. When he turned up at the Renaissance Faire tomorrow in ragged robes, someone—maybe even the dense Elvin Dade—might figure it out. Then again, Moss had a creative mind and he’d probably think of something. When Joe got back, though…
Don’t think about Joe.
Think about that pitchfork.
“Teddy, let go of…of my hand.” Dad’s breathing had grown more and more ragged as we plunged through the hawthorn thicket. “We can’t out…outrun him…together. We need to…to separate…Let me…stop and I’ll…I’ll distract…him while…you go ahead.”
When I glanced at him I saw bloody scratches marring his dear, patrician face. Clenching his hand even harder, I snapped, “You’re not sacrificing yourself for me!”
“But he’ll…he’ll kill us…both. Better me…than you. I’ve had…a long life. You…you haven’t.”
“He’s not going to kill either of us,” I lied. “I have a plan.”
It wasn’t much of one—pitchfork against gun never is—but it was better than sacrificing my father. As the crashing noises behind us drew nearer so did our possible salvation. I had begun to see flashes of clearing through the dense undergrowth. The barnyard lay only a few yards ahead, and at the other end of it, the shed. I was trying to figure out how many seconds it would take to open the latch when I dragged my protesting father across the paved lane that led past Friendly Farm and saw…
Alejandro.
Standing in the middle of the barnyard, where I’d left him earlier.
A better plan formed in my mind. I helped my winded father under the fence and then pushed him down behind the big water trough.
“Sit perfectly still,” I whispered. “Once Moss goes for me, I want you to crawl to the other side so he can’t see you.”
Dad was too exhausted to argue.
His momentary safety thus accomplished, I fell to my hands and knees, and with waif-like cries, crawled toward the llama.
As Tony Moss emerged from the brush and vaulted the fence, I could see that evil little gun pointed at me. If this didn’t work, Dad and I were both dead.
Then I heard a familiar, blessed sound.
Alejandro.
Screaming in rage.
Wheeck! Wheeck! Wheeck!
Believing rightly that his little human friend was in danger, Alejandro galloped forward and hit Moss with his shoulder just as the man fired. A clod of dirt kicked up near my heel as I rolled away.
Wheeck! Wheeck! Wheeck!
Alejandro rushed Moss again, this time knocking him fully to the ground. Then, as Moss lay sprawled on his back, Alejandro began to stomp him with those big, clawed feet. If I had been a better person I would have stopped the attack once the blood started to flow, but I just stood there and watched.
And God help me, I enjoyed it.
***
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on your point of view—help arrived before Willis Pierce, a.k.a. Anthony James Moss, bit the big one. My talkative delay had worked, and everyone had made it out of the animal cafeteria and started toward Monkey Mania. The sound of Moss’ last shot had carried over the hill, alerting my waiting pursuers that someone was hunting the escaped lion for real. They all came running, park rangers, zookeepers, the media with their cameras, taking pictures and shooting video as they ran.
Someone else ran, too.
Dad.
As soon as he saw help was on its way, he blew me a kiss and skedaddled back into the undergrowth.
Moss was a mess. His royal finery was ripped, his lip was split, and his nose appeared broken. But I’ll give the man this; while the hastily summoned EMTs loaded him onto a stretcher, he maintained his sense of the theatrical.
Before he was carted away, he waved a bloodied hand at the cameras and said, “This is what happens when you quote from the Scottish play.”