Ghastly Glass Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Ye Village Crier

  Praise for WICKED WEAVES

  “Fast-paced, clever, delightful.”

  —John J. Lamb, author of The Treacherous Teddy

  “[A] new exciting . . . series . . . Part of the fun of this solid whodunit is the vivid description of the Renaissance Village; anyone who has not been to one will want to go . . . Cleverly developed.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Joyce and Jim Lavene have teamed up for yet another terrific mystery series . . . A feast for the reader . . . Character development in this new series is energetic and eloquent; Jessie is charming and intelligent, with . . . saucy strength.”

  —MyShelf.com

  “A promising new series set at a Renaissance Faire . . . Interesting juxtaposition between the present and the past and the real and the fantastic . . . Entertaining and vivacious characters.”

  —Romantic Times

  “I cannot imagine a cozier setting than Renaissance Faire Village, a closed community of rather eccentric—and very interesting—characters, [with] lots of potential . . . A great start to a new series by a veteran duo of mystery authors.”

  —Cozy Library

  Praise for the Peggy Lee Garden Mysteries

  POISONED PETALS

  “A delightful botany mystery.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A top-notch, over-the-fence mystery read with beloved characters, a fast-paced story line, and a wallop of an ending.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Enjoy this pleasurable read!”

  —Mystery Morgue

  FRUIT OF THE POISONED TREE

  “I cannot recommend this work highly enough. It has everything: mystery, wonderful characters, sinister plot, humor, and even romance.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Well-crafted with a satisfying end that will leave readers wanting more!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  PRETTY POISON

  “With a touch of romance added to this delightful mystery, one can only hope many more Peggy Lee Mysteries will be hitting shelves soon!”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  “A fantastic amateur-sleuth mystery.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “For anyone with even a modicum of interest in gardening, this book is a lot of fun.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “The perfect book if you’re looking for a great suspense.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “Joyce and Jim Lavene have crafted an outstanding whodunit in Pretty Poison, with plenty of twists and turns that will keep the reader entranced to the final page.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Complete with gardening tips, this is a smartly penned, charming cozy, the first book in a new series. The mystery is intricate and well-plotted. Green thumbs and nongardeners alike will enjoy this book.”

  —Romantic Times

  PERFECT POISON

  “A fabulous whodunit that will keep readers guessing and happily turning pages to the unexpected end. Peggy Lee is a most entertaining sleuth and her Southern gentility is like a breath of fresh air . . . A keeper!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “A fascinating whodunit with unusual but plausible twists and plenty of red herrings.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “The book [has] so much . . . going for it . . . A feisty widow who exudes confidence . . . The plotting and pacing are cozy-perfect.”

  —Cozy Library

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Joyce and Jim Lavene

  Renaissance Faire Mysteries

  WICKED WEAVES

  GHASTLY GLASS

  Peggy Lee Garden Mysteries

  PRETTY POISON

  FRUIT OF THE POISONED TREE

  POISONED PETALS

  PERFECT POISON

  A CORPSE FOR YEW

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc. 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for authors or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  GHASTLY GLASS

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the authors

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / September 2009

  Copyright © 2009 by Joyce Lavene and Jim Lavene.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-13999-8

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the authors nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Dedicated to our sister-in-law and friend, Marcia Koch: We know you would have loved Jessie and Chase! We miss you!

  J & J

  One

  “Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Death stalks the streets of Renaissance Faire Village. Run for your lives.”

  “Would it hurt him to add som
e inflection?” A fairy, waiting in the costume line ahead of me, rolled her eyes and watched the Village crier go by on the cobblestone street.

  “I’ll add some inflection, dearie,” the little man in the dwarf costume responded as he walked by, “when you take some acting lessons.”

  Standing between them was making me nervous. The Black Dwarf, alias Marcus Fleck, was holding a long pole with a swinging lantern on one end. It was pointed at me instead of the fairy.

  “Acting lessons?” the fairy shot back, her translucent wings quivering. “I’ve been in dinner theaters across the south.”

  He snorted. “So has roast beef. What’s your point? ”

  The fairy (I’m not sure if I know her. Fairies all look the same to me) made a noise somewhere between a screech and a howl. “I’ll show you my point, little man,” she threatened the dwarf, long red fingernails poised in his direction.

  I was still standing between them. “Could you take this somewhere else?” I was hoping for a quick resolution to the problem since it looked like rain and I was still a good twenty minutes from the inside of the Village costume shop.

  This was the first year ever that Renaissance Faire Village and Market Place in Myrtle Beach was decking itself out for Halloween. I’d wrangled and made promises to everyone but the devil to be here for the eight full weeks of the Halloween season and to continue my research on Renaissance crafts. Of course, I could continue my research next summer, and I probably still could, but I really wanted to be here for Halloween. I’d heard tales of all the fantastic stuff the Village theme makers had lined up for the season. I couldn’t wait!

  “Jessie!” A former student of mine at the University of South Carolina at Columbia hailed me. Debby had dropped out during the last semester to work the Renaissance Village full-time. Some people came to the Village and couldn’t go home again. “I was wondering when you were going to get here. We’re roomies!”

  She hugged me and I absently patted her shoulder. I looked around at the crowds of actors and students ready to trade in their traditional Renaissance Village garb of knaves, varlets, wenches, and ladies for their special Halloween costumes.

  I’d hoped to see Chase here. Actually, I’d hoped he’d be waiting at the gate with breathless anticipation of my arrival. Chase Manhattan was the Village bailiff but also my main man since July. I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. My promises and commitments to be here for the next two months had really dragged me down for a while. But I was firm in my belief that he was probably, hopefully, still my man. You never know for sure. A few weeks can be a lifetime.

  I was hoping not to need a roomie or Village housing because I’d be staying with Chase. But maybe not. I wouldn’t know for sure until I saw him, hopefully not wrapped around some smug little fairy or one of the story-book characters that inhabited Renaissance Village.

  “I’m glad to see you, too.” I smiled at Debby. The line for costumes had moved closer to the shop, and the Black Dwarf had moved on with his cheery message.

  But in fact, the Village crier was right about Death stalking the Village. I was looking right at him. Complete with black robe and huge scythe, he was Death incarnate. He was tall, too. Or on stilts.

  Debby laughed at me when she saw I couldn’t take my eyes from the character. “You just got here, right? Let me introduce Ross, or as we like to call him, Mr. Big.” She turned to the spectacularly frightening figure of death. “Ross DeMilo, meet my good friend, Jessie Morton, of late apprenticed to Mary Shift at Wicked Weaves. Jessie, this is Ross. And he’s gonna get you if you don’t watch out.”

  Ross pulled back his black hood, frowning at me. His brown hair was greased back from his narrow, skull-shaped face. He wasn’t on stilts. He was just tall and thin, his ribs showing beneath his black Renaissance Village T-shirt.

  “Welcome to Renaissance Village, a horrible place to live but a worse place to die. I am Death, the original dark stalker. My scythe will separate your body from your soul.”

  As terrifying speeches went, it was pretty good. He had a deep John Carradine voice that added a certain monster charm that worked even in the bright September sunshine. I didn’t want to think what it would do after dark.

  “Hi. That’s a great costume.” I smiled at him, then he moved away, mingling with the crowd. I turned to Debby, who was in a red wench’s costume. “Where’s your scary outfit? I thought everyone was dressing up.”

  “Today is the last day to trade in your non-Halloween costume for the scary one.” She shrugged. “I figure why do anything right away when you can wait until the last minute. There are plenty of people who say they aren’t dressing up for Halloween. Robin Hood and the Merry Men aren’t into it, and neither are some of the Craft Guild. They want the dancing girls at the Caravan Stage to dress up like witches. Kind of corny, huh? ”

  I should mention that a lot of people at Renaissance Village take their roles very seriously. They live and work here all year and sometimes get a little weird. Robin and his Merry Men tend to be that way more than most since they hang out in Sherwood Forest dispatching brigands and stealing toaster ovens from the rich to give to the poor.

  “How do the people from Adventure Land feel about people not dressing up?” I looked around at the milling crowd of residents and visitors. Adventure Land is the owner of the Village and supposedly dictates the rules and regulations. “Has Robin told Livy and Harry about this? ”

  “You are behind the times, I fear, good lady. Queen Olivia and King Harold are on the royal outs. Neither one is taking visitors or problems. It looks as though they’re leaving that to our good bailiff, Chase Manhattan. Methinks you know of him. Tall fellow who has shoulders like a Viking and tends to be good at most sporting events? ”

  Yeah. I know him. I glanced around at the crowd forming outside the costume keeper’s shop, hoping to see his handsome, smiling face. No such luck.

  I stood in line behind the fairy talking to Debby about her life at the Village. I was surprised she wasn’t living with Fred the Red Dragon, but she laughed when I mentioned it. “You were so right about not getting involved with any of these guys on a permanent basis, Jessie. I’m over Fred. Now I’m seeing the new blacksmith. His name is Hans Von Rupp. He’s from Latvia or Germany. Somewhere in Europe. He’s big, too.” She giggled. “All over. He can lift me with one arm and—”

  “Sounds like fun.” I cut her off, not wanting to hear so much that my ears started bleeding. Why do people always feel they have to give you more information than you need?

  I wished I could just ask if she’d seen Chase with Little Miss Muffet or one of the underdressed woodland creatures. I couldn’t. I wasn’t willing to sound that needy. I was really sure everything was fine anyway. It had only been a few weeks since we last saw each other. No reason to panic just because I’d been here an hour already and hadn’t seen him.

  The fairy in front of me was at the window where Portia the costume keeper handed out daily apparel to those of us who didn’t own the costumes we wore everyday. “I hope I’m not going to be one of those dead people walking around,” the fairy told Portia. “I didn’t come all the way from Texas to be a zombie.”

  Portia put a gauzy, gray garment in front of her. “All fairies are wraiths for the duration of the Halloween season. Please turn in your wings when you exchange costumes. Wraiths do not fly in the Village.”

  “What? This is big and long,” the fairy complained. “My legs are my best feature. I can’t work like this.”

  “Then go back to Texas,” Portia recommended, sounding tired as always. “Next? ”

  Debby smiled at the unhappy fairy/wraith. “Look at it this way, wraiths don’t have to wash their hair or dye it. You’ll save time and money during the next few weeks.”

  The fairy, about to turn wraith, hissed at Debby, “Stay out of my way or I’ll take you straight to hell.”

  Like I said, an intense group of people. While Debby and the fairy-turned-wraith argued about what the other d
eserved, I stepped up to the window and smiled at Portia. “This is exciting, huh? The first Halloween in Renaissance Village. I’m really looking forward to it.”

  She glanced at me. “Where are you working, Julie? ”

  “Jessie.” I smiled again. It hadn’t been that long. What was wrong with everyone? How could they all just forget me? “I’m apprenticing at the Glass Gryphon until Halloween. What kind of costume do you have cooked up for me? ”

  Portia yawned. Her graying black hair was pulled starkly away from her thin face. “Craft Guild has a choice between ghosts and witches.”

  Ghosts and witches? Neither one sounded appealing. “What does the ghost costume look like? ”

  “If I take it out, it’s yours for the duration. I’m not dragging costumes out for everyone to look over at this point. Ghost or witch? ”

  I tried to imagine which one would be less likely to catch on fire since I’d be working with flame as an apprentice glassblower. I tend to have a little bad luck when it comes to my apprenticeships. I didn’t want to catch on fire, no matter how memorable that might seem to some diehard Ren-Faire visitors.

  “Ghost. I look better in white.”

  Portia lifted a black costume complete with pointed hat. “Sorry. Fresh out. Try again at the beginning of the week. Good to have you back. Enjoy your stay.”

  Was it just me or did everyone seem to have a bad attitude about this venture? Where was the spirit? Where was the excitement?

  “Next.” Portia looked past me at Debby. “All bawdy wenches are the undead.”

  “The undead what?” Debby demanded. “You mean vampires? Or zombies? ”