Ghastly Glass

ISBN: 978-0-425-23030-5

From Berkley Prime Crime

When we were finally alone (except for the hundreds of visitors, wandering knaves, and a few serfs), I turned to Chase. “Hi there.”

“Hi.” He was staring at me in an un-Chase-like way. Normally he’d be running up, throwing me in the air (not a small task since I’m six feet tall and not at all waif-like). There was no big grin on his handsome face, no big kiss coming my way.

I couldn’t decide which course would be better. You know how sometimes when you defend yourself it makes you seem guiltier than when you keep your mouth shut? I didn’t know which way to go with this. No matter what, it was only a stupid kiss. How upset could he be?

Before I could really ascertain if he was upset or not, a varlet, now dressed all in  black instead of varlet brown, came breathlessly running up. “Bailiff! It’s happened again! Except this time it’s Death.”

Chase frowned. “What are you talking about, Lonnie? Did another visitor collapse?”

“No. It’s Death. Really.”

“You mean another one died?”

“No. Really, Chase. Death died.”

“I think he’s talking about Ross.” I pushed into the conversation before I had to hit either one of them. “You know, the tall guy with the scythe.”

Chase glanced at me like he’d forgotten I was there. “Oh yeah. Where is he?”

“In the Village Square. One minute he was threatening a few visitors and telling them he’d take their souls and the next minute, boom! He was on the cobblestones for the count.”

“Let’s go,” Chase said.

“Me too.” I started running after him. “Have visitors died in the Village? How did I miss that?”

“Too busy, I guess,” Chase returned as we cut through the alleyway between Squire’s Lane and Harriet’s Hat House. “Too busy to watch CNN, or call anyone.”

“CNN was down here covering visitor deaths?” How did I miss that?

“Yep.” Lonnie’s little rat-like face twisted up as we ran across the cobblestones. “That’s why I left Sir Latte’s Beanery. Chase needs all the help he can get.”

“So what killed them? It was probably the heat, right? Lots of visitors wear those heavy clothes and get heat stroke over the summer.” I looked from Chase to Lonnie.

“We don’t know for sure yet,” Chase finally answered.

A large crowd of visitors and residents had gathered near the Good Luck Fountain right in the middle of the Village Square. I stayed with Chase, almost having to push Lonnie out of the way, as we broke through the crowd to take a look at the man on the ground.
Ross’ black robe had fallen open around his bony body but his hood covered his face. The scythe lay beside him, not too far from his reach. There was blood everywhere and something sticking up out of his chest. Everyone was whispering around us as Chase knelt beside the giant’s form.

“Call the police,” Chase said finally. “He’s dead. And I don’t think it’s heat stroke.”
 

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