“Oh, yes,” she said. “I can’t wait.”
“Give me your hand.” I reached up to grasp her hand, aware of the perfectly manicured nails and the two very expensive rings. I really couldn’t see very well with the opaque contacts in, but I didn’t need to. I had no skills at reading palms; I was just going to wing it as I went along. I pinched the area at the base of her thumb. “Ah, a fat and juicy Mount of Venus. You are a girl who loves her pleasures. Beware that you don’t run to fat in your middle years, which aren’t that far away.”
Behind Clarissa, a few twitters arose from her guests. Tulla and Bricey brayed with laughter, and for a split second hatred crossed Clarissa’s features.
“She got you, Clarissa,” Tulla said. “You absolutely look marvelous for your age, but you are getting on up there. Better up the time you spend with your personal trainer.”
Clarissa threw a withering look over her shoulder and tried to snatch her hand away, but I held on.
“Your life line and your head line intersect,” I said in my falsetto cackle. “You’ve managed to blend what you love and what you do.” I was really racking my brain trying to remember anything Madame Tomeeka, Zinnia’s resident psychic and medium, had ever said about reading palms. “And here, that mark on the mount at the base of your forefinger—the Mount of Jupiter—a message is coming for you. An important message. There is news you don’t want to share. The resolution of a puzzle is on the way, and it is not what you anticipated.”
“It had better be coming soon, since you’ve been paid handsomely to find those answers.” She finally freed her hand. “I thought you came to perform. Get on with it. It’s cold standing out here on the porch.”
And with that, Harold whipped out a bugle and blew it—off-key. “The story of Robin Hood begins,” he said, motioning me forward.
I spun around with a cackle. “The Prince of Thieves is a tale oft told about a man who robbed from the rich to give to the poor. Robin”—Coleman bowed—“will do battle with the Sheriff of Nottingham.” Oscar took a bow. “And win the hand of Maid Marian.” Tinkie curtsied. I introduced the rest of the players and set up the story.
Clarissa’s guests were on her front porch, but a crowd had also gathered on the front lawn of Rook’s Nest, and they applauded in anticipation. The lawn was large and filled with beautiful landscaping. A lover’s bench was tucked among some trees, and a fountain tinkled behind some other shrubs. Tulla, Bricey, and Bart and Sunny Crenshaw, among other guests I didn’t know, were leaning on the balustrade around the porch. They held drinks and were in high good spirits.
I continued. “But there is evil afoot in the land of King John. Persecution of the poor is rampant, and Robin will defend those without protection until King Richard is placed upon the throne. I predict a bad ending for the minions of King John, especially the Sheriff of Nottingham, a blackhearted villain. The play begins!” I bowed and slipped away to find a place to hide until it was my turn to burst out of the shrubs. We were all about dramatic entrances.
The highlight of the story was the sword fight between Oscar and Coleman and they’d become pretty good at acting it out, even following the blocking I’d done for them. The finale involved Robin shooting an arrow that strikes the sheriff so that Robin can swoop in and save Maid Marian. We had a rubber-tipped arrow and a child’s toy bow.
The crowd laughed and applauded, and I had to admire the fervor that my friends put into the play. The sword fight went off without a hitch and impressed the audience. We were almost at the finish, and Coleman drew back the bow to let his arrow fly.
Friar Tuck, or Cece, as she was better known, had been off her mark the entire play. She was supposed to hide in the shrubs and come out during the sword battle to act as Robin’s second. Instead, she’d been walking back and forth in front of the porch and at the last minute had run into the thick shrubs at the side of the house. I wondered what bee had gotten up her bonnet. She was supposed to be stage left in preparation for the duet with Jaytee, but she was stage right. I’d round her up when it was time for her song.
Coleman made a big production of drawing back the little plastic bow. When he loosed the rubber-tipped arrow, it stuck Oscar in the shoulder, and he fell back, pretending to be gravely wounded.
The crowd was whooping and clapping as Robin raced across the lawn and swept Marian into his arms. “My maiden is safe!” he cried out.
From somewhere in the landscaped yard, there was the twang of a powerful bowstring, and a real arrow shot across the area and struck the front porch post only inches from Clarissa’s head. The arrowhead dug deep into the wood.
Clarissa screamed, which made Tulla and Bricey scream, too. Pandemonium broke out on the porch as everyone pushed and shoved to try to get in the front door.
Another twang cut through the noise and a second arrow whistled toward the front porch. This one grazed Clarissa’s head, slamming into the front wall of the house.
“I’ve been hit!” Clarissa screamed. She placed a hand on the side of her head, and blood seeped through her fingers. It looked like the arrow had taken part of Clarissa’s ear with it.
The porch audience screamed louder. Individuals dropped to the floor as the spectators on the lawn, realizing this was not part of the play, scattered and ran for their lives.
