A Share in Death

“One day an evil wizard came to the castle and stole the prince away to his cave. The queen didn’t know what to do.” Kincaid wondered how the queen had so convenientlyrid herself of the king, and wondered at the thoroughly modern Maureen exposing her children to oldfashioned fairy tales. Maybe it was a modern fairy tale, with a liberated queen.

“Hullo,” he said, walking down the hall to join them. “You two are up early.” His own night had been so unsatisfactory that he’d been glad to see the first faint light at the windows, and had waited impatiently, action constrained,

 

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until the house began to stir. “Is this the castle?” Kincaid indicated the landing with his hand.

 

Bethany nodded seriously. “You’re stepping in the moat.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Kincaid stepped back a pace and squatted on his heels. “Better?” A ghost of a smile accompanied the nod this time. “If I were the prince,” he continued, looking at Brian, “I’d think of some really super way to escape from the wizard. Put his dragon to sleep, or steal the wizard’s spells. The queen wouldn’t have to rescue you at all.”

The balance of the children’s expressions changed, Brian’s more cheerful, Bethany’s sliding toward belligerence. Brian wouldn’t keep the upper hand for long. Kincaid spoke to Bethany, a forestalling tactic. “I like your crown, Beth.” The children looked at one another and drew closer together, squabbles forgotten in sudden discomfort.

Kincaid’s attention sharpened. He looked more closely at the white cloth. A handkerchief, slightly frayed at the edges, most likely a man’s since it lacked any lace or embroidery. A small spot of rust marred one corner. Kincaid’s heart jumped. “Where did you get the crown, Beth?” He kept his voice calm.

The children only stood silently, their eyes widening. Kincaid tried again. “Is it your daddy’s?” Negative head shakes greeted this—an improvement over no response at all. “Did you find it somewhere?”

Brian looked at Bethany in mute appeal, and after Kincaid waited another patient moment, she spoke. “We were playing in the front hall. Mummy and Daddy said we could play anywhere in the house except the pool, but we weren’t to go outside.”

“Quite right, too, I should think,” Kincaid prompted, when she paused. “What were you playing?”

Bethany cast a quick glance at her brother and decided he wasn’t going to speak for himself. “Brian was playing with his Matchbox cars. He was driving one on the edge of the umbrella stand and it fell in.”