Murder A'la Mode. G. A. McKevett

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ don’t dare.” Savannah sighed. “If I get my hopes up and then I get voted off the first night, I’ll have to kill myself.”

      They passed through a thickly wooded area and when they emerged they got their first glimpse of the castle. From the actual moat with a drawbridge to the battlements and corner round towers with fluttering pennant flags, Blackmoor was the quintessential medieval fortress—at least, at first glance.

      “Is that a real moat and drawbridge?” Tammy said as they drove onto the narrow bridge that crossed the ribbon of water circling the structure.

      “Looks pretty wet to me,” Savannah said peering out the window at the sparkling water below. “But I think I see some goldfish swimming around in there. Are moats supposed to be stocked with goldfish?”

      “A crocodile or two would be more effective, protection-wise.”

      “Maybe they’re gold piranhas.”

      Tammy leaned forward, squinting through the dusty windshield and studying the massive iron gate that hung high above them. Its lower edge sprouted a row of sharp spikes. “That reminds me of the reverse spikes in a parking lot entrance, only more lethal.”

      “Yeah, if that sucker dropped on you a time or two it’d sure cure you of illegal parking.”

      Once through the arched entrance, they found themselves in a cobblestone courtyard. Several buildings filled the enclosure created by the protective stone walls that encircled the complex. Most of the structures had steep, granite-tiled roofs and plastered walls with Tudor beam crosshatching. But in the center of the courtyard, the largest of the buildings was shaped more like a traditional castle, with stone walls and arched windows. The top of the edifice was flat and rimmed with a row of giant gargoyles perched on the edge, glaring down on those in the courtyard below.

      In front of the structure stood an elegant black carriage. Two huge, white draft horses were hitched to the front in harnesses of crimson leather with shiny silver buckles.

      A tall and gorgeous male, wearing a royal blue tunic, black leggings, and knee-high boots stood at the head of one of the horses, stroking its ears and speaking to it soothingly.

      Savannah rolled down her window as Tammy pulled the VW alongside the carriage. “Hey, Sir Ryan…lookin’ good in those leggings.”

      Leaning across her, Tammy said, “Hi, Ryan. Where should I park?”

      He pointed to a barnlike structure behind the main building. “Over there, in yon garage…I mean…stable.”

      “Thanks.” Tammy gave him a thorough once over. “Savannah’s right; you look awesome in tights. You should wear them more often.”

      “Like to Home Depot?” he asked. “Hooters, maybe?”

      Savannah laughed. “Yeah, you spend a lot of time there.”

      “Hey, I’m on a first-name basis with the paint department and the plumbing section at my Home Depot.” He waved them on. “Go park. They don’t want automobiles in front of the keep.”

      “The keep?” Savannah asked.

      “That’s the main building of a castle,” Tammy announced proudly. “The heart of the compound, the most secure area where precious things were kept. Hence the term ‘keep.’ I’ve read up on all that stuff.”

      “I knew that.” Savannah turned back to Ryan. “But we can’t park here, huh?”

      Ryan shook his head. “Nope. Ruins the ambiance, if you know what I mean.”

      “I guess there’s nothing like a hot pink VW bug to jerk you right out of the seventeenth century,” Savannah said as they pulled away and headed toward the “stable.”

      “Seventeenth? If it’s the Middle Ages, I think we’re talking a lot earlier than that.”

      “Seventeenth, tenth, eleventh…whatever.” She shrugged. “I never was any good with dates.”

      Tammy found one of the garage’s six parking spots empty, and she quickly pulled into it. When they got out and looked around, she said, “I don’t think the architect who designed this place was too good with his dates either. You’ve got fifteenth-century Tudor over there, along with the more Norman lines of those battlements, which are from…say…the turn of the millennium. And those steep, granite roofs with the round turrets and decorative ironwork are reminiscent of a French chateau.”

      Savannah stuck out her tongue. “Show-off.”

      Tammy laughed. “You want your suitcases now?”

      “We’d better leave them in the car for the moment, just in case I flunk the audition. It cramps your style if you have to lug luggage when you’re stomping away in a huff.”

      “Good thinking.”

      As they approached the keep, Tammy pointed to a door toward the rear of the building. “Do you suppose we should use one of the back doors…you know…a servant’s entrance?”

      “Shoot, no. I’m going straight to the front door. No time like the present to start acting like the lady of the manor.”

      Tammy shook her head. “You know, Savannah, if you could just come out of your shell….”

      “Hey, people only treat you as good as you treat yourself, Tammy darlin’. And you and I just aren’t service-door kind of girls.”

      The front door was an impressive, eight-foot-tall, arched affair with hammered iron hinges and a pewter door knocker shaped like a snarling lion’s head. Savannah grabbed the ring that dangled from his bared teeth and gave it a hard rap. The sound echoed across the cobblestones, and from the far end of the courtyard Ryan waved to them from his seat on the carriage and gave them a thumbs-up.

      They waited for what seemed like a long time before the door swung open with a deliciously creepy creak. But the woman greeting them was anything but spooky. A young thing, probably less than thirty, wearing a baggy blue dress that reminded Savannah of one of Granny Reid’s old flour sacks, she peered at Savannah and Tammy through thick-lensed glasses. She blinked her nearly lashless eyes as though trying to focus. “Yes?” she said, a suspicious tone in her voice.

      “This is my friend, Tammy Hart, and my name is Savannah Reid.” Savannah extended her hand. “I’m here for an audition.”

      “Audition?” The woman’s pale face was a blank.

      “Yes, for the television show.”

      Recognition dawned in her eyes, and she blinked twice. “Oh, right. You’re the replacement for the one who dropped out.”

      “Ah, yes, I think so.”

      Suddenly more interested, the woman gave Savannah a thorough once-over from head to toe, taking in her navy blue suit and simple white blouse. The suit wasn’t expensive, but the cut was smart, emphasizing her hourglass figure. Her shoes and purse weren’t designer either, but they were high-grade leather and stylish. And Savannah had actually taken half an hour to apply her make-up, rather than her usual slap-dash of lipstick.

      Apparently, СКАЧАТЬ