The Curious Case of the Cursed Dice (Curiosity Shop Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by Constance Barker

  I’d arrived early, heading for the relative comfort of the air-conditioned bar that was attached to the motel as soon as Ronny dropped me off. I didn't stand on ceremony or feel like waiting for him, so I was sipping a vodka martini when he came in and slumped down on the stool next to me.

  "How was your day?" I asked as he wiped his face with a handkerchief.

  He looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar and straightened his bow tie. "Well, I found the lock," he said. “The collector I’d read about still has it. I’ve got his address now.” He didn't seem as excited about it as I would have expected.

  "That's good news, right?"

  "Yes, of course it is."

  "The way you said it tells me there's a problem. What is it?"

  "Getting it." I thought he'd elaborate but he didn't seem to want to share. Then he looked at me. "And how did you do?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  I smiled. "Well, in one way, I think I hit the jackpot, to use the local lingo. Ronny and I went over to the casino where two of the guys won."

  That stopped him. "Ronny? Who is Ronny?"

  "The taxi driver," Edgar said. "He's quite masterful getting that horseless carriage through traffic."

  "He's the one who brought us from the airport."

  "Right. He went with you to find the artifact?" The idea had him worried.

  "He took me to meet a contact. We chatted and it turned out that he kind of figured out that we were interested in the deaths from our earlier conversation in his cab. But he thinks I’m a reporter covering them for one of those out-there magazines, which, by the way, don’t seem as far out there to me as they used to."

  "Fine. And what did you find out?"

  "I think the artifact is a pair of dice."

  "That makes a certain amount of sense." He laughed. “That must mean it’s wrong.”

  I laughed too. "Thing is that I talked with a bartender who was a friend of the last victim. He said that he'd acquired a pair from somewhere just before he got lucky."

  "Did you get them?"

  "The guy, the friend of the extremely lucky and unlucky third victim, said that he had been curious where they went to because the guy had been a rotten gambler. So he talked to the dead man's wife. She said that they weren't with the rest of his effects when she got them from the police."

  "So maybe they were taken from him by whoever called the police."

  "That's possible. I considered that. Or they kept them as evidence of something or other."

  "Wherever they are, it seems we are dealing with one deadly artifact."

  "Apparently."

  "So maybe we should focus on the lock, combine our efforts."

  That surprised me. "What? Clarence, that lock isn't going anywhere, and the dice are killing people. If we are going to work together, I think it's more important that we find the dice."

  "We don't have any experience with really deadly artifacts, Cecilia."

  "We didn't have any experience with any kind of artifact when we started. There's only one way to get experience. It isn't like you can take a course at the neighborhood community college in the proper handling of cursed objects."

  "I know, but…"

  "But nothing. Look, we can call Enid and pick her brain. Maybe she has some handy tips for dealing with an object that makes you use up all your luck in bursts. There might be some way to protect yourself"

  "That's a good start," he said reluctantly. "Telling her what we are after has triggered her memory before."

  "Then I'll call her."

  "I'm not comfortable with letting the lock slip away from us though. We need it.”

  I stood up and got my credit card out of my purse, summoning the bartender and handing it to her. "Clarence, do you mind if we talk about this more tomorrow?”

  “What about dinner?” he said.

  “No offense, but if we eat together we will talk shop. It's been a long and trying day. I want to go to my room and get a bath, send out for pizza, and crawl into bed. I’ll call Enid and see what ideas she might have for keeping the dice safe and us safe from them. And the lock for that matter. You might keep in mind that there are often nuances to the curses that aren't obvious and a curse with the downside that it that attracts beetles doesn’t strike me as the kind of thing we’ve come to expect."

  “That would depend on the beetles, wouldn’t it?” Edgar had materialized on the bar stool on the other side of me. “I mean they might be huge and voracious.”

  “Good point, Edgar,” Clarence said. Then he gave me a curious look. “Calling it an early night is a good idea. So is calling Enid. She might give you some more information and you can sleep on it. How about meeting here at seven in the morning? We'll figure out the next step over bacon and eggs. We can make a plan over breakfast?"

  There were those plans again. "Sure. I hope they have decent coffee," I said.

  "You are quite the coffee snob… just like Mason."

  "He was my favorite relative for many reasons, although his secrets are turning into something of a chore."

  “He locked some people up,” Edgar said. “That wasn’t nice of him.”

  “And what’s Enid’s concern about you?” I asked. “I know there must be a story there.”

  “If so, then I certainly don’t have any idea what it is.”

  The bartender gave me my charge slip. "Well sleep well."

  "After I call Enid and figure out how I'm going to track down and secure the dice before more people get hurt." He nodded as I paid for my drink and went to my room.

  As I walked to my room the advice Enid had given me about dealing with Clarence still buzzed in my head. I could see he was worried about me. He also thought he should be running the hunt for the cursed objects. It was true that he was better organized, and a better planner, but it seemed to me that dealing with things that were outside the realm of the natural world required my instinctive approach. I sighed at the knowledge that Enid was right. Ideally we needed to combine his thoughtful approach with my gut responses. Unfortunately, knowing that didn't make his constant need to be overly cautious any less aggravating to deal with.

  He could stand to lighten up a lot and I didn't think I was being excessively hard on him. It seemed that no matter what we did, no matter what I thought was the right thing to do, Clarence dragged his feet. We had to examine everything bad that might happen, all that could go wrong before acting. And while we'd found that there was plenty that could go wrong, not doing anything wasn't going to get the job done either.

  I made up my mind. No matter what Enid said, I wanted to go after those dice. They were killing people and I wanted to stop them. I felt a certain responsibility and, if nothing else, getting them tucked away would go some ways to getting us the experience with more dangerous artifacts that Clarence thought we lacked. Of course, I wanted to prove to him that taking a gamble wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

  If I could get him to accept the idea that any kind of gamble was a reasonable thing it would be progress.

  Chapter 7

  When I got back to my room I did all those things I’d said I would, and after I had settled down with the pizza the delivery man had brought I called Enid. I was eager to find out if she knew anything, or had learned something.

  "I did manage to to find the ledger entry for the artifact you are interested in," she said. “The dice were an early one in the book.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “It isn’t so fantastic in my opinion. In fact, I have to say that I don’t like this at all. You’re dealing with some serious nastiness here.”

  “Every artifact has been nasty in its own way. I mean, all the curses wind up messing up whoever uses the power. And wasn’t that the basis for your argument with Uncle Mason?”

  I could imagine the smell of lilac and lavender wafting over me along with her resigned and gentle sigh. “That’s true enough, I suppose. And we did take some substantial risks in dealing with those evil t
hings.”

  "So, if the dice were in the ledger, doesn’t that mean Uncle Mason knew about these dice? Why didn't he go after them?"

  "Actually, I don't know if he did know about them. I don't remember ever hearing him talking about them and this ledger entry is from before his time as an Antique Dealer."

  "This isn't his ledger?"

  "He was keeping it, as I suppose you should be now… it pays to document things thoroughly. But that book was handed down to him and someone else made this entry in the ledger long ago. It might have been a very long time ago from the look of it."

  "I don't suppose that whoever made the entry was kind enough to add any helpful notes? There aren’t any instructions about ways to keep the dice secure once we get our hands on them?"

  I heard her flipping pages. "No. Sorry. All it says about them is that they were cursed such that they call to gamblers; they make them think that picking them up will change their luck for the better.”

  “Which they seem to do in the short run.”

  “Apparently, the dice amplify the amount of the owner’s luck that is applied to any wager—so long as he or she still has any that is. That means the danger to you is that it will use up your luck.”

  “Making the potential for a freak accident more probable.”

  “It seems so. That suggests, to me at least, that when you get your hands on them you really, really need to avoid doing anything that requires luck. Don’t take chances. Don’t defy the odds in any way, because in every case, whenever you call on the dice, you’ll actually use more of your luck than is needed to win.” She snorted. “I hadn’t thought of luck as a finite commodity before, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. A restorable thing, like your energy level. And because these dice don’t make lucky things happen through some outside force, they are dangerous. The curse is that they will ensure you win, but that means that they can use your luck up in an extravagant fashion to make certain. It's all rather wasteful, really.”

  “Well, that means these dice are right at home in Las Vegas. Everything in this city seems extravagant to me. Looking around, I’m not sure anyone here needs help using up their luck – everyone’s luck seems to run out sooner or later. I guess that these dice just make it an event rather than a process.”

  "Exactly. It's quite an interesting curse when you think about it."

  "Interesting? That isn't the word that comes to my mind."

  "Well, call it curious then. The curious case of the cursed dice.”

  “What’s curious about it?”

  “Well, if our information is correct, the dice don't actually give you anything—using them doesn’t give a new skill or ability, and it doesn’t provide some special power. Think about the spectacles you and Clarence recovered a while back. They gave the person who wore them the ability to see the future. And more recently, that piece of the first space shuttle gave you the ability to defy gravity."

  "All at a price."

  She smiled. "My dear, nothing is free, even with magic. Perhaps especially when it comes to magic. But my point is, this pair of dice just focuses all your good luck and uses it up in a short period of time. You don't gain any special abilities from them."

  "Just a rather special death, in the sense that it is unlikely and unusual. But this artifact is consistent in that it makes the user appear to have special powers. They just go about things differently. And after all, some special abilities are nothing more than the ability to concentrate regular abilities more than normal people can, the way trained athletes do. The artifact lets you perform better. It’s like that."

  "Like what?" Enid asked.

  "Well, Einstein could think deeply, but when he did that meant he lost awareness of the world around him. I read once that when he left the house his wife would sometimes find him standing on the porch an hour later. He'd gotten that far and started thinking about something and forget to go wherever he was headed."

  "He used up his awareness by concentrating it?"

  "That’s one way to think about it."

  “You don’t think that Einstein… never mind. You just keep thinking. The more we understand about the curses, how they work and so on, the easier it will be to track down the cursed artifacts and keep them safe."

  "Right. But for now, do you have any thoughts, even a guess, as to how we can keep the dice from using up our luck once we obtain them?"

  "Short of not trying to do anything that is a gamble…"

  "Crossing the street is a gamble. Everything has odds."

  "I suppose that’s true. Still, resisting going up to the gaming tables seems a good start though."

  "Especially roulette," I said. "These dice have a thing about roulette."

  "They do?"

  "All three of the victims we know about won at the roulette table."

  "Makes you wonder," Enid said. Then she was quiet for a moment. "Unfortunately, I don't know exactly what about that fact to wonder about."

  "Me neither. No clue."

  "If it were me…"

  "Yes." I could smell a thought coming.

  "I'd get a bag of some kind to keep the dice in.”

  “A bag?”

  “I’m thinking that it might be physical contact with a sweaty gambler's palm that triggers them. Tucked inside a bag they might not be activated."

  That made a certain amount of sense. With the artifacts we’d encountered before contact was important. "I’ll keep that in mind. From what I've read and learned from talking to people, all three of the victims were bad gamblers… not used to winning. When they started doing well they would have been nervous."

  “Good idea.”

  “I wish I was certain that the lock Clarence was after didn’t have any downside besides attracting beetles. That seems awfully lame compared to the other artifacts.”

  "Of course it doesn’t do as much either.”

  “Good point.”

  “Can I assume from that comment that you are going after the dice alone?"

  "It seems so. I wouldn’t, but Clarence seems to have other priorities."

  "And yours are more important? Yours are the ones that matter?”

  “I...”

  She did her mother hen clucking and shut me up. “It doesn't matter who is right or wrong to me. What bothers me is that you two are not working together, acting as a team. Splitting up that way is dangerous. When you are divided you are not the formidable team we envisioned."

  "We? Who is this we? And when did they envision this dream team?"

  "I shouldn’t have… you never mind about that now. I know I can’t say anything to change your mind, but be sure to let me know how things are going. While you are off on your crusade, I'll reread the ledger and see if I missed anything. Maybe I can even contact some other Antique Dealers and find out if anyone knows anything useful."

  "Call me if you come up with something. Right now I’m going to get some sleep. Clarence and I are meeting in the morning and I expect I'll be back to work tracking them down right after breakfast. I'll make sure I have my phone on."

  “And make sure Clarence is on speed dial,” she said.

  “Right.”

  Chapter 8

  When I managed to drag myself into the restaurant at a quarter after seven, Clarence was already fidgeting in a booth. I convinced him to delay the talk until we had ordered and I’d gotten a cup of coffee.

  “That’s a weakness, not being able to start the day without coffee,” he said.

  “It’s a fact, not a weakness. It’s well known that a moderate amount of caffeine increases intelligence and awareness.”

  “I think you are making that up,” he said.

  “Maybe I am. I like the sound of it though.”

  The food came quickly—never a good sign in my experience. It smelled good though, and I was starving. I dug in without preamble.

  "I really don’t think we should split up," Clarence said, making me moan around a mouthful of the breakfast special.


  The moan was partly because of what he’d said, but it contained more than a tiny amount of disappointment. Despite the attractive name on the menu, the breakfast we’d been served didn't strike me as special at all. The truth was that it was a fairly ordinary and, by Destiny’s Point standards, overpriced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. It came with coffee, which would have made everything all right if it hadn’t been a cheap drip-grind concoction that spent the morning overcooking in a large urn. It gave me a shot of caffeine but not the coffee I wanted.

  "You've been talking to Enid, haven't you?"

  He scowled. "Sure. So have you. She told me you want to go off on your own and get the dice."

  I didn't. Not exactly. "After we talked last night I thought that was the conclusion we both came to. It isn't that I want to go off on my own, but you think the lock is our priority. I'm concerned about the damage the dice can do, the people they might kill. As far as I can tell, the only way that works is if we split up."

  Edgar sat in the booth with us, listening. "I'm concerned about the damage the dice might do to you."

  "Enid had an idea for protection."

  Clarence sniffed. "Right. She told me about it too. You really think that putting the dice in a bag will protect you from the curse?"

  "The theory makes sense. It could be that contact with a sweaty hand is what makes the connection, turns the dice on, as it were. After all, even though the spectacles called to us, they didn't exert any power, no real power, until you put them on."

  "I wouldn't know," Clarence said. "I never put them on.” He looked into my eyes. “I knew that would be foolhardy."

  His point was, of course, that I had put them on. I’ll admit that Clarence did have something of a point… except that I didn't see another choice at the time, and it had worked. "It worked," I said. "It let me see what not to do."

  "By that time you knew how they operated. The dice are new and totally unknown."

  “Except that they always end in the mortal dying,” Edgar said. “That’s probably their best feature.”

  I tapped his hand. "Well, it so happens that I came up with a modification to Enid's idea. This is courtesy of Edgar."