by Gene Curtis
Chenoa smiled, “She’s right. The Purple Possum is just down from the curio shop, The Blue Bowl. It’s right next to Red Feathers; that place that sells arrow heads and Occoneechee art.”
“Thanks honey,” Shirley smiled. “Point is; I can get us there.” She closed her eyes and a moment later said, “It’s a bit chilly there and it looks like it might rain soon. There is foot traffic on the sidewalks, how about... here?” She placed one hand on Mr. Diefenderfer’s shoulder and the other on Mr. Young’s shoulder.
Mr. Diefenderfer and Mr. Young both said, “Got it.” All three extended their arms for the rest to take hold.
The vacant lot was between two old brick buildings. The dead grass was about knee high and it was more than chilly, it was in fact a little cold. Mark removed a light jacket from Aaron’s Grasp and put it on. Shirley handed Steve a sweater. Everyone else put on an extra top layer too. Mark thought Mr. Diefenderfer looked a little like a biker; he was bald and his arms were all muscle, not a bit of fat anywhere. His vest was sleeveless, as was his shirt. Back at school, seeing him without sleeves was pretty common. He was always without sleeves except when he taught class and wore the mandatory hooded robe. He didn’t teach anymore since Mr. Fairbanks had been promoted to his position. Seeing him now, Mark couldn’t help but think Mr. Diefenderfer looked like he should be on a Harley.
On the other hand, Mr. Young looked like he’d just walked out of an old western, a prospector maybe, scraggly beard and everything. All he lacked was a beat up cowboy hat and handkerchief around his neck.
The group walked to the sidewalk behind Shirley and Chenoa and followed them toward the cafe. Mark stopped when he saw the book display through the window of the curio shop. One book stood out from the others because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The white cover sported a line drawing that looked very much like the sunstone, the real one, or the replica, not the typical Mayan calendar that’s so well known. How in the world did a drawing of the sunstone get on the cover of that book?
“Hold up!” He pointed through the window. “Is that a clue?” He went into the little store while the others looked through the window at what he’d spotted. The title of the book was in Latin, Neo Ordinem Orbis with the English version of the title below it, New World Order. He picked up the book and looked at the back cover. The author picture was of a youngish Mr. Rutherford; one with hair, and the caption C. H. Rutherford was below it. The group entered behind him. He turned and handed the book to Mr. Diefenderfer with the back cover facing him and then turned to the clerk and asked with an air of curiosity, “Where’d you get this book?”
“Got ‘em from the author, Clarence. He’s always writing about some crazy theory of his’n. That’s the latest one. Afore that he was a writing about how the Occoneechee are a noble race descended from the three kings; you know... gold, frankincense and myrrh. Called ‘em magi.” He looked at Chenoa. “Hey, you’re Occoneechee, ain’t ya?” He bowed his head and looked back up with a big grin. “Are you one ‘o them magi?”
Chenoa patted her pockets, “Sorry, no gold, frankincense or myrrh. Got a nice lint ball if you’d like that?”
The man’s face fell. “Sorry missy, no offence meant. It’s just that Clarence comes up with some of the craziest ideas you’d ever want to hear, but people buy his books.”
Mr. Diefenderfer held up a fifty-dollar bill, “I’ll take two. Do you know... where I might... find Mr. Rutherford?”
The man’s face went white when he finally looked Mr. Diefenderfer in the face: at his eyes, at his scar. The man didn’t speak.
“Perchance... you have never... seen a scarred man before now.”
“No... no... sorry to stare. That must have been some accident. Motorcycle?”
“Combat... I was in... a coma for... fifteen years.”
The man looked side to side and then back at Mr. Diefenderfer. “Um... thank you for your service.”
“You are kindly... welcome, good sir. Now... about Mr. Rutherford?”
“Clarence lives out South Boston way, on a farm, but he’s almost always at his bookstore. It’s right there on Main Street, can’t miss it. It’s the only bookstore there.”
The man rang up the purchase and they left. LeOmi led the group to the Purple Possum. A bell tinkled when she opened the door and the lady behind the counter said, “Have a seat, hon. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
There wasn’t anyone else in the cafe and the tables had shockingly purple tablecloths. “There are eleven of us. Mind if we push some tables together?”
“They’re fastened to the floor, hon. Eleven you say? Should I put on another pot of coffee?”
Jamal said, “I could do with a cup of coffee.”
Nick said, “I could too.”
A few others nodded. “Yes on the coffee,” LeOmi called.
No one noticed Ruby enter the department store across the street.
* * *
Ruby walked into the store and up to the man standing back from the front window. “They didn’t see you?”
“They didn’t even glance this way. Besides, I was in the store looking out through the window, back here like this.”
“You said they were excited by what they found. What was it?”
“I don’t know. They bought something small in that store over there, The Blue Bowl.”
“How small?”
“I’d guess about the size of a book.”
“They’re in the cafe now?”
The man glanced at his watch. “Went in about five minutes ago.”
“You can go now.”
“You aren’t going to go after her?”
“Two against eleven; are you kidding?”
“This mean the stakeout is over?”
“For now. See me later this afternoon.”
“In your office?”
“Yeah, in fact, go there now.”
Ruby walked away from the man, out the door and across the street to The Blue Bowl. It didn’t take more than a glance in the window to see what they had been excited about, that book with the picture of the sunstone on it. She walked in, picked up a copy and asked the man, “How much?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
She opened the front cover. “Got any autographed copies?”
“No, but the author is local.”
“Oh yeah, where about?”
“Gonna buy the book?”
She handed him a twenty. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks. He has a bookstore in South Boston, right on Main Street. Rutherford’s Reads.”
“Thanks, see you next time.”
* * *
They sat at adjacent tables. Mark took one of the books out of the bag and started thumbing through it.
When the lady came out to take their orders, she was wearing a bright purple apron that matched the tablecloths. When she saw Mark looking through the book she said, “Crazy Clarence, he’s a hoot ain’t he? What’ll ya have, hon?”
“Lemonade, please.” Her hair was gray with a blue tint and pulled up in a bun under her hair net. “Why do you call him Crazy Clarence?”
“You got his book; when you read it you’ll understand. He’s writ fifty if he’s writ one. The bookstore in Oxford has the whole collection.”
“Oxford? The college in England?”
She patted his shoulder in a flamboyant gesture of humor, “Oh hon, ain’t you the one? Oxford, North Carolina, just across the line. That’s where I’m from. Now, what would you like to eat?”
“Just the lemonade. We’ve already had breakfast. We’re just waiting for a friend to show up; he’s supposed to be here about noon.”
“You don’t mean Jack, do you?”
“Jacque, he’s driving up from New Orleans to meet someone here at noon. We thought we’d surprise him.”
“Well, the surprise is on you, hon. Jack... Jacque got here before the crack of dawn and called Willie. They left to go look at his horses ‘round seven I’d say. Probab
ly done by now.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have Willie’s phone number, would you?”
“I could look it up in the phone book, but it won’t do you no good. Willie don’t carry no cell phone and he won’t get the message until he gets back home. You could try calling Jack, but cell coverage in the county is hit and miss at best. Not enough people for a lot of towers.”
Mr. Young said, “Thank you, ma’am.” When she looked at him, he handed a ten-dollar bill toward her. “We’ll be going now. Jacque is supposed to be in South Boston next. We’ll see if we can’t catch him there. Thank you for your hospitality.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Piccolo Cafe
Back in the vacant lot, LeOmi said, “He’s not supposed to be in South Boston until tomorrow.”
Mark said, “We can check out the places he’s supposed to be in case he gets there early and we can visit Mr. Rutherford to ask him about his book?”
They remanifested to South Boston into an alley between a bank and an insurance broker. When they got to the sidewalk there was no pedestrian traffic, and only one car passed by on the street. Shirley said, “This is Main Street. I have no idea where the bookstore is.”
Mark asked, “Where are the people?”
James said sarcastically, “Don’t suppose it could be that it’s Sunday, do you?”
Mark pointed to the stores across the street, “Tattoo parlor, gun store, local art gallery, you’d think that they’d be open.”
Shirley closed her eyes and a moment later said, “They all open at noon. Ah, there’s the bookstore. It doesn’t open until noon either.”
Jamal asked, “Is there any place open that serves coffee?”
A moment later she said, “Piccolo Cafe, two blocks up, is open.”
There were four black wire mesh tables with two chairs each in front of the two large windows that framed the entrance. The cafe was devoid of customers and the one young waitress greeted them when they walked in. “Why hello. You folks must be traveling. We don’t usually get customers this time of the morning. You can sit right over here.” She led them to a large table and as they were being seated said, “My name is Brandy. What can I get you to drink?” Her Virginia accent was a little distracting. When she said the word name it sounded more like naem; it was like she drew out the vowel sounds and added an occasional ‘a’ or ‘r’ to the end of words. She pronounced here as he-ah.
When Brandy returned with their drinks Mr. Young said, “We’re trying to catch up with a friend. He’s supposed to be at Paradise at noon tomorrow. Would you happen to know where that is?”
“Well sugar, you must not be from around here. This used to be called Paradise. The new owner changed the name last year, but locals still call it Paradise. And if you’re looking for Jacque, you missed him. He was here this morning to meet Twig. They ate breakfast and went to Twig’s farm.”
“He’s supposed to be at a place called Cowboy’s Bar and Grill tomorrow afternoon.”
“Cowboy’s is over Virgilina way. That there is Twig’s boy’s, Bud’s place. They raise horses together on the same farm.”
LeOmi shook her head and said, “Looks like we’re not destined to catch up with Jacque anytime soon.”
Mark asked, “You don’t happen to know anything about this guy, do you?” He showed her the book.
“Crazy Clarence? He don’t sell horses. I doubt Jacque would go see him. Nice enough fellow though, but if you ask me, he’s a little titched.” She tapped the side of her head with her finger. “Always talking about crazy stuff, you know, like there’s this big conspiracy to take over the world or something. Him and his misses have a farm out in the county, don’t grow nothin’ or raise animals; just has a bookstore here in town. Don’t do much business though. All he sells is books about weird stuff.”
A man in a kitchen apron walked up and sat a large platter of puff pastries on the table. He said with an Italian accent, “Ah, buongiorno my friends. I am Paul and welcome to my humble cafe. I sometimes make too much pastries in the morning. It is my pleasure to give them to you and not have to throw them away. It is such a fine pleasure to have you here this morning as it is very unusual to have so many at this hour. You are travelers, no?” The man was wearing a signet.
Brandy interjected, “They’re trying to catch up with Jacque.”
Mr. Young said, “Indeed, we are travelers from the west seeking Jacque. He may hold answers to questions we have.”
“Ah, I too was a traveler, from the east. I think you must continue your journey, to find the answers you seek. But you remind me of my home, and the mountains in the distance; the second mountain was so grand.”
Mr. Young nodded, “From my home it is the seventh mountain that is spectacular.”
“We are kindred souls, no? Then it is my hope that you find your answers, but for now, enjoy the pastries.”
When Brandy and Paul were out of earshot, Mark leaned over the table and whispered, “It’s obvious he’s a Magi from The Second Mountain. What I don’t get is why he’s here. Is he keeping an eye out for the sunstone? If that’s so, why would they even hide it here? This area can’t offer them enough security.”
Mr. Diefenderfer replied, “I see you... are unaware of... this area’s history. During the Civil... War, confederate spies... were trained in... an academy not... twenty miles from... here. Mr. Jefferson Beale... is rumored to... have buried an... enormous treasure near... here. It has as... yet to be... found. This area was... riddled with gold... mines before the... California gold rush... many of... which have yet... to be rediscovered. It is even... a possibility that... the lost Confederate... gold is hidden... in this area. This area was... a major crossroads... during the days... of exploration and... still holds many... secrets. Secrets are a... way of life... in this place.”
Mr. Young added, “The very fact that you don’t see the security here is ample enough reason to keep a look out for the sunstone. It really could be anywhere.”
Nick said, “I’ve been thinking about why the sunstone is so important. I mean, Benrah went to a lot of trouble to keep it out of our hands. It will probably reveal some crucial information that would be detrimental to his plans. It has a dial face and I suspect that the dial indicates important dates, not just past, but future dates too. These dates can only be nodal points in time, points where destiny’s path is fixed. Nothing else makes sense.
“Then there were the rumors in the engineering labs. They’re saying whatever those mystery guests were working on sure had nothing to do with radiation clean up. First, there wasn’t even the slightest trace of radiation from that lab and the mystery guests were wearing radiation suits. Second, why keep a radiation spill secret? There are plenty of qualified people to help with that kind of thing. That can only mean that a secret project was going on and that is the lab where the sunstone was studied. They think they’re related.”
It was more than a minute before Mr. Diefenderfer spoke, “They are close... and not so... close. What is secret... will remain secret. Say nothing of... this.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hello Ruby
There was a narrow sweeping staircase behind the drink station in the center of the cafe that led to a mezzanine overlooking the first level. Mark got up and asked Brandy, “What’s upstairs? Are we allowed to go up there?”
“Help yourself, sugar. Paul likes to support the local artists and displays their art up there. Some of it is pretty good, but it’s too expensive for my taste.”
Nick followed him up the stairs. Paintings lined the walls, small statues sat on plinths just out from the walls, several display cases exhibited hand crafted jewelry and there was even a bookcase presenting the works of about fifty local writers. Gold Mines of Halifax County caught his attention and he picked up a copy. The back cover showed a map with dots indicating where the known abandoned mines were located. His property was right in the center of the tightest cluster, but there was no dot there.
&n
bsp; Nick called, “Hey, look at this. Isn’t that Chenoa?”
He was pointing at a cameo in the display case. Mark walked over and indeed, the cameo looked just like a front view of Chenoa’s face. It was very detailed; even the eyes were exactly right. The price tag on the chain read, Red Feather, $500. He picked it up.
Back downstairs, he paid for the items, walked over and handed the book to Mr. Young with the map facing him.
Mr. Young glanced at the map and then turned the book over to look at the title. “There were rumors when I acquired that property, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t even consider the possibility when I willed it to you. I had no need of it since I live in Magi City and I didn’t know what your situation would be, or mine for that matter. That’s why I left you the portfolio. Family should look after family.”
Jamal said, “That is as it should be.”
Mark smiled, “Thank you.” He stepped over to Chenoa and dangled the cameo in front of her face. “This has to be you.”
She reached up and held the pendant still in her fingers. “Red Feather did this. He was testing a machine he built that takes a picture of a person’s face in sections and sends it to a computer that controls a tiny cutting machine. Said he’d sell it to me for a hundred dollars. A hundred dollars! I didn’t buy it.”
“I’d have bought it for you if it had cost a thousand dollars.” He looked at Jamal and said to Chenoa, “You’re family. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t have thought twice about getting hers for her. You mean more to me than a sister.”
She stood, turned, hugged him and whispered. “I love you.” She was crying.
He knew from Dream Casts how she thought she felt about him. He loved her too but not in the romantic sense. He thought that maybe somewhere in the distant future something like romance could develop between them, but not now, he had to concentrate on defeating Benrah.
