The Curious Case of the Cursed Dagger (Curiosity Shop Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Constance Barker

  I was stunned. I didn’t think we’d been that obvious. Clarence was too and, at first, no one said anything. Finally, Clarence coughed and asked, "Who says we are following you? Maybe we are interested in the new line of..." he stopped and looked, "...garden hoes." He sounded surly. I think he was angry that we'd been caught.

  "The problem is that in this town it’s kind of hard to miss when you are being followed. There are what, four people on the street, and we are three of them?"

  "I count six people," I said. “There are two over by the stationary store and one going into the drug store.”

  "And a ghost," Edgar said. “That makes seven.”

  “I don’t count ghosts,” the man said casually.

  “That’s rather rude of you,” Edgar sniffed.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “And I didn’t mean it that way. It’s more a matter of being practical. Ghosts don't typically need to follow anyone unless they are haunting them. That means you are just tagging along. If you were shadowing me by yourself it might be different, but in this case, I assume you are haunting one of these two humans and have no particular agenda concerning me. So please, don’t be offended. I meant no disrespect by that. None at all.”

  "Well, in that case..." Edgar was mollified.

  After I got over the shock that he was even aware of Edgar, much less saw and heard him, I decided to ignore the fact for the moment. It might be significant, but we had more pressing business to sort out, like some important lying. “Why would we be following you?” I asked.

  He looked in my direction. “I imagine that you’d know that better than I. If I had to guess, I’d think that you want to find out what I’m doing in town. Maybe you care where I’m going. Am I close? I’m just guessing here, but those seem like reasons that a person might follow another person.”

  “You certainly left the diner in an awful hurry.”

  He choked off a laugh. "To get some quiet. I went in for a peaceful glass of cold milk. Even though it’s low-fat milk, I was looking forward to it. It’s getting hard to find real whole milk anymore. Everyone is so extraordinarily paranoid about fat content these days that it’s scarce.”

  “So you didn’t expect us there?”

  “Not at all. I tried to ignore the three of you, but your eyes were burning holes in my back and made me feel uncomfortable. So I drank up and left. So why did you follow me?"

  The talk was all calm, nonthreatening. Three people and a ghost were just having a civilized discussion in front of the hardware store on Main Street in Traverse. He didn't sound sinister to me at all. He sounded like a man who didn't like being followed.

  Well, fair is fair, I suppose, but I didn't like having my great plan messed with and it got my back up. Note to self, learn to deal better with setbacks. "I know who you are," I blurted out. I wanted to stir something up, get a response from him. It was a dumb move... I know.

  He looked at me again. The ridge over his eyes that should’ve been replete with eyebrows formed an arch. I'd surprised him and seeing that pleased me. At least he wasn’t totally unflappable. "You know who I am? How exciting. Who am I?"

  In the face of what sounded like the tiniest bit like sarcasm, I decided to let fly with both barrels. It didn't seem like there was much to lose—beyond my dignity. "Well, not who, exactly, but we know that you are a member of the Cabal and you came to Traverse looking for an artifact—a cursed object."

  I caught a twinge in his face that told me I’d struck home. I expected him to start running, or attack us, or scream at us in a booming threatening voice. What he did was scratch his chin, purse his lips and say: "I suppose that is close to right; it’s technically correct, although... I imagine it’s as close to the truth as you could get, anyway."

  "Aha," Edgar and I both said.

  "Since you know that much, I'm surprised that you are following me.”

  “You are?”

  “If I’m part of the Cabal, an agent of theirs, I doubt that most sensible people would think approaching me would be a good idea. Isn’t the Cabal supposed to be dangerous? Following a member wouldn’t be a safe or sane thing to do. I mean, doesn’t being an agent of theirs make me a sinister and demonic sort of being? I’d certainly think it would."

  "Are you threatening us?" I asked. It was a serious question. I was confused because the tone of his voice was more one of concern than threatening.

  He stepped back. "Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Did I sound threatening? I wasn't intending that at all.” He scratched his chin again. “I see your point though. Replaying that little speech of mine, I can see how you might take it that way—as intending to menace you. I assure you that was totally unintentional and you have my deepest apologies.”

  “You aren’t dangerous?” Edgar asked.

  “No, I'm no real danger to you at all. None of you. Not directly, at any rate. Partly I was curious why you’d have the audacity to follow a dangerous agent of the Cabal.”

  “Audacious is our middle name,” I said.

  “All three of you?”

  “That’s a figure of speech,” Clarence said.

  “Oh. Well, it is also true that if you follow me there is a high likelihood that you will, sooner or later, be exposed to absurdly high levels of danger. That's what I should've said... that following me might become risky—dangerous for reasons beyond my control. Sorry if that came across badly or nastily."

  "What are you going to do or where are you going that's so dangerous?"

  The question stopped him. "What am I...” Then he laughed. “Oh, I see! Once again we've miscommunicated. I’m not skilled with language and it’s another case of me speaking poorly. I'm not off to do something dangerous at all. That is, it won’t be dangerous to me, at any rate. You see, I’m relatively immune to many kinds of danger that would be hazardous for you. Even so, I habitually avoid danger whenever possible. What I was trying to explain was that I have a problem with projecting the future—I have a bad habit of future pacing. Because of that, I saw fairly clearly that following me presents a danger for you—even the ghost—although I can’t say what the danger is. I really do apologize for not being more clear. I think my brain must be a bit fuzzy today, the way I keep unintentionally alarming you."

  "Then what?"

  "What what?" he asked, truly puzzled.

  "You say you aren't a danger to us?"

  He held out his open hands. "Not in the least. I have neither the weapons nor the sinister intention that might cause me to pose any sort of threat."

  "And you aren't going to do anything dangerous..."

  "Please... nothing dangerous to me. And only if I can help it. I’m not always able to avoid danger. Please pay my qualifiers careful attention."

  "So why would following you be dangerous?"

  "Oh yes, I see your bewilderment now. Mostly it's that, despite my safety first approach to existence, I seem to attract trouble. I have a history of it.”He chuckled. “And my history is rather a long one and therefore probably reliable as a gauge of such things. No matter how careful I am, it gravitates toward me. I've survived it so far, but I'd feel responsible and remorseful if you followed me and were injured or killed."

  "But you aren't going to harm us, even though you work for the Cabal?" Clarence asked. "I know you’ve said that, but I’m just making sure we are clear."

  "Not intentionally, as I said. I abhor violence. That’s just who I am."

  "So now we know who you are, but not your name," I said.

  "Again, my apologies. My name is Belial Hohenheim," he said, holding out a hand. "People usually call me Bel."

  We shook his hand and told him our names. They didn't seem to mean anything to him. “You weren’t expecting to find us in town?”

  “No, but I’m guessing you are here because of the artifact,” he said.

  “It might be. What artifact?”

  “The one the reporter suggested is here. I’m certain you’ve talked to him. He’s quite gabby and he
frightens easily.”

  “Then you know about the killings?”

  “Of course. That’s what made the reporter think there might be an artifact operating in this town. Actually, I’d have no reason to be in this town if it weren’t for the possibility of finding an artifact. The milk they serve here is low-fat. Can you imagine that? What a backward place.”

  “So you said. So we seem to be after the same thing.”

  “Whole milk?”

  “That and the artifact.”

  “So it would seem.” The idea seemed to please him.

  “Bel, because you seem like a decent sort, for a Cabal thug, surprisingly so, I should warn you that if there is an artifact in this town, we intend to take it and put it away."

  "Away?"

  "We want to store it somewhere safe."

  He scratched his head. "Really? Is that possible? You can store artifacts safely?"

  “Sure.”

  “Wow, that’s good news. I don’t have a clue how they do what they do, but I know they cause trouble in the world.”

  “You don’t know what the Cabal does with them?”

  “Not really.” He scratched his head. “You know, it never occurred to me to ask. When I first started this job I did warn them that they were powerful, but they told me not to worry about that. So I don’t.”

  I touched his arm. "Since you know that and you know we want to keep it safe, I wonder if there is a chance that you would just leave town and let us do that? We will find it and store it away safely."

  The request seemed to embarrass him. "Cecelia, I understand what you are asking and I have to say I see your point, I really do. It makes sense. You are thinking of keeping people safe from the artifact.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Unfortunately, I can't do that."

  "You can't?"

  "No, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He cocked his head. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I just know it is true. I have no choice. I was sent to find it and I must take it back with me.”

  “We don’t have a choice either,” Clarence said. “That’s a problem.”

  His eyes dilated. “Really? How sad. I hope that doesn't mean we have to be adversaries. You seem like nice people and I try to make friends with nice people. I try hard. It doesn't often work out the way I'd like, but all you can do is make the effort. You can’t control how things work out. Isn't that right?"

  His answer rattled me. "I don’t suppose you can control that, Bel. But if you are working for the Cabal, well, that automatically puts us on opposite sides. How could we be friends if you are working for them?"

  "I see your point. I just hoped..." he seemed genuinely upset by the idea.

  “Why not switch sides and work with us? You like us.”

  “I do. It’s just that... it’s not possible.”

  He seemed sincere.”I’m sorry to hear that. So it looks like we will be adversaries.”

  "Well, if that's how it is, all I can do is wish you the best of luck. You will need it too."

  I wondered if that was some far-too subtle threat. "Why is that, if telling us doesn't give away too much?"

  He relaxed and smiled. "It’s just that I'm very good at finding artifacts. I’m probably much more sensitive to them than your ghost here.”

  “I doubt that very much,” Edgar said indignantly.

  “Well we will see, but based on my lengthy, far too lengthy track record, unless you are extremely lucky, I'll find it before you do. That's all.” He looked up and down the street as if he expected someone. “This is a very nice street,” he said. “And now I'd better get back to work." He held out a hand. "And seriously, I do wish you luck."

  We shook hands, with me feeling slightly numb and more than a little bewildered. What kind of Cabal guy seems to want you to beat him to an artifact, and wishes he could be friends? Who was this guy really?"

  "I don't get it," Clarence said, reading my mind.

  "Me either. He sounded sincere."

  "And the part about being good at finding artifacts had a ring of truth about it too. As if he's done this a few times before."

  Edgar squirmed uncomfortably. "I've got an itch," he said. "I can’t figure out how that works. Do I look more solid, less ethereal than usual?"

  "Not really," I said. "Must be a psychic itch." Clarence scowled. "You don't agree?" he asked me.

  “Me?” His words brought me out of a strange reverie and I looked at Edgar. “You just look uncomfortable, not solid.”

  “You seemed to go away,” Clarence said.

  "I was just thinking about how my world has changed since I came to Destiny's Point.”

  “What kind of changes?”

  I thumbed in Edgar’s direction. “There’s a perfect example. Nowadays we actually say things like that, talk about whether our friend the ghost looks okay, and mean them."

  "You've come a long way," Edgar said.

  Clarence smiled. “That’s certainly true enough. We've come a long way. Sometimes, however, I have to wonder what direction we’re traveling in?

  And, with that, my friend Clarence seemed to put his big, fat, philosophical thumb squarely on the scales I was trying so hard, but unsuccessfully, to get to balance out. I had friends who were ghosts and enemies who were powerful.

  I slapped Clarence on the back. “Exactly. Well said.” What direction indeed?

  Chapter Twelve

  As we walked back to the hotel, Clarence seemed chipper. "Okay, so it would seem that we have a little competition in town for this artifact hunt. So what? Given that this guy doesn't seem intent on taking us prisoner or killing us, that just means we are in a race to get the artifact."

  "He's very confident," I said. "I get the impression that he was telling the truth about being really good at finding artifacts. He said it with the confidence of someone who doesn’t need to posture."

  "Well, he didn’t swagger, that’s true, but he might talk that way if he thought it might make us give up. Maybe he wants us to think he’s super hot at this or on a fast track.”

  “I’m pretty sure he knows we are as serious as he is.”

  “But it would be worth a shot. If he did get us to give up, throw in the towel, he’d have a clear field. And we know the Cabal doesn’t like failure, so he might have several angles to play.”

  He had a point. “I could see that.”

  Edgar smirked. “I can’t believe that creature could have the sensitivity of a first-rate ghost when it comes to extrasensory perception.”

  "Maybe that’s not how he does it,” Clarence said. “He didn’t say he found them the same way, just that he was better at it. The truth is that we have no idea how he intends to search for the artifact."

  “We don’t know how we intend to do it yet either,” I pointed out.

  Clarence turned toward Edgar. "For all we know, he has his own ghost helping him."

  Edgar snorted. "Nope. That’s extremely doubtful. I’m certain that I would know if there were any other ghosts around," Edgar said. "And so far I haven’t spotted any truly intelligent life in this town, just that pseudo-human creature."

  "Pseudo-human creature?” I asked.

  Edgar laughed. “As close as you got to him, even shaking his hand twice, and you still think he is a human?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is so wrong.”

  “Then what is he?”

  Edgar stopped to think. “I didn’t think to... I can’t say. But he isn’t either a human or a ghost. That much is for sure.”

  I didn’t like having yet another unknown cluttering up this already complex situation, but my usual strategy of going into denial wouldn’t help either. "Well, right now we don’t have time to worry about what he is or how he works," I said. "We need to stick to our strengths and find this artifact fast."

  "Whatever it might be," Clarence said. “How do you want to start?”

  I smiled at them. "I think we need to st
ir things up." They both looked at me and I shrugged.

  “We usually manage to do that well,” Clarence admitted.

  That’s what I wanted to hear. "It's what we do best... most effectively."

  "That's true enough," Edgar said.

  "It's easy enough for you, Edgar," Clarence said. "You don't have to worry about the consequences of the crazy ideas she substitutes for plans."

  "I don’t? Consider this, Clarence... none of us has any idea what happens to me if something happens to her.”

  “That’s true,” I said.

  “All we know is that the two of us are connected in a very real way."

  Clarence sighed. "Okay, fair enough." They both turned to me with resigned expressions. "So any ideas on how we find the artifact?"

  Suddenly I did. "I think we need to get it to show itself."

  Clarence didn’t see the joy in that idea. "How do we do that? We’ve looked for it already. What else can we try? Do we put out treats and whistle, 'here artifact. Good little artifact, come to me now,' is that what you are thinking?"

  "No. Consider the situation. You think it’s hidden in the office, right?”

  “I still do.”

  “And I agree. Where else would it be? So we need to go back there and put out some bait."

  Clarence was getting into it, but I’d confused him. "You want to put out bait for Bel? Make him think we have it?"

  "No. We need to put out bait to attract the artifact, lure it out of hiding.”

  “Like using peanut butter for mice?”

  “Exactly. In this case, the artifact shows up in order to kill the mayor... actually, to have someone kill the mayor. While there is no mayor the artifact can’t do its thing, so it stays hidden. My guess is that it won't show itself until someone is in office."

  "And that helps us how?"

  I took out the application that Billy had given me and waved it in the air. "It’s time for the town to get a new mayor."

  Clarence looked shocked. “You?”

  I didn’t really like the dismay in his voice. “Of course, me. Who else is going to do it?”

  “Someone actually qualified, maybe?”

  “I’m as qualified as anyone and it will be safer if the next mayor knows the danger and has experience dealing with artifacts.”