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

by Constance Barker

  “Right. That didn’t help. She thinks that you and I, the mayor and her best friend being together in this office might kick start the thing, but that there might be more to it.”

  “I’d agree.”

  “And she thinks the effect might not be immediate. The influencing of us both, and she said to watch for that, could start without the dagger appearing.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “She’s guessing that’s how it will work,” he said. He looked at my stack of papers. “I see that your new office is not totally ceremonial.”

  “Apparently not. And I better get going on it if I’m going to avoid having Billy Walker kill me before you get to it.”

  “Since I need to be here, I’ll watch.” He sat down, and to my surprise, did exactly that. So I grabbed the papers and began to plow my way through the paperwork Billy had given me, signing where he’d thoughtfully put little yellow arrow stickers. As I signed, I wondered what our friend Bel was up to, and how a man like that, a man so polite and downright nice could be working for our nemesis, the Cabal.

  Just then the phone rang—the official mayor phone. "It's for you, I'd guess," Clarence said as we all stared at it.

  When I answered, it was Kenneth. "Wow. It’s you. So the rumor is true that you really took on the job of mayor?" he asked.

  "I seem to have."

  "Well, your honor, could I have the privilege of interviewing you?"

  "Why do you want to interview me, Kenneth?"

  "I think the paper might like to have it on hand. Just in case, if you see what I mean."

  "Sort of my last words before I meet the fate that all must meet. Before I shed this mortal coil? Is your headline The Martyred Mayor of Traverse?"

  "More of a sidebar to the main story I talked about. Something like Hope Springs Eternal: Outliving the Curse. And if you don't mind, could we do it quickly? I have a bad feeling that tells me time is at a premium."

  "I don't think so, Kenneth.”

  “Please?”

  “No way. I have a lot to do. I might put out an official statement later, but no one-on-one interviews right now."

  "The problem with that is that there might not be a later," he said.

  "Thanks for your encouragement and support." And I hung up. "He wanted an interview."

  He nodded. "Kenneth is like that. First, he wants to set you up to be killed, next thing he wants to interview you. Under the circumstances, that is gallows humor in action."

  "Although... maybe I should give him an interview."

  "Why would you do that?"

  "To get him here and see if he knows more than he's letting on."

  Linda Blakey came in. "My, my. So, you've decided to stay in Traverse," she said handing me a brochure. "Here is a sweet little cottage right in town. It’s quite a steal and if you were to get mortgage insurance... well, think about it. You'd leave a nice property free and clear for your loved ones."

  "Fine, I'll think about it," I said.

  She scowled. "I wouldn't wait too long." Then she smiled. "Now I need to put on my historian hat and go record your appointment to the job of mayor. I need to make it official."

  "And start the clock ticking," Clarence said, looking concerned.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "I sure don't see what, if anything, that these murders had in common," Clarence said. “The common thread is just a mayor stabbed by a friend or two, who confesses. Otherwise, they seem to have more differences than similarities.”

  We were back in the hotel. After I’d signed papers until my hand cramped we had retreated there to see if we could find the common thread that Enid had suggested had to be there. Naturally, that meant going over every one of the records that Linda Blakely had provided us with a fine-toothed comb. We faced a mountain of them and they were an eclectic mix of newspaper clippings, court records, police records, and miscellaneous documents.

  Despite the overwhelming amount of information in that pile, the challenge we faced seemed insurmountable. Some of the reports gave amazing amounts of agonizing detail, but it wasn’t necessarily accurate. The official forms tended to lack detail, especially anything that wasn’t provably factual.

  And over time, the level of coverage varied greatly. The older reports were hyperbolic, full of the sound and fury that sold newspapers in a bygone era. The more recent newspaper stories were skimpy, mostly a reflection on the previous dark and rather bleak history of mayors in Traverse. The press, it seemed, got bored writing the same old story each time. And, of course, in the days of social media, readers had less tolerance for in-depth reporting anyway. Anything after one hundred and forty characters was considered filler.

  And then there were the players themselves. Someone at the cursed office of central casting had used a large net when selecting both victims and killers. "This guy was retired military," Clarence said. "He’d been a general and ran on a ticket that he’d bring discipline to the town. The next one was an accountant.”

  “I know. This older one was accused of having an affair with an official from another town. That muddies the waters if jealousy enters into it.”

  “And this one...” He held up a single page. “Well, all we know about him is that he was a real-estate developer who managed to annex a local township to the city.”

  “Did that upset anyone?”

  “As far as I can tell from the letters to the editor at the time, it was a very popular idea. There were no lawsuits or even any complaints. It meant that the townspeople didn’t get a rate hike on their property taxes."

  “I did find one thing,” I said.

  “Good.”

  "It’s somewhat vague, but there are indications that people seemed to think the mayors all changed while in office. Some quickly and others more slowly."

  “Changed how?”

  I pointed to a column from the newspaper. "This columnist complained about how the general, who was a community oriented do-gooder, my words, was becoming power hungry, demanding more authority. Just before he was killed, he was trying to get the town council to expand the powers of the office.”

  “Some people do that.”

  “I agree, but the columnist noted that this behavior had a familiar ring to it.” I picked up the column. “He wrote, 'Just as with the two previous mayors...' It’s entirely possible it was the same for all of them."

  "Maybe that is the common thread. They wanted more power."

  “But that is a change in the victims and not a big enough deal to get a friend to stick a dagger in them. At least I hope not.”

  Edgar looked thoughtful for a moment, then took a breath before speaking. "Why, there was a crown offered him: and being offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, thus; and then the people fell a-shouting."

  "That sounds strangely familiar," I said.

  "It's Casca's line from the play," Edgar said.

  "The play we saw the other night?" Clarence guessed.

  "That's it. The ‘Caesar gets killed’ play. And now, in this tiny republic, Cecelia has been offered a crown.”

  “Not exactly a crown,” Clarence said. “It’s a tiny town mayoral gig.”

  “Just the first step toward the crown. You know, I would have made an excellent mayor. Perhaps I was one once."

  "At least you couldn't be murdered," Clarence chuckled. "But you'd be a lousy politician."

  "And why do you say that?" Edgar sounded offended.

  "Because the few people who can see you can usually see right through you."

  Edgar scowled for a moment. "Oh, I see. That is another of your pathetic attempts at humor."

  “Don’t confuse clever with pathetic just because you were wounded when my zinger struck home,” Clarence said.

  I listened to them bicker and suddenly, in one of those theatrical, proverbial flashes, I understood—something at least. "Edgar you are right."

  He glared at Clarence. "You see, Cecelia thinks I would be an excellent mayor. I'd be an
asset to any community."

  "What you were right about was the reference to Julius Caesar.” I pointed to the rough piles of documents. “We’ve found the common thread we’ve been looking for.”

  “I don’t think so,” Clarence said. “Not one of them invaded Britain.”

  “But all these people did things, to some degree and in some way, like Caesar. Think about it. He annexed adjacent lands. He was a general and famous for his conquests. He had an affair with Cleopatra."

  "Wow, I loved Elizabeth Taylor," Clarence said sounding dreamy.

  "I’m talking about the real Cleopatra," I said. "Not the actress. She had an affair and two marriages with Richard Burton, not Julius Caesar."

  Clarence looked puzzled. "I thought her affair was with Anthony."

  "Later on, after Julius went home, she had one with Anthony."

  Clarence made a face. “Are you telling me Elizabeth Taylor cheated on Julius Caesar with his friend?”

  “Cleopatra did.”

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  Edgar grinned. "It’s true. To quote Suetonius, the famed Roman historian, 'Caesar had love affairs with queens too...but above all with Cleopatra, with whom he often feasted until daybreak, and he would have gone through Egypt with her in her state-barge almost to Aethiopia, had not his soldiers refused to follow him.'"

  "Okay," Clarence said. "Fine. Who can argue with Surreptitious.”

  “Suetonius,” Edgar said.

  “So Julius and Cleo were hooking up before Tony got to Egypt. And now I suppose all this means that this Caesar thing has something to do with our artifact and the murders?” He tugged on his bowtie.

  “It has to be connected,” I said. “That's just too many coincidences to be, well... a coincidence. Especially when it’s all that we can find in common."

  Edgar smiled. "So is the consensus that we suspect the mayors were killed for trying to usurp too much power like Brutus thought Caesar was doing?"

  I couldn't think of anything else. "Could be. Must be."

  Clarence rolled his eyes. "So maybe that's what the artifact does... causes the mayor to abuse the power of the office. And the friend or friends get outraged all out of proportion and stab away.”

  “Seems right.”

  “So maybe we can deliberately get the ball rolling."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Maybe the late mayors each did one of those things and that triggers the artifact and it pushes them further. You need to usurp power—be like they were."

  "I’m at a loss to know what to do, Clarence. There isn't time for me to have a military career and I'm not going to date the mayor of a neighboring town—I don't even know any of them.” I looked at my notes. “I have no idea how you annex anything."

  "There is an empty lot out here," Edgar said, staring out the window. "Right behind the town hall. Maybe you could borrow it?"

  “I doubt that would qualify.”

  "How about we play this Caesar flashback thing out more? Get into more detail and then be theatrical.”

  “What do you mean, Clarence?”

  “Maybe all it would take would be for you to cross the Rubicon."

  "Sure, let’s do that. I've never been to Italy. Have you got some frequent flier miles I can use? I wouldn't be gone but a week or two."

  "I understand it's fairly shallow," Edgar said.

  "I was thinking symbolically," Clarence said.

  Edgar snapped his fingers. It didn’t make a sound but we noticed. "Of course. I saw on the map that Traverse has a Rubicon Street. It runs right through the middle of town, crossing Main somewhere near here."

  “The Rubicon that traverses Traverse.” Clarence said giggling.

  "Just when you got me excited about globe trotting. I would imagine that the Italian river would have more oomph to it in terms of evoking the curse."

  Clarence smiled. "Your predecessors didn't seem to need it."

  "My predecessors predeceased me, as well. There needs to be a reasonable limit to how closely I attempt to follow in their footsteps."

  "Fair enough. Maybe we could find you a golden chair."

  "Was Julius carried across in a golden chair?"

  "That's what I'd do if I planned to be emperor. And it can just be a golden-colored chair for our purposes."

  "You are really a party pooper, Clarence. I think the mayor should be treated to a proper symbolic launch if we want the artifact to act."

  "Hey, we are the triumvirate," Edgar said. "Can I be Pompey." He stuck his tongue out at Clarence. "That makes you Cassius, with the lean and hungry look."

  "It wasn't Cassius in the triumvirate," Clarence said. "It was Marcus Licinius Crassus."

  I realized he was right and I began to wonder how we all seemed to know all this detailed stuff about ancient Rome. I’d majored in history, but a lot of the detail came from somewhere else than my memory. I’d been more interested in Greece. "I want real gold in my chair," I said. "If I'm going to lead a legion into Rome, or even Traverse it should be a golden chair."

  "There will be no gold chair and no legion,” Clarence said. “We just need to symbolically recreate a bunch of these things to see if we can't nudge our neighborhood artifact into showing itself. Then we pop it in a box and Bob's your uncle."

  Edgar coughed. "The man's name was Mason, Clarence. As long as you worked for him, I'd think you'd remember."

  Clarence turned and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he snorted. "Grab the map. I think we better get started toward the Rubicon."

  “Are you still speaking symbolically, or do we take the carriage?” Edgar asked.

  “We walk, Edgar.”

  “How un-imperial,” he said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "How will we know it's working?" I asked as I strolled across the Rubicon, first looking both ways for oncoming traffic and then imagining myself at the head of an army.

  Clarence and Edgar walked along on either side of me. "I suppose that first we will have to go back to the office.”

  “Why?”

  “It isn’t enough that we do this provocative act. We need to both be in the mayor’s office. Caesar wasn’t but all these victims were, and since we think the dagger is in the mayor's office..."

  "My office," I said, without thinking.

  "Right. Since we think that's where it is, I assume we won't really know anything until we go back there."

  "So should we go back now? Test the waters?"

  "I suppose we could."

  "And if nothing happens?"

  "Then, I guess we think of more things that Caesar did and try them out."

  “Symbolically, of course,” Edgar said.

  “Shouldn’t he be in his pen box?”

  “He’s an important part of my retinue.” Once we'd crossed the street I turned and looked back. "I guess my legion couldn't make it today."

  "I wonder if we should have used a boat?" Clarence asked.

  Edgar shook his head. "Caesar didn't. I told you, the river is shallow. My guess would be he crossed on horseback if you want to be authentic."

  "Well, what now? Do I get my gold chair for the parade to my new palace, also known as the town hall?"

  Clarence looked unhappy. "For that to work, we'd need to find some people willing to haul you around on it. The people in this town that we've met don't seem to have good enough imaginations to make it seem likely."

  "Besides, you'd need them to be slaves," Edgar said. "For any semblance of authenticity, I mean."

  "Again, do I need to point out that the previous mayors probably didn't have slaves,” I said. “However, it's likely they crossed this street at some time or another and whether or not they did that, whether or not that had anything to do with it, the artifact did its work."

  Clarence stopped in front of a dry goods store. "Wait here a moment," he said. Then he dashed in. Edgar and I looked at each other.

  "Have you seen Bel around?" I asked. "Or sensed him,
or even that power or energy that you felt around him?"

  "None of the above," he said. "Why? Are you expecting him?"

  "It wouldn’t surprise me. If we are looking for the same thing, it seems logical that he won’t be far away. It’s more of a surprise that we haven’t seen him, and it bothers me that I have no idea what he's up to. I can’t help but wonder if he is spying on us."

  "Maybe he has better, more productive, things to do."

  “That’s not a comforting thought either.”

  Clarence emerged with a purple sash. "This should help set the stage," he said. He put it over my neck. "I bought the fabric and the nice lady stitched it for me. For you." Then he stepped back to admire it. "It looks properly regal," he said, glancing at Edgar.

  The ghost nodded. "It's perfect. Now let's go see if all this silly stuff we've done has put anything into motion."

  "As we walked along the streets, I let my eyes roam over the buildings. I was taking in the town, my town, my new domain. It was pretty nice if I did say so myself, but I could see there was a lot more that could be done with this place. If a leader, say a new mayor, were to take it firmly in hand and show the way, it could be downright picturesque. The businesses needed to spruce up their storefronts and get better displays. And the town needed to sponsor some events that would attract visitors to the town—new money. With a little work, we should be able to fill the hotel and motel with tourists and that would encourage the chains to build new ones. The upside of that was that we, the town, would collect the lodger's tax on every room night, giving us the money needed for even more civic improvements.

  Yes, I could see potential lying dormant in those empty businesses—a lot of potential. After all, I had a degree in history and knew what other places had done well and poorly. This was my chance to put my knowledge to good use. There were some historical social and economic models that might be sensibly and profitably put into action to put Traverse on the map.

  When we got back to the mayor's office, I settled into my plush chair and looked at Clarence, focusing my attention back on the other problem that needed handling—extending my life span. "Are you feeling anything like a murderous rage yet?"