Deadly Curiosities

by Gail Z. Martin

  Regret and loss weighed on me. Sadness – and fear, of the empty hours, of the long nights, and of what bleak future lay in store.

  And in this vision, I saw the clocks.

  “– so I go there and find the gate locked,” I heard Chuck conclude. If Teag had noticed that I spaced out, he didn’t show it, and Chuck seemed so intent on convincing Teag of his position that he wasn’t paying any attention to me.

  “I can certainly understand why that would have been upsetting,” Teag replied.

  “Is your unit filled with more clocks?” I asked.

  Chuck seemed to suddenly remember that I was there, and his eyes narrowed. “Not sure it’s anybody’s business what’s in there,” he snapped.

  I gave my best disarming smile. “I’m not trying to pry. It might help us with the insurance people if we could show that whatever you have in storage isn’t harmful in any way.”

  Chuck frowned. “Harmful? No. Not of much interest to anybody except me, I suppose. And you’re right, little lady. I’ve got clocks. Lots of them.”

  “You have a beautiful collection,” I said, and Chuck seemed to soften a bit at the praise. I was about to say something else, but one of the cuckoo clocks began to strike the hour, fifteen minutes early.

  “Mr. Pettis –” I began, only to be silenced by the shrill ring of a large Baby Ben alarm clock. I jumped at the sudden racket. Before I could gather my wits, one clock after another went off, each striking a different hour. To my astonishment, Chuck Pettis jumped to his feet with a wild expression on his face.

  He ran to each clock in the order they had struck the hour, and wound them with an urgency as if his life depended on it. For the pendulum clocks, he withdrew a huge ring of winding keys from a clip on his belt and selected just the right one for each to keep them going.

  Teag and I exchanged baffled expressions, assaulted by the cacophony of bells and chimes. Suddenly, the house was silent once more. As if nothing unusual had happened, Chuck returned to his worn recliner and settled into his seat.

  “You were saying?” He asked.

  There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want this wary man to shut down and kick us out. “That’s quite a performance your clocks put on,” I said.

  The ghost of a smile touched the corner of Chuck’s thin lips. “Isn’t it? Like a choir, each one with its own voice.” There was a wistfulness in his voice I hadn’t expected, as if the clocks had become stand-ins for the companions who had deserted him.

  I had the sense there was more to the clocks than just a love of punctuality, more than a collector’s fondness for precision mechanisms. “You have so many beautiful clocks, and you say that what is stored at Stor-Your-Own isn’t particularly valuable. So why do you risk going in to get more? It’s in a pretty rough neighborhood.”

  Fear glinted in Chuck’s eyes. “Who told you that I’d been in there?”

  I leaned forward, hoping my sincerity came through loud and clear. “We have an eyewitness who saw you come through the fence. The last time, you lost your hat, isn’t that right?”

  “What are you going to do, turn me in to the police?” Chuck demanded, and I could see that his fear was fueling his sudden anger.

  I shook my head. “No. You’re only taking what belongs to you. But we do need your help.”

  “Oh yeah?” Chuck asked skeptically. “I knew it. You’re planning to rob the place.” He reached between the arm of the recliner and the seat cushion, and I was pretty sure he had a gun down there.

  “No! Nothing like that. We’re trying to stop whatever it is that’s causing all the problems,” I said, speaking in a rush to keep him from drawing a weapon on us. “We know about the shadows, and we also know that they weren’t always there. We want to make them go away so that you and the other tenants can go in safely to get your things. So that people stop dying.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  I felt a nudge of intuition and ran with it. “Because we were friends of Jimmy Redshoes.”

  That seemed to take the wind out of Chuck. He withdrew his hand from the seat cushion and sat back.

  His bravado was gone, and he looked suddenly older. “Ah, that was too bad, what happened to him. I was sorry to hear about it.”

  “The police think it was a drug deal gone bad,” Teag said.

  Chuck’s eyes flashed. “That’s not true!” He let out a long breath. “I knew Jimmy long ago, before he got into a peck of trouble and kinda lost himself,” he said quietly. “He was a good kid, never hurt anyone.

  Life just messed him up and he couldn’t get straightened out. Jimmy didn’t rent a unit at Stor-Your-Own.

  Didn’t have the money to pay for that. But it wasn’t the best managed place, even before it closed. Flora did what she could, but she couldn’t keep an eye on everything. Jimmy would sneak in and stash his things in one of the units no one was renting.”

  Chuck sighed. “Towards the end, there were a lot of empty units and nobody was keeping track.

  Jimmy didn’t have anywhere safe to put his things, like winter clothes when it was summer.” He raised his face and met my gaze as if challenging me to argue. “More than once, I kept Flora distracted so Jimmy could get in or out without anyone noticing.”

  “Hell’s bells, I paid a king’s ransom for my unit – overpriced garage, that’s what it was. I figured Jimmy wasn’t hurting anything. When things started to go bad, I tried to warn Jimmy. Told him I’d go in with him to help him move his things so he didn’t have to go there anymore. I even told him he could keep some things in my shed out back.”

  Chuck shook his head. “Me, I can take care of myself. I saw combat. I know how to protect myself. But Jimmy… Some men come back from soldiering stronger. Some can’t live with themselves. Others get mean. And guys like Jimmy, it’s like there’s something inside that breaks and won’t get fixed.”

  I hadn’t expected a soliloquy like that from Chuck, and it made me re-think my first impression. He was certainly a crusty guy, but something in him had loved the children and the dark-haired women I had glimpsed, even if he wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. And it was obvious that something had touched him deeply about Jimmy Redshoes, a fellow soldier who never completely came home from war.

  “I have a feeling that you know what really killed Jimmy Redshoes,” I said quietly. “And I promise you, we’ll believe you if you’ll tell us what you’ve seen.”

  Chuck looked torn, then he swore under his breath and crossed his arms across his chest like he was daring us to break our word. “Ghosts,” he said. “Haints. Spirits. Doesn’t matter what you called them.

  Something bad came in when that tall guy with the shriveled face showed up.”

  Moran. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I don’t know his name. Everything was just fine until he showed up and then it all went to hell in a handbasket. He brought the evil with him.”

  Chuck was angry. He stared at us as if he expected us to call the county mental health authority, and when we both nodded, he looked surprised.

  “What building did the guy with the shriveled face use?” I asked.

  “Building Four,” he spat. “Polluted the whole place. Mark my words – Jimmy Redshoes would still be alive if it weren’t for him.”

  If you have a storage shed, why did you keep your clocks at Stor-Your-Own?”

  Chuck uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Because the shed’s full. So’s my garage. But the clocks out there don’t work anymore.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” I said. “Why do you need so many clocks? What’s so important that you would go into such a dangerous place to get more?”

  Chuck let out a long sigh. “I have to keep them running. If they stop, I’ll die.”

  I must have looked baffled, because he went on. “The night I took my wife, Emma, to the emergency room, the night she died, there was an old woman sitting out in the hallway. She didn’t seem
to be waiting for anyone, just sitting and knitting, and staring. She told me that time was running out, and that I was going to pay for my sins when the clocks wound down.”

  “What sins?” Teag asked gently.

  Chuck looked up, and glanced toward a black and white photo on the wall. It was a picture of a much younger man wearing an army uniform from the 1990s, and I recognized Chuck.

  “I did things, in the war, that I’m not proud of,” he said. “Special Forces. Black Ops. Doesn’t matter that I was under orders. I shouldn’t have done them. Emma didn’t hold them against me, but I’m sure God will. I won’t rest easy when I’m dead, and I won’t see Emma again, I’m sure. So I don’t want to go any sooner than I have to.”

  “That’s why you have to keep getting more clocks,” I said, meeting his gaze He nodded soberly. “Wind-ups are dependable, but I can’t let them run down. Nothing runs as well as those old-fashioned Big Bens, but they’re hard to find, which is why I stockpiled them in my storage unit.

  The new ones break too quickly. And I don’t dare use electric clocks – what if the power goes out? But even the old clocks wear out after a while. Then I’ve got to get more.”

  “After the last time, I don’t want to go back,” Chuck blurted. Then he pointed to the table in the kitchen, where several clocks lay in various states of disassembly. “But I’m going to have to go soon. I lost a couple more clocks. Over the years, I got pretty handy fixing little stuff, but nothing lasts forever. I can’t fix those.”

  “If we agreed to help you get your clocks out, would you show us the best way in and out, where you saw the shriveled face man, anything else noteworthy? I have a map.” Teag asked. “We think we know how to get rid of the shadow men and the ghosts – and we can help you move your clocks somewhere safe.”

  Chuck looked wary, but I could see the struggle in his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could trust us, but we were holding out the two things he wanted the most. Finally, he nodded. “It would be better if I took you. The best paths change depending on the haints. You need me.”

  Teag and I glanced at each other. “We’re not sure it would be safe for you and don’t want to put you in danger. We’ve also got a couple more people who’re part of this,” I said. “We need to work around their schedules too – we’ll need to check with them before we can give you an answer.”

  Chuck raised an eyebrow. “I can take care of myself. You got muscle? That suits me.”

  I chuckled, thinking how Sorren might feel about being described as ‘muscle’, but decided it wasn’t an altogether off-base description, and certainly fit Mirov. “Something like that,” I said. “And we’d have to go at night.”

  I could see that Chuck didn’t like that, and I didn’t blame him. But Sorren was a vampire, and broad daylight just wasn’t a possibility. To my surprise, Chuck gave a curt nod. “Night’s best for staying out of the way of the cops over at the Navy yard. They might not admit to believing in ghosts, but they don’t like it over there after dark, either.”

  “I’ll call you a soon as I have an answer,” I said.

  “Where can I store my clocks?” Chuck asked. “I don’t have a lot of money.”

  “Let me look into a couple of options,” Teag said. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Chuck promised. “It’ll be nice having some back-up for once.”

  He walked us to the car, and I was surprised when he grabbed my arm. “I told you I was Special Forces,” Chuck said. “The Black Ops unit I was part of, they weren’t your usual crew. We de-fanged things that were alien or dark magic.” He met my gaze. “I hope you know what you’re doing, because that’s what we’re up against, at that godforsaken place.”

  I nodded. “Yes it is. And we mean to put things right.”

  We left Chuck with assurances that we would be back in touch, and he watched from his window as we drove away.

  “What’s Anthony doing tonight?” I asked.

  Teag sighed. “Preparing for his big presentation tomorrow. I hope it goes well. But either way, I’ll be glad when this trial is over and he can come up for air. We haven’t gotten to spend much down time together lately.”

  Anthony’s loss was my gain. While I was crazy about Anthony and thought he and Teag were amazing together, having Teag at a loose end because Anthony was working late had certainly made our skullduggery easier to manage.

  “Let me know when Anthony finally has some free time, and I’ll juggle the schedule around so the two of you can take a long weekend,” I said. It was only fair, given the amount of off-the-clock time Teag put into Trifles and Folly’s ‘other’ business. Sorren made sure Teag and I were paid well for the risks we took, and we both appreciated it, but money only went so far when it came to erasing the stress of being chased by ghosts and menaced by monsters. On the other hand, a few days on a sunny beach was the cure for a multitude of ills.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  WHEN I GOT home, I found yet another bundle tied in brown paper lying in the middle of my kitchen table. I recognized Sorren’s handwriting on the note: this should help put the pieces together for you.

  “Another one?” Teag asked. With Anthony working late and me not having a social life at the moment, we had picked up takeout again, along with the papers and journal Alistair had given us at the museum.

  I sighed. “Want to bet what’s inside provides a wallop of a vision?” I held my hand just above the package, sensing its supernatural strength. Dark, but maybe not an all-out spooky. If luck was with me.

  Teag held up Russ Landrieu’s journal and papers. “You know you’re going to need to take a look at these, too, once I’ve read through them.”

  I nodded, resigned to the fact that it was going to be one of those kinds of nights. “Let’s eat first, please? I deal better with the visions when I’m not hungry, and besides, the food’s getting cold.”

  I eyed the package the whole time we ate. Even from a distance, I could tell that whatever was in the box had been party to a tragedy.

  When we had finished our meals, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I took a deep breath, and then slid the package over in front of me. Teag watched, alert to help out if my vision caused trouble.

  “Do you want me to anchor you again?” He asked.

  “No, let’s try it without you or the ring and see how it goes.” I raised an eyebrow. “If I have trouble, feel free to jump in.”

  The wrapping paper gave me an insight into Sorren’s mood. Handling the brown paper and the twine, I sensed his worry. He was concerned for Teag and my safety, and justifiably uncertain about how we were going to stop Moran and his demon. While I would have liked to have read total confidence, just to shore up my own nerves, I knew Sorren’s worrying was a good thing. It would make for caution, and with luck, we could handle our demon problem without more deaths. With luck. That was the tricky part.

  I pulled the twine loops apart and peeled back the paper. Inside was a broken piece of weathered wood and several yellowed pages from a ledger. I frowned, exchanging a glance with Teag, who shrugged.

  I laid my hand on the broken wood. Immediately the comfortable surroundings of my kitchen disappeared, and I found myself onboard a wooden sailing ship in the midst of a terrifying storm at sea.

  The deck was drenched, and waves pounded the clipper as winds tore at its sails. Rough seas made the ship rise sharply and then fall out from under the feet of the men who scrambled to keep her under control against all the forces of nature.

  “Captain Harrison!” one of the sailors shouted. “We’re taking on water.”

  Captain Harrison turned from throwing a pouch into the water. He knew he wasn’t going to come home from this one. The captain was a man in his late fifties, and I recognized his face from family pictures I had seen at Gardenia Landing. The man who built Gardenia Landing, the sea captain whose fortunes waned when he did business with Jeremiah Abernathy.

  “Put all the men we can spare on the bilg
es,” Harrison ordered. “Get the rest in place to man the sails.

  With luck, we’ll make it through this.”

  Harrison eyed the sky, and I followed his gaze. Their ship, the Lady Jane, was fighting for her life, and her captain knew it. But as I followed his worried gaze skyward, what I saw troubled me far worse than even the violence of nature.

  The horizon had a greenish glow, like foxfire. Lightning streaked down from black clouds, striking the heaving surface of the sea, and some of those streaks were green as well. A miasma hung over the sea, a foul haze that stank of dark magic. Harrison saw it too, and I could see he was afraid.

  Harrison fingered an amulet that hung on a chain around his neck, and I saw that it was a medal of St.

  Nicholas of Greece, the patron saint of sailors. Harrison knew the dangers of the sea, and he looked like a man to hedge his bets.

  “Looks like the storm that took down the Cristobal,” one of the sailors said to another.

  “Not natural. Mark my words: it’s a hexed storm. We won’t see shore again,” the other replied.

  Harrison looked as if he wanted to reprove the man, but I could see he feared the sailor’s words were true.

  “I don’t like the look of the storm, sir.” It was Norris, one of his officers, a man who had served aboard one ship or another since he was just a boy. “It’s not natural.”

  Harrison shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

  Norris met Harrison’s eyes. “The cargo we picked up from the Cristobal, the pieces you delivered to Mr.

  Abernathy – d’ya think they were cursed?”

  Cursed, I thought, but not in the way Norris expected. Magic had taken the Cristobal to the bottom of the ocean, along with artifacts Jeremiah Abernathy desperately needed to control his demon. If Harrison had picked up some of that cargo and delivered it, Abernathy might have decided not to leave any loose ends, people who might have noticed what was in those waterlogged crates.

  “Aye,” Harrison replied. “Or maybe it’s divine justice for my being fool enough to do business with the likes of Abernathy. I should have known better.”