The Pearl Dagger

by L. A. Chandlar

  CHAPTER 22

  “I don’t know half?” I exclaimed to Finn as we bumped and jostled our way across the country roads a few towns over.

  Finn had no answer, so he just put his arm out and drew me to him, across the seat. “Come here.”

  I smiled and happily laid my head on his shoulder as we drove. I put on my sunglasses and enjoyed the early evening, that special golden time before twilight, at the threshold of goodness. The hills turned amber as the sun set, the scent of grass and juniper floating through the wind.

  Just as twilight began in earnest, we pulled into the small village. Sure enough, it was the only pub in town. We parked a bit down the road and made our plan. John assured us of the safety of the place and the fact that there were plenty of women about because of the live music that was in abundance, so we decided I’d go in first.

  I sat at the back corner table, alone. Enjoying the firelight, the cheerful din of an evening of laughing and drinking with friends. My dark beer was warm, which I had grown accustomed to although I still preferred a cold brew. The richness of the smooth taste mingled with the shadowy but enjoyable atmosphere. I finally spotted my contact from John, sitting at the bar contemplating life. He was hard to miss: at least six foot four with a bright shock of flaming red hair and beard.

  I went over and joined him at the bar as he softly set his elbows down. His appearance was loud, but his demeanor was soft. As I took a stool, I said, “So you’re the famous Alistair Huxbury who helped my parents.”

  He quickly turned to me, studying my face. I smiled and said to the barkeep, “He’ll have what I’m having.” Alistair chuffed a whispery, scratchy sort of laugh.

  “Well, you must be Lane, the daughter of Charlotte Lorian beyond a doubt. Eh, lass?”

  I raised my glass and an eyebrow. “Indeed. Slainte, Alistair.” We clinked our glasses and each took a long draught.

  “So you’ve been to see John, yes?” he asked.

  “Yes, and I got to see the painting of the lotus.” He was a deliberate, cautious sort of man. He was as solid as an oak tree, and the look on his face made me feel that his mind was just as immovable. There was no cajoling or manipulating this man. He’d speak when he was good and ready. And only if he was good and ready.

  He turned to his pint, looking into the glass intently, gathering his thoughts. I stayed silent and let him ponder. I gestured to the barkeep to refill us both. Alistair at last drained his glass and set it down with a deliberate clunk. When he turned to me, his eyes held something both wonderful and terrible.

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever he was about to say. He said in an awed tone, “They saved my life, Lane.”

  “What?” I whispered.

  “Yes. I owe them everything.”

  “So you worked with them?”

  “No. No, I didn’t. Y’see, they happened to come across me when I was not at my best, to say the least. I had survived the war when none of my brothers had. I’m the only one left. All five of them, just gone. It just about killed my mother, she was so heartbroken. The Lorians were here in my village and a group of robbers had set upon me when I was drunk. They’d beaten me bloody well. Your folks showed up, guns blazing, eyes like fire. The ruffians ran away. Then I passed out. The next morning, I found myself in their care, a cold cloth on my head, bandaged up. Sore all over. A complete mess. But they’d taken care of me, gotten me to a little house and over the next couple of days helped me to heal.”

  It was always touching to find out something new and tender or interesting about someone. I loved finding out aspects of people that might be hidden, or difficult to see. Finding it out about my own parents was incredibly moving.

  “Your parents didn’t know me from Adam. But they still cared. We got to know each other and they told me about their move to a place called Rochester. And I agreed to help them return that flower painting to John. I was a stranger, and perhaps that’s what helped them confide in me. I always hoped you’d find me, Lane.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “They didn’t tell me about what they were doing exactly, although I figured it must be some sort of government work. But they did say that they’d made some wrong choices, trying to do the best overall. But they’d let themselves . . . oh, how did they say it?” He brought a big, beefy hand to his chin as he thought about their exact wording. “Yes, they said they’d made a bad choice. No, that’s not it. A dark choice, yes. I thought that was a strange turn of phrase. But they said that the lotus flower in that painting meant new beginnings. It meant purity and enlightenment. Rebirth, even. To them it was a sign that they could make a new beginning. That’s why returning this piece was so important to them.”

  I let all that sink in. They were just like me. Human, capable of choosing darkness. Yet realizing it and making a change. Choosing light in the end. No wonder they liked the lotus flower. But all that was wonderful. There was still something terrible behind Alistair’s eyes.

  Just then, a band of energetic older gentlemen got up to play, their flutes in hand, a fiddle and drums. They began to warm up and I turned to Alistair. He’d backed off down the bar, a bleak look had come over his face, and he scowled with some kind of inner turmoil. I decided to let him think, so I stayed put as I watched the band tune up.

  Then the song began. It was like a switch had been turned on. The atmosphere was at once electric. Their music had a way of lifting the soul, making all of us patrons look around, wondering if we all felt the same. We did.

  They began a boisterous and yet genteel song that required dancing. Oh yes, with the strains of that music one had to dance. I was by myself, but with the energy of the place, that didn’t seem to be a problem. It was assumed that everyone must dance, stranger or not. Big, burly men swept the little tables dotted about the place to the edges of the room.

  The pipes, the drums, the fiddle . . . all of them came together and suddenly the room seemed to know just what to do. I finished off my beer in a big gulp and set down my glass just as I was swept up in a big reel. I decided that the only way to not get a foot trod upon or run into someone was to jump in as vigorously as everyone else, hoping my enthusiasm would overcome any missteps.

  I was turned round and round. It was so fun, so full of magic in an unexpected way. Which is the best kind.

  And then I saw him.

  He stepped in the dark doorway and I caught his eyes, with a gleam in them that greeted me and made my heart flutter with anticipation.

  I turned and swirled to the violin, with every turn keeping my eye on his form. He slowly made his way over to the dancers. Even through my spins and jumps and friendly embraces that the dance required, I could feel his eyes watching me, my eyes always catching his.

  He joined the dance.

  I turned this way, he turned that way. The women were lifted in a big twirl and placed down in a different spot. I was six feet closer to him now. We swept past each other in a turn and my shoulder brushed his, sending shocks down my spine. I barely saw the eyes of my many partners. My hair fell past my eyes and I looked over at him, with a small lift to the corner of my mouth.

  CHAPTER 23

  He saw her just as he entered the doorway. He watched her being lifted and spun about with the energy of the music, the violin and the pipes making every soul in that room feel a need to dance. He needed to be with her. And here they were, wonderfully separated from the worry of his family, the curse, and the feeling that he was in over his head. He couldn’t shake the anxiety that he’d pull Lane in the muck and mire with him. Here he felt free.

  The reel was like one he learned as a young boy, his limbs knowing what to do instinctively. He lifted his partner up and turned her about, setting her down in a different place.

  Six feet closer to Lane.

  Her shoulder brushed past his, sending out a flame of desire through his body. Her hair fell down past her gorgeous eyes as she turned her face to him and he saw in her the same longing.
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  He willed the song not to end; they would be partners soon. One more lift, turn, set the gal down, and . . .

  “Finn,” she breathed.

  He smiled his greeting; her body was close, he felt her familiar form against his own. Her hand clasped his; they turned in time to the music, clapped three times, joined again and made their way around the circle with the music, hands clasped. Turn, her body closer, pressing up against him for a quick moment of unspoken desire and closeness. Then she was spun to another partner.

  Three more spins, the song picked up rhythm and the clapping grew with fervor, the speed of the song almost too much for all of them. Big smiles launched all around in the great romp. Take the other girl’s hand, keep Lane’s eye, spin, clap clap clap, pick the girl up, set her down. Lane’s hair swirled out with the motion of the energetic spin, her face shining toward him with a smile, her eyes flashing.

  Faster tempo, the pipes and violin playing louder, the drummer playing with all his heart. This song was the best damn thing he ever heard. Faster. With a whoosh she was suddenly in his arms again.

  “Hi, love,” he breathed. Her secret smile. Just for him.

  The song was almost at its end. He took her by the waist, hoisting her up in the air, spun her, and down. His arm around the front of her waist, hers around his, the many partners spinning around the room like various cogs in a clock. Their eyes never separating. Pipes, drums, violin, faster. One last hoist in the air, feeling her body against his as he lifted, spun her, and down in a great last whoosh of sound and spent energy. Everyone loudly applauded and cheered the great dance.

  He and Lane stood amidst the small throng of merrymakers facing each other. Inches apart. The distance between them like a physical barrier almost visible to the eye, both breathing heavily from the rigorous dance. Her mysterious smile, and then, finally breaking the spell, she turned her head in the other direction, her hair softly fanning out and cascading down her shoulders. Walking away. One last look, and a slight gesture to tell him to wait just another minute.

  She walked over to the large gentleman at the end of the bar, a scowl worthy of Fiorello plastered to his face, the fire in the fireplace shining off his red hair and beard. That must be the contact, Alistair.

  CHAPTER 24

  That was the best dance of my life. Except for a particular time that Finn and I danced in Little Italy, of course. I walked back to Alistair, still glowering into his glass. I asked for a water from the barkeep and guzzled it down.

  “All right, Alistair. Why are you still scowling?” I asked. Enough is enough.

  He growled, then said, “I just . . . I just wonder, Lane . . . was it something I did that led to them getting killed?”

  I gasped, “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head as he said, “Helping me and then returning that painting. It was the last effort they did professionally before your parents were killed.”

  Just then, I felt Finn come up next to me. “Alistair, this is Finn Brodie, New York Police Department detective.” They shook hands.

  “Yeah, you look like police,” Alistair said.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  I brought Finn up to speed. He said, “Do you really think something about all this gave it away about Matthew and Charlotte’s whereabouts?”

  Alistair gave a giant shrug. “I don’t know. I just know I owed them my life. And I’ve carried this worry around for years that maybe it was my fault somehow. But tell me, did they ever show you the dagger I gave them?”

  “Your dagger?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah. My family had it for years. I wanted to give them something. Something that was special to me.”

  “This one?” I said with a smirk and a flourish as I pulled out the dagger from my purse.

  “Mother o’ God,” he murmured. He took the dagger into his powerful hands. He turned it over and over. “My mum told me it was special. It’s both black and white. Dangerous and beautiful. It made me think that Matthew would love it because of those qualities.”

  “He did,” I said. “He always loved it. It meant a lot to him. Thank you for all you’ve done, you helped them more than you know. I came to you because I needed to know if they’d been on the right side, if they were the good guys. Or not. You helped them make a new start and make amends with a family they had harmed. And I can tell you right now, John will be inspiring generations of people. Maybe your efforts and my parents were part of that. Whatever happened to reveal where they were and whatever led up to them being killed, you had no intentional part in it. That’s what matters. It’s time to let go, Alistair.”

  He looked deeply into my eyes. Searching. Then a slow, earnest smile spread across his face.

  “Besides,” I said. “They’re starting up another dance! Come on!” I grabbed him by the wrist as I heard Finn’s appreciative chuckle. I can tell you right now, dancing a reel with Alistair was very similar to dancing with Big Sam. I felt and looked like a rag doll.

  What seemed like hours later, Finn and I found ourselves back up at the bar and Alistair had taken over for the other barkeep. His jovial nature knew no bounds as he bought several rounds for the place. Next to Finn sat the previous barkeep, Joseph.

  Finn said to him, “You know, Joey, it looks as if Alistair is having a fine time!”

  Joseph laughed, his thin black mustache curving into a second smile over his lips. “I haven’t seen him like this in ages. Did you know our Alistair was quite the hero?”

  “Really? What did he do? In the war, you mean?” I asked.

  Joseph shook his head. “No. He did his bit in the war, o’ course. But right after, I don’t know if he told you, but he dove into the drink. He lost all his brothers and it hurt him something fierce. But after he’d hit bottom, he bought this place and turned himself around.

  “One night, he up and decided to use the money his brothers and he had saved for many years. He set up a fund for youngsters in the town. To go to university, or in some cases, get some medical attention that was too costly for the family. Gestures like that ripple out and it completely changed the town. After so much loss, there was a little bit of hope. Like I said: hero.”

  Finn and I shared a knowing look. But before I could say anything, Joseph interrupted my thoughts. “Hey, have you ever heard the Latin term pulchritudo—”

  “Ex cinere,” Finn and I simultaneously supplied.

  Joseph grinned. “Beauty out of ashes. It was a saying our town adopted after the war. And let me tell ya, Alistair is living proof of it.”

  * * *

  We stayed the night in a room above the pub, having had far too many pints to drive back safely. I woke up with an aching head and a full heart. We made our way back to London, the drive allowing us the time to talk out everything. We’d learned a lot.

  “So now we know about the pearl dagger’s background,” said Finn.

  “I never knew where my dad had gotten it. I just knew he dearly loved it. And he definitely showed me how to use it,” I said.

  “Oh, he did do that,” said Finn with a smirk and wide eyes.

  “Shut up, Finn,” I chuckled.

  “Oh, I quite like that talent of yours,” he said, eyes simmering as he turned to me.

  “Keep your eyes on the road,” I teased. Then I contemplated, “So, we finally know what my parents were doing. They did in fact infiltrate the Red Scroll crew. And what a scheme! I thought they were just a gang of thieves, but that group had a perfect way to con people and make it as easy on themselves as possible. It’s horrible, but it’s brilliant, too.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “People can be easily swayed by a nice face and seemingly kind and professional demeanors. The best con artists don’t look like con artists. Plus, everyone is eager to find treasure under their own roofs.” I nodded.

  “You know . . . Alistair might have been right, I hate to say. Something about this final effort might have led Rex straight to Rochester. Something did. Someone had to have let
the cat out of the bag on where they’d relocated,” I said.

  “Yeah. I know. I hope he can truly let it go, though.”

  “Me, too. He deserves to move on,” I said. “All right. So, now we have those bases covered. All we have left for our visit here is to find out if there is still no sign of Daphne. And then deal with your . . . family,” I said with a nose-crinkled grimace.

  Finn laughed. “Yeah. I’m just as excited as you are.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Fair is foul and foul is fair.

  —the three witches, Macbeth

  We walked in the door to the beautiful lobby of the hotel bearing the same name as our favorite dance place in New York: the Savoy. We headed toward the bar for a glass of wine before dinner. Just as we ordered, two hysterical women approached. Oh no.

  The two friends of Gwen, Eunice and Agnes, once again wore vaguely matching outfits. This time it was a sickly brown. They flapped and squealed as they came to our little table.

  “Finn! You’re in trouble,” said the one on the right.

  “What?” he exclaimed irritably.

  “They are convinced that you’re the culprit who poisoned your father,” said the other one. I couldn’t remember which was which. But I certainly recalled the third one.

  “Finn,” said a cold voice. She’d silently crept over to us.

  “Hello, Gwen. What’s this about?”

  “Look, I’ve tried defending you. But this has gone too far. I’ve covered up for you in the past, but I can’t do it any longer.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve never had to cover for me.” The two weird friends huffed an indignant sound as if they knew Finn was lying. Finn and I exchanged a look. The fine lines around his mouth and the strain around his eyes showed the stress he was under. I put my hand on his knee, right next to me under the table, willing him to feel my support.

  “I came to warn you. Sean wants to meet. Tomorrow, seven in the evening at your family home. But don’t be surprised if he goes to the authorities.”