The Pearl Dagger

by L. A. Chandlar

  They decided that she and Eric would follow the crew to the luncheon since they’d been invited, and they let their team depart after giving them the second half of their first official paid job.

  The crew dissipated just as the large crowds were slowly walking away. As she and Eric walked uptown a couple of blocks, they quietly talked about the ceremony. Eric knew a lot about the traditions, as if he’d studied up on it. It made her think that maybe they both had a future with the police force.

  The masses were melting into the next part of their day, to go to work, to tend to children, to mourn the loss of a son. Morgan and Eric came up to the corner and waited for the light to cross the street. Up ahead, a flash of a bright red hat caught Morgan’s eye and it made her take a closer look. Beneath the bright red, a mass of white-blond hair was pinned into an updo. She instinctively grabbed Eric’s arm, startling him because she’d never grabbed his arm before.

  “What?” he asked urgently.

  “There! Can you see? I spotted a bright red hat and the woman has white-blond hair, over by that man carrying the large lamp into the hotel. I think it’s Daphne, I’d know that cocky walk of hers anywhere.”

  He stood on tiptoe to see over the crowds. “Got her! C’mon!”

  They raced up the street toward a woman walking fast, her stylish black coat a striking contrast to her light hair and racy red hat. She crossed the avenue at the last second, making Morgan and Eric halt in their tracks as the speeding cars careened by. At that corner, Daphne turned her head, looking uptown as if making up her mind about something. The dashing hat was pulled low over one eye and her lips were a slash of garnet red over her pale face. She was a study in contrasts. She made the decision to walk briskly north again and went to the edge of the curb in anticipation of crossing.

  Morgan and Eric raced across the avenue in pursuit. Daphne spotted them and grinned, her white teeth a bright contrast to those dark red lips. She quickly scanned the busy street and darted across. Morgan heard Eric grunt in aggravation. When they reached the corner, the light turned and they, too, ran across the street.

  They spotted that bright hat turn and go down the steps into the subway. They quickly clattered down the stairs and even in her dressy outfit, Morgan was able to easily hop the turnstile.

  Right when they got to the platform, the doors of the subway car slammed shut and the train started to crawl into motion.

  Smack!

  Right in front of Morgan stood Daphne, her hand splayed across the glass and with a malicious smile, making Morgan want to strike her.

  “Look!” cried Eric as they were walking along with the car, trying to keep up with it for a few seconds.

  Just under Daphne’s palm, written in red lipstick on a menu, were the words, “See you soon.”

  Morgan stopped and felt a bit nauseous. After a few moments of silence, Eric casually rested his elbow on Morgan’s shoulder and said, “Well, isn’t she lovely.”

  Morgan snorted and Eric allowed one side of his mouth to pull up the slightest bit. He’d aimed to lighten her mood. But damn, Daphne was creepy. The scrawled bloodred letters that held the portent of seeing her again filled Morgan with an icy sense of foreboding.

  CHAPTER 46

  After the funeral, we all headed to the memorial luncheon for the close friends and family. It was a relief to have the ceremony finished. Both emotionally and mentally, it had been a strain on us all. Not only were we mourning our dear friend, but we were anxious about the ceremony going smoothly. On top of it all, we had the profound concern of preventing another cop killing.

  I found Roxy and Valerie along the way and we all clasped arms. We needed that touch, that physical reminder of friendship and love. No words could be said to articulate our feelings and that need, but being sandwiched between Val and Roxy, walking together, was enough.

  Just then, I caught the scent of a perfume that I hadn’t smelled in a long, long time. What was it? It was at the tip of my memories, tantalizing and teasing. It was an overly sweet perfume mixed with an herbal overtone that I’d never have picked for myself. It was from a long time ago, when I was a kid . . . I could feel the memories trying to surface, like a momentarily forgotten word that you almost have. Let’s see . . . I was at a doctor’s office, there was a syringe, and I was afraid. I definitely associated fear with that smell. And the thought of the shot had sent a prickle of sweat and panic right through me.

  I couldn’t figure it out, then the light turned green and we all crossed the street, abruptly bringing an end to the memory.

  “Ooh, look at that fabulous hat! You’d look amazing in that hat, Lane,” said Roxy. Just a couple of people ahead of me was a beautiful bright red hat with a wide brim and I could tell from the angle in the back that it was pulled far down across one eye.

  “I love the black trim,” I said. “And I have just the lipstick I’d wear with it, too.”

  Valerie snickered and said, “But she only has black shoes on, you’d certainly wear red shoes.”

  “Definitely.”

  At the luncheon we gathered with all of our closest friends, new and old. Sam and Florence were talking with Kirkland and Aunt Evelyn, Roarke was standing with Finn over by the bar, and in the back corner I heard the unmistakable bellowing and screeching that was my boss conversing with a group. It was no wonder that storm superlatives were used for him. I walked over to the little maelstrom.

  “Fio, great speech,” I said, patting him on the back. “It was perfect and very heartfelt.”

  “Ah, thank you, my dear,” he said in a much softer voice. “That means a lot. It certainly was a tough one. They all are, but this one . . .”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Something caught Fio’s eye and I turned in that direction. Morgan and Eric had arrived and were making a beeline straight for us.

  “Uh-oh,” uttered Fio.

  “Yeah, Eric looks like he’s on a mission,” I said.

  “And Morgan looks incensed,” said Fio.

  “Yep. Hi, guys! You okay? You look like something’s up,” I said.

  “We saw Daphne,” blurted Morgan.

  “What?” bellowed Fio.

  Luckily the place was already loud with people finally able to talk and enjoy togetherness after the solemn ceremony. I put a calming hand on Fio’s arm and Eric shot an exasperated look at Morgan for her outburst.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “It’s okay, she’s not here and we didn’t see her at the ceremony.”

  Eric took up the story. “We spotted her in the crowds after the services had ended and we followed her. She caught sight of us in pursuit and ducked into the subway. By the time we got there, the doors shut. She wrote a note in red lipstick and smacked it up against the glass for us to read.” He’d looked a bit pale when they came in, but at this point he looked positively sick.

  “What did it say?” I asked.

  Morgan gulped, then said, “See you soon.”

  “Oh boy,” said Fio.

  “Um, Eric, you’re eighteen, right?”

  “Yeah, why?” he asked.

  “Come on, I’m getting you a beer. Let’s go.” I ushered them to the bar and got them a beer.

  Finn saw us and came over. He looked at Eric’s white face and then at me and Morgan as we both took pretty big swigs of our beer. “Uh-oh. What happened now?”

  In spite of ourselves, Morgan and I shared a grimace, then chuckled. Eric rolled his eyes and filled in Finn.

  Eric was almost Finn’s height and he was wearing a dark brown suit. It was the most dressed up I’d ever seen him. He cleaned up nice. Finn had on his dress blues like the rest of the force. Most of the time he wore plain clothes. My eyes hungrily ran over the dark blue, starched shoulders and the bright white shirt and black tie. He had his hat under his arm.

  “Here, Lane, you’re drooling,” said Roxy, handing me a hanky.

  “Thanks!” I sputtered, laughing at myself. “Hey, where did Val go?”

  “I’
m not sure,” said Roxy. “Say, have you noticed that she’s still not quite herself lately? I mean, she’s good, she’s happy. I thought after you got back from London, she’d get back to normal. But she’s not around as much and sometimes just disappears like this.”

  She’d verbalized exactly what I’d been feeling lately. I wasn’t extremely worried, because she seemed so happy. But it dawned on me that it had been ages since we had a regular lunch where we talked more deeply about life other than the time when I’d returned home.

  “I’d wondered if she’d met someone while I was gone. Has she said anything about a boyfriend to you?”

  “No,” said Roxy. “But I have caught her looking dreamy once in a while and writing little notes that she quickly covers with her hand when I come to her desk. So I do think she’s got something going on. I wonder why she didn’t tell us,” she said, fiddling with the crystal button at the bottom of her pretty navy cardigan.

  “Well . . . she and Pete hadn’t been an item for a while, but so close to his death, maybe she feels awkward about it. I don’t know.”

  We both refreshed our drinks and headed over to say hello to Roarke.

  “Hi, girls!” he greeted.

  “Hi! Oh hey, I have to fill you in on something,” I said, and told them about Morgan seeing Daphne and her rather horrifying note.

  “Eeiuw. She is creepy,” said Roxy.

  I looked at Roarke and he looked equal parts horrified and thoughtful. “What’s on your mind?” I asked.

  He took a drink of his wine and mouthed a few words to himself like he was trying out an idea. “Hmm,” he ruminated. “It’s winter, I should check that out, yes, I should . . .”

  Roxy and I exchanged dubious glances. Roarke pierced me with a look that said he had a sudden brainstorm. “Feel like a late lunch, Lane?”

  “Ooh, you’re going sleuthing, aren’t you?” I purred, liking the idea of sleuthing with Roarke.

  “What was that?” inquired Finn, having materialized out of thin air.

  Roxy was loudly snickering, not helping at all.

  “I have a contact who works at the restaurant at the bottom of Rockefeller Center, you know, where they have that skating rink they’re trying out this year. He says he might have new information for me,” said Roarke. “He’s seen who I think is Murk and maybe even Wulf come into the restaurant.”

  In a lower voice and moving in a bit, I said, “You know, Roarke, we’ve been looking for ties between Murk and Wulf with Crusher, who is a much more influential gangster. If he is actually working with them, it would tell us just how big this thing really is.”

  “We have eyes on them,” said Finn. “But we can’t get too close because they all know us in the force and can see us coming a mile away. You think you can find out more information, Roarke?”

  “I can certainly try. It’d be easier if I had a lunch date,” said Roarke.

  “I have to stay here with the family,” said Finn. Honestly. Sometimes he was so cute.

  Roxy patted Finn on the arm and said, “He didn’t mean you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know,” he said ruefully.

  CHAPTER 47

  Roarke and I watched the skaters whisking by through the glass. Their colorful coats were a bright contrast against the white ice, the light gray sky, and the muted beige of the buildings surrounding the area. This was right in the area where the huge Christmas tree stood twinkling, reminding us all of hope, goodwill, and cheer. The Rockefellers were trying out the ice skating to see if it was a good tourist draw. Looked like it would be a success to me.

  The restaurant smelled of steak, cocktails, and money. It was full of mostly businessmen, just a few women dotted here and there. It made me remember how so many places were still closed to women, which was one of the reasons I frequented a favorite lounge on the Upper East Side, Ophelia’s. It used to be only for women and offered a three-sixty view of the city from its gorgeous Art Deco rooftop. Last year it began to include men, as well. I made a mental note to take Finn there.

  We only ordered a cup of soup, garnering a dirty look from the waiter, but Roarke and I were personally footing the bill. That was all we could afford. We did manage to order one glass of the cheapest wine we could find, with two glasses to share. We looked around, getting a feel for the crowd. I noticed a couple of policemen still in dress blues who must’ve attended the services, too.

  “What are you thinking about, Lane? You look like something’s on your mind,” said Roarke.

  My fingers made figure eights on the brocade tablecloth as I thought about it. “Well, it’s odd. Earlier I caught a scent in the crowd, a perfume that brought back very particular memories. It’s right there at the tip of my mind, but I can’t quite get it. I can’t help it, I keep going back to it. Anyway, do you spot your contact?”

  “I did see him, actually. In fact, he just filled a drink order from a waiter. He’s a bartender here. Be right back.” Roarke got up from the table and went to talk with the guy discreetly. A bartender was an excellent contact. They had a perfect setup to overhear discussions while looking innocuous. They were almost as good as barbers.

  I continued to peruse the customers as I took a sip of my wine. We had a lot of moving parts to this mystery. With my trip to England, it made it that much more complicated. I felt a lot of peace that Finn was at last able to face the ghosts of his past, finding justice and vindication. But there was something there. There was a piece to the puzzle that tied together these moving, elusive parts. Daphne and the Red Scroll. The pearl dagger. The pinball murder.

  I made a mental list. What were the other pieces that were floating around? Daphne alone had a lot going on. She went to England and made it known to us and to the remnants left there that she was in charge now. She went to Peter’s funeral. She told Morgan she’d see her again soon.

  Let’s see. I took a sip of Roarke’s wine. Hmm. We had the beginnings of the pinball racket with Punchy and Crusher, way back when I was hiding out on the ledge at Grand Central with Roarke. We had the weasly, greasy Murk, who had been at the precinct when Fio held court. He turned out to be more conniving than I’d thought he was capable of being and was the owner of the deli where Pete had been shot. We also had the derby-hatted mean guy, Mr. Wulf, whom Fio called an S of a B when he ransacked the relief station.

  “Hey! Where’d my wine go?” said Roarke as he sat down at the table.

  “Oh!” I said, looking at two empty glasses. “Maybe they didn’t bring it yet.”

  “Hah!” said Roarke, exasperatedly shaking out his napkin, getting ready for his sumptuous cup of soup. “That’s okay. My guy is bringing us a couple on the house,” he said with a grin.

  “That’s my favorite sleuthing partner. So what did he say?” I asked.

  “He said they’ve all been in a lot lately. In fact, he says they’re on the register for today. That’s why he’ll bring over some extra drinks and coffees, so we can stay longer,” he said, nodding to his guy to bring a drink now.

  “Who exactly is he talking about?” I asked.

  “Well, for sure Eugene Murk, he’s pretty memorable when I described him, and he overheard him talking with who I think is Wulf, that they have a big meeting today. I’m hoping the big meeting is with Crusher.”

  “I can’t even imagine Murk in this fancy place,” I said, shaking my head.

  Then I glimpsed his form and I understood. He didn’t come in the front, he’d slithered in the back. He’d oozed over to the end seat at the bar where he could sit, and drink, and melt into the background. Listening, existing, while others engaged, planned, and made deals. He’d be in the corner like a dirty, enduring cockroach waiting underneath the stove.

  “Oh, I get it,” I whispered meaningfully. “Don’t turn around yet, Murk’s at the bar. Your contact is giving him a drink. He came in the back. What did you tell your contact to do or say?”

  Roarke, unlike most people who would have immediately looked when you told them
not to, did not move a muscle in that direction. In fact, he leaned closer and smiled at me as if he were entranced by our conversation, creating the image that he was oblivious to everything else around him. Damn, he’s good. No wonder I enjoyed our sleuthing so much.

  “I just told him to be a good listener. Which he is. I noticed he asks good questions and takes it all in. That’s how I got him to be my contact. Of course, I do pay well,” he said, shaking his glass as if to demonstrate.

  I raised an eyebrow. “How exactly do you pay people, Roarke?”

  “Oh, I don’t have that much money, but I know a lot of people. So usually I can figure out some kind of barter. Like putting them in contact with someone to help with a housing need, or a lead on a job, that sort of thing.”

  “Huh,” I said, finally having a few questions answered about him. I looked at his great haircut, his dark brown suit with the pencil-thin pinstripes, and his deep brownish black tie. “That’s how you have such fabulous clothes, isn’t it? You made a deal with a tailor or something.”

  Roarke gave me a wolfish grin and said, “A good reporter never reveals his sources,” then tilted his head back for the final swig of good wine.

  “Hey, something’s happening over there. Did someone just leave the bar area?” I asked, tipping my head to the side toward Murk. I swear I saw someone leaving quickly out the back.

  Murk was clearly agitated with jerky movements as he spoke urgently to the bartender, Roarke’s buddy. The bartender was good; although he was getting nervous, with a sheen of sweat marking his brow, he didn’t look over at us, breaking his cover. I kept my body language aimed at Roarke, but shifted my eyes to the bar as often as I could.

  My view was abruptly obscured by a large, matronly woman who’d arrived at our table.

  “Mary?” I asked. “What are you doing here? Did you and Morgan follow us?”