“Em, get out of there now! I’ll call the station. Somebody will be over right away. I’ll see you in a few.”
The next ten minutes were a blur. I sat in the car with Kip and Miranda, waiting. They clamored, begging me to tell them what was going on, until I couldn’t hear myself think.
“Hush!”
Sudden silence.
“We’ll talk about it once the police get here. Right now, could I please have a little peace and quiet?”
Finally, Deacon Wilson and his partner pulled into the driveway. I hadn’t seen him since Daniel’s death. “Hey, Emerald,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.
“Hey, Deacon.”
“Murray radioed ahead; she’s on her way. What happened?”
I gave him the rundown and, gun drawn, he headed into the house. By the time Murray arrived, he was back. “I checked every room and closet; the house is clear,” he said. “I tell you, though, somebody sure did a number on your home. You’ve got one hell of a cleanup job ahead of you.” We reentered the house, where they started dusting for prints.
Murray took my key and checked the shed to make sure no one was hiding there. She returned with a thumbs-up. The padlock hadn’t been jimmied. She motioned to the table. “Sit down, Em. We aren’t looking at random destruction here. Whoever did this systematically emptied every drawer in your house. All the actual damage appears to be focused on locked objects: the trunk, the etagere.”
I shook my head. “I can’t imagine what he wants. Everything I have of value is out in full sight.” Thinking of the empty etagere, I added, “Or was. And how did the thief get into the house in the first place? The front door was locked when I got home.”
“Does anybody else have a key to your house?”
“No,” I said glumly. “But this clinches it. Tomorrow, I call Safety-Tech and sign up for a home security system.”
Deacon left to file the report and to put out another APB on Jimbo. Nobody had seen him since the Roberts house had been hit; the police had assumed he had fled the area.
Now, though, it seemed likely that he was lying low, hiding out. I explained what was going on to the kids.
Miranda shuddered. “The thief went through everything we have?”
“Is it Jimbo?” Kip asked.
“We don’t know for sure, but that doesn’t matter. You and Randa need to be careful around any strangers.”
I put in a call to my insurance agent, and he said he’d be right over but to make sure I didn’t disturb anything until he got there. I sent the kids out back to play for a while so Murray and I could talk. After they left, I dropped into the recliner and rested my head on my hands. “I dunno,” I said, “I feel like I’ve been catapulted into Bad Luck Central.”
Murray nodded. “Have you done anything different lately? Are your protection charms up to date? Could another ghost be raising havoc?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t tell you this yesterday because I didn’t want the kids to hear.” I filled her in on what Mary Sanders had told me about the dragon. “We’re under a curse, and I’m really afraid of what might happen. I can’t get rid of the dragon, because it won’t stop the bad luck.”
“Let me see the statue. You’ve never really shown it to me before.”
I unwrapped the dragon and handed it to her. She held it for a moment, then abruptly gave it back. “I don’t like it. Weird energy, but I can’t pin it down. I have the feeling it’s smiling at me with a big old toothy grin, and it makes me nervous.”
“Yeah, I felt the same thing.” I put the dragon back in my purse and told her about the visions I’d had. “One was right on the money, and I’m betting that the other is, too. This doesn’t feel like a ghost, it feels … well, like chaos.”
“I think you’re right, and you’d better find an answer before it hurts you and the kids.” She guided me out to the porch. “Let’s sit on the swing. We don’t want to disturb anything before your insurance agent gets here.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea of how to go about breaking the curse.” A lump was growing in my throat as I talked. “This isn’t fair! All my jewelry’s gone, my Faberge eggs are gone, my house is torn apart! I’ve worked damned hard to get where I am.”
Murray rested her hand on my shoulder. “Robbery’s a violation, an invasion of privacy and personal space. You should think about talking to one of our victim’s aid counselors. Too much has happened; they can help you handle the stress.” She stood up. “I’m sorry babe, but I’m going to head out and write up the report. I’ve got a bunch of errands I have to get done before work tomorrow.”
I walked her to the door just in time to greet Mr. Johnson, the insurance agent, camera in hand. He handed me a sheaf of forms, and I got to work filling them out as he went through the house, snapping pictures. Twenty minutes later, he reappeared in the kitchen. “I’m done. If I were you, I’d get a security system.”
“Yeah, I’m going to. I imagine my premiums are going to skyrocket.”
“Not necessarily, but many more claims, and Applewood will start getting suspicious. File these forms tomorrow, and we’ll get started on your check.” He shook my hand, and I saw him to the door.
As soon as he left, I called Harlow. “Harl, I have to get out of the house. I can’t face looking at this disaster right now.”
She told me to come right over. I grabbed the dragon— I wasn’t about to leave it lying around where it might get stolen—and hounded the kids into the car. We’d clean up the mess later. When we got to Harl’s, Kip and Miranda disappeared outside; Harlow had all sorts of nooks and crannies hidden on her property, with tiny gardens tucked away behind boulders and bubbling fountains and statues placed strategically through a miniature hedge maze.
She met me at the door, maneuvering her wheelchair like a pro. I followed her inside to her study, gratefully dropping into the chair by the side of her desk.
“You look wiped.” She was wearing a pair of wireframe glasses, very stylish.
“Where’d you get those? I’ve never seen you wear glasses.”
“I usually wear contacts, but my allergies have gotten worse since I got pregnant. I wear my glasses on days when my eyes itch. What happened?”
By the time I finished telling her everything, she’d poured me a glass of sparkling water and added a chunk of lemon in it.
I took a long sip and almost spat it out. “Yuck! What the hell is this stuff? It tastes like chalk.”
“Drink it,” she said. “It’s good for you. Replenishes your electrolytes.”
“It better be good for me, since it tastes so bad,” I grumbled, but finished the glass anyway. I didn’t know whether my electrolytes needed replenishing, but I sure could use a pick-me-up. I held up the dragon. “Research time again.”
Harlow reached for it, but I shook my head. “Nope, don’t you lay one finger on this baby. Let me tell you what I found out.” I outlined what I knew of Daniel’s history and the curse on the dragon.
She jotted down a few notes as I explained what had been going on, and I noticed that, sometime in the past few months, she’d managed to learn shorthand. “You turning into a whiz kid?”
She beamed. “I never thought of myself as being very smart, but you know, I’m beginning to think that I should go to college. Get my degree in history, maybe. I love the work I’m doing for the Professor. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” I said, happy to see her self-confidence rising. Harl never considered herself very smart, even though she had a natural brilliance that hid itself under all that golden hair. She fired up her laptop.
“Hold on.” She brought up a browser and began to tap away, her fingers flying over the keys. Within a few minutes, she sat back and pointed to the screen. “Here we go. Information about Daniel’s family that may explain why he had the dragon.”
I leaned over her shoulder, glancing at the URL. We were looking at some history site I’d never heard of. “Where’d you fin
d that?”
She handed me a steno pad and pen. “The Professor sponsored me for membership on a couple web sites focusing on antiquities and archaeological digs. The sites aren’t public access, you have to be a member, and the dues are exorbitant.”
“You sure get around,” I said, chuckling. Yet another elite sector of society to which Harl owned a key. “So, what does it say about Daniel’s family?”
She scrutinized the web page. “His grandfather was an archaeologist, of sorts.”
“What do you mean, ‘of sorts’?”
“You know, back in the thirties they would go on expeditions, rob graves, and call it archaeology. Despite their unsavory methods, those ‘intrepid adventurers’ made some important discoveries.” As facetious as she sounded, I knew Harlow was dead serious. She scrolled down the web page, then tapped the screen.
“Okay, here we go, an entry for Terrance Barrington.” She paused, deciphering the various charts and entries. ‘Terrance was Daniel’s grandfather, and he was an independent archaeologist. Apparently, during 1935 he led a secret expedition into the outer reaches of China near the Mongolian steppes, where he found a cache of artifacts. He kept his favorite pieces and sold the rest on the open market. On a list of what he kept, one piece is listed as a dragon carved out of jade, dating back to the Ming dynasty! “
Bingo! “That’s my dragon,” I murmured, leaning over her shoulder. “Whatever happened to Grandpa Terrance? Daniel’s father and mother met rather nasty ends.” Come to think of it, so had Daniel.
After printing out the information about the dragon’s discovery for me, Harl plugged in a few more words and another entry came up. She turned the screen so I could see better. ‘Terrance fell overboard during an expedition in 1937, and before they could throw him a life preserver, the sharks got him.”
“Sharks?” The dragon didn’t play around; that much was for sure.
She leaned forward, grimacing as she read. “Yeah. His crew tried to save him, but the group of sharks tore Terrance limb from limb. Says here in the ship’s log that the water was so slick with his blood and bits of flesh that the crew couldn’t eat meat for days.” She looked up at me, blanching. “Ugh.”
Daniel’s family had been plagued with more carnage than a turkey farm on Thanksgiving. “Let’s see, Terrance was eaten by sharks; Daniel’s mother was struck by lightning; his father got axed to death; his wife and twin boys drowned. Daniel himself was the victim of a hit-and-run. Does it seem to you that this particular line of the Barringtons were destined for disaster?”
“Just a minute.” Harl pulled up a second browser, and we were off to a London-based site, this one a genealogy site belonging to a church. She ran her finger down the charts. “Here are the records for Terrance’s side of the family. Terrance’s wife died in a tsunami in Hawaii. They had three sons, Trenton, Harcourt, and Charles. Trenton wandered into the path of an oncoming train. Charles … it just says he died accidentally when he was thirteen. Harcourt, Daniel’s father, was murdered, but you already know the details about that. Harcourt was the only one of the three who had children.”
“Can you find any information on Daniel’s sister? Is she still alive?”
“Here. Look for yourself.”
I studied the charts. Harcourt and his wife Molly had two children. Daniel was the youngest; his sister Deirdre was four years older. Deirdre had gotten married and had borne a stillborn daughter. Her husband was listed as dead. Again, an accident. He’d died on the same day Deirdre gave birth.
“Jeez, Louise!” I said, realizing the scope of what we were looking at. “One tragedy after another. Nobody seems to have lived past the age of fifty-five. His entire family was wiped out. No wonder Daniel was so depressed.”
Wincing, not really wanting to see the line of bizarre deaths continue, I followed the family tree down to the bitter end. Three years after her daughter and husband died, Deirdre’s death had been listed as accidental, with a notation in parentheses that read, “Suicide?” Which left Daniel the last of his line. And now, he had joined his ancestors.
“I guess that’s it,” I said, sighing. “There’s nobody left.”
“Look,” Harl said. “Every single death listed in Terrance’s family took place after he found the dragon.” She gave me a wan smile. “Anything else?”
I stared at my notes. Gruesome. And now I was keeper of a five-hundred-year-old cursed jade statue. “I guess I just need to find out how to lift the hex.” I glanced out the window. “I’d better take off. It’s getting late, and I need to clean up my house. If you can dig up anything else, I’d appreciate it.”
Harl snorted. “I make a good busybody, don’t I? I’ll find what I can.” We headed outside, where I called for the kids.
They came running over, squabbling about who was the stronger, Superman or Batman.
“Superman is!” Randa argued.
Kip stuck out his tongue. “Nuh-uh, what about kryptonite?”
I herded them into the car. “This,” I said to Harl, “is what you have to look forward to. Okay, gang, let’s get moving.” We took off for home, and when we got there, I found a note from Joe, saying he’d dropped by to say hello and check on us, and to please call him when I had the time. I stuck the note in my pocket, then headed inside. Time to sweep. Lately it seemed like all I did was clean up the trail of broken glass somebody else left behind.
MONDAY BROUGHTA respite, at least for the first hour of the day. I had been restless all night, tossing and turning until I was a bundle of knots. When the morning rays of pale sun crept through my window and drifted across my face, I tumbled out of bed, still tired but too nerve-racked to go back to sleep.
With a yawn, I opened the window, and birdsong filtered in on the cool spring breeze. Though it would be several months before it was warm enough to enjoy the weather, the buds on my maple tree were beginning to open, and little hints of green dotted the bushes all over town. Horvald’s tulips shimmered from across the street, satin pink under the morning light.
What to wear? I decided on a pair of khakis, a hunter green tank top, and my espadrilles. I wound the ribbons up around my calves and tied them in pretty bows. A quick glance in the mirror told me I was beginning to look like Vampira’s twin sister, so I added a touch of color with some coral lipstick that I liked to think made me a little mermaid-ish, then spritzed myself with my ever-present Opium.
Time to haul my butt down the stairs and into the kitchen. As I was grinding coffee beans and nuking a pocket sandwich, the phone rang. It was my banker, letting me know that they’d received a direct deposit to my store account from Applewood Insurance Company. He gave me the amount of the check, and I yipped for joy. Applewood hadn’t been stingy! All my losses were covered, and I’d be able to restock. I just hoped they’d cover my losses at home, too.
“I love you, Mr. Conner!” I thanked him for the news and went back to brewing espresso. Maybe today wouldn’t be a bust after all; I could begin restocking the store and be back in the running by next week. I put in a call to Safety-Tech and ordered a security system for the house, and they signed me up for a Saturday installation. Then I put in a call to Don Patterson, the locksmith, to get all the locks on our doors changed. He said he’d be out within an hour or so. Regardless of what else happened, I was determined that our home would be safe.
As I bit into my sandwich, the kids spilled into the kitchen. Kip fed and watered the cats while Miranda dug out the Cheerios. “You want cereal?” she asked, grabbing three bowls from the cupboard.
“Nah, thanks though.” I held up my sandwich. They ate while I drained my chocolate-laced caffeine. Ah, that was the stuff! Damn good wake-up medicine. The world was growing more focused with every sip. “Safety-Tech’s coming by on Saturday to install our security system,” I told them. “And the bank got the check for the store.” I glanced at the clock. “Off to school! You don’t want to be late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They saluted me, their eyes twinklin
g. “Anything you say, ma’am.” I shooed them out the door and waved them across the street. I was on my second mocha, about to head out to work, when the phone rang.
Murray’s voice came on the line. She sounded worried.
“Em, we’ve got a credible report placing Jimbo outside the Thai Market on Heather Street. That’s damn close to your house.”
“Oh hell. What should I do?”
“Keep your eyes open. We’ll have a cruiser over there in a few minutes. Are the kids there?”
“No, they should be at school by now.”
Time for a few chores while I waited for the locksmith. The garbage trucks had come down our street early in the morning, so I headed out to the curb to bring back the trash can when I heard the roar of a motorcycle behind me. An alarm went off in the pit of my stomach. I glanced around just in time to see Jimbo leap off the back of his Harley, and he was aimed right in my direction. The big man was quick and, even though I dodged out of the way, I wasn’t as fast as he was. He grabbed hold of my wrist, leaning down to growl in my face.
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