The Pearl Dagger

by L. A. Chandlar

  I darted my eyes to Kirkland, who had a look of wonder on his face.

  “Charlie had been an informant for me. Only when I was on the right side of the law, I might add. She was the one who suspected Daphne first. I always wondered if she’d witnessed something that would have revealed who Daphne really was or confirmed Rex’s own fears that she wasn’t fit.”

  At this thought, Kirkland gruffly replied, “You know, I think you may be right. Charlie had quite an intuition. Maybe she didn’t witness an event as much as Daphne could tell she saw through her ruse. You’re like that, Lane. You can see behind the smoke screen that a lot of people put up. See the real person. I like that. Makes me feel like Charlie’s still around, know what I mean?”

  “I do, Kirkland. I do. Well . . .” said the growly voice of Venetti. “I’m glad we had this meeting. Say hello to all your friends surrounding the place,” he said with a wry grin. “I think we’ll be getting on this train.”

  I looked down the track to see an oncoming train, its single white light illuminating the tunnel. Raff nodded curtly and scanned the area as well as each car as it roared past with a whoosh of wind.

  “Before you go, sir,” I yelled over the noise of the train. “Can we assume you’ll be spreading the word about Daphne?”

  His black eyes focused on me and if I didn’t know he was on my side at the moment, I’d have taken a step back to get away from that fierce countenance. “Absolutely. Take care of yourself, Lane. She won’t need to silence you anymore, but you’ve got a scorned and embarrassed enemy now. Be careful.”

  My stomach dropped at his words, but I held out my hand. “Thank you for being a friend to my mom. And to me.”

  He took my hand into his, looking into my eyes, searching. He found what he was looking for and a smile lit his eyes.

  “You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Late that night, after work and after Aunt Evelyn and Mr. Kirkland retired for the night, Finn and I sat in the little room off our kitchen with the fireplace crackling and sending sparks here and there. The snow on the maple tree out back frosted the branches and gave the tree an ethereal glow as it slowly moved in the winter wind.

  “Well, at least it makes sense now, why Venetti’s been benevolent toward you, Lane,” said Finn, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Yeah, my mother and Uncle Louie, childhood friends . . . hard to imagine,” I said, shaking my head. “I always knew there was something there. I kept half wondering if he’d turn out to be my real uncle or something. But I confirmed with Evelyn that Charlotte was an only child. For sure.”

  He grinned at me. “You checked hospital records, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” I reached over and poured us both more wine. “Oh, hey! I have something for you. I picked it up at the Strand.” I ran up to my room and brought down the slim, burgundy volume of Macbeth.

  “Ooh, it’s lovely, Lane. I love it,” he said, feeling the embossed leather and appreciating the craftsmanship.

  “Look inside,” I said with an eager smile.

  He carefully opened it and said, “Oh my God. I can’t believe you did this.” Inside, at the top, I had written, “With all our love and thanks.” Then I signed it, and I had the cast of Voodoo Macbeth, along with Orson Welles and the Battles, also sign it. Florence even put a little heart next to her name.

  “I’ll always cherish it, love,” he said. “It’s meant a lot to me, the whole play as well as Orson’s production. What it’s stood for both in my life and for my friends . . . thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, delighted.

  I curled my legs up into my moss-green velvet chair and fingered the pearl dagger that I’d also brought in with me. I sipped my wine, in a thoughtful mood, while Finn looked through Shakespeare’s masterpiece.

  “You know,” I said, “this dagger, and what it stood for, is just what we needed to get through this last case, both here and in London.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Finn as he came over and perched on the edge of my chair.

  “Well, to get through the ugliness of what Sean had planned for you, and all those lies, we had to trust and believe that we could do it, that we could find the beauty in the midst of those ashes.”

  He nodded as he took the dagger carefully into his hands.

  I went on, “Then back here, Voodoo was going to be used for evil, but our friends saw through the deception and we believed we could work together. Hell, even Uncle Louie. His business has a dark side, to be sure, but he also was loyal to my mom and therefore me.”

  “Beauty out of adversity,” said Finn softly. “It’s actually the meaning of our whole life, Lane. Our era, our jobs, our family life . . .”

  I smiled, a feeling of serenity washing over me as I thought of my mother tossing the dagger to Mr. Kirkland, telling him that we’d need it. We did. We needed that perspective above all else.

  “I think I’ll go get us some coffee,” I said, about to get up.

  “Hold on,” said Finn with an intriguing catch to his voice. “Have you noticed that the end cap on this has a tiny, almost invisible latch?” he asked.

  “No. Can you open it? What is it for?”

  “Usually, you can store matches in the handle, or sometimes there’s a tiny compass in the handle. But that’s mostly in hunting knives.” His long fingers carefully opened the end. The handle had a small hollow pommel. “There’s something in there, but my fingers are too big. Can you use your nails to get it?”

  “Sure, let me try.” I pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment that looked very old. It was only a couple of inches square and I carefully opened it up. In an old kind of script was written,

  We made this dagger to symbolize goodness that

  grows in spite of darkness, and the courage that makes it so.

  “Oooh, I like that,” he said with relish. “Remember when you told me back in London that I wasn’t cursed? Like Macbeth?” he asked. I nodded and he quickly went on, “Well, that’s exactly what hit me. I’d needed to hear that goodness could come out of darkness. And I just needed the courage to believe it.”

  We spent the rest of the evening talking over coffee and cookies. We thought through the many instances of beauty coming out of darkness, wanting to cement it in our minds and hearts. We thought of Morgan’s band of merry men, the cast of Voodoo and all they’d been through, team Fiorello, Louie Venetti, and our many new friends here and abroad. I’d have to write to tell John Tolkien and Jack Lewis back in England about the culmination of our mystery and the note we found in the dagger. They did so love a good story.

  As Finn and I washed and dried our glasses and cups shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen sink, with playful teases and laughs that warmed my soul, I felt a deep sense of peace and happiness.

  I knew Daphne was out there, and I knew she’d come after me. And God only knew where Tucker was and what he was planning. I just knew beyond a doubt that he was planning; it wasn’t in his nature to quit. He was an enigma, complicated. He was ruthless, yet he had been scared about losing total control, about evil consuming him and losing his ability to choose. Something his mother certainly never worried about. She was the poster child for evil, truly a Mr. Hyde through and through. Tucker, though . . . I wasn’t sure. Why care if you’d already fully given yourself over to evil?

  No matter what was coming, I believed in the very core of my being that we’d figure it out. That goodness and beauty would triumph over adversity. That in the end, we would have the courage to make it so.

  EPILOGUE

  April 1937

  His body was still stiff and not at one hundred percent but getting there after a few months of healing and working to regain his strength. He rolled his neck in the morning light shining through the long, slanted windows. He took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of a plan coming together.

  It had taken quite a bit of research and networking in the States and abroad, but he had time on his hands. H
e was letting the other players squabble and fight while he waited in the wings for just the right moment.

  The woman he’d cared for had deeply scarred him. It was a wound that remained raw and unable to heal, compared to the rest of his body. But he liked his new plan. He looked around him at the beauty surrounding the lavish appointments in the great room. Lane would’ve enjoyed this. Too bad it had to be used for his plan. It would be bittersweet, but in the end, a profound reckoning.

  “Mr. Tucker Henslowe? The captain is ready for your tour, sir.”

  “Thank you, I’ve been looking forward to this for quite some time,” he said.

  “Excellent, sir, we are very proud of her and we look forward to your article. Welcome aboard the Hindenburg!”

  Where shall we three meet again?

  In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

  When the hurlyburly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.

  —the three witches, Macbeth

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  You never really know who you’re passing on the street, whether someone is destined for greatness, mediocrity, or evil.... The most beautiful thing about historical fiction is bringing those wondrous possibilities to light. There are fantastic points of real history threaded through my stories, as well as many cameo appearances. And reader be warned: Always read my Author’s Notes. They’re really fun and often if there are wild or spectacular parts to my story, especially where Mayor La Guardia is concerned, it probably actually happened in real life.

  The flippers in pinball machines weren’t developed until 1947. Before then, the ball would be launched and bounce off the pins randomly, landing wherever it might. So the game was definitely a gambling machine versus a game where skill could give the player a fighting chance. Fiorello’s words when he talks about pinball were his actual words: “Only a moron or imbecile could get a thrill out of watching these sure-thing devices take people’s money. Let this serve notice to owners, racketeers, and other riffraff who run this racket that they will enjoy no comfort!” taken from The Napoleon of New York.

  The inspector’s funeral: the folded flag presentation tradition goes all the way back to Civil War times. The bagpipes weren’t officially at every NYPD funeral until 1959 with the Emerald Society, nicknamed the NYPD Irish Brigade, but at most Irish or Scottish funerals, the bagpipes were played even earlier than that. When an officer is fallen, the department retires the badge number forever. In this case, I chose Officer Rafael Ramos’s badge number 6335, in memory of the killing of Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos, who were targeted in a police hate crime on December 20, 2014.

  The Rockefeller Center skating rink was truly just being tried out that year, winter of 1937. And of course you know it was quite successful.

  The situation at the Lower East Side relief station had been recorded by an eyewitness journalist and pretty much took place exactly as I wrote it, including Fio calling the mean derby-hatted guy an S of a B (his exact wording), vaulting the railing, timing how quickly the staff could get through their line of customers, and the long line of grateful citizens waiting for him outside. The scene of him taking on the role of magistrate at the Harlem precinct was also true, minus the role of Eugene Murk, as he’s completely fictitious.

  For my J.R.R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis fans, you’ll already recognize that the group Finn and Lane met with at the Bird and Baby outside of London was a famous writing and storytelling group that did exist in real history at Oxford: the Inklings. I tried to be true to their personalities, but of course the entire scene is fictitious. However, the description of the Bird, the men in the group, and many other tidbits mentioned were true including their debate on whether or not John Tolkien should name his favorite Hobbit home Bag End, from his aunt Jane’s farm. His mother did die of diabetes in real life when he was only twelve. The group had several members, but some of the core members were: John (J.R.R.) Tolkien, C. S. (Jack) Lewis, Warren Lewis, Adam Fox, and Owen Barfield.

  The Inklings met weekly from the early thirties until late 1949 and from it came such inspiration as The Hobbit, which was released later in 1937 (you can be sure it will make an appearance when Lane reads it), The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and C. S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia, among a multitude of other works of genius. Any issues of accuracy are my fault entirely or derived from artistic necessity. The mention about the Lorians is because I always wonder about the backstories of what inspires people. I thought it would be fun to play on the Lorians’ name for the land of Lórien that Tolkien writes about.

  The Savoy Hotel had many firsts as a hotel from their pink tablecloths to flooding the lobby for a party that imitated the streets of Venice. It’s a fascinating place and I recommend their cocktail book. Lane loved their coffee, and in 1937 they were the first hotel to offer its own special coffee blend for sale by mail order.

  John Barnard—driver of the divine Riley Imp that races by Finn and Lane as they’re on their way to a date at the Met—was a mention of a real-life person. He was the uncle of Amber Rose, a lovely friend of mine and a book lover. John did in fact arrive on the Queen Mary’s maiden voyage and took his Riley Imp on board. He was pulled over in New Jersey for speeding, but was just given a warning because they were so shocked he was British and driving a right-hand-drive car. And who can really blame the guy for speeding?

  Dead Shot Mary was a real person and amazing! She did in fact accrue one thousand arrests before she retired and was the first woman on the force to use her service weapon to apprehend a criminal. She was the first female detective and did in fact use all those methods I talked about with her pickpocket squad, including bringing family members along once in a while to aid in her disguise.

  “Mambo Italiano” was written and performed much later, but I’ve often come across old songs that later make an official appearance by a big performer. I really wanted this song, I wanted people to think of the rhythms and the words, so for the sake of the story, I fictionalized this as the origin story of the song. The mambo began in the late thirties, though didn’t officially become a dance craze in the States until the 1940s, but the rhumba started on the East Coast in the 1930s.

  Voodoo Macbeth’s final performances were at the Majestic in Brooklyn, in October 1936. Here I have taken artistic license to have it end a few months later, in February of 1937. Welles’s words when he speaks to Lane at the beginning are actually his own words, abbreviated by me, from a BBC interview in 1982. At the end of his life, he felt Voodoo was his greatest contribution.

  In 1939, Mayor Fiorello La Guardia appointed Jane Bolin as the first black, female judge in the country. She remained the sole black, female judge for twenty years.

  In 1937, Winston Churchill considered himself in a political wilderness and was well known as an author. He really did have a tiny photograph of himself in the first issue of Time magazine in November 1936, casually flipping the bird to the camera as he fingered his tooth.

  Lane’s scene at the Strand bookstore was totally true to history. And little Fred, who took over the store years later for his father, Ben, was always known for saying, “We just need more books.”

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Abbott, Berenice, and Elizabeth McCausland. New York in the Thirties. New York: Dover Publications, 1939.

  Brodsky, Alyn. The Great Mayor. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2003.

  Browne, Arthur. One Righteous Man, Samuel Battle and the Shattering of the Color Line in New York. Boston: Beacon Press, 2015.

  Carpenter, Humphrey. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000.

  Cuneo, Ernest. Life with Fiorello. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1955.

  Duriez, Colin. The Oxford Inklings. Oxford, England: Lion Hudson, 2015.

  Footner, Hulbert. New York: City of Cities. Philadelphia: J. B. Lip-pencott, 1937.

  France, Richard. Orson Welles on Shakespeare: The W.P.A. and Mercury Theatre Playscripts. New York: Greenwood Press, 1990.

  Jackson, Kenneth
T. The Encyclopedia of New York City. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995.

  Manchester, William. The Last Lion, Winston Spencer Churchill, Visions of Glory. New York: Hachette Book Group, 1983.

  Jeffers, H. Paul. The Napoleon of New York. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2002.

  Jennings, Peter, and Todd Brewster. The Century. New York: Doubleday, 1998.

  Lowe, David Garrard. Art Deco New York. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, a Division of VNU Business Media, Inc., 2004.

  Poremba, David Lee. Detroit: A Motor City History. Charleston, South Carolina: Arcadia Publishing, 2001.

  Schwartz, Ronnie Nelson. Voices from the Federal Theater. Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2003.

  Stolley, Richard B. LIFE: Our Century in Pictures. Boston, New York, London: Bulfinch Press, 1999.

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  THE PEARL DAGGER

  L. A. Chandlar

  ABOUT THIS GUIDE

  The suggested questions are included

  to enhance your group’s reading of

  L. A. Chandlar’s The Pearl Dagger.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. What was your favorite scene and why? Do you have a scene that keeps coming back to mind for any reason, even a minor one? Why was it memorable? (For me, I loved the moment at the hospital when Lane and Finn are assaulted by Sean and Finn is accused of poisoning their father. I loved how it caused Lane and Finn to close ranks, to draw from each other that sanctity in the midst of chaos and injustice. I also LOVED that final scene of Voodoo Macbeth and Finn’s reactions. “The charm’s wound up!” Gives me chills. And of course when Lane realizes backstage, “Daphne’s here.”)