The Curious Case of the Cursed Spectacles Page 6

  Edgar rapped on his skull. "Did you leave anything in there, or did the entire contents come pouring out in that long and winding thought?"

  Clarence scowled. "Screw you, spook. I don't have to put up with criticism from someone who isn't even alive any more."

  "Ouch," Edgar said. "That hurt. Just because I'm a ghost doesn't mean I don't have feelings."

  "Edgar, even if we can't parse his suggestion, Clarence is right. Tracking down Enid and seeing if she can tell us anything, makes sense. It's the next logical step." Clarence seemed pleased. "At least it makes as much sense as anything can make when you find yourself propelled into a world of cursed objects and befuddled ghosts. And it isn't like we have any other leads."

  "Befuddled?" Edgar sounded offended again.

  I sighed "You're the one who said everything was murky."

  "So I did. It's just that befuddled sounds so... negative."

  Clarence pointed to the other pictures. "These other people in the pictures might be important too. I wonder who they are?"

  I took the photos out one at a time and checked the backs. "Whoever was helpful enough to label the first one shirked the job for the rest of them," I said showing them the blank backs.

  Clarence shrugged. "Well, if we take them along to see Enid, maybe she'll know who they are."

  "And if she does, maybe she'll tell us. There's no guarantee she'll be helpful," I said.

  "Or, of course, if she's in on it." Edgar had said it casually but Clarence and I turned to stare him. "In on what?" I asked.

  "In on whatever is going on. On the theft of the cursed objects; on the cursing of the objects; on hiding them away for some purpose; on getting Miss Cecelia Parish back to Destiny's Point."

  I caught my breath. "Why would anyone on earth want me in Destiny's Point, other than Uncle Mason? I doubt he had a heart attack just to get me here."

  Edgar gave an ethereal shrug. "Maybe not. Who knows? Why would anyone want any of us here? Why would anyone put a curse on a stupid pen that probably doesn't even write well any more?"

  I had to admit that for a ghost without many good answers, Edgar seemed to have a handle on coming up with compelling questions.

  "At least we have a lead," I said, waving the picture. "Enid."

  "Which makes me wonder," Clarence said. "Who might've left it for us to follow."

  "I think I might get to like this awkward and oddly-dressed fellow after all," Edgar said.

  It took some work, but after a bit of time rummaging through the files at the front desk, Clarence came up with an address and phone number for Enid Potter. He handed it to me. "There you go."

  "Me?"

  "You're the concerned niece and the one who would by rights have the photos. You should call her."

  He was right. I was starting to like his logic.

  When I called I got no answer. "I suppose I should just go over in the morning," I said.

  "I need to be here and keep the shop open," he said. "Tomorrow is Monday. Mason expects me to have it open."

  I wasn't sure I agreed that Mason would be upset if the shop was closed for a morning, especially under the circumstances, but I was just as glad. I doubted that three of us (if you counted Edgar) converging on Enid would put her in the right frame of mind to get the information we wanted.

  "Then Edgar and I will head over first thing," I said.

  "And come back here to fill me in," Clarence said. "Please?"

  "Of course. I'll want to bounce everything off you."

  Chapter Seven

  Enid lived across town from Uncle Mason's shop. It wasn't a long way but I needed transportation, so Monday morning I called Steve. "Sure I've got time," he said. "I think you might be the only customer in town. I should always have time for you when I'm not at the hospital."

  A short time later Edgar and I (with Steve unable to see Edgar) were in the bright yellow toaster, heading to the outskirts of town.

  "This is an amazing horseless carriage," Edgar said. "Far more comfortable than the ones I've been in, and it moves so fast it takes your breath away. The landscape is a total blur."

  His lack of awareness of cars surprised me. Even given his employment as the haunt for an old pen, it seemed that Edgar had been around before Uncle Mason put the spell on the pen—if he really had. Edgar's memory and awareness were, at best, spotty.

  "Can you wait for us?" I asked Steve as we pulled up to Enid's tiny house.

  "Sure... but us?"

  "Sorry. Wait for me?" I had to keep in mind that Steve could't see him. It seemed like an unnecessary confusion. If Edgar was visible he'd have to be explained.

  We went to the door and knocked. She opened the door with a smile and a cheery hello, but then she stared at Edgar's face. "You!"

  "You!" Edgar said. He looked at me. "Now I remember her. Enid, of course."

  "I think you'd better leave," Enid said sternly. "Go back to your box."

  "I can't leave her," he said. "You know that."

  I felt like I was being tossed into a hopper with ingredients both surreal and unreal again. "You can see Edgar?"

  "Dang right," she said. She turned her glare on me. "I can see you too... whoever you are."

  "I'm Mason Parish's niece, Cecelia."

  Suddenly her expression changed, the frown melted and she shook her head. "Oh yes, of course it is. If this ghost weren't here distracting me I would've known you right away. Was that you who called the other day?"

  "It was."

  "Well, what can I do for you?"

  "I need your help." I took out the picture of the group of young people and held it out. She took it gingerly and stared at it for a time. Clearly it brought back memories. "I think you'd better come inside, have some tea."

  "I like tea,” Edgar said."

  "You always did," she snorted and led us inside.

  Sitting on her couch sipping tea, I became aware of her unease with Edgar. "Does Edgar's presence bother you?"

  "We have a certain history. But then, if he's here, I have to assume..."

  "Yes, I opened the pen box."

  Enid let out a long breath and sat back. "Then you are cursed."

  "Is it a bad curse?"

  "That depends. How are you getting along with him?"

  "Fine. He seems charming in an old world way."

  "Then you should be fine. As I recall that's about the extent of it. You have to carry the pen around unless you can get someone to take it from you—I'm sure you've discovered that you can't leave it behind?" I nodded. "So that's about it. But it does mean that I can't talk to you alone... not your fault. Oh well, but in the future, you would do well to stay away from the... cursed objects."

  "I'd assume that's pretty good advice. It's just coming a bit late. Until yesterday I didn't even know such things existed."

  "I never thought putting him in the box was the best option. And there were others." Enid got a faraway look in her eyes. "The other ones, the other objects are all safe?"

  "Safe? That's not how I'd describe them."

  "What?"

  "They were stolen."

  Enid's face paled. "Tell me the whole story."

  I drew a breath and told her about Uncle Mason being in the hospital and me being called. "I saw him briefly but he wasn't that coherent. Then Jeff Wiggens gave me the keys, and I stayed at Uncle Mason's. Saturday night someone broke in, totally wrecked the beautiful mahogany door before I'd even peeked inside. Edgar... the box with the pen in it, were the only things left."

  Enid arched her eyebrows and looked at Edgar. "You knew. You had to if you managed to hide."

  Edgar flinched. "I felt uneasy."

  "You told me it caught you by surprise."

  "I anticipated it more than I let on. You don't know how hard it is to move that box."

  "That's why you are so slight," Enid said. "It takes him time to restore himself."

  "And that's all I know. I'm trying to understand what's going on."

 
"I'm not surprised... about Mason. It's about that time."

  "Time?"

  Enid seemed to catch herself. "Well, my dear, you know we're both quite old."

  "Not ancient."

  She took a long breath again, getting up her courage. "The harsh truth is that thirteen years ago Mason used a cursed object to avoid dying. It was reckless of him and I didn't approve at all. I warned him, not that he didn't know the cost. He knew he'd pay a price better than most. Of course, he didn't listen to me."

  "The price?"

  "The cost of using the objects. The future has a certain elasticity, but you can't just change it willy-nilly. In fact, you can't even bend your fate the way he did without paying a price. There is a lot we don't understand about celestial dynamics, but we do know that ultimately it is a zero-sum game. Any bad thing you postpone now you will pay for later—with interest. Mason used the power of one of the cursed objects to avoid death back then. Now, this is certainly the end. I was opposed to him using magic."

  "I told you they could be used," Edgar said.

  "But if Uncle Mason was going to die and had a way of preventing it..."

  Enid shook her head. "It wasn't a certainty. I thought he should take his chances without trying to alter fate." She folded her hands in her lap. "I loved him, you know."

  "I understood you were engaged."

  "Yes. He wouldn't listen to reason and I couldn't abide him going against what we stood for, even when it seemed necessary. That's why we broke up. I couldn't be sure that if he did that thing he wouldn't be willing to go down other dark paths. The objects are temptation distilled down into its essence." She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "I ended our engagement, but never stopped loving him. Now he will certainly die. You don't escape the ethereal barter system. And I have to wonder what the price was, or will be that he will pay."

  "Maybe losing you was enough."

  She gave me a thin smile. "In some ways, it would be nice to think that, that our romance rated high enough on the cosmic scale of things to matter." She pulled back her shoulders. "Now is there anything else you can tell me about this robbery?"

  "I think it was two men." I described them and how they'd been in the store just before it closed and that I'd seen them sitting in a car waiting.

  Her face grew dark. "This is very bad news. Very, very bad."

  "Why?"

  "There is a reason that we went to so much trouble to secure those things and hide them away. How did anyone get into the back room? I know you said they broke the door, but Mason had that door made special."

  So I described the scene, the way the door had been smashed, and only the things in the back room taken.

  "It would be someone who had their own power objects, cursed things. They needed to neutralize Mason's protections."

  That intrigued me. "You mean like other antique dealers?"

  She chuckled. "No, dearie. Although... no it couldn't possibly have been..." She tossed the unfinished sentence away. "Someone much more sinister. But never mind the mechanics of how it happened for now. We have to get at it quickly."

  "Get at what?"

  "She wants us to find the cursed objects," Edgar said, speaking softly. I think Enid intimidated him a bit.

  "Yes. It's important that these things are retrieved and hidden away again as quickly as possible."

  "And we're supposed to find them?"

  Enid smile. "Well, who else will do it?"

  "How in the world would we even start? We have no idea who took them."

  Enid clucked. "Your Uncle Mason did most of the work finding them... I think you are at least as clever as he is."

  "But he knew what they were?"

  "No. He simply knew he had to look for objects that were affecting things in odd ways. And listen to silly stories. You see, these objects and their powers... the word about them gets around. They can't remain unnoticed for long. People use them, usually to accomplish things that are... unusual. They allow ordinary people to do things that you wouldn't think them capable of doing on their own. Those things get reported."

  "The tabloids," I said, understanding.

  "Yes. The fantastic doesn't get reported in the mainstream media. They fear for their credibility and they don't like to acknowledge that such things are even remotely possible."

  That set off a lightbulb in my head. "So Uncle Mason collected clippings from tabloid papers that recounted those strange events! He was looking for cursed objects."

  Enid smiled. "Precisely. Those papers report odd things whether they believe they happened or not. Mason subscribed to a dozen or so and read through them carefully. A lot of it was rubbish, of course, and you have to wade through it all. And then you have to go check them out personally."

  "Uncle Mason's buying trips... the reason he needed Clarence to run the shop."

  "What a sweet boy he is too. The thing to keep in mind is that when you do locate an object, you need to be careful. Every one of those objects is extremely dangerous. Sometimes in ways you don't expect."

  "Can you help me?"

  Enid shook her head. "I can tell you what I know but I'm far too old to be of much use to you. Besides, I left that life behind years ago. Once Mason weakened and decided to use that object for his own gain, I wanted to be as far away from this kind of thing as possible. I still do."

  "Can you at least tell me who the other people in the group picture are?"

  She sighed. "Even if I remembered all their names... it wouldn't be of any help to you, I'm afraid. It was just the old gang. One of them is named Beatrice, but what good does that do you?"

  "When you know nothing, every drop of information is gold," I said. I felt bad for Enid. Uncle Mason had put her in a bind and she'd suffered. Even so, I had the feeling she wasn't telling me everything. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up things that make you feel bad. I had no idea about the rift between you and Uncle Mason..."

  "No, my dear, that's fine. While I don't want any part of your quest, you are welcome to visit and talk to me about how it's going. Any time at all. I don't mind pointing you in the right direction." She put her fingers to her mouth. "You know, somehow, meeting you for the first time it's almost as though I've missed you... that I've wanted to see you again, and yet I'm sure we've never met before."

  Suddenly a piece of my confusion and uncertainty about Enid fell into place. "That's exactly it. I've felt the same thing, as if we were renewing our acquaintance, not meeting for the first time. But that doesn't make any sense."

  Enid gave me one of those enigmatic smiles. "You need to get used to it. Now that you are part of it... that world, you'll find yourself encountering many illogical things that will be irrefutably real and tangible." She crossed her arms and held her own shoulders. I could see her shiver. "It can be rather unsettling. That's one reason I was so glad to leave it behind, even if it meant losing the love of my life. I was never of the right mindset to deal with that. It's so good that you are well equipped to handle it."

  "I am?"

  She nodded.

  "I could've told you that," Edgar said. "It's plain as day."

  "And you have Clarence to help you."

  "And me," Edgar said. "I'm not sliced cheese."

  "No, you are nothing that useful," Enid said. Obviously, she and Edgar had a history that wasn't all positive although she was more disapproving of him than distressed at his presence.

  I needed to put things back on track. "You mentioned a quest... what is the quest?"

  Enid sighed again. "I was talking about finding the stolen things. You might as well know... the cursed objects are going to be difficult to locate. By now they'll have been scattered around."

  "Why? Won't the thieves keep them to use them? I thought that was why they took them."

  "Keeping them only gives them a single way to use them and that power might not be useful to achieving their ends. Some of the objects can carry out their mission better if they are distributed to unknowing
humans who misuse them rather than using them to their full potential. If that's the case, searching for these cursed objects won't be easy, or quick. And then, after you find them, you need to get whoever has them to give them up."

  "Won't they be glad to get rid of them?"

  She sighed. "The objects have a tendency to make whoever has them want to keep them. The person thinks the object is granting them power and there is something of an addictive effect when you use them."

  "I wish I knew more about what they were."

  "Certain ones will show themselves first. It's just their nature. When you find those, you'll start to understand about the others and be more... receptive to the clues they give about their whereabouts."

  "Which ones should we expect to find first?"

  "I have no idea. I just know that's how it works."

  "What if I just find a couple and give it up?"

  She gave me a sad look. "I'm afraid that's not at all how it can go. It's just not the nature of things. Perhaps Mason can tell you more, although I doubt he'll be allowed to say much of any use."

  "Allowed?"

  She caught herself. "I mean, he hasn't much time." She grinned. "But then I don't have a great deal of that either. Now you'd better get to it." Abruptly she was showing us to the door where she kissed my cheek. "Tell your Uncle I still love him."

  "Won't you go see him?"

  "Heavens no. That wouldn't be good at all." She glared at Edgar. "This time you'd better not try..."

  "Of course not," he said.

  "What was she talking about?" I asked as we walked back to the toaster.

  "I've got no idea. Crazy old woman. I just agreed with her to keep her quiet."

  Steve was sitting in the driver's seat and looked up from the book he was reading—THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING.

  "I guess we can go now," I said, opening the door and getting in. He put the book in a slot in the console. "Is that a good story?"

  "It's less of a story than an idea. I love Kundera's lyricism," he said. "How did your meeting go?"

  "As well as could be expected, dealing with a cynic," Edgar said.

  "It was fine, although confusing," I said. "She's a delightful old woman."