Dagger Key and Other Stories

The cross is a processional cross, 18 inches high, designed to be mounted on a wooden staff and held aloft by the acolyte preceding, in this case, the Archbishop of New Providence, for whom it was intended as a gift. Fashioned of yellow gold, exquisitely carved, and set with four diamonds of approximately forty karats and a ruby nearly twice that size. Also a gift meant for the Archbishop, the chalice is more resplendent yet, made of white gold and studded with emeralds and diamonds. By contrast, the dagger is nondescript, its hilt of horn chased with silver, but it has history on its side, having belonged to the fourth Marquis of Vallardo and been put to bloody use by both him and Annie. Fredo has held them in his hands several times, yet he has never once laid eyes upon them. Annie keeps her secrets close.

He sleeps poorly, ridden by dreams of a pale woman in a white blouse and brown leggings, and he rises before dawn to make the long walk into Dever’s Landing, catching a ride from town with young Gentry Samuels, who delivers fresh bread to the resort. The eastern sky is touched with mauve when he arrives, and Fredo waits on a stool at the beachside bar until a red sliver of sun has crept up over the horizon and the lights come on inside Klose’s bungalow, watching as

an orb weaver,

a galaxy of white spots

speckling its black back,

dangling from the thatch

on a single strand of silk,

lowers itself to within an inch

of the countertop, then stalls

as if wary of the wet ring

left by a drunkard’s glass…

and when it finally descends to the wooden surface, only then does he approach the bungalow and knock.

To his surprise, Selkie opens the door. She’s wearing a frilly nightgown that extends from the slopes of her breasts to mid-thigh, and conceals nothing. Her pink areolae are visible through the sheer fabric, as is the dark suggestion of a pubic patch, at odds with her blond head. Fredo is put off by this casual display, but he also recalls what Vinroy said and wonders how it would be to lie with her. She seems less woman than a parfait of cream and strawberry, and he thinks that though the image she presents is arousing, she would not give him the pleasure of a real woman like Emily. He asks where her husband is.

“He is showering,” Selkie says, sitting on the large overstuffed sofa that dominates the room, a harmony of white and pastel blues, except for the breakfast nook, decorated in sunnier colors. “Do not concern yourself with him. He is quite happy to remain in the bedroom while we are concluding our business.”

“He not coming out, then?”

“Not unless we wish him to.” Selkie pats the cushion beside her, indicating that he should sit, and, once he does, she scoots nearer so that their knees are almost touching. The musky scent of her perfume surrounds him, seeming to issue from the depths of her cleavage. She nods at the bedroom door. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable dealing with him?”

“I can handle it if you can.”

“Oh, of this I am quite sure.” She smiles coyly, the crimson bow of her mouth lengthening as if being strung, and gives his leg a pat. “The paper you gave Alvin…are you the one who made the sketches?”

He wrenches his eyes away from the milky valley between her breasts. “That were a friend of mine did the drawing.”

“Your friend has had a peculiar education,” she says. “He uses antiquated spelling. The double f instead of the s, for example. Did he perhaps copy the words from the cargo manifest?”

“I suppose,” says Fredo.

“Were you not present when he made these sketches?”

Rattled, Fredo says, “What you want to know all this for?”

“I am wishing only to satisfy my curiosity.” She dismisses the subject with a wave of her hand. “To business, then. Your friend has noted the diamonds in the cross are weighing forty karats, and the ruby is…” She casts about, as if searching for something. “Scheisse! My little book? Do you see it? It has a green cover.”

“The ruby seventy-eight karats, if that’s what you looking to know. The emeralds on the cup, now…”

“We have no interest in the cup. Too bulky. The cross is better because it lies flat.”

Fredo shrugs.

“We will, of course, require to see it before we commit,” Selkie continues. “Once we have made an assessment of its value, we will secure the funds.”

“No, no! That’s not how it going to be,” Fredo says. “You gets the money, I brings the cross. You like what you see, then we make a trade and go our separate ways. And we do it quick. If the money not here tomorrow evening, say about seven-eight o’clock, it might as well never be here.”

“But we must authenticate the cross…and the stones.”

“Then best you learn about authenticating quick. Look here. When you see the thing, you going to know it old. And if you don’t trust it, walk away. That’s what I intends to do and the money ain’t right.”

Selkie looks at him without expression for a long moment. “How much do you want?”

“Fifty thousand dollars,” he says. “Cash money.”