Page 38 of Last Resort

Erik still marveled at how matter-of-factly people in New Jersey talked about organized crime.

“Thank you—and thank Steve. We’ve got a connection now to the Fun Factoryandthe Commodore Wilson—and a solid link to the Raines family. I just don’t know what that has to do with the poker chips and whether Holden Carr is a treasure hunter or a killer.”

“Oh, an interesting piece of trivia. Steve is kind of an unofficial expert on the Jersey Mafia,” Susan said. “What can I say? Some people are serial killer fans, and Steve knows about mobsters. You ever see that television series about the Atlantic City Mob back in the Prohibition days? They modeled the main guy after Nucky Johnson, who ran the Boardwalk syndicate back then. If he didn’t like the Fun Factory muscling in on his territory, he might have taken action to make it go away.”

“Good info,” Erik said. “I’m just not sure how to put all the pieces together.”

Erik polished off his coffee and set the cup aside reluctantly before heading out to the front to give Susan a break. During the off-season, Trinkets kept shorter hours, although unlike some stores and restaurants, they remained open, at least for this first year. Erik wanted to use the time to build up the blog and website.

He figured if he was going to be working online he might as well keep the store open for walk-ins, appointments, and going through new purchases from estate sales and auctions.

Erik was busy adding some vintage Christmas ornaments to the inventory when the bell over the door jangled. He looked up as Holden Carr strolled into the shop. Erik hoped he controlled his expression, feeling surprised and dismayed.

What is he doing here?

“Hi. Welcome to Trinkets. How may I help you?”

Carr flashed a high-wattage smile that must have been a hit in his Broadway days. “I just happened by and wanted to look around.”

“Please do. Just ask if you have any questions.” Erik hoped he sounded welcoming instead of uncomfortable.

Carr walked through the store, not touching anything. While he meandered up and down the aisles, he didn’t linger. Even casual shoppers who loved antiques tended to get “stuck” when their eyes caught an object of interest. Erik had the feeling Carr was making a show of browsing.

“Were you looking for something in particular?” Erik asked from behind the counter.

“Do you carry any occult objects?” Carr asked off-handedly like he didn’t really care, but his body language told Erik that the newcomer was paying close attention.

“You mean like Ouija boards?” Erik replied, deliberately misunderstanding.

Carr laughed and shook his head. “No—real stuff. Amulets. Chalices. Grimoires.”

“Can’t say we get much call for that sort of thing,” Erik lied. Anything with real power either went to Alessia for safekeeping or, for malicious items, waited in the safe until Erik’s contact from Charleston could come collect them to be neutralized. Locals knew to look for anything witchy at Alessia’s store, in the back room.

“I would have thought strange things might turn up in a place like Cape May,” Carr said, still giving the shelves a desultory glance. “After all, it’s one of the most haunted towns on the coast.”

“As you can see, we get a lot of timepieces, housewares, decorative items, and small furnishings.” Erik tried to remain nonchalant. “We only handle larger pieces if they’re truly unique. What we stock generally comes from estate sales in the greater Cape May area.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Carr turned to glance over his shoulder at Erik, who couldn’t decide whether he was being toyed with or interrogated.

“I think everyone’s seen things they can’t explain,” Erik answered. “I try to be open minded.”

With a sincere questioner, Erik would have been more straightforward, but he felt like he and Carr were playing a semantic game of cat and mouse.

“Didn’t Cape May have a lot of film production here long ago?” Carr asked.

Erik nodded. “Back in the 1950s and early sixties there were a lot of movies made here. Mostly beach comedies, but some suspense flicks as well. They’re pretty good if you can find them on disk. The old theater in town was just refurbished too.”

Monty’s ghostly partner, Jon Richards, had been a stunt actor in those movies before his murder, so Erik had heard a lot of stories about those years.

“You ever hear of a place called the Commodore Wilson?” Carr seemed to watch Erik for his reaction. “My great-grandfather worked for the guy who owned it at the time.”

“I’ve heard of it, but it was gone long before I came here,” Erik replied. “It must have been quite a showplace in its time.”In addition to being haunted, cursed, and built on top of a malicious nature spirit.

“It’s always sad when those old landmarks go away,” Carr said. “You ever get any memorabilia from them?”

“Sometimes. That sort of thing gets snatched up by collectors as soon as it hits the shelf,” Erik answered, which was mostly true. He wondered what Carr was fishing for.

He could be legitimately curious about the Commodore Wilson because of family ties. Could he possibly know about the Fun Factory? Almost no one remembers it. Two relatives of the Fun Factory’s crooked manager show up in town, and one ends up dead. What’s the connection? And do those poker chips have anything to do with it?

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