Page 9 of Last Resort

“Like I said, if I remember anything about that place, I’ll let you know,” Robert replied. “Watch your back. This stuff is never simple.”

Erik ended the call and sat for a moment staring at his darkened phone. He finished his now-cold coffee, lost in thought about the objects he had handled from the box.

He might not be able to find out who sent the poker chips, but clearly a story lay behind them and some sort of tragedy. Loose ends and unfinished business often ended up biting him in the ass—in an extremely unsexy way.

“Everything go okay?” Susan asked when Erik emerged from the back room. One customer milled around the shop, typical now that it was the off-season.

“I’m going to drop in on Alessia.” Erik grabbed his jacket. “If she’s too busy to talk, at least I can stretch my legs and clear my head.”

“Have fun,” Susan replied. “And I want to hear all about what you saw from the stuff in the box when you get back.”

Alessia Mason owned the Spirit of the Sea gift shop, not far from Trinkets. A brisk wind came off the ocean, and Erik turned up his collar against the chill.

This was his first fall in Cape May. Atlanta didn’t really have “tourist season” in the same way as a beachfront resort town. In Atlanta, a steady calendar of conventions, sporting events, concerts, and more meant visitors year-round, without an off time. By comparison, Cape May seemed quiet, even a bit sleepy, when the vacationers headed home. Some shops and restaurants cut back on hours or closed for part of the winter while the owners presumably headed for warmer climes.

Erik hoped that his blog and the relationships he cultivated with decorators and collectors would keep the shop in the black during the winter. Business had grown throughout the summer and so far remained steady. He crossed his fingers that a little ingenuity and marketing know-how would help him ride out the quieter months.

He felt a faint frisson of magic when he walked into the gift shop, not surprising since Alessia was a powerful witch. The store offered ocean-themed artwork and jewelry along with crystals, meditation aids, and books on Wicca and other paranormal subjects.

Alessia was finishing up a sale with a customer. Erik hung back, not wanting to interrupt, and browsed the shop’s ever-changing selection of upscale gifts. He was already thinking ahead to Christmas and coming up with a list of ideas for Ben.

The door closed, and Alessia looked up from the register. “Hello, Erik. I’ve been expecting you.”

Alessia Mason’s olive skin and black hair played up her dark brown eyes, part of her Sicilian heritage. Like Erik, she was a transplant to Cape May, where she had married into one of the town’s old, influential, and wealthy families. That might have afforded her an entrance to the Cape May business community and social scene, but she built the local coven all by herself.

She flipped the sign on the door to “Closed” and led Erik to the back room, where she made them cups of her special tea blend. Just the smell as it steeped eased Erik’s tight shoulders and soothed the tension he hadn’t realized he carried.

“I had a dream about you and a card game gone wrong.” Alessia brought two steaming mugs to the table and settled into her chair. “So, spill. What’s going on?”

Erik sighed and took in a deep breath of the fragrant tea. “I’m hoping you can tell me.” He recapped what he knew about the poker chips and the mysterious Fun Factory.

“I tried the search engines,” Erik confessed. “There wasn’t much. I found a couple of mentions but few details. Robert Pettis thought it was in Sewell’s Point but didn’t know anything else off-hand.”

“If you want to know about the Fun Factory, Jaxon’s your best bet. My interest is the resonance of the chips. Violence, maybe a shooting, possibly a murder. Seems extreme for an amusement park.”

“I’ve heard about some of the old-fashioned rides they had at those early parks,” Erik replied, pausing to take a sip. “No safety inspections, so they were pretty wild. But what I saw seemed more like a casino than a midway.”

“I’m wondering about the timing on the chips showing up now,” Alessia said. “They’ve obviously been around for a long while.”

Erik shrugged. “Someone might have been cleaning out an older relative’s house or found them tucked in the bottom of a drawer. It happens.”

Alessia gave him a look. “For those with supernatural gifts, very little occurs by chance. Especially since we’re coming up on the Equinox. It’s one of the dates with a strong pull on the genius loci.”

“You mean the ‘ghost’ of the Commodore Wilson?”

She nodded. “Yes, although ‘ghost’ isn’t quite the right term. Maybe ‘essence’ or ‘resonance.’ Or given its energy, perhaps ‘stain’ is closer,” she added with a curl to her lip.

“If there’s a link somehow between the poker chips and the Commodore Wilson, maybe that’s why they’ve turned up now,” Erik theorized. “There was also a gold-rimmed small plate with the hotel’s monogram.”

“Hmm. The plate would have been for the VIP dining room. I agree that there could be a link with the chips and the hotel. Although as you noted, the chips are old, and whatever happened occurred long ago. Interesting that it’s waited until now to manifest.”

Erik fought the urge to squirm in his chair. “I’d argue for coincidence, but I know you don’t believe in that either.”

“Clearly not. But I do believe in synchronicity, alignment, syzygy,” Alessia replied.

“Isn’t that last one when planets line up?” Erik knew he had heard the strange term somewhere.

She nodded. “Exactly. Maybe someone brought the chips back to Cape May, or they were dormant throughout the cycles that the old hotel’s genius loci waxed and waned. All that’s different this year, is you.”

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