Cody drove across the bridge that divided Pemkowet and East Pemkowet. The river was sparkling in the sunlight, its surface ruffled with little waves. Sailboats scudded along before the breeze. Darting Jet Skis dodged the more graceful vessels, throwing up rooster tails of water behind them. Seagulls wheeled and squalled overhead. The massive form of the SS Osikiyas, once a passenger steamship that plied the Great Lakes, now a tourist attraction, maritime museum, and a venue for private functions, sat in its permanent berth, its keel resting on the riverbed, presiding benevolently over them all.

It was a very pretty picture, but today, it felt fragile. Vulnerable. I couldn’t shake the memory of the protestors. Only three or four, but if we didn’t solve this case, their numbers would grow.

“We need a break, Daisy,” Cody said in a low, quiet voice. “Before this blows up even worse.”

“I know.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Twenty-three

Thanks to Jerry Dunham’s lack of cooperation, I had some time to kill before attending Thad Vanderhei’s funeral.

After changing into a black linen pencil skirt with a cream-colored sleeveless top and a little black cardigan, I paid a visit to the Sisters of Selene occult shop to check in with the Fabulous Casimir, finding him unwontedly subdued.

No turban, no wig, no bling—not even false eyelashes. It was more than a little unnerving.

“Hey, Miss Daisy,” he greeted me, attempting to summon his usual flair and falling short of the mark. He just sounded tired. “Tell me something good, girl.”

I shook my head. “Sorry. You?”

The Fabulous Casimir shrugged. “I’ve got a whole lot of nothing, darlin’. At this point, I’m just glad I don’t have protestors on my doorstep.”

“Cas, have you ever heard of Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow?” I asked him.

He pursed his lips. “Maybe.”

I perused his shelves idly, reaching high to pick up a shrunken, tallowy claw that was labeled as a genuine Hand of Glory. Turning it this way and that, I examined it. “What was their one true thing?”

“Girl, don’t go touching that nasty thing!” Casimir swooped down to take it away from me, stretching to put it on an even higher shelf. “You of all people ought to know better than to go messing with the black arts. It is not safe for you.”

“Dr. Midnight?” I pressed him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “All I ever heard was rumors.”

“Rumors of what?”

Casimir shrugged again. “Rumors that they had a genuine attraction. Like you said, something real.” He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. “Something worth the mundanes paying to see. But that circus never came to town, and what it may have been, I cannot say. That’s all I know, Miss Daisy. I swear. You know I’d tell you otherwise.”

“How about the Masters of the Universe?” I asked.