A Ghost of Brother Johnathan's by Elizabeth Eagan-Cox Page A

I can plug them into the sound analyzing application on my computer.”
I drummed my fingers lightly on the side of my cocoa mug. I had a plan of query and I hoped it wasn’t too late to ask Marta. I cleared my throat and spoke up.
“Marta, not to be too nosy,” I smiled, hoping to diffuse my need to interrogate, “I would like to know why you were willing to part with that beautiful mirror?”
Marta sighed and placed her mug on the table beside her chair. She looked up at me and said, “It’s huge. It was far too large for the walls here in my home. I suppose I could have offered it to the pizza restaurant, it would be an authentic addition to it. I was leaning toward doing just that, when out of the blue this antique shop owner calls me and wants to know if I have any pieces from the original tavern that I’d like to sell. He made a pleasant argument in favor of selling, said he offered to purchase it or he’d put it up for auction, taking a percentage off the top for his seller’s fee. All that I agreed to was to allow him to see the mirror, no strings attached. We made an appointment, but he never showed and never called to cancel. So, I just left the mirror where it was. Good grief, it took Ozzy and his two nephews the better part of an afternoon to get the darn thing out from behind the bed down there, the same bed we had the mirror propped up against.”
Marta’s explanation spurred Luke’s interest. He attempted to ask her questions in a casual tone, but I could tell it was the detective in him that was doing the questioning.
“Marta, did the antiques dealer ever mention how he knew to contact you? They usually work off of a lead.”
“Oh, it was the antique shop in town, at least that is what he said. I never checked on it.”
“And, did he give you a referral telephone number for you to call him?” Luke asked.
“Not exactly. Because the date for his visit was sometime away, he mailed his business card to me. I still have it. Just a minute.” Marta left the room, and disappeared down the hall.
I nudged Luke. “Excellent follow-up,” I whispered.
Marta returned and gave Luke the card. “Might as well keep it,” she said.
Then Luke did the most peculiar thing. He didn’t so much as glance at the card and instead he took out his wallet and slipped the card inside. “Thanks.”
I turned to Marta and asked, “Down in your basement, are there more items, furnishings and such that were original to Jonathan Rupp or his tavern?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure there are, that bed for one, it was Jonathan’s. It needs a lot of restoration work done to it. The wood is good and sound, no termite issues, probably because it was made from the redwood taken out of the local forest. Other aspects, such as the metal fixings have rusted away, and then there’s the problem with getting a mattress to fit. I’d have to have one custom made, because the bed was custom-sized to Jonathan.”
“Any other items of Jonathan’s down there?” I asked.
“There’s an old trunk behind the bed, it has a collection of some of his personal belongings. No clothing or anything intimately personal. Jonathan made a living in other ways than being a clown and tavern keeper. After he survived the shipwreck, he was still young, a teenager, remember. A married couple in Crescent City took him in. He took up the trade of the husband, who was well known and very successful as a poster artist. Though Jonathan’s work wasn’t so much with the large advertising posters, he specialized in their miniature versions, the trade cards and circus cards that were in use in that era.”
Small cards? Now, this was interesting . “Just how small are those cards?” I asked.
“They vary in sizes, but are much the same size as playing cards and contemporary business cards. I have some, just a minute.” Marta got up, and again she disappeared down the hall.
I nudged Luke, and asked “Have you ever heard of these type of cards?”
“Yeah.