Jon Merz - Vicarious

Curran flashed his badge. “Detective Curran.”

The man smiled. “My name is Darius Assiniya. Welcome to my store.” He frowned. “Although I trust if this were merely a shopping trip you wouldn’t have felt the need to divulge your occupation.”

His voice flowed out in a smooth and even tone. Cultured. Accented. British? No. But maybe he’d been schooled there, Curran decided.

He grinned. “I wish I only was just shopping. But I’m not.”

“What do you do for the police, Detective?”

“Homicide.”

“Has there been a murder? I heard no such thing in the news this morning.”

“A few days back. I’ve been investigating. And I came upon something I’ve been looking for some help with.”

Darius inclined his head. “If I may aid you in any way, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Curran’s hand closed around the button and he brought it out of his coat pocket. “This was recovered at the crime scene. I’ve been trying to find someone who could possibly identify it and help us get closer to the killer.”

Darius extended his hand and Curran saw how clawlike it appeared. Tendons and ligaments slithered underneath the thin covering of liver-spotted skin like snakes. Darius turned his hand over and Curran noticed the deep lines scoring his palm.

“May I?”

Curran dropped the button into his hand. He felt glad to be rid of the bone button. Somehow it didn’t feel right holding it. Like the button knew it didn’t belong to him.

Darius slid a pair of spectacle onto the bridge of his nose and peered at the button. “My, my. This is quite something.”

“We had it carbon-dated this morning.”

“And what were the results if you don’t mind me asking?”

“According to the scientist we had look at it, that bone dates back roughly 30,000 years.”

“Amazing,” said Darius. “This is quite a fine specimen.”

“You don’t seem so surprised by it. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that someone saw fit to make a button out of it?”

Darius looked at him and smiled. Christ, he’s got white teeth, thought Curran.

“I’m no longer amazed by much, Detective. Given my occupation, I see a great many things that have long since dulled my aptness to jump about with such emotion. I am used to seeing things such as this. Whereas others might recoil in horror at the thought of human bones being used for implements like a button, I am not inclined to react thus. I find it intriguing, but not so unusual.”

“You’ve seen things like this before?”

Darius peered at the button. “You said almost 30,000 years ago?”

“Yeah.”

Darius nodded. “I would think this bone most likely dates back to the Aurignacian period.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s named for an area near the foothills of the Pyrenees in France. In 1860, a group of scientists discovered rock shelters there and evidence nearby suggested that stone and bone tools had been fashioned in the vicinity. Quite fascinating, really.”

“You think this comes from that period in history?”

Darius nodded. “Along with the rock shelters, they also found cave paintings in nearby caves. One of them, if I recall my history correctly, rose to almost fifty feet — the cavern that is. On the walls they found crude paintings of animals, man, and a type of weird hybrid man/beast.”

“Man/beast?”

Darius smiled. “Well, that’s what the scientists called it. While the tools were also dated to almost 30,000 years old, some of the paintings were supposedly much older than that. And interestingly, some of the paintings had been created using a mixture of paints derived from both plants, and blood — animal and human.”

Curran shifted. “Fascinating.”

Darius held the button up. “Now, obviously, Neanderthals or whatever they call the type of fellows running around back then, weren’t familiar with the concept of a button of all things.”

“Can’t see how they would be.”

“Which means this,” Darius held up the button to the light overhead, “was probably transformed into a button at a much later date.”

“That’s what we thought.”

“Still, it’s an awfully peculiar item to have sort of laying about the house as it were. And one can’t help but wonder what sort of thought goes into making human bone into a button.”

“I’d like to know.”

Darius grinned. “I’ll bet I could fetch a large amount for this piece, though, I don’t mind telling you. Any chance I can have it when you’re done with it?”

Curran smiled. “I don’t know.” He glanced around. “I notice you’ve got a fair assortment of buttons here in the cabinet.”

“Oh yes. Most of mine are made from other materials. Certainly nothing quite so exotic as human bone. Jade, stone, whale bone, and a few other sorts as well.”

Curran looked at him. “You’ve been here long?”

“The store? Actually just over six months.”

“Where were you before that?”

“Am I under suspicion of something, detective?”

“Just trying to get acquainted.”

Darius smiled but his face told Curran he wasn’t buying it. “I was over in Saudi Arabia for a few years. I’m sure you can appreciate the transient nature of my business. I go where I can find and sell items of age. The products and clients dictate my location.”

“You do have a very traveled air about you.” Curran pointed to the nearest dagger. “What’s the history of that piece?”

“It’s a tanto. Japanese. It dates back to the 1400s, what was known as the Sengoku Jidai — the warring states period. Awfully bloody time to be alive back then. Most of the country was torn apart by civil strife. Feuding families, samurai warriors, all that lot.”

“You live around here?”

“No, just the store is here. I bought it at quite a nice price from the previous owner. But I reside elsewhere.”

Curran said nothing so Darius continued. “In Chestnut Hill.”

Curran nodded. Chestnut Hill had its fair share of wealth. Not too much, but not exactly the poor section of town, either.

“Way I figure it,” he said then, “someone must have dropped that button during the crime. I’d sure like to find the owner.”

Darius smiled. “Presumably, the owner would like to have this button back as well.”

“Exactly.” Curran pulled out a business card and slid it across the counter. “Do me a favor, will you and keep an eye out for anyone who comes asking for a replacement?”

“You really think they’ll expect it to turn up in some place like my store?”

Curran shrugged. “In this business, you never know what to expect. The strangest things happen all the time.”

Darius handed him back the button. “In that case, consider me your eyes and ears.”

“Thank you.” Curran turned and started to leave. He stopped. “Mr. Assiniya?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have your coat handy by any chance do you?”

Darius’ teeth flashed again. “I’m getting worried you suspect me of something, detective.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about human bones.”

“No more so than any other antiques dealer.”

“Actually, you’re the best so far. I’ve been to fifteen other shops today.”

“I’m surprised by that.” Darius turned and started for the back room. He stopped and looked back. “It’s all right, is it — if I get my coat for you, I mean?”

“Sure.”

He returned a second later with a gray herringbone overcoat that looked like something Sherlock Holmes would have worn. Not the big black overcoat that Lauren had described. And as Curran examined it, he could see it was missing no buttons.

He handed it back. “Thanks for putting my mind at ease.”