29. Back To Professor Rivers

Kathy was still practicing once a week with Deborah at the fight club, and they occasionally went for coffee after the session – it would be a perfect time to ask more about the strange rituals around the dagger. Deb was a little eccentric, but she enjoyed her company and fervently hoped her new friend was not involved in the murders. She was sure Grant would be glad to talk more about the dagger, but before Grant she wanted to go back to Dr. Rivers, to Ken, she reminded herself and grinned. She thought about Brampton’s admiration for Linda MacDugon’s computer skills, and grinned some more. She didn’t need any fancy software to do her work, just good old-fashioned research and people skills.

By mid-morning she had set up a call with Rivers for 3:30 that day. She rang at 3:28 and he answered promptly. “Kathy, how nice to hear from you again. What can I do for you?”

    “Nice to hear your voice, too,” she said sweetly and imagined him preening. “I have some more questions about the history of the Stormont dagger, I know it’s short notice but do you have time for a chat now?”

His enthusiasm was obvious. “Not a problem. It’s a real pleasure to talk about history, any history, to someone who is genuinely interested. In fact, it’s what we old professors dream about.”

She rolled her eyes, but kept the smile in her voice. “Oh yes, I’m fascinated by this macabre tradition. I want to know more about how the ceremony unfolds. Is there a set procedure, a ritual to follow? Does one do things in a certain order? Just what goes on in the whole process?”

For the next hour, Ken walked Kathy through the whole ceremony, the physical preparations, the most propitious environment, variations and rules, all the details. The ceremony was based on disciplines from hundreds of years ago, when the world was very different. No doubt it had been tweaked over the centuries, but the old ways were the foundation of the rituals, and certain things had to be done just so.

Kathy’s head was spinning with colourful stories, meandering detours and unrelated anecdotes when Ken grew silent. “Of course, we have not talked about what happens if the lady rejects the man. Did you know he has the option of killing her?” He listened for her reaction, but all he heard was a soft, “Oh!”

“I have to go to a class now,” he said. “But if you call me Friday, I’ll tell you all about it. I hadn’t meant to talk for so long, but I was enjoying myself. Sorry, but I really must go.”

Kathy curled her hands into fists and pounded her knees in silent frustration. “No worries,” she said brightly. “I’ll get back to you Friday or beginning of next week.” She was careful not to let him sense how desperate she was to hear about that killing option.

30. Deb Gets Serious

Sweat was running down her face, it was the hardest workout yet and she was in a certain amount of pain, but as she rose gingerly from the mat, she told herself it was worth it. Since joining the club she’d lost five pounds and certainly had more energy.

She and Deb had sparred last, they bowed to each other at the end then Deb broke the formality by trilling in a fake, posh accent, “Shall we have a nice cup of tea, darling?”

Kathy laughed. “Oh let’s! And I wouldn’t mind talking to you about those crazy ceremonies around the Stormont dagger. Do you mind?”

“Hell, no.” Deborah was back to her own voice. “I’m flattered you would ask, but can’t Gordon Stormont can tell you that stuff?”

Kathy explained he was away and she was eager to finish the draft of her article on the death of Shaye.

After Deb’s shower and her usual shouted conversation from behind the curtain, they made their way to their regular Tim Horton’s coffee shop. It was Kathy’s turn to buy the teas, while Deb grabbed a bench by the window.

“Ah thanks, Kath, it’s good tea, but I kind of wish we were drinking wine.” They both liked a glass of wine now and then, but after such a punishing workout, hot tea was the wiser choice. “So, you want to know about the ceremony. The whole story? It’s long and weird, or is there a particular part you’re curious about?”

Kathy pretended to think. “Gordon told me about the basic ceremony, how a gentleman presents the dagger, the lucky lady accepts it and holds it a certain way and then they’re officially betrothed. I heard that if she doesn’t want to marry him, she refuses to take the dagger, and that means she’s rejecting him. But then I heard another part that he has the right to attack her if she rejects him?” She feigned confusion. “What’s that about?”

“It’s interesting,” said Deborah mildly. “Part of it is oral history, passed down in the family, but some of it is actually written down. I’ve heard there’s a really old document somewhere, one of those illuminated things that monks did, with hand painted pictures and gold leaf and everything. I’ve never seen it, I’ve only seen the boring modern typed-up version, but, yes, I can tell you the written down rules.”

Deborah took a sip of tea and gathered her thoughts. Kathy was watching for signs of discomfort, something that would lead to suspicion, but she had to admit she couldn’t really read Deborah.

It seemed as if Deb was reading her thoughts, though. “Sorry, I’m just thinking and trying to remember. It’s been a while since I even thought about the story.” Kathy doubted that. “Actually, the Stormont dagger is one of the reasons I got involved with the club and learning combat knife skills.”

She took another sip of tea, sat back and spread her arms along the top of the booth looking straight at Kathy. She’s deciding how to say something, Kathy thought.

When she spoke, there was an almost pleading note in her voice, as if she knew what she was saying was not quite right. “Remember these rituals were set up hundreds of years ago, when men totally dominated their women. Women were like chattels. They rarely owned anything, unless they were very smart or had influence with a powerful man. Their wealth went to their husbands, and they had very little say what they did with it.”

She paused, then went on in a rush, “Okay, I’m just going to jump right in. If a woman rejected a Stormont man, he could choose to release her or take her life.” She paused again and Kathy made a strangled little noise. “I know, it’s brutal, eh? But back then they seemed to think it was romantic, even noble, like if they couldn’t have the woman, they thought was their one true love, they wouldn’t let anyone else have her. There’s a clue right there, they wanted to possess her, so they’d rather kill her.”

Deborah stopped to judge the effect on Kathy, who widened her eyes and murmured “Jesus Christ. Go on.”

“This next part sounds awful, but there are still a lot of crazy religious rituals done around the world today, most of them against women of course,” Deb said through clenched teeth. “You can just about understand a crime of passion, but if a Stormont guy chose to kill a woman for rejecting him, he was obliged to follow precise guidelines, which is even more fucked up. He had to hold her at the back of her neck and pull the right side of her body against his so she couldn’t raise her arm. Then he stabbed her between the second and third ribs on the left side to drive the dagger straight into her heart.” She shook her head sadly.

For someone so enamored of knives and rites and rituals, Deb seemed genuinely disturbed that there was a “right” way to stab someone. Or was she reliving the moment? She put down her tea. “Okay, the next part is interesting. They’re holding her neck, they’ve driven the dagger into her heart, then they’re supposed to pull the knife out “full smoothe and quick.” That’s smooth with an “e”, I remember that’s how it was written. They don’t say why, that’s just what’s written down in the book. And then someone later told me that lets the blood escape fast which means she dies faster which, I guess, is a blessing.”

Who the hell does Deb know that has tips for how to make someone die faster? Kathy wondered.

“Now here’s the kicker,” said Deb, on a roll now. “Having killed the woman he supposedly loves and can’t bear to live without,” she made a gagging noise, “or more honestly killed a woman he can’t bear to allow to go on living, he is supposed to lay her down gently and hold her till she dies. The old woman I talked to about this suggested that was to force the man to face what he’d done, that they can’t just be pissed off, stab her and run away. They’re supposed to understand there is honor involved and the rules, the code, says they’re honor-bound to stay and hold her and watch the life seep out of her.” She snorted. “Because that will make them think twice before choosing to kill her. Do you think? I don’t. Anyway, all the honor crap doesn’t help the woman after the fact.”

Kathy was taking it all in. She had the odd feeling that this stuff contained a sort of feminine logic. Perhaps somewhere in the dagger’s history a woman with a knowledge of anatomy had added a part to the ceremony – a quick death part.

“Then there’s the curse,” Deb was saying. “If the man stabs in the wrong direction, or doesn’t hold her properly as she dies, or if the woman actually escapes – nice to know they took account of that possibility – or if she takes too long to die,” she rolled her eyes in disgust, “the man is cursed. He is cursed and his family is cursed and all his enterprises will fail forever.” She emphasized the last word, then laughed, “to which I say GOOD!”