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NOTE: These stories are
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Arbiter
A "Kendrick" Story
By
Jennifer Brozek
Start at the beginning of the Kendrick series

Karen stared at the gargoyle figurine. It was in a sleeping pose next to her computer monitor. Last night, it was in a sitting position over by the printer. Yesterday, she found it sitting on the kitchen countertop. That last one had prompted the call to Susan that included a very surreal conversation.

"Well, what do baby gargoyles eat?"

"Meat and junk food usually."

"Meat's better for them?"

"I don't know. I've never seen a fat gargoyle. Not around here. I know some of them have a real sweet tooth."

"Ok. But, would he rather have raw meat or cooked meat?"

"Have you asked him?"

"Um. No. I've never seen him move. I just know he does."

"Maybe you should ask him."

"What if he answers?"

"I'd listen to him. Cranky gargoyles are a handful."

She picked it up and looked at it. "Sebastian? Would you talk to me? I'd like to know what you want to eat." The figurine sat unmoving in her hand. No sign of life. "Please?" Still nothing. Maybe it really was sleeping. It seemed to be active only when she was not around. Maybe it was a night owl like her. She really needed a lesson in Gargoyles 101 even if part of her still wanted to deny their existence.

Her ringing cell phone distracted her from her thoughts on the care and feeding of gargoyles. She was surprised to see the name "REGINALD" in the caller ID window.  "Hello?"

"Hello Karen."

It was him.  "Hello, Reginald. I see you aren't 'unknown' anymore."

"Yes. I know. I thought it would be more friendly to appear like this now that you know who I am."

"Do I?"

"You know what I say is the truth."

"Yes... but who are you? Really. Who are you?"

He paused for a long time. "I'm someone who cares for the people of Kendrick. I do what's best for them and for me."

"Are you magical like the Order and like the people at Bacchanalia and Susan with her gargoyles?"

"Yes. You could say that."

For a moment, she did not know how to respond. She had not expected him to be so bluntly honest. "Oh. Um. Are you at war with the Order?" It was the only question she could think to ask.

"No. Not really. I don't agree with their goals most of the time where it concerns the city. But, it's not war. There is a give and take in the city. Sometimes, they forget that and I need to step in. We all have rules we have to follow."

"What rules? Are you going to tell me about these rules?"

"Yes. A little bit at a time. That's why I called you. I need your help."

"Color me shocked. I'm going to assume it doesn't involve attempted murder or immediate theft since you don't sound too rushed."

He chuckled. "That is correct. Two people have requested arbitration in a matter very important to them. I would like you to be my representative in this.  Listen to both of them and then make a decision for one or the other."

"Arbitrate what? Why can't you do it?"

"It's a dispute over the ownership of an artifact.  I'll do it with you as my representative."

"How do you know I'll make the right decision?"

"You will. I believe in you, Karen.  Go to the Colonel's Park where the chessboards are. You'll see two men sitting at the last chessboard table. Mr. Corso and Mr. Coleman. They'll be waiting for you at 3pm this afternoon."

"Just go, introduce myself, listen and judge?"

"Yes. Your decision is final. They cannot dispute it. They requested the arbitration. That is one of the rules of the city."

"What if I don't go?"

"It's your choice.  However, if you don't, two men will spend their afternoon waiting in the park for someone who never shows and their quarrel will continue. There may be some unpleasantness between them."

"Wonderful. Since you put it that way, I'll do it." She sighed.

"Thank you."

"Do you want me to call you back when I'm done?"

"No. The decision will get back to me in other ways."

"Ok. I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Thank you for everything. We will talk again soon."

She hung up the phone and realized that, for the first time, she did not end a conversation with the mysterious Reginald feeling overwhelmed and out of her depth. In truth, she was actually looking forward to this arbitration. She was curious and it would give her more insight into her city - a city she was coming to understand that she did not know at all. She reopened the phone and looked at the incoming caller history. "Reginald" was there but when she viewed the details, his incoming phone number was listed as '111-1111.'  She shrugged without ire. It had been worth a shot.

***

The walk to Colonel Kendrick Park at the center of Kendrick was beautiful.  Though there were many clouds in the sky, the sun was still shining strong. Spring had arrived.  You could see it in the budding flowers and the returning birds. The crisp air smelled wonderful.

She came to the low stone wall that circled the park. It was a clear boundary between the bustling downtown city center and the quiet forested park.  Karen loved the way the city government insisted on keeping the city center for the smaller independent stores and restaurants around the park.  It made the whole area perfect for walking, sightseeing and picnicking, 

Following the path through the trees, she passed the very center of the Colonel's Park where a statue of the city's founder, Colonel Kendrick, stood.  All of the tourist information guides proudly proclaimed that the Colonel's statue stood at the exact center of the city.  Until recently, she had thought it nothing more than a marketing gimmick. Now, she wondered.  She also wondered if this was the park that Reginald had warned could and would take care of itself.  It made sense. Sort of. A park at the center of the city must have some sort of magical significance but how it would protect itself, she was not sure.

She reached the play area of the park designed for people to stay and relax. There was a small playground, some picnic tables, shuffle board, horse shoe pits and, finally, the main attraction, the chessboard tables.  Mr. Coleman and Mr. Corso were not hard to spot.  The two men sat away from the rest of the chess players at the last table. They sat facing each other with their hands on the chessboard. She could see the tension in them from this distance through their body language. As she walked closer, she saw that they were both handsome, each in his own way: One had a more presentable, professional sense to his dress and styling. The other was more scholarly with his tweed jacket, goatee and glasses.

Her stomach fluttered as she walked up to the table, wondering if she really could handle what was about to be put before her. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. My name is Karen." She paused, deciding not to give her last name. "Reginald sent me."

Both men stood and offered their hands to her.

"Luke Coleman." The professional man shook her hand. 

"John Corso." The scholarly man shook her hand.

They sat when she sat.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Mr. Corso asked.

Karen glanced at the other man who shrugged. "No. That's fine." She paused as both men watched her. She realized they were waiting with patient respect for her to begin. The idea of it unnerved her but she pushed those feelings aside. "We all know why we are here. I'm going to listen to you both and decide who is right. I promise that both of you will have a chance to speak.  What I would like is for each of you to give me a short synopsis of the issue. Which of you is the one bringing the complaint?"

"He is." Mr. Coleman said, gesturing. "But, you don't know anything about this situation?"

"No. Consider me your completely unbiased arbiter. I don't know either of you. I have no emotional investment in the outcome at all."

"Fine by me." Mr. Corso said. "Synopsis. A friend of mine, Sally Mayflower, gave me a gift. She died the morning I went to pick it up from her. I was barred from the house. By the time I was able to see the executor of the Will, the house had been turned over to Lucas here for liquidation. The family, who never bothered to visit, just wanted the money from the sale of her possessions."

She nodded then turned to Mr. Coleman who smiled and nodded. "All I can vouch for is the fact that the house, and all its possessions, were turned over to me by Mrs. Mayflower's executor at the request of the deceased's relatives. There was no notice that any item in the house belonged to someone else. No bill of sale."

"Gifts don't have a bill of sale!"

"There's no proof that she gave it to you. Not even a gift tag."

"Gentlemen, please." Karen cut off the well practiced argument before it could begin again. Both men continued to bristle but said no more. "Who has the item?"

"I do." Mr. Colemen tapped his bag.

"May I have it?"

He hesitated then reached into the leather satchel and brought a small box about six inches by nine inches and an inch deep.  He seemed reluctant to hand it over but did so.  Karen set it on the table and opened it up, very curious.  She could see both men tense up as she did so.  She did not know what she was expecting but this was not it.  Inside, resting on a bed of cotton was an oversized card. It was stunningly beautiful.

The focus of the card was a three quarter standing profile of a severe looking man with a weak chin in white ruffled shirt, beige pantaloons, a black morning coat with lapels and knee-high boots. On his head perched a black felt hat. In one hand was riding crop; in the other was a pair of gloves. He was reaching for the set of balanced scales than sat on the table before him. Behind him was a horse field and this man, this judge, had just come in from riding a horse. She did not know how she knew this any more than she knew the coat was velvet and pantaloons were corduroy. At the top of the card was "XI" and at the bottom was the word "JUSTICE." The edges of the card were bordered in gold gilt. The colors of the card were vividly alive to the point of movement. The man's hair seemed to stir in the wind as she stared at it.

"What is it?" She asked.

"A tarot card." Mr. Coleman said.

"A tarot card? Is that all you can say? Just 'a tarot card?'" Mr. Corso said, mimicking his adversary's voice.

Karen looked up from the card and looked between the two glaring men. "Maybe one of you would like to tell me a little bit more about this particular tarot card?" It was not like any other tarot card she had ever seen.

Mr. Coleman gestured at Mr. Corso. "You do it. You'll just interrupt me if I explain its history."

"I'd be happy to." Mr. Corso said and turned his attention to Karen. "Have you ever heard of Rinaldo Todari?"

She shook her head. "No. Who is he?"

"I'm not surprised. He's an early 19th century Italian painter. The only noteworthy thing he painted was a set of tarot cards now known as the Todari Tarot.  It took him eleven years just to paint the Major Arcana. This card, Justice, is from that set and was completed on November 1st, 1814. For some reason, Mr. Todari, who started painting these cards in 1811, only completed each card on May 1st and November 1st each of the thirty-nine years it took to complete the whole set. Each card is an amazing work of art in its own right. If you pick it up, you'll note that the card is not made of paper. Each card is actually painted on a thin placard of wood."

She picked it up and turned the card on edge. She saw the decoration on the back of the card was a faded pair of entwined roses and saw that he was right; it really was wood. "How much would one of these cards go for?"

"That depends on the seller." Mr. Corso said.

"And the buyer." Mr. Coleman added.

Karen nodded and put it back in the box.  She had a better idea of why these two men were fighting over the card.  It was time to get down to business.  She had to decide which of them it actually belonged to:  the man who claimed it was a gift or the man who received it as part of an estate liquidation request.

"Technically, doesn't this card really belong to Mrs. Mayflower's inheritors?"

"No." Mr. Coleman shook his head. "Mrs. Mayflower's inheritors received a sum of money for the estate already.  They were very pleased with the settlement."

"You cannot buy this card. That is not the way these things are done."  It was clear that Mr. Corso was having a difficult time with his temper.

"Mr. Corso."  Karen lowered her voice as she did to calm hysterical people on the phone. "Did you agree to this arbitration?"

"Yes."

"Please trust that I will listen to both sides of this, including your beliefs on how the card should change hands. If I don't ask a question you believe should be answered, you will have a chance to ask the question and answer it.  Continuing to argue is not going to help matters. Please."

Mr. Corso nodded, looking away. He took a drag on his cigarette.

She turned back to Mr. Coleman. "When did this estate settlement go through?"

"Yesterday morning."

"When did Mrs. Mayflower die?"

"About 10 days ago."

"So, she died, had her internment, the reading of the Will and the inheritor's liquidation request in less than 10 days?"  She frowned. "Isn't that a bit fast?"

"For some, yes. For others, no."

"How did you manage to sell the Mayflower estate so quickly?"

"I didn't. I got the request. I looked over the estate. I determined its worth and offered the inheritors a sum of money. This is the normal mode of things. Most inheritors don't want to wait months or years until the entire estate sells. Money upfront soothes the passing." He smiled at her.

She nodded, trying to keep her personal thoughts about that last statement out of her head. "Alright, Mr. Coleman, why don't you tell me why you believe this card should remain with you?"  She kept half an eye on Mr. Corso to keep track of his mood and reactions.  He seemed to have calmed down after her promise to listen to both sides.

"It's very simple. Legally, the card is mine. The Executor approached me on the behalf of the inheritors. I looked at the estate, tallied the estate's worth and offered the inheritor's a lump sum which they accepted." He reached into his bag and brought out a couple pieces of paper. "Here is the written request.  Here is the bill of sale."

She looked over the documents, noting that the bill of sale was on letterhead.  'Treasures & Trinkets. One man's junk is another man's treasure.'  She tapped the letterhead. "Is this your company?"

He nodded. "I've been in the antique business for a long time. Estate sales are nothing new to me. Neither are scam artists." That last was clearly directed at Mr. Corso who continued to smoke without comment.

"Explain what you mean."

"I frequently get people coming in claiming that Aunt Mabel really wanted them to have her fine china and that it wasn't supposed to be liquidated. So, I should just give it to them. Or, buy it from them for a modest fee." He shook his head. "No, it's not uncommon. That is why all sales are final and I only work with the Executors of the Wills."

Karen nodded. "Is there anything else I ought to know?"

He shook his head. "No. The law is clear here."

"Why did you agree to this arbitration, Mr. Coleman?"

"Let's just say that no one liked where this disagreement was headed and the Master of the City was the logical choice to put an end to it without anymore unpleasantness."

Karen forced her next question, 'Who is the Master of the City?' to the back of her throat.  Instead she coughed to cover things up. That answer was clear.  He was talking about Reginald. She would talk about it with him the next time they spoke and insist on a way to contact him when she needed to. She turned her attention to the other man. "Mr. Corso, why do you believe this Todari Tarot card belongs to you?"

He lit up another cigarette.  "The short answer is because Sally gave it to me.  However, since you are already aware of my claim but not familiar with the Todari Tarot, allow me to explain some things about it that Mr. Coleman has neglected to mention. The first of which is that the Todari Tarot is not to be sold. Ever.

"In 1841, when Rinaldo gave his set of tarot cards to his apprentice, he did so as a gift with the warning that the cards were special. Each one was a gift in its own right and the deck could not be sold. To do so would diminish it. Since then, even though the deck has been broken up, no one buys a Todari Tarot card. They are bartered for services or given as gifts. That is the way it is done.  To buy even one card would make it less. Would make the whole deck less."

"Make it less how? I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"From the research I've done, it seems that each card required some sort of sacrifice. We think.  Each card was modeled after a specific place or person.  From what I've determined, this card was modeled after an English judge, Christopher Howland, who had been on holiday in Italy at the time. He died on November 10th, 1814. Just nine days after the Justice card was completed. For the cards I confirmed the models for; each died or went into a coma shortly after the completion of the card. I believe they gave their lives willingly. A gift. To sell a card would lessen that sacrifice." He had leaned towards her so she could smell the cigarette smoke on him.  It was slightly sweet and reminded her of Chai tea.

"Oh, come on!" Mr. Coleman interrupted. "You don't believe that and even if you do, that's not the reason you want the card."

"Mr. Coleman, please. You had your say. Let Mr. Corso have his." Karen pulled herself up. In a way, she was glad for the interruption. She had been more than halfway to believing Mr. Corso's story about the cards supernatural past.

"I'm sorry but I can't just sit by and let him lie to you. He is one of the leading Todari Tarot card collectors! That's why he's so hot for it."

"That's enough." She let an edge of her irritation show in her voice.  She had wanted to hear the rest of the story but, she did have a job to do. She turned back to Mr. Corso.

"It's true. I am the leading collector. I've worked half my life to gather all of these cards. My goal is to collect the full set and ensure that they remain a set while I'm living. But, I'm not lying about Sally giving me the card." He took a drag on his cigarette. "I will admit that I made her acquaintance only because I knew she had it. But, I've known it for years and I've been her friend for years. We used to have coffee together once a week at Kahili Coffee House. We'd been doing that for years, too. She knew I wanted the card and she knew it had to be a gift. It was hard for her to give it up."

"Why do you think she gave it to you now?"

"I think she realized she was at the end of her life and she wanted to give it to me. To tell you the truth, I had stopped asking about it many months ago. She was such a wonderful woman. She had led such a full and interesting life.  Two weeks ago, she said to me, 'John, I've decided. You can have the Todari Justice card. You've earned it, spending so much time with this old woman.'  I protested, 'Sally Mayflower, don't you dare tease me.  Besides, I gave up on that a while ago.'  'I know, but you still kept seeing me anyway.' 'Because you're so lovely.'  'Pshaw.' She said, 'Now you're the one teasing.  I'm not teasing you. I'm giving you the card.  Come by the house on Friday and get it.'  'Are you sure?' I asked.  She said, 'Yes, I'm sure. I give it to you with my whole heart because a gift given any other way isn't a gift at all.'  She meant it, too."

That last bit about the gift given with the whole heart struck Karen.  It jarred a memory loose and she realized she knew who Sally Mayflower had been: her third grade teacher. Mrs. Mayflower had been everyone's favorite teacher. She could still hear the woman's voice as she answered a child's question on whether or not she really meant what she said in her Valentine's Day card to them. 'Of course, my dear.  I meant every word then and still do.  It was a gift from my heart and a gift not given with the whole heart isn't a gift at all.'

Mrs. Mayflower had been the kind of teacher who listened to the kids and had done what was right and not just what was expected. She had been known to bend the rules if she judged that the situation needed it.  Karen nodded to him.  "Is there anything else you want me to know?"

He shook his head.

She looked at Mr. Coleman. "Last thoughts from you?"

"Just to remember that I did not steal the card. It came into my possession fair and square. The law stands behind me."

She glanced at Mr. Corso.

"History stands behind me."

She nodded. "I'm going to take a quick walk to think. Please wait here."  She saw them both tense up again when she picked up the box containing the card but neither of them said a word.  She walked towards the playground.  She played over the previous conversation in her head. In one point of view, it was clear that Mr. Coleman was the rightful owner. In the other, it was Mr. Corso. She could see why this had come to arbitration. No matter what she decided, someone was going to walk away angry.

"Karen?" The man's vaguely familiar voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Karen Wilson?"

She turned and saw a young man standing there, looking at her expectantly. For a brief wild instant, she wondered if it was Reginald. Almost immediately, she dismissed the notion. "Yes. May I help you?"

He smiled. "You don't recognize me, do you? People only remember the blue uniform."

"Oh! Officer Hauberk. Hello."

"Just David, please. I'm not on duty." He gestured to his jeans and t-shirt. "What are you doing here?"

She looked over at the chess table and saw that both men were on their feet, watching.  She realized they thought she either might be in danger or about to steal the card.  She held a calming hand out to them, gesturing for them to sit again.  "I'm, um, deciding something."

David looked over at the men at the table. "Oh? Deciding between two suitors? It's not very fair of them to do that to you."

"No. No. It's nothing like that. I don't have a suitor." She felt the blush rise to her cheeks.

"In that case, if you're almost done, would you like to take a walk and maybe get some dinner?"  He looked away self-consciously. "You know. To talk. Completely off the record and all that." He glanced back at her. "I've been a beat cop a long time. I've seen some pretty interesting things. Things that I don't always report. I thought, maybe we could talk about that some."

She tilted her head and smiled. She realized that her mind had already made its decision and had been waiting for the rest of her to catch up. "I'd like that. Let me go finish this up."

He nodded and sat on a swing to wait for her.  She walked back to the two men. "I've made my decision. Mr. Coleman, you're right in the fact that the normal law stands behind you on this matter.  However, I think that by agreeing to the arbitration, you acknowledge that this was not a matter for the normal law. Mr. Corso, you're right in the fact that a gift does not come with a price tag, but there was no other indicator that what you were saying was the truth.  But, as it turns out, I knew Mrs. Mayflower many years ago. She was once my teacher. I had forgotten until Mr. Corso repeated a past conversation with her to me. As Mr. Corso did not know that and neither of you were aware that I would be sent in to arbitrate, I am confident that it was not a set up on Mr. Corso's part.  Because of this, I judge in favor of Mr. Corso. It is clear to me that he did have a friendly relationship with Mrs. Mayflower and she did willingly give him the Todari Tarot card as a gift."

Mr. Coleman smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Is that your final judgment?"

"It is."

He nodded and stood. "I did agree to this and I will abide by it. I acknowledge the Todari card belongs to Mr. Corso." He paused. "I wish it could have been another way but that's the way the cookie crumbs.  Please feel free to come by Treasures & Trinkets sometime, Karen. No hard feelings."

"Thank you. I will."

They shook hands and Lucas Coleman walked away without looking back. She turned to Mr. Corso and handed him the box with the card. "I believe this belongs to you."

He accepted the box with a genuine smile. "Thank you, Karen. So very much.  If you want, come by the Teller's Fortune, my store, and I'll show you some of the other cards I've collected. Tell you the stories I know of them."

"Alright. That would be nice. Are the rest as pretty as that one?"

"Yes and more in some cases."  He put out his cigarette. "Karen, I'd be careful about going to Lucas's store. He's not a nice man and, sometimes, there are strings attached to his wares."

"Are you a nice man, John Corso?"

"Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. Right now, yes."  He offered her his hand. "Thank you for listening."

She shook it. "You're welcome."  She watched him walk away in the opposite direction that Mr. Coleman had gone.

"Well, that was interesting.  Can I ask what that was all about?" David walked up beside her.

"No. Not right now.  I think I need some caffeine."

"OK, Miss Wilson, after you."  He held a hand out towards the path.

She smiled at him as they started walking towards one of her favorite cafés. "You know, I did try to call you a couple days ago. All the circuits were busy."

"That's strange. Let me give you my personal number once we get to wherever it is we're going."

"Dana Street Café."

"Good choice. So, why were you calling me?"

"Doesn't matter now."

"Alright. But, now you have me curious and a curious David is a dangerous thing."

"I'll keep that in mind." She smiled at him.

***

Elsewhere...

"Praetor, I just got off the phone with Lucas Coleman. The arbitration didn't go his way. He's pretty upset about it." His secretary and sometimes lover, Nightshade, interrupted his thoughts.

"We did everything we were supposed to do. We got the Mayflower Will read, convinced the Executor to go to Coleman and assisted in convincing the Mayflower heirs to settle at that generous price that we fronted part of the money for."

"I realize that but, as Lucas pointed out, he fulfilled his part of the bargain by getting us the original map of Kendrick in order get the Todari card."

"Does he want the map back?"

"No. But, he says we now owe him and owing a creature like him is not a good thing for the Order."

"Fine. Fine. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. As long as he doesn't want the map back."

"There's one other thing. He said the arbiter was a dark haired girl named Karen who seemed curiously ignorant to be the representative of the Master of the City. Either that or she was playing a good game."

"The Wilson girl was the arbiter? Representing of the Master of the City? Are you sure?"

"He seemed sure."

"Good. That's all the confirmation we need. Find a way to get close to her. Use someone outside the Order. Try and make it someone she already knows."

"Yes, sir."

"I have work to do." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and returned his thoughts to the objects before him: an engraved plate of the backside of a one dollar bill, an antique map of the city of Kendrick, a set of iron keys and a large tome-like book.

Story by Jennifer Brozek, Copyright 2006
Photo by Rory Clark, Stopped Motion Photography, Copyright 2006