“Yes, there is one in the barn,” Pacal replied. “I am still amazed that your uncle discovered how to use the two together.”
“What do you mean?” Anlon asked.
Pacal took another large gulp of the scotch and ruminated, “Ah, I will miss sitting here with Dr. Devlin talking of ancient legends. He was a master on the subject of legends. He studied any text, scroll, glyph, oral histories or drawings he could find. He stored it all away in his mind.
“Once we discovered the Story Stone was magnetic, your uncle sat in the barn for hours just thinking. Something caused him to recall an old Olmec legend.
“In that legend, as told by a scribe who recorded the oral history of an elder Olmec leader, the storyteller wrote that men dressed like fish came out of the water and visited the Olmecs. The ‘fish men’ touched two stones together and showed the Olmecs how to farm the land.
“Other archaeologists and anthropologists thought this legend was an allegory, as they judge many other legends. But your uncle wondered, what if it’s a literal translation? That led him to search his archive of notes and texts from other East and West legends for similar tales…and he found them.
“Somehow from these stories, he reasoned the second stone must be a magnet since the Story Stone itself is magnetic. So we tried magnets with the Story Stone. In fact, we tried many different magnets of varying strength and size but none worked.
“We were disappointed but your uncle would not let go of his hunch. He was convinced that magnetism was the key to unlocking the stone. So, he shut himself away in the barn to think. Again, he asked himself, ‘Is this story a literal translation?’. If it was, then there must be a second kind of magnetic stone.
“He asked Mr. Matthew and me to find out if there were other stones recovered at the sites where Story Stones were found that looked circular like a hockey puck, but were smaller and exhibited unusual magnetic properties.
“It took weeks of searching, but we finally located such a stone in an antiquities storeroom of a museum in London. To the curators, it was a piece of little value and so they sold it to Dr. Devlin for a small amount.
“When he brought the Port Stone into the barn, the Story Stone was on a counter. It started to vibrate. The closer he brought the Port Stone, the more violent the Story Stone shook. At last, when he picked the Story Stone up and rotated it so that the circular depression lined up with the Port Stone, the two stones snapped together with a loud clap.”
Anlon was speechless, rapt in fact. He sat with mouth open and hands grasping his knees firmly. “So,” he implored, “what happened then, and what about the other two depressions on the backside edges of the stone?”
Pacal nodded appreciatively, “Very good, Dr. Anlon. Yes, the other contours are very important. At first when the two stones snapped together, nothing happened. It was very disappointing. Dr. Devlin was crushed, although he did not know what would happen when the two stones met. It wasn’t until he was handling it, flipping it this way and that trying to understand the purpose of the two magnetic stones locked to each other that the Heavens acted.
“Dr. Devlin held the Story Stone in front of him and rotated it so that the orientation aligned with the etching on the front. This caused his fingers to grasp the stone on the sides, touching the inside of the depressions. When he did, he cried aloud and trembled. Mr. Matthew and I were afraid he was hurt somehow. He stood trembling for several seconds before he looked at us and called out, ‘Unbelievable.’ ”
As Pacal reached that point in his recounting of events, Anlon leapt off the sofa and stabbed a finger in the air, “Electrical impulse. The fingers triggered the magnetic stones like a start button. Oh my God, that’s astounding. How was such a feat possible?”
“Exactly! Well done, Dr. Anlon,” Pacal applauded, “Your uncle chose wisely to pass his research on to you.”
“So what actually happened, did a video project? Did audio sound out?” Anlon queried in almost a frantic manner.
“No. To Mr. Matthew and I, nothing happened. But your uncle, the holder of the Story Stone, received both video and audio images in his mind,” Pacal remarked, draining the last of the glass.
Anlon’s hands rifled through his hair. He peered over at Pebbles and Jennifer. Both were awestruck by the story, but neither understood the implications like Anlon did. An ancient civilization — these Stone Benders — more than 10,000 years ago, had transferred mental images, including video and audio, onto a stone and created a way to access those images with the simple use of another stone. The stones themselves must be very rare or the makers understood rock in a wholly different way than man today.
It would be among the greatest scientific discoveries ever made. Wow! It was too much to fathom. Anlon slumped back on the sofa and disappeared into thought.
Pebbles, who had never seen Anlon so agitated, decided it was best to let him come down on his own. While she’d been listening to Pacal, she studied the Story Stones. She asked, “Pacal, are these the only two Story Stones?”
“Why no, Miss Eleanor. There are hundreds of them spread around the world in different museums. There are likely hundreds or thousands more that lay undiscovered or were destroyed or cast away as useless pieces. What museum needs another mosaic tile or dinner plate? That’s what they think these stones are.”
“And the markings on the stones, they are labels? They indicate what story is depicted on the Stone?” Pebbles continued, picking up where her earlier conversation with Anlon had been interrupted.
“Very impressive Miss Eleanor. Yes, Dr. Devlin thought the same, but he only viewed a handful of the Story Stones so he was not absolutely sure. May I have some more scotch please?” Pacal inquired after praising Pebbles’ question.
“Of course,” she answered while pouring another two fingers for him. “And why are these two stones of different colors? Is it also some way to code or categorize the stones and are there other colors besides these two?”
Pacal nodded up and down slowly and said, “Dr. Anlon, you have a valuable assistant. She is a quick study. There are three other colors Dr. Devlin found besides these two on the table. There are sets of green, grey and dark brown stones in addition to sets of red and black like these. The black are the rarest. I’ve never personally viewed one. In fact, I did not know Dr. Devlin still had one in his possession. Where did you find it?”
Before Anlon could answer, Jennifer jumped in. Now that Pacal was relaxed, spinning tales and enjoying his scotch, it was time to ask about Devlin’s death. She said, “Mr. Flores, before we talk about the black stone, did Mr. Dobson discuss Devlin’s death with you?”
Pacal edged forward, still holding the scotch glass in one hand, and said, “You mean to ask, Detective, if Mr. Matthew thought the Professor was pushed off the mountain.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean to ask,” she responded, purposely raising her glass to take a sip of red wine as if to say, “We’re all good friends here, enjoying a drink together, we can share secrets.”
Pacal, gritting his teeth in a flash of suppressed anger, uttered, “Mr. Matthew did not need to say it. I thought it myself!”
Jennifer pressed on. “Why, Mr. Flores? Why did you both think he was pushed? Was he in some kind of trouble? Had someone threatened him? Is it anything to do with these stones and his research?”
Pacal threw back the remaining scotch in his glass and lowered his head. It was the first time the entire evening he did not directly look at the person asking him questions. Interlocking his fingers in a prayerful manner, he murmured, “We are all now in danger.”
It was not a direct answer to the questions Jennifer posed, but his macabre statement heightened her suspicions. Devlin Wilson and Matthew Dobson had been murdered by someone with a strong motive connected to the research surrounding the stones.
Earlier, when Jennifer returned to her barracks from the sojourn to Mt. Whiteface, she spoke with her Captain, Bruno Gambelli. She relayed her conversation with
Officer Keller and noted the coroner’s surprise at the extent of the injuries and Dobson’s mention of stones. She also mentioned the break-in of Anlon’s car and the theft of the will. She was still irked that Anlon hadn’t filled her in on the black stone. It might have sealed Gambelli’s concurrence, given what Jennifer found when she searched the Blueberry Ledge Trail herself.
With Pacal’s sinister words hovering in the silence, Anlon re-engaged in the discussion. He had only half listened as Pebbles and Jennifer deliberated with Pacal, but this last comment shook him. He exclaimed, “In Danger? All of us? Why?”
Spreading his hands in front of the stones, Pacal said, “They will discover you know about the stones. They will assume you are following Dr. Devlin’s trail. They will try to stop you. They will come looking for me. They will try to take the stones.”
Chills ran up Pebbles’ spine. Instinctively, she reached up and loosened the bun atop her head and allowed her silky hair to fall and cover her bare neck. Anlon noticed her motion from the corner of his eye and turned to look at her. Not only had Pebbles ditched her purple dye, the shaggy locks had been styled into a classic, albeit a little long, bob cut. If Anlon had passed her on the street in a rush, he might not have known who she was.
“Who is ‘they’ Mr. Flores?” Jennifer cut in.
Shaking his head and raising his palms to face Jennifer, Pacal said, “That I do not know. People who want the stones.”
“But Pacal,” Anlon questioned, “if there are so many other Story Stones, why do they want these stones? Dobson said there were others on the trail of Devlin’s work. If someone else has figured out what he knew, why not go public immediately? They’d be world famous for all-time.”
Jennifer answered before Pacal could speak, “Anlon, I don’t think this is about claiming scientific credit or fame.”
“What then?” a frustrated Anlon challenged. Though he was a gifted scientist, the waters they were treading in — motives for murder — were uncharted for him.
“Money,” Pebbles chimed in while warming her frigid arms with her hands. “This kind of discovery would be worth a lot, don’t you think?”
“Bingo!” Jennifer declared. “Money or greed is a very powerful motive that is at the core of many murders. There are elements of these two murders that point to money.”
“Such as?” Anlon innocently asked as he stood to light the fireplace having noticed Pebbles’ discomfort.
“I don’t want to discuss our working hypothesis right now,” Jennifer quickly responded. Actually, she didn’t want to discuss the hypothesis in front of Pacal, whom she still distrusted despite all the information he had provided. She was confident that he was hiding something and it was time to get it on the table. “There may be other motives and I don’t want to limit the field. Besides, there is more that Mr. Flores hasn’t shared with us yet that may shed more light on possible motives. Isn’t that right?”
“What do you mean to ask, Detective?” Pacal asked, showing no reaction to her accusation.
Okay, she thought, let’s dance.
“How long ago did Dr. Wilson acquire the red Story Stone?” she asked.
Pondering the question, Pacal rubbed at his chin before slowly answering, “Nearly three years ago.”
“And you said earlier that it was weeks after that before he first knew for certain what was on the stone?” Jennifer continued.
“Yes, that is what I said.”
“So the Story Stone’s contents and how to use it were known nearly three years ago,” Jennifer prodded further, stating her observation rather than asking Pacal to confirm.
Anlon was struggling to keep up with Jennifer. He was at a loss to understand why the timing of the discoveries was important. He was aware, however, that Pacal twitched for the first time during the visit. Anlon said, “Jennifer, I’m afraid I’m lost in the dig here. Why does it matter when the discoveries were made?”
Though Jennifer answered Anlon’s question, she never took her eyes off Pacal as she spoke, “The urgency of the crimes doesn’t make sense. These murders were very public, despite the fact there are no witnesses that we know of yet. That means the killer took a big risk to pull them off.
“Someone could have been on the trail near Dr. Wilson and seen him get pushed. Someone may have driven down the street when Dobson was knocked out in his driveway. There is recklessness in the crimes and that suggests there was a very recent catalyst that demanded quick action. I agree with you Mr. Flores. We are all in danger now. Perhaps you would be so kind to enlighten us as to the precise nature of the danger?”
Tapping the crystal glass with the gold ring on his hand, Pacal sat silently mulling Jennifer’s analysis. Pebbles noticed beadlets of perspiration dotting his forehead. He’s trapped, Pebbles thought, and he’s going to shut down.
It reminded Pebbles of a deposition she’d been present for during her brief stint as a first year associate. She was just a gopher in the matter, making copies, tracking down witnesses and grabbing coffee for the more senior attorneys working the case.
For most of the deposition, the critical witness had been affable, almost cocky. When the lead attorney sniffed a hole in his story, the counselor dove in hard with devastating effect. The change in the witness’ body language overtly shifted to a defensive posture. The witness’ lawyer asked for a break. The lead attorney, recognizing the tipping point, paused his questioning and turned off the recorder. He excused himself from the room and let the witness sit with his own thoughts and his lawyer. A junior attorney from Pebbles’ firm offered the man a fresh bottle of water and stepped out of the room too, motioning Pebbles to join her.
The three stood in the hallway together for about 15 minutes before the lead attorney sent the junior attorney back in the room. A moment later, the junior attorney texted the lead litigator to return, as the witness was ready to come clean.
Pebbles now watched Jennifer execute a similar strategy, though with her steely gaze riveted on him, she wasn’t giving Pacal much space to reflect on his options. Pebbles tried to break the tension by retrieving the scotch bottle from the coffee table in front of Pacal. She smiled softly at him and poured a little more in his empty glass.
As Pacal raised his head to return the smile by way of thanks, Anlon thought again, “cleverly engaging,” as he warmed himself at the fire. The fewer eyes trained on Pacal the better, understanding the purpose of Pebbles’ gesture.
Pacal sipped the scotch and loosened the tie around his neck. Jennifer’s glare continued unabated, but she did not speak.
At last, Pacal stammered, “If I, if I tell you, you will be in more danger than you are now.”
Undaunted, Jennifer pronounced, “Let me help you start Mr. Flores. The black stone is the catalyst, correct?”
Pacal nodded in assent.
“And the black stone, as you mentioned, is very different than the other Story Stone, correct?”
Again, he nodded but didn’t speak.
“If I guess correctly why the black stone is the catalyst, will you at least acknowledge I’m on the right track?” Jennifer asked, relaxing her posture and pouring herself a splash of the scotch into her now empty wine glass.
Anlon darted a look of “what does she have up her sleeve” at Pebbles who shrugged in return, a sign of mutual ignorance.
Downing the scotch in a single swallow, Jennifer mused, “Dr. Cully told me yesterday that when Dr. Wilson died unexpectedly, he was in pursuit of four new avenues that were somehow connected to his research into these stones. I think Dr. Wilson discovered those four new avenues on the black stone.”
Anlon wanted to knock his head against the wall for not seeing the connection earlier. Again he found himself impressed by Jennifer’s memory.
She continued, “I think when he started digging in, or when all three of you started digging in, it caught someone else’s attention. And that someone wanted Dr. Wilson stopped in his tracks immediately before he made any further progress.
“Of course, Dobson had to be dispatched quickly too for the same reason. Which means there is a target on your back as well, Mr. Flores.
“And now Dr. Cully is here and is poking around on his own, and the police are now involved too because our villain here was sloppy. Reckless.
“The killer wants the black stone, not because he or she needs it. My guess is the killer already knows what’s on it. No, what our unknown perp wants is to prevent anyone else from finding what the killer found on the black stone.
“How’d I do, Mr. Flores?”
Pacal’s nervous disposition ebbed and he slumped backward against the sofa. He remarked, “Kudos to you. You are close to the right path, Detective, but not on it.”
Anlon couldn’t stand it any longer. He returned to the sofa opposing the one Pacal and Jennifer shared and cried, “Whoa! Jennifer, explain to me how you sorted all that out? I barely got a chance to talk to you about the black stone.”
Pebbles offered an explanation before Jennifer could speak. “There are six rays on the black stone carving that each point to different etched objects. Two types of stones have already been discovered, so the remaining four types must be described on the black stone.”
“Way to go Eleanor!” shouted Jennifer. “That’s exactly what I thought when I looked at the stone and recalled my talk with Anlon last night.”
Pebbles smiled broadly in response to Jennifer’s praise and said, “You can call me Pebbles.”
Anlon rolled his eyes at the lovefest between the two sleuths while inside he was still playing catch up. As he continued to consider Jennifer and Pebbles’ deductions, he shared, “Devlin’s attorney told me that Devlin brought the stone to his office four days before he died. Mr. Grant said Devlin was adamant that he wanted Grant to hold it in his office safe and that he was only to give it to me if something happened to him.
“That implies he was very uncomfortable keeping it here, which does seem to point to the black stone having more value than the other ones. But if you’re right Jennifer, why didn’t the thief steal the stone when he had the chance this afternoon when he swiped the will from my car?”
Shadows of the Stone Benders (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 1) Page 10