Shadows of the Stone Benders (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 1)

by K Patrick Donoghue

  Anlon interrupted Jennifer’s train of thought. “What about Pacal?”

  “My hunch is he lied about the location of the Port Stone,” she responded. “You think so too, don’t you Pebbles?”

  “Yes I do. It makes no sense that he went through all the effort to describe how the Master Stone works, but then never demonstrated it. The more I’ve thought about his comment that he never viewed a Master Stone, the more unbelievable it sounds to me. Now that we know the Port Stone is not here, I’ve started to wonder if he used the Sound Stone demonstration to distract us from heading over to the barn to get the Port Stone,” Pebbles blurted out while she paced around the loft.

  “He’d already stolen it I bet,” Jennifer added.

  “What?” an incredulous Anlon intoned. “Why would he do that?”

  Jennifer and Pebbles ignored Anlon’s question. Pebbles asked the detective, “Did you notice the ring he wore?”

  “Yes, I remember it. It was hard not to notice with him banging it on the scotch glass,” Jennifer replied. “Why, is it significant?”

  “Uh huh. The design on the face of it matched one of the Master Stone designs…exactly!” Pebbles excitedly shared.

  “Really? I missed that. Good catch. Which design was it?” Jennifer asked in return.

  “Hello?! Still here,” Anlon called, cupping his mouth with his hands to make a makeshift megaphone. “Why would Pacal steal the Port Stone and then lie about where Devlin kept it?”

  “In a second Anlon. Please Pebbles, go on,” Jennifer said, holding out her palm to quell Anlon’s interruption.

  “The one that looked like a leaf,” Pebbles answered Jennifer, self-consciously gazing at a quickly angering Anlon. She moved to his side and said, “AC, it’s like I said last night. I think he’s after one of the other stones himself.”

  “So what does stealing the Port Stone accomplish for him? He doesn’t have Devlin’s Story Stone or the Master Stone,” Anlon challenged.

  “It slows us down from finding out what’s on the Story Stones. It buys him time. Think about it AC, he didn’t need to attack you with the Sound Stone last night to get his point across. He could just have easily picked a lawn chair to send flying across the yard. It was important for him to scare you, scare all of us,” Pebbles theorized.

  “By the way,” Pebbles asked, “did he show up for fingerprinting this morning?”

  “Nope,” Jennifer said. “There’s still time left in the day, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. I think he’s taken off. If he did, I’ll be some kind of angry. I asked my Captain for a search warrant this morning to go through Pacal’s home but I got shot down…not enough probable cause.”

  “Still not enough,” Anlon challenged. “You and Miss Marple here are just guessing at all this. For all we know, Pacal didn’t lie. For all we know, the thief found and took the Port Stone. For all we know, it may not have been stolen. It could still be hidden in here somewhere we overlooked.”

  Jennifer nodded and said, “You sound just like Captain Gambelli. Points taken. I’m probably getting ahead of myself, as he said when he chewed me out this morning.”

  Anlon didn’t enjoy throwing water on Jennifer and Pebbles’ flourishing speculation. He admired how observant they were and how quickly they could draw conclusions, but he was concerned they were moving too fast. He said, “You two are amazing. You notice everything and you link pieces together super quick, but I think this whole situation is more complicated than it seems on the surface. I feel like we have to be more methodical and not rush to judgment.”

  Jennifer blushed a little, not from anger but from embarrassment. Anlon was right. It was the same speech she heard earlier from Gambelli, which made Anlon’s comments sting all the more.

  Pebbles also felt embarrassed seeing the disappointment in Anlon’s face. She came to help him, not frustrate him.

  “Sorry, AC, my bad,” she offered in apology.

  “Don’t apologize,” he replied. “It’s all good. I’m thrilled you’re here and so enthusiastic to pitch in.”

  “Look,” Jennifer said, “my hands are somewhat tied. My mandate was made clear to me this morning. Focus on Dobson’s death, not Devlin’s. It irritates me because I feel it in my bones that the two are connected, but we don’t have any hard evidence. This break-in is more connected to Devlin’s death than Dobson’s, so I’m not sure what else I can do.

  “On the bright side, the thief left Dobson’s computer and his desk full of papers and other stuff. I even found a couple of flash drives in one of the desk drawers. If it’s okay with you Anlon, I’d like to take the computer and the papers as evidence back to my office for a few days. I’ll be looking for any clues about Dobson’s death, but if I find anything of interest about Devlin’s death or the stones, I will let you know. Fair deal?”

  Anlon answered, “Of course Jennifer. But why not come back to look at the computer and papers here though? That way we can keep each other up to date without you getting flak for helping us out. I’ll board up the broken window this afternoon and I’ll get the alarm company out here to install sensors on both windows in the loft. We need to sort through Devlin’s and Pacal’s desks too and conduct a more methodical search now that we have a better sense of where things stand. We might find something that helps you too.”

  “Let me think about it…and make sure you change the alarm codes too,” she answered.

  Pebbles spoke to Anlon, “Um, in the spirit of collaboration, can I tell her about the handkerchief now?”

  “Absolutely Pebbles. Let’s not go too far the other way. Be yourself, I’ll raise my hand if I can’t catch up,” Anlon smiled.

  Pebbles relayed her story about lifting Pacal’s handkerchief before she and Jennifer walked over to the house to retrieve it. As they stepped out of the house and down the back porch, Jennifer held up the evidence bag with the white cloth and said, “This is awesome, thank you. You’re sneaky, I like that!”

  “You’re welcome,” Pebbles bowed. “I kinda feel bad for swiping it, but I don’t know, I don’t have the warm fuzzies for Pacal.”

  “Neither do I,” Jennifer concurred. “Let’s go find Anlon, I have something to share in return as part of our collaboration.”

  When they found Anlon, he was on the phone to the alarm company negotiating an immediate service call. “…Look, I need someone out here this afternoon…Yes, I understand I don’t have an appointment…Tell me, how much does a service visit normally cost?...Uh huh, I see…$100…and do you have a rush charge on top of that…yes, yes…another $100. Okay, I have a deal for you. If you can motivate someone out here in the next 30 minutes, I’ll pay you $1,000 instead...Good answer, see you soon.”

  Anlon hung up and turned his attention to Jennifer and Pebbles who stood patiently waiting for his call to finish, giggling quietly at his successful, albeit expensive, negotiation.

  Jennifer said, “I want to give you two the heads up about something. When I went hiking up at Mt. Whiteface yesterday, I found Devlin’s GPS tracking device. I wanted to run prints on it and power it up to see if there were any clues, but I was directed to send it to the Meredith Police Department in New Hampshire. They’re the ones who filed the original police report. I asked the officer in charge of the case on their end to give me a heads up if he finds anything worth sharing, but I have my doubts he will. The point is, the device was laying on some rocks about 300 feet above where Devlin supposedly fell. That means he fell more like 500 feet. And I have to tell you, the rock face I rappelled to find the device was not realistically climbable from below.”

  Pebbles looked at Anlon and then at Jennifer, bursting to toss out a conclusion, but she bit her tongue. Anlon, noticing her gesture, dead-panned, “Go ahead, Miss Marple. Let’s hear it or you might just spontaneously combust.”

  Pebbles punched Anlon’s arm, forgetting about the sore shoulder, and said, “You’re mean!”

  Turning to Jennifer she said, “So Devlin probably was flown high in
the air like Pacal did to me last night, only the killer didn’t provide Devlin as soft a landing.”

  This time it was Anlon who connected the dots. “So that’s what Dobson meant when he said ‘yes and no’ when I asked if he thought Devlin was pushed!”

  XII

  FUNERAL PROCESSION

  The funeral services for both men were short but surprisingly well attended in Anlon’s opinion, given the scarcity of their direct living relations and the threat of May showers.

  Matthew Dobson’s service was held first. He was a parishioner and regular worshiper of the town’s Catholic church where services were held, and many of the funeral attendees were local residents who knew him from church and social events. Several fellow archaeologists came for both funerals, as did a handful of academic colleagues from Stony Brook University on Long Island where Dobson had occasionally lectured. Most of the people who came to pay their respects were unknown to Anlon.

  George Grant, Devlin’s attorney, did his best at Anlon’s request to contact and notify Dobson’s relations, but only two distant cousins were located and neither came for the service.

  Dobson’s wife, Clara, Grant had learned, died a decade earlier and was interred in a small Catholic cemetery south of Stockbridge. After both services, Dobson would be laid to rest alongside her. They were childless. His only sibling, a sister Elizabeth whose married name was Corchran, was also deceased as was her husband. But Grant was able to find and contact two of their children, a son named Kyle and a daughter named Margaret. Neither was local and both declined to attend the funeral even though Anlon graciously offered to pay for their travel. Anlon was disappointed to learn this from Grant the day before. Grant had stated his belief they declined out of indifference rather than animosity.

  Anlon skeptically wondered if they would have come had Grant shared the size of Dobson’s inheritance from Devlin. But Grant didn’t discuss the inheritance with them, given he was still in the process of determining whether Dobson left a will.

  After Dobson’s service, Jennifer Stevens, Pebbles and Anlon milled about outside with other guests staying for both funerals while the church prepared for Devlin’s service. Jennifer was dressed in the same tasteful charcoal pantsuit she’d worn when she first met Anlon on Sunday while Pebbles donned a simple, black, knee-high dress and patent leather heels. Anlon wore a dark navy suit, white shirt and black tie.

  They had just finished speaking with Mr. Grant about his fruitless search for Dobson’s will. He asked if it would be possible to search Dobson’s home and office for the document or clues to its location. Jennifer mentioned she planned to be at Dobson’s home the following day and agreed to take a look around. After all, the will might shed light on the motive for his murder. Pebbles offered to help Jennifer and volunteered to do a similar search of Dobson’s effects at Devlin’s office. Jennifer accepted Pebbles’ offer and Mr. Grant looked much relieved.

  The discussion of Dobson’s will reminded Anlon to thank Grant for emailing him another copy of Devlin’s will. He asked if the other copies had been distributed by now. Grant indicated he’d sent a copy to Anabel Simpson, who also declined to attend the funerals, and expected to hand deliver copies to Pacal and Richard Ryan after Devlin’s service.

  As new arrivals walked up casting nervous looks at the darkening skies, Anlon spotted the funeral home director by the church entrance and was about to walk over to discuss last minute details when he heard his name called aloud. Turning around, he faced his younger cousin, Richard Ryan.

  “Rich,” Anlon said, offering a handshake, “it’s good to see you. You’re looking well.”

  The 35-year-old Richard Ryan did not, in fact, look well at all. He had gained at least 50 pounds since Anlon last saw him five years ago at a party Anlon threw for friends and family when the Whave engine patent was sold. Richard was a train wreck that night. He’d gotten uncontrollably wasted and made a fool of himself hitting on several female guests in crude fashion, including Anlon’s then-girlfriend. When Anlon firmly escorted Richard to a quiet spot to tell him to chill out, the younger cousin had beseeched Anlon for money and broke down sobbing about his many woes. Anlon hoped desperately that today would not be a repeat performance.

  “Thanks, wish it were true. But sadly my life sucks as usual. How’s the good life on ‘Blue’ Tahoe treating you?” asked Rich, bitterness layered upon his words.

  “I can’t complain,” Anlon replied, careful to avoid opening a window for Richard to expand on his state of misery. “I’d like to introduce you to two friends of mine. This is Pebbles McCarver, a friend from Tahoe, and Jennifer Stevens, a new friend from this area. Ladies, this is my cousin Richard Ryan.”

  Richard’s mouth fell open staring, well leering, at the two beautiful, sedately dressed women. Anlon cringed, expecting any moment Richard would offer to take one of them off his hands, but Richard wasn’t drunk yet so his response only carried a pinch of bitterness. “Wow! You sure collect ‘em, don’t you cousin? Just like your cut of Uncle Dev’s will. The rich just get richer. Nice to meet you both.”

  Pebbles and Jennifer shrugged off Richard’s implication and politely greeted him. They chatted briefly about the weather, Richard’s trip in (Anlon had offered to pay for his travel too and Richard heartily accepted) and shared condolences for his loss.

  Just then Anlon felt a tap on his shoulder and wheeled to find himself face to face with an elegantly mannered man dressed from head to toe in black. The man’s face was deeply tanned and thin, almost too thin. His black hair was drawn into a ponytail longer than Pebbles could manage with her new hairstyle and his suit was custom tailored, judging by the trim fit. Behind him stood two hulking, stern-faced associates in similar suits, wearing sunglasses and chewing gum in their chiseled jaws. When he spoke, Anlon detected an odd accent amid his perfect English diction. “Please pardon me for interrupting. You are Dr. Anlon Cully?”

  “Yes, hello,” Anlon answered, trying to detect the origin of the accent. He was clearly of Latino origin yet some of his words had a guttural quality.

  “Dr. Cully, it is a sincere pleasure to meet you. My name is Klaus Navarro. I am very sorry that we meet on such a sad occasion.”

  “Mr. Navarro, thank you for your condolences. Did you know my Uncle Devlin?”

  “Oh yes,” said Klaus with a slight chuckle, “For many years. We often competed for the same treasures.”

  “You are an archaeologist then?” asked Anlon.

  “No, no. I am a collector of antiquities, mostly Mayan and Incan pieces,” Klaus corrected with a failed attempt to portray modesty. “I traveled here from my home in Argentina to honor the life of your brilliant uncle.”

  “Wow, that’s certainly above and beyond, Mr. Navarro. Thank you for coming,” Anlon said, hoping to break away from the conversation. Behind him, he heard Richard ask Pebbles, “So where’s Bam Bam?” and he knew a rescue was in order.

  But Klaus did not take the hint. He raised his voice a touch to recapture Anlon’s attention. “Dr. Cully? If I might have one more quick word with you. I realize you are very busy with Devlin’s funeral and I appreciate this is not the best time to engage in an extended conversation. I learned earlier today you are handling his estate and I need to speak with you later today or tomorrow about some pieces your uncle possessed. I would like to discuss purchasing them from the estate.”

  Anlon was taken aback by the forward manner, subject matter and timing of Klaus’ request to meet. Devlin, after all, was yet to be buried. He answered with a polite smile, “Um, I don’t mean to appear rude Mr. Navarro, but I’m not sure I will have time today or tomorrow to meet with you. If you give me your card after the ceremony, I promise to contact you when I am at a point where I can focus on Devlin’s estate matters. I hope you understand, it’s a rather hectic time right now.”

  Anlon bowed respectfully and turned back towards Pebbles and Jennifer. The quick moving Klaus stepped back in front of Anlon and pleaded, “But I have traveled
all this way to meet with you and, of course, send off Devlin. My flight home is the day after tomorrow. Can you not spare me 20 minutes of your time to at least hear my offer?”

  Irritation waxed in Anlon but he kept it under control. Tossing a look to Pebbles, he was at least relieved that she’d deftly handled Richard, who now stood alone by the church entrance scanning his cell phone. He took a deep breath and cast his eye at Navarro’s. They exuded, he noticed, a palpable urgency reinforced by a small quiver of the skin below one of Klaus’ eyes. Anlon offered a compromise. “Had I known you planned to travel to meet with me Mr. Navarro, I would have suggested a later date. But since you are here for a limited time, let’s talk again at the reception after the service and we can discuss a time to meet tomorrow. Best I can do.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Cully. I will see you at the reception,” Klaus said before motioning to his associates and moving towards the church.

  Pebbles scooted up to Anlon and whispered in his ear, “No offense, but your cousin is gross.”

  Anlon laughed and agreed, “Oh, wait ‘til he starts drinking. You’ll need to gird yourself for further lewd behavior.”

  She kissed him on the cheek, her first ever display of public affection towards Anlon, and whispered in his ear, “He’s watching us now. Maybe this will kill his mojo.”

  Anlon returned the kiss and whispered back, “It’ll make him want you more!”