Stone and Claw: A Novel in the Alastair Stone Chronicles

by R. L. King

  He was preparing to return the planner to the drawer when he noticed something poking out from inside the back cover. With another fast glance toward the door, he reopened the book.

  Inside the cover was a sketch. It depicted what looked like a cup or chalice, with a large gem set into the front of it and two smaller ones flanking it. The sketch was crudely made and thus didn’t provide much detail; Stone wondered if Garra herself had drawn it. Could this be the “item” she was searching for?

  Outside the office, the young girl giggled, startling Stone. They were closer now.

  Pull yourself together, he told himself, annoyed. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a right to be here. Well, certainly not inside his colleague’s locked office, but there was no reason he couldn’t be in the building itself. Hell, he had a keycard that opened it, as did all the other professors who worked here. If need be, all he’d have to do was get out of Garra’s office and slip back into his own.

  He didn’t want to do that, though.

  He slipped the sketch back inside the planner, then used magic to return it to the drawer. As he closed the drawer and locked it, he considered his next steps. He didn’t think there was any way anyone could figure out he’d been in here, but if someone did, it would be best if the janitor and her daughter hadn’t seen him at all.

  Fortunately, Garra’s office was all the way at the end of the hall, so unless the janitor started at the back and worked forward, he had a little time. Also fortunately, his augmented magical powers meant he could hold an invisibility spell for longer than he used to be able to. Not much longer, true, but it should be long enough for him to get out of the building while the woman was busy in one of the other offices.

  He couldn’t help a quick, wicked grin: the last time he’d been stuck inside an office he wasn’t supposed to be in, he’d had Grace Ruiz with him, and her rumbling stomach had almost given them away. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen her for over a year, and he wondered idly how she was doing. She might be a good resource if he needed any Spanish translations done.

  Focus. Moving with care, he slipped over to the open doorway, cast the invisibility spell, and peeked out into the hall—

  —and nearly came face to face with the chubby, coverall-clad woman, who was pushing a vacuum cleaner. Her daughter, a little girl around six in a My Little Pony T-shirt, skipped along behind her.

  Oh, bloody hell, this is ridiculous.

  The janitor was heading straight for Garra’s office, probably to plug in her vacuum. Stone ducked aside until she passed, then combined a levitation spell with the invisibility and floated out into the hall.

  As he did, the little girl began singing something, waving her arms around her. One of them smacked Stone’s shoulder as he floated by, and her face scrunched into confusion.

  “Mama? I just hit something in the air! Are there ghosts here?”

  Stone got out of there just as she flailed her arms again, obviously trying to locate the “ghost.” Scooting down the hall, he heard the janitor say something sharp in Spanish (he thought part of it was “el fantasma,”) but he didn’t wait to see how the girl would respond. So far, the spells were holding—he could levitate for a long time, but already the invisibility was beginning to tire him. He’d have to get out fast.

  The one thing in his favor was that it wasn’t possible to see the exit door from the office hallway. He slipped around the corner, glanced through the small window in the door to make sure nobody else was approaching from the outside, then pushed it open and zipped out.

  He didn’t drop the invisibility spell until he was around the corner, hidden in a narrow space between the building and a large tree. He let his breath out in a rush, gripping the tree as he waited for his heartbeat to go back to normal. Only then did he allow himself to think about what he’d just done, and how close he’d come to being caught.

  He pulled his notebook from his pocket and made a quick copy of the sketch he’d found in Garra’s planner, trying to get all the details right while his memory was still fresh. Then he flipped pages and examined the address he’d scrawled there.

  I hope this ends up being worth it.

  17

  Back at home, Stone found a map of San Jose and found the location of the address from Garra’s planner. It was on the east side of the city, in an area comprising mostly light industrial businesses—auto body shops, warehouses, and similar. Not the sort of place it seemed she was likely to go for a date or any other recreational activity. He checked if any junk or antique shops were in the area, but he didn’t see any. If only he could do something about trying to identify the chalice from the sketch, but that would be difficult with his two best experts on ancient artifacts—Madame Huan and Stefan Kolinsky—out of communication. Perhaps he could take it back to England and see if Eddie Monkton could come up with anything, but he knew the odds weren’t good—the original sketch had been fairly crude, and his own had even less detail. It was an option, but not one he’d need to use yet. Maybe if nothing came of the address, he’d think about it.

  His gaze fell on the articles about Thaddeus Benchley, which he’d pushed off to the corner of the desk, and then at Raider, curled up on his old leather sofa. “Well,” he told the cat, “have you got anything else to say to me? I could use a break from this Garra business.”

  What he could use a break from, if he wanted to admit it to himself, was his guilt. He still had no definitive evidence Marciella Garra had done anything other than fake her identity to get a job at the University. That was bad, of course, but it was the kind of bad you handled through administrative channels, not by breaking into someone’s office and rifling through her locked desk looking for clues. Maybe he should confront the woman about what he’d found, and see what she had to say. She could have a good explanation for what she’d done, after all.

  Perhaps he’d do that—but not until after he’d investigated the address from the planner. He’d thought before about following her, but now he didn’t need to. He knew where she’d be. All he had to do was show up there, hide, and see what she was up to. If it turned out to be nothing, he could put the matter out of his mind and move on, living with his guilt for being a nosy git about the whole thing.

  And if it turned out to be something…

  Enough. You’ll find out on Friday.

  Raider hadn’t answered his question—Benchley hadn’t made even a token appearance since that first night—but the cat had risen from his sleepy ball, stretched, and leaped up onto the desk. He paused, licking his paw in the nonchalant manner of all cats who didn’t want you to think they were up to something, then padded over to the small stack of clippings.

  “Is there something in there you want to show me?” Stone leaned forward, intrigued, as Raider appeared to be examining the top clipping on the stack.

  The cat did not reply.

  Stone picked up the clippings. There were three: the original one he’d found in the encyclopedia, the obituary, and the puff piece. After a moment’s thought, he cleared the map off his desk and laid the three of them side by side, leaving a foot of space between each. “There you go,” he said, indicating them. “If you want to show me anything, the floor—well, the desk—is yours.”

  Raider remained where he was, appearing for all the world as if he was pondering his next move. Then he stalked over and stood next to the puff piece article.

  “Something in here?”

  “Meow.”

  Stone tensed. “Was that a normal meow, or an answer?”

  “Meow.”

  Quickly, he shifted to magical sight, leaning down to get a good look into Raider’s eyes.

  As he’d half-expected, the faint blue glow was back.

  “Dr. Benchley. Good to see you again. Shall we see if we can get a bit farther along with what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Raider didn’t answer. Instead, he stared intently at the puff piece.

  Stone leaned in for a better look. The arti
cle covered half a page, including the three photos—the head shot, the candid one of him standing at the lab table with his students, and the one with him and the cat. Quickly he read through it again. It gave a brief overview of his career before and after he’d joined the faculty, and seemed to be focused more on lighthearted memories rather than any kind of rigorous examination of his scientific contributions. Several quotes from graduate and undergraduate students painted him as a cheerful man with a kindly, wicked sense of humor. He apparently cared deeply for his students’ well-being, and had been a gentle but tireless crusader for anti-war and other progressive causes.

  “Well,” Stone said. “This certainly seems to indicate you were a pleasant enough chap. It sounds like your students were quite sad to see you go.”

  “Meow.” Raider extended a paw and patted the photo of Benchley with his students.

  “Something about that photo you want me to notice?”

  “Meow.”

  “Can you be a bit more specific?”

  Apparently, however, Raider couldn’t. Stone had never dealt with an echo possessing a living being before—perhaps there were limitations on how much precision they could muster while dealing with an unfamiliar, non-human body and brain. He almost thought he saw a look of frustration pass across the cat’s face, but that might just have been wishful thinking.

  “Okay…let’s have a look.” He examined the photo more closely. Aside from Benchley himself, five other students clustered around the lab bench, clearly interested in the professor’s demonstration. There were three men and two women; the caption identified them as Roy Hooper, Del Wright, Valerie DeGeorge, Shari Milius, and Colin Frederick.

  He studied each face. It was hard to tell because the article was a photocopy of a grainy original, but he’d guess they were graduate students from their apparent ages. “Are you trying to show me something about the students?”

  “Meow.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  Raider looked up at him, blinked a couple of times, shook his head, and licked his paw. Then he walked across the article and head-butted Stone, purring and looking confused.

  “Bugger…you’ve popped out again, haven’t you?”

  No reply, and when Stone lifted him up and peered into his eyes, the blue glow had vanished.

  At least the phone hadn’t rung this time. And he did have a bit more to go on: apparently, one or more of the five graduate students might have more information about whatever Professor Benchley wanted him to know. He took out a pad and jotted down all five names. If they were in their early to middle twenties in the mid-Seventies, they’d be in their sixties now. Some of them might even be dead.

  Would the Chemistry department have kept track of them after all this time? It sounded like another trip back there would be his next step.

  At least it would help keep his mind off Marciella Garra for a while.

  18

  Stone didn’t get back to his office until after noon the next day. “Dr. Stone?” Laura called as he passed her. “Dr. Garra was looking for you.”

  “Oh?” That was odd, after how much she’d been avoiding him. “Is she here now?”

  “Back in her office.”

  Interesting. He paused to drop off his briefcase in his own office, then headed down the hall and knocked on her open doorway. “Laura said you wanted to see me.”

  She looked up from the paper she’d been writing something on. “Oh. Yes. Do you have a moment?”

  “Of course.” He studied her as he sat; she wore a bold purple blouse and her usual gold-chain necklace, with her shining black hair pulled back into a thick braid that hung down her back.

  She finished what she was writing, then met Stone’s gaze. “Dr. Stone, were you looking for something in my office?”

  Stone barely kept the shock from his face, and from his aura. How could she have known? “What? Why would I be in your office?”

  “I don’t know. Someone was, and I’m trying to figure out who.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know someone was in here? I mean—I popped in to drop off those books, but that was a while ago. Perhaps Laura was—”

  “No, I don’t think it was Laura. Someone was in here last night. When I opened my desk drawer, I found things moved around. Not much—just enough that I know I didn’t leave them that way.”

  “That’s…odd.” Stone searched his memory—he’d been so careful to put everything back exactly as he’d found it. Had he gotten something wrong in his haste to get away? “The cleaning people come in at night—perhaps they—”

  “It’s a locked drawer. I doubt the janitors have keys.” She glanced down, then back up again. “It is odd. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not accusing you of anything. I don’t keep anything very valuable in my drawer, and nothing was missing. They didn’t even take my nice pen. It’s just—creepy, to think somebody was going through my private things. You know?” She met his gaze squarely as she said it.

  The sudden feeling hit Stone that she knew precisely what he’d done. It was absurd—how could she possibly know?—but there it was. Still, he doubted she could prove it, and he couldn’t exactly come right out and admit it.

  He submerged his guilt and focused on keeping his expression neutral and mildly indignant at the thought of someone taking advantage of her. “Indeed—I can see why you’re concerned. But I assure you, I haven’t had any reason to be in your office, let alone in your locked desk. I’m not sure why you’d think I would have been.”

  For a moment they held each other’s gazes, each daring the other to flinch. Finally, hers dropped. “I’m sorry. I guess I overreacted. Since this used to be your office…”

  “You thought I might have held on to a copy of the desk key.” He could have turned the guilt back around on her if he’d wanted to, feigning offense that she’d think such a thing of him. Instead, he merely shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dr. Garra—I turned in all my keys when I moved to Dr. Mortenson’s old office. If you’re concerned, we could get Campus Security involved—”

  She didn’t call his bluff, thank goodness, but instead shook her head and waved him off. “Oh, no, no. It’s not worth that. Like I said, I don’t keep valuables in there. Or maybe it didn’t happen at all, and I just misremembered how I left things. I’m sorry I brought it up. Now that I say it out loud, it sounds a little silly, doesn’t it?”

  “Of course not,” he assured her, standing. “You’ve got every right to feel secure in your office. If you’re that worried about it, at least ask Laura to have someone in to change the lock on your office and your desk. That should give you some peace of mind.”

  “That’s a good idea. Thank you, Dr. Stone. And I am sorry for sounding like I was accusing you.”

  “Think nothing of it. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  Bloody hell! How did she know?

  Stone had intended to spend some time going over student essays in his office, but after the meeting with Garra, he had to get out of there. He crossed the campus with a purposeful stride designed to let any students tempted to stop him for a chat know it was a bad idea. It took him until he almost reached the central quad before his heart slowed to normal.

  How could she possibly have known he was in her office? Had she been lurking around and spotted him? Had the janitor seen through his invisibility spell and told her? Had he shown up on some security camera he didn’t know about? Had the child’s talk of “ghosts” somehow made her mother suspicious?

  She doesn’t know. She can’t. She’s just guessing because she already suspects you of something, and you’re the best candidate to still have a key. Even if she did suspect him of looking through her desk drawer, though, there was no way she could have figured out what he was doing in there. She’d said herself that nothing was missing.

  Unless he’d somehow put the sketch back in the wrong place…

  Just—don’t worry about it, he told himself. She c
an’t do anything about it, and after tomorrow night you might have more answers. Besides, if she threatened to accuse him of the break-in, he could always pull out his hidden ace and reveal he knew she was an imposter. It even provided a reasonable motive for why he might have done the deed, though probably not an excuse for it.

  He didn’t have another class for more than an hour. He’d already had lunch, so instead he continued north toward the Chemistry building. He hadn’t planned to stop by today, but since he couldn’t go back to his office yet without facing Garra again, it seemed as good a time as any.

  The same woman greeted him as he entered. “Ah, you’re back. Did you find out what you needed to know about Dr. Benchley?”

  “Sort of. I did find his photo in your collection, and located a couple of articles about him at the library. I was curious, though—I’m sure you keep records about former students, but would you be able to tell me anything about some of them? I thought perhaps I could contact them for information.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. “This seems like a lot of trouble for tracking down information about a man who used to live in your house.”

  “What can I say? I’m a bit of a history buff, especially about old houses. I understand if you can’t give me information about them, but if I gave you their names, would it be possible for you to let me know if they’re still alive, and perhaps pass a message on to them that I’d like to contact them? That way we can leave it up to them whether they want to get back to me.”

  “Well…” She glanced at her computer screen, then back at him. “Tell me their names and I’ll see what I can do when I have some free time. Are you in a hurry?”

  “Not really—whenever you can get to it is fine.” He flashed the charming smile and pulled the notebook page from his coat pocket. “I do appreciate your help. It’s very kind of you.”

  She smiled back. “It is an interesting project, I’ll admit.” She glanced at the page. “Oh! Well, you’ll be happy to know I think I can help you right away, at least with one of the names on your list.”