The Secret of the Stones Ernest Dempsey (ebooks online reader .TXT) 📖

single truth. Even all of the pagan religions had bits of the truth within.”

“Like one of those team-building exercises,” Sean said. Allyson and Mrs. Borringer gave him a similar look of confusion. He explained, “It was something I did once in college. The professor took the class of about twenty-five people and made us stand in a circle. He then went to one person and told them to repeat what he told them to the next person in line. After whispering the secret in the person’s ear, that person leaned over and whispered to the next student in line. This process was repeated around the room until the last student had heard the professor’s message. At that point, he asked the final student what the phrase was. Although it was similar to what he had told the first person in line, what he had whispered into the first ear had changed to something very different in mere minutes.”

“That’s exactly what my husband thought happened with the original religion,” she smiled at him. “I am not sure what it is you are looking for, but if there is something to find, it would be in this room.” Her hand waved carelessly toward the desk and the rest of the contents of the room.

The two guests exchanged a puzzled look. Sean said what they were thinking, “Didn’t the police come look through this stuff?”

“They came up here and went through everything. The first group of officers was very respectful of Frank’s things. They were thorough but were careful to leave everything the way they found it.”

Her sweet face turned to a sort of scowl, “That Officer Jurgenson was quite the opposite though. He tore through everything, leaving books lying around all over the place. The garage was an even bigger mess. He went through our trash, leaving garbage all over the place. The house was a total mess after that fellow left.”

Sean was feeling more and more certain that this Jurgenson character was not who he pretended to be. Cops could be insensitive at times, but not to an old lady who had just lost her husband to a brutal murder. No, even the biggest of blue-clad jerks knew how to treat a situation like that. He wasn’t a cop but felt compelled to apologize anyway. Then he thought better of it.

She continued, “It took several hours to put everything back in its place, but it gave me a chance to look back on some fond memories.”

This lady definitely seemed to be a glass-half-full type.

Her eyes returned from a distant gaze to the present. “Mr. Wyatt, you and the young lady may look through any of my husband’s things that you wish. I trust you. If you are able to find what it is you seek, you may keep it.”

“If we do find something…” he began.

“You may keep it,” she repeated for him. “Whatever you find, I hope it helps you find Tommy and whoever killed Frank.” She smiled again and disappeared around the door and into the hallway.

“Can she not just tell us what we are looking for and where it is?” Allyson pondered out loud.

Sean had to smile. Sometimes, historians could be a little socially awkward. He supposed this couple was no different. Those kinds of people spent their whole lives researching and analyzing the lives of other people from many different cultures and time periods. That was bound to have an effect on one’s social skills. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Borringer knew more than she was letting on. Sean considered the events of the last twenty-four hours. He had to help his friend. Apparently, the woman downstairs wasn’t going to help any more than telling him that the first step to unraveling this mystery might be somewhere in this room.

“What are we looking for?” Allyson asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“I’m not sure.” He began looking at the old religious texts, flipping through pages, scanning for some kind of bookmark that someone else might have missed.

Allyson, too, began looking through some the professor’s things. She joined Sean at the bookshelf, picking up the copy of Poe’s works. She opened it and looked through the table of contents. “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Raven,” “Black Cat,” “The Gold Bug,” and a plethora of other stories and poems, some she’d heard of and some that were beyond her memory of high school English. Most were probably never covered in class. Leafing through a few of the pages, she didn’t recognize anything that should lead them to any kind of clue.

“Maybe it isn’t here.” She brushed against him slightly as she continued thumbing through the pages.

The touch of her skin sent an electric chill up and down his spine. He looked up and smiled at her. “I’m sorry you’re involved in this.” His gaze was sincere.

She smiled back at him. “I have to say, I don’t enjoy being shot at,” she paused, “but this is going to be one amazing story for the paper.”

He snorted a laugh. Shaking his head, he continued his search.

Ten minutes went by, and still the pair had found nothing they believed to be what Dr. Borringer had been working on. It was starting to feel like a dead end.

Allyson interrupted his beleaguered thoughts. “I don’t know much about Poe, but I don‘t think that he knew anything about the Golden Chambers.” Sean spun the chair at the desk around and plopped down while she perused the pages as she paced the small room.

“It doesn’t look like there is anything to help to us here,” he broke the silence a few minutes later. If there had been anything there, the police or