In Stone Vol. 1-6: The First Six Travis Eldritch Problems (A Travis Eldritch Problem)

by Jennifer Vandenberg

  “I think I found something,” Jet said. He and Anda came over to me and I looked at what Jet was holding. It was a small cog, so small that I was surprised anyone could find it in all this mess.

  “Do you think it was from the bomb?” I asked.

  “I think Brian hired an inferior bomb maker,” Jet said.

  “Because of that?” Anda asked.

  “This is from a clock. If he had used a digital timer there would be nothing left. Also, if he had used a digital timer he could have used a remote control to set it off when it would do the most damage. By using a traditional clock he had to set the time when he planted the bomb. For all he knew you would be in the field when the bomb went off.”

  “So he got lucky,” I said.

  “He is not very good,” Jet said.

  I held up the paper I was reading. “Maybe he was only aiming for one of us.”

  Anda took the paper I was reading. “You think the bomb was meant for you.”

  I nodded. “Anyone who knows us knows that Jet turns into a giant once a month. The office should have been closed. I often come in when we are closed, but Anda, you don’t.” I breathed deep and tried not to focus on the next part. “If you hadn’t been there I probably would have died.”

  Anda nodded. “Because if you weren’t a statue we never would have found you in time.”

  “Yeah, so thanks for coming in.” I pointed at the article at the bottom of the page. “According to the by-line for this reporter he has made it his mission to discredit the Battleboys and Brian in particular. That sounds like someone at the paper who covers Brian.”

  “So we need to find him,” Anda said.

  “What time did the bomb go off yesterday?” Jet asked.

  I thought back. “3:00.”

  “I think he set all the bombs to go off at the same time. Most people are at work at that time of day so his success rate should have been high.”

  Anda nodded. “Well, Travis got lucky. Let’s go see if we can help…” she glanced at the paper, “…Robard Benten get lucky.”

  ●●●

  Our luck was not holding out. Mr. Benten didn’t work at the paper. He was freelance, and no one knew where he did his writing. One secretary thought that he spent most of his time investigating rumors about the Battleboys and not much time behind a desk. We paused in the lobby and tried to figure out what to do next.

  “He has a spot where he writes and Brian knows about it,” I said.

  “And he probably has a habit of being there in the afternoon,” Anda replied.

  “Writing down his findings after a long morning of research,” Jet added.

  “So where does he write?” Anda asked.

  “I need the paper,” I said, carefully not making it a question. I felt I was coming back to my old self. Anda pulled it out of her purse and I looked at the by-line again. “Listen to this. He credits stupid bad guys and mega vanilla Ausdinos for his success.”

  Jet’s grin came out of hiding. “Coffee Flats.”

  Anda looked at Jet. “I haven’t heard of that before.”

  I shrugged. “It’s on the other side of midtown in the historic district.”

  Anda nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t visited the historic district yet.”

  Jet smiled. “The city likes to attach fancy names to the area to draw people in. There is not much history there.”

  “But there is a great coffee joint that serves mega vanilla Ausdinos,” I said.

  “And Brian would know that is where Mr. Benten is at three in the afternoon.” Anda added.

  I held up the paper. “Paper covers rock.”

  The one nice thing about the historic district was that it’s easy to get to. Since the city wanted to attract people to the area in the hope of improving revenue, they set up a system of red buses that run from all over the city to the historic district. We arrived at Coffee Flats just after lunch and the seductive smell of dark roast reminded me that we hadn’t eaten.

  “Perhaps the staff knows Mr. Benten’s habits,” Anda said.

  “Worth a shot. I’d really like to not be around another explosion,” I grumbled, getting in line.

  We ordered mini coffees and baked berry triangles and asked about Robard Benten. The lanky man behind the counter beamed and told us that this was Mr. Benten’s office and that without the coffee from Coffee Flats he would never be the fantastic reporter that he was. I ignored his blatant marketing attempts and asked if he had seen a dark man dressed all in black. He had not. I decided that was a good thing so we sat down and enjoyed our lunch.

  “In theory we’ve only got a couple of hours before the next bomb goes off,” Anda said as she finished her triangle. “Are we sure we’re at the right place?”

  “All we have are a few clues. I think our theories are sound, but if he planted all the bombs days ago we may never find them in time,” I said.

  Jet shook his head. “He is setting each of them the day Brian wants them to go off.”

  Anda folded her napkin. “How do you know that?”

  Jet help up the clock cog. “Most clocks run on a twelve hour cycle. If he sets it the day before it would blow at three in the morning, not three in the afternoon.”

  “He is the brains of the outfit,” I said, tilting my head to indicate Jet. “Where would he place a bomb then?”

  “Perhaps Mr. Benten has a favorite table,” Jet said.

  Anda stood up and walked over to a busboy carrying a huge bin of dishes. I popped the last bite of berry triangle in my mouth and watched Anda. On her return, she pointed at the table in the corner. We all stood up and headed over to it. Jet looked under the small circle with the single leg that they laughingly called a table and stood up shaking his head. “Nothing with a clock on it.”

  I looked around to see where else a bomb could be placed that would not be noticed and saw a dark man in black clothes enter Coffee Flats. He carried a black backpack and walked past the ordering line. I grabbed Jet and Anda and pushed them into the back hallway that led to the bathrooms.

  “What are you doing?” Anda hissed.

  “Our bomber has arrived,” I whispered.

  Anda peeked around the wall. Her face was pale when she leaned back and nodded. We heard the chair at Benten’s table scrape back and I eased around to see what he was doing. His back was to us and he was removing something from his backpack. Jet was right. It was a black box with a traditional clock on the front. I wondered if that was his signature style. It would explain the lack of technology. I also wondered if his Problem was that he was a Luddite.

  He took out a jar of goop and put some on the back of the box. Very carefully, he pressed the bomb onto the underside of the table. Standing up he put the jar back in his pack and zipped everything up.

  Jet was sure he didn’t have a remote, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I watched the man walk out the door and saw him turn left. I then ran to the front door and spied him strolling down to the bus stop. Anda and Jet were behind me. I turned to Anda.

  “Jet and I are going after this coward. Try to clear this place without causing a panic. And get the bomb squad down here to take care of that thing.” Anda nodded and hurried to the counter. Jet and I headed for the bus stop.

  It should have been a clean capture. The bomber was standing alone at the stop, and I knew that a bus wasn’t arriving for another ten minutes. He acted like he had all the time in the world. He glanced at us as we got closer, but did not see us as a threat. Jet and I split up to surround him but just before we arrived at the bus stop the bomber’s eyes grew wide and he bolted. I knew he was a coward. No guts.

  Glancing around, I saw screaming people pushing their way out of Coffee Flats. So much for not causing a panic. Some of the people were headed our way so I followed Jet—who had started running after the bomber. I knew after just a few paces that I was in no shape to chase this creep. My lungs felt like I had run a full race after only a dozen steps. I could see Jet ahead of me, but I didn
’t think he was going to catch anyone with his short legs. I gasped, trying to start up again, and saw spots. Slumping to the ground, I hoped I didn’t pass out. A pair of overalls stopped in front of me and I groaned. Anda crouched down and put a hand on my clammy face.

  “We should have left you in the hospital,” she said.

  “Go after Jet. We need to stop the bomber,” I said.

  “Okay. Should I show you some glamour?” she asked.

  I smiled at the thought but shook my head. “I think it might kill me.”

  “Just a little then.” She took off her plaid sun hat and shook out her hair. Her perfect blond curls framed her gorgeous face and I felt my heart pump faster. She truly was the most beautiful woman on Ausdine.

  Before I could start composing sonnets, she wrapped her hair up and put on her hat. Her brilliance didn’t go out but it did dim enough that I could think clearly. I breathed in and found that I didn’t hurt.

  “Thanks.”

  She shook her head wryly. “Men are so easy. I’ll go find Jet. You deal with the police.”

  She ran off and I stood up. Sirens headed my way and I went over to tell them where the bomb was. As I reached the now empty Coffee Flats, I recognized Robard Benten coming from the other direction. He looked at the police and pulled out a recorder.

  “You’re Travis Eldritch,” he said, holding the device up to me. I nodded.

  “Travis Eldritch, here at the Coffee Flats and the police arriving, too.” It didn’t take long for him to arrive at four. I respected that kind of intuition. “What has Brian done now?”

  “He’s just being his usual explosive self.” I turned to the bomb disposal technician and explained what I knew. He nodded and asked us to please step away from the door.

  Robard took my arm and led me to a bench in front of the florist next door. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

  I nodded. “And when I get to the end I’ll stop.”

  Robard grinned. “Perfect.”

  I had just finished my story and Robard had started muttering about exposes when I heard the police radio crackling. I held my hand up and Robard and I walked over to the car. Leaning in we listened to the accident report. “Dark man in a black suit killed by a district bus.”

  “Is that your bomber?” Robard asked.

  “I think it is,” I said. A police officer came out and talked into his hand-held radio. Robard stopped him before he got into the car and explained who we were. He shrugged and we climbed into the back of the squad car, a place I always avoid.

  He ran hot and we arrived at the crime scene in just a few minutes. The red bus was parked at a weird angle in the middle of the street facing an ambulance. I climbed out of the car and saw Jet and Anda standing in front of a frozen delight parlor. So historically accurate.

  Robard started interviewing people and I walked over to my partners. Anda’s beautiful face was streaked with tears, but she was quiet now. Jet just shrugged, his smile hidden away.

  “We were nowhere near him,” Jet said. “I was slowing down and Anda was just asking if she should give him a full dose of glamour. We saw the bus go by, but he must not have noticed. We watched him put on a burst of speed and cross the street. He did not make it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. As you said, he should have noticed that you were slowing down.”

  Anda hiccupped. “The noise was awful. The bus tires squealed and then there was this loud, wet thump. I’ll be hearing it in my sleep.”

  Robard walked up and I introduced him to Jet and Anda. He took a cloth from his shirt pocket and handed it to Anda. Anda took it and started crying again. Robard waited for Anda to calm down. At last she did, and Robard started asking them questions. I decided I had said enough and walked over to the bus. Looking down at the body of our bomber I tried to figure out how I felt. We saved Robard’s life and prevented at least two bombs from going off. We stopped, or postponed, Brian’s plans, and we all lived to tell about it. Case closed.

  But I felt we hadn’t really stopped anything. Brian was still out there and I was sure he had a back-up plan. I always thought killing Jem Tun was Brian’s goal. Robard and I were simply annoyances, flying crawlers to be swatted. But Jem ran the local Battleboy group. If Brian was to do anything on his own he would have to eradicate Jem.

  I stared down at the body. I wished I could interrogate him, but being dead he was not going to give us any helpful information.

  “Why did you cross the road?” I asked no one in particular.

  “Maybe he really wanted to get to the other side,” a technician said, chuckling.

  “But why?” I asked. The tech just shook his head and got back to collecting evidence. I walked to the far side of the street and turned. From here I could see the other corner perfectly.

  What if the bomber had seen someone he knew? Someone he thought he could trust? Wouldn’t he run towards that person? The bus may have been unexpected, but the bomber’s death was inevitable.

  I looked around for anything that would prove my idea true. I didn’t find any evidence laying around, but I knew my theory was solid. And I knew Brian was behind it. We all assumed he relinquished control to the bomber, but that was not his style. I’d be willing to bet he kept a close eye on the man and when he became a liability Brian eliminated him.

  I crossed back to Jet and Anda. Robard had moved on to talk to the technicians. “You didn’t have anything to do with this accident,” I said looking into Anda’s teary eyes. “Brian killed him. If it hadn’t happened here it was going to happen somewhere.” I gestured and we all started walking. “Jem is not in danger at the moment. I think this case is closed.”

  Anda calmed down as we walked. “I talked to Misty last night. She said she had no idea that her sister was involved with the Battleboys and was rather surprised.”

  “I’m not sure she was involved with them. She may have just been an annoying crawler that Brian felt he needed to squash, like me or Robard.”

  “I’ll let Misty know,” Anda said. “You really think there won’t be any more bombs?”

  Jet nodded. “I think so. He does not want to get rid of Jem until he has Travis out of the way. He will wait until he can try again.”

  “So we need a better office,” Anda said.

  “At least a bigger one,” I offered.

  “Mr. Newman’s is still available,” Anda said. I tried to imagine myself working with that wall of windows right behind me. It was a little unnerving.

  “I think we’ll stick to downtown. Maybe some place closer to Nell’s.”

  Jet grinned and I felt we were coming around. Anda’s eyes were clearing, I was breathing easier, and Jet was enjoying himself too much. I wasn’t worried about Brian or bombers. I knew there would be another chance to stop him. There was nothing unexpected about that.

  Attraction In Stone

  (A Sixth Travis Eldritch Problem)

  By Jennifer Vandenberg

  All Rights Reserved © 2013 Jennifer Vandenberg

  This book is dedicated to Laurie R. King.

  Without her I would not have read Strong Poison by

  Dorothy Sayers, and I would not have given

  Meggie such a great name.

  I’ll let you figure out the connection.

  Ever since my office was blown up with me in it, I’ve been thinking about choices. At first, I didn’t think about anything but finding a new office, but now that a week has passed, I have begun to wonder if I am fated to always be a private investigator or if I have a choice. And if I have a choice am I making the right one?

  My indecision has drawn me back to my wreck of an office day after day. I stand stone-still as the demolitionists separate the concrete from the metal with a huge magnet on a crane big enough to need stabilizers. As I watch the bits and pieces of my office fly into the air, I wish someone could do the same thing to my life. If I had a magnet that could separate my choices into the ones I should make and the ones I shouldn’t make then
I’d be able to move on, confident that I was doing the right thing. Instead I just observe as my thoughts repel each other.

  Even though I have no choice but to turn into a statue at random moments thanks to our creators, the gods more commonly known as They, I do believe that we have choices in our lives. I mean, I did choose to become a PI, right? I didn’t just take this job because I was desperate to not become a therapist like everyone else in my family, did I? My first partner, Grant, did need help, but surely he could have asked anyone to join him. I often look back on those early days and wonder why he chose me. And when I do, I realize that the choice was not truly mine. He chose me. I just ran to something that was different than what I was doing.

  Now I have new partners. I like to think Jet and Anda are happy working for me but the truth is I did not choose them. I needed a new partner or the firm was going to close, and Jet was the only option. It is true, I have never regretted asking Jet if he wanted to be my partner, but it wasn’t much of a choice. And Anda made a choice and made it hard for us to say no. Again, it was more her choice than ours.

  When I get too melancholy, I remember my cousin Van. He has few choices in his life because he falls asleep as soon as the sun rises. It isn’t his choice – it’s his Problem. During Suntern he sleeps sixteen to eighteen hours at a time. It’s hard to have a job, or even much of a life when you live it entirely at night. At least a problem with choices is not my Problem.

  So now I am at a crossroads. If I find a new office and continue this life am I actually choosing to do this, or am I just continuing to blindly follow a path set down by others? And if I choose to do something else what would that be? What choice do I have?

  ●●●

  “So are you quitting?” Jet asked.

  I shook my head. It wasn’t in response, it was in amusement. Jet always seemed to know what I was thinking. “I don’t know. Why do you think I’m considering it?”