Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

When they reached the shore Stone turned his back while Constance wrung out her sodden dress and slipped it back on. The damp fabric clung to her shapely figure, and Stone tried not to look. He was a gentleman, and he had a girlfriend who was prone to jealousy.

Once he, too, was dressed, he invited her up to his house. Stone was a private person, but it would not be chivalrous to put Constance back in her canoe and send her on her way.

“You can have a cup of tea, warm up and dry off. Then I will take you and your canoe to wherever you were headed.”

“I would prefer black coffee,” she said. “And this is my intended destination.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I came to see you.”

Stone scratched his head. “And it didn’t occur to you to use the front door?”

The corners of Constance’s mouth twitched up. “I’m a friend of Trinity Paige. She tells me you have all sorts of advanced security measures set up around your property, especially along the drive.”

Trinity Paige was Stone’s girlfriend and a reporter at the Washington Scribe. She had a meddlesome nature that she passed off as a “reporter’s nose.” When not working on a story, Trinity passed her time criticizing her longtime love interest.

“She exaggerates,” Stone said. “Besides, I also have security in place on the back side of the house.” He frowned. It occurred to him that Trinity had never mentioned a friend named Constance.

“May I ask how you know Trinity?”

“I am a librarian. I sometimes help her with her investigative work.” She looked around nervously. “It’s the sort of thing my superiors at the library would frown upon.”

“I promise you no one from the library is hiding among the trees.” Stone smiled and his tension eased. “And no one here will tell on you. I give you my word.”

They made their way up the gentle, grassy slope to Riverbend, the Georgian Colonial mansion he’d inherited from his grandfather. Surrounded by dense forest, the three-story brick home was invisible to passersby, and its unobtrusive dirt driveway afforded little hint that so impressive a structure lay at its end. For that reason, Stone had few visitors, which was the way he preferred it.

The aroma of coffee and the steamy gurgle of the percolator greeted them as they stepped inside. Two men sat at the kitchen table reading the evening newspaper. One was Alex, the other was a muscular man with dark brown skin. Moses Gibbs was one of Stone’s oldest friends. His grandfather had been caretaker of Riverbend. After a brief career in prizefighting, Moses had returned home to take up the post.

“Coffee’s almost ready,” Alex said. “I know you like a cup after your evening swims.”

“Thank you. What’s new in the news?”

“A woman named Amelia Earhart, a pilot, just made a trans-Atlantic flight from the US to Ireland. Better watch out, Stone. Trinity will want to go for her pilot’s license soon.”

Moses looked at Alex and grinned. “Just wait until Trinity finds out about the Flying Wing we’re working on.”

Stone cleared his throat. “Alex English, Moses Gibbs, may I introduce Constance Cray.”

The two men hastily pushed back their chairs and stood.

Alex banged his knees on the table. “Sorry about that. I’m all arms and legs. And one hook, though I’m not a pirate captain.” He held out his left arm.

Grinning, Constance grabbed the hook and gave it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you. Peter Pan is my favorite play. I saw it performed in London last year.”

“Good to meet you, Ma’am.” Moses gave a quick bob of his head.

Constance hesitated, her brow crinkling in a frown. People were often taken aback by Moses being treated as a member of the family rather than hired help. She forced a smile. “It is good to meet you, too.” Her tone was sincere, but she did not offer to shake hands.

“If you all will excuse me, I’ve got some work to do.” Moses gave another nod and left the kitchen.

“Don’t you dare try it without me!” Alex called behind him.

“Try what out?” Stone asked. He glanced at Constance, whose face was marred by a puzzled frown. “Alex and Moses are inventors. I’m always looking forward to what they come up with next.”

Alex waggled his hook at his friend. “It’s a surprise. Oh, and I might have found a clue relating to our work this morning. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Alex filled three cups with steaming coffee and handed one to Constance and the other to Stone. In the short time since he had lost his left hand, he’d become surprisingly adept with the hook.

“Thank you,” Constance said, accepting the cup. She took a sip and closed her eyes. “It’s strong.”

“I like it that way, “Alex said as he returned to his seat.

“As do I.” Constance said.

She smiled a bit too beatifically, in Stone’s estimation. He quirked an eyebrow but didn’t comment. No sense messing things up for his friend.

“So, the two of you live together?” Constance asked.

“We do,” Stone said. “My grandfather left me this place but it’s far too big for only me, so I convinced Alex to move in. He’s taken over most of the third floor.”