A few minutes later Alex hung up, having scribbled the address of a mining supply manufacturer in his notebook.
“How many shield runes are left in your coat?” Iggy asked as Alex headed for the door.
“Three,” Alex said, putting on his hat.
“Try not to get shot again.”
Masterson Tool and Die was on the south side in a four-story office building attached to a factory and warehouse. A perky receptionist with black hair in a pixie cut greeted him when he entered the lobby and asked, very politely, what she could help Alex with.
“I need to see somebody that knows about coal mining,” he said.
“Did you have specific questions about our tools?”
Alex handed her his card.
“It’s about someone who’s been kidnapped,” he said. “I just need a few minutes with someone who knows about mining.”
She looked at Alex as if she wasn’t sure if he was serious, but decided after a minute that he was. She picked up the phone and spoke into it for a minute.
“Mr. Sanderson is our lead engineer,” she said. “He’ll be down in a minute if you care to wait.”
Alex thanked her and took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs in the lobby. Almost exactly one minute later, the elevator door opened and a large man with short brown hair got off. He wasn’t just tall, he had a bigness about his frame that spoke of an athlete’s body gone soft. His hands were rough, the hands of a man who’d done physical work. His face was lined, with a strong, Roman nose and brown eyes.
“Mr. Sanderson?” Alex said, standing up.
“What’s this about?” Sanderson said, sticking out his massive hand.
Alex explained about Leroy Cunningham and his life in Coaldale.
“Could someone have grabbed Leroy because they needed help digging a tunnel?”
Sanderson thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“If he was the engineer, maybe,” he said. “All the assistant safety engineer does is keep the records of the inspections and draw out where the tunnels go.”
“So that’s where he learned how to be a draftsman,” Alex said. “But he wouldn’t know anything about how to dig a mine.”
Sanderson shrugged.
“He might,” he said. “If he worked in the mine before he became the assistant engineer.”
“How much could he really know?” Alex asked.
“At his age, not much,” Sanderson said. “If whoever took him needed to understand mine safety reports, he’d be the guy.”
“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Sanderson,” Alex said, sticking out his hand.
Sanderson shook it.
“Good luck finding Leroy,” he said. He started to turn away but stopped and turned back. “Let me know if you find him.”
Alex promised that he would, then put his notebook in his pocket and headed for the street. It just didn’t make any sense, someone grabbing Leroy. He wasn’t worth any money, he didn’t design banks, and he knew virtually nothing about mining beyond the safety reports.
It didn’t track. The people who took him had a reason, but he just wasn’t seeing it.
Half an hour later, Alex opened his vault on the wall of his office. He took off his coat and draped it over his writing desk. On the inside, running down the back on either side of the seam, were three shield runes. Each one was formed from a triskaidecagon with a triangle on the top point and circles and diamonds alternating the rest of the way around. The circles had symbols in them defining resistance while the diamonds bore radiant symbols. Inside the center was a rune that looked a little like a fountain wearing a hat.
Each construct was done in silver ink with diamond ink for the rune at the center and alternating sapphire and gold ink for the symbols inside circle and diamond shapes.
Alex laid out the inks and the special pens needed to use them, then paced around his vault, going over the process for writing the complex construct in his mind. One of the reasons he’d come here, to his office, was that he didn’t want Iggy kibbitzing while he worked. The rune was already one of the most complex he knew.
He checked his hands and found them shaking a bit, though whether that meant the elixir was wearing off or he was just nervous was impossible to tell. Taking the flask out of his pocket, he took a shot of the noxious stuff and put it back.
“All right,” he said out loud. “Time to get to work.”
He was grateful a moment later when the phone on his desk rang.
“Lockerby Investigations,” he said once he’d reached it.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you,” Leslie said. “I found something you’re going to want to hear.”
Alex perked up immediately.
“Give it up,” he encouraged.
“Not only did David Watson and Seth Kowalski know each other, but Watson worked as a surveyor in the assessor’s office when Kowalski ran the place.”
That was a definite connection.
“Great work, doll,” Alex said, finally feeling like he was getting somewhere with the ghost.
“There’s more,” Leslie said. Alex could hear the mischievous energy in her voice. “I had Randall, he’s the current assessor, look through their employment records and you’ll never guess what he found.”
“Randall?” Alex said with a smirk he was sure Leslie could hear. Leslie was a serious beauty and she had a bad habit of wrapping men around her little finger, especially when he wanted them to do boring things like comb through records for her.
“Yes, Randall,” she purred. “Now are you going to guess what he found or not?”
“Watson’s not the only one who worked for Kowalski?”
“Got it in one,” Leslie said. “Betsy Phillips was Kowalski’s clerk back in the day.”
“How much do you want to bet if Randall looks for the name Martin Pride, he’ll find him too?”
Leslie laughed.
“No bet,” she said.
“While he’s digging, have your beau look up the names of everyone who worked in that office when Kowalski ran the place. Five will get you ten that some of those people are on our ghost’s hit list.”
“I’ll take care of it in the morning,” Leslie said. “Right now Randall and I are going to dinner.”
“Have fun,” Alex said before hanging up.
Now he had a definite connection between most of the ghost’s victims. Whatever these killings were about, it had to do with the Suffolk County Assessor’s Office.
“Now all we have to do is find out who hated Kowalski and his crew enough to still want to kill them thirty years after the fact.”
11
The Lunch Box
Alex sat at the massive oak dining table in the brownstone’s kitchen sipping his third cup of coffee.
It wasn’t helping.
“You look terrible,” Iggy said. He was dressed in his heavy dungarees and a work shirt, his usual attire for puttering with his orchids in the greenhouse.
“I didn’t sleep a wink,” Alex muttered. “None of these cases make any sense and if I don’t solve at least one of them, I won’t be able to pay Leslie. She’ll quit and then everything will go straight to Hell.”
“Don’t forget that if you don’t solve this ghost business, the police will never work with you again,” Iggy chuckled. Alex gave him a sour look but then nodded.
“And if I don’t find Leroy in the next few days, he’s probably a dead man,” Alex said.
Iggy’s smile disappeared, and he sighed, looking weary himself.
“Steady on, lad,” he said. “Work your leads and I dare say you’ll figure it out.”
“What if I don’t?” Alex said, setting his empty cup aside. “How am I going to tell Hannah Cunningham that I let her husband die?”