The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

lot of blues and reds used in the mosaic of jagged glasswork. And in each individual window, there were what seemed to be random white dots interspersed through the darker colors.

He let his eyes gaze at several of them before making his way, almost unconsciously, toward the stage and up its front steps. Closer up, the organ was even larger than he’d thought, with ladders and small platforms built up inside so maintenance workers could have easy access to the necessary spots.

Tommy turned to Ulrich, his mind leaving the instrument for a moment. “What do you expect to find here?”

Ulrich cocked his head, “That’s why you are here, Mr. Schultz.”

“I don’t even know what to look for.” He’d become exasperated. The events of the last few days had taken their toll, and his brain hurt from the emotional and mental roller coaster.

“Try.”

Minutes went by. Tommy scanned the entire chamber, searching for something that could possibly be a clue. He could find nothing. No pictures, no words, not even any symbols that could be translated were to be found anywhere. And there was certainly nothing of any Indian influence to be seen.

Out of nowhere, the sexton appeared in a doorway near the base of the large stage. “Do you gentlemen have any questions or need help with anything?”

“Actually, sir,” Tommy answered, “I do have a couple of questions.”

“Yes?” The man looked happy to be able to help.

“I was curious about the size of this church. It seems fairly large for an area with such a small population. How did that happen?”

The old man smiled. “Originally, this church only had a dozen members or so. That was back in the mid-1800s. Shortly after the church was organized, the founding pastor came into a great deal of money. No one really knows where it came from. He claimed that the money had come from a generous donor who believed in the ministry of the church but who wanted to stay anonymous. Down through the years, the church has been remodeled and expanded many times to accommodate the growing numbers of members. Where you stand now is the result of the final renovation in the 1950s. Down in the basement areas, the original flooring and foundation still exist to this day.”

“Would it be possible to get down there and see some of the original structure?”

A slight chuckle ensued. “Oh my, no. There is only one door that leads down into that area, and it is completely sealed off. Quite impossible to get down there.”

“Why is it sealed off?”

“I have no idea. It seems to me that it would be an interesting part of the church’s history to include that as part of the tour, but for some reason, it was closed up long ago, before this final version of the building was ever completed. If I had to guess, I would say there must be some kind of safety or insurance concern with having people in that area.”

The answer seemed an honest one. Still, the mysterious origin of where the church got its money was never made clear.

“That organ,” the sexton went on, “is the largest bellows-driven pipe organ in the eastern half of the United States and one of the biggest in the entire world.” He must have noticed Ulrich and the two guards pretending to admire the massive instrument. They all gave the man a blank stare of disinterest.

“If I may,” Tommy went back to the issue in his mind, “you said that nobody knew where the money originally came from?”

“That is correct, sir. Of course, now the church has a rather large number of members on its books, so money comes in regularly from tithes and offerings.”

There was something suspicious about the story they were being told. Tommy believed the church worker was mostly telling the truth, but it seemed like the connection between the dead park ranger’s story earlier and the way that this church seemed to thrive so quickly was more than just a mere coincidence. His eyes once again searched the room, trying to find something that would tip him as to how.

His gaze stopped on one of the colored windows. There was something different inside it.

The sexton seemed content to simply stand by and help answer any questions the strangers had. Clearly, he was bored with his job.

Tommy obliged him. “I do have another question to ask you. These rows of stained glass windows on the walls, where did they come from?”

“Ahh. I believe they were made somewhere in Spain. A very specialized glassworks company created them, and they were shipped over here. It must have been a difficult thing to communicate back and forth with a company so far away about the specifications of the windows needed for the church.”

As interesting as Tommy found the history of the windows, he was more concerned with the oddity in their appearance. “What I was really curious about was the white pieces of glass that seem to dot each window. Are they just there to throw in contrast with the dark colors, or is there another reason for them?”

The old man smiled. “I’m so glad you asked. You see,” he explained, “those white pieces of glass are actually a tribute to one of the most revolutionary forms of communication ever developed.”

Tommy and the other three stood waiting for clarification.

“The white dots of round glass inserted in the windows are actually Morse code.”

“So the clue is in the windows.” Tommy spoke a little louder than he’d intended.

The statement took the church worker off guard. “I’m sorry. Clue? What clue?”

He was given no answer. Instead, Ulrich began examining the windows as well, in an attempt to figure out what it all meant.