This is the newly edited version of Stone Panthers. I'm revising the whole thing in hopes of republishing it. I'm going to be adding a lot more to the story, to make it fit better with the second and third books.


With a loud bang the heavy stone door of the cave swung shut, sending a brisk wind blowing over him. He shivered a little from the icy breeze, and frowned. He’d completely forgotten to prop the door open, and now he was locked in here. Using the flashlight on his cellphone, he shone the light along the wet cave walls, listening to the sound of dripping water. He made his way carefully around the rocks that littered the cave floor, and lay piled in large mounds against the rough walls.
Like many of the lava tubes around here, large chunks of rock had fallen from the cave ceiling, making the cave nearly impossible to navigate. But, he managed to crawl along, holding his cellphone out in front. It probably hadn’t been the smartest idea he’d ever had, coming done here without any proper equipment. Fortunately, he was pretty sure he could find his way out. He’d been in enough caves before to navigate well, even with only a cellphone flashlight to guide him.
Suddenly, a drawing on the cave wall caught his attention. It was of a panther, much like the on the stone coin that even now was in his coat pocket. He took the coin out of his pocket and held it up next to the drawing. The panther had been carved into the cave wall, and then colored in with paint, which was peeling off from the damp atmosphere of the cave. He studied the panther carefully before gently pressing on a sharp piece of protruding rock which jutted out of the wall next to the drawing. There was a grinding noise, and slowly a small door appeared in the rock wall. A tunnel gaped before him, dark and damp. He stepped in, noting that he was now in a man-made tunnel. Probably right below the mansion.
He paused and looked around cautiously. A cold gust of wind rushed down toward him, implying that the tunnel led to an exit. He started down it, hoping it would lead him out of here. He held his cellphone up high, and strained his eye to see where he was going. He came to some rough stone stairs leading upward, and felt hopeful now as he ran quietly up them. At the top, there was a door, which was unlocked. He turned the doorknob slowly, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. It opened silently, as if it had been recently oiled. He was now in the old cellar of the mansion. It was cold, but the air was stale and musty. He let out a sigh of relief, and crossed the dirty cellar floor and mounted the steps to the kitchen, dodging cobwebs along the way. The kitchen was bright with the silvery moonlight that streamed in through the grimy windows. He turned off the flashlight, as the moonlight was more than enough to see by.
The old stone mansion was silent and dark, not even creaking in the heavy winds that blustered about it. He went out through the kitchen door, bracing himself in the wind. Wrapping his coat about him tightly, he headed out of the ravine, back to the path which led to his property. Once there, it wasn’t long before he arrived back at his house. He entered quietly, not wanting to awaken his roommate, who had had a long day at work. Finally, in his own bedroom, he collapsed on his bed. He definitely should have prepared more. He’d do better next time. Right now, he needed some sleep. He had a few hours before work, anyway.

His blaring alarm woke him up with a start the next morning. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows, and a bird was singing cheerily outside, despite the fact that it was quite cold. And he was feeling anything but cheery this morning. He got up and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The reflection was of a handsome young man, but who had definitely not gotten enough sleep. His blue eyes were squinted and bloodshot, the stubble on his face and his disheveled brown hair gave him a rather unkempt appearance. Quickly he shaved, combed his hair and dressed for work.
Work was a private detective agency in nearby Bend, Oregon. The owner of the agency had recently turned over the business to his son, who had seemed to take enjoyment in being difficult. But, nonetheless, it was a good job.
His roommate, Clint Watson sat at the table, playing on his cellphone and eating a bowl of cereal. “Hey, man,” Clint greeted him. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” he replied, glad that he had a roommate who was neither observant nor curious. He went to the sink and gently washed the cut he’d gotten walking through the forest last night. After drying it, he rolled his sleeve back down and grabbed his coat and keys. He’d have to do without breakfast this morning, as he was already running late.
He arrived at the Folsom Detective Agency right on time. He straightened his shirt collar and checked himself in the rear-view- mirror before going in. His coworkers and boss were a lot more observant that his roommate, and right now no one could know what he’d been up to. He had to know more first.
He greeted the receptionist, Katie, with a smile.
“Hi, Chase,” Katie replied with a flirty smile and toss of her curly blonde hair. She rested her chin on her hand, and gazed after him.
“Good morning, Katie,” Chase said politely as he passed her on his way to his office. He sat down at his computer and sighed. He was currently working on a case that his boss, Jeff Folsom, had assigned to him yesterday. It was an unimportant case about an elderly woman who wanted her missing cat tracked down. Chase could not believe he’d been dumped with the most senseless case the agency currently had, as he’d been working for them for more than five years. The elder Mr. Folsom had recently retired, and given the agency over to his 30-year-old son, Jeff, who had taken a strong dislike to Chase. Chase blamed this as the reason for getting cold or unimportant cases like this one. He was about to turn on his computer when his office phone rang. It was the elderly lady, calling to tell him her cat had come home just that morning. She thanked him profusely for being so willing and helpful and said she intended to send the agency a check for their trouble anyway.
“So, I guess the cat case is solved,” Jeff Folsom said. He had apparently been listening to Chase’s conversation. “I’ll have to find another case for you…. oh, yes, we got a call yesterday, some guy said a special painting was stolen from his living room a few nights ago. He was very distraught over it. It’s a painting of a black panther. Sounds very important. I’d like you to get right on that.” Jeff left with a slightly patronizing smile after depositing the case file on his desk.
Chase opened the case file with interest. A painting of a panther. He glanced through the notes, his eyes finally resting on a photo of the painting. A black panther was crouched on a dead tree branch, the moon rising behind it. Aesthetically, the painting was desolate and far from beautiful, but to Chase it could mean a big break in the mystery he was working on.
George Larson was the name on the file, and his address was written just below it, along with his phone number. Chase gave him a call and asked if he could come over to discuss the case. George was available right then, so Chase left the office immediately. In his attempt to frustrate him, Jeff had just given Chase a huge break. Maybe he’d finally start to learn something about the elusive stone panthers.
George Larson lived about a half an hour from Bend, on a large piece of property. Most of it was rocky hills and canyons, where sagebrush and towering ponderosa pine grew. Chase parked in front of the modest ranch style home and got out. A big black dog barked his welcome and approached Chase, tail wagging. Chase petted the dog for a second and then knocked on the front door.
A nervous looking man in his mid-fifties answered. “Hello, are you from the Folsom Detective Agency?” At Chase’s brief nod, the man ushered him into the living room and motioned for him to sit down on the couch. “I’m George Larson. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been worried sick about this. I know you probably think I’m crazy, worrying so about an old painting, but….”
“Oh no, I don’t at all,” Chase told him seriously. “I know about the importance of the black panther paintings. I’m glad I got this case, as no one else at the agency really knows the importance of this case. Now, tell me how the painting disappeared.” Chase leaned forward, pen ready over his notebook.
“I discovered it was missing Wednesday evening. It hangs above my fireplace. When I got home from work at 5, there was no painting. My house was locked up as tight as it had been when I left, and Bruno, my dog won’t let anyone near the house when I’m away. But he was completely undisturbed when I got home.” George leaned forward also. “How much do you know about the stone panthers?”
Chase squinted at the man for a moment. At this point, who could he trust? “Not much,” he said slowly and tentatively. “I came into possession of a panther coin recently, and I have been fascinated with the legend surrounding them. What do you know about them?”
George sighed. “I found the painting at an antique shop in Sisters. There was a coin imbedded in the frame. I know there were more clues in the painting, and I have been searching for them ever since I got it two months ago.”
“Did you know of the importance of the black panther when you first saw the painting?” Chase asked. This interview was even better than he’d dared to hope.
George heaved a heavy sigh. “Somewhat. I first heard of the stone panthers’ legend five years ago when I moved here. I found a time capsule in a small cave on my property here. In it was a panther coin. The oddness of it intrigued me and I began researching it. There is so little information on the subject, and I hadn’t gotten far until I discovered the painting.”
“Do you still have this coin?” Chase asked.
“I do, and the one from the painting.” George rose and left the room for a moment. When he came back, he was holding two stone coins just like Chase’s. He gave them to him.
The coin was about a half an inch thick and about two inches in diameter. A running panther was cut from stone and embedded into the coin, and a number was engraved above it. Number 2. The other was number 197, with a stalking panther.
“This coin is one of the first.” Chase observed. “As far as I know there are 200 coins, with the panthers all in different positions.” Chase leaned back and fixed George with a steady gaze. “Look, you and I both know this could be dangerous and probably way out of our capabilities. But I’m not going back. I think our combined knowledge of the stone panthers will do us both good.”
George sat down and folded his arms. “Do you even work for the Folsom Detective Agency? This doesn’t seem like something a P.I would be interested in.”
Chase cocked his head. “Let’s just say I like adventure. I’m not too close to my boss. He’s been sticking me with the lamest cases that come to the agency and he thought this one was one of them. He just doesn’t know he did me a big favor. He doesn’t need to know about this. As far as I’m concerned, he can just think I’m hunting down an old antique painting.”
George smiled. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’m willing to pool our resources. And I didn’t get your name?”
“Chase Newton.” Chase held out his hand and the two shook on it.
“Alright, partner. What’s our first move?” George asked. He seemed more relaxed now.
Chase put his notebook on the coffee table. “We know that the thief who stole the painting must be connected to the stone panthers. First thing we’ve got to do in find out how and where he got in. And where was your dog Wednesday? Could he have been somewhere else on the property when it happened?”
“It’s possible, I suppose. He does wander around sometimes.”
George showed Chase all possible exits in the house, and they finally concluded that the thief had probably gone through the living room window.
“Was the window locked when you got home?” Chase asked. They were standing outside, in front of the house.
“No, I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “I should have been more careful with it. I just didn’t think anyone else was actively investigating the stone panthers legend. I mean, it is just a legend after all. There’s no facts, just speculation.”
“Maybe the thief knows something we don’t,” Chase suggested.
Chase hunted around in the planting beneath the window until he found what he was looking for: footprints.
“There it is. Footprints. Now we know the thief entered this way.” Chase took got his camera from his car and took several pictures of the prints.
“I’ll see if I can find out anything from these. I may be able to find out what shoe made them, and where they are sold.”
George nodded. “That would be great. Is there anything I can do?”
Chase frowned. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know if I think of anything. There’s so little to go on at the moment. All we have currently are some footprints.”
George laughed ruefully. “That’s not much. Will you be able to find out who bought them?”
Chase shrugged. “Oh, maybe. I’ll do what I can, and in the meantime, we can hope something else comes up.”
They walked back to his car. Chase got in, but didn’t shut the door. “One last question, who created the painting?” he asked, getting out his notebook again.
“William Cenon,” George told him. “and as far as I can find out, he painted 4 black panther paintings, on request of Malcolm McGuffin. Cenon was a local artist here in Bend in the 1950s. He drew illustrations for the newspaper, and other small things. The four paintings were the only large ones he did.”
“Hmmm, interesting.” Chase got into his truck, but rolled down his window. “Here’s my phone number. I’ve already got yours. I’ll contact you when if I find out anything of interest.”
“Okay. Can we schedule a meeting, say, Saturday at noon?” George suggested. “I might be easier than talking over the phone.
Chase nodded. “That sounds fine. Saturday it is, I’ll see you then.”
Chase was triumphant on his way back to the office. Not only had he gathered valuable information, he had also gained an ally in his case.
Jeff was briefing Chase’s two other coworkers, Harry and Luke about a case they were working on. Chase slipped quietly back to his office and turned on his laptop. He had brought in his notebook, as he wanted to review everything he had learned about this case so far.
He flipped through the pages of notes he’d made earlier, and studied them closely. Between the two them, they still only had three coins, and no painting. Where would he begin to look for the missing painting? He had to get that it back.
The thief had obviously only broken in for the painting as nothing else was missing from George’s house. That meant that whoever the thief was, he knew about the stone panthers, and the mysterious legend that surrounded them.
The best place to start was the antique shop where George had bought the painting. Chase looked it up, found the address, and was heading out of the office when Jeff caught him. “Hey, how is the painting case coming? Found that important panther yet?”
Chase played along. “Nope, but it’s very important to the owner, so this might take me a while. I’m going out to hunt for it right now.”
Jeff looked slightly surprised and unsure at Chase’s response, but he only smiled, and went on his way.
Before long, Chase had pulled up in front of Ash’s Antiques in downtown Sisters. A small bell tinkled above the door as he entered, announcing his arrival. A girl who was sorting out a box of antiques on the front counter looked up and smiled politely. “Hey, do you need any help finding anything?” she asked, around her chewing gum.
“Um, yes, I was looking for a painting, a painting of a black panther. I was told you had one like it some time ago.”
The girl very nearly rolled her eyes. “We’ve had quite a few people asking about them. I guess they’re kinda popular or something. But we did just get another one in yesterday. I think it’s still in the back room. Do you want to look at it?”
“I’d like to buy it!” Chase said, purposefully toning down his excitement. I wonder who is selling the paintings to the shop. It can’t be anyone who knows about them. Unless they’ve taken the clues out of it, and are merely getting rid of them now.
The girl nodded and disappeared into the back room for a moment. She was back soon carrying a large painting in a gilt frame. Really, the painting was ugly, but to Chase, it was beautiful.
“Can you describe some of the people who have been asking about this painting?” Chase asked as he paid for it.
She shrugged. “One fellow comes in a lot. He says he’s collecting the panther paintings. I guess there are quite a few of them. He always wears jeans and cowboy boots and a black baseball cap. He had a beard and his hair is black. What do you want to know for?”
Chase blinked, “Oh, I’m collecting these paintings too, you see.”
“Oh,” she said, bored. “Oh, and a friend came in with him one time, and called the guy Blake.”
Chase smiled at her. “Thanks a lot, you’ve been a great help.”
“No problem,” she said, looking after him as he left.
Chase went back to the office and turned on his laptop once more. A quick search of William Cenon told him nothing more about the panther paintings, and he couldn’t do anything with ‘Blake’ until he had a last name.
He headed home late that afternoon, eager to look over the painting.
His roommate wasn’t home when Chase arrived, thankfully. He unloaded the painting and took it down to his lab in the basement.
Chase’s house was an old fashioned American Foursquare on a 60-acre piece of property. He had purchased it from his grandparents four years ago. They had wanted to downsize to a small home in Bend, and he’d been looking for a place to live, so it all worked out well. His roommate had moved in 2 years ago.
His lab took up all most of the basement. Everything was organized, but it still managed to look messy. Several incomplete projects lay on his work bench, and open books and papers covered his desk top. When at home, Chase spent most of his time in his lab, working on various inventions. Ever since he could remember, he experimented, and built things, but as of yet, nothing had really come to fruition, aside from sometimes aiding him in his detective work.
Chase turned on the lights and sat down at his computer. He opened a file, on which was written all his case notes. He didn’t have much; mostly just speculation. He’d started working on this case two months ago after finding the stone coin in a lava tube on his property. It was a small, short lava tube, and as he sat looking at his computer screen, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d gone in there in the first place. But he’d found the coin, and one thing had led to another. He’d learned a bit about the odd Malcolm McGuffin, his mansion, and the legend of the stone panthers, which he had created. But it was all just rumors.
Chase turned away from his computer to concentrate on the painting. There were two coins imbedded in the frame. He took both of them out and studied them. Numbers 157 and 156. Now they had 5 coins in total. Only 195 to go, he thought, a little grimly
A thorough search of the painting revealed no other secrets however, and Chase eventually gave up. Now he was at a dead end-again. He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. I could go back to the mansion, I suppose, but there really isn’t much there. Although, to be fair, I didn’t spend much time there. It was really to dark to see anything. Maybe a more thorough search of the mansion would be a good idea. But the lava tube, there wasn’t anything in there, save a lot of fallen rocks. There might be more information there hidden somewhere in the depths, but then again……… I probably shouldn’t go into the caverns again without more supplies, that’s for sure. I’m fortunate to have found a way out. Maybe I could go with George. Chase stroked his chin thoughtfully. Malcolm McGuffin, the former owner of the old stone mansion, had definitely been an odd man. What sort of a person created passageways underneath a mansion? Especially since those passageways didn’t even really lead anywhere important!
Chase glanced up to the newspaper clipping that was pinned to his wall. The headline read in bold black letters, ‘Local Scientist Claims to have Discovered New Metal’. It was dated April, 1957. McGuffin’s discovery was generally thought to be fake, but Chase believed the metal; which McGuffin had called ‘tescelerite’; was quite real.
There was so much he didn’t know about this case. Where should he begin to find out more?