That was when I stopped breathing.
The heavy wooden shaft wasn’t solid. It was completely hollowed out.
I frowned, twisting the broken piece in the afternoon sunlight. Something metallic was wedged tight inside the dark core. I tapped the wood against the brick retaining wall, once, twice.
With a soft metallic scrape, a heavy, cold object slid out of the handle and dropped perfectly into my palm.
It was a key.
But it wasn’t a standard brass padlock key or a cheap piece of aluminum. It was machined from solid, matte-grey titanium, impossibly heavy, with complex geometric teeth that looked like they belonged to a high-security bank vault. Etched deep into the flat metal head were three characters: B-17.
I stared at it, my mind racing to make sense of what I was holding.
Why would a minimum-wage groundskeeper hide a titanium vault key inside his walking stick?
My first thought was incredibly uncharitable, but given the circumstances, it felt logical. Elias was poor. He worked a grueling physical job. Prescott Academy was a fortress of wealth, filled with valuable artifacts, donor gifts, and expensive equipment. Had Elias stolen a master key? Was he hiding something he shouldn’t have?
I pocketed the key, grabbed the two halves of the cane, and called Bella. We walked briskly back toward the main administration building. I needed to see Headmaster Vance immediately. Not just about Kevin’s assault, but about whatever the hell I had just pulled out of the dirt.
As I walked down the central hallway of the admin building, my boots echoing on the polished marble, I passed the Founder’s Gallery. The wall was lined with oil portraits of the men who had built the academy over a century ago.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Hanging in the center of the wall was a massive portrait of Arthur Prescott, the ruthless industrialist who had founded the school in 1890. He was painted sitting in a leather wingback chair, glaring sternly at the viewer.
Resting in his right hand was an ornate, mother-of-pearl cane.
I looked down at the broken pieces in my hand. The pattern of the pearl inlays was identical. The brass tip was identical.
Elias hadn’t just broken his own cane. He was carrying a priceless historical artifact that belonged to the school’s founder.
My false assumption instantly hardened into a certainty: Elias was stealing from the academy. He must have found the founder’s cane in a storage closet, realized its value, and started using it. And whatever this titanium key opened, he had hidden it inside the stolen antique to keep it safe. Kevin Baxter was a monster, but he might have accidentally exposed a massive theft.
I left Bella in my office with a bowl of water and marched straight up the stairs to the Headmaster’s suite.
Vance’s secretary, Mrs. Higgins, stood up from her desk as I approached. “David, Mr. Vance is reviewing donor allocations. He cannot be disturbed.”
“He’s going to want to be disturbed for this, Margaret,” I said, bypassing her desk and pushing open the heavy mahogany doors to the inner office.
Headmaster Arthur Vance looked up from his paperwork, his silver hair perfectly coiffed, his tailored suit immaculate. He frowned, taking off his reading glasses. “David. I sincerely hope there is a fire in the building, because otherwise, you are severely testing my patience.”
“Ten minutes ago, Kevin Baxter assaulted Elias out on the promenade,” I said, walking to his desk. “Kevin shoved him into a wall and broke his cane.”
Vance sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked annoyed, but not outraged. “Elias is fine, I assume? David, you know how these athletes get. Kevin is under a lot of pressure with the playoffs coming up. Senator Baxter just pledged two million for the new athletic center. I will have a stern talk with the boy, but I am not going to ruin his season over a misunderstanding with a janitor.”
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding, Arthur. It was battery,” I snapped. I dropped the two broken halves of the mother-of-pearl cane onto Vance’s pristine desk. “And there’s a bigger problem. I think Elias has been stealing from the school.”