Mystic Warrior

“Yeah.”

“Krauzer is telling the detectives that he did it.” The police officer thrust his chin toward the front of the apartment building.

The director stood between two detectives and was enjoying the attention he was getting from members of the local news media, who were held back by yellow tape.

Annja smiled. “He loves telling stories, so we’ll let him have his glory as long as he can hang on to it.” She had responded only, “No comment,” every time a reporter thrust a microphone into her face and they’d quickly gravitated to Krauzer. “But in case Melanie Harp or Barney tell you later it was me, it was me.”

“Good to know. I’ll clue the detectives in.”

Nobody was getting Barney’s side of the story. Or Melanie Harp’s. The actress had tried to get access to the media, but she’d been locked in the back of another patrol car. “So what makes this glass bowling ball so important?” Cranmer asked.

“It’s a prop in Krauzer’s new movie,” Annja said. “It’s the scrying crystal of an elf witch.”

“What’s the movie?”

“A Diversion of Dragons.”

Cranmer crossed his arms and leaned against the car beside Annja. “Fantasy?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t wait to tell the chief.”

“Why?”

Cranmer grinned. “Krauzer kind of mentioned he had a part in the new movie the chief might be great for.”

“So Krauzer thinks a part in a movie is a get-out-of-jail-free card?”

Cranmer nodded.

“Is it?”

“Yep.”

“That doesn’t sound fair, does it?”

Cranmer grinned. “You still believe in fair?”

“That does sound kind of funny, doesn’t it?”

“Everybody wants to be in front of the camera.”

“How about you?”

“I was a bit player in a lot of cop shows when I was younger. I got over it,” Cranmer said. “So tell me about the crystal ball.”

“Scrying crystal.”

Cranmer shrugged. “I’ve arrested fortune-telling con artists with bigger balls.”

Annja raised her eyebrows.

“I’m a fan of your show,” Cranmer said after a moment’s hesitation. “I was a history major at college before I spent time in the military and became a police officer.” He nodded at the scrying crystal. “I noticed you weren’t just looking at that like it was a prop.”

Annja turned it in her hands, feeling the heft of it and the irregularities along the surface. When she’d first glimpsed the object, she’d gotten a sense of antiquity. After handling it, she was pretty sure that initial impression had been correct.

“I don’t think it is.”

“So what do you suppose it is?”

“Serendipity. Sometimes when you’re looking for one thing, you discover another by accident. You’ve heard of Juan Cabrillo?”

Cranmer nodded “Sailed with the conquistadores, with Hernán Cortés, and later explored the West Coast while searching for a trade route to China.”

“And his last voyage?”

“In 1542 he sailed most of the West Coast and ended up on what we call Santa Catalina Island, intending to stay the winter. Some of his men got attacked by Tongva warriors around Christmas Eve. Cabrillo stepped off the ship and splintered his shin, ended up getting gangrene and dying there. He never made it back to Europe. On San Miguel Island, somebody found a headstone that might have been his.”

“Now I’m impressed.”

“I’ve got four kids. My wife helped them with math and science. I helped them with history and English... They like Chasing History’s Monsters, too. I think my older two boys like it for the other host, but my daughter wants to be you when she grows up. When I tell her I met you today, she’s going to freak.”

He pulled his smartphone from his shirt pocket.

“Do you mind...?”

“Sure.” Annja stood beside Cranmer and he got the phone ready. “Wait!” She reached up and took her hair down and ran her fingers through it. “Okay.” She smiled, Cranmer smiled, and he took the selfie. Twice.

“Thanks.” Cranmer put the phone back in his pocket.

“How does Juan Cabrillo fit in with the elf witch’s scrying crystal?”

“Cabrillo’s logbook of the voyage along the West Coast was never found,” Annja said. “There’s only a concise summation made by Andrés de Urdaneta, a Spanish navigator who also worked on finding a way to sail around the world after Magellan’s crew managed.”

“Another ship’s captain who didn’t finish a voyage.”

“Exactly. Anyway, one of the local professors of history at Cal State has some old journal pages that one of his students said had been in the hands of his maternal grandmother’s family for years. They were an heirloom of some sort, saved in a safe-deposit box that ended up bequeathed to the student in a will. He asked Dr. Orta to have a look at it. Dr. Orta had read I was in LA working with Krauzer, so he called me.”

“He’s a fan of the show?”

“Claims to be, but he’s more interested in history. The papers Dr. Orta showed me claim to be from one of the mates aboard the San Salvador, a man named Julio Gris. Gris was a treasure hunter and in the papers he states that he found a lead to a lost treasure.”

“But this could be a hoax.”

Annja held up the scrying crystal. “It could be, except the papers describe this perfectly.”

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