Mayhem in May

by Camilla Chafer

"You can't think of any reason he would want access?"

  "None. Maybe my boss can think of something but I can't."

  "Are there any other exits from that room?" Detective Logan waited, his pen poised above his notepad.

  "Yes, there's one on the opposite side of the room to these doors," I said, pointing. "It opens into another smaller exhibition space, and there're also doors into the foyer."

  "Were they locked?"

  "No, they were just closed. We pushed potted plants in front of the foyer doors to stop people from trying to get a sneak peek before we cut the ribbon."

  "Do those doors open in or out?"

  "In."

  "So, someone could have opened the doors and stepped around the plants?"

  "Yes, that wouldn't be too difficult."

  "What about a camera system?"

  "We don't have one. We only have a security alarm that is activated every night on closing and deactivated every morning."

  "You don't have cameras in the rooms to watch over your visitors?"

  "We're not that kind of museum. Our insurers do an annual check to make sure we're fully covered and the security measures are in force but they've never required us to install cameras."

  "How do you make sure people don't steal stuff?"

  "Most exhibits are inside secure glass cases and one of our volunteers will sit in the rooms if things are accessible, partly to monitor guests and partly to answer questions and give short talks. We rarely have an attempted theft."

  Detective Logan made a note before he looked up again, his face impassive. "Could any of those volunteers have been in that room?"

  "No, I don't think so. Several of them are here tonight and I saw all of them in the library before I opened the doors."

  "But they could have gone in earlier?"

  "Well... I guess so. Detective Logan, I'm not sure I'm being any help to you." It seemed most of my answers were useless.

  "One last thing," he said, producing a cell phone and holding it up so I could see the screen. "Do you recognize the weapon?"

  The photo was a close-up of the knife handle, but there was no mistaking the crimson stain still visible in the corner. The handle was small and beautifully carved, inlaid with a series of small jewels. I saw it before and I knew exactly where. "It's one of ours," I told him. "There's a set of three in the weaponry exhibit. They were donated to the museum several years ago."

  "By whom?"

  "I don't remember, but it was a local resident. My boss, Artie, might recall the name."

  "You said all the exhibits are kept inside glass cases. Was this knife also in one?"

  "Yes. It's a freestanding rectangular case with a lid that locks. Oh, no!" I gulped as I remembered something I meant to deal with earlier.

  Detective Logan studied me closely. "What?"

  "I noticed a case in the weaponry exhibit open earlier. I closed it and made a mental note to collect the keys to lock it. I thought someone just forgot to close it. Now that I think about it, that's where the dagger was usually kept."

  "Show me," instructed the detective.

  I took the detective the long route but even that only killed a few minutes extra before we arrived in front of the case. It was closed, just as I left it but still unlocked since, in the chaos of the evening, I forgot to collect the keys.

  "Do you see anything missing?" asked Detective Logan.

  I nodded and pointed, my finger hovering above the glass lid. "A dagger is missing. There're only two here and there should be three. See how the remaining two match the one in your photo?"

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes, see this card here?" I said, pointing to the neatly printed square inside the case. "It states there are three daggers and there are corresponding number markers for each of the daggers. Number three is missing."

  "Why didn't you report it missing when you noticed the case was open earlier?"

  "I didn't realize it at the time. I just saw the case was open and I closed it. I didn't take an inventory. I'm sorry to say, I was in a rush to hear Artie's speech and I didn't even notice one was missing."

  "When was the last time you were in this room before this evening? Or you had cause to go inside the case?"

  I thought about that. "Yesterday," I said. "I walked through and before you ask, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

  "Who else would have access to this room today?"

  "Anybody," I said despondently. "It wasn't the main attraction for this evening, but there was nothing to stop our guests from coming back here if they went exploring. Plus, the museum was open as it normally is during the day. I think someone would have said something if they saw a case open and one of the volunteers would have been stationed here. I can get you the employee schedule."

  "Thanks, that would be helpful." Detective Logan made a note. "I heard there was an argument tonight. Can you tell me what that was about?"

  I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. I was waiting for the detective to ask about that since it didn't look good. However, it wasn't something I could hide. Everyone heard me arguing with Lance. It was hardly a secret. "Lance and I got into it because he was promoted very unexpectedly to the job I'd been promised."

  "Unexpectedly?"

  "Unexpected to me!" I clarified. "Artie, my boss, was surprised too."

  "And that was the nature of your argument?"

  "Yes. We said a few things. I accused him of stealing my ideas to get the job and Lance threatened to fire me as soon as he took up the post. Oh, and--" I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment "--I told Lance I'd sooner kill him than work for him."

  Detective Logan looked up and raised his eyebrows but I was sure he'd already heard about the nature of the argument.

  "Obviously, I didn't follow through!" I said quickly. "I would never do something like that!"

  Detective Logan glanced towards the room where Lance lay dead.

  "I didn't do it," I said, firmer now.

  "Can you tell me where you were between the last time you saw Lance and when you discovered his body."

  "Sure. I exited the mezzanine into the hallway upstairs and took a few minutes to calm down; then I returned downstairs via the main staircase where I ran into Karen. We both went into the library and mingled before I gave a short tour to Ethan Ray, our architect. We both returned to the library for Artie's speech."

  "A private tour? Isn't that a little unusual?"

  "I was embarrassed by the Lance debacle so it made sense to keep busy." I didn't add, and to avoid hearing everyone whispering about me. "That lasted around fifteen minutes. When we came back, George presented Artie with his retirement gift and then Artie cut the ribbon to the new exhibit. I opened the doors."

  "Did anyone see you and Ethan Ray?"

  "I don't know. I don't think so."

  Detective Logan made another note. "One last thing," he said, looking up. "Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted Lance dead?"

  "Lance wasn't very well liked here," I told him, "and I'm sorry to say that but it's true. He was rude, egotistical, and lazy. But no, I can't think of anyone who would want to kill him. I've known everyone working or volunteering at the museum for years and they're all good people."

  "What about amongst the other guests? Did any of them have a beef with Lance?"

  "I don't know them well enough to say but I can't imagine any one of them murdering a man." Even as I said it, I knew one of them had.

  "Thanks for your time," said Detective Logan, shutting his notepad.

  "Is this where you tell me not to leave town?" I quipped, wishing I hadn't when he fixed me with a stony gaze.

  "Should I?"

  "No, Detective," I muttered weakly.

  When the detective left, probably to interview more people and hear more about my loud transgression with Lance, I hurried back to the lobby where Karen and Artie waited. I was surprised to see Ethan with them.

  "There you are," sai
d Artie, reaching for my hand and drawing me closer. He patted my hands warmly. "I was worried about you. Is everything okay? What did the detective say?"

  "I think he asked me all the standard questions," I told them.

  "Did you tell him about the fight?" asked Karen.

  I nodded. "Of course. It's not like it was a secret but if I could go back in time and swallow my words, I would."

  "You don't have to worry at all," said Ethan. "I'm your alibi. No one can accuse you of a thing."

  I nodded gratefully but the few minutes between leaving the mezzanine and seeing Karen swam into my head. I was alone the entire time. Would the detective think that was long enough for me to grab the dagger, hurry after Lance, stab him, and then return to Karen? Surely only a cold-blooded killer could act that fast. I knew I wasn't that kind of person, but Detective Logan didn't. Plus, it didn't help that I could easily have lied about accessing the dagger case. I took another deep breath and forced a weak smile onto my face. "I fully trust Detective Logan will find out who did it," I said as two elderly ladies walked past us, giving me the most suspicious side glance.

  "Don't worry about them," said Karen. "There must be at least ten people above you on the list who wanted to kill Lance."

  "None of them announced it so loudly," I pointed out but that reminded me; another announcement needed some explanation. "Artie, did you find out what's going on with the board?"

  "About Lance filling my shoes and overlooking you?" Artie shook his head. "I didn't get a chance to talk to anyone. I'll call them in the morning and let you know. I don't imagine the museum will be open tomorrow so I'm going to suggest none of you come in. I'll post a notice on the door."

  "I can't remember the last time we shut the museum on a working day," said Karen. She shook her head, pursing her lips.

  "It was ten years ago," said Artie. "We closed the museum because several people swore they could smell gas. Turns out someone stuffed a tuna melt sandwich behind a radiator." I suppressed a nervous giggle at his tired sigh.

  "If you want to keep busy, we could go to lunch and talk about the plans?" suggested Ethan.

  "That's a good idea. Artie, Karen, why don't we all do that? We could meet at Belle Rose." If I sat home all day, I would simply obsess over the evening's awful events.

  "Great!" said Artie.

  "If you think I can help, I'll be there," agreed Karen as both smiled at Ethan.

  "It's a date," Ethan said, nodding even as he frowned. "Wonderful."

  Ethan excused himself a few minutes later but Artie, Karen and I hung around until the last guests left, leaving only Detective Logan and the crime scene people he instructed to survey the scene. Finally, just as my heels began to ache, Artie ushered Karen and me out the door, insisting he would lock up or make arrangements with the detective. I hated leaving him there on what should have been his big party send-off but he insisted he didn't mind.

  Karen and I shared a taxi and fifteen minutes later, I was in the hallway of my small house, easing off my shoes.

  "Mom, is that you?" called my elder daughter, Leah.

  "What would you do if I said no?" I called back as she appeared at the top of the stairs.

  "Barricade myself in Brooke's bedroom with my cell phone and call the cops," she replied. "I do pay attention to your rules but it's not like we live in the crime capital of America!"

  "Feels like it," I muttered.

  "How was the party? Any cute guys?"

  "Artie's cute," I replied, the same way I usually did when my girls teased me about finding a man. Only this time, an image of Ethan Ray popped into my head. Now was not the time to think about cute guys!

  "Artie's a dinosaur. A cuddly dinosaur," snorted Leah. She sat on the top step of the staircase and waited while I took off my jacket and deposited my bag on the small bench.

  "Something happened tonight," I started, knowing she would find out tomorrow. The murder would probably be a big splash for the town newspaper.

  "I knew it. You met someone!"

  "No!" I rolled my eyes. "If I ever do, you will be the last to know. Something else happened."

  "What?"

  "Lance Fleming was killed."

  "Lance? Killed? Lance the ass?"

  "Leah!"

  "What? Everyone thinks so! It doesn't change because he's dead. What happened?" Leah tucked her arms around her knees and waited.

  "Someone stabbed him. He was dead when we found him," I told her, keeping it brief and to the point. There was no profit in scaring her. But maybe she shouldn't start the job at the museum just yet. I shuddered to think that the killer might be someone I knew.

  "Did they catch who did it?"

  "No, not yet, but I'm sure they will." I walked upstairs and sat next to Leah and put my arms around her shoulders. She leaned her head on my shoulder, her curls bouncing onto mine.

  "Why do you say he's an ass?" I asked.

  "Last time I came to the museum, he said I was pretty cute for a fifteen-year-old and I should look him up when I'm eighteen." Leah stuck her fingers in her mouth and pretended to vomit.

  I pulled a face. "He said that?"

  "I swear on my life."

  Anger bristled inside me. "What a jerk!"

  "That's nothing compared to what he said to Jennifer's parents. He told her mom she was suitable for an affair because Jennifer’s dad was a boring, little toad."

  "No way!"

  "Yep. Jennifer's parents are crazy about each other. Lance was a horrible man."

  "I know." I squeezed her shoulders and wondered who else Lance had insulted recently. Could one of them have gotten so furious that they killed him in revenge for his rude affronts? If so, I was starting to think Karen was right. There was a long list of people ahead of me in the queue to kill him. Unfortunately, in a small town like this, there was also a good chance I knew them. Who, amongst my friends, colleagues, and the museum's guests, could be a killer?

  Chapter Five

  The question troubled me through the night and was still bothering me by the time I arrived at Belle Rose for lunch. Instead of my usual neat dress or smart pants, I opted for a pair of jeans, a casual t-shirt and a light jacket. Although I swept my hair into a tight ponytail, soft tendrils of curls still managed to escape. I just had to hope that my pleasant walk to the restaurant wouldn't result in my hair looking like I'd been running through a wind tunnel.

  Ethan waited outside, similarly dressed in jeans and a light sweater, a drawing pad under his arm. He raised a hand when he saw me crossing the road. "How did you sleep?" he asked, stifling a yawn as if answering his own question.

  "Not great," I admitted. "A lot of things were playing on my mind." I didn't add that I was relieved we had a lunch meeting to attend, rather than staying at home and obsessing over it. All I could see when I closed my eyes was Lance's lifeless body. He may have been a jerk and a creep, but did he deserve to die in such a terrible way?

  "It's the shock. I think I only got a couple of hours sleep and I feel selfish for even complaining about that."

  "I wonder if the police made any headway," I mused. That was better than the thought I just had: I doubt Lance would have lost any sleep if I'd been the one murdered.

  "What did the detective say to you last night?"

  "He had a lot of questions. I told him about the fight and he wanted to check where I was between then and finding Lance. I told him everything, of course. It's not like the fight was any secret."

  Ethan chuckled. "I'm sure every single guest can confirm that. Plus, I'm your alibi for the rest of the time. I think you're safe." He checked his watch. "Shall we go inside? We can get drinks while we wait."

  I nodded in agreement and we walked inside. Belle Rose was a popular spot and half-full already but apparently Ethan thought ahead and booked us a table by the window. We sat opposite each other and Ethan laid the large drawing pad he carried between us. "Since I couldn't sleep and kept thinking a lot about the museum, I did some preliminar
y drawings last night. I should warn you, nothing is to scale, and I know we didn't take a look at the buildings the museum wants to convert, so they are just rough sketches based on my interpretations of what the space might look like."

  "I'm impressed you already started!"

  "I hope the museum still wants to go ahead, given what happened last night."

  I glanced up as I took the drawing pad. "I'm sure they will. The funding is all in place and everyone is excited about the development. You're the final keystone before construction starts." Plus, now Lance won't interfere. There it was, that horrible little thought again. I swallowed guiltily. I hated to speak ill of the dead even if they were awful.

  To distract myself, I opened the pad. The first drawing was a simple pencil sketch of a long gallery space. He added ceiling beams and a portion of one wall was detailed brickwork as if the plaster had been stripped back, leaving the walls bare and whitewashed. An outline of a person was gazing at something on a wall and a parent and child were pointing to something in a case. I flipped to the next page and the next. Drawings of an entrance with a small reception desk, then an opening onto the courtyard and gardens, a neat, little cafe, the details in colored pencil. The cafe again but this time without tables and the chairs set out in front of a podium where a woman with wild, curly hair appeared to be giving a speech. I looked again. Was that me?

  "These are beautiful," I told him. "I can't believe you sketched all of this last night."

  "They're just an artist's impression of how the space could look and be used. When I've had a more critical inspection and read through the commissioning requirements again, I'll produce the actual architectural drawings."

  "I'm sure they'll be wonderful! Have you shown these to Artie yet?"

  "No, you're the first to see them. Speaking of Artie..." Ethan raised his hand and waved. I turned as Artie hurried towards us and made a fuss of shaking hands before he took the chair next to me. Unlike our casual attire, he still sported a white shirt and bowtie.

  "I'm sorry to keep you both waiting," he said. "I saw Karen in her car just outside and I think she's still hunting for a parking spot. With the summer tourist season just beginning, she's going to struggle."