"Perhaps he wanted something to read?"
"Lance was a film guy, not a reader. He said reading was boring."
"Could he have taken it to his office for any reason?"
"I suppose so but again, I can't think of why. We didn't have any loan requests outstanding. A loan request is when another institution asks to borrow something of ours, or someone wishes to study an object," I explained.
"He could have returned it."
"I guess but unless someone saw him on the mezzanine after he was with me, I don't see how he could have."
"And you don't know the title of the book?"
"No. I could figure it out if I had access to the library."
"Is there any possibility Lance might have stolen it?"
I paused. Before Karen told me about Lance opening display cases, I would have said no, but now I couldn't be sure. Yet, I couldn't say any of that to the detective without possibly incriminating Karen.
"You thought of something," said Detective Logan.
"I was just wondering," I said, brushing aside his astute observation. "I don't like to think Lance would have stolen from the museum but I guess it's possible."
"The museum will be cleared for access soon. I have some other leads to follow this afternoon but why don't we meet at the museum and we can take a look in his office together and also on the mezzanine?"
"I'd appreciate that, thank you. I have a list on my computer at the museum with the books organized by each shelf so I should be able to work out what's missing very quickly." I stood and as I did, the detective passed me a card.
"I already have your number," I told him.
"This is a crime scene cleaning business," he said. "They're based in Hallowell but they'll come out here. I'm sure the museum would rather hire a professional."
I grimaced. "Oh, yes. Of course. I'll pass it along to my boss." I stopped at the door, turning, surprised to see Detective Logan had followed me there. I hadn't heard him move. "Thanks for not saying I'm being silly or it's nothing."
"I like to keep an open mind," he said. "There's one last thing. I spoke to Ethan Ray yesterday and he says he didn't join you on the tour until at least a few minutes after your argument with Lance. You met him downstairs."
"That's right. I'm not sure how long after it was but not long."
"Were you with anyone during those few minutes?"
"No. I took a few minutes alone to calm down."
"And where was Lance during that time?"
"I have no idea. I lost him as soon as he stepped out of the mezzanine and into the hallway."
Detective Logan gave me that long, cool look again. Then he said, "I'll meet you at the museum tomorrow."
~
"Oh, Tess!" My friend, Janey Packton, sat on my couch and shook her head, laughing. The French doors were open to the garden and the cool, early summer breeze brought in delicious scents from my yard. I wasn't the gardener. That was my younger daughter, Brooke, who planned to study horticulture at university. Since I did not have green thumbs, I gave her a small budget and unleashed her on our small yard. Within a year, she transformed it into a lush oasis of color and texture, perfect for enjoying moments like these. I did, however, insist on getting Nate Minoso to lay a circular paved patio for our garden furniture but Brooke even objected to his designing that.
"Don't 'Oh, Tess' me!" I protested.
"I have to agree with Karen, Ethan asked you on a date. Tim is friends with him. He's cute. You should call him up and say you changed your mind."
"Hmm, I don't know."
"When was the last time you went on a date?" asked Janey.
"Last month!"
She fixed me with a disbelieving look. "Really?"
"Okay, seven months ago." I shuddered. The man in question was a tourist visiting the museum on a family trip with his siblings. We'd gone for drinks and he spent a whole hour telling me how boring small towns were and he couldn't imagine rotting away in one. Then he mentioned how hard it was dating especially since there were so many “desperate single moms” out there. Since I couldn't imagine anyone being desperate for his company, this single mom made an excuse, went home and blocked his number.
"You should start dating."
"You sound like Leah and Brooke."
"I sound like everyone you know," laughed Janey. "It'll be fun. I met Tim and he's great."
"He is great," I agreed. Janey and Tim worked together at The Maple Tree Hotel and although they hadn't been dating long, everything seemed to be going well for them.
"And things have never been better since I met him. I got promoted at work with a raise to match and Tim loves the kids. Life can change for you too."
"I don't want my life to change. I like my life."
"But do you love it?" Janey pressed.
I thought about it. Of course, I wanted the promotion and yesterday that was ripped from under my feet. Now with the post available again -- a thought that gave me a horrible guilty feeling -- I wasn't sure I wanted it by potential default. The extra money wouldn't hurt. I could plan a bigger vacation with the girls and treat them to a trip to the city, things we didn't often have the money for. It would be nice to have some adult company too, although I had a nice collection of friends. As for romance? I'd never been the “wine and dine” type but would it be so bad to hold hands with an attractive man? To feel that rush of excitement? In only a few years, both Leah and Brooke would be away at college and my home would be empty... I let the thought trail off. I couldn't imagine life without them. Perhaps thinking ahead wouldn't be such a bad thing.
"Anyway, enough about that. You know the real reason I'm here."
"Nope," I lied, although I had a pretty good idea that the news of Lance's murder had already spread around our small town.
"Who killed Lance Fleming?" she asked. Before I could reply, she continued, "I don't know how Detective Logan will solve this. He's a clever man but there must be a queue of people who wanted to see Lance snuffed out. How does he weed though so many suspects?"
"Do you think there's that many people who would actually kill Lance?"
Janey raised her eyebrows. "Have you met him?"
I laughed.
She continued, "When Lance first came to Calendar, he stayed at the hotel for two weeks. The only person to upset that many people since him was that awful woman who got killed there back in March. He never stopped reminding us that he stayed at wonderful hotels around the world and our little hick town hotel couldn't compete."
"Your hotel is delightful!"
"I know! If he hadn't moved into an apartment, I think all our staff would be on the suspect list. Fortunately, I haven't seen Lance in a few weeks but Don, the Deputy Day Manager, said Lance almost hit him in his car speeding out of town two weeks ago."
"He did?"
Janey nodded. "Don said he looked like he was in a real hurry. He hoped that he was leaving for good but no such luck... oh. Oops," she grimaced, realizing what she just said.
"The board told me Lance was promoted to Manager," I told her.
Janey's mouth dropped. "No. Way."
"It's true. He came to my office acting all nice, said the board wanted to see me and wished me luck. I thought that was weird but I figured he was kissing ass since I was about to officially become Manager. Then, when I got there, they told me they gave the job to Lance."
"But... how?"
"I truly don't know. Even Artie was shocked."
"I'll bet he was. I got the impression he didn't like Lance one bit."
"I know but Artie was always very professional about it. He's not an easy man to rattle."
"He sounded rattled last week when I overheard him talking to... Oh, you know, I probably shouldn't say. You'll think I'm gossiping."
"Not at all. What did you overhear Artie say?"
"It's awful, now that I think about it."
"Janey..."
Janey huffed a breath. "I came to the museum last week to see
if you wanted to go for lunch. It was pretty quiet and Karen said I could go up to your office. You weren't there so I wrote you a note but as I was leaving it I could hear Artie's voice. It was that day when it was really warm and your window was open and I guess his was too because I heard him on the phone. He must have been because I couldn't hear what the other person said at all."
"I remember getting the note. Wednesday?"
"That's right. I know it was wrong but I heard Lance's name and he's such a jerk that I listened. Artie said Lance was nothing but trouble and one day someone was going to give him exactly what he deserved and he was tempted to do it himself."
"That's not exactly a declaration of intent," I pointed out.
"I know but then Artie said since he was an old man and well liked, he'd get away with teaching Lance a lesson."
I pulled a face. "Oh."
"I'm sure it's nothing. Artie would never... or would he?"
"I don't think so. Plus, I'm sure he was surrounded by people all evening given that it was also his party. He was probably just letting off steam when he thought no one was around," I said. Artie hadn't mentioned anything to me last week about being frustrated with Lance but I'd been preoccupied with getting the files ready for the audit we needed to conduct at the end of the month. I wondered who Artie was talking to. Certainly not someone at the museum. Whom then? A board member? His wife? And what did Lance do to incur his ire?
"At least you have an alibi, my friend," said Janey, smiling now. "Everyone saw you, right?"
"Most of the evening, yes, but everyone also witnessed me having a big fight with Lance, saying something I shouldn't have, not to mention a small amount of time where I was alone. Detective Logan questioned me about it again today."
"He can't possibly think you killed Lance!"
That was the problem. I thought there was a very real possibility he did think I killed Lance. I had the motive; everyone heard me threatening him for getting the promotion. I had the means to get the dagger his killer used and I had the opportunity in those few minutes to kill him in a rage and rush back to the party to give Ethan the tour. Yet Artie and Karen also appeared to have the motive, means and opportunity.
Could I trust Detective Logan to look beyond what must appear so obvious to him? I wasn't sure, but I knew I couldn’t to wait around to see. I had a killer to find.
Chapter Seven
Once again, I didn't get much sleep and when I did, I had a horrible nightmare. Detective Logan was looming over me, his face as red as his hair, accusing me of killing Lance then masterfully rejoining the party like a cold-blooded psychopath, pretending nothing happened.
As soon as I sent the girls off to school, I dressed in my usual work clothes and walked briskly over to the museum, worrying all the way if Detective Logan thought I was being too helpful. First, by telling him about the missing book and then by agreeing to search for it with him. That was just the sort of thing a real murderer would do to keep tabs on the case! Or at least, that's what the murderers did in “Columbo,” my only reference material for profiles of murderers.
I wasn't the first to arrive at the museum, which surprised me, but I was glad to see Artie standing by the doors. He called yesterday afternoon to tell me the police hadn’t cleared the museum for opening and even if they had, the board decided we should remain closed for the rest of the week as a show of respect to Lance. He waved as I approached him and tipped the brim of his Panama hat upwards.
"I thought I'd wait for you," he said. "I told Karen to take another day off since there won't be much for her to do without any visitors to look after. She said she would keep the volunteers informed so it will only be you and me today."
"And Detective Logan," I told him as I checked my watch. "He should be here any minute."
"He didn't mention it yesterday when he called."
"Perhaps he forgot."
"I don't think that man forgets much. Let's go inside before anyone comes over to ask awkward questions. I'm sure the Calendar phone tree did its best to burn out the telecom infrastructure overnight." Artie produced the key and unlocked the door, quickly closing it behind us. He tapped the alarm code into the control panel but left the closed sign on the door. "Can you put up a temporary notice on the door? Maybe do something neat on your computer?" he asked.
"I'll print something," I agreed. It would take me all of a few minutes. Artie would spend half the day stabbing at his keyboard and even then, there wouldn't be anything to show at the end of it.
"Thank goodness. I can never get anything to print from my computer."
"That's because you unplugged your keyboard last time you tried," I laughed, remembering a very confused half hour I spent wondering why none of my keyboard prompts were working while Artie complained that typewriters never had that problem. He didn't seem to think it ironic that a typewriter was little more than a very slow printer.
"I know that now," said Artie.
I produced the card for the cleaning crew that Detective Logan had given me and offered it to my boss. "Detective Logan thought we should call these people," I said.
Artie took one look at it and grimaced. "I'm sure our emergency budget wasn't intended to hire crime scene cleaners but I don't see how anyone can complain. I sure as hell don't want to go in there," he added with a shudder as we both glanced towards the exhibition room. The plants I dragged in front of the doors on that fateful night had been pulled to either side and I could see a smudgy, black coating on the doors that I could only assume was fingerprint dust.
"I'll call them," I said.
"What is Detective Logan coming by for? Does he need to interview us again? I can't think of anything I didn't tell him the night Lance... well, you know."
"I asked him to come. Artie, I think Lance might have stolen something and I told Detective Logan."
Artie stilled. "Like what?"
"That night on the mezzanine, I saw him take a book from the bookcase and slide it into his jacket when he thought no one was watching. With all the ensuing shock, I didn't remember it until yesterday, after we had lunch. I asked Detective Logan if the book was found on Lance's person and he said no."
"Why was Lance taking a book? He had no reason to."
"I thought you might have asked him. Or perhaps he needed to photograph one for some kind of marketing purpose," I said but even as the words came out, I knew that wasn't true. Karen's claims only added to my suspicions.
Artie huffed. "No, I wouldn't ask him to do a job I could do myself. That man had no respect for the fine things of this museum. Plus, he has to run all his marketing ideas past me and he never mentioned anything about showing off our library. All his ideas lately were about throwing lavish parties and flying out to this place or another for meetings and conferences. Expenditures we just couldn't cover."
"So why would he take a book?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. Which one was it?"
"I don't know. Detective Logan and I are going to try and figure that out."
"Make sure you put it back when you find it. It's probably in his office somewhere. There's our detective now." Artie shuffled over to the doors and let the detective in before he could knock. Wearing jeans and a sweater, his badge visible on his belt, Detective Logan looked a lot more refreshed than I felt. He pushed back his red hair from where it flopped onto his forehead and nodded to us both.
"Did you catch the killer yet?" Artie demanded as he locked the door behind him.
"No sir, I have not, but please be assured we're doing everything we can to identify and locate the perpetrator. Mrs. Hernandez, do you have the list of books?"
"She's a 'Ms.'," said Artie. "I like this newfangled title for ladies. No one needs to know you're single, do they, Tess?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, they don't, Artie. Detective Logan, please call me Tess. I need to get the inventory list from my office. Lance's office is next to mine so we can look for the book while we're there. I could be wrong," I added.
I almost hoped I was even if it would be embarrassing.
"Lead the way," said Detective Logan.
As we walked up, Artie prattled a steady patter of "what was the world coming to?" and "how long did it take to catch a killer anyway?" If Detective Logan got annoyed by it, he didn't show it. When we reached the offices, Artie added, "Glad you made it home in one piece, young man. Your parents were worried about you but so proud too."
"You know my parents?" asked Detective Logan.
"Knew them both. God rest your mother's soul. A fine lady. And your father is a good man. Known him for many years now. Give him my regards, won't you?"
"I will, sir."
"I'll be in my office if you need anything. I don't plan on moving except for lunch." Artie ambled off with one hand raised in a wave.
"This is Lance's office. Mine is just there," I said, pointing to the next door. "Should I get the list first?"
"Please." Detective Logan followed me inside and while I sat behind my desk and started up my computer, he turned his back to me, examining my bookshelves. When the old computer powered up, I called up the books list I painstakingly assembled years ago and printed it along with a shelf-by-shelf description. With the exception of borrowing the occasional tome to display, no one rearranged the library in all the time I worked at the museum so I was confident my list would still be accurate.
"Got it," I said, gathering the sheets the printer churned out.
"I took a look at Lance's office on the night of his murder," Detective Logan told me. "I'm not familiar with it so perhaps you can tell me if anything looks out of place?"
"I'll try but I didn't spend a lot of time in there either."
"You two weren't close?"
"You mean like friends? No, I can't say we were," I admitted. It didn't make sense to pretend Lance and I were anything other than colleagues that didn't like each other. Anyone could tell Detective Logan that.
Mayhem in May Page 6