Mayhem in May

by Camilla Chafer

  "That's assuming they don't know it's stolen. What if they do know?"

  "That means they're in on it. Could Lance have been stealing on order?"

  "I suppose the dealer would know what their regular clients' interests are or if they were looking for something specific. It would make sense for them to put out feelers to the sellers. Although, if that's the case, why not just arrange a private sale like the other books rather than involving an auction?"

  "It could be both," decided Ethan. “Assuming all these books do belong to the museum, there are still three books unaccounted for.”

  "I should get back to the office and read Sara's email. If there's enough evidence to confirm the auction lots really are our books, I'll take it to Artie and the board for them to make a decision."

  Ethan checked his watch. "I'm guessing this was your lunch hour?"

  "Yes, and I still haven't eaten." My stomach gave an ominous rumble and I laughed, patting it. "I might have just enough time to grab a sandwich on my way back. Thanks for not calling the police on me," I added as I got up, leaving my tea glass on the coffee table.

  "Next time, invite me along," joked Ethan. At least, I hoped he wasn’t serious. I didn't plan on breaking into anymore houses ever again! I was sure my luck extended this one time only.

  Ethan walked me out and after asking me to tell him what happened after I informed the board, I left. I walked quickly back to Main Street, eager to see Sara's email waiting for me, but hunger pangs insisted I detour past the Corner Coffee Cafe to pick up a roast beef and pickle sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. Then I thought better of my single order and asked for an extra cookie. Karen deserved a treat and if I had to spend the afternoon hunting stolen property online, I needed to be sufficiently fueled. While I waited for my order, a couple of people asked when the museum was due to open again but all I could tell them was to watch for the signs before hurrying away when they started talking about the murder. Unfortunately, I didn't have any answers to their mawkish questions.

  From Main Street, it was quicker to enter the museum via the front doors but I had to knock for Karen to let me in. She did so with a quizzical look. "When did you sneak out?" she asked. She pushed the door open and I stepped in, flipping the lock behind me.

  I held up the paper bag. "I brought cookies."

  "Forget I asked. I’ll make coffee," she said, smiling now. "I'll bring one up to your office. I printed out all the audit files too so you just have to say when and we can get started."

  "I need to do some research but how about later this afternoon? Brooke and Leah offered to help too."

  "You have good girls. I just love that they want to hang out with their mom at a museum in their free time. I wish mine were like that but it's all sports for them. I just don't know where they get it from. It sure isn't from me or their father."

  "As the kids say, I am 'hashtag so blessed'." I winked and Karen laughed.

  I jogged up the stairs and first went into Lance's office to drop the keys into his drawer where I found them. Then I hurried across the hall to my office and flopped into my chair, relieved that my brief career of crime was over. My heart definitely couldn't take the kind of pounding I experienced earlier. I could only imagine how Lance felt when he committed the thefts, if anything at all. I wondered how long he planned to steal things from the museum, and if he would have continued until he picked it clean of any item of value. I couldn't think about the "what ifs" now. I had to focus on finding out what happened.

  Sara's email was at the top of my inbox. While I ate my sandwich, I clicked on it and opened all the links she included. Like she explained over the phone, the web links took me to an auction website. I cross referenced the information on the two sold books and the one for sale with the information I had on file and had to agree with her. These three books definitely looked like they belonged to the museum. I fired off a thank you email and sat back, wondering what to do next.

  "Coffee!" trilled Karen as she entered, bearing two steaming mugs.

  "You get a cookie," I told her, handing over the bag. She plucked a cookie out and handed the bag back to me.

  "The quiet is so strange," said Karen. She sat in the chair on the other side of the desk and nibbled the cookie. "I think I've exhausted all the menial tasks available. I'm not good with so much solitude. I'm even looking forward to the audit, just for something to do!"

  "First time for everything!" I laughed since the annual audit was something no one looked forward to.

  "So long as this is the only murder we ever have," she murmured. "I must admit, I don't feel safe being downstairs in the lobby all by myself. I never felt like that before! The idea that someone could be creeping around, ready to kill me too, keeps popping into my head. Every creak makes me jump and boy, does this museum creak a lot."

  "Why would anyone want to kill you?" I asked.

  "Someone killed Lance on a night crowded with people. It could be a crazed killer, picking us off one by one!"

  "If that were the case, they're being a little slow about it," I pointed out. I tried, and failed, to conceal the shiver that thought gave me.

  Karen giggled. "I guess. All the same, I keep looking over my shoulder. I'm suddenly hearing things I never heard before; the old water pipes rattling, the stairs squeaking. Even the telephone suddenly sounds shriller."

  "Why don't you take the afternoon off?" I suggested. "Like you said, there's nothing for you to do. Take a couple of hours and come back when the girls and I are here and we'll do the audit together. Strength in numbers."

  "Normally, I'd protest, but I appreciate it. I might take a walk or maybe distribute some of those postcards we had printed for the exhibition around town. Then I'll feel like I'm doing something beneficial. Although, maybe I shouldn’t leave you?"

  "That sounds like a great idea," I encouraged. "Artie and I will be fine here. Come find me when you're back."

  I waved to Karen as she left, visibly happier now, and returned my attention to the computer screen. For a few minutes, I browsed the auction website, looking at the items listed for the next sale. They specialized in books, ephemera, and other items of cultural interest dating back some two hundred years. There were several books I would have liked to take a look at, plus some lovely maps and pamphlets that inspired me with ideas for new exhibitions. The panel at the bottom of the page held a link to the contacts page. I clicked on it to a succinct page offering directions to the auction house along with email addresses and a phone number.

  The other auction house failed to produce any useful information but what if I took a different tactic this time? If I could break into Lance's house, perhaps I could lie convincingly too? It was something I always discouraged my daughters from ever doing, but this was a special case. I needed to find the truth about Lance's activities. I was sure whatever he was up to had to be linked to his murder.

  Picking up my desk phone, I dialed the number. When a young woman answered, I said, "My boss asked me to check if there's any interest in two items we have listed with you," I said, my heart pounding audibly again.

  "I can find out. What's your boss's name?" she asked.

  "Lance Fleming." I held my breath, waiting for her to call me out on the lie.

  "Here it is," she said, the sound of keys tapping barely audible. "Yes, there has been some interest. Not quite as much as we hoped for but I'm sure that will change on auction day."

  "Oh, gee, I've temporarily misplaced my list of what we have for sale with you. Could you please read the items?" I asked, grabbing a sheaf of papers and flapping them loudly like I was looking for something.

  "There are two books, a Lewis Carroll and a Dickens. There's also the trinket box that Mr. Fleming sent last week. We haven't listed it yet as there is significant interest from a private collector. I see from the notes on screen that my boss tried to call Mr. Fleming about arranging a sale. Shall we proceed?"

  I tapped my finger against my list; both the Carroll and
Dickens were on there. I shook my head in annoyance at Lance’s deceit. "No. Mr. Fleming would like all the items withdrawn immediately from sale."

  "Oh! That is rather unexpected. May I ask the reason why?" she inquired.

  "He changed his mind. We'd actually like to arrange for all the items to be returned."

  "All of them?"

  "That’s correct. All of them," I repeated.

  "I'll have to speak to my boss. It might be too late since we've listed the lots already. Let me transfer you."

  "No--" I started but the hold music already began to play. I winced. So far, I managed to keep up the lie, but I wasn't sure I could think fast enough to prolong it. If they saw through me, I might lose the books forever. And what was that about a trinket box?

  "This is Audrey Hemsley," came another woman's voice, much older this time. "Who's this?"

  "Lance Fleming's secretary, ma'am," I lied.

  "My assistant tells me you want to withdraw the items from sale. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, it is. Mr. Fleming apologizes for the inconvenience but we need the items returned at once. We'll be happy to cover any costs," I said swiftly.

  "You'll have to excuse me if I'm surprised. Mr. Fleming is always so keen to sell with us."

  "And he will be happy to continue to do so, unfortunately, we do need the items returned as soon as possible. We have been notified of an issue with their provenance and we prefer not to sell the items until we've gotten to the bottom of the matter."

  Audrey hesitated, then asked cautiously, "Are they stolen?"

  "Possibly."

  "We'll remove them from public sale at once. As soon as they're cleared with any concerned parties, we hope you'll return them to us to retail. I hoped to arrange a private sale for the trinket box and there have been multiple interested parties in the books."

  "We appreciate that opportunity, thank you."

  "Of course, if they happened to have already sold in a private sale, would that be an issue?"

  I hesitated, uncertain of what she meant. "I'm not sure I follow."

  "It's entirely possible that a private collector, let’s say, outside the United States, might have bought the items for a good cash price, rendering the items untraceable."

  I had to think fast. She seemed to be suggesting that Lance's items could still be sold, but off the books. I thought she’d be appalled at the possibility of selling stolen merchandise but it seemed like she didn't care at all, only that she didn't get caught and still turned a profit.

  "Of course, our sales fee is usually a little higher in these more delicate cases but that's never been an issue for Mr. Fleming," she continued.

  "Of course," I agreed, fighting to keep hold of my temper. "However, he has given me strict instructions to ensure these items are returned to us on this occasion. I really must insist."

  "They will be mailed today. I hope Mr. Fleming won't make a habit of this. It's not good business."

  "I'll pass that along," I said, slightly intimidated and desperate to get off the phone before she called my bluff.

  "I didn't get your name?"

  "Tess," I said. "You can address the parcel to my attention at Mr. Fleming's return address."

  "I will have my assistant take care of it forthwith," she said and hung up.

  I dropped the phone into the cradle and smiled. The museum might yet get some of its stolen property back!

  "Take that, Lance," I said, fist-pumping the air at my small victory.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Forget what I said yesterday," remarked Karen. "I hate auditing the museum. I always forget how much stuff we have!"

  "I am so glad Leah and Brooke helped yesterday. I suppose I should thank Detective Logan for checking the book inventory with me too."

  "I bet he never thought his law enforcement career would involve counting books."

  "I never thought my museum career would involve murder."

  Karen shook her head. "So many people asked me about Lance yesterday when I handed out pamphlets. I hardly knew what to say."

  "Tell them to ask Detective Logan," I suggested.

  "I don't think they need to. When I said I didn't know much, a dozen people told me everything they knew. The gossip mill is working just fine in Calendar."

  I laughed. When I first moved to Calendar, I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to everyone knowing everything about everyone else but the charm of the small-town life soon won me over. While there might be a lot of gossip, there is a huge amount of camaraderie too. When I divorced, I received help for childcare and some of my new friends and neighbors cooked enough food to fill the freezer. The wider community always came together to support those in need too. Plus, the town was well renowned for its love of celebrating. Not a month went by when there wasn't a party or parade.

  "Maybe someone will tell us what's going on. I haven't heard a word from Detective Logan although that's a relief. I'm still scared he'll arrest me," I confessed.

  "Ridiculous," scoffed Karen. She closed the door of the glass cabinet. "We've finished this case, checked and double-checked. Is that the whole room?"

  "Yes," I said, referring to my list. "Even better, nothing is missing in here!" I didn’t add how disappointed I was that we had found three missing items elsewhere. It was too awful to think about it.

  "We might not finish the audit by the time the board gets here. Do you think it will matter?"

  "No, I don't think so." I spent some time the previous evening preparing my file to give to the board along with the evidence I amassed. The file wasn't huge but it contained last year's audit and this year's confirmations of the library inventory; plus, the printouts of the sales that Sara Cutler researched and the one I found. Finally, I added a detailed statement about yesterday's conversation with the auction house. I omitted the bit about me pretending to be Lance's secretary. They didn't have to know how the conversation revealed that Lance was the true seller, only that I found out and the stolen items were on their way back. I hoped the hard evidence would be enough for the board to launch a more thorough investigation, although I wasn't sure what else they hoped to find. It seemed like I already had the damning evidence.

  "All the second-floor rooms are done. Should we wait for Detective Logan to let us open the exhibition room before we go ahead and audit the whole floor? Or just do the rooms we can access? I'm a little confused as to whether we're allowed to go in there or not. I have to admit, I'm not sure I want to."

  "Let's take a coffee break first. We deserve one," I told her. We took the grand staircase down and as we walked into the lobby, Karen muttered with a laugh, "We deserve a wine break." I hoped her easy demeanor meant she felt better being at the museum now. I was sure it would take us both some time; I still felt jittery when I thought I was alone in the offices. Knowing that the board members would arrive soon was small comfort. Yes, the place would soon be occupied although the occupants wouldn't be happy once Artie and I informed them of what we knew.

  I started to answer that we should do what we could after we relaxed for a few minutes with a coffee, when we both looked up at the sound of knocking at the door. It repeated, this time more urgently. "Could it be the mailman?" she asked. "Maybe it's the stolen books you had returned? Could they be here already? I'll go ahead." She hurried off before I could tell her it was probably one of the "concerned" townsfolk wondering if they could "take a peek."

  When I crossed the lobby, a short, round, man in a checkered suit waited in the doorway, a battered briefcase in his hand. I recognized him but I couldn't match a name to his face.

  "I have an appointment with Lance Fleming," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. "How come the museum is closed up? I didn't realize there was a midweek closing or I would have arranged to meet Mr. Fleming another day."

  "It's just temporary," I told him. It was strange that he didn't seem to know what happened. Had he been living under a rock these past few days? "Lance isn't available. Was he expect
ing you? Perhaps I can help. I'm Tess Hernandez."

  "Are you his secretary?" the short man demanded.

  "Umm... no. I'm the museum's Deputy Manager."

  "If you can direct me to Lance's office, I'd appreciate it."

  "I can't. Like I said..."

  "Oh, sure. He's unavailable. When is he due back? I tried calling him but it went directly to voicemail."

  "He won't be back. There's been an accident." I glanced at Karen and she frowned and shook her head, just as perplexed as I. Was this the only person in Calendar who didn't know what happened?

  "Is he in the hospital? I can go there. It's very important he reviews this paperwork. I have several buyers that might be interested."

  "For Lance's apartment?" I asked, even more confused now. "I thought it was rented?"

  "No, for the derelict wing!"

  I laughed. Of course, he was joking. "Oh, that's not for sale," I told him.

  "You're Tony Mausman, the realtor whose face is on all the park benches!" gasped Karen. "I knew I recognized you. You must too, Tess. He has that catchy slogan: Tony Mausman the House Man!"

  An image of the man's smiling face on the bus bench down the street popped into my head. He had an office in Hallowell and I'd seen several of his sales boards outside homes and the occasional business premises in town. He was known for being a fair man who charmed his way through sales and had a good eye for profit. Both buyers and sellers trusted him.

  "Where is Lance?" he pressed. "This is really important."

  "Mr. Mausman, I'm sorry to tell you that Lance passed away just a few days ago."

  "What? He's a young man. What was it? Heart attack? Car accident?" he asked, his surprise masked by the rapid questions.

  "Lance was murdered," Karen mumbled.

  "What?! That's just terrible. Terrible! Oh, that poor man. What is this town coming to?" Mr. Mausman shook his head, a sad look passing across his face. When he glanced up again, he was still shaking his head. "You all must be very sad to lose that young man."

  "So sad," said Karen flatly.

  "I guess I should ask you as Lance's second-in-command to look over the paperwork before we proceed. I'm sure you want to get on with it despite this terrible tragedy."