"Tess is not--" started Karen.
I stopped her with a hand on her arm. I had the awful, sick feeling Mr. Mausman wasn't joking about what he thought was the sale of the museum wing. "I'll take a look at the paperwork now," I said, holding out my hand. Mr. Mausman rummaged in his briefcase, producing a thin sheaf of papers, which he handed to me. I glanced through them quickly, scanning the pertinent parts. "This really is for the sale of the new wing," I said aloud, "When was this set up?"
"Lance approached me two weeks ago. I didn't even know the wing was for sale and I always have my feelers out for information like that," explained Mr. Mausman, relaxing now that we were talking business. "Lance told me he'd taken over as manager and a decision was made to sell the derelict outbuilding. Like I told him, there is so much potential ready to be tapped with that building and if the museum didn't want it, I would find someone who would. A cafe perhaps, or an elegant restaurant. Of course it would have to be fully refurbished, which is costly, but I can see one of our big chain restaurants snapping up a lease. There's even potential for some bijoux apartments for vacationers seeking upscale luxury right in the middle of town. Or we could go the shop route. There's ample space for a couple of nice clothing boutiques or maybe even a grocery store for the discerning shopper."
I hated to break it to the realtor but I couldn't string him along. "I'm afraid none of that will happen. Lance misled you. The property isn't for sale."
"But we had a deal!"
"In writing?" I asked, hoping that wasn't the case.
"Well, no, but we spoke at length and he showed me around. We talked about its sale and leasing and I don't mind telling you there was a fat fee in it for Lance too."
"Did you pay him already?"
Mr. Mausman shook his head and jabbed a finger on the paperwork. "Not until the paperwork is signed. It won't be a problem to send a little kickback your way," he added, peering at me hopefully.
"Like I said, Lance misled you. The wing isn't for sale. It never has been. The museum is converting it into a new wing."
He wrinkled his nose suspiciously. "Are you sure?"
"Completely sure. We have an architect working on the plans as we speak. The wing has never been for sale and even if it were, I promise you, Lance wouldn't have been responsible for transacting any of it."
"I don't understand."
"Are you sure it was Lance Fleming you spoke with?" asked Karen.
"Around six feet tall, hair covered in gel, drives one of those fancy convertibles," said Mr. Mausman, reaching far above him and topping the height with the palm of his hand. Almost. He was a little too short to reach.
"That does sound like him," said Karen. She glanced at me and pulled a face.
"I'm so sorry for your wasted journey," I told him.
"I'd like to speak to whomever is in charge," persisted Mr. Mausman.
"That would be me. Like I said, I'm very sorry. I'm not sure what Lance told you but I can swear to you, there is no sale here."
"But he seemed so certain."
"I'm sure he did," I said grimly. "But there won't be any sale today or any other day. You should be glad you didn't pay any money." I began to usher him to the door. There was no point in the conversation going around in circles. Mr. Mausman came very close to being duped and the sooner he realized that, the better for all of us. I was sure it wouldn't be a pleasant moment for him when the realization finally hit. His business thrived on trust and transparency and Lance nearly managed to swindle him out of thousands of dollars, not to mention the furore that would occur when someone discovered the deal was a bad one.
"I'm going to write to the board. There has to be one. I was promised a sale," said Mr. Mausman as Karen opened the door and I politely guided him out.
"That sounds like an excellent idea," I told him. "You'll find all the details on our website." Then I shut the door, locked it, and turned to Karen. "Is he gone?" I asked, my back to the door.
She leaned to one side and looked around me. "He's scratching his head. No, he's moving. He's walking away. Tess, what was all that about?"
"I think we just stumbled onto another one of Lance's schemes. I'm surprised he didn't try to sell the whole museum! What was he thinking? He couldn't possibly have gotten away with it!"
"Maybe he would have once Artie retired and you were out of the way!"
Rage coursed through me. I fully believed Lance was capable exactly of that. If he talked his way into the promotion by lying, perhaps he could talk the board into selling the derelict wing and pocketing some of the proceeds. Maybe he would even convince the board the museum wasn't worth it. All he had to do to make its sale appealing would be to bomb the ticket sales and ensure the museum became a loss-making attraction that could no longer fund itself. "I know we shouldn't speak ill of the dead but... but... that scheming, little rat!" I spat. In my hand, I crunched the papers Mr. Mausman handed me. Then realizing what I had, I smoothed the crumpled corner. In a calmer voice I added, "I'm going to show this to the board so they realize just who they were dealing with!"
"His family will be so ashamed of him," said Karen.
I winced. "And I’ll be the one to tell his uncle what he was up to. I just hope it's not a case of kill the messenger when I present my evidence." I checked my watch. I didn't have a lot of time left. The board would be arriving within the next half hour and I had to make sure I briefed Artie of the new developments. "Can you call me when the board arrives and show them all into the meeting room?" I asked. "We can complete the rest of the audit tomorrow."
Karen gave me a forced smile and jazz hands. "I can hardly wait!"
I headed upstairs, waving to Artie through his open door and entering my office, glad to drop into my chair for a moment after the headache discussion with Tony Mausman the House Man. On top of that, a couple of hours of stretching, kneeling, and box checking left my muscles sore and aching. Unfortunately, there was no better way of cataloging every item in the museum than to go around every room, visually verifying that everything was in place, and in the correct display cabinet. I shared Karen's relief that, so far, we hadn't found anything else missing, although there were a few rooms left to inspect. Given that the auction house confirmed Lance listed a trinket box with them, I felt sure we would find one missing from our collection. That reminded me, had Detective Logan found the missing dagger yet?
I called him, surprised when I got through.
"How can I help?" he asked, sounding like he'd rather do anything but.
"It's more like how I can help you," I told him, hoping that if I gave him something, he might reciprocate with some information of his own. "I've tracked down some of the missing books to an auction house and confirmed that Lance was the seller. Would you like me to send the information to you?"
"Send me whatever you have and then leave it to me."
"Of course," I agreed readily. I didn't want him to think I'd been butting into his investigation. "Something strange happened today. Do you know Tony Mausman?"
"The House Man? Sure. Who doesn't?"
"He just came by the museum to get Lance to sign the paperwork for selling our derelict outbuilding."
"The one you're renovating?"
"The very same. Mr. Mausman seemed to think he had a deal with Lance. There was a lot of money involved. Could that be a motive?"
"You're handing me a suspect?"
When he put it like that... "I guess so," I said, feeling unsure about the idea of Tony Mausman as a murderer.
"Did any money exchange hands?"
"No. Mr. Mausman was lucky."
"I'll look into it. Thank you for the tip. Anything else?"
"I'm conducting the audit and I remembered you said the dagger was missing. Have you found it yet?"
"No. I have a feeling we won't. Or, at least, not until we're ready to make an arrest."
A burst of excitement sent my heart rate up. "You're going to arrest someone?"
"I didn't say that."
"But..."
"I have an appointment. Thanks for your help." Detective Logan put the phone down before I could splutter another question.
When my desk phone rang seconds later, I grabbed it. "They're here," said Karen.
I thanked her and grabbed my file, heading to Artie's office. "The board are here," I told him.
"This is going to be pleasant," said Artie with a roll of his eyes.
"It only gets worse. We had a realtor come by just fifteen minutes ago, saying Lance was ready to sign a deal to sell the new wing."
Artie's brows pinched together. "Wing of what?"
"The museum, Artie!"
"But it's not for sale!"
"I know that. You know that. The realtor was surprised to hear that. According to him, Lance was excited to go ahead and land a fat commission."
"I want to say you're joking but the look on your face tells me you're serious. You are, aren't you?"
I nodded. "'Fraid not."
"I hope you sent him packing."
"I did but not before I got a copy of his contract. Lance stood to make a lot of money if the sale went through."
"You better wait and tell me and the board at the same time or you'll be repeating this story in a minute." Artie eased out of his chair and waved me out the door. He followed me to the board room and we both walked through the open door, taking the chairs immediately in front of us, ready to shock them all.
Chapter Fifteen
Instead of the usual jovial atmosphere, the air was tense and the chatter sparse. It seemed no one wanted to be here.
"Let's get to it," said George Phelps as he called the meeting to order. "We've called this impromptu meeting to discuss the recent unfortunate events and what that means for the museum going forward. We took the liberty of inviting Detective Logan too. He should be here any minute," he added after a glance at his watch.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from exclaiming my surprise. The detective hadn't mentioned he was on his way here when he said he had an appointment. Did he intend to surprise me? Or did he expect I wouldn't be here?
"We remain closed until the police say we can reopen," said Artie. "Perhaps the detective will give us the go ahead when he gets here? We'll need to get the room cleaned professionally, of course, before we allow any visitors in, and I have a cleaning firm on standby. I think we should reasonably expect a fifty percent drop in visitor numbers and ticket sales for the next few months."
"That's a big drop," said Caroline. "George's quarterly forecast doesn't allow for such a large hit to the museum's finances."
"We really couldn't have foreseen this happening. We'll continue to promote the exhibition and perhaps we can prolong it by another few weeks in the hopes of local people changing their minds and new tourists arriving?" Artie glanced at me and I nodded vigorously.
"That's a great idea," I added. "The room isn't scheduled for a new exhibition yet so it won't affect anything else already advertised. We should consider extending the exhibition."
"Is everyone in agreement?" asked George, looking around at the nodding heads. "Good. Please go ahead with that, Artie, Tess. Like Caroline says, we’ll really hit our bottom line if the ticket sales collapse. We need to discuss a strategy for the worst-case scenario. It could very well impact the money set aside for the new wing but we'll have to take that up another time. Before the detective gets here, there's the matter of Lance's funeral. Declan tells us Lance's parents are flying in to take his body home. We've arranged to send flowers. Perhaps a representative of the museum should attend too?"
"I'm too old to fly," said Artie, which was total garbage because he had a big vacation including several flights planned for his retirement.
"I can't leave my daughters," I said, which was mostly true. Actually, I just didn't want to. "Perhaps someone from the board could represent all of us? Or Declan could take something commemorative to Lance's parents from us." I knew that I couldn't be the one to say nice things about him. For one, I didn't know anything nice about him, and two, I preferred not to lie. However, much as I disliked Lance, I didn't want his family to feel snubbed during their grief.
"That would be very kind," said Declan, Lance's uncle. He gave me a weak smile and I noted the gray rings under his eyes. Of course he hadn't been sleeping well but was it grief or guilt?
"We'll work that out between us," said George.
Karen stepped into the room. "Detective Logan is here," she said, waving in the detective. Instead of waiting uncertainly for an invitation to join us, he pulled out the chair next to mine and sat, resting his arms on the table. Karen gave me a small, tight smile and left quickly.
"Detective Logan, can you tell us where you are with the case?" asked George.
"We're following all the leads and working through the witness statements. As you can imagine, with so many people present that night, there's a lot of information to investigate as we build up a map of events."
"How do we know it wasn't some psycho who just wandered in?" asked Caroline.
"That seems highly unlikely, ma'am."
"But not impossible?" persisted Enid, who sat next to her.
"No, not impossible but extremely improbable. Most likely, Lance Fleming was killed by someone he knew. I can't tell you the details of an ongoing investigation but I can say there were no defensive wounds as we might expect to find if a stranger had attacked him."
"You're saying it's someone we know?" Declan gasped.
"That's a definite possibility," agreed Detective Logan.
"But why would anyone hurt him?" asked George. "None of us can work that out. He was a nice young man. Very committed to the museum."
"That's why you promoted him?" asked Detective Logan.
George nodded. "He gave a compelling interview about his vision for the museum using his background in marketing and fundraising to elevate the museum's status. His innovative strategy was integral to the museum's continued success."
Artie nudged me under the table. I stared ahead, too annoyed to say anything.
"After only working here a few months?" asked Detective Logan.
"You can't repress true talent," said George.
Next to Detective Logan, I bristled but I kept my mouth shut. Now wasn't the time to bring up personal feelings.
"So would all of you be surprised to hear that Lance was stealing from the museum?" asked Detective Logan.
"I... my gosh... yes! That's absurd!" spluttered George.
"Lance would never do such a thing!" said Caroline. "None of the employees would!"
"He's a good boy," added Declan, jumping to his feet. "You can't besmirch his name like that. That's grounds for a libel suit!"
"You can't libel the dead, sir," said Detective Logan calmly. "Please sit down, Mr. Sommersby."
"Especially if it's true," said Artie before I could jump in. "I've suspected Lance for a while and we now have concrete evidence that confirms he was stealing from the museum to line his own pockets. You all made a huge mistake by giving him a promotion and if it had gone ahead, he would have run this fine museum straight into the ground!"
"That's a lie!" shouted Declan. He leaned over the table, his mouth set into a nasty line as he stared at Artie.
"Everyone, quiet down!" shouted George over the sudden rise of appalled and annoyed voices. From what I could hear, the board members were shocked over the accusations against Lance, surprised, or disgusted that anyone employed at the museum would dare steal from it. Everyone on the board was united by their love of history and retelling stories of the past to the throngs of visitors. To hear that someone was actively working against everything they stood for was worse than horrifying. I knew how horrible it was for me the moment I realized Lance couldn't care less about the museum.
As the room calmed, I circulated my thin files, glad I made a couple of extra copies so I could give one to the detective too. Although we spoke, I didn't have time to send him the files so I knew most of the de
tails would come as a surprise to him. I was glad I informed him about Lance's secret deal with the realtor so he would be ready for the board's reaction.
"Inside you'll find evidence I gathered that confirms a small number of books are missing from the library along with their sales listings," I told them as they opened the files.
"We didn't authorize any sales!" said Caroline, frowning as she turned the pages.
"No, we didn't, and last year's audit accounted for them so we know the books could only have been taken during the past year."
"That doesn't mean Lance took them!" said Declan. He pushed the file away, refusing to open it.
"I agree so I looked into it a little deeper, made a few calls and learned that Lance was the seller for at least two of the missing books. I've managed to get those sales canceled and arranged for the books to be returned. We're currently conducting an earlier than planned audit of the museum to see if anything else is missing."
"We suspect there will be," added Artie, his voice stern. "I caught Lance red-handed."
"That can't be true!" muttered George.
“Someone was setting up my nephew,” said Declan, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It gets worse," I started as I opened my file. "I received further news this morning that Lance fraudulently attempted to sell the derelict wing of the museum that is scheduled for remodel. You will find a copy of the realtor's contract in the file I just gave you. It lists Lance as being in potential receipt of a large fee once the paperwork was signed."
"For the benefit of the board, how did you come by this information?" asked Detective Logan.
"Tony Mausman, the realtor, came to the museum looking for Lance. He hadn't been able to reach him so he stopped by here. He explained what his business was with Lance and was able to describe him too. I found it just as outrageous as all of you do now."
"This wasn't authorized," said George. He ran his finger down the page then turned it, reading quickly.
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