"It was just a theory. Like you said, we can't argue with those facts so it doesn't appear Lance was as smart as you gave him credit for being."
"No, I guess not. Perhaps he just thought it was too easy since we rated very low in his estimation. I'll admit, it was easy for him. If I hadn't seen him take that book, we probably wouldn't have known about the missing items until the audit; and if Lance fired me after Artie was gone, he could have easily covered up the thefts. In fact, with both of us gone, it would be even easier to steal from the museum! He wouldn't even need a partner."
Detective Logan nodded thoughtfully. "One more thing: did you notice Lance had any extra cash lately? Did he make any big purchases? Something flashy?"
"No. He never mentioned anything either but he and I were hardly friends. I don't know that he would tell me about any purchases he made."
"Not even little things like clothes?"
"I know he liked high end fashion," I said, recalling Lance's wardrobe of expensive clothing. "But anyone could tell you that. You've seen his car too. Detective, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Go ahead."
"If Lance didn't have a partner, why would anyone want to kill him?"
"That's the question?"
"Well, why? Why kill him?"
"If I had the answer to that, I would be down at the station reminding his killer he or she was looking at a very long sentence."
I smiled. Of course that's what he’d be doing. "Why did you ask me about Lance's purchases?" I asked, suddenly curious.
"I'm stumped. It seems very likely he was a thief but I've searched Lance's car, his apartment and his office and I can't find any cash, anywhere. No bank deposits either. The money has to be somewhere, but where could it be?"
"Another account?" I wondered.
"Wherever it is, I'll find it." He lifted the thin file I gave him and the board members earlier. "Thanks for this. Your research will help the investigation but I really do have to caution you into looking any further. The murderer is still out there."
"I understand. The board has been very clear about not wanting to pursue any claims so it seems my research is over. Plus, even if I do find the stolen items, it's unlikely we'll be able to get them back. Not without filing a police report and an insurance claim, neither of which the board wants to do. I can see their point when I think about how much it would cost in legal fees if an innocent purchaser wanted to fight our claims."
"If they change their mind, give me a call. I'll have one of my officers take a report."
"I will. What about your case? Have there been any other leads?"
"So far, all leads come back here." Detective Logan glanced over his shoulder but I wasn't sure what he was looking for. "I should get going. I need to review my notes. Be careful, okay, Tess? If you feel anything is off, give me a call."
I frowned, unsure of what he meant. "Like what?"
"I don't know yet. Just call me if something doesn't feel right." He held up the file. "You've got good instincts but you should focus on your job, not mine. Leave the apprehension of the killer to me." Detective Logan fixed me with a look, and when I nodded, he did too. He left without a backwards glance, leaving me alone in the exhibition room.
As I plunked on the couch, his words swam in my mind: all leads come back here. That could only mean one thing. He was sure the killer was one of us. If that were correct, it meant one other thing: the moment Lance's partner was identified, the killer would be too. I was on the right track and despite Detective Logan's warning, I had to keep searching for the truth. Plus, he was wrong; finding out what happened was my job. It was the only thing I could do in my restitution to the museum for allowing the thefts to happen.
Chapter Seventeen
Detective Logan's insistence that every lead returned here gave me one big clue: the killer was amongst us. Knowing that, I could narrow my suspect list considerably. Unfortunately, the list was still very large. I could discount myself, but what about Artie and Karen? What about all the board members? Detective Logan was keen to interview them all again. Then there were the volunteers. Plus, all the guests for the party. I sighed. Perhaps Detective Logan hadn't given me such a great a hint after all. The list of suspects still ran into three figures!
A knock on my open door made me look up and I smiled when I saw Ethan in the doorway.
"You look deep in thought. Am I disturbing you?" he asked, stepping in.
"No, not at all." I dropped my pen on the list I started and swiftly abandoned. "How can I help?"
"I have something to show you." He held up the cardboard packing roll he carried.
"Is it the plans? How exciting! Should I call Artie?"
"I thought I'd show you first and you could suggest any tweaks."
"Spread it out here." I pointed to the part of my large desk not covered in paperwork and books. Ethan tugged off the tube's cap and tapped the rolled paper into his palm. He spread it out and reached for books to anchor the edges. Together, we looked down at the plans. The architectural drawings were all as I expected. Lines and measurements but he added small boxes with sketches of how the plans would work in 3D.
"These are great," I said. "Wow! There's so much space. I thought it might be a little cramped in some areas but it really isn't."
"Some of the walls aren't load bearing so they can be removed. I checked the ceiling and it's false, probably a seventies addition, so we can raise that too, which will instantly increase the space. Do you like it?"
"Like it? I love it. Ethan, you've done a great job and I love these little boxes to help me visualize how the space will look." I glanced up, noting how close he was. When he turned his head, his lips were only inches from mine. The kiss we shared flashed into my head and I had to look away as my brain relived the memory.
"I can make them bigger. Not everyone's mind works the same way. What I mean is, I can see the space in my head but I realize not everyone else can."
My gaze flitted back to the abandoned list. Did I miss something on that list? Was there something Detective Logan realized with his expert knowledge of crimes that I missed?
"Hey, where did you go?" asked Ethan.
I blinked and straightened, realizing he was looking at me curiously. "Sorry!"
"You disappeared for a moment. Your eyes glazed over."
"It's been a long day," I told him, "but the good news is the museum will be open again very soon."
"That's great news! Has an arrest been made? I saw Detective Logan heading in here earlier with a lot of people. I thought, maybe, he was doing one of those things detectives do in novels. You know, where he gathers everyone together and tells them how the killer did it and why and then the killer reveals him or herself and tries to make a dramatic escape."
"You've been reading too many novels," I laughed. "There was a board meeting; then Detective Logan asked to interview everyone on the board again in light of the information I gave them about Lance's thefts."
"Did one of them 'fess up?"
I laughed again. "Not so far as I know, but I've been sitting here thinking about it and I sense I'm missing something. I've been confused about whether Lance had an accomplice but I can't think of a connection between anyone here and him, other than his uncle, Declan. The board seemed to genuinely like Lance but I suppose he would have sucked up to them. They were skeptical that I could prove he was behind the thefts."
Ethan pulled up a chair and sat. "What do you think you're missing?"
"Like I said, there's nothing obvious to connect Lance to anyone. Maybe if I could access his email or his cell phone, I could find evidence of him communicating with someone?"
"Are you a secret hacker?"
I held back a smile. "No."
"Even if you could read his correspondence, Lance might have covered his tracks to hide any evidence. Plus, wouldn't Detective Logan have access and arrested someone by now if that were the case?"
That was ego-deflating. "I guess,
" I admitted. "I suppose Lance could have communicated in person with his secret partner. That way, there would be no tracks to cover and no one would think anything of him talking to someone connected to the museum. As the communications manager, it was his job to talk!"
"Does he have a diary?"
"Like a Dear Diary?" I asked. I pretended to write with an invisible pen on invisible paper. "Dear Diary, I stole something today. Love Lance, aged thirty-four and three quarters."
Ethan chuckled. "I meant a work diary. Somewhere he might record his meetings and appointments. Perhaps there's a pattern?"
I frowned. "I think he liked to use the calendar connected to his email and he printed it out week by week. I saw them on his desk occasionally."
"Could they still be there?"
"Let's go see."
On the first search of Lance's office, we looked for something out of place. The second time, I simply searched for his keys, then returned them. Now I knew we were looking for something far more difficult to find; something so integral to his office that it wouldn't seem out of place. Perhaps a note to call someone or a check stub or a notice of a bank transfer although that didn't seem likely after what Detective Logan told me. Maybe even a meeting in Lance's diary that seemed out of Lance's area of operation would provide the clue we needed. Any one of those things, or something else, might be the crucial lead I needed to make a connection between Lance and his secret partner.
"Let's start at his desk," I said, crossing the small room, rounding the desk and staring down. The desk didn't have much on it.
"Should we close the door?" asked Ethan.
"No. Anyone would expect me to grab something from Lance's office if I needed to. Closing the door would just be suspicious to anyone passing by. Plus, besides us, there's only Artie and Karen here. We're not exactly teeming with personnel."
"Okay. Then the desk..."
I shuffled the small stack of papers and smiled at my good fortune. "I found Lance's work calendar for this month," I said, taking the most recent entry and holding it up as I skimmed it. "Phone calls, lunches, meetings, the party... it all looks normal."
"It's supposed to," Ethan reminded me as he looked around.
I ran my eyes over the other pages. One thing stood out to me. "Nowhere on this diary does he mention meeting with the realtor. No phone calls marked with his initials, no meeting scheduled. There are a couple of times that he blocked out with a scribble."
"Realtor?" asked Ethan.
"Of course! You don't know!" I stopped scanning the diary entries and quickly filled Ethan in on the surprising conversation I had with Tony Mausman.
"That's crazy," said Ethan when I finished. "Could he have met with him during one of those times he blocked off without a note?"
"Maybe."
"It's definitely enough time to go meet with someone and come back without appearing suspicious."
"That occurred to me too." I put the printouts back where I found them and started opening Lance's desk drawers. Spare stationery, some lunch receipts, a box of business cards, headphones, keys, and some coins. The next drawer had a stack of files related to fundraising. Lance kept a record of whom he tapped for money and there were a few clippings from the local newspapers about events we held and reviews of a recent exhibition. Included with those was an article about a gathering of some town groups, plus, a longer article about a local author and how she used the museum for research for her book. It was good press but Lance wasn’t significant in garnering it; I liaised with the author and I curated the exhibitions. A file tossed in the drawer held a hard copy of Lance's presentation for the board. I leafed through it, unsurprised to see how many of my ideas he included, few of which he embellished with his own perceptions. It was like he hardly bothered to make a real effort, so sure he would get Artie's job.
"Tess?"
I looked up. "Yes?"
"Is this Lance's bag?" Ethan pointed to a leather satchel tucked behind the door.
"Yes, it is," I said. I pushed the drawers closed and rounded the desk, taking it as Ethan handed it to me. Perching it on the desk, I unsnapped the clasp and peered inside. An empty water bottle, another set of headphones, a magazine, a palm-sized notepad, a small pack of tissues, some pens. I pulled out the notepad since nothing else was interesting and opened it to the first page. "This doesn't make any sense," I said, frowning as I stared at the letters on the page. None of them formed any legible language I could think of.
"Can I see?"
I held the notepad for Ethan. He turned the page, then the next and the next. "It's all the same. None of it makes any sense. Except for the occasional time here. See the 2--" he pointed to the number and flicked three pages ahead "--and here too: 4.30. I suppose they might not be times but..."
"Let's assume they are. Is this some kind of code? Times and places for meeting someone. Why would he need to write it in code unless...?"
"He didn't want anyone to know who he was meeting or why," we both said in perfect synchronization.
"It's a ledger," I added, excited now. "It has to be. Lance must have wanted to keep a record of his sales. See how some of the pages have ticks in the top right corner. Perhaps that means they were sold?"
"Or maybe the tick means that he stole the item? Or maybe there was a potential buyer for it?" added Ethan, both of us talking animatedly.
"We'll only know if we can decipher the code and I don't know how to begin to do that!" I glanced at my watch. My girls were due home from their after-school activities soon and I couldn't sit in the office all night staring at the mishmash of letters. "That's if it even is a code. Maybe it's a creepy list of dates, or maybe he was taking job interviews."
"Was he?"
"I don't think so but my point is this notepad could be anything. We shouldn't get too excited about it. We should keep looking for something else that suggests he might have had regular meetings with someone." Even as I said it, I was sure the notepad was the key. If I could just decipher it, I would know for sure. Lance was smart but he wasn't any genius. The key to the code had to be something easy, something he would think was smart but really wasn't. I couldn't imagine Lance using anything too clever; even if he thought it was since he believed he was smarter than everyone else. If Lance was overflowing with one thing, it was definitely arrogance.
Holding onto the notepad, I made sure to check every last pocket of Lance's bag but there was nothing more to find. I checked the bulletin board and the desk but there were no notes. After ten minutes of searching, I had to concede defeat.
"I need to go home," I said to Ethan after a glance at my watch told me I was running late.
"How about an early dinner?" he suggested.
"I want to but I have another engagement," I said and his face fell a little. Realizing how rusty I was at being asked out, and how much I did want to go out with Ethan again, I added quickly, "Can I get a raincheck? Maybe this weekend?"
Ethan brightened again. "I can work with that. Let me grab my plans and I'll walk you out."
While Ethan rolled up the plans, I grabbed my purse and the light jacket I wore that morning. Karen waved as we left and together, we stepped out of the museum and onto the sidewalk.
"Mom!"
I turned, waving when I saw Leah and Brooke hurrying towards us. They skidded to a stop and hugged me. "We thought we'd walk home with you," explained Leah. She snuck a glance at Ethan. "We didn't know you'd have company. Hi, I'm Leah." She stuck out her hand and after a moment, Ethan shook it. "This is my sister, Brooke."
"Hi. I’m Ethan," said Ethan. He recovered quickly to shake Brooke's proffered hand too but not before I noticed how surprised he seemed. Didn't he know I had two kids?
Leah and Brooke hooked arms and moved around us. "Let's go," called Leah as she and Brooke continued along the sidewalk.
"I think I've been called," I said, glancing between my whispering daughters and Ethan.
"I didn't realize you had children," said Ethan,
looking after them.
I shrugged, unsure of how to reply to Ethan's comment. To fill the awkward silence, I said quickly, "I do. I have two daughters and I’m divorced. I’m a single mom. Obviously."
"So when you mentioned the girls would love a trip to Hawaii… ahh! " Ethan nodded. I studied him for any sign of terror and saw none.
"C'mon, Mom," called Brooke, over her shoulder. Leah said something to her and she giggled before she called, "Is Ethan staying for dinner?"
"Am I?" asked Ethan, his attention back on me. The same hopeful expression appeared in his eyes. So he wasn’t scared off? That was a welcome surprise.
"Uh... yes, okay. Sure," I said, stumbling over my words. Now who was surprised?
"Okay then," said Ethan. "We better catch up before they leave us behind." He offered me his arm and I hooked mine through it before we took off after the girls, albeit at a slower pace. After a couple of minutes, he began to ask me questions about the girls and my life as a parent and I talked about them, easing into the conversation like we were old friends. By the time we got to my house, the girls had slowed down and were asking Ethan questions too. Once we got inside, they ran off to their rooms, leaving us alone.
"They are great kids," said Ethan, following me into the kitchen.
"Did you ever want your own?" I asked.
"Yes. I thought I was going to have them once too but it didn't work out. Then suddenly, I was forty and on my own, wondering how that happened."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you."
"Yet," he added. "Life isn't over for me yet. It'll happen one day, I hope."
Leah's voice drifted down the stairs. "We're not hungry, Mom. Please don't hurry with dinner."
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