Mayhem in May

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Mayhem in May Page 17

by Camilla Chafer


  Chapter Nineteen

  "Tess?"

  "Hmm... arr... urrr..." Uttering incoherent noises from my mouth, my eyelids fluttered but everything remained black.

  "Tess? Can you hear me?" Gentle hands brushed my face and settled on my neck.

  "No!" I cried, batting away the hands before they strangled me. My eyes snapped open, flooding my retinas with light, and rapidly shut again with the blinding pain.

  "Tess, it's okay. It's me, Ethan. Detective Logan is here too. You're okay." Hands clasped my wrists, preventing me from thrashing, and I forced myself to focus on the voice. I knew that voice. Ethan wouldn’t hurt me. I stopped flailing and relaxed as I forced my eyes open, wincing. Everything was upside-down. My head rested against something soft. Not a pillow but... was it the rug? Why was I on the floor? Had I fainted?

  "What happened?" I mumbled, my tongue dry as powdered cement in my mouth.

  "Don't try to move." Detective Logan loomed over me before slipping out of view. Hands were on my head... no, something was pressing against my head.

  "Can you move your fingers and toes?" asked Ethan, still holding my hand.

  I wiggled all of them. "Yes," I said, wondering how Ethan simultaneously held my hands while pressing something against my head. Then my brain seemed to reboot and I realized that Detective Logan was holding something. As I tried to struggle upright, he pressed me down again.

  "Someone hit you on the back of the head," explained Ethan. "You should lie still a little longer. We found you on the floor. My God, I thought you were dead!"

  "You gave us quite a scare," said Detective Logan. The pressure on my head eased. "The bleeding has stopped. Can you sit up?"

  "Yes, I think so." As soon as I said it, strong hands helped me upright until I was sitting with my back to the desk, my legs stretched out. I was glad I wore jeans today, instead of a skirt. At least my dignity was still intact, even if my head wasn't! I laughed at the ridiculousness of that thought.

  "What's so funny?" asked Ethan. He glanced at the detective. "Do you think she's in shock?"

  "Nothing," I muttered. "No, I don't think I'm in shock but my head is pounding hard. What happened?"

  "You don't remember?" Detective Logan knelt in front of me, a wad of bloody tissue in his hand. He saw me looking at it and tossed it out of sight, then leaned in with a fresh stack to press against my head.

  "You said someone hit me?" I reached for my head and when I drew my fingers away, they were covered in sticky, red blood. My blood. "Someone did hit me!"

  "Did you see who it was?"

  I started to shake my head, instantly regretting it as stabbing pain sliced through. "No. I was getting ready to go home. I forgot my cell phone and turned back for it and... I don't remember anything after that."

  "What time was that?"

  "Five-thirty. I was going to call you and suggest we go to dinner," I said to Ethan. He squeezed my hand.

  "It's just past six now," said Detective Logan. "You weren't unconscious very long."

  "That's... great?" I stammered.

  "We should take you to the hospital and let them check you out."

  "I agree," said Ethan. "How does your head feel?"

  "Like someone hit me. I think I'm okay. It hurts a little bit. I don't understand. Why would anyone hit me?"

  "Perhaps someone was looking for something," said Detective Logan.

  "What makes you think that?"

  "You don't usually keep your office like this."

  At that, I looked around, forcing my chin up and focusing on whatever I could see. No, I did not keep my office like this. Papers were strewn everywhere. Books lay with their spines bent open, thoughtlessly discarded on the floor. The few items I kept on my desk had been swept onto the floor. My bookcases were rifled, files and books pulled out indiscriminately, and the trinkets dotted amongst them. With my head pounding, I craned it to the side. My desk chair lay overturned and the desk drawers were pulled open.

  "The ledger!" I gasped, tipping onto my knees. I reached for the desk, pulling myself up and half-walked, half-crawled around the corner of it. It wasn't in the drawer, then I remembered I put it in my purse. My purse wasn't on my desk, then I spotted it, tossed onto the floor, all the contents exposed. As I feared, the ledger was gone.

  "Lance's ledger?" asked Ethan.

  I nodded and instantly regretted it. "It isn't here," I said as I pointed to the upended bag. "I had it locked inside my desk all day and then I put it in my purse when I was getting ready to leave."

  "What are you two talking about?" asked Detective Logan. He had one hand supporting me in my half-stance as he set the desk chair upright and settled me in it. I leaned my head back against the headrest.

  "Ethan and I found a ledger in Lance's office and we think it has everything to do with the thefts Lance committed," I said before I launched into the explanation with Ethan chipping in. When I finished, I added, "I went to the police station to give it to you but you weren't there. I was going to stop by the police station on the way home just in case you were back."

  "I haven't been there all day. I got your message so I came here to find out what you wanted to give me. It was a good job I did, seeing how I found you." He waved his hand around my head.

  "When I didn't hear from you about tonight's plans, I tried calling you a couple times. You didn't answer so I decided to swing by on my way home. Detective Logan was already here so we walked up to your office and that's when we saw you," explained Ethan. "I thought we found a...a..." He trailed off, gulping.

  "You didn't see anyone?" asked Detective Logan.

  "No. I had my back to the door. I heard the door creaking."

  "The person didn't say anything to you?"

  I shook my head, then figured I better stick to verbal answers. Would the pounding ever subside? "No."

  "Was anyone else around in the minutes before you were hit?"

  "I don't think so. Artie left around five and no one else was up here, none that I know of."

  "What about Karen?"

  "I saw her earlier but she's been working in the museum since then. We reopened and it was surprisingly busy. She might have seen someone come up here, if you ask her, but I guess she's already gone home. She probably thought I did too."

  "I'll ask around. Tell me about this ledger. Did it confirm all the thefts? More than the ones we already knew about?" asked Detective Logan.

  I glanced at Ethan but he shook his head. He didn't know anymore than I did. "It's in code. We couldn't read it but it seems to fit and since someone took it... Lance's accomplice! It must be him! Who else could it be?"

  "This has to confirm Lance's partner is someone connected to the museum. How else would they get up here?" said Ethan. He took my hand and squeezed it gently, reassuring me. "Do you know how lucky you are?"

  "Ask me tomorrow," I said. "I don't feel lucky at the moment. Oh! I made copies like you suggested. Not the whole thing, but a few pages. Can you pass me my purse?"

  Detective Logan spun around and reached to the floor. "Here," he said, handing it to me.

  I opened it and pulled out the folded sheets resting at the bottom. I removed one of the copies and handed it to him. "These are from the ledger," I told him, relieved that my assailant hadn't completely emptied my purse. He or she had obviously seen Lance's coded notepad, grabbed it and split. At least, we still had some evidence. "The ledger must incriminate this person in some way. Why else would they attack me to steal it?" I asked.

  "Who knew you had it?" asked Detective Logan.

  "Ethan, and I told Artie and Karen earlier. They both took a look at it and Karen had an idea about ciphers."

  "No one else?"

  "No."

  "Could anyone have overheard you?" he continued.

  "We were in Artie's office with the door closed. I suppose it could have popped open. It’s needed fixing for months."

  "Hmmm." Detective Logan took a step back, then walked around the desk, t
apping the papers against his leg, his face deep in thought. "Mind if I hang onto these?"

  "Please do. I hope you can make some sense of them."

  "I know someone good with this kind of stuff. They'll crack it."

  "I think we should go to the hospital now and get you checked out," said Ethan. "Anything else can wait until morning."

  I touched my head again. Yes, it hurt but I wasn’t severely injured. I was sure all I'd get for the hospital bill were instructions to rest, take over-the-counter painkillers and call 911 if I felt unwell. "The girls! They're expecting me home and I haven't called them! I need to get home," I explained. I got to my feet and the wave of nausea made me realize I'd risen too fast. I sank down again, blinking as my head swam.

  "Easy," said Ethan, reaching for me. "Give me your cell phone and I'll call Leah and Brooke."

  "They'll only worry if they hear your voice on my cell phone. I'll call them in a few minutes. Detective?"

  "Yes?" Detective Logan looked up from the prints he studied.

  "Have you made any headway in the case?"

  "Some," he said.

  I waited for him to elaborate on that and when he didn't, I threw my hands up. "Can you tell us anything?"

  "Just that my officers and I followed up the research you did and confirmed everything you said was correct. Some of the stolen items were sent out of state, and therefore beyond my jurisdiction, so I put in calls to the local PDs to get the official information. As you can imagine, that takes time and, in some cases, even warrants. You can also imagine that some of the buyers were spooked that they bought stolen property and that was before they knew the seller was murdered. They stopped getting chatty after that."

  "I can imagine," I agreed. I had the same problem when I spoke to the auction house but at least I succeeded in getting the unsold items returned. Or at least, I hoped I did. They hadn't appeared yet but I expected them in the next day or two.

  "What can you tell us?" asked Ethan.

  "Forensics came up with very little. A couple of fibers on Lance that could have been transferred from the killer. Nothing special but we might find an item of clothing that matches. As you'd expect in any museum, there were plenty of fingerprints. Fortunately, the exhibition cases in that room were all cleaned prior to the exhibition but we still had a lot to look at. We've confirmed all of them as belonging to museum employees and volunteers, thanks to the internal vetting system. Not that it means anything now since the murderer could be intimately involved with the museum."

  "It's not Tess," said Ethan angrily. "She could have been killed for that ledger!"

  "And I gave you the prints I had. Why would I do that if I were the killer?" I asked.

  Detective Logan held up a hand. "Relax. I don't think it’s you. Not least because you would have had a hard time hitting yourself on the back of the head."

  "I need some fresh air," I said. This time, when I tried to stand, Ethan was there, ready to support me. Now upright, I stood still, checking my balance in case dizziness overtook me. When I didn't topple over, I cautiously tried a tentative step.

  "Let's get you downstairs and one of my officers can give you both a ride home," said Detective Logan. "I'd appreciate it if you locked this door and left a key with me until I can take a closer look. I can come by your house and get a full statement later."

  "It won't be any longer than what I already told you," I warned him. Ethan took my jacket and purse as he supported me and we walked out, careful not to stand on anything that was scattered across the floor. Ethan didn’t have to put his arm around me, but it was reassuring. It was also very, very nice but I tried not to think about that, not when I was so furious that someone dared to attack me!

  "All the same. Paperwork," the detective explained with a shrug.

  Detective Logan pulled the door closed and I inserted my key, locking it before I unclipped it from my house keys and dropped it into his palm. I couldn't remember the last time I locked my office door. There was never any need. "I'll see it's returned to you as soon as I can. I prefer that you don't go into your office until then but I doubt you'll need to overnight."

  "That's right. I just have to lock up the museum. I must be the last one here. Everyone else will have left by now," I said as we headed for the stairs, Ethan still supporting me and Detective Logan right behind us.

  "Artie was in the lobby when I arrived," said Ethan.

  "Why?" I frowned.

  "I called him," said Detective Logan, causing my frown to deepen.

  "What's going on?" I asked. I stopped at the top of the stairs so I could turn to face him. Clearly, I missed something, but what?

  "Actually, we got a tip an hour ago. That's partly why I came. When I got here, there was some confusion about whether you left so I called Artie to come in and close up. When Ethan arrived, looking for you, we realized you were still here."

  "I see," I said, nodding. Yet, I didn't quite see anything. "Karen would have locked up. You didn't need to call in Artie."

  "A tip?" asked Ethan, at the same time.

  "An anonymous caller phoned in a tip. One of my officers took it and passed it along to me."

  "What kind of tip?" I pressed. "Was it about the ledger? No one else but Ethan, Artie and Karen knew about it."

  "No. We were told where to find the dagger used in Lance Fleming's murder. Apparently, it got stashed in the museum and the killer was preparing to move it, obviously thinking it was now safe to do so. We managed to intercept it."

  "That's great!" I grinned at Ethan and he beamed a smile back to me.

  "They must have realized Tess had vital information and panicked," said Ethan. "They took the ledger from here and removed the dagger from wherever they hid it."

  "But how?" I wondered. We walked downstairs and I tried not to bounce on the steps. Each drop in the descent rang through my head. "How did they know what information I had?"

  "Did you find the person?" asked Ethan.

  Detective Logan nodded. "Yes. Although I didn't find the ledger, they might have tossed it away quickly. We'll find it, I'm sure. The tip turned out to be solid. The dagger was exactly where they said it was and we've made an arrest."

  Ethan pulled open the door and we stepped into the lobby. By the doors stood two uniformed officers, their backs to us. When they heard our footsteps, both turned. "Ready to go, Detective?" called one. When they separated, I gasped. In between them, wearing handcuffs with her head bowed, stood Karen. She looked up, her face streaked with tears.

  "Oh, Tess! Tell them! You have to tell them I didn't do this!"

  "I don't understand," I choked. "What's going on?"

  "We found the dagger in Karen's purse just before we came to find you. We arrested her for Lance’s murder," said Detective Logan.

  Chapter Twenty

  "Tess, we didn't expect to see you." George broke away from the assembled board members and rushed towards me when I arrived at the museum shortly before lunch. "Artie told us what happened. My goodness. Are you okay?"

  "My head is a little tender but apart from that, I'm fine." I forced a smile on my face but wondered whom I was reassuring. My headache finally subsided last night but Leah insisted on waking me three times just to make sure I didn't die in my sleep. It was a sweet, loving gesture, but I was paying for the lack of sleep this morning. Just to make things more interesting, Ethan insisted on sleeping on our couch in case he "needed to rush me to hospital during the night." I reluctantly consented after Leah and Brooke concurred it was a good idea since neither of them could drive yet. This morning Leah decided to cook us French toast for breakfast and Brooke ran to the store for strawberries. With all the fussing over me -- something I secretly enjoyed -- we all ate a very pleasant breakfast. I wondered if I'd fallen into the twilight zone, suddenly having a man in the house again, and I liked it. After Leah and Brooke left for school, each contending I should really take the whole day off and not just the morning, Ethan completed the lovely weirdness by
driving me to work. I convinced him he didn't need to walk me in and he could come by for a late lunch, and yes, I would call him for a ride if I decided to leave.

  "You should be at home in bed," continued George.

  I shrugged off his alarm. "Tempting as that sounds, I'm okay and I didn't want to needlessly take a day off work," I said as Caroline and one of the other women approached.

  "Well, you don't need to worry about a thing. We're just shocked. Absolutely shocked. Who would have thought Karen would break like that?" George shook his head, his face downcast. "We convened an emergency meeting of the board to talk about the events and continue with our discussion on how to move forward."

  "Don't you think you're being a little premature? We don't know Karen was guilty of anything!" I thought about it all night. I tried to call the station but no one would let me talk to her. I couldn't imagine Karen killing Lance anymore than her bashing me over the head. It was simply inconceivable.

  "She was arrested! I have every faith in the Calendar Police Department that they got the right person. I'm just glad we can finally end all the speculation and put it behind us." George peered at me. "Are you sure you shouldn't be at home? You look a little flushed."

  "Tess!" Artie broke away from the crowd and rushed over, saving me from having to repeat, once again, that I was fine or answer any of the questions poised on Caroline's lips. "I'm so glad to see you're okay," he said as he took me by the arm and guided me away to Karen's reception desk. I shuddered involuntarily.

  "Have you spoken to Karen?" I asked him.

  "It's all in hand. I called a lawyer and we believe she'll be released imminently. After being interviewed at length and spending an uncomfortable night in a cell at the police department, she's in pretty good spirits. Her lawyer is very hopeful that she'll be released soon."

 

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