Mayhem in May

by Camilla Chafer

  Trying to stay calm while my heart pounded was a feat in itself but I forced myself to think. I couldn't exit the museum via the lobby and that left only the door to the parking lot. George would know that. There was no way I could get there before him.

  Surely, he would lie in wait until the moment I tried to make my escape. I would throw open the windows on the upper floor and shout for help but he might grab me before I could. I had no idea if I could shimmy down a downspout. I never even thought of checking where they were in relation to the windows. Even if I were sure it was possible, I was a Museum Deputy Manager not Spiderwoman!

  Could I hide? The museum had plenty of large furniture I could hide inside but that would leave me trapped. It wouldn't take George long to start checking under beds and inside wardrobes and behind curtains. I could keep moving between rooms, evading him until I managed to escape, but I couldn't do that for long. One false move and he would be on me.

  The thumping on the door ceased and I strained to hear his receding footsteps. He intended to come upstairs via the staircase. That’s what I would do in his position.

  I had a fleeting thought about removing the chair barrier and sneaking back into the mezzanine, doubling back to the lobby while George sneaked up the grand staircase but I knew he would think of that. He might even wait a few minutes, just out of sight, for me to creep down the mezzanine stairs before pouncing on me. Even though he was older than me by almost two decades, I had little chance against a man of George's superior height and build.

  No, I had to go forward and devise a plan quickly.

  The museum seemed unnaturally still and I was sure my pounding heart was audible along with every step I took and every creak the floorboards made. If I went into one of the bedrooms, I would be trapped with no exit. Each room had only one entry and one exit and the scant furnishings made searching the room easy. The rear exhibition rooms overlooked the back of the property where no one would see me even if I could open a window. If I stepped into the rooms at the front of the property at the wrong time, George would easily overpower me and prevent me from leaving. I might not even have a chance to open one of the windows and scream for help.

  I could still try for the office suites but they used the same stairwell as the door that accessed the parking lot. George could have gone directly there, knowing I would look for a phone to call for help.

  Every second I remained in the upstairs hallway, paralyzed with indecision, was another second in his favor. I had to decide what to do fast.

  There was only one place I hadn't considered. The roof!

  George expected me to go down, not up. If I went up, I could wave and shout for help from the roof, alerting someone to call the police. I didn't spend a lot of time on the roof but I was reasonably sure of the layout. There was one entry point and if I could block that, I would be safe up there until someone could rescue me.

  The roof was accessed through a door hidden in one of the exhibition rooms, rather than from the staircase. I broke into a jog, my fists raised and ready in case George surprised me and darted into the room. I didn't dare shut the door behind me, lest I alert him to where I was but I wished I’d shut some of the other doors along the way just to confuse him.

  The door to the roof was concealed behind a thick sweep of velvet curtain. Few people aside from those who worked here, and the occasional tradesperson, knew it was there. It was always unlocked and only accessed the staircase -- the attic space had another locked internal door -- and the door at the top was a "shut and lock" device. I pulled back the curtain and stepped behind it, grinning when I saw the old firefighter axe hanging on the wall. We had several in other prominent locations but this was an old model from when the museum first opened and not part of the official safety procedure. With its long handle and sharp edge, it was perfect. I unhooked it, opened the door and reached behind me to reposition the curtain. As I clicked the door shut, I thought I heard footsteps on the landing. George must have given up waiting for me and started to search.

  I tiptoed up the dark staircase, too scared to switch on the lights, and felt my way up the banister until I reached the top. I eased open the door and stepped onto the roof, pushing the door shut behind me and locking me out of the museum. I took the handle of the axe and threaded it through the bars where a lever was once used to bar the door closed. Trying it, I was pleased. It didn't budge.

  Turning away from the door, I hurried to the edge. There was no time to lose! Much as I hated the idea of leaning over the edge and shouting to pedestrians on the sidewalk below, I had no other choice. I hoped someone would hear me and send help.

  I started to walk to the edge, forcing myself to remain claim on the uneven walkway. I was mere moments away from aid. I just had to remain steady.

  "Where are you going, Tess?" came George's voice behind me.

  I yelped, startled, and slipped, my foot sliding from the walkway onto the tiles. My ankle turned and my butt hit the hard surface. "How did you get up here?" I asked, breathing hard. I glanced around, looking for somewhere to run to but there was nowhere. Even worse, my ankle throbbed.

  "Do you think that doorway was the only access way up here?" he laughed. "This museum is full of surprises. Lance found another doorway. It was hidden for decades behind a pile of boxes in the storeroom in the office wing and no one ever bothered to look. He couldn't wait to show it to me. As soon as I saw you go into the exhibition room, I knew where you were headed and I just doubled back onto the staircase and used the secret passage. Now it's just the two of us up here." George stepped forwards, his face chilling me to my core and I scrambled back.

  "Why are you doing this?" I asked, my heart beating rapidly.

  George stopped and shook his head. "You found out all about me. I knew it was only a matter of time. I'm surprised you didn't know before but as Manager you would have had access to everything and I couldn't let that happen. Lance thought he was being so smart, insisting on getting the promotion. He thought he would soon have the upper hand but it was perfect. Once he had access to all the information, he would be so easy to set up."

  "I don't understand. You were his partner."

  George shrugged. "Lance was a nasty, little thief and not all that clever but we made it work. I told him what to steal and he followed my orders. He sold the items too and we split the proceeds. He thought it was all his idea."

  "Wasn't it?" I blinked, feeling confused. A glance behind me revealed several meters before I reached the edge, but if I ran, would George push me over? The idea made me gulp in fear.

  "At first, yes. The thefts anyway. He stole a few things and thought he got away with it; but he didn't realize the whole trail led directly to him," explained George.

  "And he pulled you into his scheme?" I frowned. This wasn't making any sense.

  "Lance thought he did. Really, I pulled him into my scheme. I needed an idiot like him to blame. Who better to take the fall for me than a thief? Unfortunately, he realized what was going on and I had to get rid of him. Not that it matters now. A dead thief can't argue."

  "You intended to blame him for all the thefts and keep the money? No one was supposed to know you were involved," I said, the puzzle pieces finally clicking together.

  "That's right. I knew it wasn't long until you did your yearly audit and discovered items were missing so I had to be quick. Then Artie decided to retire and that really threw a wrench in the works for me. Artie, you see, took his eye off the important things about the job a long time ago."

  "He couldn't possibly have known about the thefts. I only stumbled onto it by accident."

  "Yes, Lance really was stupid to take that book that night but we had an order for it and stood to get a lot of money."

  "And that's why you killed him?"

  "It was a lot of money but not life-changing money," George scoffed. "Lance was talking about leaving with what he made. He was supposed to take the promotion just long enough that I could be sure an anonymous tip wo
uld send him to jail."

  "For the thefts?"

  "No, you fool!" George laughed, "for embezzlement."

  "Embezzling?" What was he talking about?

  "It's not a stretch, is it, for a thief? First he gets caught with a clear trail stealing artifacts from the museum and then he’s caught dipping his fingers in the till and trying to sell off the outbuildings. I know you found out all about that."

  "The outbuildings, yes, but embezzling? I didn't know anything about that!" It all started to make sense. George managed the museum’s accounts and he knew if I got promoted I would have discovered the embezzlement and he couldn't let that happen. Not when he had the perfect fall guy.

  George's mouth split into a nasty grin as he took another step towards me. "Oops. Did I give the game away? It doesn't matter now. It's not like you can tell anyone."

  "Who’d believe me?" I asked. "Like you said, you framed Lance for everything and he can't defend himself. Just let me go."

  He shook his head. "I can't do that. You figured out too much and now you know the rest, I can't risk you blabbing it to the police or the rest of the board. No, you're going to have a nasty accident. Maybe you were disorientated after your head injury. Or perhaps you were overcome by remorse at Lance's death." He glanced beyond me and I knew what he was thinking: I couldn't survive that fall.

  "Everyone knows I had nothing to do with it." I looked around, seeking a way out but George stood between me and the doorway I barred.

  "Everyone knows your alibi for Lance's murder isn't strong and you could easily have attempted to frame Karen. All I need to do is plant a few extra details and the police will be sure it was you. The book you saw Lance stealing will be found hidden in your office. A bloody tissue used to wipe the dagger will be inside your purse and a text from your phone will confess everything."

  "No one will believe it!"

  "I can be very convincing. Get up, Tess. Let's get this over with." George reached a hand out to me but I scrambled away, backwards and closer to the edge. I didn't want to get up. If I did, he might rush me and push me over, hurtling me to the sidewalk below. Yet, if I didn't, he might grab me and force me over the edge anyway. I glanced behind me, realizing I only had a couple of meters left before I reached the edge.

  "You won't get away with this!" I yelled.

  George laughed. "Isn't that what they all say at the end?"

  "No one will ever believe that I jumped. I have too much to live for." And I did. I had a wonderful life. A wonderful family, great friends, a job I loved and Ethan. I'd found Ethan.

  "And yet there was no one else here when you jumped. The police will find the roof door open. Even if they discover the other entrance, they'll see it's unusable." George lunged for me, grabbing my arms and pulling me upright. I struggled and kicked but I didn't have time to celebrate victory when I felt my toe connecting with his shin. Wincing, he slapped me hard across the face before pushing me back, advancing with the knife in his hand. My back hit the half height wall and I struggled to grip the top, knowing it was no use. There would be nothing to hold onto when he forced me over the edge. In a moment of horror, I realized my only tactic left was to grab hold of him when he pushed me and take him with me. That thought sickened me.

  "Goodbye, Tess," he said as he planted one hand on my chest.

  "No!" I screamed in terror.

  George's eyes widened, first in confusion then, I realized, in shock as he slumped forwards, his body jerking. Instead of knocking me over the edge, we fell to a heap on the ground. From under him, I stared up at the blue, cloudless sky, blinking in confusion as Detective Logan loomed over us. He held up a small device.

  "Taser," he said. "Didn't want to risk shooting him in case he took you both over the edge."

  "Where did you come from?" I gasped as I pushed off the writhing, burdensome weight of George.

  Detective Logan grinned and moved to one side so I could see Ethan behind him.

  "I knew something was wrong when I saw your purse on the lobby floor," Ethan explained as he helped to extract me from under George. "I tried calling you but I could hear your cell phone ringing. Detective Logan happened along and we broke in. We saw George Phelps running up the stairs so we followed him. He went into what looked like a store room and didn't come out so we went after him and ended up out here."

  "We heard everything," added Detective Logan. "That was quite the confession. Well done for keeping him talking and distracted."

  "Distracted?" Hysterical giggles took over me and I leaned against Ethan, heaving for breath. "I was so scared, I didn't even know you were behind him!"

  Detective Logan grinned. "Neither did he." He poked George and pulled his arms behind him, cuffing him at the wrist. "George Phelps, I am arresting you for murder."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  "Ethan, this is stunning!" I gazed at the scale model Ethan built of the museum with its new wing. It was a marvelous mini building, dollhouse sized, with all the museum's stunning features detailed, along with his interpretation of the new wing. The latter had a detachable roof that he lifted off so I could see inside. Although it was supposed to be the final touch to sign off the project before construction began, I was glad I persuaded him to allow us to display it. We kept it safely under glass in the lobby inside a custom-built case to protect it from inquisitive fingers. Hopefully, it would remain there even after the new wing was completed. The visitors certainly seemed to love it just as much as I did.

  "Glad you like it," said Ethan. He replaced the roof and closed the glass case. "It was just a little thing I knocked together. Barely took me any time at all." He winked and I laughed. I couldn't imagine how much time it took to create the painstakingly beautiful building.

  "It's perfect."

  We were gathered in the museum lobby two weeks after George attempted to throw me off the roof. The museum had just finished its first successful late-night opening and now that all the visitors had gone home, the staff were having our own party in the lobby. The party was supposed to be for me, as a surprise, but I knew it was more than that.

  "To Tess!" said Artie, raising his glass. "Congratulations on your promotion. I know you will do a far better job than I and the museum is in safe hands with you."

  Glasses were raised and I felt a blush rising on my cheeks as my friends and colleagues saluted me. I hooked my arm in Artie's and raised my lips to his ears. "You have to stop beating yourself up about this," I told him. "You were an excellent Manager and the museum wouldn't be what it is without you."

  "If I hadn't been so eager to start my retirement, I might have taken a closer look at the accounts over the past few months and realized what was going on before that... that terrible man... he killed Lance, tried to frame Karen and even tried to kill you. I don't know what I would have done if he hurt you! Tess, I'm so..." Artie choked on his unshed tears.

  "Don't you dare apologize again," I told him. "The only person to blame here is George for being greedy and tapping the museum for all the money he could get his covetous, grasping hands on. He thought one more murder was his way out and he could frame me. He's going to get exactly what he deserves for his crimes."

  The trial was a long way off but Detective Logan assured me it would be "a slamdunk" given that both he and Ethan were witnesses to George's confession. With their testimony and mine, and Ethan’s clever recording of George on his cell phone, not to mention the other evidence mounting against him, there was no chance George would be exonerated for his crimes. He would soon face a long stretch in a prison, exactly where he belonged.

  In the days after George's attempt to get rid of me, I discovered Detective Logan's tech buddy cracked the whole cipher almost immediately, since it was so simple. He alerted him to the contents almost at the same time as I emailed him to let him know I cracked the numbers portion of Lance's notes. Knowing that I could be in danger, the detective came to the museum first instead of searching for George elsewhere. I was lucky that
he and Ethan arrived at almost the same time. Ethan realized I was in trouble and Detective Logan knew exactly what to do.

  If they hadn't arrived when they did, I was sure George would have wrestled me over the side of the building and sent me plummeting to my death. I fully believed that he would have framed me to facilitate his own escape. I wasn't convinced anyone would swallow that I was responsible for any of the crimes but by the time they figured it all out, George would probably be far away, along with the money he siphoned off from the museum's accounts.

  Once George recuperated from the effect of the taser, he protested his innocence and said that he was really afraid of me but Detective Logan just laughed that off. By the time his lawyer arrived at the police station, he attempted to put all the wrongdoing onto me and Lance, insisting we were working together and lying about what he apparently uncovered.

  Fortunately, by taking that stance, he provided enough information for the police to uncover all of his crimes. A specialist forensic accountant had to be brought in to look over the museum's accounts but even when I ran through the figures, I could work out that George was siphoning off money for some time. He started small by keeping some donations, cashing them and taking the money, and then he went bigger, filing phony invoices and paying them with the museum's money. It turned out he could no longer afford the lifestyle he’d gotten used to and he was desperate to keep up appearances. Having access to all the museum's money, and being trusted to run the accounts as president of the board, provided an easy way to grab some money for himself.

  When Artie announced his retirement, George panicked. He knew I was diligently looking for new ways for the museum to make money as well as keeping an eye on costs for the new wing. Especially after George's own gripes about the museum apparently not making enough money. He was right that I would have checked the accounts regularly and although I wasn't a financial whiz, I would have quickly uncovered his theft. At the same time, Lance knew an audit was due on the museum's contents that would uncover the missing artifacts he stole. The two of them conspired to put Lance into the manager's role and get rid of me. That way, they could keep covering up their crimes. What Lance didn't know was that George was far smarter than him and he was about to become George's fall guy for everything. Unfortunately for George, he didn't know Lance kept a ledger, implicating him in every theft.