Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 02 - Frogs, Snails, and a Lot of Wails

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by Janet McNulty


  His men rode off with the bags as Jackie and I headed for the museum.

  “Oh, and, Mel,” said Tiny, “stay out of mischief.”

  Why is it people always think I’m up to something? Am I that transparent?

  “Sounds like they know what you’re up to,” said Jackie.

  We made our way to the museum which lay on the south side of town. We arrived there within fifteen minutes. People lined up outside the building. Admission was free for their new display though the museum did encourage us to make a donation. I never thought people took such interest in history.

  A billboard by the entrance told me why so many had showed up. A big picture of a necklace with a ruby pendant filled it. The words The Rose Pendant Legend or Real? were written on the top in fancy script.

  Of course. People weren’t there because of the debut on local history. They were there for a piece of jewelry worth over $100,000. We joined the line and entered the museum. It had an old feeling about it. Much of the architecture resembled that of the late 1800s.

  I admired the artwork, plants, and the displays of clothing worn in another time that lined the rooms. Murals of what the town looked like in Colonial days lined the walls.

  We wandered into a room that had the largest crowd in it. Precious jewels in glass cases surrounded us. On the far wall was another picture of the Rose Pendant. Underneath was the story of the necklace starting from the time Pen Mills received it to the time it disappeared.

  Several more paragraphs discussed the legend of it being hidden in the house. Other stories said that it had been stolen by pirates, was sold at auction, or smuggled to the confederate side of the Civil War. Another story said that Pen Mills’ great granddaughter took it with her when she eloped against her father’s wishes and traveled out west with her husband. Supposedly, they had been attacked by a bunch of Indians and the necklace disappeared then.

  These were all stories and I doubted any one of them were true. Most likely, Josiah Mills had secretly sold it for money since he had lost most of his fortune during the war. That’s what I would have done. The other stories were interesting, but their embellishments made them sound more like fiction than truth. Besides, according to Timothy, Josiah said it was beneath the rose, which still didn’t make any sense.

  Someone tapped my arm. “In a minute,” I said thinking it was Jackie. The tapping continued and grew more insistent despite my efforts to shake it off. “Will you stop?”

  A couple standing next to me glanced in my direction. A puzzled look crossed their features as they moved away from me.

  “You know when someone taps on your shoulder it means they want your attention,” said Timothy. “By the way, you might want to control your temper. People will start to think you’re crazy.”

  “They’re going to think I’m crazy for talking to a ghost,” I hissed.

  “Oh. Right,” said Timothy.

  “What do you want?”

  “There are some people here who look as though they don’t belong,” said Timothy.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He pointed to a couple of guys. One stood near the exit while another placed himself very close to a case that held a set of emerald earrings. Unlike the others in the room who looked upon the displays with awe and moved on, these two stayed in their spots. The guy near the exit studied the crowd more than the glass cases. The other one near the earrings did not even look at them. Instead, he too watched the throng of people.

  “Jackie,” I said pointing out the two men. “Don’t they seem suspicious to you?”

  Before she could answer a loud crash sounded in the main entranceway. Everyone turned in its direction just as the lights went off. Within seconds they turned back on.

  “Look,” exclaimed an elderly lady, “They’re gone! The earrings are gone!” Sure enough, the emerald earrings had been taken and the top of the glass case swung on its hinges.

  “Quick,” I said grabbing Jackie’s arm and pulling her with me. We raced out of the room and into the entranceway. I saw one of the men going out the door. “There!”

  We ran through the glass doors and out onto the street. The man and his buddy dashed down the sidewalk away from us. I took off after them followed closely by Jackie. When we were yards away a white van pulled up on the curb. Its tires squealed as it came to a halt. The two men jumped inside. Before they had even finished closing the door, the van sped off down the street.

  “Dammit,” I yelled. “They got away!”

  “Did you get their license plate?” asked Jackie.

  “No,” I replied, “But if these guys are professionals then it’s probably a fake anyway.”

  Timothy appeared beside us. “That was a really smooth theft,” he said.

  “You’re praising them?” I stared at him in disbelief.

  “No, but it was well executed. The one by the case took the earrings the moment the lights turned off. The guy near the entrance managed to rig a remote that would turn them off.”

  “What about the crash?” asked Jackie.

  “That was an accident,” said Timothy, “Turned out one of the employees dropped some china. The thieves just used it to their full advantage.”

  “But I thought that there were security systems in place to prevent theft,” said Jackie.

  “There are,” said Timothy, “Or there would have been. Turned out whoever wired the security system, tied it into the main circuit that controlled the lights.”

  “So when the lights turned off, so did everything else,” I said. “That was no accident.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” said Timothy. “I did some checking and AVS Security, who handles this place, said they never sent anyone here.”

  “So our thief was probably the guy who came by the museum and set up the security system,” I said.

  “I don’t get it,” said Jackie, “If they wanted the diamond, why not take it when he was here rigging the electrical?”

  “Probably because everything was kept in a safe until after the system was set up,” I said. “And to take anything then would increase the chance of getting caught.”

  “You know,” said Jackie, “They could have come in at night and stolen everything in that room. Think of how much that stuff is worth?”

  “They could have, but it would have been evidence of a highly deficient mind,” said Timothy. Upon Jackie’s confused look he explained further, “Taking everything requires a lot of planning and timing. Not to mention getting as far away as possible. But one item is easy to hide. Besides the earrings were the most valuable thing in the museum. They were Pen Mills’ and she wore them on her wedding day.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Jackie.

  “You learn things when you’re a ghost,” replied Timothy, “Plus the card in front of the display mentioned it.”

  “Miss Summers.”

  I whipped around immediately recognizing the voice. Detective Shorts stood there and he did not look happy.

  “Why is it,” he said, “Whenever there is trouble I find you?”

  He had a point there. It did seem as though where trouble appeared so did I. That seems to be what happens when you attract ghosts. Or rather, when they come looking for you. Of course, I couldn’t tell him any of that.

  “I was just visiting the museum and their new grand opening,” I said.

  “On the sidewalk?” asked Detective Shorts.

  OK, he didn’t believe me. No surprise there. I really needed to learn how to tell a story. “We were in the museum,” I said. “But we ran out here—”

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” said Detective shorts.

  Jackie and I relayed how someone handed us a flyer advertising the museum’s new opening and we decided to attend. We told them how we were in the area with the displays of the Mills family’s jewels when the lights went out. His eyebrows rose when I told him how I chased after a couple of guys as they ran out the door.

  �
�And why were you chasing them?” asked Detective Shorts.

  “I noticed them earlier before the lights went out,” I replied. “They were acting suspicious.”

  “Suspicious how?”

  “One stood by the exit while another stood near the earrings. They seemed more interested in the crowd than the museum’s exhibitions.”

  “So you decided to play sleuth again and run after them,” said Detective Shorts. He said it in a kind way, but I could tell that he thought I had overstepped my bounds.

  “We had to solve Timothy’s murder,” blurted out Jackie. She slapped her hand over her mouth the moment she said it.

  I put my face in my hands. Way to go, Jackie, just let out our big secret.

  “Murder?” Detective Shorts’ expression changed from slightly disappointed to very interested. “Who was murdered?”

  Jackie and I eyed each other. Neither of us knew how to talk our way out of this.

  “He’s a ghost,” I said.

  “Ghost?” asked Detective Shorts. “Do you need to see a psychiatrist?”

  “I’m being serious,” I said.

  “So am I,” replied the detective.

  “A ghost named Timothy showed up a few nights ago telling us that he had been murdered. He had heard about how Mel helped solve Rachel’s murder and thought that she could help him too since the cops have failed. Now it appears as though his death is connected to the thefts that have been going on around here.”

  Both Detective Shorts and I stared at Jackie in disbelief. Not only did she spill everything, but she had spoken so fast it was as though we had put her on fast forward.

  “Timothy, you say?”

  We nodded in answer to Detective Shorts’ question.

  “You two almost had me there,” said Detective Shorts, “Timothy was a high school student that decided to explore the Mills Estate. The kid suffered an asthma attack and died. His body was found near the gate.

  “Though tragic, his death was ruled natural causes.”

  I glared at Timothy, who now tried to be inconspicuous.

  “I’m sorry. I just—” Timothy vanished.

  “You two need to work on your humor,” said Detective Shorts flipping his pad of paper closed. “Now go home. And if I hear of either of you snooping around in these robberies, I’ll arrest you myself.”

  “That went well,” said Jackie.

  “Timothy lied to me,” I said in response.

  Jackie placed her hand on my shoulder in consolation. We had all believed his story.

  Chapter 7

  We went straight home. When we walked into the apartment, Jackie’s packages were in the living room just as Tiny had promised. Jackie put them in her room.

  My cell phone rang. “Hello,” I answered.

  “Mellow.” Mr. Stilton’s voice was on the other end. “I just wanted to let you know that there is no need for you and Jackie to come to work tomorrow.”

  Instantly, I thought we were being fired. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. But with the break in I am having a new security system installed and it’s best if the store is closed for that.’”

  Relief washed over me. I hoped I hadn’t sounded worried on the phone. “Yeah, I’ll tell her. Thanks.” Then, a thought occurred to me. “Who’s installing the system?”

  “AVS Security,” replied Mr. Stilton. If he thought my question was strange, he never said anything.

  I hung up.

  “Who was that?” asked Jackie as she came into the room.

  “Our boss. He says that the store will be closed tomorrow so we have the day off.”

  “Excellent. I’m gonna hop in the shower. See ya in a few.”

  AVS Security. The name rolled around in my head until I realized that that was the same company that installed the system in the museum. Or at least they were supposed to.

  I grabbed my keys and headed out the door running straight into Greg.

  “Hey,” he greeted.

  “Come on.” I seized his arm and dragged him after me. Surprisingly, he didn’t protest. We hopped in my car and went to the Candle Shoppe. I parked a few stores down.

  “Mel, do you mind telling me what’s going on?” asked Greg.

  I answered by jumping out of the car. I trotted over toward the shop and paused behind a tree, making certain that no one saw me.

  Greg walked up beside me. “Mel?”

  I realized that I’d have to tell him why I brought us here, so I pulled him aside. “Jackie and I were at the museum today when a pair of earrings were stolen. We also learned that AVS Security was responsible for setting up their security system. The same company that my boss has called for the store.”

  “But that place was already robbed.”

  “Yes, but, it’s the same company that was supposed to protect the items in the museum. I want to know if there’s a connection.”

  “Does this have something to do with whoever killed Timothy?” asked Greg.

  “Timothy wasn’t murdered,” I replied testily, “Detective Shorts said he died of an asthma attack.”

  “Well, why did he lie?”

  “Who cares,” I said.

  “So then why are you investigating your own workplace?” asked Greg.

  “Because despite the fact that Timothy lied, something strange has been going on the last few days. Things have been disappearing. And I want to know who’s responsible.”

  “Alright, I’m in. Just don’t get yourself killed,” said Greg.

  I pecked him on the cheek.

  “You two stealing a moment?” Jack, Greg’s cousin, walked up with a drink and a bag of burgers in his hands.

  “You know,” I whispered to Greg, “We really need to get in there and ask some questions.”

  “Jack, buddy,” Greg said.

  Jack paused. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

  “Jack, don’t be like that,” said Greg. “Do you still have that fake badge of yours? The one that looks fairly realistic?”

  “Yeah,” replied Jack with caution.

  “I need you to use it,” said Greg.

  “No. I won’t do it.”

  “I wonder if your mother knows the real reason you didn’t go to her dance rehearsal last month.”

  “That is blackmail,” said Jack.

  “So you’ll help?”

  Jack put his food and soda down. He pulled out his fake badge. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Go in there and ask the people if they are aware of the robbery at the museum. And if they are aware that someone dressed in their uniform set up the security system. Basically, try to find out if they are in on the robberies.”

  Reluctantly, Jack did as asked. He straightened his tie trying to make himself look like a real detective. I didn’t think anything would accomplish that.

  Greg and I edged a little closer so that we could listen in on Jack’s attempts to gather information.

  “Good afternoon,” said Jack. He flipped open his badge just long enough for the foreman to get a glimpse at it. Someone had been watching too many cop shows.

  “Look I don’t know anything about the museum incident,” said the foreman defensively.

  Perfect, I thought, he opened the door right up.

  “You are aware that someone pretending to be from your company was at the museum to set up their security system?” asked Jack.

  “Why don’t you ask the company?”

  “I’m asking you,” said Jack, “You are the one in charge of onsite operations?”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of it. Look, we never got a call from the museum.”

  “Then who did they end up calling?”

  “How should I know?” The foreman’s anger showed. I guessed that he had been grilled earlier by Detective Shorts.

  “Is it possible that someone had access to your uniforms?” asked Jack.

  “Yeah, it’s possible,” replied the foreman, “Two weeks ago. One of my guys forgot to lock his van. When
he returned he found some tools missing.”

  “What did he do after that?”

  “He reported the theft, but you cops never did anything about it.”

  Jack finished up his questioning. It had become obvious that the foreman was done talking. And he did not want to blow his cover.

  I noticed one of the workers watching the entire proceeding very closely. He looked like one of the guys at the museum. I pointed him out to Greg. The guy looked at us. We quickly turned away, but I knew he made us.

  He edged his way to the door and past Jack and the foreman. Then, we walked casually down the sidewalk.

  Jack came up to us. “There isn’t much else I can get from him,” he said, “Is there anything else you want?”

  “No. Thanks.” I grabbed Greg and pulled him along after the man as he tore down the street.

  He walked quickly. We moved faster to keep up. The guy’s speed increased. He glanced back at us. Suddenly, he broke into a run.

  “He made us. Come on,” I said to Greg.

  We ran after the man. He clutched people who stood idly on the sidewalk and shoved them in our way. At other times, he threw crates of produce from the local grocery in our path. We hopped over them doing our best not to trip.

  The guy darted around a corner. Greg and I swerved around in pursuit, but he was gone. We both glanced around finding nothing.

  “Where is he?” asked Greg.

  In answer to our question a white van raced down the street barreling through the intersection almost causing a collision. Lost him again. I silently swore to myself. I couldn’t believe that I had lost the same man twice in one day.

  “We lost him,” I cried in frustration.

  “Come on,” said Greg, “Let’s get something to eat.”

  This time he grabbed my arm and pulled me along to the outdoor café. It was a new place that had opened two months earlier. The entire thing was outdoors, except for the kitchen. But people didn’t mind. Even in the winter, they lined up to sit outside and enjoy a hot meal.

  I had to admit that I liked the atmosphere of the café. The food was reliable and affordable. Not to mention that the head cook thought Greg and I were a really cute couple and usually gave us free pie. I’m sure he paid for it himself, but I wasn’t going to argue with a guy who wanted to give me free food.

 

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