“That might be nice. I’ve never been there. That I can remember, anyway… it’s a little strange to realize I have no idea what I did, or didn’t do here, during the three years before my father died. I wonder if I met my sister?”
“There’s one way to find out.”
Claire stirred her coffee thoughtfully.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I’m not exactly showing love by so quickly writing her off. I wasn’t even praying about it, until you said something.”
“So… what are you going to do?” he asked seriously.
“I don’t know. Continue praying about it, obviously, but… I may invite her over, or something. Maybe that would be better than meeting in public. I might see if she and her husband will come over for dinner. You and he are friends… if I do, will you come?”
“I’ll be glad to.”
“Okay, good,” she said, with a sigh of relief. “Then you can keep him busy, and maybe Marlena and I can talk.”
“Let me know when. I’ll be here,” he promised.
“Thanks,” she smiled, and so did he.
“You’re welcome. Since you don’t remember being here before… do you know where Juniper Creek gets its name?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it gets its name from Juniper trees. And a creek,” she said, and he smiled.
“Smart aleck. Yes, you’re right. Other than an educated guess, is that all you know about it?”
“That’s about it,” she admitted.
“Then, unless you schedule your dinner for the Saturday after this, I’ll take you there.”
“To the creek?” she wondered.
“Yes. There are lots of hiking trails, and picnic tables. Some grills, too. We can cook out, if you want,” Alec suggested.
“That sounds like fun,” she smiled.
“Good. Then we’ll plan on it,” he smiled back. The grandfather clock chimed the three-quarter hour, surprising them both.
“I guess we better go,” Claire said. She finished her coffee as she stood, and carried their empty mugs to the sink. Alec returned Herschel to the kitchen chair while she retrieved her lunch from the refrigerator, and her purse from the counter. She followed Alec out and locked the door behind them, then he drove her to work.
Claire waved goodbye as she swiped her card and unlocked the door of the sorting room, then stepped inside. Alec smiled and waved back, then pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the street.
He had the nicest smile. He was so nice, and so much fun to be around, Claire thought, as she shut the door behind her.
And they were just friends, she reminded herself firmly, for the umpteenth time. That day. But they were good friends, and they had plans, most of which were his idea. And… he seemed to like her…
Of course he liked her, she told herself, feeling a flash of irritation. They were friends. She needed to accept that at face value, and stop analyzing and trying to piece together evidence of something deeper.
Claire set her purse on the exhibit shelf, pulled on her gloves, and got to work.
Two hours later, Claire brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand, and gazed helplessly at the packed donate and antique shelves. If pick-up didn’t happen soon…
There was a rap at the door to the parking lot, and Claire hurried over. A glance at the small wall-mounted monitor, showed a middle-aged woman standing outside. Her silver-streaked braid was long, and her eyes sharp, behind the gold-rimmed glasses she wore. A large truck and two not quite as large men, stood behind her, waiting.
Claire opened the door.
“Hi, I’m Claire Davis. And you must be Mercy,” she smiled.
“That’s me,” the woman smiled back, and they shook hands. “I understand you’ve…”
Mercy’s voice trailed off and her eyes widened, as Claire motioned for her to come inside, and she saw the packed room.
“You understand correctly,” Claire replied, following her gaze. “Please, tell me you have room for everything on this set of shelves! And all the furniture beside it.”
Mercy dragged her eyes to the shelves, then the furniture. They narrowed as she considered that. She nodded slowly.
“It may take us a couple of trips for the furniture. But we’ll make it work.”
“Okay, because as you can see, these shelves are going to fill right back up again,” Claire pointed out.
“We’ve got a warehouse, and our store in Ashland,” Mercy assured her. “We’ll make it work.”
“Wonderful,” Claire said in relief.
Juniper Creek Thrift’s truck arrived as the last of the antiques were loaded. The next hour and a half was spent directing the pick-up of as much furniture, and other donation items, as that vehicle would hold.
“My goodness,” she heard Tammy say, and turned to find that lady gawking at the estate of the generous Mr. Edwards. “I knew it was a semi that delivered… they must’ve delivered the entire contents!”
“Yes, they did,” Claire said. She followed Tammy’s gaze to the large portion of the sorting room that held those items, then reminded herself that the antique shelves were now empty. The donation shelves were emptying. A section of the floor was also devoid of furniture, leaving room to spread out the tables again. That was a major improvement.
“Mark called,” Tammy said, snapping out of her clutter-induced stupor. “He’s available to work tomorrow. Shall I tell him to go ahead and come in?”
“Oh,” Claire said, her eyebrows knitting with concern. “Since I was planning to work Saturday, I thought I’d take off tomorrow… at least part of the day. Alec and I… we sort of have plans.”
“Say no more,” Tammy ordered, holding up her hands. “You go right ahead. Saturday, it’ll be.”
“If… you’re sure…” Claire said uncertainly.
“Positively,” Tammy replied firmly. “Don’t think another thing about it. I’ll let Mark know he’ll start Saturday morning, just as we planned.”
“Okay, I just hate to cancel on Alec…” Claire said hesitantly.
“I’d hate it if you cancelled on me, too,” she heard Alec say, and glanced over her shoulder. He smiled at her and Tammy, and gave her a curious look, as he side-stepped the guys from Juniper Creek Thrift, who were going back and forth between their truck and the sorting room, via the open, rolling door.
“Don’t you worry about it,” Tammy said with finality. “She’s not cancelling a thing. You two enjoy your Friday.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” Alec smiled. He raised an eyebrow as Claire glanced at him. “You heard the lady.”
“Okay, fine,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “No worrying, no canceling. I just don’t want to let down the Lochlans. I haven’t even been here a week.”
“You’re not letting anyone down,” Tammy said, waving away that ridiculous idea. “You’re coming in Saturday, as scheduled.”
“As long as you’re still coming with me Friday, then you won’t let anyone down,” Alec added.
“Okay, fine,” Claire said, laughing a little. “I feel double-teamed.”
“Whatever it takes,” Tammy said. She smiled and patted Alec’s arm as she turned and walked back toward the door leading to the offices. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Smith,” Alec replied. He looked back at the open door to the parking lot, the Juniper Creek Thrift truck, the almost empty shelves, and the empty floor space. “You got a lot done this morning.”
“Tell me about it,” Claire said, brushing back her hair with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry about lunch, but I can’t leave the sorting room open, and unattended…”
“I’ve got time,” Alec assured her. “I’ll move some tables for you, while Chris’ guys finish up.”
“Thanks,” she replied gratefully. “I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome,” he smiled.
Alec carefully widened the space between the tables, while Claire ensured nothing fell as he did so. By the
time that task was complete, the Juniper Creek Thrift truck was loaded and on its way back to the store. Claire collected her lunch from the breakroom, Alek retrieved his lunch from his truck, and they headed to the park.
The noonday sun was warm, and the air heavy with the scent of cut grass. Birds sang high up in the tall trees that dotted the large grassy expanse separating the sidewalk from the town library. Their exuberant singing wasn’t quite enough to drown out the sound of the distant lawnmower, but neither were they drowned out by it.
“Is it the library that has your undivided attention, the lawnmower, or is it the guy riding it?” Alec asked. Claire glanced up at him and caught the teasing gleam in his eyes.
“I’m not staring at him, if that’s what you’re asking! But the lawnmower does have me thinking. Do you suppose there’s one in the garage? What did my grandmother do?”
“She hired someone, I’m sure she did,” Alec replied, thinking back. “That doesn’t mean there’s no lawnmower, though. I’m pretty sure your grandfather used to do the mowing. Unless your grandmother got rid of it, you probably do have one in your garage.”
“Good, because my lawn is going to need mowed sometime. I need to see what else is inside the garage, too.”
“You haven’t done that yet?”
“No, I’ve been busy every minute. I still have all of the boxes that were in my walk-through closet to investigate, and the ones in the secret sitting room.”
“I’m still a little surprised, and disappointed, that we didn’t find anything more interesting than Troll Dolls and bobble-heads in the boxes we searched last night,” he admitted.
“So am I,” she frowned slightly. “But, not knowing what we’re looking for, how can we be completely sure we didn’t find it?”
“Good point. It could be a phone number printed on one of the pens. Written backwards, it might be the combination to a lock somewhere. Or an account number, or password.”
“It could be the claim ticket,” Claire pointed out. “We may find more than dry cleaning when we get there tomorrow.”
Alec frowned a little.
“You’re right, that is a possibility. Did you check this place out online?”
“It looks legitimate,” she replied.
“How about Variant Research?”
“It exists, and I’ve got the address. It’s just outside of Ashland. I fell asleep before I could dig deeper than that.”
“We’ll do more digging tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ve ever looked forward to Friday this much,” he said, and she laughed.
“Has your life been severely deprived of excitement up until now?”
“Comparatively speaking,” he smiled.
“I’m looking forward to it too, for the same reason as you. I also have dinner with Mrs. Frederick that evening. I’m so anxious to hear what she has to say.”
“If you don’t get all your questions answered, I’ll give you my grandmother’s number.”
“I’d appreciate that. Especially since she lived next door when I used to visit. She’s already filled in several blanks for me.”
“Then I’ll text it to you…”
Alec’s voice trailed off, and Claire followed his gaze.
Colorful canopies dotted the grassy park up ahead, providing shade for the tables where people worked diligently to display a variety of wares. More canopies and tables were in the process of being set up, amidst cheerful talk and laughter.
“Juniper Springs Arts & Crafts Fair,” Claire read.
“I had no idea this was going on,” Alec said in surprise.
“Not exactly your kind of event?” she smiled.
“No… but, hey. They’ve got funnel cake. I’m coming around,” he declared with enthusiasm. She laughed, and he smiled. “Come on. Let’s get it while it’s hot.”
“What is it, anyway?” she wondered, as he led the way toward the food vendor’s trailer. He looked at her askance.
“Are you kidding?”
“No… what is it?” she asked, returning his look.
“Well, it’s… funnel cake. It’s fried, and covered in powdered sugar, and it’s amazing. It’s carnival food, and it’s about time you tried it.”
The heavenly scent of frying dough was carried across the park by the soft breeze, making Claire’s stomach growl. As she and Alec drew closer, she watched the guy on the other side of the window. He slowly drizzled batter from a funnel into a vat of hot oil. As it sizzled, the tantalizing scent grew stronger.
“Does it taste as good as it smells?” she asked, her mouth watering in anticipation.
“Even better,” Alec declared. He stopped in front of the order window, and the guy slid it open. “Two funnel cakes, please.”
“Coming right up,” the man replied. He rang up their sale, and Alec paid him.
“This was my idea. It’s on me,” Alec said quietly, placing a detaining hand on Claire’s arm as she reached for her purse. She looked up at him uncertainly. She felt conflicted, and thought about insisting on paying for her own. It would be a lot easier to convince herself they were just friends, if she did.
But, Alec already paid, and the funnel cake guy slid two paper plates across the pick-up counter. Each contained a delicious-looking tangle of fried batter, liberally dusted with powdered sugar. Alec thanked the guy, then handed one to Claire and took the other for himself.
“Thank you, this smells amazing,” she said, cautiously pinching off a small piece of the funnel cake. “Mm, it tastes even better!”
“What did I tell you?” Alec smiled, then took a moment to blow on his fingers. “It’s worth a third-degree burn. Or two.”
“That’s taking it to extremes, don’t you think?” Claire laughed, then she too, had to blow on her fingers. It was so good, waiting was next to impossible!
“I’d say we should come back Saturday, if we didn’t both have to work,” he replied.
“I’ll probably be done by one o’clock. How about you?” Claire wondered.
“I have no idea. It all depends on how quickly I can get the work done. It’s a big job. Still… I can take off for lunch,” he said, as Claire gripped his arm hard. “Ow! What?”
“Shhh!” she silenced him, as she came to an abrupt halt. She motioned to the side with her eyes. He looked to the side, she rolled her eyes, and he looked back at her, utterly baffled. She let go of his arm, and tapped her ear.
Alec listened, and the conversation of the two women underneath the nearby canopy began to register.
“…makes no sense at all, and it would seem random if there was only one,” the first woman said.
“All of them though. And in the same night, too,” the second declared, as she straightened the embroidered pillowcases on the table. “Do the police have any idea why someone would do that? Or some group, it had to be more than one person.”
“If they do, they’re not sharing it, of course. I’m not sure how many resources they’re willing to spend on it, either, considering no one was hurt. Just… a lot of second-hand stuff destroyed. Probably most of it junk, anyway.”
Claire caught Alec’s gaze. The excitement in her eyes, was now mirrored in his. She gripped his arm again—lightly, this time—and led the way toward the women and their conversation.
“It’s a terrible shame though, not everyone can afford new,” the second woman pointed out. “Not only that, I believe all of these organizations are charitable. Think of the revenue that could’ve been put to good use through the sale of those things which are now destroyed.”
“It’s awful,” Claire said, joining in the conversation as she studied the embroidered and crocheted merchandise on the table in front of her. “But it sounds like you’re talking about more than the local thrift store.”
“The local thrift store?” the first woman said in surprise.
“Yes, a buddy of mine manages Juniper Creek Thrift,” Alec contributed. “He walked in on Friday morning, and couldn’t believe what happened. We assisted s
ome with the cleanup, and… why anyone would go to that trouble, everyone is wondering.”
“Friday… yes, it was Thursday, during the night, that the second-hand stores in Ashland were broken into!” the first woman exclaimed, her eyes widening.
“My goodness! Do the police know it happened there, as well as here?” the second woman wondered, giving her friend an anxious look.
“I don’t know, but we had no idea this happened in Ashland too,” Claire replied.
“Was it publicized?” Alec asked.
“No, it wasn’t,” the second woman said.
“I don’t suppose it seemed important,” the first woman replied.
“Ashland has bigger things to worry about, I imagine,” Alec conceded.
“Yes, and… no one was bad hurt by it. Not directly,” the first woman said, glancing at her friend.
“Was anything taken, that you know of?” Claire asked.
“I don’t suppose they could tell if anything was, or not,” the first woman pointed out. “What about here?”
“Nothing, as far as the manager knows,” Alec replied.
“Whoever did it, came through and broke most of the merchandise,” Claire added. “Did these people in Ashland target anything specific?”
“They targeted everything worth selling, and then some, is what I heard,” the first woman said.
“Have either of you been by the second-hand stores that were vandalized?” Alec asked.
“No… but a couple of the ladies from our quilting group have,” she answered.
“Were all the second-hand stores broken into?” Claire asked.
“Every one of them, going by what we heard yesterday,” the woman said.
“I just hope they catch these people,” the second woman shuddered. “There are four second-hand stores in Ashland, plus the one here… that means for certain there are five very peculiar and destructive people on the loose. Who knows what they might do next?”
“Anyone who goes around tearing the heads off dolls…” the first woman shivered, as Alec and Claire exchanged a sharp glance.
“Yeah… no kidding,” Alec said. “So… that was awfully strange.”
Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Page 18