Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “It was, indeed,” the second woman agreed solemnly. “The arms and legs, too.”

  Both women appeared lost in thought as they mechanically straightened their wares.

  Claire glanced at Alec. He didn’t look like he had any further questions.

  “I love your work,” she commented, nodding to the delicate embroidery. “My grandmother sewed, and knitted, and made things like this. I’m hoping I can learn. I doubt I can accomplish anything this lovely, though! It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “Why, thank you,” the second woman beamed. “I imagine you’ll pick it up just fine. It’s not all that hard, you just need good teaching and practice.”

  Both women were a wealth of knowledge, and willing to share. By the time Claire and Alec continued on their way in search of a picnic table on which to have lunch, she was armed with a list of instructional book recommendations, and several websites.

  The park was rapidly filling with vendors of the art, craft, and food variety. Cheery music played in the distance, and visitors meandered from booth to booth.

  Alec led Claire further into the park, past the activities taking place, and through a stand of tall growing trees.

  “I hear water running,” she commented, glancing up at Alec, and he nodded.

  “That’s right. The creek our city is named after runs through the city park. We’re on the outskirts, if you didn’t realize.”

  On the other side of the trees, the ground dipped suddenly, and they came to a stop. At the foot of the grassy bank, water tumbled over the smooth stones lining the creek bottom. Purple and pink wildflowers nodded at the water’s edge, and as Claire watched, she saw a small fish dart past. On the other side of the bank, slender trees grew thick.

  “This is beautiful!” she exclaimed, following Alec to a picnic table. “Is this where you wanted to go next Saturday?”

  “No, that’s even better,” he smiled. “But this is pretty great. And, it’s quiet, since everyone else is at the fair. What in the world are all these people searching for? And I don’t mean the fair-goers.”

  “I have no idea!” Claire said, finishing off her funnel cake before opening her sack lunch. “If there was any question whether we were dealing with one mystery, or two, the fact that these guys had it in for dolls, is enough to convince me our unnamed ex-employee of Variant Research, is indeed part of this.”

  “What about Juniper Creek Thrift, though? Chris said the toys were left alone.”

  “Juniper Creek Thrift had no dolls.”

  “Really? You’re very observant. Not that I would notice that sort of thing… at all. Ever.”

  Claire laughed at that.

  “I’ll overlook your lack of observational skills, Watson. How crazy, and complicated this is turning out to be! There are five searchers, for sure, working in unison.”

  “Who would be behind that? Someone had to organize it,” Alec pointed out.

  “I don’t know. But… this may be a lot more serious than we were assuming.”

  “This may be a lot more dangerous, too,” he replied, his eyes filling with concern. “Whoever’s behind this doesn’t know the museum receives donations. But… that person will almost certainly find out. What then?”

  “Well…” Claire considered, as she pinched off a piece of her sandwich bread and tossed it to a grateful bird. “Whoever gets past security, will take one look at the sorting room… and run.”

  Alec couldn’t help laughing at that, and so did she, but he also shook his head and reclaimed his serious expression.

  “Okay, fine, I have no idea how they’d go about finding what they’re looking for. Unless they brought in a couple of semis, and loaded it all up in one night and took it with them, without getting caught. But… you need to be careful. Do you always check the monitor before answering the door?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied.

  “Okay… good. And the museum does have a security system in place.”

  “Yes, and it’s a lot more advanced than Mrs. Abernathy’s could possibly be,” Claire assured him. “I don’t care who these guys are, or who, or what group, is behind them. I can’t imagine anyone getting in undetected.”

  “Well… be careful, anyway. Especially coming and going.”

  “Okay, I will, but… I’ve been coming and going, with you. Did you forget?”

  “That’s right, you have been. Keep doing that.”

  “Okay,” she laughed. “If you insist.”

  “I do,” he smiled. “It’s for your safety, as well as mine.”

  “Okay… and how, exactly, is riding with me keeping you safe?” she asked, her forehead furrowing.

  “Are you kidding? You’re sparing me from excessive boredom. You have no idea how long and lonely the drive to work used to be.”

  “Yes, I’m sure those three minutes were positively tedious before I joined you,” she smiled, and rolled her eyes.

  “They were,” he replied, and shuddered in mock horror at the memory, causing her to laugh. He smiled, and they both turned their attention to their meals.

  The soft breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees, carrying with it the faint sound of talk, laughter, music, and the scent of funnel cake, corn dogs, hot dogs, and popcorn.

  Birds chirped hopefully in the trees surrounding the picnic table, watching for dropped crumbs. They snatched up the bits of bread almost faster than Claire and Alec could toss them, then flitted away again.

  “I love it here,” she sighed with satisfaction. “And I don’t just mean here by Juniper Creek, I mean the town.”

  “Good,” Alec smiled. “So do I. There’s a lot more to do in Ashland, but… I prefer living here.”

  “That’s right, you used to live there. Are the singles groups as paired-up in Ashland, as they are in Juniper Creek?”

  “The singles groups that I’m aware of… are extremely mature, I guess that’s one way to put it,” he said, then smiled when she bit back a laugh.

  “Are you serious? Even there? Then what do people do who are out of high school, but not yet mature?”

  “They join a campus group. There is a college in Ashland, you know. Or maybe you didn’t.”

  “I had no idea. My research centered on the museum. But, wow. That leaves the immature single people, who aren’t in college, decidedly disenfranchised.”

  “It kind of does. I didn’t stay in the campus group long,” he agreed.

  “Wait—why?” she gave him a sharp look.

  “Are you kidding? It was at least as bad as being the only single person in a group of young marrieds. I didn’t fit in.”

  “That’s terrible,” Claire frowned. “Were they mean?”

  “No, not at all,” he hurried to clarify. “How do I explain this? I guess… I assume you’re not hooked on video games? Either that, or you never sleep.”

  “No, I’m not hooked on video games,” she replied, giving him a puzzled look. “I’ve never played a video game in my life.”

  “Have you ever wanted to?”

  “No…”

  “Even better. Now imagine being in a group of gamers. Or at a gaming convention, or comic-con. How long would it take before you felt out of place?”

  “Point taken,” she said, shuddering a little.

  “It’s not that the group was bad, or the people in it mean or unfriendly. There’s just a commonality that’s lacking, and… now that I’m thinking about it, I guess I did feel there was a stigma associated with not going to college.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said firmly, her eyes snapping, and he couldn’t help laughing. She gave him a puzzled look, her eyebrows still knit. “What?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that… you make me feel good about myself. I guess that’s one reason I like hanging out with you so much. Although, you also keep me humble by creaming me on the court.”

  “I do my best to maintain balance,” she replied loftily, and he laughed again.

  “You do it well,” he smi
led.

  She balanced out the singles group, too, but she wasn’t going to point that out. Nor was she going to suggest joining the singles class, now that there were two of them. Nor was she going to read into the words I like hanging out with you so much. She’d been there, and done that, before.

  “I’m glad you introduced me to the class on Romans,” she changed the subject. “There may not be a true singles group at church, but at least there’s that.”

  “At least there’s that,” he agreed, clinking—or clunking—water bottles with her.

  The lunch hour passed in no time. Scattering the last of the crumbs, and tossing the remains of their meal in the nearby trashcan, they headed back.

  “What’s in my grandparents’ garage, do you know?” Claire wondered, as they exited the park, and stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “I have absolutely no idea. If the garage was ever open when I visited as a kid, I didn’t bother taking inventory. Or looking, at all. As far as I know, in the two years I lived next door to your grandmother, the garage was never opened.”

  “Really?” Claire asked in surprise. “Good grief… I wonder what’s in there?”

  “I have no idea. Do you want help finding out?”

  “Seeking more excitement, are you?” she raised an eyebrow.

  “Whenever the opportunity presents itself,” he promptly replied. “It so seldom does, after all.”

  “Alright. Consider yourself invited,” she said magnanimously. “All I ask is that if there’s anything to be moved, you do the moving.”

  Alec laughed, and glanced at her sideways.

  “Alright… you’ve got a deal.”

  “Wow, you really are hard up,” she said, shaking her head in pity.

  “Like I said, I enjoy being with you,” he smiled.

  “Gina never did tell me when that girls’ get-together is,” Claire frowned studiously.

  She desperately needed to make additional friends! Friends of the girl variety, which wouldn’t leave her hurt and confused, and wondering what was wrong with herself, when she saw them out with the guys they were dating. Although… that wouldn’t leave her hurt, but it probably would leave her wondering, once again, what was wrong with herself.

  She wondered if there were any other chronically single people in the world. They should all get together and form a group.

  And then the rest of the chronically single people would be sure to pair up, because she had that effect on people! Other people.

  “You look depressed,” she heard Alec say, and glanced up at him. His eyes held concern. “Gina will get back to you, I’m sure she will. We can stop by the lobby and ask, but I have a feeling they just haven’t ironed out the details yet.”

  “I look depressed? Really? I wonder why. How strange. Isn’t it funny how we can get lost in thought, and have no idea what our expression is,” Claire replied rapidly.

  “Yes, it is,” he said, and smiled. “Just don’t get so lost, you try running into any more doors.”

  “You have no idea how determined I am, not to,” she responded. She also had a feeling she looked depressed again, and straightened out her expression. “If Juniper Creek Thrift runs out of room, I guess I’ve got four other donation places I can contact.”

  “I guess so,” he said, his countenance still one of concern.

  He was probably wondering what was the matter with her. Well he could just keep wondering!

  “I’ll run it by Mr. Lochlan, of course, but I’ll bet they’re desperate to fill their shelves.”

  “Okay, but if you supply Ashland’s second-hand stores, it’ll increase the chances that this group of doll decapitators will find out the museum accepts donations,” he swiftly pointed out, his concern deepening.

  “Hm. You’ve got a point,” she frowned. “Our donate shelves are empty now, anyway… although they won’t be, by the time the afternoon is over.”

  “You need to be careful about who you open that door to, also,” he persisted. “Don’t open it if you don’t recognize who it is, even if they’ve got a van and tell you they’re there to pick up. Or drop off.”

  “I haven’t been here long enough to recognize much of anyone,” she frowned. “You’re worrying more about this than you should be. ‘Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done.’ That’s Philippians four, verse six. I know these searchers are serious, and they’re skilled. You know the museum has security in place, and I’m not going to do anything stupid. Believe me, I want a run-in with these guys even less than you want me to have one.”

  Alec watched her for a second, then sighed.

  “That’s doubtful. We’re always more concerned for the people we care about, than we are ourselves. Which means I want you running into these guys even less than you want to run into them. But I’ll compromise, and say we’re equal in our desire for you to avoid the collectible killers. And you’re right, I’ve heard Martin talk about the security measures at the museum. As long as you’re careful… and I drop you off and pick you up, it’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, because that’s what Jesus commanded us in John fifteen, to love each other in the same way He loved us, so sure, friends care more about each other than they do themselves, and yes, I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay… because you don’t seem fine,” he said, his eyebrows knitting again. “You seem awfully jumpy. Is everything alright?”

  “You know, I think it’s the jam,” she said, and winced inside as she did so. “Do you think it’s possible that it has alcoholic properties? Not being familiar—at all—with actual alcohol, I don’t know, but I do wonder.”

  Alec gave her a funny look, but he also laughed.

  “I’m beginning to wonder, too. How much jam was on that sandwich?”

  “Enough to make me nervous and talk fast, I guess,” she said. They were almost to the museum, and was she ever glad!

  “Both are more likely to be sugar induced,” he smiled. “Maybe your grandma put extra in that jar.”

  “Yeah, probably,” she laughed along. “Well look at that, here we are. Gotta get back to work. See you later!”

  “Bye, Claire,” he laughed, and with that, she swiped her ID, and vanished inside.

  She leaned against the closed door and ran her fingers through her hair, as she let out a deep breath.

  Then she fished through her purse for her Bluetooth earpiece. She glanced at the clock as she took out her phone and selected Daphne’s number. She might be between classes…

  “Hi Claire,” Daphne answered cheerfully.

  “Hi.”

  “You sound intense. What’s going on?” her friend asked with concern.

  “I like him.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Okay… by ‘him,’ I assume you don’t mean the cat.”

  “No, I like the cat. I love the cat! But I like the neighbor as much as I love the cat, and at this rate, I’m going to end up in the same boat I swore I’d never get back into. I’ve got one leg in!”

  “Well—stop that!”

  “I want to! But how? Do I quit having anything to do with him? How do I explain that? I don’t want to hurt his feelings, he’s so nice, and—how do I hear him say he cares about me, and he likes hanging out with me so much, he said that twice—how do I hear that, and not start believing it means more than it does, when I like him?”

  Claire whimpered as she slid down the door.

  She just as rapidly caught herself, and stood. One look at the floor, made her glad she did. It was filthy!

  “Okay, wait a minute,” Daphne ordered. “He said he cares about you? And he likes hanging out with you? He said that twice? I talked to you just last night! Really late! When did this happen?”

  “During lunch. I just got back.”

  “Well—Claire, why are you so sure he doesn’t like you?”

  “Aurgh! What are you doing?” Claire exclaimed, pacing the floor. Whe
re were her gloves? She had a mountain of… stuff… that needed sorting.

  “Okay, I know, but… why would he say that, if he didn’t? Why would he invite you to lunch, and out for coffee, and lunch on Sunday, if he didn’t?”

  “Lunch was an impromptu ‘oh, hey, we’re both here, it’s lunchtime, we’re both going to eat anyway, so why not sit at the same table while we do.’ Coffee, was ‘everyone else is going, it’s a great chance for you to meet them.’ Lunch on Sunday… I have no idea, he’s probably lonely. It’s not like there’s anyone else to hang out with. Spending next Saturday at Juniper Creek, the actual creek… same thing.”

  “Wait. He asked you to go somewhere with him next Saturday?” Daphne latched onto that.

  “Yes, but… we’re just friends. We get along, and like hanging out, and why is it so hard for me to remember that’s all it is!”

  “Well, why is it so hard to believe it could be more than that?” Daphne frowned. So did Claire.

  “Because Dean said the same things. He did the same things. Remember?”

  “No, and I would, if you told me! He said all that?”

  “Yes. We click, I care about you, I love hanging out with you, there’s no one I’d rather be with. That, Alec hasn’t said, but still. So… yeah.”

  Daphne sighed.

  “Look, Dean… is messed up, okay? But don’t judge everyone else by that cover. I don’t know anything about Alec, other than what you’ve told me. But he sounds nice… so… can you chill? You’re going to Ashland tomorrow, after all. Right? Or what are you going to do, just cancel, and give up on your mystery? Or go without him? If you stop having anything to do with him… he’s going to decide you want nothing to do with him. Is that really what you want?”

  “No. I like hanging out with him. I like him! That’s what makes everything so complicated. But no, I don’t want to hurt his feelings. If I refuse to see him at all, it will. I’ll lose my only real friend here, and… on the infinitesimal chance that he does like me… No, I’m not going to stop having anything to do with him.”

  “Okay, good. Because he does sound nice.”

  “He is,” Claire sighed. “He’s fun to be around, too. And he does like hanging out. He’s going to help me clean out my garage after work.”