The woman stared uncertainly at the claim ticket in her hand.
“Even a teenage boy couldn’t grow this much in three weeks!” she exclaimed. “And what did you do, lose seventy-five pounds since you dropped off?”
“I suppose some of that got redistributed,” Claire said, feeling his arm again.
“And, I uh… do workout,” Alec volunteered.
“Still…” Claire said studiously. “Maybe the tickets got mixed up. Could these belong to someone else? What’s the name on the account?”
The woman slipped her glasses back on, then reached under the counter and came up with an iPad.
Claire held her breath. Give us the name, just give us the name…
The woman made several selections, then tapped in the number on the ticket.
Her eyebrows knit as she focused on the screen.
“It says here, Allen Parker.”
“Huh,” Alec said, and glanced at Claire.
“You said your name is Ned?” the woman asked, giving him a concerned look.
“Ned Allen Parker,” Claire replied, gripping the hangers tightly, lest Alec should try and deny ownership of name, clothing, or both.
“What were my parents thinking?” Alec said, and shrugged.
“Thanks for your help, we’ll be going then,” Claire announced, gripping Alec’s forearm as she turned. Ready or not, he was coming with her.
“No kidding, I need a whole new wardrobe,” he declared, as she hurried him toward the exit. “No way am I wearing these to work!”
“Have… a nice day,” the woman said slowly, watching in fascination as they went.
“You too,” Alec replied, and they were out the door.
“Here, Ned Allen Parker,” Claire said, handing him the clothing, as they wasted no time getting into his truck.
“Thanks, Nancy,” he replied. He turned and lay the bag across the truck’s backseat. As she reached in her pocket for her phone, she risked giving him a glance. There was laughter in his eyes, but he held it inside.
While Alec started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot, Claire brought up the Safari app and entered the name Allen Parker in the search field.
“That was fun,” Alec smiled, and she smiled back.
“Yeah, it was. And we got a name!” she said, with a thrill of excitement.
“And a business week’s worth of pants and shirts, which, if you take them in severely, you might possibly be able to wear.”
Claire laughed.
“Good idea! I’ll bet I can get ten pencil skirts out of the fabric in those pants.”
“I have no idea what a pencil skirt is, why am I laughing?” he wondered, and she laughed some more.
“Because that was fun, and we got a name!”
“I finally figured out that was what you were after. I’m glad I didn’t blow it,” Alec replied.
“You did great,” Claire complimented him.
“Thanks,” he smiled. Then he looked a little concerned. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Huh?”
“When I hugged you. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest, I felt it.”
“Oh. Huh. Well… wasn’t yours? I mean, seriously, not because we were hugging, how ridiculous would that be? But come on, we’re investigating! We’re playing detective! What’s not to be excited about? And yes. You startled me. Nearly gave me a heart attack. You thought it was fast then, you should feel it now. Or—forget that. Take my word for it. It’s still pounding.”
And it would continue to do so, until they got off this subject.
“Sorry about that, I’ll warn you next time,” he tried not to laugh. “You don’t happen to have an empty jar of jam in your purse, do you?”
“No. It’s not empty. Yet. Want some?”
“No,” he laughed. He pulled into a shopping center, and parked under the shade of a tree. “For the sake of our investigation—and getting back home safely—one of us must remain sane, sensible, and jam-free.”
“That counts me out. I’ll take insane, insensible, and jam-packed.”
“You’re hardly insane. You… are a little nonsensical sometimes, and probably are operating on more sugar than is safe. You’re also more fun to be around than anyone else I know. So what did you find?”
Claire followed his gaze to the phone in her hand.
“Oh. Right. Allen Parker… my first search turned up no obituary. There’d be one online if he died, right?”
“Yes. So he’s not dead, after all. That means he was probably fired,” Alec considered.
“What other options are there?” she wondered. “How else would his office supplies, and his personal collection of Troll dolls and bobble-heads, end up donated?”
“Maybe it dawned on him that isn’t the manliest of collections,” Alec replied. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with it. And don’t even think of offering to store those boxes at my house.”
“Fine,” she laughed. “Okay, so that’s true. Maybe he donated them himself. That is a possibility, now that you mention it. But…”
“The cash, the coffee shop punch card, and—the keys, don’t forget those. Unless he became very confused and dropped off the wrong boxes, he didn’t voluntarily relinquish all that.”
“If he was dating someone he worked with, and made her mad enough, then she might find the opportunity and get rid of his things for spite,” Claire suggested.
“Yes. But would she drive his belongings to Juniper Creek and donate them? For what purpose? To taunt him? Hey, Allen, you know that doll collection you had? Now it belongs to someone else.”
Claire laughed again.
“Maybe. None of that answers the question of what the searchers were looking for, or why they thought they’d find it in Allen Parker’s belongings.”
“It’s quite possible that the person who did the donating had no idea there was something there worth searching for,” Alec pointed out.
“And in that event, Allen Parker was probably fired from his job at Variant Research Laboratories. I found him on LinkedIn. It still shows that he works there, but, maybe he hasn’t updated his profile.”
“Good job, Nancy,” Alec smiled, and gave her a high five. “What’s his job title?”
“Clinical Research Analyst.”
“And… what is that?” he wondered.
“Other than defining each individual word, I have no idea,” she replied. Alec watched as she entered another search. She read for a moment, then attempted to sum it up. “A clinical research analyst works on medical studies. Maybe for a new medication, or something like that. It could be a device, but whatever it is, it involves the human body, medically. The clinical research analyst measures the effectiveness of it, such as in a clinical trial.”
“Then… if something was snuck out of Variant Research in Allen Parker’s belongings, it could be related to some kind of medical research,” Alec realized.
“What else would be in his belongings?” Claire pondered. “It could be unrelated to his job… if so, then what?”
“I don’t know, but if this is about medical research of some kind, that would explain why there’s a concerted effort to retrieve whatever it is that’s being searched for. What if it’s some type of high-tech prosthesis? Not the actual limb, I don’t mean, but maybe a computer chip, the brains of the device, hidden in something.”
“Like that clock radio. And if that’s the case—or if it’s something else to do with medical research, then the loss of whatever it is, could be extremely costly.”
“Or benefit someone else’s research, if they get hold of it,” Alec added.
“Even if we see this chip, assuming that’s what it is, we’ll have no idea,” she considered.
“So what do we do about it, Nancy?”
“Since all we have are theories, and a lot of those are half-baked, then we go to Variant Research Laboratories. We stick with that plan. We’ve got the name Allen Parker. So we go there, and ask to see him.
”
“That’s how we’ll determine whether or not he’s still working at Variant Research,” Alec agreed. “But… what if he is? What then?”
“If he’s there, and they call him up front… we’ll tell him we’re here to deliver his dry cleaning,” Claire replied.
“That’ll work,” Alec laughed. “And if he’s not?”
“Then… we’ll just have to play it by ear. What do you think, Ned? Are you up to it?”
“Absolutely. Or, maybe I should use words like ‘neato,’ and ‘keen.’ If I’m doomed to be Ned, I should probably talk like it.”
“No. Not if you don’t want some seriously funny looks,” she replied, giving him a horrified one.
“What, sort of like the woman at the dry cleaners gave me?” he smiled.
“Yeah, kind of like that! You’re lucky I got you out of there before she had time to ask what weight-loss program you used.”
“On the contrary, I wish she had. I wanted to see what you’d come up with. After all, you’re the brains of this operation. Or the hummingbird. You’re the one hyped up on sugar, anyway.”
“You’re right, it was entirely self-serving, after all,” Claire conceded. “It was the grape coffee diet, by the way, should the subject come up again.”
“Yuck! Would you stop doing that!” he exclaimed. He looked genuinely sick at the thought.
“Sorry,” she said, rubbing his arm lightly. “I can see I’ve gone too far, and there’s no bucket in the truck. That I know of. I’ll stop.”
“Please do,” he couldn’t help laughing a little. “We’ve got a couple of hours until lunch. Maybe by then, my stomach will un-turn.”
“Not another word,” she declared. “About that.”
“Good, because Ned can’t very well protect Nancy if he’s debilitated by thoughts of the unthinkably disgusting.”
“You’re right, and he can’t very well help me go through my grandmother’s garage, either.”
“Is that the plan for this afternoon?” he asked, as he started the truck and pulled out onto the road again.
“Yes. I need to get that done. I can’t believe I’ve been here a week, and I still haven’t.”
“I had fun watching movies with you last night, though,” he replied. “Who knew the Colemans’ DVD collection would contain some of our favorite old movies.”
“That was surprising,” she agreed.
“I’m glad you found them yesterday. I’ve never met anyone—other than my brother, and sister—who likes all the same movies I do.”
“Neither have I. That’s pretty sad, considering I’ve never met your brother and sister.”
“You’ve got me, so I don’t feel too sorry for you,” he smiled.
“Good, because pity is a poor ingredient for friendship,” Claire swiftly replied.
Alec had nothing to say to that, maybe because he was paying attention to the GPS. He followed its directions to the other side of town, and past the city limits.
“According to this, we’re five minutes from our destination,” he said.
“Prepare for action,” she replied, and set her mind to the task at hand.
Chapter 12
“It’s sort of out by itself,” Claire remarked, as Alec turned off the road leading out of town, and onto the one marked by the Variant Research Laboratories sign.
“Two more minutes,” he replied, glancing at the GPS. “Only half a mile to go.”
The road meandered between the pine trees guarding it on each side, preventing anything but a brief view of the way ahead. Then it made a sudden climb, the trees fell away, and Alec slowed as they faced the sky, and what looked like the edge of the earth.
“We’ve found the vanishing point,” Claire said, gripping the armrest. The truck slowed even further, and she watched the edge with concern. “Don’t you want me to get out, and see if there’s a road on the other side of this?”
“What, you think they put a precipice here to separate those with an invitation, and the right address, from those without?”
He looked like something amused him tremendously. Claire, however, did not.
“Yes! And while you may not have any concerns about your truck, considering you own a garage, I have some concern for myself.”
“Maybe it’s time you had some more of that jam,” he smiled.
That forced an indignant laugh out of her, but it was cut short abruptly.
A small, poison-green car, came flying over the edge of the world and landed with a bounce in the other lane. It also borrowed part of their own. Alec slammed on his brakes as the car veered sharply, narrowly avoiding a collision.
He caught a glimpse of it speeding away in his rearview mirror as he turned to look at Claire. Her hands gripped the armrests, and her knuckles were white.
“Are you alright?”
“Fine! For now. Get us out of the line of fire!”
“Good idea,” he replied, and abandoned the brake pedal for the gas. They moved forward swiftly, and crested the steep rise.
Alec glanced at her again.
“If it’s any consolation, we would’ve been fine. Their little not-so- smart car, not so much… but we would’ve been fine.”
“That was too close,” she said, unclenching her fingers. “I hope that’ll teach them to stay in their own lane, from now on! And that’s a good point you bring up. While you replace whatever’s leaking on the Blue Lightning, can you armor-plate it for me, too?”
“If you want to lose your speed and maneuverability. Not to scare you or anything, but if that little vehicle weighed the same as this one, it would’ve hit us.”
“I cannot say that thought comforts me, Alec. Consider me paid back in full, for ruining coffee for you.”
“Sorry,” he smiled.
“I can tell,” she retorted.
The road straightened, and leveled off. In the distance, set against the pines, stood a tan, single-story building. The parking lot, which spanned the side facing them, was sparsely populated by vehicles. Benches dotted the lush grass in front of the building, which faced to the left.
“It’s smaller than I expected,” Claire commented.
“A lot smaller,” Alec replied.
“That’s good, and bad,” she considered. “Good, because anyone we talk to, is more likely to have information. Bad, because they’re more likely to be suspicious and keep that information to themselves.”
“We can do this, Nancy,” he said with confidence.
“Alright then. Let’s go get ’em, Ned Allen—”
“No,” he said firmly, and she laughed.
“Fine. You can be Ned. Just Ned. You have no middle or last name.”
“As long as you’re Nancy,” he replied.
Alec followed the road to the parking lot, and chose one of the many vacant spaces. They looked around curiously, as they walked across the lot toward the building.
The sun was warm, tempering the cool breeze that delighted in using the strands of Claire’s chin length hair to rob her of sight. She tucked it behind her ears repeatedly, wishing she brought a clip or hairband.
“Here,” Alec said, stopping her just short of running into a car. He took her hand and tucked it in his arm. “I’ll be your seeing eye person.”
“Thanks,” she replied. She used her other hand to hold as much hair out of her face as possible, and they continued.
Alec paused as they reached the curb.
“Step up,” he directed.
“You’re very good at this, Ned. Or should I say, Lassie.”
“Only if you want to answer to Timmy,” he replied, and she laughed.
“Maybe I do.”
“Then go right ahead,” he smiled.
They followed the sidewalk down the side of the building, and around to the front. As they approached the front doors, they opened, and several people walked out, chatting cheerfully as they passed by. They were Alec’s age or a little older, but not by much.
“M
ust be break time,” Alec commented quietly, as he opened the door and held it for Claire. She glanced over her shoulder briefly, and he followed her inside.
“Nice lobby,” she said softly.
The generous space was filled with the natural light that poured in unhindered through the large windows that looked out on the plush lawn. Soothing instrumental music played softly in the background, and cat palms created a semblance of privacy for the groups of chairs that spanned the length of the building’s front. On the other side of a large arched doorway, were several tables, chairs, and a group of vending machines.
“Nice, is right,” he agreed quietly. “If clinical trials are done here, I guess it makes sense they’d want to make people feel comfortable. You wouldn’t want someone dropping out over cramped quarters, and hard chairs.”
At one end of the room, in front of the windows that framed a view of the mountains in the distance, stood a counter. Behind the counter sat two women, both in professional attire. The older of the pair focused intently on the monitor in front of her. The younger woman watched expectantly as Alec and Claire approached.
“Good morning,” the young woman smiled. “How can I help you?”
“Hi,” Claire smiled back. “We’re here to see Allen Parker.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, and she froze. The older woman turned slowly, and gave them a piercing look.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“No, but we do have his dry cleaning,” Alec replied.
The older woman seemed surprised. She also relaxed slightly.
“I’m afraid you won’t find Mr. Parker here. He no longer works for Variant Research Laboratories.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Claire said, her forehead furrowing slightly. “Do you happen to know where we can reach him?”
“All we have is this address,” Alec added.
The younger woman looked at the older. The older woman looked grim.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. All I can tell you is that Mr. Parker is no longer employed here.”
Claire started to speak, but Alec squeezed her elbow and she stopped short.
“Thank you for your help,” he said, and started to turn.
Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Page 21