Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

“Claire! Are you alright?” he asked. He sounded stressed.

  “Yes, I’m fine. The police called you?”

  “Yes! What happened?”

  Claire explained again. She got the same warning, and the promise that if she ever risked her life defending the museum again, he and Mrs. Lochlan would have no choice but to find another sorter. Nothing in the museum was worth more than her life, and she better realize it.

  She felt bad for stressing him out. He and his wife had enough to worry about already. She assured him she’d play it safe from now on, and he calmed significantly.

  They talked about the security guards that would arrive soon, and keep watch the rest of the night. They talked about the security company that would be there the next day, to replace the door and the camera.

  There wasn’t much left to say, so he told her again how glad he and Mrs. Lochlan were that she wasn’t hurt, and they ended their call.

  The police were still busy, so she tried calling Alec. He didn’t answer, probably because he was elbow-deep in grease, or something like that. He’d be mad at her too, for taking such a risk, but she was starting to shake from more than the exertion of mowing the lawn. She needed a friend, so she wrote him a text, telling him it was urgent—then she deleted that, and instead asked him to call, that it was important.

  “Miss Davis, you’re free to go,” she heard Officer Andrews say. She turned, and saw that the security guards had arrived.

  “Okay, thanks,” she replied.

  “If we have any further questions, we’ll contact you,” he said.

  And that was that.

  Claire got back in the Blue Lightning and backed carefully onto the street. She drove away slowly. Not because she was afraid of getting a ticket, and not entirely because her nerves were shot. It was concern for the Blue Lightning that had her creeping along.

  But, her faithful car didn’t seem any the worse for wear after their mad dash across curbs and sidewalks. There were no unpleasant sounds. No thunk of a severed car part falling off, or the grate of one dragging along behind.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, and turned in the direction of the family restaurant, and dinner. Which had to be cold, but… she could reheat it, she did order it, and she was hungry.

  Claire saw the brightly lit restaurant up ahead, and pulled into the parking lot. It, too, was well-lit. This, she appreciated. The building itself, was probably charming. On any other night, she’d likely exclaim over how adorable it was. On any other night—she hoped—she wouldn’t be distracted by thwarting a breakin and almost getting shot.

  But tonight she was, so she wasted no time in climbing the few steps to the door labeled Takeout.

  “Hi,” she said to the guy behind the counter. “I’m so sorry, I’m horribly late. My name’s Claire Davis, there was kind of an emergency, and…”

  “No problem,” the guy smiled. “We’ll get to work on your order and have it out shortly.”

  “Thanks,” she said in relief. She turned, and joined another waiting customer on the benches provided.

  She didn’t mind waiting, she thought, as she glanced around. She’d rather that, than have her food sitting there for two hours, waiting for her.

  As she studied the restaurant’s furnishings and décor, and the people populating the tables, it suddenly registered that Alec was sitting in one of the nearby booths. She was a little surprised to see him, she had no idea he would be here, not that she knew everything about him, obviously. Because if she did, she’d know who the girl was that was sitting across from him. He smiled at something she said, and Claire felt her stomach slowly drop.

  Alec glanced up, and their eyes locked. Claire tried to look away, but she was too stunned to do anything but stare back at him.

  He looked just as shocked as she did. He looked a little sick, and like a deer in the headlights, and what did she know, she was the world’s biggest dunce at reading people. Guy friends, anyway.

  She tore her gaze away from him, and stared at the shoes of the person sitting on the next bench. They had nice shoes. They were such a lovely shade of blue. They looked comfortable. She wondered if they were, and where they got them, and when, and…

  “Claire,” she heard Alec say. She blinked hard, and focused harder on the shoes, as she tried to pull herself together. He sat down beside her.

  “Alec. What a surprise,” she heard herself say. She was impressed, she sounded almost normal. “I met the Coopers, they’re back from visiting their son. They’re the sweetest people, I think I would’ve ruined the mower if it wasn’t for Mr. Coopers’ help. I’m here to pick up an order, I’m starving, it should be done any minute now…”

  She looked toward the order counter desperately. She wondered if she ever felt more uncomfortable in her life.

  “So you did the mowing?” he asked. He sounded suspiciously normal, too.

  “Yes, the lawn looks great. Mr. Cooper gave me pointers on feeding it too, it’ll be as green as everyone else’s before long. I think I’ll replant my grandmother’s flowerbeds, that might be nice…”

  She was all out. She had nothing else.

  “I can help you tomorrow, if you want,” he said.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered,” she swiftly replied. “So… I guess you got done with the car, after all.”

  Claire focused on the blue shoes while he… she had no idea what he was doing.

  “No, I uh… I’m not quite done.”

  “Good luck with that,” she shot out of her seat, as the order-guy appeared behind the counter. She didn’t know if that was her order, and didn’t care. As long as it didn’t have mushrooms.

  “Claire Davis,” the guy read.

  “Thanks!” she said, and practically snatched the bag out of his hand, as she slapped the exact change on the counter.

  “You’re welcome. Have a good night,” the guy smiled.

  “Claire, wait,” Alec said. He sounded a little desperate. Claire looked over her shoulder at the booth, where the girl waited. She was looking over her shoulder at them. And frowning.

  “You should probably get back to your date,” Claire pointed out.

  “I won’t be out late,” he said. He looked apologetic. Almost pleading. Not that she would know. “Maybe we can still watch a movie.”

  Claire had no control over the blistering look she gave him.

  “I’m exhausted. I’ll be asleep by the time you’re through with your date. She looks absolutely livid, by the way. I don’t envy you.”

  Claire turned to leave, and he blocked her.

  “Wait, please! Claire, please, I’ll walk you out. We need to talk.”

  She laughed lightly. My, what an actress she was.

  “Are you serious, Alec? You’re planning to break up with me? That’s kind of hard to do, since we were never going out in the first place.”

  “Claire, don’t—”

  She shoved past him none too gently, and walked out the door and straight to her car.

  He did not follow, which spared him… she wasn’t sure what. One more second though, and her acting skills would’ve crumbled around her.

  Claire let out a deep breath, and focused on the road. On following the speed limit exactly. On coming to a complete stop at each of the stop signs between her and home.

  Home. At last. With a tired sigh, she collected her purse and her hard-earned takeout, and went inside.

  “Hi, Herschel,” she said, as the cat greeted her enthusiastically. She set aside her belongings, and picked him up. His purr was comforting, and she held him for several minutes.

  Then she wiped her eyes, and reached for her phone.

  “Hi, Claire. How are things?” Daphne answered. Several seconds later, she was still waiting for a response. “Claire? Are you there?”

  “I’m here. I’m drawing a blank on how to answer your other question.”

  “Okay… How was work? Did you meet the new guy?”

  “Yes. He seems nice. Very conscie
ntious. He’s really quiet, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  “How’s your mystery?”

  “Crazy. Want to guess which branch of law enforcement is after Allen Parker?”

  “I had no idea any of them were,” Daphne replied in surprise.

  “Same here, but the FBI is looking for him. They want to arrest him.”

  “For what? Are you serious? The FBI?” her friend exclaimed.

  “Yes! For stealing company research, either to benefit another company, or government. I don’t know, but it’s serious stuff. It costs our country hundreds of billions a year. It’s awful.”

  “That’s crazy! Are you serious?”

  “Entirely,” Claire replied. She removed the Styrofoam container from the restaurant bag, and opened it. Savory steam rose into the air, and Claire’s stomach growled again. She carried her meal to the table, and sat down.

  “How did you find this out?” Daphne wondered.

  “An online search turned it up. Allan Parker was fired, and his things thrown out. But, the woman who was supposed to do the throwing, dropped it off at the museum, instead. It had to be afterward, that his boss found out what he’d been doing. Otherwise, he would’ve kept his things, turned him in, and Allen would’ve been arrested. Instead… I have no idea what he’s doing. Either hiding, or the FBI just hasn’t tracked him down yet.”

  “Wow, that is so crazy!”

  “I know. Allen sold things on eBay, then shipped them out along with Variant’s legitimate packages. I’m sure of it.”

  “That explains the dolls, then?”

  “It has to,” Claire replied. She loaded a fork, and began to eat. “Sorry for chewing in your ear. I’m starving. I mowed the lawn, I can’t believe how hard that was. I also stopped a guy from breaking into the museum.”

  “You—what? What did you say?”

  “I’m starving. I mowed the lawn. It was really difficult, and—”

  “Yes, I heard that, you smart aleck,” Daphne retorted. “You stopped some guy from breaking into the museum?”

  “We were on our way to pick up dinner, and saw him by the sorting room door. It’s all dented, and the camera busted. We chased him, and trapped him inside the gated entryway, which isn’t actually gated. But he had a gun, so he got away.”

  “Claire! Are you and Alec alright?”

  Claire considered that.

  “I have no idea how Alec is. But me and the Blue Lightning are. We’re the ones who thwarted the robbery and caught the bad guy. Briefly. Although, that’s not true. The part about thwarting and catching, yes. I don’t know about Alec, though. His girlfriend looked really angry. Cold and seething, anyway. Definitely hostile.”

  “Claire—no,” Daphne said, her heart plummeting. “Are you sure?”

  “She looked ready to skewer both of us. But mostly him.”

  “That’s not what I meant! When did this happen? What happened?”

  “I saw them when I got through thwarting, catching, and being chewed out by two police officers and Mr. Lochlan, for risking my life. Not that I knew the man had a gun! It’s not like I had time to consider all possible scenarios.”

  “You saw them,” Daphne prompted her.

  “When I got to the restaurant, where my takeout wasn’t ready and waiting for me. I saw them. They were having dinner. They looked really happy together. Until he saw me. Then he looked kind of sick. But what do I know.”

  Claire’s throat tightened, and she stopped for breath, a drink of water, and to compose herself.

  “Claire… but… he has a sister, right? Or maybe a cousin?”

  “No. I referred to her as his date. Twice. He didn’t correct me. He did say we needed to talk. I laughed, and said there was no point in breaking up with me, since we never were going out. Then I left.”

  “Oh, Claire…” Daphne said. She sounded near tears.

  Claire suddenly felt very tired. She speared another forkful of food and stuffed it in her mouth. She was hungry, and it was good, and she wasn’t going to starve herself over this, or anything else.

  “Yeah… I know. It happened again. I was so determined it wouldn’t. But I let my guard down. After yesterday, and today—earlier, today—I started to think maybe he liked me. Boy, was I wrong.”

  “Anyone who hasn’t been burned as badly as you, would believe he did,” Daphne snapped. “The things he said, the things he did—what about lunch tomorrow? He asked you out, even!”

  Claire made a face as she chewed, and thought about that.

  “I don’t know. I’m not going, though.”

  “Of course not,” Daphne said heatedly.

  “I’m trying to think back. Did he ever actually say he was single?” Claire wondered, her eyebrows knitting as she considered that. “I don’t think he did. I assumed he was… but I don’t think he actually came out and said it.”

  “Where in the world has this girlfriend been all week?” Daphne wondered indignantly.

  “I don’t know. I guess she doesn’t go to church. She was probably at some modeling thing. Maybe she doesn’t live here, and dropped by for a surprise visit. So why didn’t he tell me? Why let me think he was single? He didn’t mention her, at all.”

  “I can’t even imagine. Are you sure she’s his girlfriend?”

  “They were on a date, whether she is, or isn’t,” Claire replied.

  “Maybe… he already had this planned, and… but why not cancel?”

  Claire almost snorted in response.

  “If you saw her, you’d know why. I wouldn’t kill to look like that, but I might maim.”

  “Don’t you dare go and feel badly about yourself,” Daphne ordered her sternly. “You are not the problem.”

  “Maybe not. But I so often am the one with the problem,” she sighed. “I went against my better judgment in becoming friends with him. I knew I was taking a risk. From now on, no more guy friends. Otherwise, I probably will end up maiming someone.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Daphne asked seriously.

  “First of all… I’m going to act natural. I’m going to act entirely casual. We weren’t dating, so… he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You can’t seriously think that!” Daphne exclaimed.

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m the world’s worst, when it comes to figuring out what a guy’s thinking. I really thought he liked me. I tried hard not to believe it, but I did, and… Besides, what am I going to do? Accuse him of leading me on? I don’t think so! How embarrassing that would be. So, I’m going to act like nothing’s the matter. I am not going to lunch though, and I am distancing myself from this friendship as quickly as I can. Without acting like I like him, and thought he liked me, and led me on, of course.”

  “Of course,” Daphne said wryly. “Ug, Claire. I hate this for you.”

  “Me too. But I’m thankful I found out. It would’ve been worse, the longer I knew him. Or thought I did, anyway.”

  “But he said he’d be your guest to the wedding!” Daphne remembered. “Why on earth would he do that? This doesn’t make sense.”

  “And it’s not going to,” Claire said in resignation. “It never does. Save yourself the trouble, and don’t search for an answer that isn’t there.”

  “You’ve got to be hurting,” Daphne said, her heart breaking for her friend.

  “I’ve been through the grieving process before. Why repeat it? Might as well go straight to acceptance.”

  “I’m so sorry, Claire. I know how badly this must hurt. You don’t have to pretend to be alright. Not with me.”

  “Maybe not,” she sighed. “But I do need to. For myself.”

  “Why?” Daphne asked.

  “I live next door to this guy. I have responsibilities. I can’t afford to fall apart, at all, much less for the foreseeable future. I’d rather keep moving forward. Eventually, this will be behind me.”

  “That sounds great, but I don’t think burying your feelings is going to bring
lasting relief,” Daphne said in concern.

  “I’m not burying them. I’m replacing them with the truth. I was wrong. He doesn’t like me. We weren’t going out. He didn’t do anything wrong. I accept that. I think about something else, the pain goes away, I move forward.”

  “You know that’s not the truth,” Daphne reminded her.

  “Then what is? He has a girlfriend, and led me on intentionally? He met some girl and went out on a date, after leading me to think he liked me? If you heard the things he said, even earlier today—but see, that’s the thing. I don’t want my head running in endless circles, trying to find a way to make a square peg fit in a round hole, without distorting the truth.”

  “So you’re choosing what to believe,” Daphne stated.

  “Yes. I like that option better than the others. It doesn’t leave me looking pitiful. ‘Wow, Claire, I can’t believe you thought I liked you. Who’s the conceited one, now?’ I’m not going there. No way.”

  “Well—what did he say when he saw you? How did he act? You did talk to him. What happened?”

  “He saw me sitting on the bench waiting for my order. He looked sick. I think. I looked away. He came over and sat down.”

  “And then?” Daphne prompted.

  “I don’t know. We kind of talked like everything was normal. I said I mowed the lawn. He said he’d help me tomorrow. I said I didn’t need help. I pointed out that his date looked really mad. My takeout arrived, he said he wouldn’t be out late and maybe we could still watch a movie. I said I was going to bed, he said we needed to talk, I said he couldn’t break up with me, since we weren’t going out. And I left.”

  “He said he wouldn’t be out late, and he wanted to watch movies later?” Daphne asked incredulously.

  “Yes. So… he sees me only as a friend. He wouldn’t say that with his girlfriend ten feet away, otherwise.”

  “But he looked sick,” Daphne pointed out.

  “Probably not to anyone else. I’m a chronic failure at reading guys.”

  Daphne sighed, and both girls were silent. Claire finished eating and tossed the empty container in the trash. She collected a bottle of water from the refrigerator, her laptop from the table, turned off the lights, and followed Herschel up the stairs. She walked through her bedroom and closet, to the sitting room. She set the laptop on the coffee table, and dropped onto the couch. Herschel curled up on her lap. She scratched under his chin, and he purred.