Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  Claire stared in amazement, as Mark and Alec looked around, both breathing hard, and ready to take on anything else that dared show itself.

  “Are you alright?” they asked at once, and she nodded. Alec glanced at the guy again, his eyes grim, then swiftly crossed the space between himself and Claire, and examined her throat.

  “What in the world happened?” Alec demanded, as he spotted the gun.

  “Don’t touch it, the police’ll want fingerprints—” Mark said, then looked at the unconscious thug, and rethought that. “At least—they’ll have his fingers, but don’t touch it. He’s not getting back up.”

  “Not unless one migraine’s not enough,” Alec said, glaring at the guy. “Claire, are you alright? What happened?”

  “I’m okay,” she answered, her voice raspy. “This guy jumped out at us, and Mark—what are you, Jackie Chan? Or Bruce Lee? I can’t believe what just happened!”

  Mark had his phone in his hand, and 911 on the phone. While he handled that, Alec looked at her throat again, then hugged her. He also turned so he could keep an eye on the guy lying motionless in front of his truck. Claire realized it was still running.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said hoarsely. “I would’ve shot him, if I got a chance… and could figure out how to work the gun. I have no idea.”

  “Then we’re going to change that,” Alec replied firmly. She made a funny sound, and he looked at her anxiously. “Are you… laughing?”

  She nodded.

  “You can’t tease me anymore about trying to pin him to the door with the Blue Lightning.”

  He didn’t laugh, but he did smile a little.

  “I didn’t try to pin him. I didn’t try anything. I did hit him.”

  “Yeah, twice,” she laughed again.

  “I think you’re hysterical,” he smiled, hugging her tighter.

  “Probably,” she said, her voice starting to shake. “I may cry.”

  “It’s fine. You’re a girl. I won’t think less of you.”

  “Good,” she said, as everything that happened, could’ve happened, and how it could’ve ended, came crashing down on her.

  The police arrived and Mark told what he knew, which was pretty much everything. An ambulance arrived, and paramedics examined Claire’s throat. They also loaded the guy on a gurney, loaded it into an ambulance along with two police officers, and took him… probably to a hospital. Claire didn’t know, and didn’t care. Wherever he was going, he would eventually end up in a jailcell. And there, he would stay. The prosecutor would have not only their testimony against him, but the security camera footage.

  “They may discover he’s got warrants out for his arrest already,” Alec pointed out optimistically, as he, Claire, and Mark, sat on a donated couch inside the sorting room, waiting for the all-clear to leave.

  “He probably does,” Mark agreed.

  “Were you on the baseball team in high school?” Claire asked, and both guys looked at her funny. Then Alec laughed a little.

  “No. But he’s lucky we’re not in England.”

  “Why?” Claire wondered.

  “Because if the driver’s side was on the right, he would’ve swung left,” Mark explained.

  “The guy would’ve lost his head,” Alec said grimly.

  “She’s going to start laughing again,” Mark warned, rubbing his forehead.

  “Sorry,” Claire replied, doing her best not to giggle. “It’s been a long day. Or—not really. Those few seconds, or did it take a whole minute? That felt awfully long.”

  “What was that, karate?” Alec wondered. “Or taekwondo?”

  “Mixed martial arts,” Mark answered. “I plan to call Mom when I get home, and thank her for all those lessons she paid for.”

  “That was the biggest shock,” Claire said. “I guess getting attacked was, too. What you did was so cool, though. I forgot everything else for a minute. Or a second. Time kind of froze.”

  “Have you ever used it in actual combat, before?” Alec wondered.

  “Well… not exactly. Unless tournaments count. I haven’t done that in years, though,” Mark said, then gave it more thought. “One, anyway. Grad school has kept me busy.”

  “You should open a dojo,” Alec declared. “When people read about this in the paper tomorrow, they may open one for you.”

  “I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d need it,” Mark admitted.

  “I’ll bet you never thought you’d need the grill on your truck to protect your headlights from the guy you clobbered,” Claire said.

  “It never crossed my mind until now,” Alec acknowledged. “I didn’t think I’d need the wrench for anything other than the plumbing leak at the garage, either.”

  Claire bit back more laughter.

  “I need to get you home,” Alec smiled.

  “We’re neighbors,” Claire explained to Mark, for no reason whatsoever. “We met when I was two, and he was six.”

  “That’s cool,” Mark said. He seemed impressed.

  “He took care of Herschel when my grandmother died, too,” Claire added. Mark gave her a funny look. She took out her phone, and showed him a picture.

  “Hm. That’s… some cat,” he said, staring in fascination.

  “He’s great,” Alec avowed. “Really.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Mark replied, handing the phone back to Claire.

  “How much longer do you think we’ll have to stay?” she wondered, stifling a yawn as she returned it to her pocket.

  As if in answer, a shadow filled the open doorway, and a policeman stepped inside the room. Claire recognized Officer Andrews, the first on the scene when she and the Blue Lightning tried their hand at capturing the guy trying to breakin and enter.

  “I was an innocent bystander,” she declared.

  “So I hear,” Officer Andrews declared. The glance he gave Mark was filled with curiosity and respect.

  “It’s good to see you, James,” Alec greeted the officer.

  “Alec, how are you?” Officer Andrews replied.

  “Great,” Alec said. “It’s been a long evening, though. Any idea how much longer it’ll be?”

  “You’re free to go,” Officer Andrews answered. “We’ve got what we need. If we think of anything, we’ll let you know.”

  “Good,” Claire said in relief. “Thank you!”

  Without much further ado, they said goodbye to the officers, the newly stationed security guards, and Mark, then Alec drove Claire home.

  The stars, moon, streetlamps, and the truck’s headlights, lit the night. Crickets chirped peacefully, and a cool breeze flowed in through the open passenger side window. It cooled Claire’s cheeks, but burned her throat. She touched it gingerly, and winced.

  “How is it?” Alec asked solicitously.

  “It could be a whole lot worse,” she said, shuddering a little. “It feels sort of like a rug burn.”

  “It probably is,” he sympathized.

  “But you and Mark got the guy,” she pointed out. “We don’t have him to worry about anymore.”

  “True. It’s possible the police will figure out who he’s working for. We’ll call the FBI again, if we don’t hear from them soon. They may have no idea this guy is involved, otherwise.”

  “They don’t know the museum is involved, either. Or Juniper Creek Thrift. Otherwise, they would’ve contacted both,” she reasoned.

  “What do you suppose they have no idea the clock was donated, rather than thrown away?” Alec wondered.

  “As of Friday, they hadn’t interviewed any of the employees we talked to,” she pointed out. “Sue, the receptionist, told Allen Parker’s family that his things were donated. If the FBI asked, would she say the same thing?”

  “She might be afraid, since she didn’t do exactly as Allen’s supervisor told her to do,” he considered. “The FBI may be searching a landfill. If they’re searching at all.”

  “They’ll save themselves a lot of trou
ble if they’ll call me back,” she declared.

  “Us too, I’m afraid,” Alec said, his forehead furrowing with concern. He pulled into his driveway, and parked.

  “Probably,” Claire acknowledged, as they got out of the truck and walked to her house. “But you and Mark got the guy. Remember? He won’t be back. After the way you guys demolished him, he wouldn’t come back even if he was able.”

  “I’m thankful I got there in time to help,” he replied. “My ego would be badly bruised, if Mark saved you all by himself. I’d be afraid you’d decide you’d rather be with him.”

  “Fine. You’ve convinced me,” she said in defeat. He gave her a funny look as she unlocked her door, then followed her inside.

  “Of what?” he asked warily.

  “You aren’t in the least bit conceited,” she replied.

  Herschel came running. It was not his practice to do so, but he was hungry, and Claire was late, and he was not happy about either of those things.

  Alec scooped up the big cat, who seemed intent on tripping Claire instead of allowing her to retrieve his evening meal.

  “Poor guy, what did you think, we forgot all about you?”

  “Poor Herschel, we could never forget you,” Claire crooned, petting him briefly, before Alec set him in front of his dinner.

  Yes, this Herschel knew. Who could possibly forget him? They did, however, seem capable of forgetting to feed him.

  Rather than ponder that item of concern, Herschel set his attention to demolishing the food on his plate.

  Claire surprised Alec by hugging him.

  “You’re not the least bit conceited,” she told him, picking up their conversation where she left off. “Otherwise, you’d think it utterly ridiculous that I might prefer any other guy. But it is utterly ridiculous.”

  “Keep talking,” he smiled, and she laughed.

  “As you’ve said yourself, we click. That isn’t true of just anyone, no matter what superhuman feats they accomplish. And I know where I stand with you, and that’s important. I know I’m not spending time on a relationship that will suddenly end, because you’re engaged to someone else.”

  “I promise you that,” he replied. “So… how am I doing? Have I gained back some of the points I lost?”

  “And then some,” she answered, and he smiled.

  Chapter 19

  Claire and Mark stood eyeing the sarcophagus.

  “Oh, come on,” she chided. “You took on a guy twice your size just yesterday. A guy with a gun. And you don’t want to open it?”

  “That looks like an airtight seal,” Mark pointed out apprehensively. “How much do you know about this Mr. Edwards?”

  Claire shook her head sadly.

  “You’re as bad as Alec. But you’re also in grad school, studying archaeology! This ought to be right up your alley.”

  “This is a reproduction, so no,” Mark disagreed.

  Claire moved forward and rocked the sarcophagus slightly. Something thudded back and forth inside.

  “It could be a pet dog,” Mark pointed out. Claire gave him an appalled look, and he added to that. “Maybe this was his way of keeping it around after it died. It’s better than turning to taxidermy, like some people do.”

  “I am officially creeped out,” Claire said, as she turned and left the sarcophagus behind. “I’ve reached my quota for the day.”

  “Okay, well… It could be the ashes of all his deceased ancestors, in their respective urns. Open that up, in that position, they’ll fall out, shatter, and coat everything in the sorting room. Apply that possibility to tomorrow’s quota.”

  “Stop! I’ll get Alec to do it. Somehow,” she replied, and Mark looked satisfied.

  There was a knock at the door to the parking lot, and Claire tensed for a moment.

  Mark picked up what looked like a samurai sword. It was dull, but no one facing it was likely to stick around long enough to find that out.

  “It’s probably perfectly legitimate,” Claire reasoned, as he followed her. “Even though it’s not lunchtime yet, and no one’s scheduled to come…”

  Mark said nothing, but he did stand to the side of the door as Claire checked the monitor.

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise, then lowered speculatively.

  “What?” Mark wondered.

  “It’s, uh… my sister,” she replied.

  “Your sister?” he asked, looking curiously from Claire to the monitor. “So…”

  “You can stand down,” Claire replied.

  Mark took her word for it and lay aside his sword, then returned to what he was doing before Claire tried to goad him into opening the sarcophagus.

  Claire swiped her ID, and opened the door.

  “Claire,” Marlena said in a rush. She flung her arms around her younger half-sister, completely astonishing her.

  “Marlena, what—” she managed to say, as Marlena held her back and gave her a good look. She exclaimed under her breath at the sight of Claire’s neck, and the abrasions and bruises that were clearly visible.

  “I can’t—I can’t believe what happened,” Marlena exclaimed, hugging her again. “Are you alright?”

  “I, uh—a little stunned, but—yeah, I guess,” Claire replied, feeling utterly bewildered.

  “Thank goodness,” Marlena said in relief. She took a deep breath and brushed her blond hair over her shoulder, as she looked around. “What on earth happened? I saw it in the paper, but…”

  “Come inside,” Claire said, moving her sister and herself out of the doorway. “We don’t like to leave this standing open.”

  “Was it as bad as it sounded? Of course it was,” Marlena said, with an apprehensive glance at Claire’s throat.

  “It was very bad. If it wasn’t for Mark and Alec, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “And Mark works here?” Marlena wondered, giving his back a searching look. He kept his attention on his job, giving them the illusion of privacy.

  “Yes, this is Mark,” Claire answered, so he turned to look at them. “Mark, this is my sister. Marlena.”

  “Thank goodness you were here,” Marlena gushed. She looked ready to cry. “I just—I don’t even know what to say…”

  Mark glanced at Claire uncertainly.

  “Hi, it’s, uh… nice to meet you,” he replied.

  “Come on,” Claire said, putting her arm around her sister. “We can talk in the breakroom.”

  She shrugged a shoulder at Mark, and guided Marlena down the path of empty floor space to the hallway door. She opened the door, heard laughter and the chatter of several voices coming from the breakroom, and changed her mind.

  “On second thought, we’ll talk here…”

  She’d rather Mark be the one listening in on this conversation, whatever it proved to consist of, than the rest of the museum employees. Claire made a U-turn, and proceeded to the couch where she, Alec, and Mark, sat the night before. She and Marlena both had a seat.

  “So… what’s going on?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t know where to start,” Marlena said helplessly, fiddling absentmindedly with the bracelet she wore.

  “Okay… how about you start with why you’re here?” Claire suggested. Marlena shot her an exasperated look.

  “How can you be so blasé?” she accused. “You could’ve been killed!”

  Claire frowned a little.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I did cry last night,” Claire remembered.

  Marlena groaned and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “If you died—doesn’t it bother you at all, Claire, the thought of dying without ever even knowing each other?”

  “Well… I never got to know our dad. Or our grandparents. I’m kind of used to it, I guess, but the thought of being choked to death did bother me. A lot.”

  Marlena groaned again, and crossed her arms.

  “Insufferable. That’s just what Mindy said, you think you want a little sister, Marlena, well let me tell you—”

 
“Wait,” Claire interrupted abruptly. “You want a little sister?”

  “Of course I do,” Marlena snapped.

  “Okay… then why…”

  “I don’t know!” her older sister exclaimed. “I don’t know, I suppose I was afraid. Who knew what you might be like, you could’ve been an absolute embarrassment.”

  Claire choked back a laugh.

  “Is that it?” she inquired. “Because… if the failure to wear gold and high heels, and have friends named Mindy equates embarrassing, then… guilty.”

  Marlena rolled her eyes and brushed that aside.

  “Nevertheless, I was apprehensive. And… I suppose I was resentful.”

  Claire tried unsuccessfully to make sense out of that.

  “Why? Because our grandmother left me the house?”

  “Of course not,” Marlena denied. “I suppose I resented it that you had our father the last three years of his life, and I didn’t.”

  Claire took a moment to think, before responding.

  “I barely remember our dad,” she said gently. “Do you have memories?”

  “Yes,” Marlena said with difficulty.

  “You have more than I do. Even now,” Claire pointed out. “If it wasn’t for our grandmother’s photo albums, I wouldn’t even know what he looked like.”

  “Albums?” Marlena looked at her sharply.

  “Yes. Do you have any?”

  “No,” Marlena replied, her eyes filling with annoyance. “My mother made certain of it.”

  “So did mine. I think they’ll mean as much to you, as they do me,” Claire said. “They go back a long time before either of us were born. Some of them are of you and Dad. Before your mother left him.”

  “I’d like to see them,” Marlena said with longing.

  “Then do. You can come over after work, or whenever.”

  “I’d like that. And I’m so glad you weren’t hurt worse, Claire. I feel just sick over it! What almost happened to you, and for being so… I don’t know why it took almost losing you, to snap me out of it.”