Herschel sat perfectly still, aside from his eyes, which followed the stranger in the dark suit.
Agent Slade gingerly stepped around the large gray cat. He reached out and took the clock, then removed an evidence bag from his pocket. He placed the clock inside. Rather than return to his seat, he exchanged a look with Agent Rogers, who also stood, and picked up the banker’s boxes.
“Thank you, Miss Davis, and Mr. Collins. We’ll see that this gets back where it belongs,” Agent Rogers told them.
“That’s it?” Claire asked in surprise.
“If we have further questions, we’ll be in touch,” Agent Slade assured them.
That was not at all what Claire meant!
“Can’t you tell us anything about this?” she wondered. “After all, we know almost everything there is to know. Until we told you, we were the only ones who did.”
The agents glanced at each other, then Agent Rogers smiled slightly.
“What I can tell you, Miss Davis, is that you should consider joining the Bureau.”
And with that, the agents departed.
Claire and Alec watched their car as it drove away, then he carried her back in the house and settled her on the sofa, and her ankle on the coffee table.
“I’d say we gave more than we got,” Claire commented.
“I doubt they say that to just anyone,” Alec replied. Maybe he was prouder of the compliment they gave her, than she was. “It’s amazing how you pieced everything together.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” she pointed out.
“You just about did,” he disagreed.
“It was hard enough for the dry-cleaning lady to believe you were Allen Parker. I never could’ve pulled that off,” she said magnanimously, and he laughed.
“Okay, then I guess Ned is good for something.”
“What would Nancy be, without Ned?” Claire replied.
“Successful,” he responded.
“Maybe,” Claire considered. “She’d also be lonely.”
“Then I’m glad Nancy has Ned,” he replied, and smiled a little. “How about Claire?”
“I’m not lonely at all. But that has nothing to do with Ned.”
“Really. Then what does it have to do with?” he asked, catching the teasing gleam in her eyes.
“You,” she answered, and he smiled.
Chapter 22
Alec parked in front of the door to the sorting room, then hurried around the truck to help Claire.
“I’ve got it,” she assured him, as he held onto her elbow to support some of her weight. In spite of her claim, she winced as her foot touched the ground.
“Take it easy today,” he cautioned, his eyes shadowed with concern. “Do you need a lift?”
“Tammy will send me home, if she sees you carry me in,” she replied.
“Would that be so terrible?” Alec reasoned.
“Yeah, kind of. I need to get back to work,” she said, and took a cautious step. Her studious expression was replaced by relief. “Getting out of the truck was the hard part. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay… good,” he replied, walking beside her slowly as she took her time getting to the door. “I’m a phone call away, if you change your mind.”
“I know. I can’t imagine a better friend,” she said, pausing to hug him briefly before swiping her ID. “I’ll be fine, I’ll sit in a chair and roll from one table to the next if I need a break.”
Alec pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. The sight that met their eyes surprised them.
The tables which were once piled high with a jumble of items, were now neatly organized. The donate shelves were filled, and those which held antiques weren’t far behind.
“Mark,” Claire said in amazement, as he turned around. “How did you manage all this?”
“How are you?” he asked. He eyed her ankle brace in concern.
“Great. How did you manage this?” she exclaimed.
Mark looked around and shrugged a little.
“I guess… I get more work done when I’ve got no one to talk to,” he said, and smiled a little as Claire laughed.
“No one to talk your ear off, you mean,” she replied.
“This is great,” Alec declared, as he looked around. “You can sit and take your time going over the shelves. There’s no need to be on your feet for long.”
“This is wonderful. That’s what I’ll do. You’re amazing, Mark! Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. He watched in sympathy as Alec, her human crutch, assisted her in reaching the wheeled chair that sat ready and waiting for her. She had a seat, and used her uninjured foot to propel herself several inches. She felt satisfied, and so did Alec.
“Can you let me out?” he asked, and Mark nodded.
“I’ll do that.”
“Great,” Alec said. “I’ll see you after work, Claire.”
“See you then,” she smiled.
Mark swiped his ID, and Alec left without setting off the alarm. Mark gave Claire another look of concern as he turned back to the sorting room.
“My ankle barely hurts,” she assured him. “But this is great. If my leg gets tired, I’ll use these paddles and row my way around.”
Mark smiled a little, but the look of concern remained. Claire’s eyebrows knit as she watched him place items from Mr. Edwards’ estate on an empty table. Did his concern have anything to do with her, at all? Or was it something else?
“How’ve you been, Mark?” she asked. He slowly set the armful of books he carried on the table, as he considered how to answer. She frowned a little. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did something happen, while I was gone?”
“Here? No, everything was fine. Juniper Creek Thrift picked up, and so did the antique place. They emptied the shelves of everything you approved before you were injured.”
Claire frowned more, as she tried to figure him out.
“Then what’s going on? Something’s obviously bothering you. If it’s not work… are you still struggling over which choice is least wrong?”
Mark glanced at her briefly.
“Sort of… I guess. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. But I’ve been hoping the subject would come up again. I hate seeing people suffer needlessly.”
“I look like it’s needless?” he smiled briefly.
“Of course. Do you want to talk? I’ll tell you how to solve all your problems.”
Mark rubbed his forehead, as his eyes grew serious.
“I’d like to see that—”
There was a knock at the door to the hall, and Tammy entered.
“Claire! How are you?” she said, giving Claire and her ankle a good look.
“I’m great,” Claire replied, shooting Mark an apologetic glance. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, or relieved, at the interruption. Maybe both. Whichever it was, he returned to what he was doing.
“Should you be back at work yet?” Tammy worried.
“Yes,” Claire replied firmly. “I really should. Otherwise, Mr. Lochlan’s going to decide he doesn’t need me anymore.”
Tammy looked around with satisfaction.
“Mark’s doing a fine job. But, we need you both.”
“And so, it’s high time I was back to work,” Claire said with finality.
Tammy gave her ankle a studious look.
“Alright, but… Mark, you send her home if she overdoes it.”
“Yes ma’am,” Mark replied.
“There’s a delivery on the way,” Tammy informed them, getting back to business. “Sean is on security today. Mark knows who he is. If he isn’t with them, don’t open the door.”
“We won’t,” Claire assured her. “No answering the door, unless the one on the other side is accompanied by security.”
Tammy nodded, apparently satisfied that Claire remembered.
Considering Claire was the one assaulted, both at work and in her home, how could she possibly forget! Not that T
ammy, or anyone besides Alec and the FBI, had any idea the breakin at her home was related to the museum in some way.
Tammy left them to their sorting, and Claire turned back to Mark.
“You were saying?”
Mark considered that as he cleared a table to receive the soon-to-be-delivered donation.
“Tammy told everyone about the breakin at your house, and I read about it in the paper. But… what happened, exactly?”
Claire’s eyebrows knit as she studied Mark. He glanced back at her, then continued clearing the table.
“Change the subject if you want, but we’re coming right back to it,” she informed him. He glanced at her again, and nodded slightly.
“Alright. So, what happened?”
Claire’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then she shrugged.
“I was in my house, upstairs, when I heard the backdoor open. I tried to get my phone, but the intruder got to my room before I could. Then my cat let out a horrible shriek. I was afraid he was hurt, so I ran out of my closet and jumped on the guy. He flung me off, and I grabbed his ankle. He got away, and I tackled him at the head of the stairs. We both fell, and I ended up with all these bruises, and a sprained ankle. I guess he was fine. A little later, I heard him drive away.”
“Did this guy take anything?”
“No. I don’t think so. Not that I can tell.”
“Do the police have any idea what he was after?”
“No… they have no idea.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No.”
“How tall was he? What body type?”
“Maybe a foot shorter than Alec, and a couple of feet wider.”
“But you didn’t see him.”
“No, but I did tackle him. Twice.”
Mark considered that.
“Did he say anything?”
“No. He kind of grunted when he hit the stairs.”
“Hm. I guess he was pretty beat up, too,” Mark frowned, glancing at the bruises on her arms.
“Probably. I can’t say I feel very sorry for him.”
“Neither do I,” he said grimly.
“That’s all I know for sure,” Claire said, omitting the conclusions she and Alec came to. “Now. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
The knock at the door startled them both. She watched as Mark looked at the monitor.
“It’s Sean, and the guys from Juniper Creek Thrift,” he said in surprise.
“I thought we were getting a delivery,” Claire commented.
“So did I,” Mark replied. He swiped his ID and admitted them. Two hours later, the guys closed the back of the Juniper Creek Thrift van, and he closed the sorting room’s rolling door.
Claire’s eyes scanned the empty donate shelves with satisfaction.
“We may get this place cleaned up, after all. As much as you did in the days I was out, and now with these empty shelves…”
“That’s… optimistic,” Mark said, and she turned to see him looking at the monitor. “Our delivery is here.”
“Is there a semi parked outside the door?” she wondered.
“No… but there’s a truck. It’s pulling a trailer.”
“So much for maintaining order,” she said wryly, then she straightened her spine and motioned toward the door imperiously. “Bring it on.”
Mark waited for Sean to knock, and did.
Boxes and bags were carried in, rapidly filling the empty tables and the floor underneath. A dining room set joined the rest of the furniture occupying a portion of the room. The donating couple were in a hurry to unload and be on their way, and they soon were. Mark started to unpack the boxes, but Claire shook her head.
“We’re going to start over there, at the far corner,” she pointed. “I don’t know about the past, but the whole time I’ve been here, the attention has been on the tables nearest the shelves. Who knows what could be hiding on those in the back.”
“If it hides, it lives,” Mark pointed out.
“Bring the flyswatter,” Claire replied, and measured the piles with a look. “And your sword.”
He raised an eyebrow, but did. It was a cool sword.
Claire stood cautiously, and rolled her chair to the other side of the room.
“Should you be walking?” Mark asked in concern.
“I should. I won’t overdo it, but I’ll never make it down the aisle if I wait until then to start.”
“You and Alec are getting married?” Mark asked in mild surprise.
“What? No,” she laughed a little. If only!
Wait, she didn’t say that out loud, did she? Judging by Mark’s neutral expression, probably not. Moving right along.
“Alec’s going with me, but it’s my best-friend who’s getting married. I’m maid of honor. Speaking of which, what’s going on with you?”
“Speaking of which?” Mark asked dryly.
“Not the best segue perhaps, but now that we’re here, talk.”
“Alright… I tried talking to my brother,” he said, frowning.
“I guess it didn’t go well,” Claire prompted, and he shook his head a little.
“No. It didn’t go at all.”
“He wasn’t willing to listen to reason?”
“No. He didn’t want to hear it.”
“He’s still making bad choices?” Claire wondered.
“Yes,” Mark answered, concern shadowing his eyes.
“Like… really bad?” she frowned.
“You could say that,” he replied grimly, as he mechanically sorted through the items on the table in front of him.
“Are his choices hurting just him, or other people, too?”
Mark paused and considered that. It seemed the answer required thought.
“Both.”
“That’s not good,” Claire frowned. “Can he be stopped?”
“Yes,” Mark replied, glancing away as he ran his hands through his hair. He looked agitated… stressed… and desperate.
“Is that your dilemma?” she wondered.
“Yes,” he answered. Now he looked sick. “No matter what I do, someone will end up badly hurt. I don’t see a way out.”
“Is there a victim in this situation?”
“More than one. If I help my brother, other people get hurt. If I don’t, he may die,” he declared, his face paling at the thought.
“Wow. That’s pretty extreme,” she replied, her eyebrows knitting. “Are you sure that’s not an exaggeration?”
“It’s not,” Mark said with certainty.
“Well… what happens if you do nothing?” she wondered.
“Other people get hurt, and he dies. Doing nothing isn’t an option. I know I can’t help him, but if I don’t, what happens to him as a result will be my fault,” Mark said, his eyes filling with desperation.
“If you don’t help him, he dies,” she stated, searching his face. If she had to guess, she’d say he believed it. “I can’t imagine what scenario would result in that. Is he involved in something illegal?”
Mark hesitated, then nodded.
“And he’s trying to get you involved somehow,” she said. Her concern deepened even further at the look of desperation in his eyes. “Mark, you can’t.”
“I know,” he replied. “I know I can’t. So I choose the lesser evil. I guess.”
“Is he reaping the results of his own choices?” she asked.
“He—”
Mark was cut off by a knock at the hallway door.
“Hold that thought,” Claire said firmly. He nodded, then crossed the few feet to open the door.
“Hi!” Gina smiled, her buoyant mood contrasting sharply with the seriousness of Claire and Mark’s conversation.
“Hi,” Claire replied, as naturally as she could. Mark returned to sorting the items on the table.
“How are you?” Gina asked, her buoyancy dropping several notches in response to Claire’s expression. She took in the ankle brace, and Claire’s bruises. “You must stil
l be in a lot of pain.”
“It’s not bad at all,” Claire said. She waved away that assumption, and forced a cheerful expression. “I’m glad to be back.”
“It’s good to have you,” Gina smiled, her mood rising again.
“It’s great to be here,” Claire replied.
“We’re planning another girls’ get-together,” Gina said. “There’s a guys’ get-together too, Mark. Jake’s going to get you the details.”
“Alright, thanks,” he smiled in response, then focused his attention on the mantle clock in his hands. Claire was almost certain it was antique. The sound of its chimes convinced her.
“The girls’ get-together is next Saturday night,” Gina continued, and Claire dragged her thoughts back to the conversation.
“Oh—wait,” Claire remembered. “I won’t be here. My best friend’s wedding is that weekend.”
“Oh,” Gina said flatly, then laughed. “Never mind, then! We’ll move it, maybe to the next weekend.”
“Then there’s a good chance I’ll make it,” Claire replied.
“How about Alec?” Gina wondered. Claire shook her head firmly, and concern filled Gina’s eyes.
“No. Alec may go to the guys’ get-together, but I can guarantee he won’t be at the girls,” Claire replied, and Gina laughed.
“I meant, is he your date to the wedding.”
“Yes, he is,” Claire answered, and Gina looked pleased.
Claire would be pleased too, if the wedding became a turning point for her and Alec.
Gina looked at the wall clock, and her eyes widened.
“I can’t believe how the afternoon has flown! I’ve got to get back to the front, and start closing up. I’ll see you guys later.”
A glance at the clock surprised Claire, also.
“Alec will be here any minute,” she told Mark. “But we’re not through talking… can you stay late?”
“Not today,” Mark said, frowning a little.
“I need to feed Herschel, too,” she considered. “It’s a shame we’ve been interrupted so many times.”
“Yeah… maybe we can talk later.”
“How much later?” Claire wondered.
“Well, like tomorrow,” Mark replied. He looked a little confused.
“Are you busy later this evening?” Claire asked. “We’re as likely to be interrupted at work tomorrow, as we were this afternoon.”
Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Page 38