by Tawna Fenske
“Close the door behind you, Marley,” Susan said, turning back to her gun-toting guest. “I’d like you to meet Detective Doug Parker. Mr. Parker, this is our development director, Marley Cartman.”
The man stuck out his hand, and Marley caught a glimpse of the contents of his shoulder holster. A shiver chattered up her spine.
“Detective,” Marley repeated, looking at Susan. “I thought you didn’t want to involve police until we had time to research things internally.”
“Detective Parker is a private investigator, and I’ve asked him to keep things strictly confidential,” Susan said. “Until we know what’s going on, there’s no point in alarming local law enforcement or the media.”
“Or the family,” Marley said, her words more a question than a statement.
“Exactly,” Susan said. “Detective Parker was just getting ready to share any findings he’s encountered since I retained him yesterday.”
“Yes, of course,” Detective Parker said. “Ms. Cartman, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Marley, please.”
“Marley. Yes, well, as I mentioned to Susan, there was a small security breach last night that we believe is unrelated to the investigation, but worth noting nonetheless.”
Marley looked at Susan. She was pretty sure she knew more about the security breach than these two, but she wanted to hear it from the boss.
“Will Barclay was entertaining a donor in the planetarium last night,” Susan said, the emphasis on entertaining a donor making her meaning clear. “Not terribly unusual, though the nature of the entertainment, coupled with the fact that he’s related to Nancy Thomas-Smith, is worth noting.”
Marley swallowed hard, wondering if she should volunteer the fact that she knew damn well what sort of entertaining Will had been doing in the planetarium. She decided to keep her mouth shut and listen. Detective Parker’s eyes were on her face, and Marley fought to keep her expression impassive, wondering if he already knew.
“We checked to be certain Mr. Barclay didn’t have access to the safe,” Detective Parker said. “His passcode wouldn’t work for the administrative offices, so we feel fairly certain he’s not involved.”
“Good,” Marley said. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The detective nodded and continued. “I’ve been conducting background checks on staff and board members as a starting point to the investigation.”
Marley frowned. “Doesn’t everyone already have background checks as part of the hiring process?”
“The checks I’m performing are much more thorough,” he said. “It’s probably unnecessary, but it could be useful in determining if anyone connected to the organization has a history that might be relevant to the investigation.”
“Relevant?” Hearing her own voice, Marley was relieved to realize she’d kept the squeak out of it.
“Theft, fraud, forgery—that sort of thing,” the detective replied. “Like I said, it’s likely not necessary, but we’d like to begin by focusing on the possibility this was an inside job.”
Marley looked at Susan. “Is that what you’re thinking? Someone on staff?”
Susan sighed. “It’s certainly possible, though I can’t for the life of me come up with a motive. It’s not like it would be a simple process to steal and fence more than fifty stone phalluses.”
“An excellent point,” Detective Parker said. “Though you’d be surprised what unscrupulous individuals can get away with. Overseas jobs, underground collectors—there are plenty of people who’ll pay a lot of money to own unique pieces of art.”
Marley nodded numbly, her brain still processing the notion of a thorough background check. “Susan probably already showed you the records of who’s checked out the safe key recently?”
“She did, and while I plan to look into it, I believe it’s highly improbable a thief would sign out a key before stealing artifacts from a locked safe.”
Susan reached across the desk and touched Marley’s hand. “It makes more sense for me to talk directly with staff members who recently signed out the key just to find out if they saw anything or noticed something unusual.”
“Darin Temple?” Marley asked.
Susan nodded. “I spoke with Darin yesterday, but he was accessing a completely different vault. He didn’t go anywhere near our safe.”
“And he didn’t see anything that seemed off?”
Susan shook her head. “I didn’t want to badger him too much and risk raising suspicion, but I didn’t get the sense he had anything to share.”
Marley turned back to the detective. “What about fingerprints?”
“I’m heading in there to dust for them shortly,” Detective Parker said. “Would you mind if I take your prints quickly, just so we can rule out employees who have legal access?”
“Of course,” Marley said, her gut twisting in a giant knot.
The detective smiled and began unpacking tools from a briefcase on the desk in front of him. “Won’t take more than a couple minutes, and then we’ll let you get back to work.” He set a black inkpad next to Susan’s stapler and cleared his throat. “I know we all share the common goal of getting this solved quickly and fairly so we can recover the artifacts without alerting donors or community members. I want you to know I intend to exercise the utmost discretion.”
Marley frowned at the barely-concealed outline of his firearm. “Is the gun really necessary?”
He smiled and patted the outside of his jacket. “I’m licensed to carry a concealed weapon. It’s sometimes necessary in my line of work.”
“Sure,” Marley muttered. “I can see how administrative offices and cages of birds and skunks might require self-defense.”
“The most dangerous places are often the ones you feel safest,” he replied, flipping open the top on an ink pad.
Marley blinked. Don’t I know it.
Susan cleared her throat, looking to bring attention back to the task at hand. “I think the important thing here is that we not panic.”
Marley nodded, trying hard to smile. “Too late for that,” she said as she held out her hand for the detective.
“I spent several hours with Susan last night picking her brain for details on the case,” he said as he began taking her prints. “But I’d like a chance to interview you separately, Marley.”
“Certainly,” she said. “My office is right across the hall.”
“I have to finish up some things here first, but I was thinking maybe lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“Maybe someplace private where I could ask questions, get to know you a little better.”
Marley wasn’t sure they were still talking about the investigation.
He’s attractive. He’s polite. He probably has an average salary.
And Marley knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she went on one more date with one more man who wasn’t what she truly wanted, she was going to go insane.
“You’re free at lunch, aren’t you, Marley?” Susan said. “It might be vital to the investigation.”
Doug smiled at her expectantly, and Marley sighed.
“How about the café here at Cheez Whiz?” she offered.
“Cheez Whiz?”
“The Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary,” Marley said. “It’s still pretty warm outside for September, and there’s a nice bank of quiet tables where no one’s likely to bother us. We can watch the skunks wrestle while we eat lunch.”
“I’ll even lock my gun in the car if it makes you feel better.”
“Perfect,” Susan said and smiled.
Not really, thought Marley, but she refrained from saying so.
Chapter 17
Will offered his arm to Aunt Nancy as they strolled out the front door of the downtown branch of Bank of the Cascades. She ignored it and marched ahead
of him, pushing her way through the heavy glass doors of the lobby.
“Was it really necessary to ask the bank manager what he thinks about when he masturbates?” Will called after her.
“It’s for a legitimate research project,” she huffed, hitching her purse higher on her shoulder.
“You asked him to show you porn videos stored on his iPhone.”
“He didn’t have to do it. Besides, I thanked him politely for being open on a Saturday. That was professional.”
“Good point,” Will said. “So is there anyplace else you need me to chauffer you to while we’re out?”
Nancy hitched her purse again as she marched ahead. “Lunch. And none of that frou-frou crap April’s always making with pomegranate seed au gratin over tender filets of duck and puréed fennel or whatever the hell that is. I want a real meal. A hamburger.”
Will quickened his pace to catch up with her. He knew damn well his aunt’s doctor had put her on a low-cholesterol diet, but far be it from him to remind her. “Pilot Butte Drive-In?” he suggested. “You like their strawberry shakes.”
“I like the burgers better at the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary,” she said, stopping in front of the car and turning to look at him. “Besides, they have those little tater tots in the shape of animals.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he said as he unlocked her door and handed her inside. “Are you sure you’re not just asking to go there so you can stalk the staff and make inappropriate phallic references?”
She reached for her seat belt and yanked it across her ample bosom. “Isn’t that the reason you’d want to go?”
“Probably,” he said, and headed around to the driver’s side.
As he put the car in gear, Nancy began fiddling with parts of the car. She flipped the visor up and down, picked pennies out of the ashtray, and changed the dial on the radio.
“Are you nervous about something, Aunt Nancy?”
She slammed the glove box shut and scowled. “Those figurines are worth a great deal of money.”
“Of course they are,” Will agreed.
“Your uncle—God rest his soul—gave them to me before he passed.”
“God rest his soul,” Will agreed, thinking the request from the Almighty was probably a good idea, considering the circumstances of Uncle Albert’s demise. He’d had a heart attack in a brothel in Thailand, leaving his massive fortune—not to mention the rock cocks—to his grieving widow.
“We’ll have lunch at Cheez Whiz then,” Will said as he turned onto the highway and headed south. “Maybe you’ll be able to talk to someone who can put your mind at ease.”
As he pulled into the parking lot, Will felt a flutter of excitement as he spotted Marley’s car. It was a Saturday, so there was no reason at all she should be at work. The fact that she was made him both excited and suspicious.
“What are you looking for?” Nancy snapped.
“A parking spot.”
“There are three hundred empty ones over there. What else are you looking for?”
“The development director’s car,” Will admitted. “I have a question I need to ask her.”
“Is the question ‘Are you interested in Nyotaimori?’”
“I’m relieved to have no idea what that means.”
“It’s the sexual practice of eating sushi off the body of a nude woman.”
Will shook his head, trying not to picture Marley with a crab roll in her belly button. “Did you miss the part where I said I was relieved not to know what it was?”
“It’s my job to educate you,” she said. “I take that seriously.”
“I kinda wish you wouldn’t,” Will said as he angled his car into the parking spot closest to Marley’s. “Can we please just go inside and have a nice lunch without asking inappropriate sex questions of any patrons or staff?”
Nancy sighed and unhooked her seat belt. “You know, it’s considered unethical to interfere with the research project of a renowned sex therapist.”
“I’ll take my chances with being unethical,” Will said as he flipped the door locks and came around to help Nancy out of the car.
He didn’t give her the option to take his arm this time, instead grabbing hers as he led her up the cobblestone walkway. He pretended to study a sign advertising the new butterfly exhibit, but he knew what he was really scanning for. A glimpse of Marley scurrying down the hall with papers in her arm or laughing with one of the curators or bending down to pet the tortoise in the desert wildlife display or—
“Did you hear a word I just said?” Nancy asked.
“What?”
“I said I’d like to go check to see if the figurines are back from being cleaned.”
Her emphasis on the word made it clear she doubted what Marley had told her.
That makes two of us.
“It’s lunch hour on a Saturday, Aunt Nancy,” Will said. “Why don’t we give everyone a break for now?”
“Hmph,” she said, but allowed Will to pull her in the direction of the café.
The indoor seating area was packed with bookish-looking college students and families with wailing children. Will got in line behind a frazzled-looking mother balancing a toddler on one hip as she recited the menu to a school-aged girl.
“I only eat organic corndogs,” the older child whined.
The toddler screamed and reached for a fistful of ketchup packets from the dispenser.
Will turned to Aunt Nancy. “Let me know what you want, and I’ll order for you so you can go sit down.”
“Cheeseburger with those animal-shaped tater tots and a small garden salad.”
“Coming right up,” Will said as he took a step forward in line. “Pick where you want to sit and I’ll come find you.”
The line moved slowly, and by the time Will ordered their food and walked away with a well-loaded tray, he’d lost sight of Aunt Nancy. He couldn’t find her anywhere in the café, so he pushed through a side door leading to the outdoor patio.
There were only three people seated outside—his aunt, Marley, and a dark-haired stranger sitting a little too close to Marley. Aunt Nancy was chatting animatedly about something, waving a napkin around for emphasis. But Marley looked up as he approached, and Will watched as she fixed her stiff smile in place.
“Will, what a pleasant surprise,” she said as Will reached the table with the tray gripped hard in his hands. “What brings you here?”
“You mean besides a fervent desire to eat tater tots shaped like hedgehogs?”
“Sounds like a good reason to me.”
Still smiling, Marley turned to the man seated beside her. “Will, this is Det—this is my friend Doug Parker. Doug, this is William Barclay and his aunt, Nancy Thomas-Smith.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” the man said, extending his hand as he gave Marley a knowing look.
Will rested his tray on the edge of the table and returned the guy’s handshake. Marley looked down at her cobb salad, suddenly very interested in a slice of hardboiled egg. Will watched her, trying to get a read on the dynamic at play. This wasn’t a date, was it? Hadn’t Marley said she was through with that?
Will broke the handshake and started to pick up his tray. One thing was obvious—Doug and Marley didn’t want company. “Come on, Aunt Nancy. There’s an empty table over there.”
“So Mr. Parker,” Aunt Nancy said, leaning back in her chair with no intention of leaving just yet. “I’m doing a research study on paraphilia. Do you have any stories you’d like to share with me?”
Will gripped the edge of his tray so hard he thought it might snap in two. “Aunt Nancy, I really don’t think—”
“Paraphilia?” Doug asked, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that term.”
“The Diagnostic and Statistical Manu
al of Mental Disorders classifies paraphilia as an Axis II disorder,” Nancy explained. “Paraphilia involves distressing and repetitive sexual fantasies, urges, behaviors, or—”
“That’s enough, Aunt Nancy,” Will said. “I’m having distressing and repetitive urges right now, but they aren’t sexual in nature.”
Not entirely true, he admitted, fighting the urge to look at Marley. Her smile made the very slight shift from plastic to real, and Will felt his heart clench tight in his chest. How was it humanly possible to simultaneously mistrust and desire a woman this much?
Nancy hrmphed and turned to Marley. “So how’s the cleaning coming along with my figurines?”
“Figurines?” Doug asked as he speared a cherry tomato on the edge of his plate.
“I donated some very valuable Native American artifacts to the organization,” Nancy said. “I came by to check on them the other day, but Ms. Cartman here informed me they’re being cleaned.”
“Yes, well, I can imagine cleanliness would be important,” Doug said. “Can you tell me about these artifacts?”
Will loosened his grip on the tray, listening a little more intently to the conversation now.
“They’re ancient Native American artifacts from the Chinook Tribe of the Columbia River Valley,” Aunt Nancy said. “Sexual aids crafted from—”
“I’m sorry, did you say sexual aids?”
“That’s right,” Aunt Nancy replied. “Commonly known as dildos.”
Marley choked on her salad, and Will resisted the urge to whack her on the back.
“I see,” Doug replied, spearing another cherry tomato. “That sounds fascinating. How did you acquire these artifacts?”
“My late husband—God rest his soul—bought them for me as a wedding gift. They’re extremely valuable.”
“I can imagine. I’d love to know more.” Doug chewed his tomato before glancing at Marley. “You were right—this salad is excellent.”
“The dressing is surprisingly good, isn’t it?”