Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Read online

  “That’s got to be difficult,” Daphne sympathized. “Especially since you’re spending so much time together. Have you initiated any of that? Other than the wedding? Or is it all him?”

  “Hanging out is his idea,” Claire answered reluctantly. “And you’re right. It is so hard to keep from hoping he likes me, and talking myself into believing he does. But I can’t afford to do that. So… I’m squelching those thoughts when they pop up.”

  “It sounds like you guys are good friends, though,” Daphne commented.

  “I think so,” Claire agreed.

  “Well… in spite of being gun shy, you’re not letting fear rob you of accepting friendship.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a choice on my part,” Claire said ruefully. “It would be really hard not to be friends with him. He said on Monday that he thought we clicked, and we do.”

  “He said that?” Daphne asked in surprise.

  “Yes, I know, he said that. Usually people mean something other than friendship when they use that word. But whatever. I’m trying so hard not to go there. Otherwise, I’ll have to quit hanging out with him. That’ll be hard to do without him wanting to know what’s wrong. As long as there’s still a mystery to solve, anyway. That’s probably why he wants to hang out so much. It’s about that. So I can handle being friends, as long I don’t forget that, and as long as I cultivate some local friends who are girls. Then I won’t lean too hard on this friendship. Gina said the girls in the church’s singles group get together at least once a month, so there’s that.”

  “I’m glad you’re looking to make additional friends, but I don’t think Alec’s just in it for the mystery,” Daphne replied.

  Claire frowned a little, then glanced out the bedroom window, and saw Alec walking across the lawn toward her house.

  “I better go, Alec’s on his way over.”

  “Alright. Later, Claire.”

  “Later, Daphne,” she said in a rush, tapping the screen to end their call as she tossed the phone at the bed. She snatched up her clean clothing and raced to the bathroom, and away from the open window blinds.

  She nearly broke a nail in her haste to change into her clean t-shirt and shorts. She pulled on her canvas sneakers, as she considered sliding down the banister. It would be faster than taking the stairs, after all.

  Especially if she fell over the side.

  She snatched her phone off the bed, and opted for the stairs.

  Claire hit the entryway, skidded into the kitchen, and threw open the backdoor. Alec stood there, his fist poised to knock. He looked a little startled. She pushed open the storm door, and he stepped back to avoid being hit by it.

  “Hi,” she greeted him, and he smiled.

  “You’re prompt.”

  “You noticed,” she pretended to be pleased. “Do I have time to make a phone call?”

  “Sure,” he replied, glancing at his watch, as she held the door open and motioned for him to enter.

  “Good, it won’t take long. I’m calling Mr. Lochlan.”

  “About our mystery?”

  “Partly,” she said. She selected his number from her contacts list.

  “Hi, Claire,” Mr. Lochlan answered. “How are things in the sorting department?”

  “Excellent! Juniper Creek Thrift had some excitement, though.”

  “So I heard.”

  “I can’t help wondering why someone would do that. We’ve—my neighbor, Alec Collins, and I—have done a little investigating, and came up with a theory that seems pretty solid. If we’re right, then whatever this guy is looking for may have been donated to the museum, rather than Juniper Creek Thrift. I’ll go over every single item with a fine-tooth comb if I have to, but it will narrow our search if we can figure out what was donated in the past couple of weeks or so. I’ve got the list of known donors…”

  “I see what you’re getting at,” Mr. Lochlan replied. “I don’t know about last week, you’ll have to ask Tammy. The week before that, a desk chair was left outside the backdoor. I discovered it when I arrived that morning, at about seven-thirty. A couple of banker’s boxes were stacked on the seat. I didn’t look through them, but I know one held some binders and a stapler. There was a mug with pens and pencils, they rattled when I picked them up. That’s… all I remember about it. I set the boxes on one of the tables, and wheeled the chair over by the rest of the furniture.”

  Claire felt a thrill of excitement.

  “Thanks, Mr. Lochlan. I’ll see if I can find that and look it over. On Friday, I went through a bag that turned out to be someone’s trash.”

  “Yes, sorry about that,” he said apologetically. “It happens sometimes.”

  “It’s fine, you and Tammy warned me when I interviewed. But that’s not all it held. I’m sending you a picture of the ring I found. It doesn’t exactly fall into the categories of exhibit, antique, or donate.”

  Claire texted the photo to Mr. Lochlan.

  “How do you like working at the museum?” Mr. Lochlan asked, as he waited to receive it. “You sorted a bag of trash and are still with us. That seems like a good sign.”

  “I love it!” Claire enthused. “I’m getting paid to hunt for buried treasure. What’s not to like?”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. I admit that the rest of us have a tendency to become overwhelmed by the hoarder’s mess under which that treasure is buried.”

  “Well… it doesn’t bother me. I love it.”

  “Excellent. I believe Tammy passed on the information that we’ve got help coming your way.”

  “Mark Reynolds, the archaeology grad student, starting Saturday,” Claire said.

  “Yes, exactly. Tammy’s scheduling interviews with a couple of other applicants. I think you’ll soon realize you need the help, if you haven’t already.”

  “When the truckload from Ashland arrived, I came to that conclusion,” Claire admitted. “When Tammy said truck, I had no idea she meant a semi!”

  “Yes, I imagine that was a shock. If—” Mr. Lochlan stopped abruptly. There was a moment of silence, most likely brought on by the receipt of the photo Claire sent. “You—found this in a bag of trash?”

  “Yes. I have no idea what to do with it now.”

  “Well… there’s quite probably a woman out there lamenting its loss,” Mr. Lochlan thought out loud. “Her fiancé, too. Let Tammy know. It’s a small town, she may already know who it belongs to. If she doesn’t, trust her to find out.”

  “Okay, good. I feel bad for this girl, whoever she is,” Claire said.

  “Along with your previous experience, this is why Mrs. Lochlan and I hired you, Claire. It’s your honesty. A lot of people would convince themselves they were justified in keeping it. Keep up the good work.”

  “Thanks, I will,” Claire smiled.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “No, that’s it for now.”

  “Alright. If you find whatever it is the Juniper Creek Thrift vandal was looking for… you said Alec is helping you?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Good. Be careful, and get the police involved immediately if you uncover something illegal.”

  “I will,” Claire assured him.

  “Alright then. Call again if you have any other questions, or find any more engagement rings.”

  “I will, thanks Mr. Lochlan,” she smiled, and they ended their call.

  Claire put her phone in her pocket. She turned back to Alec, who sat at the kitchen table holding Herschel against his chest with one hand, while he pet him with the other. The cat purred and rubbed his cheek against Alec’s shoulder.

  “Any new leads?” he asked.

  “Yes! I know I need to search for a desk chair, and a couple of banker’s boxes, one of which is filled with office supplies. Those were left outside the backdoor.”

  “Our collectible killer didn’t go after any furniture,” Alec pointed out. “But office supplies… that’s another matter.”

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p; “Precisely! Mr. Lochlan doesn’t know exactly what’s in either box. Or where they came from. We do know they were donated within the two weeks before Juniper Creek Thrift’s collectible and small electronics massacre, and we know the collectible killer either took or took apart pencil holders and electric pencil sharpeners.”

  “And we know the donations made over the past two weeks is what we need to focus on, because the vandal took the handwritten donor names and contact info for that time period, and left the rest,” Alec said.

  “Exactly. What a pity it would be to pass over the desk chair, based on a technicality, when there’s the faint possibility that it holds what he’s searching for. It’s easy enough to turn over that stone. Or chair, rather.”

  “And that’s why you’re Nancy, and I’m not,” Alec replied.

  “I thought it was because I’m a girl, and you’re not,” Claire countered.

  “That too,” he smiled. “Are you ready? If we go early, we may catch a few donors before classes start.”

  Claire collected her purse from the back of the kitchen chair and her bible from the table.

  “I am now.”

  “You know, your grandmother attended the church on Poplar Lane, too. She had a lot of friends. If we don’t see any of them tonight, I’ll introduce you on Sunday.”

  “That’s awesome,” Claire smiled, her eyes lighting at the thought. “I’ve got so many questions. I haven’t had even half of them answered, in spite of what you’ve told me, and then seeing the photos and albums. Although… I haven’t looked through my grandmother’s room either, other than discovering Herschel. I feel like I’d be intruding, I guess.”

  She gave Herschel a pat, then followed Alec outside and locked the door behind them.

  “I can see how you’d feel that way. But, the truth is that you wouldn’t be. Your grandmother left you her property because she wanted you to have it. It’s yours now.”

  “I wish she called me, or wrote me a letter and sent it while she was still alive, instead,” Claire said ruefully. “I’m so grateful for the house and everything, but it’s bittersweet. Why didn’t she try to contact me? The lawyer figured out how to find me… it’s not like it was impossible.”

  “I don’t know,” Alec considered. “Maybe she wasn’t willing to risk rejection.”

  Claire sighed as she thought that over.

  “Maybe she was afraid I was like my mother. Or, my half-sister.”

  “Maybe she was. Maybe she wanted to remember you the way you were when you last visited here. My grandmother said you were very attached to each other. That’s reflected in the pictures we looked at last night.”

  “I wish I remembered,” Claire sighed again. “Considering how warm Marlena is, maybe I can kind of understand how my grandmother might be afraid. I’m wishing right now I still had a reason to hope for the sister relationship I wanted, and thought I would have.”

  “Miracles do happen. And I’m serious,” he replied, as she laughed in response.

  “You’re right, I should be praying about this,” Claire said, abruptly reigning in her amusement. “Thank you, for that reminder. What’s her husband like? You work with him, after all.”

  “He does send a lot of business my way. He’s a decent guy, and honest. We were friends when we were in school, and still are,” he replied. They reached his truck, and he opened the door for her before taking the driver’s side.

  “Maybe lunch, whenever that ends up being, won’t be too horrible,” Claire considered. “Is he always on the phone? Although, that could be a good thing. There’s no chance of awkward silences, and there’s no risk of not getting along, if you’re not getting, in the first place.”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” Alec replied. He backed out of the driveway and followed the road toward Poplar Lane, and the church. “Rick isn’t on the phone when he’s talking to me. Unless, he’s on the phone with me. And, Marlena may be different when he’s around.”

  “Do they go to class on Wednesdays?”

  “I don’t know. They don’t go to mine. There’s a married group, they’re probably involved in it.”

  “So Poplar Lane has a married group, and a paired-up group. Aren’t there enough people to start an unpaired-up singles group?”

  “I realize now, I misspoke before. There is a singles group at church.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she said, catching the gleam in his eyes. “What’s the age range? In the triple digits?”

  “Something like that,” Alec smiled.

  “And so, you go to the class on Romans,” Claire stated.

  “Very good, Nancy,” he replied. “I do have friends in the paired-up group. Depending on the activity planned, I sometimes join them.”

  “It sounds miserable, though,” she declared.

  “Like I said, depending on the activity planned, I sometimes join them. They do plan guy and girl exclusive events at times.”

  “At least there’s that,” she sighed.

  “The paired-up group, which continues to go by the name of singles, meets for coffee every Wednesday after class. Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  Claire grimaced as she thought that over.

  “Sitting at small tables scattered around a coffee shop is about as conducive to getting to know each other as lunch on Monday, with Gina and her fiancé. And that other couple. Whose names I don’t even remember.”

  “You think so?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting.

  “Uh, yeah,” she replied. He shrugged a little.

  “Until we had lunch on Monday, you were convinced I was insufferably conceited.”

  “No, I began to suspect you weren’t conceited before we joined the others. Half of whose names I don’t know.”

  “It wasn’t a total loss, you’ve got to admit. So… would you like to go?”

  “What are you suggesting?” she laughed a little. “Pick a couple, and separate them long enough so we each have someone new to talk to?”

  “No… I thought maybe I could introduce you to everyone, then we’d sit together.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Alec was focused on finding a parking space, and then on fitting his truck into it.

  “Okay, because… otherwise we’d be sitting alone,” she said, watching for his reaction.

  “And how would that make sense?” he agreed. “We’ve known each other three days, if you don’t count last weekend, which doesn’t count much. I’m sure we can think of something new to talk about.”

  “Yeah… Here’s one. I’m anxious to search the sorting room for the banker’s boxes.”

  “The museum isn’t far from the coffee shop,” Alec pointed out. “We can drop by after, if you want. I’ve got a year’s worth of reward points, I always forget to use them. You don’t need to worry about torturing any more pennies. So… what do you say? Coffee first?”

  “Yeah, sure. That’d be great,” she replied to her friend. Not her date. Her friend.

  “Good,” he smiled, then glanced at the middle-aged couple walking by, on their way to the church building. “There are the Colemans. Ready to investigate, Nancy?”

  “Ready,” she replied, and beat him out of the truck. He had to hurry to catch up.

  “Hi Joel, and Rita,” Alec greeted them, and they slowed and glanced over their shoulders as he and Claire fell into step.

  “Hi, Alec,” the guy, Joel, said. He and Rita gave Claire a curious look.

  “This is my friend, Claire Davis, Martha Davis’ granddaughter,” Alec introduced them.

  “How nice to meet you,” Rita smiled, then sympathy shadowed her face. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. Me too,” Claire said ruefully.

  “We all miss her,” Alec said, squeezing Claire’s shoulder in sympathy. “Claire is also the museum’s new sorter.”

  “How interesting,” Rita said, although she didn’t look like she was quite sure what that even was. Neither di
d Joel.

  “I categorize the donations made to the museum,” Claire explained.

  “Oh, how interesting,” Rita said, more genuinely intrigued than confused, now.

  “It really is, and it’s wonderful how many donations the museum receives,” Claire replied. “We’re so thankful for them. I understand you made a recent donation, yourself.”

  “Yes, we’re finally cleaning out,” Rita said, as she and Joel glanced at each other ruefully.

  “I don’t know that anyone cares about CDs anymore, or DVDs, for that matter. But we hated to just throw them away,” he said.

  “All donations are appreciated,” Claire assured the Colemans.

  “The children’s clothing is apt to be more useful,” Rita considered.

  “Children’s clothing is always in demand,” Claire replied. “Thank you, and you’re absolutely correct that anything you donate to the museum is put to better use than if it ended up in a landfill.”

  Unless it was an actual bag of trash. One without a diamond ring hiding inside.

  “It really is,” Alec added. “If any of it falls under the thrift store category, Claire will see that it gets there. It’s a great set-up they have, anything that’s donated is guaranteed to end up where it can do the most good.”

  “That is great,” Joel said, but he looked more curious than impressed. “Kind of strange what happened at Juniper Creek Thrift. Have you heard about that?”

  “Yes, Chris, the manager, is a friend of mine,” Alec replied.

  “Alec and I’ve been trying to figure out what the guy’s motive was,” Claire said.

  “I can’t even imagine,” Rita said disapprovingly, shaking her head a little.

  “Did you come up with any theories?” Joel asked.

  “Maybe he had a hatred for second-hand goods. Or, he might’ve been looking for something that was donated recently,” Alec answered.

  “Like what, I wonder?” Rita questioned.

  “Who knows,” Claire replied. “What about the items you donated to the museum?”

  “They are Juniper Creek Thrift’s greatest supplier, after all,” Alec added.

  The Colemans looked nonplussed.

  “I can’t imagine why anyone would destroy a thrift store in search of old CDs, DVDs, children’s clothing, and an exercise bike,” Joel said, and they both laughed a little at the thought.