Memory Lane

by Vella Munn

  “Because…I’m afraid it’s too late to try to pretend this hasn’t happened, isn’t it? I just hope there’s some way we can keep this from her. You didn’t say anything to her about it, did you?”

  Kim didn’t answer.

  “Kim, your grandmother is a proud woman. I want you to understand that.”

  “I do.” Kim glanced at Mark, took her cue from his nod, and went on. “What does that have to do with the stone?”

  “A great deal, I’m afraid. I hope—I trust this won’t go any further than this room.” Rogan opened his pouch and took out a pinch of tobacco. “Mrs. Revis would like the community to believe she’s comfortable financially. I can understand that. To have people know that her husband was unable to provide for her old age… Well, you can imagine how difficult that would be for her.”

  “I’ve talked to my grandmother about finances. She assures me—”

  “I’m sure she does, Kim. In a moment of weakness, Mrs. Revis confided in me that no one, not even her attorney, knows exactly what she has to operate on. Pride. Your grandmother has a great deal of pride.”

  “What does this have to do with you?” Kim asked.

  “A great deal. A simple explanation for why my wife has the stone from Margaret’s pin in her ring. Kim, the truth is, Margaret was forced to sell it to me. She set great store by it. She had, shall I say, an inflated idea of its value. It had sentimental value to her, but in the original setting, its monetary value was limited… I had the stone turned into a ring for my wife. I didn’t tell your grandmother that. I suppose I should have, but I think you can understand why I didn’t. Even Charmaine doesn’t know the stone’s origin.”

  “No!” Kim took a deep breath.

  “I’m afraid so. Kim, I understand your reluctance to believe me. I’d like to tell you to discuss this with your grandmother, but I promised when I bought the pin that I’d keep Margaret’s confidence.”

  “You really expect us to believe this garbage?”

  Kim was shaken by the anger in Mark. She almost said something herself, but in the end decided to remain silent. Her grandmother wasn’t in the room. She couldn’t be hurt.

  “Call it what you will, Mr. Stockton,” Rogan informed him. With his eyes trained on Mark, Rogan continued loading his pipe. “I’m aware of the deep affection you have for your client, but even you must know she doesn’t tell you everything. She has needs most women her age don’t. She’s seen out in public a great deal. She can’t get by with the same wardrobe year after year. She had a need and a commodity she could sell to meet that need.”

  “My grandmother would never have sold that pin. It meant too much to her.”

  Sadly, Rogan shook his head. “Margaret didn’t get into the specifics of the stone’s origin. That wasn’t my concern. The only thing I was interested in was helping a dear woman out of a financial bind and being able to give my wife a unique gift. I apologize if this has caused you consternation, Kim. I would have given anything to spare both you and your grandmother this.” Rogan turned toward Charles. “I’m surprised that the police have somehow found it necessary to involve themselves.”

  Charles shrugged. “We had certain suspicions.”

  “Which I hope you’ll feel free to tell me about.” Rogan paused and then went on. “I hope this has answered your questions. Certainly it was never my intention to be anything but honest. Considering what has been going on here lately, I can understand your suspicions that the stone came into my hands by a less than, shall we say, ethical route. Believe me, nothing is farther from the truth.”

  Mark muttered something under his breath that Kim couldn’t catch. She’d been warm enough when she came into the room, but she was so cold now that it was almost impossible to concentrate.

  Rogan was still speaking. “I suppose you could go to Mrs. Revis for confirmation, but I’m strongly advising against it. Strongly. Kim, your grandmother was greatly pained to have to sell the jewelry. To question her about it, to bring up the whole issue again, couldn’t we just let things rest?”

  Kim opened her mouth to agree, but she wasn’t given the chance.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Mark challenged. “Sweep everything under the rug and send us all on our way with promises that we won’t say anything to Margaret. Sorry, Rogan, it isn’t going to wash.”

  “What are you going to do?” Kim turned her chilled, aching body toward Mark. “If you’re thinking of questioning my grandmother—Mark, I can’t do that to her. I don’t care— No matter what, I can’t let that happen to her.”

  “Kim? You’re shaking.”

  “Of course I’m shaking,” Kim managed. “I won’t have you put her through hell.”

  “Do you really think I’d do that to her?”

  “I haven’t forgotten what you said to her in the hospital.”

  Mark rose to his feet. He didn’t top until he was standing toe-to-toe with the museum director. “Later, Kim. We’ll talk about it later. Charles and I made a brief stop before we came here, Rogan. A little something we thought we might need. I believe it’s called a search warrant.”

  “A what?” The pipe almost fell from Rogan’s lips. He grabbed it and held it between his fingers. “For what?”

  Mark’s chuckle was without warmth. He’d been steeling himself to feel nothing, but it wasn’t working. He knew Rogan was lying, just as he knew that a great gulf stood between him and Kim. “That’s what a search warrant’s about, Rogan. To find things.”

  “You can’t. You don’t have any proof.”

  “What kind of proof are you talking about?”

  “I’m not. Mr. Stockton, I’ve never in my life been treated this way. Do you honestly believe I’d have anything to do with something illegal?”

  “You. Or someone else who works here. Two points, Rogan. One, the thefts are an inside job. Who’s responsible, we aren’t sure, but that’s what this is all about. Two.” Mark held up two fingers. “We know that certain orders came from someone at the museum today. Orders that came very close to killing Kim.”

  Rogan didn’t immediately respond. Instead he took his suit coat from the rack in the corner of the room. Only when he’d put it on and buttoned the buttons did he turn back toward Mark. “What are you intending to do?”

  “Search. Search every inch of this damn place if that’s what it takes.”

  “Be careful, Stockton. If anything’s damaged—”

  “Trust me.”

  “Trust?” Rogan’s laugh sent a shock wave through Kim’s trembling body. “You come in here with rash statements about an inside job and cryptic comments about some phone call I can’t pretend to understand and then you ask me to trust you?”

  Mark folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. He wasn’t enjoying this. But he hadn’t enjoyed keeping the truth from Kim, either. Sometimes things had to be done. “Rogan, only a fool would think these robberies were anything but an inside job. The casual visitor isn’t going to walk out the door with a rocking chair. Not without one of the employees seeing.”

  “Unless that employee was the thief. An underpaid man with a sick brother draining him.” Rogan turned toward William. “Why don’t you start your search with him?”

  “Because we’re starting it with this room. Let’s just say I’m a long way from buying that story about Margaret’s jewelry.”

  “That’s a damn poor excuse for defaming a man’s character.”

  “I haven’t defamed anything, Rogan. You’re not the only one who works here.”

  Rogan was no longer interested in his appearance. “I was about to point that out. What about Garner? He didn’t believe we should be spending money on a security system. And he’s been anything but cooperative about discussing finances with Kim.”

  “I’ve got no quarrel with that.”

  “What about Anthea if we’re looking to point fingers.” Rogan was calm. If it hadn’t been for the tension in the room, Kim would have thought the conversation was a
bout ordering a meal. “What’s the word, fence? Who but she has a better outlet for fencing stolen goods? Anthea has been talking to my wife. I don’t suppose it’s a secret. Anthea is filing for divorce. There goes the benefit of being married to a wealthy man. If I were you, I’d be taking that search warrant to her shop.”

  “Maybe we will. But since we’re already here, why don’t we start with you?”

  “And why don’t I call my lawyer?”

  “A lawyer?” Kim got out. This wasn’t real. None of this possibly could be.

  “Let him,” Mark told her. “He has every right.”

  Kim sat, shaking and numb, while Mark and Charles went through everything in Rogan’s office. Rogan left to place his call, but returned almost immediately. He stood in a far corner, his face impassive. A couple of times he warned the searchers not to disrupt the order of some files. Once he even assisted the men in opening a drawer. Other than that, he said nothing. And his gaze made Kim feel even more chilled than she had before.

  Finally Kim could no longer stand the tension. She pushed herself to her feet and slipped out of Rogan’s office. She knew Mark was watching her exit, but she didn’t feel up to meeting his eyes. Her intention had been to go into the conference room for a cup of coffee. However, she was stopped by a curious volunteer. Kim spent less than a minute telling the volunteer that she wasn’t at liberty to tell him anything, but in that minute, Kim realized she’d stopped shaking.

  It wasn’t just being out of that tension-filled room. The rest of the museum was several degrees warmer than Rogan’s office.

  Kim stepped back inside. Rogan hadn’t moved. He looked calm, and confident. For a moment she believed his body language; his innocence would be upheld, and Mark and Charles would owe him an apology.

  William touched her elbow. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live. William, is it just me, or are you cold?”

  William frowned. “I haven’t thought about it, but, yeah, I never did like coming in here. Rogan keeps the heat turned down too low.”

  Kim might have believed that to be the explanation, but this was summer. The museum didn’t have air conditioning and depended on several fans to keep the temperature down. It made no sense for Rogan’s office to be cooler than the rest of the building unless—

  Unless.

  “Did you find the blueprints?” Kim asked. She felt calm and excited and a little frightened.

  Mark straightened. He’d seen Kim leave. He hadn’t expected to see her back again. He wasn’t prepared for his own relief at seeing her here. “Blueprints?”

  “I’ve been asking for them since the first day. I was given something that passed as a poor copy, but I never did get the originals.”

  “What are you getting at, Kim?” Charles asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. But I did some work at a small museum in the wine country last summer. They didn’t have air conditioning, either, and yet the old building was always cool. They—” Kim deliberately drew out what she was going to say. Rogan remained impassive. “The building had a full basement. That’s what kept it cool.”

  “This place doesn’t have a basement,” William offered.

  “Maybe not a full one, but what about a partial?” Kim risked a glance at Rogan. He was no longer leaning against the wall.

  “You think so, Kim?”

  Kim nodded at Mark. She wouldn’t think about anything except what she needed to say. “It’s what, at least ten degrees cooler here than the rest of the building.”

  Kim would never forget the smile that Mark let unfold slowly. For the first time today, she sensed something of what they’d shared before. “It would be convenient, wouldn’t it?”

  “There’s no basement.” Rogan was speaking around his pipe. “I would know if there was.”

  “How? There aren’t any blueprints. At least none you want to share with anyone.”

  Rogan’s office had a hardwood floor. With Mark’s help, Charles started moving furniture. William was standing close to Rogan; his eyes never left the director’s face. Rogan watched the action, his teeth digging into the stem of his pipe. “I don’t believe this, Ms. Revis. After what I did for your grandmother…”

  This was an insane dream. In a minute Kim would wake up to discover she’d been watching TV. But the dream didn’t end. Instead Kim watched as heavy shelves and bookcases were shoved first one way and then the other. Rogan’s angry muttering continued. Maybe she was the crazy one. Just because Rogan couldn’t find the original blueprints… Even if they found a basement…

  “Bingo.”

  The trap door was under the protective mat that kept Rogan’s chair from scarring the hardwood. Kim made her way to the middle of the room and stood staring down at the short length of rope that served as the trap door’s hinge. Her eyes met Mark’s in disbelief. “I wasn’t wrong,” she said in awe.

  Rogan left the room. He was followed closely by the security guard. Kim didn’t have time to think about that. She watched as Charles yanked on the rope. The trap door opened easily. Cold, musty air wafted into the room.

  A slender but sturdy ladder led into the dark. With a fascination borne from her earlier plunge into the earth, Kim stood by and watched Mark descend. Light from the lamp Charles was holding made it possible for Mark to see. A few seconds later Mark was standing on ancient cement.

  “It’s pretty big. And cold. Just as cold as the tunnel. I need better light.”

  Charles explained that he had a flashlight in the police car. He hurried out for it. “Either we’re on to something, or we’re going to come out of this looking like fools,” Charles observed when he returned.

  Mark had uncovered a hundred-year-old cellar. And answers. With Charles and Kim squatting over the opening, Mark described everything he found. There was a pile of the packing blankets like those used by moving companies. In one corner of the room, he came across a neatly wrapped box and inside the box, a collection of depression glass. “A rubber mallet, too,” Mark explained. “With a couple of pieces of glass embedded in it. Interesting, wouldn’t you say? I’d imagine someone could take a mallet to a glass case, and it wouldn’t make nearly as much noise as a hammer would. Wait—”

  “What?” Kim asked when Mark didn’t finish.

  “Where’s Rogan?”

  “I don’t know. William’s with him. Give me a minute.” Once again the police chief slipped out of the room. When he returned a minute later, both Rogan and William were with him. By that time Mark had emerged from the basement. Although Rogan was offering no resistance, William kept his fingers locked around the man’s wrist.

  Mark stood, handed Charles the flashlight and bent over to wipe his pant legs. Only then did Charles step toward Rogan and read him his rights. Mark just stared at Rogan. “I’m not saying a word to you, Rogan. And I don’t want you saying anything, either. Let’s get your attorney in here first so there’s no question we did this by the book.”

  Kim had started to tremble again. It wasn’t the cold that affected her so much this time, as the look on Mark’s face. Slowly he turned from Rogan toward her. Slowly he closed the distance separating them. He took her cold hands and wrapped them in his. “There’s more than an underground room down there, Kim. There’s a tunnel.”

  “A tunnel?”

  “I don’t think I’m wrong about this. If you think about it, it’s a pretty straight shot from Rich Gulch Street to the museum. Digging underground, I’m betting it’s no more than five or six hundred yards.”

  Kim’s legs ached, but what she was hearing made it possible for her to dismiss her body. “The tunnel I went into, there was a fork.”

  “Yeah. One fork went toward your grandmother’s house. That’s the one we found the skeleton in. But the other, I’ll bet anything it ends up here.”

  “And Rogan?” Kim closed her eyes. With Mark looking at her, it was almost impossible for her to think; and it was essential that she think. “Rogan was using the tunnel to
carry out artifacts.”

  “Exactly. What about it, Rogan? Are we getting close? Never mind. Get your attorney here first. Because, if Charles agrees with me, I think we have a case for attempted murder.”

  “Murder!” The sharply spoken word forced Kim to open her eyes. The director had lost his calm demeanor. His pipe dangled forgotten from his fingers. He seemed oblivious to William’s restraining hand. “I didn’t…I never…”

  “You didn’t order that gravel truck to try to go around the cave-in instead of taking the safe route on California Street?”

  Rogan clamped his mouth shut. When Kim brought her searching gaze back to Mark, he was ready for her. “I’m not psychic, Kim. I would have never put it together if I hadn’t gotten in touch with the people living in the house where the gravel was being delivered. The truck driver wouldn’t say anything. I figured he had his reasons. Those people, they rented. They’d tried to talk to the property management company they paid their rent to, but the company wasn’t about to authorize a new driveway without consulting the owner. The management company was busy, they said. They’d get back to me. I didn’t wait. I called the title company and got the owner’s name.”

  “Rogan?” Kim barely got the word out. She was grateful for Mark’s supporting hand. Her knees suddenly felt like water. “He’s the owner?”

  “You aren’t going to deny that, are you, Rogan?” Mark questioned.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Stockton.”

  “Don’t I?” Mark shifted so he could place his arm around Kim and pull her against him. “You paid the driver a little extra to make sure he did as he was ordered. That order just happened to include taking a loaded gravel truck around a cave-in, over asphalt that was already undermined. Your driver wasn’t too sure when Kim called him on it, but he called you and you made it worth his while. You almost got away with it.”

  “Why did you want me dead?”