Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “Yes, and thank goodness Juniper Creek Thrift picked up,” she replied, glancing at the donate shelves which were no longer overflowing. She opened the binder and perused the handwritten log of drop-offs. “Let’s… go look this over in the breakroom while we eat. We’ll visit Tammy after that. I’d like to make a copy of this. I’d also like to know what she remembers.”

  “Lead the way,” Alec said.

  To the left of the stairs stood the door leading to Mr. Lochlan’s office, Tammy’s office, the conference room, and employee breakroom. Claire swiped her card, unlocked it, and ushered him through. As she closed the door behind her, she heard soft talk and laughter coming from down the hall. She recognized Tammy’s voice… she might be on the phone.

  “This is it,” Claire said, nodding to the doorway on the left.

  Alec followed her inside and had a seat at the table, while she retrieved her lunch from the refrigerator. She joined him as light footsteps and cheerful humming approached.

  Tammy walked in, coffee mug in hand. At first she looked surprised, then pleased.

  “Hi there, you two,” she smiled.

  “Hi, Tammy,” Claire replied.

  “I had to drop enough hints to crush a village, but finally Claire took pity and invited me to join her for lunch,” Alec added, and Tammy laughed.

  “I’m just here for a refill, then I’ll get out of your way,” she said, reaching for the coffee pot.

  “This breakroom is plenty big enough for the three of us,” Claire replied. “Either join us, or we’ll be joining you in your office soon.”

  “Oh?” Tammy said curiously. She filled her mug, and had a seat. Claire began.

  “The breakin at Juniper Creek Thrift has me intrigued. Alec is going to see if Chris has a list of who donated there in the past couple of weeks. I’m assuming if there is a list, that the museum is on it, is that right?”

  “Yes, there was a pick up by Juniper Creek Thrift a couple of weeks ago,” Tammy replied.

  “How about before that?” Alec asked.

  “Hmmm… after Angela retired, the sorting fell to me. Until Claire got here Sunday, for which I am ever grateful. I didn’t have a whole lot of time for it, so… I’d say the first of last month. I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was the thrift store picked up, either time.”

  “That’s fine, we don’t need to know that,” Claire assured her. “I am curious though, have there been any recent donations to the museum by unknown donors?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Tammy said thoughtfully. “Not that I know of, anyway.”

  “Are you the only one who would know?” Alec asked.

  “Martin—that’s Mr. Lochlan,” she said for Claire’s sake. “He would. If there was anything left by the backdoor and he found it before I did, that is.”

  “I need to call Mr. Lochlan anyway. I’ll ask,” Claire said, remembering the diamond ring hiding on top of the exhibit shelf. “How is Mrs. Lochlan?”

  “Doing well, last I heard,” Tammy answered. “Keep on praying, anyway.”

  “I will,” Claire promised, and tapped the binder. “I need to get copies of some of these pages, if that’s alright.”

  “Come to my office when you’re ready. I’ll show you how to use the copier.”

  “Great,” Claire said with satisfaction.

  “You two must have a theory you’re working on,” Tammy stated, looking at them both curiously.

  “She does,” Alec replied. “She also took pity on my excitement-free existence, and is letting me tag along and observe.”

  “Every Sherlock needs a Watson,” Tammy declared, then she looked concerned. “You be careful. There’s no telling what this fellow’s motive was. What you can be sure of, is that he doesn’t want anyone to find out. Or to figure out who he is.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Claire assured her.

  “Good. You do that,” she said, pointing from one to the other as she raised an eyebrow.

  “We will,” Alec promised, and Tammy looked satisfied. She returned to her office with her coffee, and they directed part of their attention to lunch.

  “We do know what his motive was,” Alec commented. “At least… he had to be looking for something. Nothing else makes sense, especially if this is the same guy who cat-burgled some woman’s collectibles.”

  “He’s looking for something,” Claire said with certainty. “But what, I wonder?”

  “It isn’t drugs,” he pointed out. “I’m no expert, but anything small enough to be hidden inside a collectible or small electronic wouldn’t be worth the number of hours the guy spent searching the thrift store.”

  “Good point, and—good. I’d prefer it be something more benign than that. He probably knows what it is, but he doesn’t know exactly what it’s hidden in. Or where that something is.”

  “So whatever it is, it could still be here in the museum.”

  “Yes. It could. If we can narrow down what it’s hidden inside, then it’ll spare us from having to search every collectible and small electronic with a fine-tooth comb. The guy could be looking for something as insignificant as a small slip of paper, that incidentally holds an account number for some foreign bank. Or it could be a sticker, with a coded message printed on it. We could pass right over it, and never know.”

  “Unless it was stuck to the inside of a collectible or electronic, the guy wouldn’t have to break things to know if it was there or not,” Alec reasoned.

  “Thank you, Watson, for pointing that out. That’s why I keep you around,” Claire replied.

  “You’re welcome, Sherlock,” he smiled, and glanced at the binder that lay open in front of her. “What do your records say? How many donations were made to the museum in the past two weeks?”

  “The Brewsters… Patricks… Yikes. The residents of Primrose Street donated what remained of their three-day, neighborhood garage sale.”

  “We’re going door-to-door then,” Alec deduced.

  “On Primrose Street, anyway,” she agreed.

  “I know the Brewsters and Patricks,” Alec noted. “What else do you have?”

  “Let me count… seven others. Arnold, Phelps, Alice, Reece, Trent, Coleman, Gale. Any of those familiar?” Claire asked.

  “All but Alice and Gale. Are you going to church tomorrow night?”

  “Do they have services, or classes, or what?” Claire wondered.

  “Classes. If you want to come with me, I may be able to introduce you to some of these people.”

  “Sounds great,” she agreed. “What kind of classes do they have? Is there a singles group?”

  “Well… maybe at some point, but now everyone’s mostly paired up.”

  “Oh. That’s awkward,” Claire said, making a face.

  “Yeah, a little bit. You can come with me to the class on Romans, if you’d rather,” Alec offered.

  “I’d rather,” she replied promptly. “How far into it are you?”

  “Not far. Tonight’s the first lesson, we just finished a study on Acts.”

  “What does the singles class study?”

  Alec started to answer, then smiled and shook his head a little as he focused on his meal. Claire laughed.

  “I know exactly what you were going to say. ‘Each other.’”

  “I admit those were the words that involuntarily came to mind, but they’re not very charitable. So I refrained,” he said nobly.

  “That’s very big of you, and don’t worry. I’m not judging. I thought the same thing, after I asked. It’s hard not to be a little jealous. And to wonder, ‘hey, what’s wrong with me?’ when everyone else couples up, and you’re all that’s left.”

  “Should I be wondering?” he asked, trying to keep the laughter out of his eyes. “I admit, I haven’t been. Maybe it’s harder than it looks. Or maybe I’m conceited, after all.”

  Claire laughed then, and so did he. She also wondered how she managed to turn the conversation in this direction. Maybe her grandmother’s jam had al
coholic properties. Was that possible? Before she brought another peanut butter sandwich to work, she was going to Google it, and find out!

  “Well… like I said, I don’t know if you’re conceited or not. I don’t know you well enough to have an opinion.”

  “Still?” he raised an eyebrow. “We had lunch together yesterday, spent the whole evening together, we’re having lunch now… how much more time do you need? Because… your sister did cancel on you.”

  “I don’t need any more time, if that’s what you’re implying,” she replied, waving away that presumed necessity. “I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure, that she is.”

  A smile flashed across Alec’s face at that.

  “I can understand why you would be. That’s not what I meant. Do you want to go to lunch on Sunday? You’re free now. If I haven’t convinced you by then, maybe that’ll do it.”

  She hesitated, so he kept going.

  “You already said yes, before you realized you had plans. But you don’t have plans, so that yes should stand. It does stand. I asked you out, intending to pay, whether you knew it or not. So that stands, too.”

  She stared at him briefly, then turned her attention to the apple in her hand.

  “It doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”

  “You don’t,” he smiled.

  “Then… sure,” she said.

  “Great,” he smiled.

  She glanced at him under her lashes, and wondered what he was thinking.

  She eyed the rest of her sandwich. If she finished it, would she have the courage to ask?

  She sighed and ate her apple instead, then gathered up the remains of her lunch, and tossed it in the nearby trash can.

  “I’m done too,” Alec said, following suit.

  “Then let’s go make some copies, and ask Gina to ask Jake to ask his friend in the police department if Marlena’s unidentified friend is the only one who’s reported missing collectibles.”

  “After you, Sherlock.”

  “I like Nancy, better,” Claire informed him, as she led the way down the hall toward Tammy’s office. “You can be George. It’s either that or Bess, take your pick.”

  “I saw the movie, George is a girl and so is Bess. No thanks,” he replied. “If I can’t be myself, then I’ll be Ned.”

  “If that’s what you want, but… you do know that Ned is Nancy’s boyfriend, right?” she pointed out, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She really, really wondered how he’d respond to that.

  “He’s also her friend, and most importantly, he’s a guy. My decision stands.”

  And now, she had her answer.

  “Then you can be yourself, because Alec is a way better name than Ned,” she replied magnanimously.

  Friends went out together all the time, and it didn’t mean anything more than that. It was no big deal, and she couldn’t afford to forget it. Otherwise, she’d end up in the same miserable boat she was in before.

  “Lost in thought, Claire?” Alec asked, as he caught her by the arm, and stopped her just short of running into Mr. Lochlan’s door.

  “Evidently,” she replied, staring at it in surprise. He laughed a little.

  “For your own sake, you need to watch where you’re going.”

  “Or I’ll end up hurt, and in the last place I ever wanted to be again,” she agreed.

  “You… have a habit of running into closed doors?” Alec asked, giving her a puzzled look as she turned and headed back down the hall.

  “That’s one way to put it,” she laughed ruefully, and said no more.

  Chapter 5

  “There you are,” Tammy greeted Claire and Alec, as they stepped through the doorway of her office. “The copier’s right there.”

  “Thanks,” Claire replied. She lifted the cover and arranged the binder face-down on the glass.

  “Mrs. Smith,” Alec said suddenly, and Tammy looked up. “We heard earlier that a local woman’s house was entered without her knowledge, and a number of collectibles taken. Do you know anything about that?”

  “It’s the strangest thing,” Tammy declared, setting aside her reading glasses. “There’ve been reports in Ashland, too.”

  “Really,” Alec said, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

  “How many reports?” Claire asked.

  “Well… let me think,” Tammy said. She counted silently for a moment. “I’ve heard of four. There could be more, though. The fourth had no idea, until she heard about the others. She took a look around, and realized the cat burglar visited her, too.”

  “It’s only collectibles that are missing?” Alec wondered.

  “There could be all sorts of things missing,” Tammy answered. “This fellow—or it could’ve been a woman, for all anyone knows—didn’t leave any other sign of having been there. I imagine it’ll be a while before they’re sure what all he—or she—got into.”

  “I suppose that would be difficult,” Claire said, sharing a look of suppressed excitement with Alec. Tammy sat up straighter and her eyes lit, as she remembered something else.

  “I can’t imagine how I almost forgot, but Mrs. Abernathy—now she did say her clock radio is missing. Taken right off her nightstand. The poor woman’s afraid to stay alone in the house, after this. And who can blame her!”

  “Mrs. Abernathy goes to the church on Poplar Lane, too,” Alec said for Claire’s benefit.

  “That’s right, she does,” Tammy confirmed.

  “Did any of the victims have home security systems?” he wondered.

  “I know Mrs. Abernathy does,” Tammy said thoughtfully. “I can’t say for certain about the other three.”

  “Unless it was armed twenty-four hours a day, then he might’ve snuck in when it was off,” Claire suggested.

  “Oh, it was on alright,” Tammy replied with certainty. “This person came during the night, while she was asleep, and the alarm on.”

  “And took the clock radio right off her nightstand?” Alec asked in surprise.

  “That’s exactly what happened,” Tammy said solemnly.

  “No wonder the poor woman’s afraid to stay alone!” Claire exclaimed.

  “This guy is a professional,” Alec declared, his forehead furrowing in concern.

  “Or girl,” Tammy reminded him. “No one knows. As many collectibles as have been taken… is that really something a man would want?”

  “I guess it would depend on what he wanted them for,” Claire replied. She gathered her printouts from the tray, and retrieved the binder. “Do you know the names of the other three people whose homes have been de-collectibled? I’d really like to know who they are.”

  “You’re thinking this has something to do with the destruction at Juniper Creek Thrift?” Tammy asked, her eyebrows knitting.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Claire replied.

  “Alright, then. I can write the names down for you,” Tammy offered. Claire held out her printouts, and Tammy jotted the information on the back.

  “Thanks,” Claire said, looking over the names with satisfaction.

  “If you hear anything else, let Claire know,” Alec requested. “Then she can pass it on to me. I’ve got to say, I’m extremely curious.”

  “I’ll do that,” Tammy replied.

  “Thanks, Tammy,” Claire said. “Come on, Alec. Let’s go visit Gina, then I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “See you later, Mrs. Smith,” Alec said, and he followed Claire out of the office and into the hall. “There’s a chance we’ll see Mrs. Abernathy at church on Wednesday.”

  “Excellent!” Claire replied, as he glanced at the other three names on the sheet of paper she held.

  “I know these two… I’ll call, if you want.”

  “Even better,” she declared. “You’re very handy, Watson.”

  “Does that make you Sherlock, now?” he smiled.

  “No. I’m still Nancy,” she replied.

  “How come I’m Watson?” he wondered.
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br />   “Look on the bright side,” she warned him. “I’m not calling you Bess. I could.”

  “Ug,” he grimaced. “If only I was the one with the basketball court. I have nothing to bargain with!”

  “Alright, fine,” she rolled her eyes tolerantly. “No name change, for you. Alec, you shall remain.”

  “I’d say you’re too kind, but I’m not sure that’s true,” he said, and she laughed.

  She led him back through the sorting room and up the stairs to the main part of the museum.

  “I love this place,” Alec said, looking around appreciatively. “The exhibits were great at the old location, but here… in this setting, it’s perfect.”

  “It’s awesome,” Claire agreed, as they walked down the long corridor toward the entrance. “Did you grow up here?”

  “I grew up in Ashland. But since my grandparents lived here, I visited often. From what you said, I guess you moved around a lot.”

  “Yes. Every two or three years.”

  “How long were you in Pine Bluff?”

  “My last three years of high school. I graduated, and moved in with my best friend. She went to college, I worked, my mother moved on, and… I was there about six years, I guess.”

  “How did you end up with a job as buyer for an antique store?” he wondered.

  “I met my future employers at church. She taught the high school girls’ class. They gave me a part-time job, and I loved it. I started tagging along sometimes when she would hunt flea markets. I got good at finding treasures, so… my job responsibilities changed to incorporate that.”

  “That’s great, Claire,” he said. He sounded impressed.

  “Thanks,” she smiled. “I was lucky I found something I loved, that I could make a living at, that didn’t require a degree.”

  “Me too.”

  “I loved working there, but this—I can hardly believe this is where I get to spend my days, now! I visit the exhibits during my breaks.”

  “That’s what I would do, too,” Alec replied. “Maybe I can talk you into giving me the unofficial tour sometime.”

  “Show me what to do with Herschel’s litter box, and you’ve got a deal.”