“More importantly, did Mrs. Edwards mysteriously disappear,” Alec wondered.
“She could be late for more than dinner,” Mark added.
“She could be the late Mrs. Edwards. Not that anyone would know, since she was never found,” Alec pointed out.
Claire’s lip twitched as she gave them both a hard look.
“Okay, first of all… you went after a guy almost twice your size, who had a gun,” she pointed at Mark, then turned to Alec. “He was bigger than you, too. You hit him with your truck, then got out and hit him with a wrench. What if that just made him mad? But you guys weren’t afraid at all.”
Alec and Mark looked at each other.
“It was a matter of life and death,” Mark pointed out.
“This isn’t,” Alec made sure to clarify. “If you were stuck inside, yes. But this… no.”
“Curiosity never actually killed anyone,” Mark informed her.
“The pursuit of satisfying curiosity, that’s another matter,” Alec added.
“And yet you stand there, and expect me to open this?” she gave Alec an injured look, but he smiled.
“Not at all. I expect you to ask Joe to do it.”
“Joe refused,” she said, waving away that suggestion.
“So do I,” Alec and Mark said in unison. Claire frowned and looked from one to the other. Her eyes settled on Alec.
“Please? I’ve tried to open it, and I can’t. I’m not strong enough,” she pleaded, then looked sternly at Mark. “I order you to help.”
Mark groaned and rolled his eyes. Alec’s eyebrows knit as he studied her, then he gave a sigh of resignation.
“I thought you said you only use those eyes for good,” Alec grumbled, and she smiled. He gave the object in question another look. “Alright, so… this thing is heavy. If it falls on someone, it’s going to do damage. One of us has to stand behind and hold on while it’s opened.”
“I volunteer,” Mark swiftly replied, and took his place behind the life-size sarcophagus.
Alec rolled his eyes a little, then moved forward. He examined the edges carefully.
“How does this thing open?” he wondered.
“Pull, I guess,” Mark suggested. He gripped the sides and held on.
“Here goes… I have no idea what,” Alec said.
He worked to loosen one side of the lid, then the other. With a pop, it fell outward abruptly. Claire gasped and leaped forward, as Alec braced himself to prevent it from crashing to the ground.
“Don’t drop it!” she cautioned.
“You have an alternative?” he asked, his voice strained.
Claire raced to grab a recently donated area rug, and dragged it over. She spread out the unruly thing, then joined Alec in holding the cover steady. It was heavy, but they clumsily managed to rest it on its edge, then lay it down. She breathed a sigh of relief. The beautifully decorated cover was safe from being scratched. Or dropped on its face, and its beard snapped off. Or its nose smooshed in.
She and Alec stood, breathing hard, and looked back at the sarcophagus. Claire’s eyes widened, and she shrieked.
Mark was startled, and flinched.
The contents of the sarcophagus shifted, and fell forward.
Claire screamed.
“Whoa! What—” Alec exclaimed, as he was hit in the chest with a death mask, rapidly followed by a mummy. He bit back a yell, held onto the mask, and used it to fling the mummy to one side. Mark rounded the back of the sarcophagus just in time to catch it. The way he yelled and hurled it to the floor, indicated he was not expecting that.
“What—What—” Alec exclaimed. He realized he still had the heavy death mask in his hands, and hurriedly rid himself of it.
“Oh my goodness! Did he have a wife?” Claire gasped, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide.
“Why else would he have this thing in his house?” Alec exclaimed, staring in horror at the linen wrapped figure.
“I can’t believe I was right,” Mark said faintly, gripping his head between his hands.
“Someone—someone’s got to go examine it,” Claire declared.
“Don’t look at me,” Alec replied firmly, taking another step back. “I’ve had one too many close encounters already, today.”
Claire looked at Mark, then insistently motioned toward the body. He looked back at her incredulously. And as if he was ready to declare mutiny.
“Why isn’t this your job?” he demanded to know. “You’re in charge! You’re the one who decides what shelf to put things on.”
“You’re the archaeologist, Mark,” she pointed out disapprovingly.
“Yes! I’m studying archaeology. Not forensics!”
“What’s the difference?” she argued.
“Thousands of years!” he shot back.
Maybe it was her look of disapproval. Maybe his own curiosity got the better of him. She wasn’t sure, and neither was he. Alec didn’t care, all he knew was that he was washing his hands of it all. Literally. He snatched another wipe out of the container Claire kept handy, and scrubbed his hands.
Mark gave her a reproachful glare, then moved forward cautiously.
Claire gripped Alec’s arm. He scrubbed some more.
Mark slowly knelt, then stood and retrieved a pair of latex gloves. Then he knelt again, and froze in place.
“Wait a minute…” he said, more to himself, than to Alec and Claire.
Mark stared for several long seconds, then gingerly reached out and felt of the wrappings. He leaned closer, then shook his head and laughed a little. He gripped the body, and flipped it over.
Claire screamed, and moved behind Alec. His eyes widened, and he grabbed another wipe.
Mark laughed and shook his head, then stood.
“It’s a replica,” he explained.
“Are you sure?” Alec wondered. “It looks an awful lot like King Tut.”
“I’m sure,” Mark said with certainty. “There’s a label, and… yes. I’m certain.”
Claire came out of her stupor, and out from behind Alec. He tossed his handful of wipes in the nearest dumpster.
“That looks awfully real,” Alec said doubtfully. “And… awful.”
“It’s awfully cool,” Mark replied, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Help me lay the sarcophagus down, and we’ll put it back.”
Claire had a closer look at the Tutankhamun impersonator, while the guys carefully tilted the heavy replica backwards. They lowered it slowly, until it came to rest on the floor with a slight thud.
“It’s a shame this can’t be used in an exhibit,” Claire said regretfully, as Mark lifted the realistic looking mummy, and arranged it inside.
“It can,” Mark reminded her. “As long as it’s labeled as a reproduction, there’s nothing unethical about it. I’m not knocking the museum, but this is probably as close as it’ll ever get to the real thing. The same for a lot of others. It’s not unheard of for museums to exhibit replicas when acquiring the real thing is impossible.”
“Then I’ll suggest it to Mr. Lochlan,” Claire said, seeing Mr. Edwards’ collection with fresh eyes. “We could use some of these other pieces too, couldn’t we? And I don’t just mean the pedestals, to display things.”
“Yes… Mr. Edwards was a real collector. And… it isn’t necessarily all reproduced. There may be some real artifacts here,” Mark said thoughtfully, as he looked past the jumble of items directly ahead, to what lay beyond.
“How exciting,” Claire replied, her eyes shining with satisfaction at the thought.
“I’ll get started sorting this, right after lunch,” Mark decided.
Claire glanced at the clock on the wall, and her eyebrows rose in surprise.
“It’s quitting time, for us,” she said to Alec.
“And not a moment too soon,” he replied, and covered the face of the mummy replica with the death mask. Mark took one end of the sarcophagus lid, Alec took the other, and they set it back in place.
Claire rolled up the r
ug, and Alec moved it aside. She removed her purse from the exhibit shelf, and swiped her ID.
“Hold down the fort while we’re gone,” she ordered.
“I will. Have a safe trip,” Mark replied.
“Thanks, we will,” Alec smiled. “See you next week.”
“Bye,” Claire waved, and followed Alec out to the parking lot. “Oh, we heard from Mr. and Mrs. Lochlan today.”
“How are they?” he asked, as he opened the door of the truck for her.
“Really good,” she replied, her eyes lighting as she reached for her phone. “They sent pictures of the baby. He’s so cute! He and Mrs. Lochlan were released from the hospital this morning.”
“That’s great,” Alec smiled. He joined her on the driver’s side, and she showed him the photos. “I’m sure they’re relieved.”
“Everyone is. We’ve been praying so hard. For all of them, really. Tammy’s busy planning a welcome reception and baby shower. You should see the cake design she chose! You will see it, what am I thinking? You’re invited, of course.”
“Name the time and place,” he replied, and pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the street. “We need to drop by the garage on our way out of town.”
“Is everything alright?” she wondered.
“Everything’s great,” he smiled.
“You didn’t—you finished the car?” she asked in surprise.
“I did, indeed,” he said with satisfaction.
“And… we’re… taking it to Daphne’s wedding?” she asked hesitantly.
“That’s right,” he smiled again.
Claire’s stomach flipped nervously, at the thought of taking a trip in the really old car that sat in her grandparents’ garage since before she was born.
But… Alec knew what he was doing. This was his profession. This was what he did. So…
“Yay,” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
“Oh ye of little faith,” he replied, but his eyes were filled with laughter.
“I said ‘yay,’” she pointed out.
“Yes, much like I would, if you offered to spike my coffee with your grandmother’s mind-altering jam,” he teased.
“It’s actually quite good,” she said primly.
“If we pick some up on our way out of town, maybe you’ll feel better. And it’s a two-hour trip, not a three-hour tour. So don’t even think of suggesting we name your car ‘The Minnow.’”
Claire laughed, and snapped her fingers.
“So much for that plan!”
Alec drove through one of the open doors of his garage, and parked. He left his truck there, and led Claire across the large space, where several vehicles were in the process of undergoing restoration of some kind. The mechanics paused in their work to greet Alec, and glance curiously at Claire. To her satisfaction, he introduced her as his girlfriend.
He introduced her, because she was his girlfriend. If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t introduce her at all! It was a relief to have that settled.
As they neared the classic convertible directly ahead, he watched to see her response. Her eyes slowly widened as she realized she was looking at her own car. What was once dusty of surface and rotten of tire, now belonged in a showroom.
“Oh, wow… are you kidding? This is it?” she asked in amazement, staring at the shining chrome and glossy white jade, rose quartz, and gray pearl paint. “It looks brand new!”
“That’s restoration for you,” he smiled.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said in amazement.
“It is, isn’t it,” he agreed, pleased with her response. He opened the passenger door, and held it for her. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” she said eagerly, and took her seat. Alec joined her, and with a turn of the key, the engine came to life. He drove out through the open door, and pulled onto the road.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I love it,” she said, no less amazed. “But—what if it rains?”
“Then we raise the top,” he replied.
“What if we want to talk?” she wondered, then brushed her hair out of her face, as the wind caught it. Then she brushed it back again, and held it. “Or, what if I want to keep my hair from becoming a tangled mess?”
“Then we stop, and raise the top,” he answered, and did.
“Much better,” she commented, as he pulled back onto the street.
It wasn’t long before they left the town of Juniper Creek behind. As they followed the road toward their destination, the elevation gradually dropped. An hour into their trip, they stopped for lunch, then continued on their way again.
“Have you ever been to Alpine Lake?” Claire wondered, as the road began to climb.
“I haven’t. How about you?”
“No, but it looks beautiful. I’ve seen pictures. The lodge is amazing. This wedding is huge, if I didn’t mention. The whole place is rented out to accommodate guests.”
“Really? No, you didn’t mention that,” he replied, properly impressed—or maybe, overwhelmed—at the magnitude of the wedding they were on their way to attend.
“Daphne’s family, and Daniel’s, are both well-off,” Claire added. “They’re nice, though. They’re not pretentious, at all.”
“Speaking of not pretentious, I can’t believe the change in your sister,” Alec commented.
“I look back to the first time I met her, and neither can I. Who knew I’d ever be thankful Bill Heath was so determined to get my ID. Realizing she could’ve lost the chance to be sisters, is what it took to soften Marlena’s heart, and to destroy the walls that protected her from everything good.”
“I’m thankful Mark was there, and that I left work early that day,” he said, still sick at the thought of what could’ve happened. She squeezed his hand.
“Me too. I’m also thankful our grandmother left me the house. It got me here, and then the letters and photo albums gave us back the family we were missing. Including each other,” she replied, then laughed a little.
“Are you thinking of Christmas?” he smiled.
“Yes! I never would’ve guessed that the boxes in my closet contained almost a lifetime’s worth of Christmas and birthday presents.”
“Have you and your sister opened them, yet?”
“Yes. We finally decided it was about time we did. It’s bittersweet, and Marlena may always feel guilty that she refused to respond when they reached out to her. But… our grandparents loved us, both of us. The letter our grandmother wrote her was very forgiving. And understanding. She wanted us to have the gifts, or she would’ve donated them. Probably to the museum! But she saved them for us. So, we opened them.”
“Good. I’m glad,” he smiled.
“We started at the beginning, which meant we now have several years’ worth of dolls, tea sets, and stuffed animals. Marlena’s saving hers for her daughter, whenever she has one.”
“How about you?” Alec asked.
“Are you kidding? I’m playing with mine. I’ve had several tea parties already. Herschel doesn’t always cooperate, but the dolls and teddy bear stay ‘til the end. They’re terrible conversationalists, but good listeners. I’ve never known one to interrupt. I’ll invite you next time, if you want. You can see for yourself.”
“That, is not what I expected you to say,” he laughed a little. “You’re not saving them for your own daughter?”
“I don’t have a daughter, Alec.”
“Do you want one?”
Claire turned in her seat and stared at him.
“Huh?”
Alec rolled his eyes a little.
“Do you want one someday.”
“Oh. Someday, sure. I need more than one, to do justice to all those gifts. I need a husband, first. Not that I’m hinting, pressuring, or recruiting,” she swiftly added, and slapped her hand over her mouth.
“You’re not?” he smiled.
“No! And you started this conversation, why am I the one who’s turning red!” she e
xclaimed, and covered her face with the hand that wasn’t holding his. He smiled and tried valiantly not to laugh. He also took pity on her, since he had the answer he wanted.
“What else did you find? Or did you get sixteen years’ worth of dolls and bears?”
“No, our grandmother kept it age appropriate,” she replied, more than ready to have the conversation directed elsewhere. She reached for the gold, heart-shaped locket that hung from the chain around her neck. “This is the gift from last Christmas.”
“That’s nice,” he said, glancing at it briefly. “Were there pictures in it?”
“No,” she replied. He glanced at her, and wondered at the look on her face.
“Are there now?”
“Yes.”
“And… those pictures are of…” he prompted.
“Us, for goodness’ sake,” she said, blushing again. “It was either that, or devote it to Herschel.”
“I’m glad to know I rate higher than the cat,” he smiled.
“Or, do you? You’re on my side of the locket. He has his own,” Claire replied, and he laughed.
“I’ll pick being with you, over being alone, any day,” Alec smiled, then so did she.
They reached the outskirts of the small, tourist-driven town of Alpine. Claire looked around curiously, as Alec followed the signs pointing the way to Alpine Lake.
“There’s the church,” she said, and he glanced at the soft gray, stone building. Narrow, arched windows of stained glass caught and held the mid-afternoon sunlight. A bell tower and steeple stood above the vestibule, on the steeply pitched roof. As they passed by, the bell rang out the hour.
“Three o’clock,” Alec commented.
“Right on time,” Claire replied. Excitement filled her at the thought of seeing her best friend again, and introducing her to Alec.
They reached the other side of town, and left it behind. Several minutes later, a sign at the side of the road marked the turnoff. They left the main road, and followed it. The speed limit dropped significantly, so by common consent, they lowered the car’s top.
Trees arched overhead, filtering the sunlight. Birds flitted about, their song filling the humid, rain-scented air. Two bright-eyed squirrels chased each other with reckless abandon, leaping from branch to branch, and tree to tree. They were tenacious and sure-footed, which was all that kept them from falling right out of the trees, and into the convertible, as they crossed the road above it.
Lochlan Museum: The Case of the Collectible Killer Page 40
