Before I could scream, a hand clapped over my mouth. "Don't scream," said the voice against my ear. I bit the hand, tasting skin, and whirled around, the scream dying on my lips.
"Ethan?"
"You bit me!" He bent over, cradling his hand, pain etched across his face.
"You told me not to scream!" I hissed furiously. "You put your hand over my mouth!"
"So you wouldn't scream!"
"Why didn't you just say hi?"
"I would have if I hadn’t suspected you were breaking into Lance's apartment!"
"How did you know I was doing that?"
Ethan glanced up at me, his eyebrows raised. "I didn't know for sure but you just confirmed it."
"Damn!" I suppressed the urge to stomp my foot. Then I realized we were standing on the porch of Lance's building where anyone might pass by. I grabbed Ethan's arm and propelled him off the property.
"What were you doing in there anyway?" he asked.
"Looking for the books Lance stole. Wait! How do you know Lance lived there? And why are you following me?"
Ethan flexed his hand, then pointed across the street to a pretty white Victorian, smaller than Lance's building but just as elegant. "I wasn't following you. I live there. My apartment overlooks the street and I saw you walking by before going into the house. I wondered what you were doing. You looked pretty furtive."
"I could have been visiting someone," I snipped, annoyed that my first criminal act had been monitored so closely. It could have been worse: Detective Logan could have seen me and arrested me on the spot. I suppose I was lucky it was Ethan!
"I knew Lance lived there. I've seen him come and go."
"I'm sorry I bit you," I said, watching him check his hand. "Are you okay?"
"My hand will recover and it was barely a nip. I don't think you have a career ahead of you in biting," he chuckled. "I'm sorry I frightened you, Tess. Let's get out of here."
He took my hand and pulled me after him across the road and towards his home. Before I could protest, he unlocked the door and we stepped into a hallway. It was just like Lance's, except there were no doors leading off it. Instead the hallway opened into a large living room and another hallway that ended in a kitchen.
"Go into the living room. I'll get you a drink and then you can explain why you thought burglary was a good idea," said Ethan. He pointed to the living room and took off down the hallway. While I waited for him to return, I looked around. The walls were white, the light-fitting brass and glass very modern, and it seemed to work well with the original crown moldings and the big fireplace. In the large window was a broad desk covered in paper and pencils. I peered at it, recognizing the basic outline of the museum's new wing.
Ethan handed me a glass of iced tea and moved over to the couch. "So?" he said, waiting.
"I like it," I replied.
He frowned. "What? Oh, that," he said when I pointed to the drawing board. "I meant, did you find anything at Lance's?"
"No. Just large collections of hot sauce and aftershave." I dropped onto the couch next to Ethan and relaxed. I didn't realize how tight and tense my muscles had become during my brief career as a burglar. The strain ebbed out of me as I relaxed, then I stiffened again when I wondered if Ethan would feel duty bound to report me.
"Wouldn't want to mix them up," quipped Ethan.
I laughed. "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to break into Lance's apartment," I confessed. "I should have known he was too smart to keep anything he stole there. He probably sold everything already."
"Obvious criminality aside, I think it was a good idea to check. I'm just glad it was me who saw you and not Detective Logan." Ethan paused to sip his iced tea. "How did you get in anyway?"
"Lance kept a spare set of keys in his office." I raised my hand, dangling the keys. "I'll put them back but I don't think anyone will notice they were gone."
"Did you find anything interesting?"
"Besides the hot sauce? No. Lance was really committed to the bachelor life. Leather sofa, big TV, and a kitchen he never cooked in." As I said it, I glanced around, noticing how different Ethan's apartment was with his collection of books and beautifully framed drawings on the wall. "There wasn't anything personal. It was like he barely lived there. I have to say his clothes were all pretty expensive. Either he spent his whole salary on what he wore or he had other funds to supplement his lifestyle."
Ethan frowned. "Do you think he stole from the museum to fund his clothes horse habit?"
"That would seem strange though I can't rule out an addiction to luxuries as a motivation. Lance obviously had expensive taste." I sipped the iced tea, glad for the cool refreshment. Also, I thought guiltily, if anyone asked how I spent my lunch hour, I could legitimately say I visited Ethan. "Lance booked a hotel and plane ticket to Hawaii. He was due to leave in two weeks. I didn't know he was planning a vacation."
"A vacation? Or skipping town?" asked Ethan.
"Would a skanky thief skip town to Hawaii?" I wondered.
"I would," laughed Ethan.
I thought about it. "Me too," I admitted. "The girls would love it."
"Do you have any more ideas about Lance's nefarious schemes?"
I shook my head. "No. I just wanted to confirm the thefts but I can't. Not for certain anyway. There's the two books he stole, but I already turned the information over to Detective Logan. I hope he can find out if Lance was involved with all the missing books. Ethan, this is really frustrating."
"I'm sure."
When my cell phone rang, I fished it from my pocket and frowned at the screen. "It's the library," I told him as I answered. "Maybe Sara learned something."
"Tess? I have some news," said Sara, sounding excited, which meant that my daughters hadn't incurred a late fee on their library books, again. For that alone, I was grateful.
"About the books?"
"Yes! I've been doing some research while the library is quiet and I found one of your books for sale. At least, I think it's yours. Everything matches up and my research suggests there are very few copies of that title. So the laws of probability indicate it is highly unlikely that your book went missing at the same time the same title is available for sale."
"It would be a huge coincidence," I agreed, holding the phone so Ethan could listen too.
"It took a lot of digging to find it as it wasn't advertised on the web so I had to go through pages of information on the specialist auction houses website," explained Sara, "and I found it listed just last week. There's a reserve price so it hasn't sold yet and the auction is scheduled for tomorrow. Maybe you could get the police involved and claim it back?"
"It's not officially reported stolen yet. Can you email me the information?"
"Sending it now. There's one more thing. I found two of your other titles listed on that site too, dating back last month and the month before that. I couldn't find the sales prices because they didn't go to auction, although they were sold. I'll send you everything I found."
"We could stop the action," said Ethan after Sara hung up. "If they know the book is potentially stolen, they won't want to be associated with selling it."
"That's assuming they don't know it's stolen. What if they do know?"
"That means they're in on it. Could Lance have been stealing on order?"
"I suppose the dealer would know what their regular clients' interests are or if they were looking for something specific. It would make sense for them to put out feelers to the sellers. Although, if that's the case, why not just arrange a private sale like the other books rather than involving an auction?"
"It could be both," decided Ethan. “Assuming all these books do belong to the museum, there are still three books unaccounted for.”
"I should get back to the office and read Sara's email. If there's enough evidence to confirm the auction lots really are our books, I'll take it to Artie and the board for them to make a decision."
Ethan checked his watch. "I'm guessing this was your lunch hour?"
"Yes, and I still haven't eaten." My stomach gave an ominous rumble and I laughed, patting it. "I might have just enough time to grab a sandwich on my way back. Thanks for not calling the police on me," I added as I got up, leaving my tea glass on the coffee table.
"Next time, invite me along," joked Ethan. At least, I hoped he wasn’t serious. I didn't plan on breaking into anymore houses ever again! I was sure my luck extended this one time only.
Ethan walked me out and after asking me to tell him what happened after I informed the board, I left. I walked quickly back to Main Street, eager to see Sara's email waiting for me, but hunger pangs insisted I detour past the Corner Coffee Cafe to pick up a roast beef and pickle sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. Then I thought better of my single order and asked for an extra cookie. Karen deserved a treat and if I had to spend the afternoon hunting stolen property online, I needed to be sufficiently fueled. While I waited for my order, a couple of people asked when the museum was due to open again but all I could tell them was to watch for the signs before hurrying away when they started talking about the murder. Unfortunately, I didn't have any answers to their mawkish questions.
From Main Street, it was quicker to enter the museum via the front doors but I had to knock for Karen to let me in. She did so with a quizzical look. "When did you sneak out?" she asked. She pushed the door open and I stepped in, flipping the lock behind me.
I held up the paper bag. "I brought cookies."
"Forget I asked. I’ll make coffee," she said, smiling now. "I'll bring one up to your office. I printed out all the audit files too so you just have to say when and we can get started."
"I need to do some research but how about later this afternoon? Brooke and Leah offered to help too."
"You have good girls. I just love that they want to hang out with their mom at a museum in their free time. I wish mine were like that but it's all sports for them. I just don't know where they get it from. It sure isn't from me or their father."
"As the kids say, I am 'hashtag so blessed'." I winked and Karen laughed.
I jogged up the stairs and first went into Lance's office to drop the keys into his drawer where I found them. Then I hurried across the hall to my office and flopped into my chair, relieved that my brief career of crime was over. My heart definitely couldn't take the kind of pounding I experienced earlier. I could only imagine how Lance felt when he committed the thefts, if anything at all. I wondered how long he planned to steal things from the museum, and if he would have continued until he picked it clean of any item of value. I couldn't think about the "what ifs" now. I had to focus on finding out what happened.
Sara's email was at the top of my inbox. While I ate my sandwich, I clicked on it and opened all the links she included. Like she explained over the phone, the web links took me to an auction website. I cross referenced the information on the two sold books and the one for sale with the information I had on file and had to agree with her. These three books definitely looked like they belonged to the museum. I fired off a thank you email and sat back, wondering what to do next.
"Coffee!" trilled Karen as she entered, bearing two steaming mugs.
"You get a cookie," I told her, handing over the bag. She plucked a cookie out and handed the bag back to me.
"The quiet is so strange," said Karen. She sat in the chair on the other side of the desk and nibbled the cookie. "I think I've exhausted all the menial tasks available. I'm not good with so much solitude. I'm even looking forward to the audit, just for something to do!"
"First time for everything!" I laughed since the annual audit was something no one looked forward to.
"So long as this is the only murder we ever have," she murmured. "I must admit, I don't feel safe being downstairs in the lobby all by myself. I never felt like that before! The idea that someone could be creeping around, ready to kill me too, keeps popping into my head. Every creak makes me jump and boy, does this museum creak a lot."
"Why would anyone want to kill you?" I asked.
"Someone killed Lance on a night crowded with people. It could be a crazed killer, picking us off one by one!"
"If that were the case, they're being a little slow about it," I pointed out. I tried, and failed, to conceal the shiver that thought gave me.
Karen giggled. "I guess. All the same, I keep looking over my shoulder. I'm suddenly hearing things I never heard before; the old water pipes rattling, the stairs squeaking. Even the telephone suddenly sounds shriller."
"Why don't you take the afternoon off?" I suggested. "Like you said, there's nothing for you to do. Take a couple of hours and come back when the girls and I are here and we'll do the audit together. Strength in numbers."
"Normally, I'd protest, but I appreciate it. I might take a walk or maybe distribute some of those postcards we had printed for the exhibition around town. Then I'll feel like I'm doing something beneficial. Although, maybe I shouldn’t leave you?"
"That sounds like a great idea," I encouraged. "Artie and I will be fine here. Come find me when you're back."
I waved to Karen as she left, visibly happier now, and returned my attention to the computer screen. For a few minutes, I browsed the auction website, looking at the items listed for the next sale. They specialized in books, ephemera, and other items of cultural interest dating back some two hundred years. There were several books I would have liked to take a look at, plus some lovely maps and pamphlets that inspired me with ideas for new exhibitions. The panel at the bottom of the page held a link to the contacts page. I clicked on it to a succinct page offering directions to the auction house along with email addresses and a phone number.
The other auction house failed to produce any useful information but what if I took a different tactic this time? If I could break into Lance's house, perhaps I could lie convincingly too? It was something I always discouraged my daughters from ever doing, but this was a special case. I needed to find the truth about Lance's activities. I was sure whatever he was up to had to be linked to his murder.
Picking up my desk phone, I dialed the number. When a young woman answered, I said, "My boss asked me to check if there's any interest in two items we have listed with you," I said, my heart pounding audibly again.
"I can find out. What's your boss's name?" she asked.
"Lance Fleming." I held my breath, waiting for her to call me out on the lie.
"Here it is," she said, the sound of keys tapping barely audible. "Yes, there has been some interest. Not quite as much as we hoped for but I'm sure that will change on auction day."
"Oh, gee, I've temporarily misplaced my list of what we have for sale with you. Could you please read the items?" I asked, grabbing a sheaf of papers and flapping them loudly like I was looking for something.
"There are two books, a Lewis Carroll and a Dickens. There's also the trinket box that Mr. Fleming sent last week. We haven't listed it yet as there is significant interest from a private collector. I see from the notes on screen that my boss tried to call Mr. Fleming about arranging a sale. Shall we proceed?"
I tapped my finger against my list; both the Carroll and Dickens were on there. I shook my head in annoyance at Lance’s deceit. "No. Mr. Fleming would like all the items withdrawn immediately from sale."
"Oh! That is rather unexpected. May I ask the reason why?" she inquired.
"He changed his mind. We'd actually like to arrange for all the items to be returned."
"All of them?"
"That’s correct. All of them," I repeated.
"I'll have to speak to my boss. It might be too late since we've listed the lots already. Let me transfer you."
"No--" I started but the hold music already began to play. I winced. So far, I managed to keep up the lie, but I wasn't sure I could think fast enough to prolong it. If they saw through me, I might lose the books forever. And what was that about a trinket box?
"This is Audrey Hemsley," came another woman's voice, much older this time. "Who's this?"
"Lance Fleming's secretary, ma'am," I lied.
"My assistant tells me you want to withdraw the items from sale. Is that correct?"
"Yes, it is. Mr. Fleming apologizes for the inconvenience but we need the items returned at once. We'll be happy to cover any costs," I said swiftly.
"You'll have to excuse me if I'm surprised. Mr. Fleming is always so keen to sell with us."
"And he will be happy to continue to do so, unfortunately, we do need the items returned as soon as possible. We have been notified of an issue with their provenance and we prefer not to sell the items until we've gotten to the bottom of the matter."
Audrey hesitated, then asked cautiously, "Are they stolen?"
"Possibly."
"We'll remove them from public sale at once. As soon as they're cleared with any concerned parties, we hope you'll return them to us to retail. I hoped to arrange a private sale for the trinket box and there have been multiple interested parties in the books."
"We appreciate that opportunity, thank you."
"Of course, if they happened to have already sold in a private sale, would that be an issue?"
I hesitated, uncertain of what she meant. "I'm not sure I follow."
"It's entirely possible that a private collector, let’s say, outside the United States, might have bought the items for a good cash price, rendering the items untraceable."
I had to think fast. She seemed to be suggesting that Lance's items could still be sold, but off the books. I thought she’d be appalled at the possibility of selling stolen merchandise but it seemed like she didn't care at all, only that she didn't get caught and still turned a profit.
"Of course, our sales fee is usually a little higher in these more delicate cases but that's never been an issue for Mr. Fleming," she continued.
"Of course," I agreed, fighting to keep hold of my temper. "However, he has given me strict instructions to ensure these items are returned to us on this occasion. I really must insist."
"They will be mailed today. I hope Mr. Fleming won't make a habit of this. It's not good business."
"I'll pass that along," I said, slightly intimidated and desperate to get off the phone before she called my bluff.
"I didn't get your name?"
"Tess," I said. "You can address the parcel to my attention at Mr. Fleming's return address."
"I will have my assistant take care of it forthwith," she said and hung up.
I dropped the phone into the cradle and smiled. The museum might yet get some of its stolen property back!
"Take that, Lance," I said, fist-pumping the air at my small victory.