Chapter Fourteen

 

"Forget what I said yesterday," remarked Karen. "I hate auditing the museum. I always forget how much stuff we have!"

"I am so glad Leah and Brooke helped yesterday. I suppose I should thank Detective Logan for checking the book inventory with me too."

"I bet he never thought his law enforcement career would involve counting books."

"I never thought my museum career would involve murder."

Karen shook her head. "So many people asked me about Lance yesterday when I handed out pamphlets. I hardly knew what to say."

"Tell them to ask Detective Logan," I suggested.

"I don't think they need to. When I said I didn't know much, a dozen people told me everything they knew. The gossip mill is working just fine in Calendar."

I laughed. When I first moved to Calendar, I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to everyone knowing everything about everyone else but the charm of the small-town life soon won me over. While there might be a lot of gossip, there is a huge amount of camaraderie too. When I divorced, I received help for childcare and some of my new friends and neighbors cooked enough food to fill the freezer. The wider community always came together to support those in need too. Plus, the town was well renowned for its love of celebrating. Not a month went by when there wasn't a party or parade.

"Maybe someone will tell us what's going on. I haven't heard a word from Detective Logan although that's a relief. I'm still scared he'll arrest me," I confessed.

"Ridiculous," scoffed Karen. She closed the door of the glass cabinet. "We've finished this case, checked and double-checked. Is that the whole room?"

"Yes," I said, referring to my list. "Even better, nothing is missing in here!" I didn’t add how disappointed I was that we had found three missing items elsewhere. It was too awful to think about it.

"We might not finish the audit by the time the board gets here. Do you think it will matter?"

"No, I don't think so." I spent some time the previous evening preparing my file to give to the board along with the evidence I amassed. The file wasn't huge but it contained last year's audit and this year's confirmations of the library inventory; plus, the printouts of the sales that Sara Cutler researched and the one I found. Finally, I added a detailed statement about yesterday's conversation with the auction house. I omitted the bit about me pretending to be Lance's secretary. They didn't have to know how the conversation revealed that Lance was the true seller, only that I found out and the stolen items were on their way back. I hoped the hard evidence would be enough for the board to launch a more thorough investigation, although I wasn't sure what else they hoped to find. It seemed like I already had the damning evidence.

"All the second-floor rooms are done. Should we wait for Detective Logan to let us open the exhibition room before we go ahead and audit the whole floor? Or just do the rooms we can access? I'm a little confused as to whether we're allowed to go in there or not. I have to admit, I'm not sure I want to."

"Let's take a coffee break first. We deserve one," I told her. We took the grand staircase down and as we walked into the lobby, Karen muttered with a laugh, "We deserve a wine break." I hoped her easy demeanor meant she felt better being at the museum now. I was sure it would take us both some time; I still felt jittery when I thought I was alone in the offices. Knowing that the board members would arrive soon was small comfort. Yes, the place would soon be occupied although the occupants wouldn't be happy once Artie and I informed them of what we knew.

I started to answer that we should do what we could after we relaxed for a few minutes with a coffee, when we both looked up at the sound of knocking at the door. It repeated, this time more urgently. "Could it be the mailman?" she asked. "Maybe it's the stolen books you had returned? Could they be here already? I'll go ahead." She hurried off before I could tell her it was probably one of the "concerned" townsfolk wondering if they could "take a peek."

When I crossed the lobby, a short, round, man in a checkered suit waited in the doorway, a battered briefcase in his hand. I recognized him but I couldn't match a name to his face.

"I have an appointment with Lance Fleming," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. "How come the museum is closed up? I didn't realize there was a midweek closing or I would have arranged to meet Mr. Fleming another day."

"It's just temporary," I told him. It was strange that he didn't seem to know what happened. Had he been living under a rock these past few days? "Lance isn't available. Was he expecting you? Perhaps I can help. I'm Tess Hernandez."

"Are you his secretary?" the short man demanded.

"Umm... no. I'm the museum's Deputy Manager."

"If you can direct me to Lance's office, I'd appreciate it."

"I can't. Like I said..."

"Oh, sure. He's unavailable. When is he due back? I tried calling him but it went directly to voicemail."

"He won't be back. There's been an accident." I glanced at Karen and she frowned and shook her head, just as perplexed as I. Was this the only person in Calendar who didn't know what happened?

"Is he in the hospital? I can go there. It's very important he reviews this paperwork. I have several buyers that might be interested."

"For Lance's apartment?" I asked, even more confused now. "I thought it was rented?"

"No, for the derelict wing!"

I laughed. Of course, he was joking. "Oh, that's not for sale," I told him.

"You're Tony Mausman, the realtor whose face is on all the park benches!" gasped Karen. "I knew I recognized you. You must too, Tess. He has that catchy slogan: Tony Mausman the House Man!"

An image of the man's smiling face on the bus bench down the street popped into my head. He had an office in Hallowell and I'd seen several of his sales boards outside homes and the occasional business premises in town. He was known for being a fair man who charmed his way through sales and had a good eye for profit. Both buyers and sellers trusted him.

"Where is Lance?" he pressed. "This is really important."

"Mr. Mausman, I'm sorry to tell you that Lance passed away just a few days ago."

"What? He's a young man. What was it? Heart attack? Car accident?" he asked, his surprise masked by the rapid questions.

"Lance was murdered," Karen mumbled.

"What?! That's just terrible. Terrible! Oh, that poor man. What is this town coming to?" Mr. Mausman shook his head, a sad look passing across his face. When he glanced up again, he was still shaking his head. "You all must be very sad to lose that young man."

"So sad," said Karen flatly.

"I guess I should ask you as Lance's second-in-command to look over the paperwork before we proceed. I'm sure you want to get on with it despite this terrible tragedy."

"Tess is not--" started Karen.

I stopped her with a hand on her arm. I had the awful, sick feeling Mr. Mausman wasn't joking about what he thought was the sale of the museum wing. "I'll take a look at the paperwork now," I said, holding out my hand. Mr. Mausman rummaged in his briefcase, producing a thin sheaf of papers, which he handed to me. I glanced through them quickly, scanning the pertinent parts. "This really is for the sale of the new wing," I said aloud, "When was this set up?"

"Lance approached me two weeks ago. I didn't even know the wing was for sale and I always have my feelers out for information like that," explained Mr. Mausman, relaxing now that we were talking business. "Lance told me he'd taken over as manager and a decision was made to sell the derelict outbuilding. Like I told him, there is so much potential ready to be tapped with that building and if the museum didn't want it, I would find someone who would. A cafe perhaps, or an elegant restaurant. Of course it would have to be fully refurbished, which is costly, but I can see one of our big chain restaurants snapping up a lease. There's even potential for some bijoux apartments for vacationers seeking upscale luxury right in the middle of town. Or we could go the shop route. There's ample space for a couple of nice clothing boutiques or maybe even a grocery store for the discerning shopper."

I hated to break it to the realtor but I couldn't string him along. "I'm afraid none of that will happen. Lance misled you. The property isn't for sale."

"But we had a deal!"

"In writing?" I asked, hoping that wasn't the case.

"Well, no, but we spoke at length and he showed me around. We talked about its sale and leasing and I don't mind telling you there was a fat fee in it for Lance too."

"Did you pay him already?"

Mr. Mausman shook his head and jabbed a finger on the paperwork. "Not until the paperwork is signed. It won't be a problem to send a little kickback your way," he added, peering at me hopefully.

"Like I said, Lance misled you. The wing isn't for sale. It never has been. The museum is converting it into a new wing."

He wrinkled his nose suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

"Completely sure. We have an architect working on the plans as we speak. The wing has never been for sale and even if it were, I promise you, Lance wouldn't have been responsible for transacting any of it."

"I don't understand."

"Are you sure it was Lance Fleming you spoke with?" asked Karen.

"Around six feet tall, hair covered in gel, drives one of those fancy convertibles," said Mr. Mausman, reaching far above him and topping the height with the palm of his hand. Almost. He was a little too short to reach.

"That does sound like him," said Karen. She glanced at me and pulled a face.

"I'm so sorry for your wasted journey," I told him.

"I'd like to speak to whomever is in charge," persisted Mr. Mausman.

"That would be me. Like I said, I'm very sorry. I'm not sure what Lance told you but I can swear to you, there is no sale here."

"But he seemed so certain."

"I'm sure he did," I said grimly. "But there won't be any sale today or any other day. You should be glad you didn't pay any money." I began to usher him to the door. There was no point in the conversation going around in circles. Mr. Mausman came very close to being duped and the sooner he realized that, the better for all of us. I was sure it wouldn't be a pleasant moment for him when the realization finally hit. His business thrived on trust and transparency and Lance nearly managed to swindle him out of thousands of dollars, not to mention the furore that would occur when someone discovered the deal was a bad one.

"I'm going to write to the board. There has to be one. I was promised a sale," said Mr. Mausman as Karen opened the door and I politely guided him out.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," I told him. "You'll find all the details on our website." Then I shut the door, locked it, and turned to Karen. "Is he gone?" I asked, my back to the door.

She leaned to one side and looked around me. "He's scratching his head. No, he's moving. He's walking away. Tess, what was all that about?"

"I think we just stumbled onto another one of Lance's schemes. I'm surprised he didn't try to sell the whole museum! What was he thinking? He couldn't possibly have gotten away with it!"

"Maybe he would have once Artie retired and you were out of the way!"

Rage coursed through me. I fully believed Lance was capable exactly of that. If he talked his way into the promotion by lying, perhaps he could talk the board into selling the derelict wing and pocketing some of the proceeds. Maybe he would even convince the board the museum wasn't worth it. All he had to do to make its sale appealing would be to bomb the ticket sales and ensure the museum became a loss-making attraction that could no longer fund itself. "I know we shouldn't speak ill of the dead but... but... that scheming, little rat!" I spat. In my hand, I crunched the papers Mr. Mausman handed me. Then realizing what I had, I smoothed the crumpled corner. In a calmer voice I added, "I'm going to show this to the board so they realize just who they were dealing with!"

"His family will be so ashamed of him," said Karen.

I winced. "And I’ll be the one to tell his uncle what he was up to. I just hope it's not a case of kill the messenger when I present my evidence." I checked my watch. I didn't have a lot of time left. The board would be arriving within the next half hour and I had to make sure I briefed Artie of the new developments. "Can you call me when the board arrives and show them all into the meeting room?" I asked. "We can complete the rest of the audit tomorrow."

Karen gave me a forced smile and jazz hands. "I can hardly wait!"

I headed upstairs, waving to Artie through his open door and entering my office, glad to drop into my chair for a moment after the headache discussion with Tony Mausman the House Man. On top of that, a couple of hours of stretching, kneeling, and box checking left my muscles sore and aching. Unfortunately, there was no better way of cataloging every item in the museum than to go around every room, visually verifying that everything was in place, and in the correct display cabinet. I shared Karen's relief that, so far, we hadn't found anything else missing, although there were a few rooms left to inspect. Given that the auction house confirmed Lance listed a trinket box with them, I felt sure we would find one missing from our collection. That reminded me, had Detective Logan found the missing dagger yet?

I called him, surprised when I got through.

"How can I help?" he asked, sounding like he'd rather do anything but.

"It's more like how I can help you," I told him, hoping that if I gave him something, he might reciprocate with some information of his own. "I've tracked down some of the missing books to an auction house and confirmed that Lance was the seller. Would you like me to send the information to you?"

"Send me whatever you have and then leave it to me."

"Of course," I agreed readily. I didn't want him to think I'd been butting into his investigation. "Something strange happened today. Do you know Tony Mausman?"

"The House Man? Sure. Who doesn't?"

"He just came by the museum to get Lance to sign the paperwork for selling our derelict outbuilding."

"The one you're renovating?"

"The very same. Mr. Mausman seemed to think he had a deal with Lance. There was a lot of money involved. Could that be a motive?"

"You're handing me a suspect?"

When he put it like that... "I guess so," I said, feeling unsure about the idea of Tony Mausman as a murderer.

"Did any money exchange hands?"

"No. Mr. Mausman was lucky."

"I'll look into it. Thank you for the tip. Anything else?"

"I'm conducting the audit and I remembered you said the dagger was missing. Have you found it yet?"

"No. I have a feeling we won't. Or, at least, not until we're ready to make an arrest."

A burst of excitement sent my heart rate up. "You're going to arrest someone?"

"I didn't say that."

"But..."

"I have an appointment. Thanks for your help." Detective Logan put the phone down before I could splutter another question.

When my desk phone rang seconds later, I grabbed it. "They're here," said Karen.

I thanked her and grabbed my file, heading to Artie's office. "The board are here," I told him.

"This is going to be pleasant," said Artie with a roll of his eyes.

"It only gets worse. We had a realtor come by just fifteen minutes ago, saying Lance was ready to sign a deal to sell the new wing."

Artie's brows pinched together. "Wing of what?"

"The museum, Artie!"

"But it's not for sale!"

"I know that. You know that. The realtor was surprised to hear that. According to him, Lance was excited to go ahead and land a fat commission."

"I want to say you're joking but the look on your face tells me you're serious. You are, aren't you?"

I nodded. "'Fraid not."

"I hope you sent him packing."

"I did but not before I got a copy of his contract. Lance stood to make a lot of money if the sale went through."

"You better wait and tell me and the board at the same time or you'll be repeating this story in a minute." Artie eased out of his chair and waved me out the door. He followed me to the board room and we both walked through the open door, taking the chairs immediately in front of us, ready to shock them all.