Sight Shot (Imogene Museum Mystery #3) (2 page)

“
Saw the lights on. I’m tight for time,” the man said. His dark blond hair was cut military-short, and he had a mustache and goatee trimmed around thick, fleshy lips. He carried a beat-up leather valise, as large as a carpetbag and crinkled with age.

“
No problem. Is there an exhibit you’re particularly interested in? I can show you where it is.”

“
No, thanks.” He shifted the valise to his left hand and stuck out his right. “I’m Wade Snead. Was wondering if you’d take a look at some family papers. See if there’s anything of value.”

I shook his hand.
“Meredith Morehouse. Curator. But it sounds like you need to talk to a document appraiser. I could give you a few names.”

“
We’re a local family. Figured you’d have archives to compare against.” He held the valise toward me, shaking it a little the way you’d tease a dog with a bacon strip.

Okay, so maybe I was salivating.
“I’m not qualified. I could do some research, but I couldn’t assign value — at least not officially.”

“
Whatever you can do would be great. I have to go out of the country for a few days—”

“
Oh!” I said, accidentally cutting Wade off.

Edna had snuck in. There
’s no better word for it. And she was standing just behind and to the right of Wade, her face pinched. She looked me up and down, took in the notebook under my arm and squinted. Two bright pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “I quit!” she yelled.

Wade whirled around, and we both stared at her.

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Okay.” I nodded. “In fact, that’s fantastic.”

“
You — you can’t just—” Edna’s hands tightened into fists, one of which held the museum key ring. “I’ll sue!” She launched toward me.

I gasped and stumbled backward. It took a second to realize that while Edna
’s arms and legs were moving, she wasn’t going anywhere. My heartbeat raced in my ears.

“
Let me go!”

“
No.” Wade frowned. “You need to think about this.”

“
You—” Edna swiveled and tried to kick Wade’s shins.

He shifted his grip from her coat collar to her shoulders and held her in a stiff-arm block. She flailed ineffectually, turning redder by the moment.

“You should leave,” Wade said.

I jumped forward, holding a finger in the air.
“Just a minute. I need the keys.”

Edna suddenly went stiff and locked her arms behind her back. She fixed me with a vicious glare.

“I’ll trade.” I flipped the pages of the notebook. “Your drawings for my keys.”

Her eyes darted back and forth as she considered. Then her hand jutted forward, her knuckles white around the keys.

I advanced slowly.

She lunged for the notebook, but I pulled it back.

“Keys.” I held my other hand out, palm up.

She dropped the keys in my palm and snatched the notebook. She backed up, clutching it to her chest, then turned and barged through the front doors. The Beetle
’s tires squealed on the pavement as she sped away.

I exhaled. The keys in my hand jangled from my shaking. I stuffed them in my jeans pocket.

Wade chuckled.

I turned to him.
“You know Edna?”

“
Went to high school together. Hasn’t changed much.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “Always was an odd bird.”

“
Thanks for restraining her.”

Wade stooped, picked up the valise and handed it to me, his eyebrows raised in a question.
“So we’re even?”

I wrapped my arms around the bag and hugged it, surprised by its heft.
“Sure.” I grinned. “Phone number? Way I can contact you?”

Wade pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and extracted a business card.
“Phone, e-mail — it’s all there. Appreciate it.” He tucked the card between my fingers.

Wade left the museum and climbed into his muddy Dodge Ram pickup. A big truck for a big guy.

And a big bag. I let it slide to the floor. “Whew.” I flipped his card over. It read
Wade Snead, Owner & Contractor, Snead HVAC
, and the phone number had an area code I didn’t recognize.

I hauled Wade
’s bag up to my office then hustled back downstairs to officially open the museum. I’d have to pull gift shop duty today and put all research on hold until I could find a replacement for Edna.

CHAPTER
2

The confrontation with Edna bothered me. She’d gone from placid to irate so fast and without provocation. I dialed Sheriff Marge Stettler. Sheriff Marge knows everyone in Sockeye County, and she’s also a good friend.

“
Yep,” Sheriff Marge said.

“
Had a little incident at the museum this morning.”

“
Dead body?”

“
No, no. Nothing like that.”

“
Huh.”

It
’s not that Sheriff Marge likes dead bodies; it’s just that I’ve found a couple. Enough to last me a lifetime. No, I’d take unexpected psychotic behavior over a murder any day.

“
My new gift shop manager locked an elderly couple in the museum overnight, probably accidentally. Still, I needed to fire her, but she quit before I could. Kind of aggressively. I thought she was going to attack me, but Wade Snead held her back.”

“
Wade Snead’s in town? Huh.” Sheriff Marge cleared her throat. “Are you wanting to file charges?”

“
No. She just seemed a little unbalanced, and I was wondering if you knew her, if I should be worried.”

“
Gonna tell me her name?”

“
Sorry. Edna Garman.”

“
Edna Garman? You hired Edna Garman?” Sheriff Marge chortled.

“
Is that funny?”

Sheriff Marge was howling with laughter now. I could just picture her doubled over slapping her thigh.

I groaned. “I want a Lindsay clone. Why is this so hard?”

“
Can’t help you with that one, but next time you’re thinking of hiring someone, run them by me, okay? I’ll give a character reference without violating confidentiality.” Sheriff Marge chuckled again. “Edna Garman. Oh boy.”

I heaved a sigh into the phone.
“Are you going to tell me why you find this so amusing?”

“
Edna’s a kleptomaniac. You better look around the gift shop and see if anything’s missing.”

“
But she seemed so — so nondescript, so innocuous. Really?” My eyes skittered across the shelves and racks — glossy coffee table books about local geology, Native American clans, Lewis and Clark, wildlife and wildflowers; 3-D puzzles; the usual tourist knickknack keychains, magnets and mugs; postcards; jewelry; polished river rock paperweights — it all looked the same to me. “Are you sure?”

“
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been out to the Garman place to retrieve stuff for shop owners and private citizens. She took a hamster home from her last job at the pet store. Had it in a shoe box on the top shelf of her bedroom closet. Had some other things up there I’m sure weren’t originally hers, but since no one’d reported them missing, I left them with Edna for safekeeping. That’s one thing — she never damages what she takes. It’s all carefully stored.”

“
Wow. She was scary today, though. Went ballistic.”

“
It’s not like Edna to get emotional. Tell you what — look around, make a list of what’s missing, and I’ll talk to her. Maybe something’s going on that’s pushed her over the edge.” Sheriff Marge paused for a moment. “Yeah. Her mother’s not in the best health. I should check on them anyway. Call me.” She hung up.

I exhaled. What else did Sheriff Marge know? I shook my head. Knowing everyone
’s faults must be a real burden. I know she feels a great deal of responsibility for her constituents, and I’d benefited her gruff compassion enough times to expect she shows the same to others.

There was only one way to find out what was missing. I called Lindsay.

“No problem,” Lindsay said when I’d explained. “I can’t believe that happened, though. Wow. I’m sure I can fill in for the next few days, starting this afternoon. I don’t leave until the 5th for new student orientation.”

“
You’re a lifesaver.” I snagged a book on Pacific Northwest birds and settled behind the cash register to wait for Lindsay and any visitors.

Rupert Hagg was the first arrival during normal business hours. He
’s the museum director and world-traveling scout for the Imogene’s ever-expanding collections. He looks like a cross between my childhood teddy bear and Sean Connery. He has a teddy bear physique but the actor’s lack of head hair, expressive face and warm brown eyes. Deep, gravelly voice too, but no brogue.

He ambled into the gift shop, hands deep in his pants pockets.
“There you are.” He looked at me quizzically. “Why are you in here?”

I hated to tell him my hiring failure had put the museum
’s reputation in jeopardy, but I spilled everything from Wally and Ginny to Edna and Wade.

Rupert shook his head and chuckled.
“You know, sleepovers at the museum might not be a bad idea. Except we don’t have a ghost to entertain them.”

“
We’d never pass whatever inspections are necessary for hotels,” I said. “But maybe we could swing it occasionally as a fundraising event. We could present lectures and serve appetizers.”

“
Ah-ha.” Rupert aimed a blunt finger at me. “Brilliant. Especially when you see what I just bought.” His grin radiated delight and mischief.

My eyebrows shot up. Rupert had just returned from Europe
— Paris specifically, but probably other places as well. He operates tangentially, so it’s hard to pin him down about his travel plans, about his collection goals and for big decisions — small ones too, for that matter. He always keeps his acquisitions a surprise so I get the feeling of Christmas every time I open a shipment.

“
A hint? Just one?” I grinned.

“
Nope.” Rupert tugged on the brim of his tweed driving cap and turned to leave. “I put the paperwork on your desk.”

“
We need to talk about an improved security system before your next trip,” I called, but Rupert had disappeared around the corner.

I manage all the day-to-day operations of the museum, but I still need Rupert
’s approval for large expenditures. We’re lucky the security system we have isn’t fully functioning, or Wally and Ginny would have been scared out of their skins by the ear-splitting screech of an intruder alarm. With the increasing value of the Imogene’s collections, I was getting worried. The doors and windows had open/close sensors, but the internal motion detectors were on bypass because spiders held disco dance competitions in front of the seeing-eye beams in the middle of the night.

I welcomed a few visitors but mostly fidgeted for the next couple hours. I was so anxious to run upstairs and check the paperwork on the new shipment. Sometimes the generic item listings on the bills of lading provide enough information to get Mac MacDougal, owner of the Sidetrack Tavern and my custom cabinetmaker, started on display cases in the right sizes.

Lindsay breezed in. She was bundled in a puffy coat and cheery red scarf. “Whew,” she said as she extricated herself. “If this cold spell keeps up, we’re going turn to icicles during the New Year’s Eve fireworks.”

“
Greg’ll keep you warm.” I couldn’t help teasing her. Greg’s my graduate student intern who drives up from Oregon State University to work weekends at the Imogene, and they’d recently started dating.

Lindsay blushed.
“Oh, shush. We’re taking things slow, especially since we’ll hardly see each other now until summer.”

“
What about weekends? Pullman’s what — five hours away?”

“
Meet in the middle? Yeah, I expect we’ll try to do that a few times. I’m worried about how much homework I’ll have, though. I still can hardly believe this is happening.” Lindsay shook her head. “College. Me.”

She strolled through the gift shop, her expert eye taking in all the products and displays. “If Edna took any of the small items where we have a bunch — like this,” she scooped up a handful of strung wampum beads, “I’d never know, but nothing important or expensive is missing.”

“
Do you know Edna?”

“
Nope. I mean, I know who she is, of course, but I don’t know anything about her. I never would have guessed she’s a kleptomaniac. My mom said Edna’s father was killed in action and that her mom was never right after that. It’s why they live pretty secluded.”

“
She was really upset about something.” I pulled my arms across my chest and clutched my shoulders. The Imogene is draft central on the best of days. But now that Lindsay’d mentioned the outside temperature, I felt extra chilly air currents curl around my ankles, and I shivered. “I don’t want Edna to get in trouble.”

Lindsay rummaged through the cabinets and drawers under the cash register.
“Did you throw away the black bear figurine with the broken leg?”

I shook my head.
“Didn’t know there was one.”

“
A kid dropped it a few weeks back. I didn’t ask the parents to pay for it, said I’d try to glue it. I shoved it in here and kind of forgot about it. I know we could never sell it, but I thought we might be able to give it away.” Her voice was muffled as she shifted stuff around deep in the cupboard. Then she stood and pushed her long blond hair behind her shoulder. “It’s gone, both pieces. It certainly wasn’t worth anything, though. Maybe Edna realized that and threw it away, but you’d think she’d have tidied other things in the process.”

Lindsay surveyed the room one more time, then shrugged.
“Looks okay.”

“
I started a new notebook for tallying visitors.” I pointed to the clean page open next to the register.

“
Gotcha. I’ll take it from here.”

“
Thanks for coming in.”

“
I’m going to miss this place. Don’t forget to let whoever you hire know that the job’s mine again this summer.” Lindsay flapped her hand toward the door. “I’m sure you have something to research. Rupert’s back, isn’t he?”

I laughed.
“Yeah. With another mystery shipment on the way.”

I dashed upstairs and scooped up Rupert
’s paperwork. Then I flopped in my chair and flipped through the pages. I don’t know how he can keep a lid on his excitement, except he’s the kind of person who’s on to the next potential find as soon as he’s signed the check.

I, on the other hand, love the anticipation even though it drives me crazy. There were two shipments from
Paris and one from Istanbul. Rupert had been to Istanbul? I would love to sit down with him and a recorder and force him to tell me all about his exploits. He has intimate knowledge of all the major flea markets, world-wide.

I fired up my laptop and tracked the shipments on the freight forwarding company
’s website. Two were in New York on U.S. Customs holds. Phooey. Not uncommon and guaranteed to add seven to ten days of wait time. The third, one of the Paris shipments, was on a train barreling through Chicago with a January 2nd estimated date of arrival. What a great reason to come back to work after the holiday.

I leaned back and gazed out of the huge picture window toward the choppy
Columbia River. Shimmery steel with a few white caps. The wind swirled low clouds in all possible shades of gray — pewter, silver, ash, charcoal, slate — hard names for an amorphous substance. They bumped against the mansion and surged over it. It was like watching their underbellies ripple up the window and flow onward. Creepy, I suppose, but I also like to think of clouds as a layer of protection, and they were moving out in double time. An even colder cold front coming.