Diane Vallere - Style & Error 03 - The Brim Reaper by Diane Vallere Page B
Authors: Diane Vallere
Ads: Link
been nothing but nasty since the first time I met him. I think he’s hiding something.”
“Or he’s the assistant director of the museum and he’s under a lot of pressure.”
I knew how Eddie felt, wanting to believe in the honesty of one person connected to his world so it felt a little less scary, but I also knew Thad wasn’t above suspicion. Eddie was still trusting, still expecting the people around him to do what they said they would do. I knew deep down he had questions that would eventually bubble to the surface.
I remembered back in high school, when I stood up for Eddie when he was involved in a cheating scandal. We hadn’t been close friends at the time, him having transferred in halfway through senior year. But I’d seen the whole thing from my seat in the back of the classroom. I’d watched a member of the football team copy Eddie’s test and then accuse Eddie of cheating to protect his scholarship.
I didn’t know what was going down at the museum, but I couldn’t let Eddie take the blame for something he didn’t do.
“I have an idea,” I said. I outlined my plan for the evening, a basic test of Thad’s loyalty to find out if he could be trusted. “Call him back,” I finished, “and set it up.”
I handed the phone to Eddie, who stared at it like it was a newborn alien baby that had been dropped off on his doorstep. After several seconds of concentration, he hit redial. I heard the ringing phone through the handset.
“A little privacy, please?” he said.
I carried Logan into the kitchen and fed him another piece of chicken from my plate. He bit down on the chicken breast and jumped onto the floor, then ran to the corner by the sink and set it down. He sniffed it, and then carried it to the living room.
As he disappeared around the corner, Eddie reappeared. “I don’t know why, but I did what you said.”
“Did he take the bait?”
He nodded. “He’s at the museum. I told him you wanted to come over and get the keys. He said he’d wait for you.”
“I’m on my way.”
I left Eddie at the house while I drove to the museum. The sun hovered above the horizon. I parked in a space at the back of the lot and entered through the back door.
Thad had asked Eddie to meet him in the upstairs gallery space, so I figured now was the perfect time to duck in the opposite direction, down the stairs to the catacombs—the offices for the museum director and staff—and see what I could find on Christian’s desk.
The heavy wooden doors were shut but not locked; someone had turned the bolt on one door so it rested against its partner. I eased my way in and let my eyes adjust to the minimal light so as not to draw attention to myself.
The last time I’d been in this office had been when Dr. Daum was the director of the museum. The desk now belonged to Christian, and it was decidedly neater and better organized than it had been under Dr. Daum’s tenure. The wood had recently been oiled and held the faint scent of lemon. A miniature copy of Rodin’s The Thinker, like the ones in the gift shop Rebecca had been straightening yesterday, served as a paperweight, holding down a pile of notes and memos.
As I leaned closer to see what kind of things Christian kept on his desk, my hand slipped on a leather-bound journal and a few papers from inside fell to the floor. A vacation request and a responsibility sheet on an upcoming luncheon. I scanned the memo for a date and glanced at the computer monitor. A Word document titled “Interest in Hats” was open.
It was a list of names, followed by a city and state: Edith Willoughby, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Charlotte Mann, Princeton, New Jersey; Mildred Manners, Dover, Delaware; Paul Haines, Albany, New York.I scanned the screen. There were twenty names on the list. I didn’t know who these people were, but I grabbed the mouse, pointed and clicked, and moved to the printer while it chugged out a hard copy. I picked the paper off the tray. One of
“Or he’s the assistant director of the museum and he’s under a lot of pressure.”
I knew how Eddie felt, wanting to believe in the honesty of one person connected to his world so it felt a little less scary, but I also knew Thad wasn’t above suspicion. Eddie was still trusting, still expecting the people around him to do what they said they would do. I knew deep down he had questions that would eventually bubble to the surface.
I remembered back in high school, when I stood up for Eddie when he was involved in a cheating scandal. We hadn’t been close friends at the time, him having transferred in halfway through senior year. But I’d seen the whole thing from my seat in the back of the classroom. I’d watched a member of the football team copy Eddie’s test and then accuse Eddie of cheating to protect his scholarship.
I didn’t know what was going down at the museum, but I couldn’t let Eddie take the blame for something he didn’t do.
“I have an idea,” I said. I outlined my plan for the evening, a basic test of Thad’s loyalty to find out if he could be trusted. “Call him back,” I finished, “and set it up.”
I handed the phone to Eddie, who stared at it like it was a newborn alien baby that had been dropped off on his doorstep. After several seconds of concentration, he hit redial. I heard the ringing phone through the handset.
“A little privacy, please?” he said.
I carried Logan into the kitchen and fed him another piece of chicken from my plate. He bit down on the chicken breast and jumped onto the floor, then ran to the corner by the sink and set it down. He sniffed it, and then carried it to the living room.
As he disappeared around the corner, Eddie reappeared. “I don’t know why, but I did what you said.”
“Did he take the bait?”
He nodded. “He’s at the museum. I told him you wanted to come over and get the keys. He said he’d wait for you.”
“I’m on my way.”
I left Eddie at the house while I drove to the museum. The sun hovered above the horizon. I parked in a space at the back of the lot and entered through the back door.
Thad had asked Eddie to meet him in the upstairs gallery space, so I figured now was the perfect time to duck in the opposite direction, down the stairs to the catacombs—the offices for the museum director and staff—and see what I could find on Christian’s desk.
The heavy wooden doors were shut but not locked; someone had turned the bolt on one door so it rested against its partner. I eased my way in and let my eyes adjust to the minimal light so as not to draw attention to myself.
The last time I’d been in this office had been when Dr. Daum was the director of the museum. The desk now belonged to Christian, and it was decidedly neater and better organized than it had been under Dr. Daum’s tenure. The wood had recently been oiled and held the faint scent of lemon. A miniature copy of Rodin’s The Thinker, like the ones in the gift shop Rebecca had been straightening yesterday, served as a paperweight, holding down a pile of notes and memos.
As I leaned closer to see what kind of things Christian kept on his desk, my hand slipped on a leather-bound journal and a few papers from inside fell to the floor. A vacation request and a responsibility sheet on an upcoming luncheon. I scanned the memo for a date and glanced at the computer monitor. A Word document titled “Interest in Hats” was open.
It was a list of names, followed by a city and state: Edith Willoughby, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Charlotte Mann, Princeton, New Jersey; Mildred Manners, Dover, Delaware; Paul Haines, Albany, New York.I scanned the screen. There were twenty names on the list. I didn’t know who these people were, but I grabbed the mouse, pointed and clicked, and moved to the printer while it chugged out a hard copy. I picked the paper off the tray. One of
Similar Books
