Sherlock and Me (The Case of the Starry Night) Page 3

  Marvin. He must be eighty, if he’s a day. Not that I have anything against senior citizens, but not all his wires are connecting these days. As assistant manager, I try to keep people doing their jobs and that makes my job impossible. It would be easier to run a circus.

  “Marvin.”

  “Hey, Lucy. How are you today?”

  “Fine. You already asked me that about ten minutes ago… But never mind. Were you just cleaning out theatre two?”

  “Just on my way.”

  “Well, leave it for now. I need you to take tickets for a while. Bobby hasn’t come in yet and Megan is working the candy counter.”

  “Where’s Bobby?

  “And that, Marvin, is the question of the day. I have no idea. All I know is that he’s not here right now. I try to stay out of everyone’s private lives.”

  Marvin’s face puckered a little. Was that a smile creeping out?

  “Sure, I’ll take tickets, Lucy. If that’s what you need me to do.”

  “Thanks.” I watched him walk away. He seemed to drag a foot and was slower than ever-lovin’ molasses. His gray hair hadn’t been combed in a few days and I’m glad we issue shirts for employees to wear. The one he’d worn in today had a few holes in it – I realize he’s not rich. He told me once he also worked as a docent at the art museum. Maybe he’s more energetic than he looks.

  A few people were already beginning to line up by his post because he was taking so long to get there. I really do commiserate with the plight of the elderly, but Marvin pushes the envelope sometimes. I couldn’t watch him anymore and went over to help Megan try to get organized.

  And then there’s Megan…

  “Hey, Lucy!”

  I walked behind the concession counter and glanced at her. She’s added a new bright pink to the rainbow of colors in her hair. The pink seemed to take center stage today but clashed a bit with the neon green nose ring. Or is it brass? I shook my head and got out my key to open the cash register.

  “Megan. Love the new color.”

  She beamed and smoothed her hair back. “I know! Doesn’t it just set off my complexion nicely?”

  “Absolutely, Megan. You’re a kaleidoscope of colors today.”

  She blinked a few times. “…A kaleidoscope? Really? Great word. I’ll have to use that in a poem tonight.”

  Megan was in a group of people who sat around the local coffee shop, reciting their poetry to one another. I’d sat in on one of those recitations once and had desperately needed a shot of whiskey afterward. The poems were either fluffy and frothy, or downright depressing – man’s take on man. I finally did leave to hit the pub next door.

  She started putting popcorn seeds into the heated popper and the smell of melting butter filled the air. I straightened up some of the boxes of candy that were jumbled. Must be tidy, Kevin says.

  Speaking of Kevin… He took the day off to visit his lawyer. I think he and his wife are having trouble… That’s the rumor anyway and I’m sure not going to ask him. I’ve got my hands full with my own troubles.

  An hour went by and Bobby finally dragged himself in. He looked like crap – wrinkled clothes, uncombed hair. What was that smell? Had he showered recently? Don’t think so.

  “Sorry I’m late, Lucy.” He came behind the counter and started to work.

  “Nope. Join me in the office, Bobby.”

  I marched him out giving Megan a backward glance that said, ‘Take over for a few minutes.’ She shrugged and stepped over to help a customer.

  When we were safely in the office and the door discreetly closed, I turned to him. “Bobby, what’s the big idea? You’re over an hour late! And is your dialing finger broken? Couldn’t you have called me if you had a problem?”

  Bobby hung his head and shuffled his feet. His overall picture was one of constant change – spotty complexion, mismatched shoes… was his shirt inside out? Good grief. He made hobos look bad. Was that blue paint on his cheek?

  “Did you just hop out of bed somewhere and run into work? You need to take more pride with your appearance, Bobby. This is a place of business.”

  So sayeth the tee shirt and jeans queen…

  “Yeah, I know, Lucy. Sorry. I was painting all night and just lost track of time. I fell asleep on my palette.”

  “You fell asleep on a pallet? Like a straw mattress?”

  “No, a palette – like painters use to mix their colors on.”

  “Okay…fine. Whatever. I just need you to shower before work, so you look relatively normal to customers.” I tried not to stress the word relatively.

  “Thanks, Lucy. I’ll set an alarm clock next time.”

  “Great, now get a shirt from the box over in the corner. I keep extras just in case and head to the bathroom to wash the paint off your face. Then I need you to take over ticket collection from Marvin. You know he hates to collect tickets.”

  “Sure, Lucy, sure.” Bobby exuberantly grabbed a shirt and dashed out the door. “Thanks!” he called out over his shoulder.

  What was I supposed to do? Fire him? Nah, I’d only have to hire someone else. Interviewing prospective employees and chewing broken glass were two things I tried not to do in life. Talk about a nightmare…

  I glanced around the theater and everything appeared to be going smoothly – for the moment. Megan was being polite to customers at the concession stand, always tricky for her, and Bobby had already taken over ticket collection. He was smiling and looked fresh-scrubbed. Where was Marvin? Hopefully not snoozing in the utility closet again. He’d better be running a projector somewhere. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and headed back into the office to find our Lost and Found box.

 

  And there it was, sticking out of the box, that pointed display of swirling blues and yellows tucked in with clothing, shoes and other discarded items. I couldn’t even begin to fathom why someone would leave a pair of shoes at a movie theater, but I’ve seen weirder…

  I plucked out the umbrella and held it up. It was beautiful and looked new. Throwing caution to the wind, I opened it fully to take a good look. And there, dangling from the handle was a little paper price tag. I held it, read the printed price and name. Name! Yay! It was from the Nevada Museum of Art, our downtown art museum, just a few blocks over.

  Well, this was easier than I’d imagined. No mystery here… I’ll just call up the museum and see if they have a record of who purchased the umbrella. There was a number on the tag and maybe the museum kept records – Especially if a credit card was used.

  Since everything was fine at the theater – for the moment – I looked up the museum’s number on my smart phone and punched it in. While waiting for someone to pick up, I looked at the messy office. I hope Kevin’s neater at home than in the office. What a disaster! Reports were stacked on a desk that needed dusting desperately. No clear places on the floor to walk since posters, placards and all kinds of movie displays, large and small, were everywhere. Some should be sent back to the movie distribution companies and others needed to be assembled. We really could use a better system here. Maybe I should…

  “Nevada Museum of Art. May I help you?”

  “Yes, I found one of your Van Gogh umbrellas and would like to return it.”

  “Oh, you need Sue O’Dell. She runs the gift shop and does most of the ordering for various exhibits.”

  “Fine. May I speak to her?”

  “I’ll switch you over. Have a nice day!” sang the voice over the wire.

  In a moment, someone picked up.

  “Gift shop.”

  “Hi. This is Lucy James and I’m the assistant manager at the downtown theater. We found an umbrella of yours left behind in one of our screening rooms and would like to return it to its owner.”

  “Which umbrella?”

  “…Well, it’s new. The price tag’s still on and it’s decorated with Van Gogh’s Starry Night.”

  “…’Starry Night’ you say?”

&n
bsp; I heard a tiny gasp.

  “Is yours the movie theater on the river?”

  “Yes. Century at the River…”

  “Did you say you’re Lucy James?”

  “Yep…”

  “…I’ll be right down…” And she hung up.

  Startled, I stood there stupidly with the phone still up to my ear, listening to a dial tone. What?

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  By the time Sue arrived, I was about to tear out my hair. I’d just settled a dispute between Megan and a customer. Apparently, he was an old boyfriend of hers and she was close to making a big, fat scene. Quieting her down and placating the ex-boyfriend took my mind briefly off the fact that I couldn’t find Marvin again. Where did that man go? His hiding places were becoming infamous. Bobby and some new guy Kevin hired were doing a few jobs apiece and I was going to rag Marvin something fierce when I found him!

  I turned around in a huff to see a slim woman about forty coming in the front door. She walked up to Megan… Nice business suit. Killer heels.

  “Lucy James?”

  That pissed me off right away. Megan stifled a smile and pointed a finger at me.

  She stuck out a manicured hand. Nice looking watch and expensive rings. Professional attitude.

  I nodded, shaking her hand. “That’s me.”

  “Sue O’Dell from the art museum. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

  “Sure. This way.” I waved a hand toward the office with Private written on the door across the reception area of the theater. Uh-oh. I cocked my head, wondering what the heck this was about. Only one way to find out…

  We went into the office and I tossed a few posters off a chair for her. Sue didn’t look impressed and perched tentatively on the edge of the chair. I picked up the umbrella and handed it to her. She took a good long look at it, as I leaned against the desk and gave her my full attention.

  “That umbrella was stolen.”

  Wow. And how do you do too. No preamble, just out with it.

  “Okay. So?”

  “It was stolen the night of that rain we had. Do you remember – a few nights ago?”

  “… And I have to ask again: so?”

  “I discovered it missing the very next morning and scoured the museum looking for it. I even called in the security guards who, despite their title, never seem to secure anything.”

  I bit my tongue trying not to make a comment. This was obviously a sore subject of hers. Clearing my throat, I tried again.

  “Miss O’Dell…”

  “Sue.”

  “All right, Sue. I fail to see what…”

  “It’s an expensive umbrella, Miss James.”

  “… Call me Lucy.”

  “It’s just that I know it was there when I locked up for the night and it was missing the next morning.”

  “And your security staff didn’t report a problem?”

  “No, but I think they’re part of the problem. Do you mind if I take this from the top?”

  “I wish you would, Sue. I’m pretty confused – and what does it all have to do with this theater?”

  “I’ll get back to that.”

  “…Okay.”

  We spoke for about fifteen minutes. A new Impressionist art exhibit was at the museum now and things weren’t going well. A very wealthy family owned the paintings in the exhibition and loaned them out from time to time to various museums around the country. One of the family members usually accompanied the exhibition and an art historian came along to give talks and lectures about the art. Apparently, Sue was hosting the historian and showing him around town a little.

  But museum management was tense, she said, because the family had hired their own security people. It wasn’t standard procedure and was the talk of the staff, but whenever the subject was brought up, the head curator was quickly shut down. It was unthinkable, a family representative declared, that anyone but their own guards be allowed near the paintings.

  It was an expensive and impressive exhibition filled with one Van Gogh, one Renoir, two Manets, one Monet and three Cezannes. The museum had never been offered such a fabulous exhibit before and was thrilled they’d been chosen. Naturally, everyone acquiesced to the demands of the family who owned the art.

  “What’s the family’s name?”

  “Sandstrom. They’re a wealthy family with many art connections up in Wisconsin. The family rep is Warren Sandstrom III and prefers to be called sir.”

  “Sue. I appreciate that you’ve taken me into your confidence about the exhibition, but I fail to understand why. Could you enlighten me?”

  “Yes. I know your name from the former mayor’s office, where I used to work. You’re the Lucy James who cleared up the blackmail case a few years back, aren’t you?”

  I nodded and wondered where this was all going.

  “… Well, I don’t have any proof, just a gut feeling that keeps nagging at me. There’s something wrong at the museum and I’d like to hire you to find out what it is.”

  I threw my hands out in front of me. “Hold on, Sue. I’m not a detective or whatever you think I am. You need a license for that type of thing. I’m the assistant manager of this movie theater.” I literally backed away from her.

  She shook her head. “…That’s not what the mayor said or the cops who investigated and came up with nothing. They were impressed with your work and so were we. And I need an outsider – someone unknown to do the kind of snooping around that I feel this is going to take.”

  I plopped quickly and unexpectedly in the desk chair. My mouth dropped open until I finally thought to close it. My mind was trying to understand what she had just said.

  “…Um.”

  “It may have been a fluke that the umbrella ended up in your movie theater, but Lucy… no one but you… would have taken the time to find out where it came from or who owned it.” She narrowed her eyes. “…Isn’t that correct?”

  Damn… I couldn’t believe my ears. Mr. Warner gives me the hat. Cindy gives me the coat and now Sue O’Dell comes out of the blue to give me a big push. I blinked and leaned back in the chair. Maybe my stars were all in alignment. Too bad I don’t believe in astrology…

  My mouth was extraordinarily dry…

  “Sue. I still don’t have a license. I’d have to be more like Nancy Drew and just get in everyone’s way.”

  “… I don’t care – Doesn’t matter...” Sue paused and thought a moment. “Okay, so I can’t hire you. Maybe, if you clear up whatever this is, the museum could do something for you in exchange. I’m on the board. I’ll help arrange … a… barter.”

  She cocked her head at me. A slow smile spread across her face, like a snake crossing the road…

  “Like what?”

  “What do you want?”

  Wow…I’ve never been offered a blank check before. What do I want?

  I looked at her for a full minute while words and thoughts whirled through my mind at top speed.

  “Do you have a business card, Sue? I’m going to have to give this a thoughtful going-over and get back to you.”

  She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to me. She stood up quickly.

  “…Don’t take too long. The exhibition is only going to be in town for two weeks and we’re a few days into that first week.”

  “Less than two weeks?” I choked on my own saliva and coughed. “You need an answer immediately then.”

  “Yes,” she said heading for the door. “I need your answer by tomorrow.” She reached for the doorknob and looked back at me. “I’m serious about all this, Lucy. I think you’re the right man for the job.”

  And she left. I stood up quickly knocking over several movie displays and countless posters. What just happened? I couldn’t wait to tell Cindy and Mr. Warner. Maybe they were right. That means I might not need that fortune-teller after all…

  * * *

  “Well? You’re going to take the case, right?”

/>   “I just don’t know, Cindy. I’m not a detective, remember.”

  “No, but you figure things out and that’s what she wants.”

  I glanced around at the small bar. Just around the corner from the movie theater, it resembled an old English pub. Wood everywhere, beautiful old mirror behind a well stocked bar, cricket rackets on a wall and stained glass windows separating sections of the room. Huge oak barrels sat on a shelf close to the ceiling and an old metal chandelier perched precariously overhead with diffused lighting from hanging pale globes. It was my favorite bar in town because it didn’t appeal to the college or preppy crowd – So it appealed to me. I liked the laid back approach to having a drink and not wanting crowds of people pushing at me while I enjoy it… It was after work now and I was beginning to relax.

  I looked back at Cindy. She had asked the question and I was supposed to have the answer.

  I took a sip of the stout ale I’d ordered and munched on a peanut from a tray on the table.

  “Peanut?” I offered her one.

  “Nope.”

  Cindy pushed back some blonde hair that had fallen in her face and rolled her eyes at me.

  “…You’re stalling.”

  “Of course, I’m stalling. I don’t have an answer for you.”

  “…Listen…”

  “I talked to Marvin today.”

  She blinked, probably surprised at my quick subject change. “What on earth about? I can’t believe you found him. Where had he disappeared to this time?” Cindy was interested in all the weird little goings-on at the theater. Broke the monotony from her tony job, I’m sure.

  “He was curled up, you won’t believe this, in one of the projection booths.” I popped another peanut in my mouth.

  Cindy laughed and laughed. “What’d you do?”

  “…After I woke him up, I reminded him that he was supposed to be working and it was a jolly good thing that it was me who woke him instead of Kevin.”

  “Kevin would have fired him?”

  “Sure…”

  “… But…”

  “He had a funny look on his face. When I asked if he was all right, he said Sue O’Dell had come in the door and he knew her from the art museum. He’s a docent there, remember…”

  “Yeah,” she took another sip of her drink. “Wonder if he stays awake at that job.”