Adduné - the Vampire's Game (14 page)

Justin’s young face appeared around the corner. He stood scratching his head. He let out a long whistle. “Don’t think we brought one that big.”

“
Sure we do. That big rectangular box in the back of the second van. Should fit it just fine,” Sy countered.

“
But why we packin’ it? Isn’t it already packed?” Herbie asked. He wondered if he should be questioning anything since it was all built upon a lie.

“
It ain’t packed until it’s packed by us, Herb!”

Sy gave Herb a wink and a pat on the shoulder.

Justin looked suspiciously at Sy. “But it’s a coffin, sir. Don’t those usually just get buried and not shipped?”

Sy looked at Herb as they both broke into hearty laughter.

“
Indeed they do, son. Indeed they do!” roared Sy as Herb breathed a sigh of relief.

He saw nothing wrong with the old coffin taking a trip abroad if it meant saving his job. In fact, a trip might just do it a world of good for both of them. The farther he was away from that thing, the better.

CHAPTER 7

Rachel Abbott stood like a sentry – notebook in hand – on the steps outside Fairfield museum. She was poised to assiduously check-off the newly arrived exhibit pieces before they entered the ornately carved doors. She watched, scrupulously making sure each piece was carefully unloaded by the workers dressed in white. The skilled, specially-trained movers knew the importance of what they were handling and took great pains to lift, and set-down the testaments to history with as little jostling as possible. It was the Perry’s moving company, and the Perry’s only dealt with the best. From what Rachel knew, they were also the most expensive.

Rachel was happy to have this insider’s knowledge. It made her job that much easier. Any onlooker ignorant of their qualifications might have mistaken them for run-of-the-mill movers routinely hired to transport pots and pans. A viewing of the shipment wouldn’t have told them any differently. Packaged in their austere wooden casings, the treasures hid their celebrity and appeared as common attic clutter. The special wrappings required to make this trip stripped the priceless artifacts of their beauty, and relegated them to being lumped in with the worthless junk that every family, too busy with the daily grind, allowed to accumulate. When the family relocated, the clutter went right along with them proving the old adage, “It’s easier to move junk than it is to throw it away.”

Rachel well knew the hidden price tag attached to these valuable objects and was making damned sure every item on the list that Reginald Charles had supplied was there. More importantly, she had to confirm that the exhibit pieces had survived the journey intact. She knew that once she signed-off on the delivery, it would be the museum’s responsibility to replace any missing or damaged items. While insurance would cover the cost, she didn’t intend to take it that far. Familiar with the concept about an ounce of prevention being worth a pound of cure, she was insisting that more than a soup
Ç
on of finesse was used. While this was partly due to her applying a professional yardstick, it was more wedded to the fact she worked for a boss that was a loose cannon. He became positively unhinged by the slightest jarring. Having the museum’s insurance rates rise because she overlooked a partially unwrapped package was just the sort of thing that would cause him to go ballistic. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, imagining the brutality of such an upbraiding were it to occur. She’d seen him chew out fellow employees for much less, and Rachel could feel her turn was next. He was just looking for an excuse to tell her off. She didn’t know where the friction between them had started, but it seemed to be present from the beginning. She had been hired by his predecessor, but only just. She’d been onboard for two short months when Jake Monroe took over. It was hardly time for her to have developed loyalty to the outgoing administration. Still, she couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation for the hostility. She gave up looking for a cause and now only accepted it as a reality – she knew she was being watched. She was a meticulous and detailed worker and didn’t deserve his evil eye. Rather than dwell on life’s unfairness, she took extra pains to ensure he found nothing wrong. She left no openings for him to wedge his toe in. She intended to stay in the category marked “beyond reproach.”

Rachel watched the process unfold and grow into the proportion of a giant beehive. It made her job of monitoring the increased activity tricky. She didn’t want to slow them down all because she needed more time to assimilate and document what was taking place. She knew the breadth and scope of the duties she had been assigned and also knew that it was a two-person job. Jake was being an ass in letting her handle the entire affair. It was just another way to set her up for failure, but she wouldn’t let him get to her that easily. While she took her responsibilities as museum archivist seriously, she was single-handedly being ordered to oversee and catalog the largest exhibition that Fairfield Museum of the Arts had ever presented. It was well beyond her job description and duties, but here she was doing it anyway – carrying all the pressure. There was so much riding on this. Some of the biggest names in the art world had been invited to the premiere which was less than a month away. That meant that unusually attentive care needed to be taken in archiving every item so that the museum technicians could get on with constructing the displays. The short of it meant that she not impede the progress by restraining it. She’d just have to keep up with the blistering pace. She wondered if that was what Jake really wanted – to push her to the point she was forced into making a mistake. He’d made remarks about her being a “slow, methodical plodder.” She didn’t appreciate the disparaging assessment. She used care in dealing with things. Was that really so wrong? It seemed it irritated him and perhaps now was the chance for him to use a cattle prod on her. Rachel determined it didn’t matter. She’d agreed to this and she was going to make sure nothing – not one little insignificant smidgen of anything – got lost in the shuffle.

The jumpsuited movers paused for a moment in front of her before entering the building. While it looked as if they were paying homage to a queen, they were only allowing her to inspect the labeled hangtags that had been attached to each of the packing crates. While it was her job to be particular, it was also her way of saying, “Thank you,” to Miranda Perry for giving Fairfield this honor. If Rachel – and Fairfield – lived up to Miranda’s expectations, it would pave the way for other small museums to receive the same kind of honor. Rachel was not about to disappoint anyone. She let her suspicions about the young Perry’s intentions creep into her mind. Would her whole philosophy about making art available to the world change if something were to happen? She suspected that it would. Miranda Perry seemed like nothing more than a spoiled heiress that would get her mind spun around by much less. She wondered if she were being unfair – and at the moment – didn’t care. Her mind wandered back to Jake.

She’d heard rumors that Miranda had a different outlook and temperament than her father. The same could be said about Jake Monroe. He thought differently from any of his predecessors, and most of the employees at Fairfield Museum. Jake was young, bold, and determined. It was Jake that had contacted Miranda Perry, and it was Jake that let out the whoop and holler when he read her approving reply. At the time, Rachel wasn’t sure what to think. While she was thrilled about the opportunity, she was uneasy about the tactics used. She had a queasy feeling that something more lascivious had forged the agreement. She knew Jake and had heard all the stories about his lecherous adventures. She’d witnessed first-hand his taking certain advantages of his extraordinarily good looks to get what he wanted. It included putting a hand where it didn’t belong. She had hoped those types of liberties didn’t extend to Miranda Perry, and that it was business and not pleasure that had sealed the deal. She hated to think that all this occurred because of a frivolous sexual dalliance.

She checked off number 33 from her list. She was curious about the large crate six workmen were carrying towards her. She didn’t remember any items requiring that sort of packaging. It was big enough to hold a coffin – the workers bearing an eerie resemblance to pallbearers. She scanned her list. She quickly sought out an item that would account for the inordinate size of the outer crating. She couldn’t find anything that would be considered a match. Perhaps several smaller items were inside, but that didn’t make sense either. There weren’t that many unchecked items left. She’d have to refer to the packing slip. She felt a buzzing against her hip. It was the cell phone she had tucked into her pocket. She’d left it on vibrate. She knew she should ignore it, but peeked at the caller ID. She hurriedly accepted the call.

It was the vet’s office. Her beloved cat, Velvet, was having a fast-growing tumor removed. She was waiting to hear about the operation and whether it was successful. More importantly, she was anxious to learn whether the tumor was benign. When she answered, she was horrified to learn that the worst case scenario had become a reality. Velvet’s tumor was cancerous and had metastasized. The doctor, Sara Puhlman, calmly explained that the entire growth couldn’t be excised without doing fatal damage to the cat’s internal organs. In other words, they had left the malignancy inside her cat’s belly to spread.

Rachel felt herself give way. She felt helpless and wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Velvet, but according to the prognosis, that’s what she was going to have to do. Even with radiation treatments, Velvet was given only 3-6 months to live. The only good news was that Velvet was resting comfortably and that Rachel could bring him home tomorrow. Rachel reluctantly hung up – she had so many more questions. She doubted Dr. Puhlman would be able to give her the answers. Dr. Puhlman was a vet – not God. She’d done what she could – or had she? Rachel had always brought Velvet in for regular check-ups. It left a nagging concern as to why the tumor hadn’t been detected until it was too late. Incompetence and a complete disregard for her pet’s life was the only reason she could come up with. She hoped she was wrong.

She turned around and saw the foreman waiting for her. Christ, she’d been so distracted that she’d not only wandered off, but had turned her back on the crew. She had no idea what had occurred in the few short minutes that she’d taken her eyes off things. Why was he standing there with a clipboard in his hands? And why were the rest of the workers standing around talking as if they were done? Was he expecting her to sign off on a job before completion?

She rushed back to where she’d been standing before taking the call, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

“
Ms. Abbott, if you could just sign here.”

“
Sign? Sign what?” she grabbed the clipboard and saw it was the standard release form.

He did want her to sign-off on the entire shipment. Was he crazy? If she signed it, it would mean everything had been delivered and in proper order.

“
Wait a minute! There were three more items that were supposed to be delivered!” she gruffly insisted as she looked through her checklist. “Yes, number 23, number 14, and 36.”

“
Yes, ma’am, we saved the larger for last. They’re all in there,” he said pointing to the interior of the museum.

“
You mean, you took them downstairs?”

“
Yes, ma’am, just like we were supposed to do.”

“
You were supposed to wait until I checked-off the numbers first! Remember? I was going to stand here and you were going to wait until …”

The foreman was clearly getting upset. He shifted his weight as she talked. He ran his thumb against the lines of irritation forming in his forehead.

“
And that’s what we tried to do,” he interrupted. “But you weren’t where you were supposed to be, now were you? What were we supposed to do? Hold up the delivery? We had no idea when – or if – you’d decide to return.”

Rachel bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. He was right – she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She was taking a call – a personal call. Jake would be furious if he found out she’d done that. He could take calls from anyone he wanted, as well as come in late and leave early, but his employees? They were expected to have no lives – well, no lives outside of working for the museum. He even got angry when emergencies involved family members. She could imagine how he’d react to the dereliction of duty occurring because of a mere cat.

The workman seemed to sense the stress Rachel was under, or maybe he read it in her face. Either way, he softened his demeanor and smiled. He put his hand on her arm in a paternal way and not the way Jake did. With Jake it meant that either you were his property or that he was trying to cop a feel.

“
Ms. Abbott?” he said as he looked into her extraordinarily large, dark blue eyes. They complemented her dark brown hair beautifully. He hated to see a young, nice girl like this under this much pressure. He was frankly surprised she was the only one handling such a huge project. He’d thought originally that someone must have called in sick leaving her to bear the brunt of this responsibility, but now? Now he thought someone had placed her in a very awkward position indeed. And she had done a yeoman’s job until she took one measly phone call and wandered away. He knew how it was with some places and how phone calls were frowned upon. Superiors thought the outside world stopped revolving during work hours. He’d worked under bosses like that. They didn’t want his wife and four children to exist during business hours. As if you can make families and personal lives appear and disappear on cue.