Chafer - Mayhem in May

MAYHEM IN MAY

ACalendar Mystery

CAMILLACHAFER

Mayhem in May

Copyright: Camilla Chafer

Published: July 2019

ISBN:978-1-909577-22-0

The rightof Camilla Chafer to be identified as author of this Work has beenasserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of theCopyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Allrights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means,electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwisetransmitted without written permission from the publisher. You mustnot circulate this book in any format.

Visit the author online at www.camillachafer.com tosign up to her mailing list and for more information on othertitles.

Calendar Mysteries

Jeopardyin January

Fear inFebruary

Murder inMarch

Alibi inApril

Mayhem inMay

Contents

Mayhem in May

TessHernandez knew her promotion to manager of Calendars Town Museumwas in the bag right up until the moment the board appointed oneof their members spoiled nephew, Lance, the position instead.Despite her shock, Tess is determined to show shes still the bestperson for the job, after all Lance did steal her ideas! So whenLance is found dead on the opening night of the new exhibition Tesscurated, all signs point to Tess as the culprit. After all, shebadly wanted him gone. But was she the only one?

Worriedthat shell be arrested any moment, single mom Tess is determinedto bring the real killer to justice and uncover the secrets shefears Lance has taken with him to the grave.

Chapter One

With a strong tap on the send key, I answered the last email of the day.Resting back in my desk chair, I smiled. I could finally look upfrom my computer. I rolled my shoulders to ease the small kinksthat burrowed in as I surveyed my office. The square room wasn'thuge since it occupied a small corner of Calendar Town Museum'seast wing but it was stuffed with all kinds of interesting thingsI'd collected. Books and journals, plus small artifacts andtrinkets that I acquired over the years. They filled thefloor-to-ceiling bookcases along with catalogs and pamphlets of allour exhibitions. A big rug, faded and threadbare in places, coveredthe polished wood floor. The esoteric clutter befitted my positionas Tess Hernandez, Deputy Manager. All I needed was a tweed skirtsuit and a monocle to complete the look.

It wasstrange to think that in just a few minutes, my promotion toManager would be official. I could hardly keep it off my mind allday. Maybe even the past two months ever since my boss and goodfriend, Artie Wright announced his retirement after thirty yearsserving in that capacity. During my ten years under his wing, I wasconvinced he'd never retire. I even joked he had practically becomean exhibit after so long. Then two months ago, Artie calledtogether the museum's small team and told us his intention to leavein May. After the stunned silence came the applause andcongratulations, and after that, he pulled me to one side andconfided he recommended me to the board and assumed my replacinghim was a done deal.

A knocksounded on my door and I straightened up just as Karen Lambertstuck her head in. The museum's information clerk beamed andpinched her shoulders together in excitement. "Have you officiallygotten the promotion yet?" she asked, her shiny, brown bob swingingaround her chin. Karen covered all the PR work: manning thereception desk, taking ticket sales, answering phone calls andstocking the foyer with all the information any curious visitormight need. With her warm, bubbly personality, she was the perfectperson to deal with the local Calendar residents and the thousandsof tourists that flocked to our quaint mountain town. Like me,she'd worked at the museum for years and loved it every bit as muchas I did. I was glad to count her as my friend too.

I shookmy head. "I'm going to see the board in a few minutes."

"Youmust be thrilled. I expect your promotion will be announced at theexhibition opening tonight," she replied, still smiling.

"Maybe,but I wouldn't want to take any of the limelight away from Artie.This is his last exhibition and his party. He deserves all theattention."

"Everybody knows it was you who did all the hard work,calling in loans for the pieces and writing all the informationguides," said Karen.

"But itwas still Artie's idea," I countered. Karen was right; I did theheavy lifting for the exhibition but Artie was there every step ofthe way, giving his praise and criticism in balance. Plus, it washis idea.

"Yourhumility is why we all love you," grinned Karen. "I have to getback to the desk and finish putting out the brochures for theupcoming season. I will see you at the opening in an hour. With allthe RSVPs, it's going to be a great party atmosphere. Hope youbrought your best dress!"

"It'shanging behind the door," I said, pointing to the garment bag justpeeking out.

"Are thegirls coming too?"

I shookmy head. "Leah and Brooke said they didn't want to hang out withtheir mom's fuddy-duddy friends. They opted for an evening ofNetflix and all the ice cream they can sneak out of the freezerwithout my noticing. Besides, they've heard enough about thisexhibition to feel like they've seen it a hundred timesalready."

"I guessI'll know what they think when they come in on the weekend. Leahhas been such a help. All the tourists love her."

"I'll besure to tell her that. And thanks again for giving her a Saturdayjob. She's very proud to earn her own money," I added, recalling myolder daughter's beaming face when she confirmed Karen had hiredher. Of course, I knew all about it and despite the fact she was mydaughter, I was sure she got the job on her own merit. Plus, itwould look great on her college applications in a few years time.Being a single mom has been a struggle over the years, and I couldbarely believe I've almost raised my girls to adulthood. As for theidea of an empty nest... I couldn't even contemplate it!

Karengave me a thumbs-up. "I can't wait to celebrate with you later,"she said. The sound of a door opening and closing nearby made herlook over her shoulder into the corridor. When she turned back tome, she pulled a face. "It's Lance," she mouthed. "I better go!"She waggled her fingers and pulled the door closed behind her, herfootsteps hurrying away. I couldn't blame her. Our colleague, LanceFleming, was not only a feckless jerk but he seemed to relish beingone. The board hired him six months ago as the Marketing andPartnerships Manager, a role they invented to increase the museum'spublicity and standing, as well as fundraise. That is the only waywe can keep the doors open. In those six months, Lance did as muchwhining and moaning about the job as he spent actually performinghis duties. Although he had a couple of "wins," I wasn't convincedhe was the ideal man for the role since I heard through thegrapevine that he managed to raise the hackles of several importantloyal donors. Each time, I stepped in for damage control but ifLance carried on the way he was, I would have to report him to theboard before he caused any serious reputation damage that wouldfollow our small museum for years.

I wasn'tsurprised when another knock sounded at my door a moment later.Without waiting, Lance opened it and stepped inside. He pushed backhis boyish sweep of blond hair and smiled a big, white Hollywoodsmile. "It's always so cozy in here," he said, looking around."Really brings to mind that expression. What is it now? Oh, yes.Can't swing a cat!"

"Can Ihelp you?" I asked, instead of rising to the bait he invariablyattempted to cast. I didn't see any reason to defend my cozy,cluttered office. If Lance didn't like it, he knew where the doorwas. And if it smacked him on the ass on the way out? Not myproblem!

"WasKaren supposed to be away from the front desk? I don't recall herresponsibilities extending to her visiting the office suites," hecontinued.