Scone Cold Dead (19 page)

“We haven't talked about the future,” he said. “She decided to stay here. She bought into her aunt's shop. I figured that gave me time to work up to proposing to her.”

“So, you've never mentioned marriage.” Mary sighed and shook her head. “That means she has no idea how serious you are about her.”

“Sure she does. We've spent a lot of time together the last few months.”

“Talking?”

“Some.”

“Not enough, obviously. What's your worst fear?”

“That she'll go back on the road.” He spoke without thinking but he knew as soon as the words were out that what he'd just said was the truth. It wasn't any person he worried about. It was that recent events might take Liss away from him for good. If she chose her old life, or at least a variant of it, over what she'd done for the last few months, then he was shit out of luck.

Mary hoisted the baby out of the chair and whisked him off to be changed and dressed in clean clothes. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Dan knew what he had to do. He didn't have to sell Liss on marrying him. Not yet, anyway. He just had to convince her to stay in Moosetookalook.

“Do me a favor, Mary?”

She sent a suspicious look in his direction, but nodded.

“Give Liss a call and tell her one of the outfits you volunteer for needs a hand.” If she got more involved in the community, she'd have more reason to stick around.

“They always do, but Liss runs a business. She doesn't have a lot of free time. Heck, I'm sure she'd have preferred to play chauffeur for the dancers herself last weekend, but she couldn't get away from the Emporium.” She paused for a beat. “Speaking of the dancers, I hear they're still hanging around.”

“Oh yeah. Nine of them are staying in Moosetookalook now, three of them at my house.”

“Hope you didn't get stuck with Fiona Carlson.”

“No, she's in Margaret Boyd's apartment. When did you meet Fiona?”

“She's the one who called me for rides. Saturday
and
Sunday. And she was in a big hurry to get to town both times and very fussy about where she was dropped off, too. You'd think, if it was that important to her to get back downtown right away, that she'd have stayed at the motel instead of out at the cabins.”

“She wasn't rude to you, was she?”

“No. Just impatient and preoccupied. And she wasn't too thrilled to share the car with Jason.” She grinned down at the baby, who was tugging on a lock of her hair.

Since the aroma drifting Dan's way from Jason's diaper at that moment was not only unpleasant but pungent, his sympathy was with Fiona.

 

 

The cozy corner at Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium was perfect for a private conversation, especially on a slow Thursday. Liss supplied coffee and cookies and curled up in her favorite chair, waving Cal MacBain into the one that sat kitty-corner to it. She'd hear the bell if anyone came in, but she was counting on the usual lack of business to allow her an uninterrupted chat with her former dance partner.

“So, Cal, what am I missing?”

“Your career?”

She made a face at him. “Besides that. Things have changed since I left the company. There wasn't so much contention before. Was there?”

“Maybe you just weren't aware of it.”

“We all practically live together on the road. How could I have missed it?”

“Rose-colored glasses? Face it, Liss, you're an optimist from the word go. You were totally oblivious to Victor's interest in you until he actually propositioned you.”

“That did take me by surprise.”

“It shouldn't have.”

“But he wasn't mean about it when I turned him down. There were no threats. He changed, Cal. The Victor I knew wouldn't have tried to blackball Sarah or claim he was going to replace Zara with Emily. He was ill, you know. Taking medication.”

“So I heard.”

“That can cause personality changes, right?”

“Right. Damn fool. He could have told us. Victor was never the most popular person in the company, but we've always been there for each other. We'd have . . . I don't know . . .
supported
him somehow. Nobody wanted him dead, Liss. Nobody.”

“But
somebody
killed him.” Now who had on rose-colored glasses? “I know about his conflicts with Sandy and Zara, and with Stewart, and with Sarah, and how Ray felt about her. Was there anyone else? Someone who might have hidden his or her resentment a little better?”

“Not that I can think of. There was one thing, though.” He stared into space, as if trying to align the facts. “When did Victor find out he was sick? Do you know?”

“I'm not sure, but I got the impression it was shortly after I left the company. Certainly by the time Sarah did.”

“Okay. That tracks. But then, just a few weeks ago, it was like there was a new layer of mean tacked on top of the surliness we'd been seeing. Like he found out something else he wasn't happy about.”

“More health problems? Maybe the medicine wasn't working right.”

“All I know is that he got so he'd stare at people, watching them in case they . . . I don't know—were going to run off or something. He'd come around to each room, claim he was just making sure there were no problems, but it felt like a bed check.” Cal gave a short bark of laughter. “Our company manager had turned into a chaperone on a senior trip. It was as if he was
trying
to catch one of us doing something wrong.”

“Illegal, do you mean? Damn it, Cal. You were supposed to help me find answers to questions, not raise more of them!”

“Sorry, chickie. I got nothing. Maybe Emily knows more.”

Liss grimaced. Emily. The one person she had not talked to about Victor's death. She'd been unable to question her at first because Emily had taken off. Later, Liss had let a mixture of pity and personal dislike get in the way of questioning Victor's most recent lady friend.

“How do you feel about being a shopkeeper for an hour or so?” she asked Cal. Emily was upstairs in Aunt Margaret's apartment and Fiona and Winona were not. Winona had a tooth that had been bothering her and Fiona had driven her into Fallstown to visit a dentist.

“Go get her, girl,” Cal said.

Chapter Fourteen

L
iss climbed the stairs slowly, her reluctance to talk to Emily growing with every step.
Get over it
, she told herself. It was childish to resent Emily Townsend because she now danced the part Liss herself had once performed. And it was unfair to the young woman to hold her relationship with Victor against her. After all, as Zara had said, Victor could be charming.

It was, Liss decided, what Serena had said about Emily that stuck in her craw. Had Emily really been intimate with Victor only to advance her career with
Strathspey
at a faster pace? That sounded so “Hollywood Babylon.” Surely sensible modern women didn't still try to sleep their way to the top, especially when the “top” wasn't all that high.

That Emily had been bored with Victor was easier to believe. Perhaps she'd entered into the relationship because she'd genuinely liked him and then had found it difficult to disentangle herself. Would that have provided her with a strong enough motive to kill him?

Give her the benefit of the doubt
, Liss told herself as she entered the apartment. She was prepared to bend over backward—a trick she could actually manage, even after all these months away from dancing—to be fair to Emily Townsend. But she wanted answers.

“Emily?” she called.

“In here,” came a faint, lethargic voice from the guest room.

Liss found her sprawled gracefully on one of the twin beds, her forearm draped over her eyes to keep out the sun. “Are you all right, Emily?”

She answered without changing position. “Don't worry, Liss. I haven't taken any more meds. I learned my lesson there.”

Liss sat down on the foot of the bed, forcing Emily to shift her feet. “You really thought those pills of Victor's were tranquilizers?”

“That's what he called them. Well, he called them his ‘magic pills' and said they calmed him right down, so I assumed they were Valium or something like that. I didn't know he was sick. He never said a word.”

“But you knew about his allergy.”

“Oh yes. Everyone did.” Shifting her arm, she peeked at Liss from beneath. “What is it you really want to know?”

“How did you get Victor's pills? You weren't sharing a room.”

“I had the pill bottle in my purse. It was bulky and he asked me to carry it for him until after the reception.”

Liss supposed that made sense. “Did you take Victor's pills before or after Detective Tandy talked to you?”

“After. I wasn't all that upset when I thought his death was just a terrible accident.”

“In fact, you were probably relieved.”

Offended, Emily sat up. “How can you say that?”

“Did you plan to dump him once he gave you Zara's part in the show?”

The faintest wash of pink colored Emily's cheeks. She scooted away from Liss until the headboard stopped her retreat. Her chin quivered. For a moment, Liss thought she might be about to cry. She pouted instead.

“I wasn't going to break up with Victor. Not right away. He would have taken the role away from me again if I'd done that.”

“Do you think he'd have fired you if you broke up with him?”

“Maybe. That's why the split had to be his idea. I figured that once Zara left the company, Victor would hire someone new. Then, being Victor, he'd go after her and leave me alone.” With languid grace she rose from the bed and went to the dresser, sitting in front of it to check her hair. She picked up a brush and put it to use, ruthlessly attacking the snarls her short nap had caused.

Not dumb. Conniving. And perhaps a bit naive. “Did Victor try to use his position with the company to coerce you into doing anything you didn't want to do?”

Emily's titter was even more annoying than usual. “You mean kinky sex? Trust me, Victor wasn't nearly as kinky as he thought he was.”

Hiding her distaste, Liss did not press for details. She wouldn't be able to stomach them. As Emily continued to primp in front of the mirror, Liss wondered what she'd do now that her sugar daddy was gone. Emily Townsend was not a nice person, but she wasn't Victor's killer. There was no profit for her in his death. In fact, she'd suffered a setback. Whoever replaced Victor, especially if the new manager was a woman, would not be likely to fire Zara and give Emily her part in the show.

“Did you notice anything odd about Victor in the last few weeks before his death?” Liss asked. “Was he worried? More difficult? Was it something he did that made you decide to stay at the B-and-B instead of at the motel with him?”

“No, no, no, and no. I just needed a break.”

“Do you know why Victor was so down on Stewart?”

Emily met Liss's eyes in the mirror. “That I can answer. Stewart was too damn clever—and cutting—with all his puns and smart remarks. Victor encouraged him to drink to excess. He was looking for an excuse to fire him.” Emily spun round on the stool in front of the vanity, a smug smile on her face. “Want to know a secret? I don't think Stewart actually drinks that much. He pretends to because a drunk can say anything he wants, no matter how nasty, and get away with it. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised it wasn't Stewart who was murdered.”

 

 

When Gordon Tandy knocked at her door late that evening, Liss eagerly undid the locks. She had been looking forward to talking to him about the bits and pieces of information she'd gathered and she was curious to know what he'd discovered in Victor's apartment.

But the Gordon Tandy who walked into her foyer was not smiling, nor was he alone. A uniformed state trooper followed close at his heels.

“Where's Kalishnakof?”

“Why?” She couldn't read a thing except determination in his set features and cold, dark eyes.

“I'd like a word with him.”

That sounded ominous. “He doesn't have to talk to you if he doesn't want to,” she blurted. She'd learned that much about the law when she'd been suspected of murder.

Gordon gave her a fulminating look. “That's true, but it's also his decision, not yours.”

“He's upstairs. I'll get him.”

“
We'll
get him.” Gordon caught her arm before she could start up the staircase. “Which room?”

Armed with directions, followed by his colleague, he climbed to the second floor, leaving Liss to stare after them from the bottom step.

She heard their footsteps cross the upstairs hall, then a knock on the guest room door and Zara's gasp when she opened it. It shut again with a solid thunk. Liss considered tiptoeing up and pressing her ear to the wood but decided that probably wasn't a good idea. She'd find out soon enough what was going on.

Less than a minute passed—although it seemed an eternity—before Liss heard the door open and close again. Zara came flying down the stairs. “What's going on, Liss? What do the cops want? Why wouldn't they let me stay?”

“I don't know.”

Zara's frightened eyes darted up the stairs. “This isn't good, Liss. I don't know what that detective thinks he knows, but it isn't good. I saw his face—”

A shout from the bedroom cut her off. Then there was more yelling, and a dull thud sounded . . . from outside the house. Seconds later, the uniformed officer pushed past them, heading for the front door.

Although Liss knew at once that a bad situation had just gotten worse, she was slow to put the pieces together. When they finally fell into place, she felt her face drain of color. Then she ran, too, with Zara close behind her. Racing to the back door off the kitchen, she dashed through, pausing only long enough to turn on the outside light but not taking time to put on her boots or her coat.

The room Sandy and Zara shared had a small balcony attached. It was situated directly over Liss's back porch. As Liss started down the two little steps that led to her driveway, Gordon dropped from above, almost landing on top of her.

Zara screamed. Liss managed to hold in all but a muffled gasp, but her heart was pounding as fast as a bass drum keeping double time.

Gordon lost his footing on the muddy strip of lawn between the house and the driveway but clambered up again and was off and running before Liss could do more than gape at him.

Still struggling with disbelief, she turned to stare up at the balcony. The door into the guest room stood open. She'd been right about that thump she'd heard. For some inexplicable reason, Sandy had bolted from the room and leapt over the rail of the balcony, dropping ten feet or so to the ground. What on earth had Gordon said to him to make him that desperate to get away from the police?

“Why would he run?” Zara wailed. “He didn't kill Victor.”

“Of course not,” Liss automatically agreed.

But running away made him
look
guilty.

Arms wrapped around herself against the chill in the evening air, she slogged toward the front of the house. The uniformed trooper already had Sandy in custody. His hands were cuffed behind him, but that wasn't the worst of it. He was limping. Liss stopped dead and stared. It didn't take much for an awkward landing to do permanent damage. She ought to know!

“He's hurt!” Zara tried to run to Sandy's side, but Liss held her back. Far from calm herself, she still knew better than to get in the way of an arrest.

Gordon opened the back door of the cruiser parked at the curb. By the time Liss and Zara reached it, Sandy was inside. Liss caught only a glimpse of his face, but that was enough. His features were contorted with pain.

“He's injured,” she said to Gordon in an accusatory tone.

“We'll stop at the hospital on the way to the jail.”

“Did you come here to arrest him?” Liss demanded. And to think she'd believed Gordon to be fair-minded!

“I came to ask questions. Your friend was being so evasive that I suggested he might like to accompany me to another location for the rest of the interview. That's when he decided he didn't want to stick around.”

“What are you charging him with?” Liss managed to sound calm, but her fingers had curled into tight fists.

“Assaulting a police officer.”

Zara made a little sound of distress and imitated a fountain. Liss just wanted to smack somebody, and it was a toss-up whether her target would be Gordon or Sandy. They were both behaving like idiots.

“Gordon, you can't just—”

“Liss, butt out.” Leaving her sputtering indignantly, he climbed into the passenger side of the cruiser. The uniformed officer was already behind the wheel and lost no time getting under way.

Liss stared after the taillights until they disappeared. As if someone had flicked a switch, she became aware that her feet were rapidly turning into blocks of ice. She could hear Zara's teeth chattering.

“Inside,” she ordered, appalled to realize that both her front and back doors had been left wide open. It was a wonder Lumpkin hadn't escaped in all the confusion. She located him in the kitchen, fully occupied with his food dish. “Only sensible one in the group,” she muttered. Raised as an indoor cat, he'd probably stuck one paw outside and decided to wait for summer to try exploring the world beyond the house.

After a quick trip to her bedroom to exchange sodden shoes and socks for warm, fluffy slippers, she headed downstairs again. Her hands were still unsteady. She spilled cocoa, slopped water, and nearly dropped a mug, but she craved the soothing effects of hot chocolate and felt the need for something physical to occupy her. Completing the simple task settled her, although it took twice as long as it should have.

The phone started ringing even before she put the water in the microwave. Sandy's arrest had not gone unnoticed by the neighbors. Ray called from Dan's house—Dan himself wasn't at home. He'd been beeped by his brother and gone out, so he'd missed all the excitement. Then Fiona phoned from Aunt Margaret's apartment. Angie was next, followed by Patsy from the coffee shop on the opposite side of the town square. Liss told them all the same thing—she'd talk to them tomorrow, when she knew more herself. Then she unplugged the landline and turned off her cell.

Correctly guessing that Lee Annie would be with Zara, consoling her, Liss filled three mugs with cocoa, put them on a tray, and carried it upstairs. She found both women in the guest room, Zara huddled on the bed, Lee Annie standing by the balcony door and shaking her head in disbelief.

When Liss appeared in the hall doorway, Zara sniffled, hiccuped, and fished for a tissue to wipe her streaming eyes. She accepted the hot chocolate. Liss gave her time for a few sips but she wasn't feeling long on patience. “What happened before you came downstairs?”

“Detective Tandy knocked. I let him and the other cop in. He said he wanted to talk to Sandy alone, but first he needed to ask me a question.” She started to tear up again, but got control of herself when Liss fixed her with a basilisk stare. “He had a letter I wrote.”

“What letter?”

“I'm not sure.”

“How can you not—?”

“He held out a sheet of yellow lined paper, okay? The page was folded so that only the last part showed—my signature. So when he asked me if I'd written that letter, I said I supposed I had. He didn't let me see the whole thing, Liss. Just my name at the bottom. It was my writing, though, and I always write letters on yellow lined pads.”

“You should have asked to see the whole thing.”

“He didn't give me the chance. He said thank you and told me that would be all. Then he all but shoved me out into the hall.”