The Scottie Barked At Midnight (10 page)

“This” turned out to be a skintight gold lamé bodysuit.

“I feel like Catwoman,” Liss complained as she tugged and smoothed the fabric into place.

“The underwear will have to go,” Mel said.

“Uh, Mel? A little loose here.” It was a strange complaint considering how snugly the bottom half of the costume fit, but the top gaped, much too generously cut for Liss's modest bosom.

“Not to worry,” Mel said again. “I'll make alterations.”

“I'm not sure that will help.” Looking down at herself, Liss could see all the way to her belly button. “What's your track record on wardrobe malfunctions?”

Mel chuckled. “We'll use tape to keep things in place, although some people would be perfectly happy to have you pop out of that top. Does wonders for the ratings.”

Liss held her breath while Mel inserted pins to mark the places she'd need to take in. The outfit was surprisingly comfortable. She'd be able to dance in it. She'd just have to remember not to bend too far forward.

On the other side of the clothing racks the door opened and closed. Roy Eastmont's distinctive voice, deliberately cheerful, boomed out. “Everybody decent?”

“Come on back,” Mel hollered.

“Would that, by chance, be the ‘some people' you mentioned?” Liss asked in a low voice.

“Got it in one.”

Eastmont pushed his way through to the small oasis where Liss and Mel waited, showing little care for the costumes he shoved aside. “Is that the best you could find?” he asked, looking Liss up and down. “The outfit you made for the lion tamer? The shape's nice but the viewers like to see skin.” He sent Liss what was probably meant to be an ingratiating smile. “Fact of life, I'm afraid. We don't have to like it but we do have to play to it.”

“I didn't realize the show's MC had so much to do with other aspects of the production,” Liss said.

Eastmont's smile widened. “Who said I was just the MC? I own a piece of
Variety Live.
A big piece.”

“Which is why he produces, directs, and generally meddles,” Mel chimed in. “Fortunately, most of the time, he listens to the experts he hires to handle individual departments. She's not showing skin, Roy. This is better.”

He put both hands up, palms out. “Whatever you say, Mel. I make it a practice to never argue with a woman who has access to a big sharp pair of scissors and a drawer full of pins and sewing needles.”

 

Liss was on her way back to her hotel suite after retrieving Dandy and Dondi from Valentine when she noticed that the photographer's RV was not the only distinctive vehicle parked behind the hotel.
THE GREAT UMBERTO
was emblazoned in large multicolored letters along the side of a bright blue van. Oscar Yates was just sliding the side door shut as she passed by with the two dogs. Like the entrance to Valentine's motor home, it closed with a metallic thump.

Yates waved and trotted toward her. Liss had no particular reason to be wary of the magician, other than his tendency to intrude into other people's personal space, but she was careful to keep the dogs between them as they walked together toward the back entrance of the hotel.

“Are you anticipating more trouble?” he asked. “I couldn't help but notice that you're very careful never to leave the dogs unattended.”

“Just a precaution.” Liss manufactured an air of unconcern. “After all, I'm responsible for them until Desdemona returns.”

Yates looked surprised. “She's coming back?”

“After her mother's funeral.”

“Ah. Hmmm.”

Liss slanted an inquisitive look his way. “How about you? Any problems?”

“No one has messed with any of my illusions, if that's what you mean, but Iris and I are keeping a close eye on our props.” He held the door open for her.

“So you know what happened to Mo's equipment?”

“Iris overheard her talking to Valentine about it and told me. It appears that someone is trying to cause trouble for the rest of us. I was keeping some things in the van, but it seemed prudent, under the circumstances, to move them into—well, let's just say
a safer place.
”

“Wise of you not to trust me, either,” Liss said. “You don't know me from Adam.”

“Eve,” he corrected her, and let her precede him into the elevator with Dandy and Dondi. When her back was to him, he spoke again, his voice mellow and almost hypnotic, with just a hint of an intriguing accent, something she hadn't noticed the last time they'd talked. “I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, Liss Ruskin, dog wrangler.”

By the time she turned around, his back was to her. He pushed the button for their floor.

“Are you
flirting
with me?” He had to know she was married. At the moment, her wedding ring was hidden beneath her glove, but it had been in plain sight the first time they met.

Yates favored her with a charming, charismatic smile. “Do you really mind if I am?”

The last thing Liss wanted to do was encourage him, but she found it difficult not to smile back at him. He was a good-looking guy, and he knew it. “Maybe not, but my husband would.”

The elevator rose with excruciating slowness toward the fourth floor.

Before the situation could become more awkward, Liss asked, “Why
Umberto?
”

“
Oscar the Magnificent
just doesn't have the same flair.”

“The Amazing Oscar?” Liss suggested.

“Only if I wanted to limit myself to performing at children's parties. Sad to say, despite the fact that so many youngsters delight in magic kits during their formative years, magicians are accorded only slightly more respect than ventriloquists.”

The ventriloquist, Liss recalled, had been the first to be eliminated from the champion of champions competition, although he had won in his own season, just as Oscar Yates and all the rest of the contestants had won in theirs.

The elevator doors opened. Dandy and Dondi tugged at their leashes in unison, jerking Liss forward. Yates caught her elbow to keep her from losing her balance and kept hold of it as they exited. He had a firm grip, the kind it would take considerable effort to break.

“My room is next to the stairs,” he informed her.

That was the one farthest from the elevator. Its location explained why Yates was accompanying her down the corridor, but not why his fingers still circled her arm. He wasn't much taller than she was, but it was obvious he was much stronger. She doubted she could free herself until he was ready to let go.

They turned the corner and stopped in front of her door. Fumbling for the key card in her coat pocket gave her a reason to pull away from him, and to her relief, he released his grip. She had to juggle the leashes. The dogs, sensing that they'd arrived at their temporary home, danced around her ankles, eager to get inside.

Yates turned up the charisma. “You should be safe enough in your suite, but if there's ever anything I can do to make you feel more secure, please feel free to call on me. Anytime. Anytime at all.”

There was a decided
warmth
in his voice, the kind that called up images she'd prefer to reserve for her husband. “I'm sure that won't be necessary. After all, I have these two ferocious watchdogs.”

She rammed the key card into the lock, but the little light refused to turn green.

Yates gave an indulgent chuckle. “These little guys?”

“They have a nice loud bark.” She tried the key card again, more slowly this time, but it still wouldn't work. Nerves on edge, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “The breed originated in Scotland and the Scots believe that dogs can see wraiths where human eyes see nothing.”

“Wraiths?” For the first time since Liss had met him, Yates sounded uncertain.

“Ghosts.”

The little red light finally went green. Liss turned the handle and shoved, anxious to get the door open before it decided to lock itself again. She shooed the dogs inside and started to follow them, pausing only long enough to look over her shoulder and finish what she'd been about to say: “A dog, howling in the night, heralds the approach of death.”

This bit of folklore had a peculiar effect on her audience. Liss hesitated in the doorway, bemused, as a subtle change came over the Great Umberto. His appearance didn't alter. He was still good-looking, with those dark, sexy eyes and handsome features. But now that he'd stopped trying to hit on her, he also seemed to have dropped his stage persona. The charisma remained, but in muted form.

“They didn't, you know.”

“Who didn't what?”

“Deidre's dogs. According to the people in nearby condos, they didn't make a sound the day she died.” Yates turned away, heading toward his own suite.

She watched him go, wondering how he'd come by that bit of information. Had he been questioning Deidre's neighbors? She could think of no reason why he should have. That was something the police might do, but only if they were suspicious about the cause of Deidre's death.

Yates did not look her way again. Neither did he have any trouble with his key card. It worked just fine on the first try.

A moment after his door clicked shut, Liss heard a second door close. The sound came from the other direction, the way they'd just walked after leaving the elevator. From her corner suite, Liss could see the entrances to three others along that corridor. Willetta occupied one. Liss didn't know who had the other rooms. The suspicion that one of her competitors might be spying on her sent her scurrying inside her own rooms without further delay.

“Next
you'll
be seeing wraiths,” she muttered.

After discarding coat and gloves, she caught up with Dandy and Dondi, removed their leashes, and set about putting out fresh water for them to drink. Her capricious mind jumped over rival variety acts and charismatic magicians to focus on the misty realms of legend and lore. She'd heard a few more Scottish superstitions about dogs over the years, but she didn't care for the one that came back to her first. A dog, it claimed, would point in the direction of the next person to die.

“There aren't going to be any more deaths,” she said aloud.

Dondi cocked his head and sent her an inquisitive look.

She put her hands on her hips and addressed the two dogs. “I don't believe in signs and portents, but I am very glad neither of you stopped in front of any of the doors to the suites we passed on our way back here.”

Leaving them to contemplate her words, Liss extracted a small bottle of water from the suite's minirefrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swallow.

If both Scotties howled at midnight tonight, what would
that
mean?

That you have an overactive imagination,
she told herself.
Cut it out. You have too much work to do to waste time imagining wraiths, phantoms, or foreshadowing. Rehearse. Rehearse. Rehearse. Forget everything else.

She jumped when someone pounded on her door. The bottle slipped from her hand and landed on her foot. Cold water splashed up onto her leg before it puddled on the floor. Dandy, delighted, started to lap it up while Dondi batted the nearly empty plastic bottle out of Liss's reach just as she bent to pick it up.

She said an extremely bad word.

The knocking came again, louder and more peremptory in tone.

Still struggling to calm her frazzled nerves, Liss approached the peephole, took a deep breath, and squinted at the hallway.

“This
cannot
be good,” she muttered when she recognized the man standing on the other side of the door. It was a safe bet that State Police Detective Gordon Tandy had not come to make a social call.

Chapter Six

“W
hat are you doing here, Gordon?”

He stared at her, one slow blink the only indication that he was surprised to see her. “I believe I get to hear
your
answer to that question first.” He moved past her into the living room of the suite.

Dandy made a beeline for the open door. To keep her from getting out, Liss had to close it. Dondi was more interested in the newcomer. He ran in circles, nearly tripping Gordon before the detective reached the sofa and sat down.

“Dondi, come here.”

To Liss's amazement, the Scottie obeyed. Gordon gestured for her to take the seat opposite him. She thought about offering him coffee or a soft drink and decided against it. He'd removed his hat, but still wore his coat. He wasn't planning to stay long.

As soon as she settled into a chair, the dogs took their places, one on each side of her, standing sentinel with eyes bright and ears erect. All three of them stared at Gordon, waiting for him to speak.

Liss hadn't seen Gordon for some time, but the familiar features hadn't changed. His eyes were such a dark brown that they would have looked black if they hadn't contained flecks of a lighter shade. From the look in them, he was not happy. Removing his hat, he ran one hand over thick reddish-brown hair. He wasn't wearing it as short as he once had, but his bearing still was as straight and stiff as a soldier at attention. He had to be pushing fifty, but he'd always looked years younger than he was.

Marriage agreed with him, Liss decided. Once upon a time, she'd thought he might ask her to be his bride. He'd been a serious contender for her affection before she'd decided that Dan Ruskin was the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. Not long after Liss married Dan, Gordon Tandy and Penny Lassiter, the sheriff of Carrabassett County, had tied the knot.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Physically, she didn't think she'd changed much in the last few years, but she had matured in other ways. At least, she hoped she had.

Belatedly, Liss realized that Gordon didn't intend to say more until she'd answered his question. “I'm dog sitting, as you can see. Your turn. It's obvious you didn't come here looking for me.”

“This suite is registered in the name of Desdemona Amendole. She's the one I expected to open the door. Is she here?”

Liss shook her head. “She went back to Ohio to bury her mother.”

Frown lines appeared in Gordon's forehead. He started to say something, then thought better of it. “Have you known her long?”

“A few days. Do I get to ask questions after I answer yours?”

“You can ask.” No hint of humor leavened his answer. Seeing Deidre's dance notebook on the coffee table, he picked it up and flipped through it.

“Deidre and her Dancing Doggies were contestants on a television show.” Liss reached down to scratch Dandy behind the ear. “I'm guessing you already know that. Anyway, Desdemona asked me to fill in for her mother and dance with the dogs so she doesn't have to renege on the contract with
Variety Live.
”

“Why you?” He replaced Deidre's spiral-bound notebook and retrieved a smaller one of his own from an inside pocket.

“How soon they forget!” She pointed to herself. “Professional dancer here.”

“Retired, as I recall. And just how would Ms. Amendole know that? How did you two meet?”

Knowing it would do no good to ask Gordon why he wanted to know, she obliged him by recounting the story—how she'd found Dandy and returned the Scottish terrier to Deidre and how, after Deidre's death, Desdemona had appealed to her to take her mother's place in the competition for champion of champions. “You already knew about the dognapping, right?”

Gordon hesitated, then said, “Why don't you fill me in?”

She eyed him with suspicion. That had sounded like a “no” to her, but he had his cop face on, an unrevealing expression set in stone. She couldn't begin to guess what was going on in the mind behind the official mask.

“It happened on Monday. Someone entered Deidre's condo while she was taking a nap and walked off with Dandy.” Hearing her name, the little dog climbed into Liss's lap. She placed a comforting hand on the Scottie's back. “Deidre reported Dandy missing to hotel security and called her daughter.” She paused, frowning. “I don't know where Desdemona was, but she didn't lose any time getting to Five Mountains. She was with her mother in the condo by the time I returned Dandy in the late afternoon on Tuesday. Deidre was convinced that Dandy had been stolen by one of her rivals on the show, someone who hoped to ruin her chances of winning the competition. She was probably right. At least one of the other contestants has also been the victim of foul play. Her stage props were vandalized.”

“Did this other contestant report the incident to the local police?”

Liss shook her head. “I don't think so. I don't think she even complained to hotel security.”

“Why not?”

“No idea. Maybe she just didn't want to make a fuss.”

“Name?”

“Mo Heedles.” She watched Gordon scribble it down, hoping she hadn't just caused more trouble for the other woman.

He closed the notebook and started to stand up. Liss stopped him by leaning forward and putting a hand on his arm. “Hold on, hotshot. It's your turn to answer questions. Why are you looking for Desdemona?”

Dandy, dislodged from Liss's lap by the sudden movement, hopped up next to Gordon.

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

“Bull!”

The expletive surprised him into a laugh. “You know the rules, Liss. This is police business.”

“Yeah, yeah—police business and none of mine. But it looks to me as if I'm right in the middle of this police business, so give me a break, Gordon. That you're here at all means there must have been something hinky about Deidre Amendole's death. Why else would the state police be sniffing around? Desdemona told me that her mother died of an accidental overdose. Was she wrong?”

Although Liss was trying hard not to jump to conclusions, the word
murder
loomed large in her thoughts. Gordon's presence was a dead giveaway. She winced at the unintentional pun as she watched him tuck his notebook back into his pocket.

“Let's just say the cause of death isn't as cut-and-dried as her daughter would like it to be. We're waiting on toxicology results. They take a couple of weeks to complete. Do you have Ms. Amendole's address in Ohio?”

“Don't you?” Comprehension dawned. “You don't, do you? You came to this suite looking for Desdemona because you expected her to be here. Did you tell her not to leave town? Do you think
she
killed Deidre?”

“No. No. Yes. No. And no. And I can't tell you anything else because there's nothing to tell, so please stop speculating.” She heard the underlying thread of amusement in Gordon's voice. “I have some questions for Desdemona Amendole. Loose ends to clear up. Nothing major.”

“Uh-huh.” Liss remained skeptical. A state police detective wouldn't be investigating
before
the test results came back if there wasn't some indication that a crime had been committed.

“Do you have contact information for Desdemona Amendole?”

“She left me her cell-phone number.”

Liss got up and went to the desk, with Gordon following close behind her. She tore off the top page of one of the hotel notepads, where Desdemona had written the number down for her, but she took the time to copy it onto the sheet beneath before she handed it over.

He glanced at it, then folded the slip of paper and tucked it into a pocket. “Thanks. Good luck with your competition.”

And then he was gone.

 

The next morning, Liss was ripped from sleep by the raucous ringing of the phone on the bedside table. She fumbled for it, eyes still closed, and managed to get the receiver to her ear on the third try. “'Lo?”

“You okay?” Dan's voice asked.

Liss mumbled something incoherent and squinted at the clock. Eight-thirty. She had to be at dress rehearsal in an hour.

“Liss?”

“Asleep. Give me a minute.” She could barely remember where she was, let alone how to string two coherent words together. Oh, yeah—Five Mountains.
Variety Live.
Deidre and her Dancing Doggies.

She sat bolt upright, dropping the phone. Where were the dogs? Had someone stolen them while she'd been dead to the world?

She scrambled out of bed, stumbling to the door to the connecting room, heart racing until she spotted them. They were sound asleep on the sofa, paws just touching. Dandy was making small snuffling noises, her paws twitching as she dreamed of chasing imaginary prey.

Now considerably more awake, Liss returned to the bed and retrieved the phone. “Dan? Sorry about that. You know how it is in hotels. I didn't sleep well and then I overslept and now I'm running late. Everything's fine here. I'll call you later today and fill you in on all the details, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

She'd meant to call him before she went to bed, but Gordon's visit had left her feeling edgy, and events earlier in the day hadn't exactly been soothing, either. She'd needed a sympathetic listener. Sherri had been at work and busy, and Margaret hadn't been answering her phone, and she hadn't wanted to annoy Dan, or worry him, by mentioning Gordon.

After Liss hung up, she scrambled to get dressed. When she studied herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the result. Mel had been as good as her word. She'd altered the costume to fit securely, if snugly, and show minimal cleavage.

Although she had practiced the routine with the dogs a dozen times since the debacle the previous morning, Liss worried that they'd be eliminated if their performance wasn't good enough today. Her desire to be the best, to win, had taken her to victory in many a Scottish dance competition. That same spirit came to the fore once again as she tucked the Scotties into their carriers and headed for the ballroom.

Once the dress rehearsal began, the lights, the music, even the costume, worked a kind of magic. Professionals to the core, Dandy and Dondi performed their parts on cue. And Liss, like an old warhorse taken out of retirement, found herself rising to the challenge of this new battle. She'd gone over Deidre's simple choreography in her head and on her feet until she knew it by heart. The three of them ran through the routine with nary a misstep.

This was just the dress rehearsal,
Liss reminded herself as she executed a fancy curtsy at the end, one dog on each side on hind legs and each waving their front paws in the air. She could still blow the “live” performance.

Roy Eastmont rushed up to them. “Perfect,” he called to the camera crew. “Keep that one. No need to do it over.”

“But there was no audience,” Liss protested.

He looked surprised by her objection. “There never is. We add stock shots later, along with canned applause for the sound track.”

“Haven't viewers ever noticed that nobody's watching?”

“Of course not.” Eastmont seemed amused by her naive question. “We shoot all our performers in close-ups.” He glanced at his watch. “Come back in a couple of hours, dressed exactly the same way, and we'll do the postperfor-mance chat in front of the judges and get their scores.”

Liss was still staring after him, feeling a bit bemused, when Willetta came up beside her. “I see the fix is still in.”

Slowly, Liss turned her head to study the other woman. “You're joking, right?”

“What do you think?” Willetta asked.

Was
the competition rigged? The possibility wasn't as much of a stretch as it should have been now that Liss knew just how bogus the “live” part of
Variety Live
was. She was only surprised she hadn't suspected sooner. Eastmont's phony smile and his even more phony-looking eye color should have tipped her off right at the start.

“Doesn't that make you angry?” she asked the singer.

“I'm philosophical, especially since the runners-up on this show don't do too badly with their careers.”

But Willetta, Liss remembered, had already been one of the winners. “What did you get out of being champion the last time around?”

“A recording contract, but only for one album.”

“You want more.”

“What I really want is the offer of a job with an opera company. That's why I'm playing it smarter this time around. I've been giving interviews all over the place, emphasizing the fact that I only sing show tunes on
Variety Live
for a lark. I've put a half dozen videos up on YouTube to prove I can belt out an aria with the best of them.”

“I thought the agreements we signed forbade interviews.”

Willetta shrugged. “Let them sue me. That publicity will hurt them more than it will me.”

“Good for you. But wouldn't it be even better for your career if you won the champion of champions title?”

“Sure, but the only way that's going to happen is if you quit the show.” She popped a cough drop into her mouth. “Any chance of that?”

“Not likely.” She'd signed a contract. Willetta might not mind being taken to court, but Liss would just as soon avoid being sued.

“Then let me put it this way, Liss,” Willetta said, eyes twinkling. “When I tell you to ‘break a leg,' believe that I really mean it.”

 

That afternoon, as soon as Liss walked into the ballroom, once again wearing the glittery gold bodysuit and feeling as if all it needed was a tail to complete the resemblance to Catwoman, the production assistant handed her a black armband. “Please wear this when we record the opening. Mr. Eastmont is going to hold a brief memorial for Deidre Amendole.”