The Scottie Barked At Midnight (12 page)

Elise removed the snake from around her shoulders, but instead of turning Eudora over to him, she cradled her like a baby—a four-foot long pulsating baby capable of squeezing her to death.

The security guard wandered over to where Liss was standing. “Is she brave or just crazy?”

“Eudora is her pet. Her companion. She's protective of her.”

“Crazy.” He glanced at the two carriers. “I'd keep a close eye on those dogs, if I was you. Pythons will kill anything they can get hold of, including people. I looked them up online after we got the complaint. There was this guy, young guy—only nineteen—found dead in his apartment, a forty-five-pound, eleven-foot-long python wrapped around his body. The cops figured the snake mistook the guy for its next meal when he was trying to feed it a chicken. A whole chicken. Can you beat that? Anyway, I guess the python thought the guy would be tastier than the bird.” The radio crackled, cutting short his snort of laughter.

Liss continued to watch the drama unfolding in front of her. Elise was all but snarling at the two officers and beginning to sound hysterical. The man from animal control lost his composure and shouted back. Even the game warden wasn't as calm as he had been, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Roy Eastmont's plummy voice boomed out, silencing all three of them. “We want to keep everything on the up-and-up here at
Variety Live!
Of course Ms. Isley will cooperate with the authorities.”

“I will not!” Elise shrieked. “Eudora is as gentle as a kitten. She was bred in captivity. She wouldn't hurt a flea.”

Valentine Veilleux snapped one photo after another, catching crowd reaction, contestants' faces, and the whole process of forcibly moving the python from Elise's arms to the cage. One of the show's cameras recorded all the action as well, going in for a close-up when Elise flung herself into Eastmont's arms and buried her face in the front of his designer jacket.

Very dramatic, Liss thought, and Eastmont would milk it for all it was worth as Elise's beloved pet was taken away.

A small movement at the entrance to the ballroom caught her eye. Someone stood on the other side of one of the doors that led from the ballroom into the foyer. Liss shifted her position slightly. A man. No, two men, and the second one was armed with a camera that carried the logo of one of the Portland television stations. A closer look at the first man revealed that he held a microphone in one hand. There was something familiar about him, too. After a moment's thought, it came to her. He was Troy Barrigan, a regular reporter on one of the local evening-news shows.

While the security guard conferred with the animal-control officer and the game warden, the three of them forming a protective circle around the cage that held Eudora, Roy Eastmont signaled for the
Variety Live
camera crew to stop recording. He drew Elise aside, closer to Liss and closer, although he didn't realize it, to the television news team.

“It will be all right, love,” Eastmont said in soothing tones. “We have plenty of footage from previous performances. Don't you worry about a thing. We'll fake something up so you can stay in the running for at least the next two shows.”

Liss cleared her throat. “Uh, you might want to be careful what you promise.”

His smile conspicuously absent, Eastmont glared at her. Liss jerked her head toward Troy Barrigan and his cameraman. From the reporter's cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin, they'd caught all of Eastmont's attempt to reassure Elise.

Barrigan thrust his microphone into the MC's face. “Any comment you'd like to make for our viewers, Mr. Eastmont? Does what you just told Ms. Isley mean that you'll run clips from past shows and try to pass them off as a live performance?”

An appalled silence fell over the entire cast and crew of
Variety Live.
Liss held her breath, waiting to hear Eastmont's reply.

It took the MC only a moment to regain his composure. “You misunderstood, young man.” He gave Elise's hand a final, reassuring pat before he clapped an arm around the interloper's shoulder to steer him toward the exit. “If you'll come with me, I'll give you an exclusive inside look at just how our program brings wonder and delight to our millions of viewers every week.”

Seconds later, both reporter and cameraman had been ushered out of the ballroom. Eastmont was quick on the uptake. Liss had to give him that much credit.

The production assistant breathed a sigh of relief. “Excitement's over. Back to work, everyone!”

Elise sent her an incredulous look. “I can't do my act without Eudora!”

Mo sidled up to her. “Cheer up, Elise. You can always dance with a feather
boa
instead of a python.”

“My
partner
is not so easily replaced!” In a cartoon, Elise would have been pictured with steam coming out of her ears.

“Neither was my equipment!” Mo shot back.

“Hold on!” Liss thrust herself between them before they could come to blows. “Don't get mad at each other. All of our acts have fallen victim to dirty tricks. It seems to me that means—probably—that they weren't played by any of us.”

The sound of a throat being cleared had the three of them turning to look at the animal-control officer. The game warden and the security guard had gone, but they'd left the cage containing Eudora behind.

“Someone played a dirty trick on Miss Isley, all right,” he said. “Turns out there's no Augustus Brown registered at this hotel, in room 312 or anywhere else. The complaint of a python attack was a complete fake.”

Chapter Seven

“I
'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that the same person who took Dandy was responsible for the phony charges against Eudora,” Liss said. “And it wouldn't surprise me to learn that it was an anonymous tip that brought that TV news team here.”

Hal Quarles had joined Mo and Liss after Elise accompanied the animal-control officer to release her pet python from captivity. “Anyone care to wager on who tipped off the media?” he asked. “My money is on Roy Eastmont. I wouldn't put anything past him, not if it gets free publicity for the show.”

“If he called the Portland station, then his plan backfired,” Liss said. “That reporter overheard enough to convince him that the series isn't really broadcast live.”

But when Eastmont returned to the ballroom, without the news team, he didn't seem at all concerned about bad publicity. His smile, wide and genial, seemed as genuine as it ever did.

“Back to work, everyone! Quickly!” He clapped his hands to get their attention. “The crisis is past, but we have a
lot
of work to do! Mo, you're up next.”

The rest of the session went without incident. Liss stayed until the end to watch performances by Mo, Elise, and Quarles. The first was lively, the second strangely fascinating, and the third just plain irritating. Liss had never thought insult comedy was very funny, although she supposed she had to admire Quarles's ability to walk the fine line between making people laugh and provoking outrage, boycotts, and even lawsuits.

“We'll record the results show at ten tomorrow morning,” Eastmont announced, “then go right into the next week's performances. Be here, in costume, by nine-thirty at the latest.”

The young woman who was Eastmont's assistant was waiting to speak with him, and they were soon deep in conversation. Liss supposed she must have a name, but she hadn't heard anyone use it.

The performers scattered, while members of the production staff went about their various duties. The ballroom cleared rapidly. By the time Liss stepped into the foyer, pulling the two wheeled animal carriers behind her, the area appeared to be deserted. She jumped when Mo Heedles called her name. Dandy gave one short bark and then fell silent.

“Mo. What can I do for you?” She kept walking toward the elevator. She'd pushed the UP button before she got an answer.

“Valentine told me what you noticed in the pictures she took. The dog harness. I don't know where that came from but, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with Dandy's disappearance.”

Liss slanted a look her way. In the unflattering lighting in the foyer, Mo's face looked pale and drawn. Guilt? Or understandable concern, considering that the alternative explanation was that someone had tried to frame her?

The elevator door opened, and they got in. From her teary-eyed look, Mo was about to start crying. Instead, she sneezed.

Right,
Liss thought.
Allergic to dogs.
She fumbled in her pocket for a clean tissue and offered it to the other woman.

“Thanks.” Mo blew her nose with a loud honking sound. “You believe me, don't you? You were right in what you said to Elise. We're all three of us victims.”

“I'm keeping an open mind,” Liss said. The elevator rose slowly toward the fourth floor. “A clever villain would arrange matters so that she, or he, appeared to be just another one of the trickster's targets.”

“Why on earth would I want to cause trouble?”

“I don't know, Mo. Why would you? To eliminate the competition, maybe?”

“If that's what I was trying to do, I'd be better at it.” The annoyance in her voice was tempered by the rueful look on her face. “And I'd have put Hal Quarles on my hit list.”

Liss fought a laugh and lost. “What could you do to him? He's got all his jokes in his head. There's no equipment to vandalize. No partner to eliminate.”

“All I'd have to do is get him drunk right before his performance.”

“Spike his drink? Slip him a Mickey?”

“No need. He's a recovering alcoholic.” Mo sighed. “Trouble is, I don't think I could bring myself to do that to him, no matter how obnoxious he is. I wouldn't want his relapse on my conscience.”

The elevator stopped, and the door opened on an empty fourth-floor hallway. They walked together as far as Mo's suite, which turned out to be the second one on the left.

The memory of a door closing somewhere along this corridor came back to Liss as Mo went inside. She'd wondered at the time if someone had been spying on her, and who occupied which rooms. Still wondering, she let herself into the Amendole suite. After she freed Dandy and Dondi from their carriers and fed and watered them, she went back out into the hall to study the layout.

She was in one of two corner suites. When she stood with her back to her door, the fire exit was straight ahead of her. Only two doors opened off the short hallway leading up to it, both of them to her left as she faced the stairwell. Oscar Yates was in the one nearest it. She had no idea who occupied the other suite. Looking to her right, she couldn't see Mo's door, but it was only just out of her range of vision. Liss hesitated, then decided she could leave the dogs alone long enough to pay a brief visit to her neighbor.

Mo looked surprised to see her. “Is something wrong?”

“I just wondered—do you know which rooms the other competitors are in?”

“Sure. Valentine Veilleux is in the suite next to the elevator, when she feels like using it. Then me. Iris is on the other side of me and Willetta is next to her in the corner room. Then, between Willetta and you, that's Elise's suite.”

“Hal Quarles is across the hall from me,” Liss remembered, “and Oscar Yates is next to the stairs. Who has the suite next to Yates?”

“That would be Roy Eastmont.
Variety Live
booked all the rooms on this floor and a good many on the third floor, too. I'm not sure who's where down there besides the costume lady. I've heard that most of them are just regular rooms, though. No suites for the peons.”

“Thanks, Mo.” Liss started to turn away.

“No problem, but is there some particular reason why you wanted to know where everyone is?”

“Just a minor puzzle that needed solving,” Liss said. “I have no plans to sabotage anyone's act.”

“
Did
you solve it?” Mo asked, stepping out into the hall and watching Liss insert her key card. For once, it worked on the first try.

“Maybe.” Liss ducked inside without satisfying Mo's curiosity. The Scotties were right there to greet her. “Make that almost certainly,” she told them.

From the door of her suite next to Mo's, Iris Jansen had a clear line of sight to Liss's room. Given the way Iris felt about the magician she worked for, and how she'd been so quick to steer him away from Liss at the food table that first morning, spying on her boss made perfect sense. Iris had probably been coming out of her room when she'd caught sight of Yates talking to Liss. Naturally, she'd keep an eye on them until Yates continued on to his own suite. As soon as he'd disappeared around the corner, Iris would have retreated back inside her own room to avoid being seen. Only the click of the door as it closed had betrayed her presence.

Liss felt sorry for the young woman. Jealousy was a tough emotion to handle, and one that could really mess with a person's sense of perspective.

 

After Liss had gone over Deidre's notes for the dance number she had planned for the next show and put Dandy and Dondi through their paces, she took a break. Was it still only Monday? She felt as if she'd already lived through a week of rehearsals and recording sessions.

A glance at her watch told her it was nearly five, late enough for Dan to have knocked off work. He built the jigsaw-puzzle tables he sold online and in Carrabassett County Wood Crafts in the workshop behind their house. First, though, before she called that familiar number, she hunted up the one Desdemona had left for her. Liss needed to give Deidre's daughter an update, too.

After twelve rings, she gave up.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bug Desdemona with
Variety Live
business just yet. Deidre's funeral had been held earlier today. Still, it was odd she wasn't answering her phone, or at least letting messages go to voice mail. Liss wondered if Gordon had been able to reach her, and what questions he'd wanted to ask her. She supposed she'd find out eventually. In the meantime, she had another call to make.

Just hearing Dan's voice perked her up. She told him all about the other acts in the competition—even including the Great Umberto's attempt to hit on her, which struck her as pretty funny in retrospect. He claimed he wasn't surprised to hear how phony the whole thing was, and they laughed together over Liss's account of her first meeting with Eudora.

“Talk about up close and personal,” Dan said. “Just how big is this snake?”

“At a guess, about four feet long, but I didn't get close enough to take measurements.”

“A small one, then.”

“In what universe?”

“No, really. Pythons—Burmese pythons, anyway—are usually much bigger. Around nine to seventeen feet. They run maybe forty pounds for a small one and go up to more than a hundred pounds.”

“I doubt
Elise
tips the scales at more than a hundred, lucky thing.”

“Eudora is probably a ball python, then. They're smaller and much easier to handle. They got their name because they curl into a ball when they're frightened.”

Liss thought of Elise, cuddling the snake against her like a baby. Maybe the snake had been scared, but that didn't make Eudora any less dangerous. She repeated the story the security guard had told her.

“Those incidents are rare,” Dan assured her. “Even if Eudora got loose and somehow got into your room, it's unlikely she'd bother you.” There was a pause. “You should probably keep the Scotties out of her way, though.”

“Oh, thank you very much for the nightmares I'll be having tonight! Do I want to know why you know so much about snakes?”

“Science fair. Seventh grade.”

“You've got a good memory.”

“It was an interesting project. I really wanted to keep a python as a pet. My mother nixed that idea. She said she could deal with garter snakes, but that was her limit.”

“Wise woman. Don't get any ideas about introducing a new pet to our house,” Liss warned him. “The cats would freak.”

“They miss you,” Dan said. “I miss you.”

She smiled into the phone. “It hasn't been three full days yet.” And only two nights.

“Seems longer. My schedule hasn't been quite as full as yours.”

“You don't know the half of it.”

As she'd expected, he was more concerned than amused when she told him what had happened to Eudora and Elise that afternoon. There was a little silence on the other end of the phone line after she filled him in on the vandalism to Mo's props and her theory that the dirty tricks were connected.

“Anything else I should know about?” Dan asked.

“Well, yes. There is one thing.”

Now that nearly twenty-four hours had passed, Liss felt foolish for having been so unnerved by Gordon Tandy's visit. Although there had been a time, not all that long ago, when she'd have avoided mentioning the state police detective's name to her husband, recent events had taught her that it was always better to share information than to hold things back. If some of what she was about to tell Dan irritated him, she was certain that reaction would be short-lived. She took a deep breath and plunged in.

“He was looking for Desdemona Amendole?” Dan asked when she finished.

“That's what he said.”

“But he didn't say why?”

“Does he ever?” Thinking that Dan was taking this better than she'd anticipated, Liss relaxed. She was seated on the sofa, with Dandy's head in her lap. She stroked her absently while she waited for her husband's next comment.

“Does Gordon think Deidre Amendole was murdered?”

Her right hand clenched on the phone. The left froze on Dandy's back. She'd wondered the same thing, but it startled her to hear Dan suggest it. “I have no idea what he thinks. You know Gordon—Mr. Stone Face.”

“You said someone's been playing dirty tricks—the dognapping and the vandalism and the phony phone call. And that Deidre's act was looking like a sure bet to win the champion of champions trophy. Is it possible one of the other contestants is deranged enough to, well, eliminate the competition in a more permanent way?”

“Now who's got an overactive imagination?”

“I guess it's pretty unlikely, but let's face it, Liss—you've stumbled into more than your fair share of murder investigations.”

“Too many. It's beyond belief that I'd find myself in the middle of another one. Besides, if there was any danger to me, I'm sure Gordon would have warned me. He's still a friend, even if he is a police officer first.”

“You're being careful, right?”

“Of course I am. We have a troublemaker in our midst and I'm responsible for keeping Dandy and Dondi safe. In fact, after what happened with Elise, I think I may have to start using the pee pads.”

“Pee pads?” She could still hear concern in his voice, but there was a thread of amusement there, as well.

Liss explained, adding, “It would be way too easy to run one of them down in the parking lot on the way to that little park we've been using for walkies.”