The Scottie Barked At Midnight (20 page)

“I found Desdemona's itinerary. She arrived in Maine a day earlier than she said she did.”

He didn't write that down, either, or ask to see the paper she'd discovered behind the desk.

“Did you ever get hold of her?”

Silence.

Liss sighed. “When do you think you'll know more about Deidre's death?”

“No idea.” Gordon leveled his sternest gaze on each of them in turn. “I hope I don't need to remind you two that everything I've told you must stay confidential?”

“No, you don't.” Dan spoke before Liss could, and threw in a scowl for good measure. Dandy licked their joined hands, her big eyes worried as she sensed the tension in the air.

“And you didn't tell us a heck of a lot. Was anything I told you helpful?” Even now that Liss had reviewed all the dirty tricks for Gordon's benefit, she was no closer to figuring out who was behind them.

His reply was frustratingly enigmatic. “You never know.”

When Gordon had gone, Dan took the place he'd vacated on the sofa, absently stroking Dondi as he settled in. “You think all this ties together?”

“I do, and I think Gordon does, too, although it's hard to tell with him.” She brought Dan up to speed on everything that had happened since he'd left that morning.

“So Hal Quarles thinks there's big money being wagered on the outcome? That sounds crazy to me.”

“Crazy, but possible.”

Dan was still shaking his head. “These dirty tricks have to be an inside job. Only one of the people connected to the show would have access to the others. Who else would know precisely what kind of damage to inflict to take an act out of the competition?”

“Maybe we need to combine motives. What if someone associated with the show is either betting on the outcome or being paid by an outsider who stands to win big?”

“Or lose big.” Dan didn't look convinced. “There's another possibility, too. Barrigan's target was the show, Eastmont's baby. That gives Eastmont the motive to stop him.”

“You think there are two separate individuals connected to this show who are capable of murder? I don't even want to think about that possibility!”

Liss reached for the room-service menu she'd abandoned when Gordon showed up and insisted that they drop the subject for the rest of the evening. The trouble was, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

There were only three acts left in the running. Since she knew she wasn't guilty, that ought to narrow down her list of suspects to the remaining competitors—Mo Heedles, Oscar Yates, and his assistant, Iris. She disregarded the fact that dirty tricks had been played on both those acts. A clever villain would make sure to be included among the victims.

Dirty tricks she could see. But murder? She knew that, in theory, anyone could kill, but she had trouble imagining Mo, Iris, or Oscar going to that extreme. And Iris had saved Dandy's life at the risk of her own. That wasn't the act of a person bent on eliminating the competition.

Liss looked up from her hamburger to see the worry in Dan's eyes. Even after what had happened to Troy Barrigan, he wouldn't ask her to drop out of the competition, but he wasn't happy that she was staying in it. She wasn't thrilled to be there herself, although she had no intention of quitting.

She reached across the table to take his hand. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she asked. “And how glad I am that you're planning to stay the night?”

Chapter Twelve

T
he next morning, the state police were out in force.

Once cast and crew were gathered in the ballroom for rehearsal, they were informed that they would be questioned individually about Troy Barrigan's fall. No one was to leave the ballroom without telling one of the troopers until everyone associated with
Variety Live
had accounted for their whereabouts the previous day.

“They don't think it was an accident, do they?” Valentine whispered to Liss.

“Neither did you.”

The photographer looked troubled. “I had my suspicions, but it's a big jump—you should pardon the word choice—from a few dirty tricks to murder.”

“Maybe this wasn't the first.”

“The overdose that killed Deidre could have been an accident.”

“Because she took too many pills by mistake?”

“Or because whoever slipped her those extra pills might not have realized how deadly they would be in combination with what she already had in her system. This attempt on Barrigan's life, though—if he was pushed, there's no way that could be unintentional. Even someone acting on impulse would have to realize the probable outcome of shoving someone from that height would be death. That the reporter is still alive is nothing short of a miracle.”

Liss wasn't sure whether it was encouraging or scary that Valentine's thoughts so closely paralleled her own. “Who?” she asked. “And who has no alibi for all the other times?”

“No one's been keeping tabs on us,” Valentine said. “Not even Jane.”

As members of the cast and crew were called out one by one, those remaining in the ballroom were permitted to continue rehearsing. It was dress rehearsal for Liss, the Great Umberto, and Mo. In the afternoon, they'd record what was called the finale but was in fact the next to last show, in which they'd each perform twice. That meant two costumes. Liss was wearing the first, a tuxedo-style pants suit that clung tighter than that Catwoman outfit.

The final program of the season would be the last results show. It would feature a brief recap of performances by each of the twelve acts who'd started the season. The six who'd been eliminated before Liss came on board had arrived at Five Mountains Ski Resort the previous day, but not until after Barrigan was injured. This morning they were nowhere in sight. Liss supposed Gordon had informed them that they would not be allowed into the ballroom to rehearse until he and his men were done with those who had survived the first half of the season.

The state police appropriated several small rooms near the ballroom for their interviews. Liss was one of the first to be called out. She took the dogs with her.

“Anything new?” Gordon asked when he'd closed the door to give them privacy.

“No. Thank goodness. Is Barrigan still hanging on?”

“So far, so good. But he hasn't been able to tell us anything useful.” He braced one hip on the conference table that took up most of the space in the small room. “I don't have any questions for you, Liss. I just didn't want to create suspicion by skipping you. As far as the others know, this is the first time you've talked to me and we don't know each other.”

“Got it. Only Valentine Veilleux already knows you're an old friend.”

A peculiar expression came over his face. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Liss knew better than to try to question him. He'd just clam up. “Shall we talk about the weather or do you prefer sports?”

He cracked a smile. “Ah, chitchat—never my strong suit.”

Her own smile was halfhearted. “And I'm not really up on my sports chatter. There's still basketball and hockey going on, right, but it's too late for football and too early for baseball—”

“It's never too early for baseball. Hasn't Dan been watching spring training?”

“He probably has.” Liss felt her expression sour. “I haven't been home enough to notice.” It wasn't that she disliked the Red Sox. Their games just seemed to take up an inordinate amount of time from March through the play-offs. And every single one of them was televised.

Gordon glanced at his watch, then looked around for the dogs. They were investigating a far corner of the small room, probably a spot where someone had once dropped food. “I think I've interrogated you long enough.” He hesitated. “Good luck with the competition.”

“I'll tell you a little secret,” Liss said as she collected Dandy and Dondi. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Roy Eastmont already knows who the winner is going to be. It's always been Deidre and her Dancing Doggies.”

“In that case, congratulations.” His lips quirked. “Do you get a trophy?”

“Apparently. And then, if Desdemona shows up to reclaim the dogs, I inherit a whole new set of problems. She hates Dandy and Dondi. I have to figure out a way to keep them safe after the competition is over.”

“You've heard from her?” His sudden alertness triggered an answering wariness in her.

“No. I told you. I tried calling a couple of times with no luck, but I did find out that her intention was to euthanize Dandy and Dondi. There's a clause in her mother's will that may prevent that, but frankly I don't trust her to abide by it.”

The contents of the will didn't seem to be news to Gordon. “I'd think,” he said slowly, “that the point will be moot if you win the competition. Don't you have to follow up on your win?” At Liss's puzzled expression, he explained. “I just assumed that the winners of these televised competitions have to go on to make a series of promotional appearances.”

“I don't think so,” Liss said, but she had not previously considered the possibility.

Lost in contemplation, she returned to the ballroom. Was she obligated to do more than she'd bargained for? The disturbing image of herself, rapidly signing documents she'd scarcely had time to read, preyed on her mind and made it difficult to get back into the rhythm of rehearsing.

You have bigger concerns at the moment,
she reminded herself.

Pushing worries about the future aside, she shifted her focus to the people around her. As the morning wore on, members of the cast and crew were shuffled in and out of the ballroom. Most looked relieved when they returned. Roy Eastmont was a glaring exception.

Sweating, his face pale, his hands unsteady as he gesticulated while giving Jane instructions, he gave every indication of having been overset by his encounter with the law. Liss wondered why. Did he have something more to hide than the bogus claims made by
Variety Live?
As far as she knew, deceiving the public wasn't a crime. “Live” was a lie. So was the fiction that votes from viewers affected the contestants' scores. But did anyone who watched television truly believe everything they saw in entertainment programming was real?

Liss hated feeling so jaded. She wanted to be able to trust the people around her, but she didn't dare take the risk. As she ran through her routine with Dandy and Dondi, she remained vigilant. Since Mo, Yates, and Iris were still in the competition, it followed that the three of them were the most likely suspects, but she kept Roy Eastmont on her watch list as well.

When she changed into her second costume—a multicolored, multilayered gauzy creation that only lacked a supply of pixie dust to turn her into one of Tinker Bell's BFFs—she ran through the other routine she'd be performing until she was sick of it. After rewarding Dandy and Dondi with dog treats and a cuddle, she coaxed them back into their carriers. That done, she sat on the floor beside them, unwrapped an energy bar to give her an excuse to stay put, and took stock of which members of the cast and crew were still in the ballroom.

The state police had been swift and efficient. They'd worked their way through almost everyone. Mel was still waiting her turn. So was Jane Smith. Roy Eastmont had left. So had Mo. Valentine was missing, too. Oscar and Iris continued to rehearse, and to judge by the ripe language that erupted from that direction, things were not going well.

“Concentrate!” The Great Umberto bellowed, both charm and charisma conspicuous by their absence.

Once the energy bar was history, Liss couldn't think of any more reasons to hang around. Lunch awaited, and then they'd all be back, once again recording “live” performances.

There was hardly anyone left in the foyer, but as she waited for the elevator, the door to the room Gordon was using for interviews swung open and Valentine came out. Liss was about to hail her when Gordon called her back. The two of them stood in the doorway, locked in an exchange of words so intense that it set Liss's antennae quivering. Although she strained to hear what they were saying, she was too far away to catch a single word.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She stepped inside, dragging the carriers behind her. By the time she turned around to punch the button for the fourth floor, the door to the interrogation room had closed. Unless they'd vanished into thin air, both Gordon and Valentine had gone back inside.

“Well, damn,” Liss whispered as the elevator began to rise. “Does this mean I can't trust anybody?”

 

That evening, Dan showed up early. They had time for a leisurely supper, during which Liss gave him a brief account of her day. She skimmed over the parts she didn't want to dwell on—her concern about the papers she'd signed, her newborn suspicion of Valentine Veilleux, and her growing conviction that she was never going to figure out who was behind the dirty tricks. She'd meant to check alibis, but that wasn't easy to bring up in casual conversation. Casual conversation was darn near impossible in any case. Everyone was too fixated on their own next performance.

“So, the finale is in the bag and just the last results show is left?” Dan shoveled the last of his mashed potatoes into his mouth and reached for the beer he'd ordered to go with their meal.

“Right. Each of the twelve acts that started the season gives one reprise performance and then the winner is announced, supposedly based on call-in votes by viewers as well as the judges' scores.” Surreptitiously, Liss fed the last small bites of her steak to Dandy and Dondi. Ever hopeful, they had been sitting beneath the table throughout the meal.

Dan leaned back in his chair and sent her a skeptical look.

“Yes, well, at least it will all be over once the champion of champions is crowned.” She hoped. “Unfortunately, I have one more chore to do this evening. Everyone else will be wearing the same costume they wore for the first show but Deidre's outfit won't fit me. Mel, the wardrobe mistress, had to make something new.” Liss glanced at her watch. “I have a fitting in about fifteen minutes.”

“Where?” He started to replace their cutlery and dishes on the room-service tray, preparatory to leaving it in the hall to be picked up.

“Her suite.” She gave him the number. “It doubles as the costume shop and wardrobe storage. I shouldn't be long. Maybe an hour?”

After putting the tray outside the door, Dan rescued his half-finished beer from the table and carried it with him to the sofa. “I knew there was a reason you were being so nice to me,” he teased her. “You need a dog sitter.”

Dandy and Dondi followed him to hop up and perch, one on his left and one on his right, looking for all the world as if they were waiting for him to turn on the TV.

“Yes, it was all an evil plot. Feed you. Get you drunk. Force you to do my bidding.” Liss came up behind him to plant a kiss on the top of his head.

“Is that the best you can do?” He turned just enough to reach up, catch hold of her upper arms, and tumble her over the back of the sofa and into his lap. Liss shrieked. The dogs scattered. Then a little silence ensued, broken only by the faint sound of lips moving on lips.

“Mmm,” Liss murmured when he let her up for air. “Maybe I could postpone the fitting.”

He sat her up, a wicked grin on his face. “The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back.”

“Good point. Thanks for taking care of the Scotties. I will definitely find a way to repay you later.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him as she got to her feet.

“No problem.” Laughter lit his eyes as the two dogs returned in a rush, nearly tripping Liss up in the process.

She sent them a rueful look. “They're sweet little guys, but they do tend to get underfoot, especially when I'm getting dressed or undressed, and Valentine—”

When she broke off in midsentence, Dan's gaze sharpened. “Valentine . . . ?”

Liss shook her head. “Probably nothing. It's just that she looked so peculiar today when she was talking to Gordon Tandy. As if she had something to hide.” She described what little she'd seen of their exchange.

“She's the photographer, right? That probably means she's pretty observant. Maybe she was just trying to decide if something she saw was important enough to share with the cops.” He chuckled. “Either that, or she's been working undercover for them all along.”

“Or maybe she's got a guilty secret.” Liss sighed as she headed for the bathroom. “It's so hard to know who to trust. If I didn't have you to rely on, I don't know what I'd do.”

She thought about that on her way to Mel's suite. She did rely on Dan, and he on her. Which was what made it so ridiculous that she hadn't yet told him about the papers she'd signed. The minute she returned, she promised herself, she'd explain the situation, and together, they'd decide what to do about it. Way too late, she'd realized that she should have been given copies of everything.

Mel had outdone herself. She'd produced a creation that was glittery and gaudy without being tasteless. The gown was royal blue in color, floor length but with slits in the sides of the skirt to give Liss room to execute the few simple dance steps Deidre's routine required. Best of all, it fit like a dream. Liss stared at herself in the full-length mirror.