Scone Cold Dead Read online

  Ray’s face purpled. His hands curled into fists. For a moment Dan thought the other man was about to come up off the sofa and pound him into the floor. Dan tensed, ready to defend himself.

  “You should leave Sarah out of this.” Ray’s deep, nasal voice sounded even more raspy than usual.

  “Whoa! No offense meant. I just heard you were friends with her, that’s all. I wondered if you knew where she went when she left the company. Liss wants to get hold of her.”

  “I should be so lucky.”

  The sheer anguish on Ray’s face convinced Dan that he was telling the truth. “Probably just as well.”

  Ray’s eyes narrowed at the comment. He hit the mute button on the clicker. “What’s it to you, Ruskin?”

  Dan shrugged. “I expect you’ve already figured that out. Liss is trying to discover who killed Victor.”

  “What is she, nuts? Sarah wouldn’t—”

  “Sarah’s just one possibility. She’s probably in the clear.” Before taking Sandy and Zara over to the Emporium, Liss had called around to every place in the area that rented rooms. No Sarah Bartlett had been registered at any of them, but that might not mean much. Sarah could have used a phony name.

  “Sarah wasn’t at the reception, y’know?”

  “No, but you were.”

  “So, tell—how did we do it, already?” Anger had morphed into sarcasm.

  “Think about it the way a suspicious cop would, Ray. You’ve got an alibi for the time when the scones must have been baked, but Sarah could have baked them. Then she lies low while you slip them onto the refreshment table for Victor to eat.”

  Abruptly, Ray started to laugh. “You call that a plan? You are nuts!”

  “Hey, not my theory.” Dan held up both hands, palms out. He had to like the guy. Ray said what he thought.

  “So, you want me out of your house? I wouldn’t want you should have to harbor a murderer.”

  “Hell, most of the people Liss invited to stay in Moosetookalook are suspects. I’m more concerned about having to put up with the constant yammering about the damn Yankees.”

  “Only team worth rooting for since dem bums left Brooklyn.”

  Dan knew enough about baseball history to recognize the reference to the abrupt departure of the Dodgers from that New York City borough in the late 1950s. “You think so? Then how come so many former Brooklyn fans now root for the Red Sox?”

  “Gluttons for punishment?”

  “Not hardly. Okay, Ray. Level with me. You got a reason Liss shouldn’t suspect Sarah?”

  “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “Because you could be stuck in Moosetookalook for a long time unless someone gets arrested for Victor’s murder.”

  “Stupid name for a town,” Ray grumbled. “All right, already. We talk about this once, then that’s it.”

  At Dan’s nod of agreement, Ray drew in a deep breath. His hands went into motion at the same time he began to speak, at times gesturing so widely that Dan feared for his lamps.

  “Okay. No argument. I blamed Victor when Sarah left. I’d have liked to wring his neck, y’know? But I figured it would hurt him more to lose his job, so me and Stewart and Sandy, we were working on that.”

  “Why didn’t Sarah file a sexual harassment complaint?”

  “You think I know? She changed her mind. Probably would have cost an arm and a leg to take the case to court.”

  “So she just left?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I heard you two were . . . close. You’re telling me she took off without a word?”

  “All but. What? You’re surprised? I’m forty-five years old. Big schnozz. Ugly puss. Going gray. I never had a chance with Sarah.” He was starting to get choked up. “Beautiful girl. Redhead, y’know? Young. Graceful. Friendly with everyone, even a guy like me. I should be so lucky as to have her for a friend. I was damned grateful for any crumb she threw my way.”

  After her previous shift’s lively ending—about which Sherri was still getting grief from her fellow law enforcement officers—she was just as happy when Tuesday turned out to be a completely boring day. At three, she showered and changed in the locker room before heading home, and when she left the jail she was thinking about her son and looking forward to having some quality time with him. That prospect took a nosedive when she spotted Gordon Tandy leaning against the hood of her pickup.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Just about.”

  “I won’t keep you long.”

  Sherri caught herself wishing it was still as cold as it had been the last few days, but the afternoon sun was warm—almost balmy for March—and it was no hardship to stand outside and talk.

  “You know Liss MacCrimmon pretty well?”

  “We’ve seen a lot of each other since she came back to Moosetookalook. We’re both from there originally and I was already working part-time in her aunt’s shop when she returned.”

  “What brought her back?”

  Sherri was surprised he didn’t already know. Then again, maybe he did. Detectives tended to ask questions to which they already had the answers. It helped weed out the lies.

  “She injured her knee so badly that she couldn’t dance anymore. That pretty much ended her career with Strathspey, although now some of the dancers are urging her to consider coming back as manager.”

  There was a slight but perceptible stiffening of Gordon Tandy’s shoulders. “Think she’ll take the job?”

  “She might. She hasn’t said much lately, but I know she really liked the life. They call dancers Gypsies for a reason, I guess.”

  After a short silence, during which Gordon seemed to be engaging in an internal debate, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a notebook. “You went to the performance with Liss, right?”

  Sherri nodded.

  “What time did you meet?”

  Interesting, Sherri thought. Had he only just realized that Liss was a possible suspect? “We met at the theater and were together through the performance and at the reception.”

  “Can you verify where she was before that?”

  “I can tell you where she was. She worked all day in the shop, and believe me, the neighbors would have noticed if she closed the Emporium long enough to make an earlier run to Fallstown.”

  “There’s an apartment above the store, right? With a kitchen?”

  Sherri didn’t bother to hide her smile. “If you’re thinking Liss baked those mushroom scones, you can forget it. First of all, when Pete and I met up with her at the theater, she didn’t have anything on her but an evening bag—much too small to hide baked goods in. But more important—and I have firsthand experience to back this up—Liss MacCrimmon is not a very good cook. She definitely has not mastered the art of making decent scones. Any cocktail scone she baked would have been way too heavy to lift in one hand. Don’t forget, I bit into one of the mushroom scones. It tasted terrible, but the pastry was light and flaky, just the way a scone is supposed to be. Liss couldn’t have managed that if her life depended on it.”

  Liss arrived back in Moosetookalook late in the afternoon with Fiona, Emily, Winona, and Cal. To her surprise, Zara had abandoned her temporary job at the Emporium. She and young Beth Hogencamp were across the street in the town square making angels in the snow.

  “Go on in.” Liss could see Sandy through the shop window. “Sandy can show you where the stairs to the apartment are and you can start moving your stuff in. Cal, I’ll be along in a minute to take you to the house where you’ll be staying.”

  As soon as they’d entered the Emporium, she crossed Pine Street. Beth’s musical laughter made her smile as she got closer. She could remember making angels in the snow when she was nine.

  Zara sprang up, looking guilty. “It’s okay. Sandy’s minding the store.”

  “No, it’s not okay.” Liss grinned at her, then flopped over backward onto the ground.

  The wet snow was a shock. It was far from the ideal consistency for mak
ing snow angels, but Beth was beside her, giggling, so she made the best of it. Moving cautiously in what was precariously close to slush, she made angel wings with her arms and shifted her legs to form the angel’s long robe.

  “Now it’s okay,” she told Zara.

  Except for the fact that the back of her coat, the seat of her jeans, and her hair were all soaking wet!

  Zara gave her a hand up, then pulled Beth to her feet. Moving to the accompaniment of a steady squish, squish, they collected more suitcases from Fiona’s rental car before trooping inside. The three women had already gone up to Margaret Boyd’s apartment, but Cal was in the shop with Sandy.

  “Interesting performance,” he said. “You look a little damp.”

  Liss shed her coat and reached behind the sales counter for a roll of paper towels to blot her hair. “A slight miscalculation. For the best snow angels, just the right kind of snow is necessary—different from snowball snow or snowman snow or even snow-fort snow.”

  “And today you did not have it.”

  “Sadly, no.” She started to pass off the paper towels to Beth and Zara and realized that the entire roll wouldn’t be adequate. “Come on upstairs,” she told them. “This is a job for terry cloth.”

  The living space in Margaret Boyd’s apartment was limited, but there were two bedrooms, one with twin beds. Emily and Winona had already settled into that one, leaving Fiona on her own in the other. Liss delivered the remaining luggage to its owners, detoured to the linen closet for towels, and returned to the living room, where she’d left Zara and Beth.

  “I didn’t forget another lesson, did I?” she asked Beth as she helped dry the girl’s dark curls.

  “I came over because I saw Zara through the window when I got home from school.”

  “She had excellent timing. I needed a break. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a shopkeeper. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great store. But being a salesclerk is pretty boring. I mean, you’re not exactly swamped with walk-in customers.”

  “Tell me about it.” Liss sighed. These days the mail order and Web site business was responsible for most of the profit. If her aunt hadn’t been so against the idea, Liss would have reluctantly considered closing the brick and mortar store and using the space for storage.

  The towel now wrapped around her head, her water-resistant ski parka hanging over a heating vent, Beth began to explore the living room. As was her habit, she picked up every object that caught her interest—framed pictures, knickknacks, even the book on hotel management Liss’s aunt had left lying on an end table. After closer examination, she returned each to the general vicinity in which she’d found it. Beth continued her inspection of Aunt Margaret’s possessions even after Fiona and Winona came in from the bedrooms.

  “Emily’s lying down,” Winona said. “She still hasn’t entirely recovered.”

  “Whatever possessed her to take someone else’s medicine?” Liss couldn’t imagine anyone being so foolish.

  “She was distraught. And Victor apparently told her those pills calmed him down.” Fiona lowered her voice. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think the girl’s too bright.”

  “She couldn’t be if she hooked up with—” Winona broke off as she belatedly realized that Zara, too, had once been romantically involved with the company manager. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it, but I don’t think this is a suitable topic in the present company.” Zara added the last in a whisper, her gaze shifting pointedly to Beth.

  “Perhaps the child should leave,” Fiona hissed back.

  Beth froze with her hand on a hand-carved wooden piper Margaret Boyd had brought back from a trip to Nova Scotia.

  “Well,” said Liss, a bit too heartily, “Zara and Beth and I will just leave you ladies to settle in. I need to take Cal over to Dan’s house and Zara has to help Sandy close the shop. We’re all going to Dan’s for supper—no cat dander there, Fiona.”

  “Excellent. And no children, either, I presume?”

  Beth had already begun to inch toward the door. Now her face flamed and she bolted. Zara went after her.

  “Was that really necessary?” Liss demanded.

  Fiona shrugged. “Sorry. The kid was just starting to bug me, that’s all.” She lifted one hand to her forehead. “I’ve got a bit of a headache. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m out of sorts. It’s been a rough few days.”

  “For all of us.” Liss forced a smile, but she hadn’t entirely forgiven Fiona for hurting Beth’s feelings. “I’ll see you in an hour or so. It’s the middle house on the right-hand side of the square.”

  “We’ll be there,” Fiona promised. “Emily, too.”

  Still squishing a bit as she walked, Liss collected Cal and escorted him to Dan’s house. No one seemed to be around so she showed him to his room, then went in search of Dan. He was not in his bedroom, or in the kitchen. She stepped out onto the back porch and saw that the light was on in the carriage house Liss’s parents had used as a garage when they’d owned the house. Dan had converted it into a wood-working shop.

  Liss slipped inside and just stood there for a moment, breathing in the soothing scent of cedar paneling and sawdust and enjoying the view. Dan was sanding a piece of wood with a sure, light touch. Lovingly.

  She must have made some small sound because he turned and saw her. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. What’s that you’re working on?”

  “It’s going to be a walking stick for my uncle. He’s got a touch of gout.”

  “You usually work on much bigger pieces.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to work on any of my own projects. Restoring woodwork and furniture for The Spruces is satisfying in its own way, but it isn’t quite the same as creating something new from a piece of wood.”

  “What do you want to be working on?”

  “My sister asked me to make her an end table using a slice of a tree trunk from her front yard for the top. Then there’s that design you suggested for a book rack that can be used in a chair or in bed. I haven’t had a spare moment to work on either.”

  “I’m sorry. You didn’t need a houseful of people on top of all you’ve got on your plate.”

  “They’re okay. Lee Annie is over at your house. Ray and Stewart went out to explore. Shouldn’t take them long. As Ray has already pointed out about a dozen times, there isn’t much ‘here’ here.”

  “If Stewart is looking for a bar, he’s going to be disappointed.”

  “He’s already stocked up on beer at the market. Liss, I had a chance to talk to Ray about Sarah.”

  She listened intently as he repeated his conversation. “Did you believe him?”

  “Yes, I did. That’s not to say she didn’t kill Victor, but if she did, I don’t think Ray knew anything about it.”

  “Poor Ray. He’s such a nice guy, but I can see why a pretty, young dancer wouldn’t give him more than the time of day.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, I’d better go check on Lee Annie. And shower and change.” She gave him the short explanation for her bedraggled appearance. “I really appreciate your inviting everyone here for supper. This house has a better layout for entertaining so many people.”

  “Lucky me.”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Yes, you are.”

  A few minutes later, she was back home. On her way to her bedroom she caught a glimpse of Lee Annie in the little one right next to it, the room Liss had originally intended for Sandy. “We’re heading over to Dan Ruskin’s house in a bit,” she called as she passed the door. “We’ll be sending out for pizza.”

  “Whatever.”

  Lee Annie sounded so downcast that Liss changed course and entered Lee Annie’s room instead of her own. “Is something wrong?”

  “Only the obvious. It dawned on me on the drive up here that we’re not going anywhere until Victor’s killer is found. Nothing against your hometown, Liss, but I’m used to city lights. I’ll withe
r and die in a place like this.”

  “It won’t be forever, even if the police don’t figure out who murdered Victor. A few days. A week at most.” She didn’t dare speculate about what that would do to the company’s reputation, or to their hopes for future tours.

  “I’ve been racking my brain, trying to think who would want him dead.”

  Liss came farther into the room and sat down beside Lee Annie on the love seat that opened up into a bed. “Any conclusions?”

  “Do you think Stewart could have done it?”

  “You tell me. Why would you think so?”

  Lee Annie heaved a sigh so deep it made her substantial bosom heave. “I had the room next to his at the motel and the walls are pretty thin. That night, after the reception, after Victor died, I could hear him celebrating.”

  That had been before they knew it was murder, Liss remembered. “Celebrating how?”

  “He was singing.” She grimaced. “He’s not a very good singer. Can’t hold a tune. But the words were clear enough. He was singing ‘ding, dong, the witch is dead.’ ”

  Liss blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan.

  “It was bad enough he kept caterwauling at the top of his lungs, but then he dragged out his pipes and started playing ‘Scotland the Brave.’ Charlie and Jock finally put a stop to that. They took the bagpipe away from him and wouldn’t give it back till the next day.”

  Liss tried to recall her earlier conversation with Lee Annie at the motel and wondered why the other woman hadn’t mentioned this then. Probably because she hadn’t considered it important. And because Liss hadn’t thought to ask her any more about Stewart once Lee Annie told them he’d left the motel. Her questions had centered on what Lee Annie might have seen at the reception and whether she knew of anyone who had a particular grudge against Victor.

  “We all cussed him out on a regular basis,” Lee Annie had said, as had just about everyone else in the company.

  But someone had done more than cuss.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time Dan opened his door to Sherri Willett on Tuesday night, he was wondering what had possessed him to invite a passel of strangers into his home. Pizza boxes littered his normally neat living room, and the table in the connecting dining room had been turned into a repository for soda and liquor bottles and bowls filled with every junk food known to man. The level of noise had long since passed tolerable. Worse, all the conversations centered on topics he knew nothing about.