Ho-Ho-Homicide (A Liss MacCrimmon Mystery Book 8) Page 3

  Like the house, the galvanized-steel structure had seen better days. What remained of the murky late afternoon daylight revealed more rust than shine.

  “You don’t see many of those, period,” Liss agreed.

  Traditionally, outbuildings on Maine farms were built of wood. More often than not, they were also connected to the house, thus saving the farmer the trouble of going outdoors on a cold winter day to feed his livestock or milk his cows or collect a few eggs.

  “It’s a very convenient design, ideal for providing extra work space.”

  There was something in Dan’s voice that had Liss narrowing her eyes. “If you’re thinking of putting one of those ugly things in our backyard, you can forget about it.”

  He chuckled but got out of the truck for a closer look. By the time Liss hopped down from her side of the cab, he was examining the padlock on the Quonset hut’s door. “Did Gina give you a key to this?”

  Liss shook her head. “Only the one for the house, but I imagine there are other keys inside. If not, the caretaker will have one. I—” She broke off as for the first time, she noticed what lay down the hill beyond the Quonset hut. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Have some Christmas trees.” Dan rattled the padlock one last time, then let it go and came to stand beside her.

  They were on a high point of land—no real surprise, since they’d been climbing steadily ever since they left the road—and the view was awe inspiring.

  “How many do you think there are?” Liss asked.

  “Must be thousands of them.”

  The trees stretched out in ragged rows, filling field after field—acres of land. Liss couldn’t help but be impressed by all the work that had gone into planting them.

  “It looks more like a wilderness than a crop to me, but we can’t tell much from here.” Dan cast a wary glance toward the sky. What had been only the occasional wet snowflake had turned into a fine but steady mist, the kind that could morph into sleet in a heartbeat. “We’d better get ourselves and our stuff into the house.”

  For a moment longer, Liss contemplated the vista before her, picturing it in bright sunlight with snow sparkling on the evergreen boughs. On a day like that, she imagined the trees would look exactly like a scene from a holiday greeting card.

  They unloaded their luggage from the back of the pickup and braved the rickety porch. In contrast, the key Gina had given to Liss slid smoothly into the lock. The front door swung open on well-oiled hinges. When Liss flicked a switch, light flooded the entryway to show her one closed door straight ahead of her and another to her right. On her left there was a narrow hallway that ran the length of the house. She found a second light switch, which illuminated two closed doors along the hallway and another, also closed, at the end.

  “According to Gina, there’s a bathroom down that way,” Liss said, “and there’s a second bath upstairs. The kitchen, with the thermostat, is through here.” She opened the door to her right and entered the first of two medium-size rooms connected by an archway. Both were haphazardly furnished with overstuffed chairs, end tables, and lamps. In the front room, a sofa faced a television set that appeared to be at least twenty years old.

  Dan followed right behind her with their bags. When he put them down on the hardwood floor, the thump sounded ominously loud in the stillness of the deserted house.

  Liss headed for the archway. “Gina told me that a caretaker looks after the place. Andy Dutton. He stocked the place with food and other necessities in advance of her arrival, but she didn’t get a chance to meet him before she had to leave. Apparently, they’ve communicated only by e-mail. She couldn’t tell me anything about him.”

  She continued on into the kitchen. It was larger than either of the other two rooms. It was also noisier. An ancient refrigerator hummed unevenly, the sound underscored by the slow rhythmic drip of a leaky faucet. A plain pine table with four mismatched wooden chairs occupied the center of the room. Against one wall was an electric stove, which appeared to be of the same vintage as the refrigerator. Cabinets and counter space were in generous supply, and everything had been freshly scrubbed. The faint scent of bleach still hung in the chilly air.

  Dan went to check the thermostat. “It’s set at fifty-five,” he said and turned it up to seventy.

  From the cellar below, Liss heard the rumble of an oil furnace firing up.

  Dan cocked his head. “No explosions. Always a good sign.”

  “Pessimist!”

  “Just being cautious. It’s an old house. I’m going to check the smoke alarms to make sure all the batteries are still good.”

  While he did that, Liss turned her attention to assessing their supplies. The refrigerator, as promised, contained the essentials—bread, milk, eggs, cheese, cold cuts, iceberg lettuce, locally grown tomatoes, carrots, and even a package of ground round with a sell-by date that had not yet passed. Liss found condiments in the cupboards, as well as an interesting assortment of snack foods, which made her wonder how old Andy Dutton was—not that she had any objection to junk food, even at the advanced age of thirty-four. Potatoes, onions, and apples filled their respective bins.

  “How about burgers for supper, with mashed potatoes and carrots and a salad?” she asked Dan after she unearthed a cast-iron frying pan.

  “Fine with me, but I think you should phone Gina first. I have a feeling there’s something she left out of her briefing.”

  Liss glanced over her shoulder. “Why? And what have you got there?”

  “Magazines. They were stacked on an end table in the middle room.” He frowned as he rifled through them. “Not one of these has a date more recent than seven years ago. When did Snowe die?”

  “Gina didn’t say.”

  “How did he die?”

  “Don’t give me that look! I don’t know any details. I assumed his death was recent and from old age. She said he was her great-uncle, so he must have been her grandfather’s brother.” She faltered as the significance of the seven years sank in. “Surely you don’t think . . . ?”

  “Seven years, Liss.” He waved an old issue of Sports Illustrated at her. “Isn’t that the standard length of time it takes to have a missing person declared legally dead?”

  “Well, yes. I guess so. In novels, anyway. I don’t know about real life. Surely there’s some other explanation.”

  “Better call your old pal Gina and find out what it is. Tell her to level with you, or we’re out of here.”

  Resigned, Liss fished the cell phone out of her purse and punched in Gina’s number.

  As it rang, she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her to find out more about her friend’s uncle before she and Dan left Moosetookalook. Although she’d known Gina since they were girls, she’d never met Simeon Snowe. It would have been perfectly natural to ask a few questions. Liss had an uneasy feeling she was going to regret her oversight.

  Gina answered on the third ring. She didn’t sound surprised to be hearing from Liss so soon.

  “So, what’s the story?” Liss asked when she’d explained why she’d called.

  Gina told her.

  “Well?” Dan asked when Liss disconnected the call.

  “You were right. This place has been sitting empty for the past seven years because the Snowes had to wait to claim it until Simeon could be declared dead by the courts.”

  “Please don’t tell me they think he was murdered.”

  “That’s the good news. Gina says he just went missing one day. The official verdict is that he met with an accident somewhere on the fifty or so acres that make up this tree farm. The rest of the family didn’t even know he’d disappeared for quite a while after the fact. He wasn’t close to any of them, even though he left a will that gave everything he owned to his nephew, Gina’s father.”

  “He died last year,” Dan remarked.

  “Right. So, since Gina was his sole heir, once every i was dotted and every t was crossed, she ended up owning this place.”

  “Lucky her.”


  Liss slipped her arm through his. “Lucky us. Pack your paranoia away, Dan. This new information changes nothing. We still need a vacation. You know we do. Most people take a couple of weeks off every year.”

  “Not most people I know.”

  “Workaholic!” But she smiled up at him when she said it.

  It had warmed up enough that she could remove her jacket and hang it on one of the pegs next to the back door. While she made supper, Dan dropped the subject of Simeon Snowe’s mysterious disappearance, but Liss was not at all surprised when he brought it up again during the meal.

  “It would have been nice if Gina had filled you in about her uncle’s vanishing act before we came here.”

  “Does it really make any difference? You know as well as I do that people of all ages get lost in the Maine woods.” It happened with alarming regularity. “Besides, since Simeon was Gina’s great-uncle, he would have been getting on in years. He probably suffered from Alzheimer’s. That would certainly explain how he came to wander off, never to be seen again. He simply wasn’t able to find his own way home.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Dan said. “Still, it’s odd that no trace of him was ever found.”

  Liss sent him an exasperated look. “Oh, come on. You know how often hunters stumble over decades-old remains. Stories like that are on the news all the time, especially during deer season.” She exaggerated, but not by much.

  Dan put down his fork, his supper only half eaten. “With our luck, we’ll be the ones to find what’s left of Simeon Snowe.”

  Liss’s stomach did a little flip at the thought. She forced herself to chew and swallow. After a brief silence, she returned to the subject of Snowe’s disappearance. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a missing-person search in New Boston when it was happening. Do you?”

  He shook his head. “That would have been the year you came back to Moosetookalook. When I wasn’t working, I was trying to think of ways to get you into bed. Catching the evening news wasn’t a priority.”

  She made a face at him. “Stalking me, were you? I can’t say I noticed. I was spending all my time trying to make a go of the Emporium without Aunt Margaret around to help.”

  “And you were still recovering from your surgery and going through physical therapy, as well as getting used to being back in Moosetookalook after ten years away.” Dan pointed his fork at her. “And I did not stalk you. I was endlessly patient and gentlemanly.”

  A smile on her face, Liss resumed eating. With a sense of surprise, she realized that it had been a long time since she’d given any thought to the days before her return to Maine. Once, she’d earned her living as a professional Scottish dancer. It hadn’t been her idea to quit. A severe knee injury and a subsequent partial knee replacement had decided her fate for her. But whatever regrets she’d had at the time about the abrupt end of her career, she had no complaints now. Liss liked the way her life had turned out.

  After supper, they retired to the living room. The old television set had stopped receiving current programming the day digital replaced analog, but it still worked. Fortunately, so did the VHS player attached to it. Liss found a copy of Romancing the Stone, a movie she’d always liked, in the collection of tapes stowed in the cabinet beneath.

  “Odd choice for a crusty old bachelor to own,” she remarked as she inserted it in the slot. She turned to the sofa to find Dan frowning. “What? We can watch something else if you don’t—”

  “It’s not the movie. Without cable, I’m going to miss seeing the Pats game on Sunday. I can probably listen to it on the radio in the truck, but it won’t be the same.”

  “Can’t you watch it on your cell phone?”

  “Not without paying for it.”

  That ended that discussion. Dan’s frugal Yankee heritage trumped even his love of football.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Liss promised as the FBI warning ended and the movie began.

  “Yeah?” He brightened noticeably.

  “I can think of quite a few interesting ways to pass all the extra free time we’ll have on our hands this week.”

  Snuggled together on the sofa, Liss tried to keep her attention on Dan or, by default, on the movie. Unfortunately, her unruly thoughts kept circling back to the mysterious disappearance of Gina’s great-uncle.

  Focus on your vacation, she ordered herself. Simeon Snowe had wandered off, died of exposure or maybe a heart attack. Natural causes. Search parties had failed to find his body. That was sad, of course, but it did not mean that there was a mystery to be solved at the Christmas tree farm. She needn’t give Simeon Snowe’s disappearance another thought.

  As an added precaution, Liss slid one hand over the arm of the sofa to knock twice, very softly, on the hard wooden surface of the oak end table.

  From the bedroom window on the upper floor, Liss looked out over field after field filled with evergreen trees. The view wasn’t quite the Christmas card she’d been imagining. The bright morning sun emphasized the wild, overgrown appearance of the entire plantation, the inevitable result of years of neglect. The most discordant note was sounded by one particularly undisciplined tangle of trees. She couldn’t say why the sight made her so uncomfortable, but as she continued to stare at it, an involuntary shudder racked her entire body.

  “Are you cold?” Dan had finished dressing while she’d been gawking at the view.

  “It is chilly here by the window,” Liss replied, hedging. She told herself she’d shivered. That was all it had been. No sensible person put stock in premonitions of disaster.

  “Then come away from there.” His was the voice of reason. “We’ll go down and fix ourselves a hearty breakfast and then go out and inspect the premises.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful what amazing sex and a good night’s sleep can do for someone?” Liss teased him. “You almost sound as if you’re ready to relax and enjoy our vacation.”

  He laughed. “Let’s just say I’m resigned.”

  “Good. Then you start the breakfast.” He had once worked a summer job as a short-order cook and could do things with eggs that Liss only dreamed of. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to change into a heavier sweater.”

  It didn’t take long to trade her lightweight cardigan for a cable-knit pullover. All their clothes were still in their suitcases. Liss had started to unpack the night before, only to discover that there was no room in the closet or the bureau drawers.

  The master bedroom, like the rooms downstairs, had been recently vacuumed and dusted, but no one had thought to clean out Simeon Snowe’s possessions. She’d opened one drawer to find neatly folded boxers and undershirts. Another was filled with socks and an assortment of wide, bright-colored suspenders.

  Liss left the bedroom and hurried downstairs. The lone light fixture far overhead flickered ominously as she descended.

  “That stairwell gives me the creeps,” she told Dan when she joined him in the kitchen.

  “Why?” He already had bacon frying in the cast-iron pan.

  “If that bulb had burned out while I was on the stairs, I’d have been left in pitch blackness.” The doors at the top and the bottom shut out any other source of light.

  “Since when are you scared of the dark?”

  “I’m not. I—” She broke off, unable to explain what she felt to herself, let alone to Dan. “You know what? I’m going to let you do all the cooking this morning. I need to find a spot with enough floor space to do my stretches.”

  “My hard labor will cost you,” Dan warned.

  After she paid him with a kiss, Liss headed back through the middle and front rooms to the small entrance hallway just inside the front door. The previous night she and Dan had discovered that the downstairs rooms went around in a circle, but she hadn’t taken a close look at any of them besides the kitchen and the room with the television. What she needed was a space big enough to accommodate her daily exercise routine. Liss wasn’t a fanatic about her workouts, but she knew f
rom past experience that if she skipped more than a day or two, her knee would start to bother her. It was easier to keep limber with regular exercise than deal with the stiffness and pain. As a side benefit, all that stretching also kept the rest of her body in shape.

  The first door along the narrow hallway opened into a tiny downstairs bedroom, barely big enough to hold a double bed and a dresser. The far side of the bed sat only inches away from the wall. It was made up, complete with a lovely wedding ring quilt on top. Curious, Liss took a peek inside one of the dresser drawers. Aside from a pretty lace-trimmed sachet, it was empty. Liss lifted the sachet to her nose and was rewarded with the faint scent of lavender.

  Moving on, she passed the second door, knowing it led to the downstairs bath, to enter the small room at the end. This one had been set up as an office. The computer sitting on a small wooden desk had been outdated even before Simeon Snowe’s disappearance. Its bulky monitor was a dead giveaway. So was the box of Zip disks sitting beside it. Liss intended to take a look at Snowe’s business records later, in case there was something in them that would be helpful to Gina, but at present she had other things on her mind.

  As a place for her to exercise, Snowe’s office was as hopeless as every other room in the house. There was no clear space on the floor big enough for her to run through the combination of physical therapy, dance, and aerobics she’d devised for herself.

  Liss sighed aloud. She’d been spoiled. Having a dance studio within a few yards of her house meant she’d gotten into the habit of running next door before work every day. While Zara warmed up, preparing to teach her first class, Liss ran through her routine, making use of the floor mats, the barre, and the big mirrors that lined one wall. After a quick shower, a glass of orange juice, and a slice of whole-wheat toast, she’d be raring to go, ready for whatever her day at the Emporium might bring.