A Wee Christmas Homicide Read online

  Liss struck a pose more in keeping with a nineteenth-century actor declaiming Shakespeare than a twenty-first century businesswoman. “Now mirk December’s dowie face/ Glowrs owre the rigs wi’ sour grimace,” she recited in a faux-Scots accent.

  When she made “grimace” rhyme with “face,” Dan rolled his eyes. The rest of the poem was just so much gobbledygook as far as he was concerned. Still, he didn’t say a word until she was finished and even then refused to be goaded into making any more snide remarks.

  “Let’s go inside,” he suggested instead. “I haven’t had lunch yet.” His workshop was a converted carriage house only a dozen yards from his back porch.

  “I’ll make sandwiches,” Liss offered.

  She knew where everything was. This was the house she’d grown up in. Dan had bought it after Liss’s parents moved to Arizona. Back then, she’d been long gone, earning her living performing with a professional Scottish dance troupe. He’d never expected to see her again.

  While Liss foraged in his refrigerator, Dan pondered the best way to help her with the board of selectmen. “You do know one of them,” he said when she handed him a can of soda. “Jason Graye.”

  She made a face before proceeding to slather mayonnaise on white bread and slap lettuce, bologna, and cheese together between the slices. When she had three sandwiches ready—two for him and one for herself—she unearthed a bag of sour cream-and-onion-flavored potato chips to go with them.

  “Graye doesn’t like me.” She bit into her sandwich with enough force to remind him that she didn’t much like Jason Graye, either.

  A local real estate agent and self-proclaimed entrepreneur, Graye had walked precariously close to the boundary between ethical and unethical business practices in the not-so-distant past. That he seemed to be making an attempt to clean up his act, mostly because people were on to him, did not inspire either Liss or Dan to trust him.

  “Who else is on the board?” Liss asked.

  “Doug Preston and Thea Campbell.” Doug was the local mortician and somewhat staid. All the selectmen were frugal.

  “Pete’s mother?” Liss brightened when she recognized the second name. “There’s a piece of luck.”

  “Not necessarily. She’s pretty conservative in her views and she’s gotten more so since her husband died.”

  “But she’ll go for the Scottish angle.”

  “I know Pete competes in athletic events at Scottish festivals, but—”

  “The whole clan used to be very active. I can’t imagine she’s completely lost interest.”

  “She might have, if it was Pete’s father who was the fan of all things Scottish. If I’m remembering right, and I’m pretty sure I am, Thea Campbell was born a Briscetti.”

  “Then I’ll just have to get Pete to work on her. Or rather, I’ll get Sherri to work on Pete to work on his mother.”

  He wasn’t quick enough to hide his reaction.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Dan.”

  Shaking his head, rolling his eyes heavenward, he gave in. “I just don’t think you should put any additional pressure on Pete and Sherri right now.”

  “What are you talking about? They’re engaged to be married. They—”

  “They don’t exactly see eye to eye about Sherri’s current career path.”

  Liss blinked at him in surprise. He swore he could hear the gears whirring as she ran that concept through her mental computer. Apparently she’d been clueless about the conflict between their two friends.

  “Sherri said she’d had a difference of opinion with Pete,” Liss said slowly, “but she dismissed it as a minor problem. Said he’d come around.”

  “Well, he hasn’t.”

  “I knew he was unhappy when she went to the police academy. Sixteen weeks is a long time to be separated, even if she did come home on weekends.”

  “Most of those she spent with her son, not her fiancé. But that wasn’t the real problem. Pete’s worried about Sherri’s safety.”

  “Dan, she’s working for the Moosetookalook Police Department. How much safer could she be?”

  “She could be back in the sheriff’s office, working dispatch.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Will you listen to yourself? It’s okay for Pete to be a patrol deputy, out there all alone with a whole county full of bad guys, but it’s too much of a risk for Sherri to walk around the square and check the locks on the shops?”

  “That’s just it. He’s seen firsthand the kind of nasty situations a cop can get into. Domestic disputes, for one thing. Not to mention the—”

  “Of all the male chauvinist pig mentality! Pete’s a Neanderthal.”

  “Probably, but—”

  “I’ll just have to convince Mrs. Campbell to support us without her son’s help. So, we’ll make our appeal, and then, as soon as there’s money to pay for them, we launch the ads.” Liss glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to call Rich Smalley. See if he’s got a partridge. Do you have any idea where I could find a pear tree?”

  Liss breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know what she’d been so worried about. The board of selectmen had given their approval with barely a moment’s hesitation. Even Jason Graye had supported her proposal. Doug Preston, whose mortuary was hardly likely to profit from the festivities, thought her plan was a stroke of genius. Thea Campbell had been slightly less enthusiastic, but she’d gone along with the wishes of her two colleagues.

  The amount of money they’d been able to free up for the campaign was disappointing, but Liss still had hopes that the MSBA would make up the difference. Heck, she’d max out her own credit cards if she had to. This was too good an opportunity to miss.

  Everyone agreed that whatever was to be done needed to be done fast, to take advantage of their windfall. Having dealt with all old and scheduled business—whether or not to grant a building permit to add a storage room at the grocery store; whether or not to close a little-used road, so the town wouldn’t have to plow it if and when they finally got snow; whether or not to repair the municipal parking lot now or wait until spring—the selectmen adjourned their meeting.

  “We’ll take a break,” Graye declared, “then talk informally with you folks.” He indicated Liss, Gavin, and Marcia before he drifted off, cell phone in hand, in search of privacy and a signal.

  “If you don’t need me anymore,” Dan said, “I should head over to The Spruces.” In spite of the scarcity of guests, they were always shorthanded. The renovations, even with the help of historic preservation grants and other funding, had taken a huge bite out of available funds. Dan’s father intended to hire trained professionals to handle management-level positions eventually, but just now he couldn’t afford expert help. He was making do with family.

  Liss wanted to ask him to stay, but she bit back the request. Was it her imagination, or did Dan seem unenthusiastic about the Tiny Teddies? She told herself he was just exhausted. Who wouldn’t be, working what amounted to three jobs? Still, she hated the way they’d drifted apart since the previous spring.

  “Walk me out?” he asked, and stepped into the hallway.

  Liss followed. Directly across from the entrance to the town office was the door leading to the fire department. The main entrance to the municipal building was to their left. To the right, just beyond the doors to the staff kitchen, public restrooms, police department, and the stairs that led up to the public library, was a drinking fountain that boasted the coldest, best-tasting water in the world. Automatically, they headed straight for it.

  In long swallows, chilled liquid ambrosia slid down Liss’s parched throat. “Still number one.”

  She backed off to give Dan a turn, absently tucking a strand of wet hair behind one ear. She’d substituted a jaunty little black beret for her scarf and changed into a sleek black velour pantsuit for her presentation. A hand-painted pendant broke the unrelieved expanse between turtleneck and hem. On it, the artist had depicted a mythical creature that was
half cat, half dragon.

  “Wicked good.” Dan wiped a drop of water off his chin as he lifted his head from the fountain.

  Some things never change, Liss thought. On impulse, she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her to the stairs. How many times had they sat on the third step when they were kids? Sometimes they’d been with friends and sometimes it had just been the two of them, talking about nothing and everything.

  “I’ve missed you lately,” she whispered as she settled on the hard wooden surface with its bumpy rubber matting. The stairs dipped slightly in the middle, worn down by generations of feet tromping up and down.

  “I’ve been busy.” He looked away, then back. “Missed you, too.”

  A moment of breathless silence descended. Then he crossed the requisite few inches to kiss her.

  It was a splendid effort. For a few moments, the rest of the world went away. Liss forgot all about Daft Days and Christmas pageants and Tiny Teddies. She even forgot about Gordon Tandy, the other man in her life. Her hands went to Dan’s collar, smoothing the soft cotton between her fingers as she kissed him back.

  A harsh whisper intruded on the moment.

  “Sure took you long enough to get here,” Jason Graye hissed.

  Liss froze. Slowly, Dan released her.

  It took a moment for Liss to realize that Graye was not talking to them. Shielded by the banister, Liss and Dan were well hidden. She lifted one finger to her lips, warning Dan not to speak. Careful to make no sound, she turned her head until she could see that two men stood in the shadow of the stairwell.

  “Came as soon as you called,” the newcomer said irritably.

  Graye clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder and leaned in. He spoke too softly for Liss to catch a single word. She started to shift closer, but Dan caught her arm and shook his head. Reluctantly, she subsided. Graye’s demeanor piqued her curiosity, especially when she saw him pass an envelope to his companion, but she had no desire to be caught eavesdropping.

  The whispering continued for several more minutes before the two men broke apart. Graye headed back into the town office. The other fellow left through the fire station. No one would challenge him. Moosetookalook had a volunteer fire department. Both the garage doors and the exit on the far side of the municipal building were left unlocked for their convenience.

  “Who was that?” Liss kept her voice low even though there was no longer anyone around to overhear.

  “Eric Moss, I think.”

  Liss knew Moss slightly. He was a former delivery service driver who’d had a hard time making ends meet after he retired. Since he was already acquainted with all the local businesspeople and familiar with the products they sold, he’d been able to develop a reasonably profitable sideline as a picker. He located odd lots and interesting single items and resold them to shopkeepers who handled similar merchandise.

  “What business would Moss have with Graye? Graye sells land, not goods.”

  “No idea.” Dan tugged at her hand until she rose from the stairs.

  His grip was firm, his skin warm against hers but Liss ignored the sensual tingle his touch produced. Wrong time. Wrong place. And she was distracted by an almost overwhelming desire to discover what Graye and Moss had been discussing.

  “They looked furtive to me, sneaking around like that. Didn’t they look like they were up to no good to you?”

  She justified her curiosity by rationalizing that any nefarious plotting on Graye’s part just now might have a negative effect on her own plans. She wasn’t about to let a slimy toad like Jason Graye mess with her pageant or the successful sale of Tiny Teddies.

  “Graye always looks as if he’s up to something. It’s part of his charm.”

  The sarcasm in Dan’s tone told Liss he didn’t really care what was going on, but she didn’t trust Graye as far as she could throw him. She hesitated outside the door to the town office, groping for the words to express her concern. She hadn’t come up with anything more specific than a gut feeling before Dan bent to give her a light kiss on the cheek.

  “I gotta go, Liss.”

  As quick as that, she banished Jason Graye to the back burner. Priority one was the welfare of the town, but number two was a more personal issue. She caught up with Dan at the coatrack as he shrugged into his L. L. Bean Maine Guide’s jacket. “I appreciate your support this evening.”

  “No problem.” His expression somber, he wished her good luck. “You’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of you.”

  “It will bring in business for all of us, Dan. I know it will.”

  “So would a nice northeaster.” They had reached the entrance, which gave them a clear view of the expanse of bare ground that was Moosetookalook’s town square.

  “We’ll get snow eventually. We always do.”

  “It can’t be soon enough to suit me. I gotta tell you, Liss, the sight of all those tarp-covered snowmobiles sitting in garages and on the dead grass of side lawns is really starting to depress me.”

  On that less-than-cheerful remark, Dan left for the hotel.

  Liss sighed as she headed back to the Town Office. She’d see him at the MSBA meeting in the morning, but there had been a time not so long ago when he’d have suggested stopping by at her house after he finished whatever job he had to do at The Spruces tonight.

  The lack of snow was depressing, but it was nothing compared to the lack of romance in her life!

  Chapter Three

  By eight o’clock on Wednesday morning, twenty people had crowded into Liss’s living room. She had plenty of coffee ready, thanks to her own eight-cup pot, the large coffeemaker she’d brought home from the shop, and her aunt’s old-fashioned percolator, but she could have kissed Patsy of Patsy’s Coffee House when she turned up carrying two boxes of assorted homemade pastries—everything from doughnuts to scones to blueberry muffins. The smell of fresh baked goods had Liss’s mouth watering even before she lifted the lid of the first box to peek inside at the goodies.

  “For this,” Liss told the pale, cadaverously thin genius-in-the-kitchen, “you get to sit in the place of honor.” A few minutes later, Patsy was installed the overstuffed easy chair, Liss’s favorite spot to curl up in and read.

  Liss cleared her throat and waited for everyone to quiet down. “I’m speaking for myself, Gavin, and Marcia,” she began.

  The two of them shared the sofa with Stuart Burroughs, owner of Stu’s Ski Shop. Marcia, considerably taller than either of them when they were seated, looked like a beanpole between two pumpkins. Liss had to work to dislodge that image from her head. It didn’t help that Stu, who had always been chunky but had recently put on quite a bit of weight, was wearing a blaze-orange fleece sweat suit.

  “Okay,” Liss said, starting again when she had the urge to giggle under control. “Here’s the deal.”

  A quarter of an hour later she concluded her pitch: “This will make Moosetookalook a destination shopping venue. People will come for the toy, stay over at The Spruces because they’ve had to travel so far, and spend money at all the shops in town.”

  Liss stopped, feeling like a toy that had wound down. No, she decided, more like someone caught in an endless loop, repeating the same refrain over and over again. Fortunately, her words seemed to be having the desired effect. The board of selectmen had fallen in line and she had the expense check to prove it. Yesterday, even before the board of selectmen met, she’d won the support of the principal at the regional high school in Fallstown. She had been promised her nine lords a-leaping and her twelve drummers drumming, as well as some necessary props. She was still working on the milkmaids, the dancing ladies and the pipers, but she expected no problems finding them, especially now that the folks in her living room were talking to each other and nodding.

  Stu Burroughs was the first to speak up. “I’m in, but only if I get a couple of these teddy bears to sell in my ski shop. I don’t suppose you’ve got any that are wearing parkas and carrying little skis?”

 
“Oh, I like that idea,” Betsy Twining chimed in from her perch on one of Liss’s kitchen chairs. “I want some teddy bears to sell in my place, too.”

  Betsy owned the Clip and Curl, a combination beauty parlor and barber shop, located in the back half of the building that also housed the post office. Stu could have used her services, Liss thought. His hair was the flat black of a do-it-yourself dye job.

  “Are you talking about selling on consignment?” Thorne asked.

  “I’m saying you should sell me a couple for resale. Call it a good-will gesture among local businessmen.”

  “If you wanted to sell teddy bears, Burroughs, you should have bought your own supply in the first place. Mine are staying right where they are.”

  “What do you think, Joe?” Stu appealed to Joe Ruskin, Dan’s father, who had appropriated the Canadian rocker in Liss’s bay window. “Share the wealth, right?”

  Liss had only to study the older Ruskin’s features to know what his son would look like in twenty years. Dan’s sandy brown hair would have a bit of gray at the temples—very distinguished. There would be more lines around his molasses-brown eyes. But he wouldn’t stoop, for all that he was over six feet tall, and he’d still have the muscular build that came from working in construction and owed nothing to exercise machines in a gym.

  “Thorne has a point,” Joe said. “He was the one with the foresight to buy the bears.”

  “Or his ex wife was.” Marcia’s mutter was just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

  Liss sent her a repressive look, thinking that Marcia should be the last person in the world to look down on the idea of consignment sales. Marcia ignored the warning glance. Apparently she considered these extraordinary circumstances.

  “I want at least ten teddy bears in my store.” Deliberately rude, Stu leaned in front of Marcia to glare at Gavin Thorne.

  “You’re not getting them.” Thorne folded his arms across his chest but ended up looking sulky rather than resolute.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Nobody has teddy bears!”