Scone Cold Dead Read online

  “Not the way you mean. They worked together.”

  “Okay. No romantic overtones. So noted. That’s the sort of information it’s helpful for me to have. I can get personnel records but you’re acquainted with these people. You can help me understand them. You may even be able to persuade them to be honest with me if they’re inclined to leave out a detail or two.”

  For a moment Liss just stared at him. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Her chest felt tight. “You want me to . . . ? What do you want me to do?”

  “You’d be a liaison.”

  “And that entails what?”

  Tandy produced a spiral-bound memo pad from the inside breast pocket of his sports coat and flipped it open to a list of names—the members of Strathspey . “For starters you can identify each of these people and tell me how they got along with the victim.”

  “So what you really want is a snitch. And maybe later a spy?” Clearly he saw her as a source of inside information. He expected her to dish the dirt on her former colleagues. The suffocated feeling was replaced by a hot spark of resentment. He was trying to manipulate her into betraying her friends.

  “It’s in everyone’s best interests to clear this up quickly,” Tandy said, his tone reasonable. “You’ll be doing these folks a favor if you help me rule them out one by one.”

  Liss stalled by taking another sip of her rapidly cooling coffee. Maybe she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. In theory, Tandy was one of the good guys—she’d give him the benefit of the doubt about that.

  A rhythmic thump intruded on her internal debate. She recognized it at once—Lumpkin, playing with the cabinet doors above the refrigerator. He liked to use his paw to pry them open an inch or two, then let them thud closed on their own.

  Gordon Tandy’s attention had also been caught by the sound. He grinned when he spotted Lumpkin. “Does your cat do that a lot? Clever kitty.”

  Liss glanced up. “Wait a minute and he’ll prove you wrong.”

  True to form, Lumpkin tired of the first set of cabinet doors and reached over to try his luck with the one to the side of the refrigerator. This time nothing happened. He was trying to open the hinged edge.

  “He hasn’t been able to figure out what he’s doing wrong,” Liss said. “That’s the only thing that gives me hope that he’s not really smarter than I am.”

  Abruptly tiring of the game, Lumpkin hopped down from his perch and, ignoring both humans, left the room. Liss sighed. She’d welcomed the distraction. Now she had no choice but to once more focus on the reason Gordon Tandy was sitting in her kitchen and drinking her coffee.

  Had someone she knew deliberately poisoned Victor? Had one of her friends taken advantage of the reception she’d arranged to carry out premeditated murder?

  Liss tamped down a spurt of anger at the thought. If it was true, she wanted that person caught and punished. She didn’t have any alternative but to help the police because she was partly responsible for what had happened to Victor. She’d provided the killer with the opportunity to take a life.

  There was a second reason to cooperate with Gordon Tandy, too. The longer his investigation dragged on, the worse things would be for everyone in the troupe. Even now, Fiona was canceling their Monday night performance. Sandy had told her that Strathspey was booked solid for several weeks after that. What happened if the police weren’t satisfied with their answers? Would they be allowed to resume the tour or would they have to miss even more shows?

  If the company’s financial situation was as bad as Sandy and Zara seemed to think, Strathspey couldn’t afford to take that route. Lost revenues combined with refunding what they’d been paid in advance would ruin the company in record time.

  Liss held out a hand. “Let me see that list.”

  Tandy slid it across the tabletop. “She said you’d want to help.”

  “She?”

  “Officer Willett. She’s the one who realized the death was suspicious. And the one who thought to look for the EpiPen in the Student Center.” Gordon Tandy’s smile was a real heart-stopper. “Seemed to me, when she suggested recruiting you to assist in our inquiries, that I’d do well to listen.”

  On Sundays, Dan Ruskin worked at The Spruces, the hotel his father was renovating. It had been a landmark in Moosetookalook when it first opened in 1890, sitting on a little hill above the town and providing jobs for fully half the residents. By the time it had celebrated its hundredth anniversary, however, like so many other “grand hotels,” it had retained only a faint echo of past splendor. Later, standing empty in all its faded glory, it had seemed likely to fall victim to a fire caused by mice chewing on matches, or to be bought by a developer, leveled, and replaced with condominiums.

  That’s when Joe Ruskin, owner of Ruskin Construction, had stepped in. He’d worked at the hotel one summer forty years earlier and fallen under the spell of the place. He was determined to restore as much as possible of the building to its former grandeur and once again open it as a destination resort.

  The project was a labor of love, worked at in every spare moment by Joe and his two sons, Sam and Dan. The money for the project came out of Joe’s pocket, from local investors who believed the hotel could rejuvenate the economy of the entire community, and from a few small historical preservation grants. Somehow, they were scraping by. If their luck and the money didn’t run out, the hotel would reopen on Fourth of July weekend, less than four months away.

  Dan was thinking about that as he gently removed layers of varnish from the decorative ceiling molding in the second-floor ballroom. Taking it down to work on would have been easier, but the wood might have split if they’d tried.

  He was distracted from the task, and his thoughts, by the faint hum of an approaching vehicle’s engine. Curious, since they weren’t expecting anyone else to show up this morning, Dan gave the section he’d been working on one final swipe, descended the ladder, and headed for the nearest window. When he recognized Pete Campbell’s pickup truck, he raised the sash and leaned out.

  “Hey, Pete! Up here. Take the main stairs and hang a left.”

  Pete signaled that he understood and a few minutes later stepped into the room. He gave a low whistle. “You’ve done a lot since the last time I swung by. Lookin’ good.”

  “Thanks. What brings you out this way? You know if Dad sees you you’re likely to be roped into wielding a paintbrush.”

  Pete looked uncomfortable. “You talk to Liss today?”

  “No.” The one-word answer sounded a bit abrupt, even to Dan’s own ears, but he let it go. It was none of Pete’s business that he’d made a fool of himself last night.

  “Then I guess I’d better fill you in.”

  By the time Pete was done, Dan had forgotten all about the stripping he’d planned to complete that day. “Please tell me they don’t suspect Liss.”

  “Not this time, but you’re not going to like what is going down much better. I’m not too thrilled about it myself, but I swear I didn’t know what Sherri was up to until it was too late to stop her.”

  “You said she talked to the state police, to the detective who covers this area.” He knew they’d transferred the officer who’d been in charge the previous summer. Good thing, too. He’d been an incompetent jerk.

  “Right. And she says he seems to know what he’s doing. He actually thanked Sherri for sticking her nose in, and he took the suggestion she made about Liss.”

  “This is the part I’m not going to like, right? What did Sherri suggest?”

  “That Liss could help with the investigation. Because she knows all the likely suspects pretty well. And the victim, too. And Tandy went for it. That’s the detective—Gordon Tandy. He’s from over to Waycross Springs originally. Used to be on the police force there before he went to work for the state.”

  The name meant nothing to Dan, but he was ready to take a piece out of the guy for even thinking of putting Liss on the spot. She’d almost been killed meddling in murder la
st year. He didn’t want her getting involved in something so dangerous again.

  Dan shook his head. Like he’d have anything to say about it! Especially after that fiasco last night. He could hardly go charging in this morning to lecture Liss about being careful.

  “Maybe she’ll turn him down. She won’t want to rat out her friends.”

  “Maybe.” Pete sounded doubtful. “But what if Sherri won’t let this one go? She and Liss are pretty tight.”

  “What are you talking about? Just because Sherri’s the one who found that evidence—”

  “She looked in the first place because she was upset at not being quick enough to figure out what was wrong with the guy. She couldn’t save him. Guess she figures she owes him to find out why he died. And she’s been taking that course in criminal investigation . . .” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Being a corrections officer at the jail is a dead-end job. And boring. Sherri wants to go on the road. Be a patrol deputy like me. Anyway, she’s been learning about crime scenes and something didn’t feel right to her. Guy like that, she figured, doesn’t just forget the antidote he needs to save his own life. So we hunted and she found it.”

  Dan heard the note of pride beneath the frustration.

  “Trouble is, now that she’s got the bit between her teeth, I’m afraid she’s gonna run with it.”

  An hour after Detective Tandy’s arrival, when Sandy and Zara wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee and breakfast, Tandy’s notebook was closed, he was on a first-name basis with Liss, and the two of them were laughing over a mutually remembered incident involving the escape of some sheepherding dogs at a Scottish festival they’d both attended. The dogs had encountered the Clan Chattan mascot, a rather formidable-looking, though tame, Scottish wildcat, and discovered that cats, domestic or otherwise, tend to resist being herded.

  “What’s up?” Sandy asked.

  Liss’s stomach lurched. For a little while there she’d forgotten what it was Gordon wanted her to do. When they’d been talking about Scottish festivals and bagpipe competitions, she’d almost been able to ignore the fact that he was also a detective. They’d simply been two people with common interests. They’d discovered they had a good many mutual acquaintances, both in Carrabassett County and around the country.

  It was a jolt to come back to the present and remember what had brought Detective Tandy to her door. “Victor was murdered,” she blurted.

  Zara almost dropped the mug she’d just filled. Hot coffee sloshed over the sides and onto her hand, making her gasp.

  “You okay?” Sandy asked, reaching for her.

  “I’m fine.” Hastily cleaning up the spill on the countertop, she doctored her coffee with artificial sweetener and nondairy creamer and took a seat at the table. She smiled at Gordon Tandy. “Hi. I’m Zara Lowery. I’m guessing we’re all suspects, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. For the moment.”

  Sandy remained standing, one hip propped against the kitchen counter, as he sipped coffee from a mug that was the twin of Zara’s. “Maybe you should fill us in. Last we knew, Victor’s death was an accident.”

  While Gordon obliged, Liss watched Zara. The other woman listened in tight-lipped silence, her fingers clutching the handle of the coffee mug as if it were a lifeline.

  “I need to talk to each member of Strathspey separately,” Gordon said when he’d given them the bare essentials. “I know what happened, but I don’t know who was behind it or why. I’m hoping you can help me figure that out.”

  Liss offered them the use of the library and led them along the hall and through the living room to the book-lined room. Lumpkin was sleeping on a cushion on a high shelf. He opened one suspicious eye when they walked in, then ignored them.

  “Ladies first?” Gordon waved Zara toward the room’s most comfortable chair. Then he ushered Liss and Sandy back into the living room before he closed the library door.

  “I don’t like this,” Sandy muttered.

  “He’s just doing his job. He’s got to ask questions in order to find out what happened. And I’ve got to make some phone calls. Fiona asked me to arrange for rooms for another night. It’s going to take a while for the police to question everyone.”

  Three brief conversations later, Liss had completed her assignment. The members of Strathspey could remain where they were until Tuesday morning. She sincerely hoped this would all be settled by then.

  “Someone murdered Victor,” Sandy said as Liss plunked herself down beside him on the living room sofa. He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “He pissed off a lot of people.” She shifted on the cushion, curling her legs beneath her and turned so she could see Sandy’s face.

  “Well, yeah, but to kill him like that . . . I mean, I can see one of us—me, even—hauling off and slugging him if he went too far. But this? This was . . .”

  “Premeditated?” Liss suggested.

  She understood what he was saying. He wasn’t exactly grieving for Victor Owens, but even the nastiest people didn’t deserve to die before their time, and to kill in such an underhanded manner seemed particularly vicious. The person responsible must not be allowed to get away with the crime, no matter who he or she was.

  “What’s he doing in there?” Sandy glared at the library door. “How many questions can he possibly have for her?”

  When Liss didn’t answer, he turned an accusing gaze on her.

  “Don’t look at me like that!” Her hand clutched in the soft wool of the afghan thrown over the back of the sofa. “I know it’s frustrating waiting in the wings, but I’m sure Gordon isn’t giving her the third degree.”

  “What did you tell him about her?”

  “The truth, with no elaboration. She did have a relationship with Victor, Sandy.”

  “And now she’s engaged to me.”

  “I told him that, too, and that you’d been making tentative plans to leave Strathspey because Victor was being such an ass.”

  “Crap.”

  He might have said more, but at that moment the door opened and Zara emerged. “He wants to talk to you next, Sandy.”

  “You okay?”

  “Of course. It’s just routine. And he’s a charming man.” She winked at Liss.

  “Can I get you a fresh cup of coffee?” Liss asked Zara when the other woman sank down onto the overstuffed easy chair opposite Liss’s equally comfortable sofa.

  She got no answer. Shrugging, Liss got up and went into the kitchen to refill her own mug. When she returned, Zara was gone. Upstairs, Liss presumed. Had she been more upset than she’d looked? It was hard to tell with Zara. Like so many professional performers, she could look poised and self-confident and be shaking like a leaf inside.

  Liss took her coffee to the Canadian rocker in the bay window and put her feet up on a small hassock. The mystery novel she’d been reading, the latest installment in Kathy Lynn Emerson’s Face Down series of cozy historicals, lay on the round table at her elbow, but Liss wasn’t in the mood to read. Instead she stared out at the neighborhood. She had a clear view across Pine Street to the town square and the brick municipal building on the other side. She could also see more than half the buildings that surrounded the square, including Dan’s house, off to her right in the middle of the Birch Street block.

  His truck was gone from the driveway. Since this was Sunday, he was probably working at The Spruces. Liss still had doubts about Joe Ruskin’s chances of making a success of the place, but there was no questioning his devotion to his pet project. During the week his construction company might build homes, garages, and extra rooms on existing structures, but Joe and his two sons spent most of every weekend at the hotel site, repairing, rebuilding, and retrofitting.

  “That does it for now,” Gordon Tandy said from behind Liss, interrupting her musings. “I’m headed back to Fallstown to talk to each of the others in the company.”

  “Do you want me to come along to introduce you?”

  Gordon actually
seemed to consider it before he shook his head. “No. Better do this on my own. But I may want to talk to you again after I’ve had a chance to question everyone and I may want you with me when I talk to one or two of them a second time.”

  “I’ll do anything I can to help,” Liss assured him. Collecting his coat and hat, she showed him out. She could feel Sandy’s stare boring into her back the whole time and wheeled around to face him the moment she’d closed the front door. “What?”

  “Kind of chummy, aren’t you?”

  “He’s not the enemy, Sandy. He’s trying to find a murderer.”

  “He’s after one of us.”

  She returned to the bay window to watch the state trooper get into his car and drive away. If she’d understood Gordon correctly, he’d call on her only if he needed help persuading one of the troupe to cooperate, or if he needed more information about someone in order to judge if that person was telling him the truth. “Conflicted” pretty much summed up her feelings about the role she’d agreed to play.

  “So what happens now?” Sandy asked.

  “He talks to everyone. He tries to figure out who killed Victor. If no one confesses and he can’t find any hard evidence, things will be in limbo. That could be worse than discovering one of us is a murderer.”

  “How so?”

  “The police will probably want everyone to stay in the area until they figure out who did this.”

  “I don’t think they can enforce that, but even if they can, what’s the big deal? I like your part of the world, Liss.”

  “I’d love to have you and Zara stay longer, too, but that won’t help the company’s bottom line. You’re the one who told me that Strathspey is in financial trouble.”

  “I also told you Zara and I were thinking of leaving. Thanks so much for sharing that with the cop, by the way. He seemed to think our plans were highly suspicious and that we had an ax to grind with Victor.”

  “There’s no point in trying to hide things, Sandy. Keeping secrets, even silly little ones, just makes people look guilty.”