A View to a Kilt Page 5

  “What was it about him that put you in mind of your father?”

  Liss had to think for a moment. Relief flooded through her when the answer surfaced. “It’s the color of his hair. That’s all. There isn’t really any resemblance otherwise.” She attempted a joke. “You know what they say, all old white guys look alike.”

  Cussler didn’t crack a smile. “You’re sure you don’t know him?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Then why, I wonder, was he killed in your backyard?”

  * * *

  Liss was very late opening up the Emporium. She’d considered not going to work at all, but after her interview with Detective Cussler, she was glad to have an excuse to take the dogs and escape from the house. Evidence technicians were still swarming over her backyard and would probably be there for hours. Cussler was talking to the neighbors.

  After she put Dandy and Dondi in the fenced-in area at the back of the building, she fired up the computer, but hesitated over flipping the CLOSED sign to OPEN. She didn’t have to unlock the door. She could spend the day filling orders, and maybe start doing an inventory of her stock.

  A small, humorless laugh escaped her. As if that would keep friends and family from plaguing her with questions! They’d simply pound on the door until she unlocked it and let them in.

  Five minutes after she opened the Emporium, her mother arrived, closely followed by her father. The sight of Donald “Mac” MacCrimmon’s familiar, easygoing smile, even when it was tempered by the look of concern in his eyes, propelled her straight into his arms. She hugged him so fiercely that he let out a grunt of protest.

  “Hey there, sweetheart. Go easy on your old man.”

  “You’re not that old.”

  He’d be seventy-one on his next birthday, less than a month away. With the exception of widespread arthritis, which had first appeared when he was still in his fifties—and had since been alleviated by a series of surgeries, what he termed “very good drugs,” and visits to a local chiropractor—he was in good physical condition. A few inches taller than his daughter, he stood without stooping and had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair—more salt these days than pepper—that many a woman his age might envy.

  Liss reached up to touch the lock that habitually fell forward over his forehead. It had been a similar hank of hair she’d seen when Detective Cussler pulled back the flap on the body bag. For one awful moment she’d thought—

  “What is it, honey? We heard the police were called to the house and they’re obviously still there. It’s not Dan, is it?”

  “Of course it’s not Dan.” Liss’s mother sounded impatient. “She’d hardly open the Emporium if her husband had been hurt, and certainly not if he were under arrest.”

  Liss wasn’t surprised that her parents had heard something was up. News, both good and bad, traveled fast in rural communities. She gave her father one last hug and stepped back.

  “Dan found a dead man in our backyard this morning. We don’t know who he is, but for just a second, when I looked at him, something about him made me think of you, Dad. It freaked me out.”

  “Well, for goodness’ sake!” Vi exclaimed.

  Mac looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “You know what they say,” he joked.

  In unison all three of them said, “All old white guys look alike.” With the exception of Detective Cussler, most people found the quip at least mildly amusing.

  Vi herded her husband and daughter into the stockroom and set about making coffee. She chattered nervously as she worked. “Funny you should say that. I was watching one of those British mysteries on PBS the other night and I swear every single suspect was a gray-haired white man in his sixties. It was a real challenge to tell them apart.”

  Mac kept his attention on Liss. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll survive. I’m just grateful the murder victim didn’t turn out to be anyone we knew.”

  “Murder?” Vi sent her a reproachful look. “You didn’t say it was a homicide.”

  “I thought all the cop cars might have given you a clue.” Liss’s voice was dry as dust.

  After they’d carried their coffee out to the comfortable seating in the shop’s cozy corner, Liss filled her parents in on what little she knew. She’d scarcely finished outlining the sketchy details when the bell over the door jangled and Stu Burroughs joined them. Liss was surprised it had taken him this long to turn up, given that the ski shop was right next door to the Emporium and Stu lived in the apartment on the second floor.

  After he fetched himself a cup of coffee, Liss went through the story again for his benefit. He didn’t sit down to listen, but bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, as if the constant motion would somehow make it easier to absorb what she was telling him. He hadn’t bothered putting on a coat over the cherry-red shirt he wore. The more he jiggled, the more he reminded Liss of a bowl of Jell-O.

  The bell sounded again to admit Maud Dennison, the retired schoolteacher who managed Carrabassett County Wood Crafts, the storefront located on the other side of the Emporium. She lost no time demanding details, since she, too, had noticed all the police activity at Liss and Dan’s house.

  When Liss repeated what she’d just told Stu, Maud shook a head topped with short iron-gray curls. “Well, I never! Liss Ruskin, you are a positive magnet for all kinds of trouble.”

  “Oh, unfair! I didn’t ask for someone to be murdered in my backyard.”

  “Why was he there, then?”

  Detective Cussler had asked the same question. Liss still didn’t have an answer.

  “Here’s a better question,” Stu said “How did he get there? It’s not a place where someone could end up by accident.”

  “Hard to get back there at this time of year,” Mac agreed. “Except through the house or maybe the garage?”

  “No one went through the house,” Liss assured him. Before she could say more, the door opened yet again.

  “What on earth is going on over to your house?” demanded Dolores Mayfield.

  “I should make a recording,” Liss muttered.

  Her father chuckled. Her mother frowned.

  “Good morning, Dolores,” Liss said with patently false politeness. “Can I help you find something? A gift, perhaps?”

  “You can answer my question,” the librarian shot back, “and for your information, it’s afternoon.”

  Taller than Maud, but not as heavy, Dolores towered over the more petite Violet MacCrimmon. She aimed a steely glare at Liss. It lost none of its force for passing through small, rimless spectacles with thick lenses and traveling down a long thin nose before it reached her.

  Liss glanced at the clock. “So it is. How time flies when you’re having a good time.”

  Her sarcasm prompted a small sound of disapproval from her mother. Liss ignored it. As Vi had already pointed out, the mere fact that Liss had opened the Emporium signaled that whatever the reason for the heavy police presence at her house, neither she nor Dan had been seriously hurt or was in danger of imminent incarceration. The good people of Moosetookalook might be concerned for her well-being, but mostly they were just plain nosy.

  Dolores Mayfield was the biggest gossip in Moosetookalook. Whatever Liss told her would be spread far and wide. Whether it would remain the same after each retelling was anybody’s guess. Before she could decide how much to share, the bell over the entrance jangled yet again. This time it was Moosetookalook’s postmaster, Julie Simpson, who entered.

  “Everybody okay?” The husky brunette hadn’t lost her nasal New York accent in spite of all the years she’d lived in Maine.

  “Fine and dandy,” Liss said. “Come on in and join the party.”

  “I don’t mind if I do.” Since Julie was the only postal employee in their small town, she was permitted to close the post office between noon and one.

  “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,” Liss muttered as the door opened one more time.

  Nicole and Fred Lounsbur
y slipped warily inside. They were retirees from the corporate world who’d moved out of the city to follow their dream of operating a small business. Now they owned the jewelry store on the far side of Julie’s post office. They were quickly followed by two more Moosetookalook shopkeepers: Gloria Weir from Ye Olde Hobbie Shoppe and Angie Hogencamp of Angie’s Books. Gloria, pale-skinned, green-eyed, and ginger-haired, had a tentative look on her face, and her usual wide smile was conspicuously absent. Angie was better at hiding her concern, but Liss could see the worry in her doelike eyes. In the past she’d had dealings of her own with the police. Some of them had not gone well.

  “We may as well convene a meeting of the Moosetookalook Small Business Association,” Liss quipped. “With March Madness only fifteen days away, I’m sure there must be some potential crisis we can discuss.”

  Julie laughed. “Such a kidder,” she said just before she ducked into the stockroom, no doubt intending to scrounge a cup of coffee.

  Liss sighed. She shouldn’t resent her neighbors for being interested. If any of them were in the middle of a similar crisis, wouldn’t she be one of the first to check on their well-being?

  From among those who regularly attended MSBA meetings, the only one missing, besides Dan, was Patsy from Patsy’s Coffee House. Liss felt certain she’d have joined them by now if she hadn’t been busy waiting on paying customers. At that thought an awful suspicion popped into her mind. A glance through the shop’s plate glass window confirmed it. The press had arrived. They were camped out at the café. Patsy’s windows offered an excellent view of police activity at Liss and Dan’s house.

  “So?” Dolores prompted her. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on?”

  Liss gave in. She told her story, what little there was of it, to the people who were her neighbors and friends.

  “Let me get this straight,” Dolores said when Liss fell silent. “Dan discovered the body of an unidentified man in your backyard this morning?”

  “Right. He probably died sometime during the night.”

  Questions bombarded her from all sides.

  “How did he get there?”

  “Who was he?”

  “Why are the cops still there?”

  “They have to be called in for an unattended death,” Gloria said in answer to the last one.

  “Not that many of them, and not for so long.” Dolores looked smug. “We’re talking about a case of murder.”

  “Are we?” Angie turned to Liss for confirmation.

  “It looks that way.” She refrained from adding further details.

  Her mother took up the slack. “From what Liss told Mac and me, I’d say his death was caused by blunt-force trauma to the back of the skull.”

  After a moment of silence, during which everyone attempted to digest this information, Stu spoke up. “Are you sure you don’t know who the guy was?”

  “Positive. That new state cop, a woman named Cussler, made me take a good look at him.” She repressed another shudder at the memory. “He wasn’t anyone I’d ever seen before. Dan said the same. The victim was no one we knew. A stranger. In his sixties, at a guess. Maybe older.”

  “A tramp?” Nicole Lounsbury reached up to fiddle with the volume control on her hearing aids to make sure she could hear their response to her suggestion.

  “A thief, more likely,” Gloria said with a sniff. “And how can you be sure he was murdered? Maybe he was planning to break into your house and rob you and slipped on a patch of ice and hit his head.”

  “The major crimes unit doesn’t show up for accidents,” Dolores reminded her.

  Liss picked up her coffee mug. The contents had gone cold, but she took a sip anyway. She needed a moment to consider before she said much more. Was there any harm in sharing everything she knew? Detective Cussler hadn’t sworn her to silence.

  “It looks as if someone struck him on the head with one of the tree limbs that came down during the last storm.”

  Speculation ran rampant after that, until Julie’s lunch hour came to an end and the others realized they’d spent far too long away from their shops. They drifted off reluctantly. Although the library wasn’t open on Fridays, Dolores had work waiting for her there, and even Liss’s parents had made plans to take in a matinee at the movie theater in Fallstown.

  “We can stay here if you’d like company,” Vi offered.

  “Thanks, but no.” Liss shooed them out after the others.

  As soon as she was alone, she felt a deep sense of relief. She was in no mood to deal with anyone else. Thrill seeker, concerned citizen, or just plain nosy parker—she’d had enough of other people. The way she felt at the moment, she could happily spend the next week in total solitude. Without a qualm she turned the sign back to CLOSED and locked the door.

  Chapter Four

  The next day, a Saturday, was less stressful, although it seemed to Liss as if everyone in town who had not stopped by the Emporium the previous day now found an excuse to come in and ask questions. She was tempted to post an I KNOW NOTHING, GO BOTHER THE POLICE sign in the window and go home. The only reason she didn’t was that a few of the gawkers actually bought something to justify their nosiness. Besides, it was easier to look after Dandy and Dondi when they were close to their fenced-in dog run. For once, the weather was bright and sunny enough that she could leave them outside for extended periods of time. There were places where they could curl up and stay warm and dry when they tired of playing in the snow.

  Sherri arrived around noon, bringing with her a bag of goodies from Patsy’s Coffee House. Liss could have wept at the sight of the homemade whoopie pies her friend had selected for their dessert. Chocolate made everything better.

  “I meant to come over last night to see how you and Dan were doing,” Sherri said between bites of ham and cheese on a bulky roll. “Are you holding up okay?”

  Liss finished chewing before she answered. “Better than the guy in our backyard.”

  Her attempt at flippancy fell flat. Although the crime scene people had been gone by the time she returned home, the yellow tape remained as a reminder that a man had died by violence only a few feet from her back door.

  She and Dan had spent the first part of their evening deleting messages from the answering machine and fielding new calls. After he’d talked to his father, his brother, and his sister, he’d unplugged the landline and turned off his cell. Liss had quickly followed suit.

  “Did Kelly Cussler talk to either of you again?” Sherri asked.

  “Her first name is Kelly?” It seemed too soft, somehow, for such a hard-nosed cop.

  “She didn’t show you her ID?”

  “She did, but I was too rattled to pay proper attention. Anyway, no, she didn’t have any more questions for me, and Dan spent the day in his shop. He kept an eye on the activity just outside, but he was out of the loop. The state troopers all ignored him.”

  “That’s not entirely a bad thing.” Sherri reached for the can of Moxie she’d brought for herself and took a long swallow.

  Liss grimaced. Maine’s official soft drink was an acquired taste. Personally, she thought it was too bitter to be enjoyable. As part of her campaign to cut back on caffeine, she was drinking bottled water with her lunch.

  “Have they identified the dead man?”

  “Not that I know of,” Sherri answered, “but Cussler isn’t under any obligation to keep me informed.”

  They finished their sandwiches in silence. The question that had plagued Liss the day before still nagged at her: Why had a total stranger been killed on their property?

  “I really hope Detective Cussler is good at her job,” she muttered, reaching for a whoopie pie.

  A short time later, just as Sherri was leaving, Liss caught sight of Jerrilyn Jones crossing the town square and heading straight for the Emporium. She was the star reporter for the Daily Scoop. She was also the only reporter and the publisher’s daughter.

  “Damn.”

  Following the direct
ion of her friend’s gaze, Sherri responded with a sympathetic look. “You could lock the door and turn the Open sign back to Closed.”

  Liss squared her shoulders. “She’ll just keep after me. I may as well get this over with now. Hello, Jerrilyn,” she said in a faux-friendly voice as the reporter started up the front steps. “Just let me bring in Margaret’s Scotties and then we’ll talk.”

  Dandy and Dondi had been out long enough, warmish day or not. More important, they’d provide a distraction if Liss needed one. The police would not appreciate it if she speculated about the crime and her comments ended up quoted in a newspaper article.

  Young, eager, and personally unaffected by the murder, Jerrilyn claimed she was only after the “human interest” angle. Liss still found her questions intrusive and the answers she gave were monosyllabic.

  “How about a guided tour of the murder scene?” Jerrilyn suggested. “I could get a picture of you pointing to the place where your husband found the body. Or, better yet, you could both be in it.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Jerrilyn’s face fell, making her look like a child who’d been denied a treat, but Liss was too emotionally drained to have sympathy to spare. As soon as the reporter left, she retreated into the stockroom. She’d have been happy to do nothing but pack online orders for the rest of the afternoon, but her work was interrupted over and over again until it seemed to her that every single resident of Moosetookalook had managed to stop by for a chat. By closing time her patience was worn so thin that it was almost transparent.

  She’d just locked the front door when the bulky form of Moose Mayfield heaved into view from the direction of Carrabassett County Wood Crafts. He staggered up the steps to the Emporium’s porch, shaded his eyes with his hands, and peered owlishly at her through the glass panel in the door. A perplexed expression came over his moon-shaped face when he turned the knob and nothing happened.

  “Sorry.” Liss pointed to the CLOSED sign. “Come back tomorrow.”

  He stared at it as if he’d never seen such a thing before. “Be a sport, Liss. Let me in. Gotta ask you something about all those cops.”