A Wee Christmas Homicide (11 page)

“But what took so long? Moss had the bears days ago.” And why, come to think of it, had
Moss
been ready to let them go for only fifty bucks a bear?

Marcia shrugged. “We’ve been negotiating. He finally agreed to my counteroffer and delivered them this morning.”

A rosy-cheeked woman with a child in tow approached the counter with two Tiny Teddies and a credit card in hand. Marcia lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Do you know where Moss got them?” Liss asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I own them now and they’re selling like hotcakes.” Ignoring Liss, she waited on her customer.

In a thoughtful frame of mind, Liss left Marcia’s shop and belatedly opened Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. It was a slow morning, and would no doubt get even slower once Marcia ran out of the Tiny Teddies she was prepared to sell that day. She had a different selection of bears set aside for Friday and yet another batch selected for Saturday. Any left over on Sunday—and Liss expected there would be only those Marcia had already decided to hold back for the auction—would be sold at the end of the pageant.

Marcia Milliken was either a very clever businesswoman or an extremely shady character. Liss tried to imagine the other woman shooting Thorne in order to steal his bears but the picture refused to come into focus. For one thing, it was a pretty stupid reason to kill someone. For another, Liss had begun to suspect that Marcia’s business plan for the little bears had been devised only in part to maximize her profit. Making just a few available for sale at a time meant she could take the rest of each day off. Liss was sure she was right when Marcia drove by an hour later…towing her snowmobile trailer.

It continued to be quiet into the afternoon. Margaret had gone to the hotel, leaving Liss with no one to talk to. Before long she found herself doodling on a notepad. Eventually, the doodles turned into a list of names.

Eric Moss was number one. He’d supplied Marcia with Tiny Teddies. Had he also supplied Gavin Thorne? Then, had he turned around and taken them after killing the man? She’d always thought Moss was honest. Then again, he
had
met Jason Graye in suspicious circumstances at the town office the night of the selectmen’s meeting. What had that been about?

Graye styled himself an entrepreneur and it was an open secret that he’d run for town selectman only to give himself an “in” to decide zoning questions. That went along with his main occupation—shady real-estate broker. He’d walked a thin legal line in the past, and Liss had no doubt he’d do it again. The question was whether Eric Moss was cut from the same cloth. Maybe, she thought, she should ask Moss that question…and a few others.

No. Maybe
Gordon
should question him. She was supposed to stay out of it. Funny how hard that was to remember.

Telling herself she was engaging in harmless speculation, nothing more, Liss continued to the second name on her list: Felicity Thorne.

Thorne’s ex wife was the most obvious suspect, she supposed. There had been no love lost between them. They’d quarreled shortly before his death. And Felicity had been in town at least once after that. She’d been in the Emporium with Lovey FitzPatrick. Had it only been yesterday afternoon?

Liss wondered how well the two women knew each other. She could ask, she supposed. She had a feeling Lovey would be sticking around until after Sunday’s auction. She might complain about the prices, but she was an avid collector. Such people were addicted to the hunt. Maybe tonight at the hotel, in between the milkmaids and the leaping lords—actually the high school’s men’s gymnastics team—she could find a moment to chat with Ms. FitzPatrick.

The next name on her list wasn’t exactly a name. She’d written “man in gray coat” as number three.

Stu Burroughs was number four on her list. Stu hadn’t liked Gavin Thorne, but Liss had a hard time believing he’d murder the other man. She started to cross out his name, then stopped. Everyone was a suspect at this point.

The sleigh bells over the door jangled loudly and Sherri breezed in. From her happy-as-a-clam expression, Liss concluded that Gordon must still be keeping her in the loop. She felt a small stab of envy.

Sherri zeroed in on Liss’s list. “Your man in the gray coat is named Mark Patton. He’s in the clear as far as we can tell.”

“He’s still in town.”

“There are still bears.” That seemed to say it all.

“Collector?”

“Worse. Dealer. He’s got customers waiting back in Connecticut.”

“You sure he’s off the hook? That’s
two
counts against him.”

“Funny, Liss. There’s a third strike, too. He was in town last Sunday and pretty steamed over Thorne’s prices. He didn’t buy any Tiny Teddies that day.”

“So maybe he helped himself to some later?”

“Then why stick around? Why call attention to himself by pounding on Thorne’s door after the murder?”

“Good point, but I’m not crossing him out.” She gave Sherri a sharp look. “Are you supposed to be sharing information like this?”

“Some things are general knowledge, or soon will be. For example, Felicity Thorne was looking good. Seems her ex never changed his will. She gets The Toy Box and anything else he owned. But she’s got an alibi.”

Sherri skimmed Liss’s list again, then tapped Moss’s name with one short, unpolished fingernail. “Why did you put him at the number one spot?”

Liss gave her a quick recap of Moss’s whispered conversation with Jason Graye at the town office and Marcia’s confidences about her source for the Tiny Teddies. “Has anyone talked to Moss yet?”

“I passed on your suggestion to Gordon, but no one’s been able to track Moss down. He may be off on a buying trip.”

“Marcia saw him just this morning,” Liss said. “Talk to her.”

T
he eight little milkmaids, including ten-year-old Beth Hogencamp, were charming to look at and sang on key. Liss envied them. Her own performance the other night, when Dan finally coaxed it out of her, had left him with a strained expression on his face and a sudden desire, she suspected, to purchase earplugs.

As Liss and Margaret and about two hundred others watched, the nine lords a-leaping launched into a gymnastics routine in the ballroom at The Spruces. They showed enthusiasm and considerable skill, but Liss couldn’t help but be a trifle disappointed.

“They don’t quite match my image of the stanza from the song,” she whispered to her aunt.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Margaret reminded her. “At least they’re crowd pleasers.”

And they
had
given in on the costumes. It couldn’t be easy for teenage boys to appear in public in green tights and tunics. Liss joined in the appreciative applause at the end of their act.

The hotel’s largest function room had been decorated in grand style for the holidays. The scent of evergreen boughs drifted into every corner. Festooned with garlands and twinkling lights, the room was dominated by a twelve-foot Christmas tree placed midway along the window wall.

After the evening’s ceremony closed with another appearance by Jeff Thibodeau as Santa Claus, spectators and performers alike milled about. Hotel employees threaded their way through the crowd with free eggnog, punch, and sugar cookies. An array of other nibblies had been set out on a buffet table and a cash bar at the far end of the room provided stronger libations to those who desired them.

Liss abandoned her aunt to sidle up to Lovey FitzPatrick as the bear collector loaded a plate with fancy crackers, assorted cheese cubes, and carrot sticks. “Good evening, Ms. FitzPatrick. I didn’t think you’d still be in Moosetookalook.”

“I came for the Tiny Teddies. There are still Tiny Teddies to be had.”

“Yes, indeed. You’ll stay for the auction on Sunday, then?”

“That’s the plan.” She moved steadily along the length of the buffet, adding tidbits to the collection on her plate.

“I wonder…do you happen to know how I might contact the former Mrs. Thorne?”

Ms. FitzPatrick’s hand jerked in the act of spearing a thin slice of raw zucchini. “Who?”

“Felicity Thorne. I’m sorry. I assumed you knew her. Her hair is very black but just starting to go gray and I’d say she’s about the same age as her ex husband. She was in the Emporium at the same time you were the other day.”

“Oh. Yes, yes I do vaguely remember someone like that. Didn’t get her name.” Moving more quickly now, Lovey FitzPatrick left the buffet table and sped toward a single empty chair at one of the small tables arranged around the room. To judge by the startled expressions on the faces of those already seated, she was a total stranger to them. That didn’t stop her from plunking herself down and starting to eat.

Interesting, Liss thought. Lovey didn’t want to talk about Felicity Thorne. She wondered why not. She was still pondering that question, considering whether to mention Lovey FitzPatrick’s odd behavior to Gordon, who had just entered the ballroom, when Dan Ruskin materialized behind her. A faint stirring of the air and a whiff of familiar aftershave identified him a moment before he spoke.

“How’s it going?”

“Not too bad.” She glanced over her shoulder to smile at him, but quickly returned her attention to Gordon. She frowned as she watched him make his way toward Stu and Marcia. He had that “official” air about him, which meant he was on duty.

“People seemed to like having the ceremony here,” Dan remarked.

Still keeping her eyes on Gordon, Liss murmured something affirmative.

“You might want to consider continuing to use this venue.”

“What?” That remark captured her full attention.

“I’ve heard several people say how nice it is to be inside and warm. There’s really no reason you have to go back to the town square for the remaining—”

“No reason? There’s every reason! The whole idea was to get customers into our shops and they, in case you’ve forgotten, are located downtown.”

“But by the time you hold the ceremonies in the evening, stores have closed for the night anyway. Why not move all that here, where it’s more comfortable?”

“And the final pageant? What about that? It’s scheduled for Sunday afternoon.”

“Hey, don’t bite my head off. I’m just trying to help. Do you really want people to see the boarded-up window and the crime scene tape when they’re supposed to be thinking happy thoughts about the holidays?”

He was right, drat him!

“You could start off in the town square and march everyone—well everyone who
can
march—up here for the final performances. A parade.”

“In winter?”

“Why not? Farmington just held their annual Chester Greenwood Day parade a week or two ago.” Chester Greenwood, Liss recalled, was the native Mainer famous for inventing earmuffs.

The change in venue wasn’t a bad suggestion, but she hated to have to alter her original plan. Again. “I’ll think about it.”

Pointedly ignoring Dan, she once more looked around for Gordon, but he’d done a disappearing act. So had Marcia and Stu.

Marcia? Should she have put the other woman on her list of suspects, after all? Could the consignment shop owner have lied about how she’d acquired her current batch of Tiny Teddies? If she’d stolen them from Thorne’s inventory instead of buying them from Eric Moss…wait a minute!

Inventory!

Liss gave herself a mental slap upside the head. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Thorne must have made a list of the Tiny Teddies he had in stock. Maybe he’d even indicated where they’d come from—Eric Moss or some other source. If Sherri could get a look at it….

“I don’t like that look in your eye,” Dan muttered.

“I was
thinking,
that’s all.”

“Thinking about Gordon Tandy?”

“I want to tell him to talk to her.” Liss gestured toward the table where Lovey had taken refuge, but Lovey FitzPatrick was no longer sitting there. Only her plate remained, still overflowing with food from the buffet. “Well, pooh!”

“You were going to stay out of this investigation,” Dan reminded her.

Liss sighed. “I don’t want to be involved. Really. But if I have an idea that I think might help, then there’s nothing wrong with sharing it with the authorities.” It
was
frustrating not knowing what was going on, but she didn’t confide that feeling to Dan. He was overprotective enough as it was.

“I’d think you’d have too much on your plate to have time to worry about solving Tandy’s case for him, what with the two remaining ceremonies and the pageant and all. And I still think—” He broke off when Liss slanted him a quelling look. He sent her a sheepish grin. “Can’t blame me for trying. I’m
supposed
to look out for the hotel. Bring in new business and all that.”

Liss considered for a moment longer and felt a slow smile creep over her face. She stuck out a hand to grasp his and shake it. “Congratulations. You talked me into it. We’ll move everything here for tomorrow evening and Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon.”

Because he knew her so well, suspicion tinged Dan’s response. “Great, but…?”

“Oh, didn’t you realize? You’ll have to take charge of the…participants. I’ll see to it that the crates of poultry are delivered to The Spruces first thing in the morning.”

“So I was thinking,” Sherri said, “that if you boot up the computer you took from The Toy Box and take a gander at Gavin Thorne’s inventory, you might find a description of the Tiny Teddies Thorne acquired to replace the first lot.”

“And this would help how?” Gordon Tandy wore his skeptical face.

“Well, then you’d know for sure if any were taken from the crime scene.”

God! This had sounded so simple when Liss suggested it. Take a peek at the inventory. Discover if the bears that were missing had been wearing the same outfits as those now in Marcia’s consignment shop. Liss had even given her a flyer with some of Marcia’s bears pictured.

Gordon, however, wasn’t making things easy. He’d been working at his laptop when she rapped on the door of the P.D. Her own office had been commandeered for temporary use by the state police. Gordon hadn’t stopped tapping on keys once since she started her spiel.

At last he looked up at her. His expression was not encouraging, so his words surprised her. “It’s not a bad idea.”

Silence.

Sherri rolled her eyes. “But?”

“We’ve been working on the theory that Thorne surprised a thief who was after the money in his cash register. Why do you think the bears were the target?”

“Because they’re
missing.”
She restrained the impulse to add a “duh!” to the end of that sentence. It would be a really bad idea to tick off the man in charge.

“Or they were sold.”

“Or they were sold,” she conceded.

Gordon drummed his fingertips on the desktop. “The cash register was empty. The gun Thorne usually kept nearby was gone. Those facts we know. Anything concerning stolen Tiny Teddies is pure speculation.”

“That doesn’t make theft any less possible,” Sherri argued.

His lips twitched. “And I assume you’re about to suggest that I assign you to take a look at the records, right?”

“Why not? I used to work at the Emporium. I know how inventories are set up.” At his skeptical expression, her back stiffened and her chin came up defiantly. “Look, Gordon, you’re the one who wanted me for local intel. This is part of the package. Furthermore, I could be a lot more effective if you’d share
all
the information you have. Right now, half the time, I feel like I’m playing blindman’s buff!”

“This isn’t a game, Sherri.”

“I know that. And I’m not an amateur. I’ve had police training. Okay, I don’t have as much experience as you do, but I know I can help find Thorne’s killer.”

Oh, Lord! She was
whining.
That wasn’t going to help her case.

She had the uneasy suspicion that Gordon Tandy was laughing at her, but at least he
tried
to hide it. Her knees went weak with relief when he turned the screen of his laptop toward her. She sank into the visitor’s chair she’d been too agitated to take before and scanned the file in front of her.

It didn’t show an inventory page, but rather a ledger sheet on which Thorne had recorded the purchase of the new batch of bears. Under Tuesday’s date he had entered an expenditure of “two thousand dollars (cash)” for “forty Tiny Teddies (assorted).”

“That’s it? No descriptions? No source?”

“Dead end,” Gordon affirmed, leaning back in Jeff Thibodeau’s rump-sprung chair.

“How many sold? Could he have run out?”

“There Thorne’s bookkeeping stops being helpful. He didn’t enter the bears into his inventory program. They don’t show up all nicely itemized on his cash register receipts. In fact, my guess is that he sold them off the record, hoping to avoid the hassle of income and sales tax. It’s possible he unloaded all forty, but there’s no way to tell.”

Sherri bounced to her feet again and began to pace the confines of the small room. “No. No, he’d want to keep a few back, just the way Marcia has. He’d know he could get even higher prices for them. There must have been at least one or two in the shop, or in his apartment, when he died.”

Gordon’s intense dark eyes bored into her. “You really think the killer was after the bears?”

“I know it sounds absurd, but yes. And suddenly, after Thorne’s death, Marcia Milliken has more bears.”

“That’s Marcia Katz, right? From the consignment shop?” Gordon scribbled a note to himself but Sherri could not decipher his handwriting.

“Did you know Marcia and her husband when they lived in Waycross Springs?” Sherri was aware that Gordon had been born and bred and still lived there. Waycross Springs and Moosetookalook weren’t far apart as the crow flew but it took almost an hour to drive between them along the winding, roller-coaster roads of rural Carrabassett County.

“Slightly.” He shrugged. Residents of small towns tended to know all their neighbors, at least to nod to.

“Anyway,” Sherri continued, “I know Marcia bought her Tiny Teddies from Eric Moss, but—”

Gordon’s chair hit the floor with a resounding thump. “Back up. What’s this about Marcia and Moss?”

Genuinely surprised, Sherri blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “But I thought you questioned Marcia last night. Liss saw—”

“Liss MacCrimmon! I should have known. I thought I warned you about talking to her.”

“She just mentioned that she saw you—”

“She didn’t see me talking to Marcia because I didn’t talk to Marcia.” Gordon glared at Sherri, which put her back up.

“Small town, remember? Liss saw you. She saw Marcia. She jumped to a conclusion.”

Gordon rubbed his temples, as if the entire subject of Liss MacCrimmon gave him a headache. “Sorry. Overreacted. I don’t want her involved.”

“I know.”

He was worried Liss would get herself into trouble…again.

Wearily, Gordon waved Sherri back into the visitor’s chair. “You are not to repeat one word of anything you hear in this office to Liss MacCrimmon, is that clear? She almost got herself killed the last time she meddled in a murder investigation. I’m not taking any risks with her safety this time around.”

“No problem.” Sherri perched on the front edge of the seat. “But you should know that it was Liss who made me think that what the bears were wearing might help. It was a good thought. They’re limited editions. If Marcia’s bears are wearing the same outfits as some of the ones Thorne had…well, that would make her supplier—Eric Moss—a suspect, right?”

“My officers interviewed every Toy Box customer they could locate. Some of them gave descriptions of the Tiny Teddies they saw. Others showed off the bears they bought on Tuesday. None of the descriptions matched those we identified as being in the consignment shop. Someone
did
check, even on the Tiny Teddies Marcia is keeping back for the auction on Sunday.”