Kilt at the Highland Games (12 page)

“Oh, yeah.” For just a second, he was Gordon instead of Detective Tandy. There might even have been a twinkle in his eyes, although it was too dark to tell. Then he was all business again. “How long were you there?”

“Only long enough to make sure sudden loud noises weren't going to bother them. Then I met Dan, who was waiting in the car in front of the Emporium, and we headed for the hotel.”

“Along Pine Street to Lowe? Why didn't you take Ash to get to Main?”

“Have you
seen
what's left of Angie's store?”

Clearly he had not and therefore couldn't possibly understand how much the sight of that burned-out shell upset her. It was bad enough that she could see it from both her shop and her house. She tried to avoid confronting the ruins head on, as they would have if Dan had turned right at the post office and driven along Ash Street. Considerate, as always, he'd chosen an alternate route.

Gordon returned to the sound Liss had heard. “You were sure it was a gunshot?”

“I knew it wasn't part of the fireworks display.”

“So you stopped?”

Liss nodded. “Dan heard it, too.”

“You didn't think that might be dangerous?”

“I . . . I don't know what we thought. And then I saw someone moving away from the side of Graye's house.”

“Moving? Not running?”

Liss frowned. “I only saw it for a second. A shape.” She didn't think she'd imagined it.

“And then?”

“We found the front door open and went in and found Jason Graye's body.” All of a sudden, Liss started to shake. The delayed reaction took her by surprise and left Gordon at a momentary loss for words.

He flipped his notebook closed and pocketed it and the pencil, then seized her by the elbow to propel her toward his cruiser. He was just stuffing her into the passenger seat when Dan rushed over, closely followed by the uniformed trooper.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, Tandy? You can't arrest my wife.”

“I'm not arresting her. I'm taking her home and pouring her a stiff drink. You can meet us there as soon as you've finished giving your statement.”

Liss squeezed her eyes tightly shut when they passed Angie's Books. The burned-out building was on Gordon's side of the cruiser. She assumed that he got a good look at it.

Moments later, he stopped in front of her house.

Nothing was very far away from anything else in Moosetookalook.

By the time Gordon had her settled on the living room sofa with both cats in her lap, Dan caught up with them. There was no sign of the uniformed state trooper.

“I'm okay,” Liss insisted when he started to fuss over her. “I just got the shakes for a minute there. I do
not
want a glass of medicinal brandy.”

“Hot chocolate, then?”

When she nodded, Dan headed for the kitchen to make a cup of her preferred restorative. He was back in less than five minutes with her drink. Glowering at Gordon, he handed it over and plunked himself down next to her on the sofa. He had to take Glenora onto his lap to make room.

Gordon ignored him and resumed his interrogation. “Can you describe the person you saw leaving the scene?”

“Not really. All I saw was a dark shape.”

Liss took a sip of her drink, burned her tongue, and grimaced. At least chocolate tasted better than brandy. She'd never been able to understand why so many people tried to push alcohol on someone who'd had a shock. Something sweet, with a hint of caffeine, worked much better as a pick-me-up.

“A man?” Gordon asked.

“It could have been either a man or a woman.”

“Size?” Gordon asked.

“Not obese, but beyond that I can't really say.” She stroked Lumpkin's soft, thick coat with her free hand. The deep rumble of his purr was wonderfully soothing. “I wouldn't want to make a guess as to age, either.”

“Is there anything you can remember about the way the figure moved?”

Liss shook her head.

“As I recall,” Gordon said slowly, “you never much liked Jason Graye.”

“Very few people did, but if you're asking if I shot him, the answer is no.”

This time she couldn't mistake the oddness of the expression that crossed his face. With exaggerated care, she set her mug on the end table and leaned toward him.

“What? He
was
shot, wasn't he?”

“It wasn't a bullet that killed him.” Cop face firmly in place, he didn't say anything more.

Frustrated, Liss glared at him.

“Don't stop there, Tandy,” Dan said. “It's not like we're going to blab to the press.”

“And if you don't explain, we're liable to let slip what we
thought
happened.” Liss sent Gordon her sweetest and most insincere smile. “I know you don't want us to do that.”

“The medical examiner is the one who rules on cause of death.”

Liss waited.

“It looked to me as if he was stabbed through the heart with a blade of some kind.”

Startled, Liss sat up straighter. Her hand clenched in Lumpkin's fur, causing him to dig his claws into her leg. “Stabbed? Not shot?”

“Stabbed. Not shot. I take it neither of you saw a knife?”

“No knife,” Liss confirmed.

“No gun, either,” Dan said, “but the more I think about it, the more certain I am that what we heard was a gunshot.”

Gordon's cell phone buzzed before he could either explain or ask more questions. He answered, listened, and ended the call abruptly. “Looks like we're both right. They've just found a bullet in the wall opposite where Graye fell.”

“Graye shot at someone and missed, and then whoever it was stabbed him?” Just imagining that scenario made Liss queasy.

“Looks that way.” Gordon sent her a stern look. “That information goes no farther than this room. Understood?”

Liss nodded. Beside her, she felt Dan do the same.

“The autopsy results will be made public when we have them. Until then, you don't answer questions from anyone but me or another detective working on the case.”

“Fine,” Dan said. “Are we done here?”

“Not quite. You said the front door was open when you got there?”

Liss nodded. “That must mean it was someone he knew,” she whispered. “Why else would he let them in?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Gordon shrugged. “I never had any dealings with Graye myself, but I've heard plenty about him over the years. He made enemies. Is there anyone just lately with whom he had a run in?”

Liss's expression gave her away before she said a word.

Gordon leaned toward her. “Liss? Do you know someone who had a bone to pick with Jason Graye?”

Liss felt her tension ratchet up a notch.

Dan left off stroking Glenora to catch her hand in his and give it a squeeze. “He's going to find out anyway, Liss. You may as well be the one to tell him.”

He was right. Liss cleared her throat. “There
has
been a bit of controversy this past week,” she said, “concerning the Moosetookalook Public Library.”

Chapter Ten

G
ordon Tandy left soon after Liss filled him in on the conflict between Jason Graye and Dolores Mayfield and gave him her account of the events that had taken place at the meeting at the Mayfield house. Standing by her front window, she watched him drive away. She was relieved to see him go, but she was far from happy that she'd had to rat out Dolores and Moose.

A little sigh escaped her, loud enough for Dan to hear. He came up beside her and took her hands in his. “I know what you're thinking, Liss, but you didn't have any choice. Besides, there are plenty of other people who would have told the police about Moose Mayfield shooting off his mouth, and his gun, if you hadn't.”

“I still feel guilty. Because of what I just told him, Gordon must think he's found a likely pair of suspects. Not just Moose, but Dolores, too.”

“If Graye
had
been shot, then maybe. But—”

She freed one hand and smacked him on the upper arm. “Did you not
see
the collection of weapons Dolores had on display in her living room? Swords. Knives. Heck, she probably has a pair of fencing foils tucked away somewhere. And I know Stu was just trying to get her goat when he was ribbing her about giving a talk and charging admission, but it sounded to me as if she's been interested in bladed weapons for a long, long time.”

“You couldn't prove it by me. That was the first time I was ever inside the Mayfield house.”

“Same here. Dolores's wall decorations came as a bit of a shock.” She managed a weak smile. “I always thought there were no secrets in a small town, but I'd never have guessed that one.”

“And I'd never have pegged Moose as a henpecked husband. Let's look on the bright side. At least you and I aren't on Tandy's short list.”

“Don't kid yourself. The person who discovers the body is always a suspect.”

Rather than try to cheer her up with words, Dan simply took her in his arms and held her. That might have led to further cuddling, had someone not chosen that moment to rap on their front door.

Liss peeked through the curtains just as Margaret Boyd called her name.

“I know you're in there,” she added. “I want to know what's going on!”

Dan muttered something indistinct and probably profane.

“She's only here because she cares,” Liss whispered. In a louder voice, she called, “Coming, Margaret!”

Once the door was open, Margaret paused on the threshold long enough to take a good long look at her niece. Seeing no bruises, blood, or bandages, she bustled through to the living room and plunked herself down on the sofa. She patted the cushion beside her.

“Sit down here and explain yourself. Why couldn't you tell me what was happening when we spoke on phone? Why didn't you come back to The Spruces for the fireworks? And what on earth is going on over on Lowe Street?”

Liss took the seat Margaret indicated. Dan had already disappeared. She could hear him rattling around in the kitchen and hoped he was making another batch of hot chocolate.

“There's not much to tell.” She hesitated, remembering Gordon's warning against sharing information that hadn't yet been made public. Still, there was nothing to stop her from revealing the two most important facts. “Jason Graye is dead. Dan and I found his body.”

For a moment, Margaret's expression went entirely blank. Then she blinked and gave a low whistle. Liss could almost hear the gears turning as Margaret thought over what Liss had said and what she herself had seen on her way home from the hotel.

“I thought I saw state police cruisers. Graye isn't just dead, is he? He was murdered.”

So much for Gordon's attempt to keep the news under wraps. “Yes, he was murdered.”

“Well, if that don't beat all! Oh, thank you, my dear.” Margaret accepted the mug of hot chocolate Dan handed her and cradled it in both hands.

He passed Liss her refill and, carrying a third mug, retreated to the recliner. Glenora, perched on the back, didn't move when Dan settled in and put the footrest up. Lumpkin was nowhere in sight.

Margaret blew on the hot liquid and took a tentative sip. “Lovely. But how on earth did you two end up being first on the scene of a crime? You didn't kill him, did you?” A twitch of Margaret's lips assured Liss that this wasn't a serious suggestion.

“It was pure chance and an unfortunate series of events,” Dan said from his chair. “If we hadn't decided to come home for supper, we wouldn't have been involved at all.”

Margaret frowned. “Oh, dear. That means I'm partly to blame. If I hadn't asked you to check on the dogs—”

“No! You mustn't think that.”

“You'd have been safely back at The Spruces if not for me. Unless he was killed much earlier?”

Liss shook her head, but did not elaborate. “Go ahead and feel guilty, Margaret. There's plenty to go around. I was the one who wanted to eat supper at home. Dan is the one who chose that route back to the hotel instead of the more usual one.”

How long, she wondered, would Graye's body have gone undiscovered if they hadn't happened by?

Then another thought struck her, this one even more unsettling. Dolores Mayfield wasn't the only one who'd been at odds with Jason Graye. Only a week ago, Graye and Margaret had gone at it at the selectmen's work session because Graye had canceled the parade. As a motive for murder, it was pretty thin, but that did not excuse Liss's failure to mention her aunt to Gordon as a possible suspect. She'd been willing to throw Dolores to the wolves. What had stopped her from remembering to add Margaret to Graye's list of enemies?

She told herself that the answer was simple enough. Margaret was obviously innocent, since she'd been at the hotel at the time of the murder. There must be a hundred people who could vouch for that. The same could not be said for Dolores or Moose. Even so, the lie by omission troubled Liss's conscience.

Unaware of her niece's thoughts, Margaret sipped hot chocolate and contemplated what she'd been told. “Was he killed outside his house?”

Liss shook her head. Margaret's question was taking them close to forbidden territory, not that she supposed any of the details of the murder would stay secret much longer.

“Inside then. Well, I suppose he was killed by someone he ripped off in a real estate deal.” Frowning, she added, “I can't help wishing the killer had waited until
after
this weekend to do him in. Or, better yet, had murdered him somewhere else entirely. Neither the Highland Games nor this town needs the kind of bad publicity murder generates.”

“I'm sure Jason Graye would have preferred not to be murdered at all.”

Margaret winced at Dan's sarcasm. “Oh, my dears! I'm so sorry. I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm overtired, I guess. And appallingly insensitive!” She abandoned her mug on the end table. “You've had a terrible experience, and here I go saying thoughtless things right and left.”

“You're only saying what lots of other folks in town will be thinking,” Liss assured her. “Jason Graye never went out of his way to make friends, not even when he was running for selectman.”

Rising from the sofa, Margaret briefly rested one hand on Liss's shoulder. “We'll just have to make the best of a bad situation. Fortunately, there are one or two little things I can do to spin the story in a more favorable direction. You get a good night's sleep and leave everything to me.”

Liss regarded her aunt through wary eyes. “What are you up to now?”

Margaret ignored her question. She was already halfway to the front door. “I really need to get going. Dandy and Dondi will be wondering what's keeping me. I'm rarely this late getting home.”

Liss didn't move from the sofa. Her legs felt as if they were made of lead. It took all the energy she had left to set aside her untouched mug. The hot chocolate had stopped working its magic after the first infusion.

Dan followed Margaret to the front door and locked it behind her. He returned to stand in front of Liss, both hands extended toward her. “Up you go. Your aunt is right about one thing. We can do with some rest.”

“Do you really think I'm going to be able to sleep?” The image of Jason Graye's body popped into her head, and she shuddered.

“I'll find some way to take your mind off things,” Dan promised.

She let him pull her to her feet. “What do you suppose Margaret is up to?”

“I have no idea, but there's no sense worrying about it tonight.” He slung an arm around her shoulders to get her moving. “Come to bed, love.”

Despite all that had happened, Liss felt the ghost of a smile flit across her face. It was good to be cherished. Poor Jason Graye had never had that comfort.

But an hour later, with Dan sound asleep beside her, Liss's restless thoughts refused to settle. She stared at the ceiling until her eyes itched, listening to the steady, over-loud beat of her own heart. She felt as if she was on the verge of a panic attack. Stupid, but there it was!

Calm down,
she ordered herself.
You have to be up and at 'em bright and early to open the Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium booth at the Highland Games
.

She tried running inventory in her head as an alternative to counting sheep. Two dozen ties in assorted tartans. A dozen ceramic mugs decorated with thistles, the symbol of Scotland. An assortment of imported cashmere scarves. Two pewter figurines of bagpipers. She'd ordered more, but they hadn't come in. Miscellaneous kilt pins and ceramic figurines—pipers, drummers, and soldiers in Highland dress, each six and a half inches tall. Somewhere around the half dozen tins of canned haggis, she finally drifted into sleep.

* * *

On Lowe Street, seated in the Moosetookalook police cruiser with the windows down and the engine off, Sherri Campbell struggled to keep her eyes open. Everything was quiet, just as it should be. The neighbors had all gone to bed. No dogs barked. Ten minutes earlier she'd heard what she thought was an owl. A half hour before that, a white cat had crossed Jason Graye's front lawn, bound on some important nocturnal errand. Sherri had already been so bored that she'd wasted a few minutes debating whether the feline's quarry was a juicy field mouse or a female of its own species.

Nothing, however, could distract her for long from her most pressing concern. There had been three serious crimes in her jurisdiction in less than a week—arson, vandalism, and now murder. What if they were connected? She couldn't see how, but the possibility nagged at her. So did the fact that she had no leads to go on in any of the cases.

Was she dealing with one criminal? Two? Three? She found it hard to believe that there could be more than one major villain in a town the size of Moosetookalook, but neither could she spot any common thread. When she added in the missing persons, things got even more complicated.

Strictly speaking, Angie and her kids were not “missing persons” at all. Angie had every right to leave town without a word to anyone and take her children with her. Even with kids involved, an Amber Alert wasn't warranted. Only the fact that the fire marshal wanted to talk to Angie about the arson gave Sherri grounds to go as far as she had in her search. She felt as if she was wandering in circles, asking the same questions over and over and getting the same non-answers.

Abandoning the cruiser, she circled Jason Graye's house, as she had every hour since she'd taken up her post. Nothing had changed. The doors were locked. There was no sign of another living soul anywhere in the vicinity.

When had her limbs grown so heavy? It was an effort just to keep moving. She stopped at the passenger side of the cruiser to stretch and indulge in a huge yawn.

She yelped when the car door opened.

“Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to scare you.”

The apologetic note in her husband's voice did little to steady Sherri's nerves. She wanted to blast him for sneaking up on her like that. At the same time, she was very glad to see him. He had eight inches and seventy-five pounds on her, packed into the solid shape of a linebacker—a comforting presence on a dark night, as long as he was on
her
side.

“Pete Campbell, I ought to whack you upside the head with this flashlight. What are you doing here?”

“Bringing you coffee.” He had a go-cup in each hand.

As peace offerings, it was right up there with flowers and candy. She took one of the insulated cups, opened the top, and inhaled. “Who's with the kids?”

“My mom. She insisted.”

Sherri's eyebrows rose at that. Thea Campbell, the same Thea Campbell who sat on the town's board of selectmen, was not known for her altruism. On the other hand, she relished the role of doting grandmother. She didn't even mind changing diapers.

Coffee in hand, Sherri circled the cruiser and got in on the driver's side. “I guess Thea heard about Jason Graye.”

She already knew that Pete had. She'd called him herself to let him know she'd be working all night. Even if she hadn't explained why, he'd have heard enough on the scanner to figure it out since he was a deputy with the Carrabassett County Sheriff's Department. Two of his colleagues had been on the scene to assist the state police. It was likely at least one of them had swung by Sherri and Pete's house after leaving Lowe Street.

Pete took a sip of his coffee and leaned back against the headrest. “It's been hours since his body was found. I expect most of the town knows by now.”

“I suppose so. What the
hell
is going on?”

“Don't tell me you're surprised that Graye ticked someone off enough to kill him?”