A Wee Christmas Homicide

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  “What do you want?” Graye demanded when he opened his door. He had a brusque manner in the best of times and his opinion of Liss was on a par with hers of him.

  “Gracious, as always.” Liss’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Believe me, I wouldn’t bother you if I could think of any other way to get the information I need.”

  “You intrigue me, Ms. MacCrimmon.” Graye waved her inside, chuckling when she hesitated. “I don’t bite.”

  “My aunt knows I’m here.”

  Both his eyebrows shot up at that, but he did not respond in any other way to her comment.

  Curious, Liss took a look around her. Graye’s living room was stylishly, even luxuriously, furnished but everything had a sterile quality to it. The place lacked that comfortable, lived-in look that made a house or apartment into a home.

  Shoving aside an instant of pity for the man, Liss reminded herself that although he probably wasn’t dangerous, she shouldn’t let down her guard around him. He had been up to something with Eric Moss.

  Her reluctant host was a man in his late thirties or early forties with a hawklike nose, a slightly jutting chin, and thin lips. He stood an inch or two taller than she and did not appear to be in very good shape, although he was by no means overweight. Liss was not afraid of him physically, and she had grown accustomed to his rudeness and his tendency to push into everyone else’s personal space.

  Graye was first and foremost a self-styled entrepreneur. He made his money handling real estate and he was good at turning a profit. His dealings might not always be completely ethical, but he was savvy enough to stay on the right side of the law. Most important to Liss’s mind was that he was familiar with properties all over the county. It was her hope that his knowledge extended right up to the Canadian border.

  “I’m here about a parcel of land,” she announced.

  Graye’s face brightened and his manner lost some of its aloofness. His voice was only mildly condescending when he asked if she was buying or selling.

  “Neither.”

  His lips pursed into a straight, tight line. “Then I don’t see why I should do anything to help you.”

  Without an invitation, Liss selected a chair and sat. The cushion was rock hard beneath her and tilted back at an awkward angle. In the days right after her knee surgery, she’d have had to be hoisted upright again.

  Muttering under his breath, Graye took the sofa. He did not offer coffee or tea. Just as well, Liss decided. She’d be leery of accepting. He’d probably spit in the cup.

  Liss folded her hands in her lap and fixed her steady gaze on Graye. She had come prepared to use coercion. “Remember the night of the selectmen’s meeting? You had a conversation with Eric Moss out in the hall. You weren’t as private as you thought. Would you like to know what I overheard?”

  “You expect me to believe you were eavesdropping and I didn’t see you?” He scoffed at the notion, but his eyes were wary.

  “I admit I didn’t listen in intentionally, but I was sitting on the stairs that night after getting a drink of water from the fountain. I heard everything, and I saw you pass an envelope to Moss. A payoff, I assume.”

  Graye’s laugh sounded forced and he looked uneasy. Liss cudgeled her brain. She needed to take advantage, now that she’d shaken Graye’s composure. He thought she knew more than she did. Guess right and he’d cooperate. Guess wrong and she’d be out on her ear.

  She didn’t believe Graye was involved in the smuggling. He’d never have let Moss offer the Tiny Teddies so cheap. Besides, their whispered conversation had taken place only hours after she’d seen that newspaper item.

  So, Graye had been paying Moss off for something else, but what? There was probably a connection to real estate. A tip of some sort? Moss did get around in his search for bargains.

  Liss considered what she’d heard about Graye’s business practices. He’d been known to claim houses had serious defects—carpenter ants, dry rot, and the like—in order to get the owners to sell property to him for less than they might have gotten through an honest broker. He also kept an ear to the ground for building projects. He’d tried to outbid Dan’s father for the hotel, thinking to tear it down and erect vacation condos on the site. Once he’d even tried to buy all the buildings on one side of the town square. Some scheme involving senior housing, if she remembered right.

  “You’re up to your old tricks,” she said aloud, hoping he’d fall for her bluff. “However, I see no reason to mention what I overheard to anyone, as long as you’re willing to share a little information with me.”

  “You want in on my deal?” He couldn’t quite keep the astonishment out of his voice.

  “No! I want to know who owns a certain parcel of land.”

  “That’s all?” From his incredulous look, Liss wondered if she’d underestimated the scope of his scheme with Eric Moss.

  “That and the answer to one other question.”

  “Where is this parcel?”

  Graye produced detailed topographical maps of Carrabassett County. Liss had no difficulty finding the area Moss had circled. “Here.” She tapped the spot on the map. “Do you know who owns this property?”

  Graye’s beak of a nose twitched once as he stared at the map, making Liss wonder if she’d just put her foot in it. Was this the very property that had prompted Graye to give Moss that payoff?

  “As far as I know,” Graye said carefully, “this land currently belongs to an out-of-stater. It contains a rustic cabin but has no running water or electricity.”

  “Currently?” Liss repeated. “Who did it belong to before that?”

  Graye allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile. “I owned it, briefly, before I sold it for a tidy profit. You see, I purchased that parcel for a song from a couple obliged to unload it as part of their divorce settlement.”

  “What couple?” Liss asked, although she thought she already knew.

  “Gavin and Felicity Thorne.”

  Participants in the Twelve Days of Christmas Pageant crowded into Moosetookalook’s town square. The gala parade to The Spruces was about to begin.

  It had taken some doing to find enough volunteers to carry trees, golden rings, and assorted birds, but Liss had managed it. Even Jason Graye pitched in, gingerly pushing the partridge in the pear tree on a dolly. The fact that this meant he led the procession undoubtedly had something to do with his compliance. So long as he helped, Liss didn’t care what motivated him.

  The weather cooperated. It was another sunny day, warm enough that the snow had begun to melt rather rapidly. Too much of that would not be good for skiers and snowmobilers, but at the moment Liss was more concerned with the comfort of the spectators. Temperatures above freezing suited them very well.

  A good-sized crowd also waited at the hotel. Gratified, Liss shooed her charges into the ballroom and a short time later took the stage to start the pageant. She’d assigned herself the job of master of ceremonies. For the next hour and a half she introduced participants and watched their performances.

  The pipers, strengthened by the addition of the man Gordon had replaced the previous night, played with tremendous enthusiasm. A few in the audience clapped hands over their ears, but they were smiling as they did so. All except Stu Burroughs, who stood next to Liss wearing a pained expression on his face.

  “You have no appreciation of the finer things in life,” Liss teased him.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. There was no sense trying to be heard until the music stopped. She studied the crowd instead, picking out familiar faces.

  Liss’s neighbor, bookstore owner Angie Hogencamp and her daughter Beth stood off to one side. Beth had already performed and Angie had warned Liss that they weren’t going to stick around for the auction. She claimed she couldn’t face the constant inaccurate references to “teddy bears.”

  Sherri, in civvies, had brought her mother and son. With them was Pete Campbell, wearing his dark brown deputy sheriff’s unifo
rm. Liss wondered if Jeff Thibodeau had asked for help from the county, or if Pete was just taking a break from his regular patrol. Moosetookalook chief of police or no, Jeff was committed to spending the rest of the afternoon dressed as Santa.

  As Liss watched, Sherri scowled at her fiancé. Pete’s expression became equally thunderous. Obviously they were still at odds about something.

  Nearby, Marcia waited, looking anxious. The auction was scheduled to take place between the performance of the eleven pipers and the concert by the twelve drummers—members of a local drum and bugle corps. Marcia had a lot riding on this, Liss supposed, but there was no way she would lose money. She hadn’t paid all that much for her bears in the first place.

  It dawned on Liss that she recognized almost everyone in the ballroom, even the ones she didn’t know by name. Those who were not residents of Moosetookalook had been among the customers who’d visited the Emporium in the course of the last few days. Mark Patton was present. So was Lovey FitzPatrick. She looked none the worse for her brief incarceration in the county jail.

  On the far side of the room, Liss caught a glimpse of Aunt Margaret. She was working for the hotel this afternoon, still getting the hang of her new job as events coordinator. She’d been a huge help to Liss in making sure everything about the pageant ran smoothly.

  Neither Dan nor Gordon were anywhere to be seen. Liss was pretty sure Dan was elsewhere in the hotel, just avoiding the bagpipe concert. She had no idea where Gordon was, or even if he intended to show up today.

  Inevitably, thoughts of Gordon led back to Gavin Thorne’s murder. Liss hoped she and Sherri could get together soon and compare notes.

  What did it mean that the area circled on Eric Moss’s map had once belonged to the Thornes? What did it mean that the intruder had taken that map? The location had to have some significance. An illegal border crossing suggested smuggling, but there Liss’s logical thought progression ground to a halt. She couldn’t connect the dots to produce a clear picture.

  Her second question to Jason Graye hadn’t clarified matters in the least. Graye claimed he had no idea where Moss was now, or what he was up to. Liss didn’t trust Graye as far as she could throw him, but on this matter she believed him.

  She glanced again at Sherri. Her friend had given her a bad moment after Liss confessed to sneaking into Eric Moss’s house. Until then, she hadn’t been too troubled by what she’d done. In fact, she’d been planning to tell Gordon the whole story. Sherri’s reaction had made her change her mind. Admitting to her local state police detective that she’d committed a crime would not be a good idea.

  A burst of applause signaled the end of the first part of the afternoon’s entertainment. Clapping enthusiastically, Liss returned to center stage. She made a point of thanking each of the performers by name. That done, she turned the microphone over to Stu, who had volunteered to be auctioneer.

  He wore a bright red sweater with STU’S SKI SHOP emblazoned across the front in big white letters. “Thank you, Liss,” Stu said. “Liss MacCrimmon, everyone!”

  She acknowledged the round of applause but quickly left the stage.

  “Our Santa, Jeff Thibodeau, will bring out each bear in turn and he’ll be passing the ones that sell down to our volunteer bookkeeper. That’s Patsy of Patsy’s Coffee Shop, folks. Don’t forget to stop in for her home-baked pastries and a cup of Joe.”

  Patsy waved to the crowd. She sat at a small table next to the stage to record the prices and collect the money from the high bidders. Those who wanted to participate had already registered and collected numbered paddles to hold up when they bid. They surged forward as Liss pushed through them heading in the opposite direction.

  Escaping the crush of potential bidders and enthusiastic gawkers, Liss reached an open space near the door. Sherri’s party was just ahead of her. Angie and Beth were already through the door and Jason Graye was right on Liss’s heels.

  From behind her, she heard Stu start the bidding at fifty dollars. By the time she stepped out into the hallway, it had reached three hundred.

  “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” Sherri hissed at Pete.

  “Me? You’re the one—” He broke off when he spotted Liss. “Here she is now. Talk to her and then you can go home.”

  “Be with you in a second, Liss,” Sherri snapped, and stalked away from her, chasing after Pete. He’d already corralled young Adam and taken Ida Willett’s arm. They were halfway to the elevator when Sherri yelled, “Hold on just a minute, buster!”

  “We’ll be in the lobby,” Pete shot back, hustling his charges into the cage and jabbing the button. The door closed in Sherri’s face.

  “Stupid…bossy…pigheaded!” Every epithet was underscored by the stomp of Sherri’s feet as she returned to the spot where Liss waited.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Both hands up, palms out, Liss backed off. “Hey. Don’t bite my head off.” She hid a smile as she experienced a flash of déjà vu. Not very long ago, Dan had said almost the exact same thing to her.

  “Sorry. Pete has just gotten so pushy lately. I don’t know what to do about him.”

  “Push back?”

  “That only makes things worse.” Sherri heaved a deep sigh and waved Liss toward a bow window furnished with a window seat. “I’ve got some information for you, but I’m not sure it’s worth much.”

  “I found out something, too.” She told Sherri what Jason Graye had revealed about the land along the border.

  Sherri gave a low whistle. “So it belonged to the Thornes. Interesting.”

  Puzzled, Liss forgot what else she’d been about to say. “Why interesting?”

  Sherri drew her deeper into an alcove. “I couldn’t tell you this before because I knew about it from the official investigation, but since the checking I did on my own after you left the office this morning led to the same information, I figure that means Gordon can’t object if I tell you what I found.”

  Liss wasn’t certain she followed Sherri’s logic, but she nodded anyway.

  “I was able to get a look at the state’s online records for both snowmobiles and ATVs. I checked on everyone I could think of. Felicity, Marcia, Marcia’s ex husband, and Stu all registered snowmobiles this year. Stu also has an ATV.”

  “What about Moss?”

  “Nothing. Forget Moss. Here’s the interesting bit—Felicity Thorne and Cabot Katz listed the same home address on the forms they filled out.”

  For a moment, Liss didn’t see the connection. Then her eyes widened. “Thorne’s ex wife and Marcia’s ex husband are a couple? They’re living together?”

  Sherri made a “keep going” gesture, urging Liss to continue that line of thought to its logical conclusion.

  “He’s her alibi for the time of Thorne’s murder.”

  “Bingo!”

  A round of applause reached them from the ballroom. Liss wondered briefly how much the latest Tiny Teddy had sold for. Then she focused her attention on what Sherri was saying.

  “I think you may be on to something with the smuggling idea, only it makes more sense if Thorne himself was running the show.” Sherri’s brow furrowed in concentration as she supplied the details she’d worked out. “Since he once owned that land, the whole scheme could easily have been his idea from the beginning. Then his ex found out what he was doing, they had words, and boom! No more Thorne.”

  Liss picked up the thread, unraveling it further. “Thorne probably tried to toss her out. He pulled out his gun to convince her to go, but somehow she got it away from him.”

  Inside the ballroom, someone let out a whoop of triumph.

  “Is she strong enough to have wrestled it out of his grip? I’ve never met her.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Liss tried to visualize the scene. “Or the gun could have gone off during the struggle. Or maybe she went for the gun and he was the one trying to disarm her.” She could picture it going down any of those three ways.


  “Doesn’t matter.” Sherri’s face glowed with excitement. “She’s the prime suspect, just as Gordon seems to have thought all along. Cabot Katz lied to protect her.”

  “I hate to be a wet blanket, but there are a few problems with that theory. Where does Eric Moss fit into it? Where is Moss? And why would Thorne have gotten involved in smuggling in the first place? I’d think it would be pretty hard to start bringing in Tiny Teddies unless he already had contacts on the other side of the border.”

  Sherri’s face fell. “Drat! And there’s an even bigger problem than any of those. There’s not a shred of proof. Unfortunately, the law requires evidence.”

  “There’s the atlas I found at Moss’s house.”

  “What would that prove, assuming we had it, which we don’t?”

  Liss tried to think logically, but she had the feeling she was still missing too many pieces of the puzzle. “Moss is the one who sold the Tiny Teddies to Marcia, so maybe Katz isn’t lying. Maybe Moss and Thorne were in it together and they were the ones who quarreled and fought over the gun. Maybe Moss shot Thorne.”

  Someone had killed him. It made sense that the fatal shooting had occurred during a quarrel over smuggling Tiny Teddies into the U.S. from Canada. But beyond those two assumptions lay a morass of contradictions and unanswered questions. Liss felt as if she were on a merry-go-round, spinning faster and faster and in imminent danger of being flung off.

  “The bears Moss sold Marcia are not the same as the ones Thorne had.” Sherri sighed. “In fact, there is no concrete proof that there have ever been any smuggled bears in Moosetookalook.”

  “You believe it.”

  “But Gordon doesn’t. I’ve got nothing to use to persuade him, either. Worse, it occurred to me while I was looking up names online that someone using a snowmobile or an ATV to commit an illegal act probably wouldn’t bother to register it in the first place.”