“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?”
“But I am. He was a sleaze. I know that. But—”
“Sometimes it doesn’t take much.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping coffee and staring out into the night.
“The state police will handle the homicide,” she said after a while. “The fire marshal takes the lead on the arson. The vandalism was probably kids, which means one of them will brag about it eventually and we’ll round them up. That leaves it to me to figure out where Angie is.”
“Any ideas?” Pete asked. “PLS is the bookstore two days before the fire, right?”
PLS—point last seen. Sherri sighed. “Right.” Another acronym summed up the area still to be searched: ROW—rest of world.
“No luck tracing her under another name?”
“Not so far. You know what really bugs me? With all the friends Angie made during the last twelve years, not one of them has come up with a single helpful suggestion.”
“Do you think someone knows more than she’s saying?”
“Someone must. Someone left that anniversary card at Liss and Dan’s.”
“Angie herself?”
“Doubtful. But if she gave it to a friend to deliver, that suggests she meant to disappear. Planned ahead. But why? And where is she now?”
“What about Beth’s friends? Any luck there?”
“None, and I’ve talked to at least a dozen of them. And Bradley’s teacher gave me the names of his best buddies. Nothing. Nada. Zip.” She took another sip of the coffee, brooding. “I wonder if Boxer knows more than he’s saying.”
Pete was shaking his head even before she finished asking the question. “That kid is really broken up over this whole mess. If he had any idea where they are, he’d have headed there like a shot.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Don’t forget, I took off when I was around Beth’s age. No one bothered to look for me.”
Pete shifted in his seat. “Are you kidding? Your dad was frantic. When there was a report that you’d been seen in New York City, he went down there to look for you. He searched for over a week before your mother finally persuaded him to give up and come home.”
Stunned, Sherri stared at him. The hand holding the go-cup started shaking so hard that she had to put it down in the cup holder. “I . . . I never knew. I figured they didn’t care. After the things I said before I left, I wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d written me off.”
“Not that easy to do.”
It wasn’t until Pete reached across to wipe moisture off her cheek that she realized she’d been crying. God! She was a mess over this!
Get a grip, she ordered herself.
She fumbled for a tissue, blew her nose, and took another long swallow of the coffee. Feeling more in control, she forced her thoughts away from her own checkered past to focus on the present.
“It’s stupid to compare myself to Beth. We’re apples and oranges. Beth is with her mother and brother. If she wants to contact Boxer, what is there to stop her?”
“That’s the real question, isn’t it? What’s to stop any of them from letting their friends know they’re okay?”
* * *
On Saturday morning, Liss had consumed three cups of coffee before she remembered that this wasn’t just the first full day of the Western Maine Highland Games. It was also her sixth wedding anniversary.
Seeing Dan walk into the kitchen carrying a humongous, heart-shaped box of chocolates was her first clue.
“I know,” he said when she started to laugh. “It’s hokey. But I have it on good authority that the sixth anniversary is supposed to be celebrated with candy.”
“Or with wood.” Suddenly the dull headache she’d had when she woke up was gone.
Liss ducked into the combination pantry and laundry room and came back with a small box topped with a big red bow. “Mine’s not at all romantic, but I wanted to give you something I was sure you’d like.”
Grinning like a little kid at Christmas, Dan ripped open his present. He gave a whoop and pumped one hand in the air when he saw what was written on the slip of paper inside.
After listening to her husband grumble for the last few months about how the orbital sander in his woodworking shop kept breaking down and needed to be replaced, Liss hadn’t had any trouble deciding what to give him for their anniversary. “You’ll have to pick it out for yourself,” she told him. “I’m not qualified to select specialty woodworking tools.”
“Well, now I feel like a cheapskate,” Dan said when he’d given her a thank-you kiss. “This will cost a lot more than a lousy box of chocolates.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She was already biting into a chocolate-covered cherry. Who cared if it was eight o’clock in the morning? “It’s the thought that counts, and it is the candy anniversary.”
“And wood, you said.” He brightened. “Just to clear my conscience, pick an item of furniture you’d like to have and I’ll make it for you.”
“Deal,” Liss said with a laugh. “I want a new dresser for the bedroom. One with big, deep drawers. Those little narrow ones on the one we’ve been using drive me crazy. Put away two folded T-shirts and they barely close.”
“You got it,” Dan promised, and sealed the agreement with another kiss.
One thing led to another, with the result that Liss was almost late setting out for The Spruces. She was feeling much more chipper as she drove the short distance to the hotel.
Chapter Eleven
Margaret was hard at work
at her desk when Liss entered her office at The Spruces, but she at once dropped what she was doing. “Coffee? Or would you prefer tea?” She rose and headed for the side table that contained the fixings for both.
“No time, but thanks. I’m just here to collect that box you were keeping for me.” It contained the most valuable of the small, easily portable items she offered for sale.
Since Liss’s “booth” at the Highland Games was in fact a tent, she had rolled down the sides and tied the sections together after setting up the previous day. The whole structure was anchored to the ground, and the treated canvas did a good job of keeping out the elements, but it didn’t offer much protection against a thief with a sharp knife. Although there was a guard patrolling the grounds at night, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Liss’s plan was to grab her box and run, but Margaret was too fast for her. “Nonsense. You can’t go off to work without fortification. I have scones.”
“Margaret, really, I—”
“And I expect a nice cup of chamomile tea would be just the thing to go with them. It’s only natural you’d be frazzled after everything you went through last night.”
“I’m fine,” Liss insisted. “And I’m already awash with coffee. I don’t need anything else to drink.”
Margaret turned away from the side table, a worried expression on her face. “Are you going to be able to manage all right?’”
“Trips to the port-a-potty? I’m pretty sure someone will cover for me if I need to go.”
Margaret gave a ladylike snort. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Liss hefted her box. “I’m a little short on sleep, but I’ll manage. And I have a lovely big box of chocolate to tide me over if I’m feeling hungry.”
For a moment, before chagrin replaced that expression, Margaret looked puzzled. “It’s your anniversary, isn’t it? Sixth is candy? How . . . sweet.”
Liss made a face at her. “Thanks for thinking of the scones.” They were a particular weakness of hers. “But I’ve been fed and watered, and if I don’t get going I won’t be ready by the time the first customers show up. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Kilt at the Highland Games Page 13
