Scone Cold Dead

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  So far the members of Strathspey had steadfastly avoided talking about Victor’s murder, but they seemed only too happy to recount past successes on the road—in mind-numbing detail—and to debate the issue of when and where the tour should resume. To add insult to injury, Liss was so focused on watching Emily Townsend’s every move that she’d scarcely said word one to him all evening.

  “Wow, Dan,” Sherri greeted him. “When did you turn into a party animal?”

  He didn’t dignify that smart remark with a response, just waved her in and shut the door behind her. It was snowing again, he noticed. He was tempted to grab his coat and go for a walk. It might be cold out there, but at least it would be quiet and peaceful.

  “I can’t stay,” Sherri said, “but I didn’t want to try to explain over the phone.”

  Alerted as much by her demeanor as her words, Dan’s drifting thoughts centered. Sherri wouldn’t be in Moosetookalook in the evening unless it was important. He glanced at his watch. It was just past eight. She’d have gone home from work, spent time with her son, put him to bed, and come straight here. Whatever was on her mind was serious but not urgent. “You need to talk to Liss?”

  She nodded. “Preferably without an audience.”

  The hallway ran from the front door straight back to the kitchen. Ignoring the doors opening into bedlam, they followed it, but the kitchen was occupied, too. Fiona was going through his cabinets.

  “Looking for something?”

  She gave a guilty start. “Sorry. Just idle curiosity, I’m afraid. Hello, Sherri. What brings you here?”

  “Scheduling problems,” Sherri told her. “I work part-time at the Emporium as well as at the jail. Do you suppose you could send Liss out here? I don’t want to put a damper on the fun.”

  “Why would you—? Oh, because you’re the one who figured out that Victor was murdered? Don’t give that another thought. I’m sure someone would have noticed eventually.”

  She breezed out of the room, the loose, colorful scarf she wore floating after her. A hint of her jasmine-scented perfume remained.

  “Did you just lie to the nice lady?” Dan asked.

  “Damn straight. I don’t trust any of them.”

  “Too bad Liss doesn’t feel that way.”

  They exchanged a look that said it all. Liss was too close to these people. She might claim she was trying to figure out which one had killed Victor Owens, but she had a blind spot the size of Cleveland when it came to picking up clues about those she cared for. It wasn’t just Sandy and Zara, Dan had realized. She felt protective of the whole damned company.

  Liss joined them a few minutes later, looking much more herself than she had earlier. She’d twisted her shoulder-length brown hair into some sort of fancy knot and changed into a dry pair of jeans and a neon-yellow sweater topped with one of her favorite paisley scarves. Definitely the bright spot in Dan’s evening, even if she did look worried.

  Behind her, in the hall, Fiona was watching, her interest clearly piqued by Sherri’s presence.

  “This way,” Dan said, steering Liss and Sherri into the combination utility room and pantry off the kitchen. Anything to put a little more distance between them and the partying dance troupe. “We can talk in private in here.”

  “Yes, but can we breathe?”

  To ease the crowding, Dan boosted himself onto the top of the clothes washer, giving Liss and Sherri more room in the narrow aisle between the appliances and the shelving.

  “You’ve got trouble, Liss,” Sherri said.

  “What is it? What’s happened? Is Gordon about to arrest someone?”

  “Don’t panic!” Sherri put a hand on her forearm. “I guess, in a twisted sort of way, I’m probably bringing you good news. Gordon Tandy questioned me today, about you. Wanted to know if anyone could vouch for your whereabouts before the performance.”

  “He’s checking my alibi?” Liss’s voice went up in astonishment.

  “Looks that way to me. I thought you should know. But on the bright side, that means he hasn’t yet fixed on any one suspect as being most likely. He’s keeping an open mind.”

  “Maybe a little too open,” Liss muttered. “Oh well. You’re right, Sherri. It is good that he’s still looking at all the possibilities. Can you remember exactly what he asked you?”

  Sherri repeated as much of the interrogation as she could recall, but Dan stopped listening when she got to the part about Liss taking over Victor’s job as manager of Strathspey. Was she really considering leaving Moosetookalook? She hadn’t said a word about it to him.

  A burst of raucous laughter from the living room reminded all three of them that they were not the only ones in the house. Liss grimaced.

  “I’d better get back. This ‘gathering of all the suspects together in one place’ thing is not working quite the way I imagined it would. I don’t have a solution all worked out to reveal in the hope of startling a confession out of someone, and nobody is cooperating by dropping a significant clue in my lap.” With a sigh, she pushed through the swinging door.

  Dan stayed put, feet dangling off the washing machine. “What’s your call on this?” he asked Sherri. “Does Tandy really think Liss is a suspect?”

  “Not a chance. He’s just eliminating possibilities. The only motive she’d have is if she really did want to take over the dance company.”

  “You sure she doesn’t?”

  Sherri Willett was a little bit of a thing. Standing, she was much shorter than he was. From his perch on the washer, he had to look way down to meet her eyes.

  She glanced up at him. “Funny. Gordon asked almost the same question. He didn’t like the idea, either.”

  “What are you saying?” He slid off the washer and caught Sherri’s arms.

  “Watch it, bub!”

  He released her, holding up both hands in a placating gesture, but his voice was ragged. “Just answer me, damn it! Does Gordon Tandy have a personal interest in Liss?”

  “Maybe. I’m just reading body language, Dan. Gordon didn’t say anything. Well, he wouldn’t, would he? Not if Liss is a suspect.”

  “Damn.” Sherri had good instincts. If she thought Tandy was attracted to Liss, he probably was. “That’s all I need.”

  She peered up at him, undoubtedly trying to read his body language. “I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about. Not right now, anyway. As long as Gordon is investigating Victor’s murder, he’ll steer clear of getting involved with anyone connected to the case.”

  “So it’s good she’s a suspect?” He couldn’t keep the hint of sarcasm out of his voice.

  Hearing it, Sherri grinned. “From your point of view, yeah. And even if Gordon was sure she was in the clear, asking her out would still fall into a gray area. It’s always dicey to mix romance with an ongoing investigation.”

  Not entirely reassured, Dan accepted that there was nothing he could do about the situation, even if Tandy did hit on Liss. Overt shows of jealousy were out and it was probably just as well that fighting for the hand of a lady fair was no longer an appropriate response to another man’s poaching. Challenging Gordon to a duel—someone who carried a gun as part of his job—was not a good idea.

  “Much as I’d like to stay and party,” Sherri said, interrupting a pleasant fantasy in which he punched out Gordon Tandy’s lights, “I’ve got to go. Man, I hate this seven-to-three shift!”

  He held the door for her. “Let’s not share this conversation with Liss, okay?”

  She mimed zipping her lips, then zipped her ski jacket and left by the back door.

  Gritting his teeth, Dan headed for the living room. According to Liss’s grand plan, he was supposed to be watching his guests for signs of guilt. Ha! All he saw was Stewart Graham drinking too much, and Emily Townsend cowering in a corner. After flipping a mental coin, he sauntered over to her.

  “How are you doing, Emily? Feeling a little better?”

  “You’re Dan, right?” She looked up at him from
the depths of an overstuffed chair that seemed to swallow her slight form. The waiflike, Audrey Hepburn look was further emphasized by the skinny black pants and black turtleneck she wore. “I can’t seem to hold on to thoughts very well.”

  Were those tears welling up? “Oh, hey. Don’t do that. You’re safe now. Everybody makes mistakes sometimes.” He had no idea what he was saying, but just the fact that he kept talking seemed to calm her.

  She sniffled a little and then, mercifully, seemed to regain control of herself. “You’re very kind.”

  “No problem.”

  A pained silence ensued. Dan shuffled his feet. He could be in his shop, working on that table Mary wanted. What the hell had he been thinking to—

  Abruptly, Emily rallied. “Have you lived here long?”

  “Moosetookalook? Or in this house?”

  “Both. Either.” Cornflower-blue eyes darted from side to side, never meeting Dan’s gaze, and she looked as if she might bolt at any moment.

  He understood the impulse. Snagging one of the chairs from his dining room set—they’d all been dragged into the living room, though few of the company were sitting—he turned it around so he could straddle it. Then he started rambling. He talked about growing up in rural Maine, about going to school here with Liss and Sherri. He told her how Liss’s parents had moved to Arizona.

  “They sold this place to a professor at the University of Maine’s Fallstown branch, the campus you performed on, but he didn’t stay long. When he left, I bought it.”

  “Isn’t it awfully big for just one person?” Emily, calm again, seemed genuinely interested in hearing his answer.

  Dan got that question a lot. “I like the space.” And the privacy, but he didn’t expect to get that back any time soon.

  “Are you and Liss . . . that is . . . I don’t mean to pry. . . .”

  “We’ve been seeing a lot of each other since she returned.”

  “Oh.” Her brow wrinkled. “What does that mean?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  She laughed. Well, no, it wasn’t exactly a laugh. He wasn’t sure what to call the sound, but it grated on his nerves. It also attracted the attention of everyone else in the room.

  “Ah, a chirp from our chippy.” Stewart Graham’s phony-sounding British accent was firmly in place.

  A few people chuckled. Liss just looked pained. Emily’s face turned crimson from high forehead to pointed chin and she fled. Dan followed and was in time to see her enter his tiny downstairs bathroom.

  “There aren’t any drugs in there, are there?” Stewart asked, coming up beside him.

  “No.” The only “drugs” Dan kept on hand were aspirin and Pepto-Bismol, both of which were kept in the private bath off his own room. His houseguests shared the second upstairs bathroom, also devoid of over-the-counter remedies. He’d set out a fresh cake of Ivory soap. That was as far as his hospitality went.

  “Good,” Stewart said. “Then I can safely tell her to take a powder. That girl is a total pill.”

  When he’d followed through on the threat, shouting his suggestion through the bathroom door, Stewart wandered back toward the ice chest full of beer sitting on Dan’s dining room floor. He was chuckling to himself.

  Keeping one eye peeled in case Emily came out, Dan also watched the insensitive jerk who’d just insulted her. Dan saw Stewart check for observers, then pretend to grab another beer. What he actually did was keep hold of the same can he’d already drained and pretend it was a fresh one. Interesting, Dan thought. Stewart was not drinking as heavily as he wanted everyone to think he was.

  What significance that might have completely eluded him.

  “The company needs rehearsal space.”

  Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright. There was a distinct hint of spring in the air. Liss, doing her best to appear bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in spite of being up so late the previous night, flashed a wide smile at Dan. She thought better of batting her eyelashes.

  “What am I supposed to do about it?” He sounded out of sorts and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. She was accustomed to the eccentricities and petty squabbles of Strathspey’s dancers. He was not.

  “Provide a place for them to practice. Their last performance was Saturday night.”

  This garnered nothing but a blank look.

  “Same rule as sports, Dan. If the players don’t work out regularly, hit the old batting cage or whatever, the whole team suffers. Dancers have to keep in shape, too, and there’s only so much they can do individually, especially when all they have is a motel room to work in. I need a space big enough for them to run through the numbers in the show.”

  “Moosetookalook doesn’t even have an assembly hall.” For town meetings they usually moved the fire trucks into the street and set up folding chairs in the bays.

  “Stewart suggested we empty out your carriage house and use it.” She gave him a sweet smile, anticipating his response. They were in his kitchen, which had an unobstructed view of the other building.

  “No way in hell. And incidentally, I don’t appreciate being serenaded on the bagpipes at three o’clock in the morning.”

  He turned his back on her to refill his coffee mug from the big pot on the counter. No one else in the house was stirring yet, but he’d been up at least an hour. From her bedroom window, Liss had seen his light go on.

  “You did put Stewart in the room my dad soundproofed, right?” He’d done that so he could practice his piping indoors.

  Dan glowered at her over the rim of his bright blue ceramic mug. “You mean the bedroom right next to mine? Trust me when I say sound-proof is a misnomer.”

  “I did have another thought. About the rehearsal hall?”

  “I’m not going to like this one, either, am I?”

  “Depends. There are two or three spaces big enough at The Spruces.”

  “The hotel isn’t open yet.” He set his coffee mug on the counter with a thump.

  She ignored the display of temper. “So? Your father owns it. Owns most of it, anyway.” He had a few investors, including her aunt. “He could give permission. I could get everyone to sign waivers saying they won’t sue if they are injured on the premises. Come on, Dan. We need to rehearse.”

  “We?”

  “They. They need to rehearse. The lobby’s big enough if you don’t want them in the unfinished portions of the hotel. And isn’t there a ballroom upstairs?”

  “The ballroom’s where we’re working now.”

  The mulish look on his face wasn’t encouraging, and she’d already taken advantage of his good nature something shameful, but he was an old softy at heart. She wasn’t surprised when he relented.

  “Dining room’s pretty near finished, and empty. I guess they could use that.”

  She flung herself at him and gave him a hug. “Oh, thank you. I knew you’d help.”

  “Wait a second.” His arms came around her when she tried to pull away. “There’s a price.” When he lowered his mouth to hers to exact it, Liss paid up willingly. With interest.

  “Are we good?” she murmured when he finally released her. Even her toes were tingling.

  “We’re good. I’ll call Dad and let you know when you can bring in the troops.”

  “Troupe,” she corrected him, and smiled when he winced.

  Chapter Eleven

  It took several hours to arrange, but early that afternoon Liss led the dancers from Strathspey, minus Fiona, who was running late and would drive herself out later, into the newly renovated dining room at The Spruces. Dan trailed along behind, looking unhappy.

  From what he’d told Liss, his father had OK’d using the room. He’d even approved turning up the thermostat. Installing a heating system had been one of the first things the Ruskins had done after buying the old hotel, right after rewiring the place. But Joe Ruskin had also ordered his son to stick around and keep an eye on things while the dancers were at The Spruces. Dan would be attending every rehearsal.


  “Where’s the bar?” Stewart demanded.

  Dan gave him such an incredulous look that Liss had trouble stifling a laugh. “That time the pun was unintentional,” she whispered. “He means a practice bar.”

  “He wants to practice his drinking?”

  Liss punched him in the arm. “Dancers do pliés and stretching exercises using a rail attached to the wall at about waist level. And you knew that. I can tell by the twinkle in your eyes.”

  “Twinkle or not, they’ll have to manage without a bar. I’m not nailing anything up to this paneling. It cost an arm and a leg and a lot of time and effort to restore it to the way it looked in the 1890s.”

  “No bar,” Liss called to Stewart. “And don’t go getting handprints on the walls. Make do with floor exercises.”

  There was general grumbling, but soon they were all bending and stretching and into their individual warm-up routines. Ray appeared in the doorway of the bright, airy room with the recorded music they used for most of the show and the equipment he needed to play it on. There was no sound system in the dining room, but he was an old hand at improvising.

  “You should put in speakers, y’know? People like to hear music playing while they eat.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Dan sounded distracted.

  Liss followed his gaze to the other side of the room. Emily Townsend had stripped down to a leotard and tights, revealing a lithe but shapely body. Her Strathspey costume did not show off her bosom to the same advantage as spandex did.

  “Earth to Dan.”

  “Huh?”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that you’re letting them use this room. They need to rehearse together on some numbers to stay in peak condition and ensure the quality of performances to come. A dancer can only do so much in the space created by shoving motel furniture back against the wall.”