Nola managed a faint smile, but she did not look entirely convinced.
Her nervousness was contagious. The greater Nola’s anxiety, the more Liss worried about what Jane might write.
Dan banged the spoon again, with the same results.
Liss stood. “Everybody? Quiet, please!”
She projected her voice so that it reached every corner of the room, a trick she’d learned while on tour. True, she’d been a dancer, not an actress, but she’d had a few lines to say and she’d learned how to make herself heard from the second balcony.
“We’ve got a meeting to start here, folks!” she added. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Stu Burroughs slanted an irritated look in her direction. It turned decidedly unfriendly and suspicious when his gaze moved on to Nola. She made a soft sound of distress and refused to meet his eyes.
Seeing that he’d successfully cowed their guest, Stu gave a “whatever” shrug and plunked himself down on Liss’s sofa, bouncing a little when he connected with the cushion.
Stu was short and chunky and fond of bright colors. His shirt was a deep maroon and royal blue suspenders held up his well-worn jeans. It was only recently that he’d stopped dyeing his hair black. Liss privately thought that had been a wise decision on his part. The flat, lifeless color had not suited his deeply lined face. The salt-and-pepper locks he now sported looked far more natural. Liss had no idea how old Stu was, but he’d owned and operated Stu’s Ski Shop for as long as she could remember.
Betsy Twining, proprietor of the Clip and Curl, settled in next to Stu. The owner of Patsy’s Coffee House, Patsy herself, squeezed in beside her. Betsy was slender. Patsy was almost cadaverously thin, in spite of the delicious homemade pastries she turned out on a daily basis. Patsy was a genius in the kitchen. She was also profoundly unhappy about being up this late. She kept glancing at her watch, a clear indication that she was anxious to get home and go to bed. Liss knew that Patsy would have to be up at three the next morning to start baking and didn’t want her to wake up cranky, not when Patsy was the one who had been hired to supply pastries for tomorrow’s author breakfast.
They’d been able to round up quite a few members of the MSBA on short notice. The others found seats, filling all the extra chairs Liss had brought in from the kitchen. The room was packed. Aunt Margaret was there, and Angie Hogencamp, and Joe Ruskin. Liss recognized the retired couple who had just taken over the old Toy Box building to turn it into a jewelry store. She fingered her tourmaline engagement ring. It was one of their creations. Even before they’d opened their business on the town square, they’d had items for sale in the hotel gift shop at The Spruces.
A bouncy young woman with ginger-colored hair and a wide smile rushed in, out of breath. She was another newcomer, the owner of a hobby shop located where, until a few months earlier, there had been an insurance office.
Dan once again tried to call the meeting to order.
“We aren’t all here yet,” Stu objected. He smirked at Liss and Nola. “We need to wait for our friendly local undertaker.”
Nola gave a start, causing the Canadian rocker in which she sat to squeak loudly. The sound grated on Liss’s nerves. She clenched her teeth. The sooner they got this meeting started, the better.
“Doug’s running a little late,” Patsy piped up. “He said we should go ahead without him.”
“Good enough.” Dan banged the spoon one last time. “We’re officially in session. Liss?”
Every eye turned in her direction. In her peripheral vision, she saw Nola shrink back, as if she were trying to make herself invisible.
“Evening, all,” Liss began. “I apologize in advance if I’ve gone off half-cocked. If that turns out to be the case, you can all feel free to laugh me out of the room. But when Dan and I talked this over at the hotel, it seemed logical to call in reinforcements. All of us have a vested interest in protecting the good name of our hometown.”
She recounted her brief conversation with Jane Nedlinger, then gave them a few of the details she’d learned about The Nedlinger Report from talking to Nola.
“This blog is very popular, and the woman who writes it is renowned for her scathing remarks. She’d far rather trash a book in a review than praise it. As for her accounts of true crimes, she gravitates toward salacious details, and if there aren’t enough of those, she’s been known to drop hints about others—just shy of saying enough to provoke a lawsuit.”
“But surely only people interested in crimes and criminals read something like that,” Betsy said, making a little sound of disgust. “We wouldn’t want that sort of person coming to Moosetookalook anyway.”
“You’d be surprised the people who like to wallow in scandal,” Angie cut in. “I’ve got standing orders for stuff so lurid it would curl your hair.”
“How is being featured in this blog any worse than Moosetookalook showing up in a story in one of the supermarket tabloids?” Stu Burroughs asked. “Seems to me that it’s all free publicity. And you know what they say about any publicity being good publicity.”
“I hate that old saw,” Liss muttered. “It’s just plain wrong. Studies show that people tend to pass on negative comments far more often than they repeat positive ones.” She was pretty sure she’d said the same thing the last time someone had played the “any publicity” card.
“That’s just human nature,” Aunt Margaret agreed. She sent a worried look Nola’s way, then glared at Stu.
“In any case,” Dan said, “it seemed best that we warn all of you about this woman and her blog. It’s likely that we’re soon going to have a serious public relations problem on our hands.” He recapped what Jane Nedlinger had said to him, reinforcing what Liss had already told the group.
“And yet,” Angie said, “Liss told me earlier today that this conference came to The Spruces because there had been a murder at the hotel.”
“That’s true,” Liss admitted. She turned to her guest. “This is Nola Ventress. She’s the organizer of the conference currently being held at The Spruces. Jane Nedlinger’s presence here is a threat to her, too.”
Nola nervously cleared her throat. She was still avoiding eye contact, not just with Stu but with everyone. Her voice was barely audible, a far cry from the self-confident woman Liss had seen earlier on the podium. Two or three people had to lean forward in order to catch what Nola said. One of the jewelry store owners surreptitiously turned up the volume on her hearing aid.
“Jane Nedlinger can put such a negative spin on what she writes that no one will ever want to come here again,” Nola said. “She’s petty and vindictive and she positively enjoys ruining people’s careers.” She twisted her fingers in the bottom of her T-shirt, then looked up at last. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about it. I don’t think she ever has a good word to say about anything.”
She was such a study in misery that Liss could only assume she was blaming herself for bringing both the conference and Moosetookalook to Jane Nedlinger’s attention.
“Then why do people read her blog?” Joe Ruskin sounded confused.
He was an older version of his son, with a distinguished hint of gray at the temples. Liss hated to see him looking so worried. He’d had to weather far too many ups and downs since the hotel opened. She realized, with a painful lurch of her heart, that he seemed to have aged ten years in the last ten months.
Bitterness made Nola’s voice stronger. “For the same reason some people watch reality shows. They like to feel superior. And Jane’s clever with words. I’ll give her that much. Some people find her kind of venom entertaining. I did myself until she turned it on me.”
“The biggest problem is that blogs reach everywhere,” Liss said. “This won’t be just a local story.”
“Still sounds like a tempest in a teapot to me,” Betsy Twining cut in. “It’s only been, what? Three hours since you first met this woman? Don’t you think you could have slept on the problem before going to Code Red?” Lik
e Patsy, Betsy had to be up at the crack of dawn.
“She threatened to link Liss and, by extension, all of Moosetookalook to a series of four murders over the last two years,” Dan pointed out. “That’s a threat that’s hard to take lightly.”
“Are you sure she has all that much influence?” Patsy fought a yawn, lost, and apologized for being so sleepy. “Past my bedtime,” she mumbled.
“I’ve never even heard of her,” Angie chimed in.
There was an immediate chorus of “me neithers.”
“Maybe we haven’t, but folks from away, the ones we want to attract here as tourists, apparently do read her blog.”
“If you’re right about that,” Stu said, looking morose, “then we’re already dead.”
“Who’s dead?” a new voice asked. “Does someone need my services?”
Stu gave a derisive snort. “Like Preston’s Mortuary is hurting for business!”
“Join the party, Doug,” Liss invited as the newcomer stepped into her living room. In addition to being the local mortician, he was also one of the village selectman. Even though he was often prickly to deal with, Liss was glad he’d been able to attend the meeting.
The term “gentleman” might have been invented just for Doug. Liss didn’t think she’d ever seen him wearing anything less formal than a suit and tie. He had an upright carriage and a refined manner that came very close to straying over the line into supercilious. How he’d produced a son like young Frank, best described as careless and slovenly, was a mystery no one in Moosetookalook had been able to solve.
Doug was yet another of the longtime village residents who had seemed so ancient to Liss when she was growing up. She’d been surprised to realize, when she returned to the village as an adult, that he was the same age as Aunt Margaret. They’d gone to high school together. The fact that he’d married a woman more than twenty years his junior, back when Liss herself had been in junior high, had once struck her as creepy. Now she supposed, when she thought about it at all, that Doug would have considerable appeal to women who liked the suave, reserved type.
Doug glanced around the room, looking for an empty chair. He froze when he caught sight of Nola. “Well, as I live and breathe. Nola Ventress.”
“Hello, Doug.” Nola was back to whispering.
Liss frowned. Was it her imagination, or had there been a distinct rise in tension in the air? Nola was actually trembling. While Dan recapped the situation for Doug’s benefit, Liss studied the faces of those gathered in her living room. Two of them seemed more alert. Stu had an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. Aunt Margaret looked more worried than ever.
“What does this woman look like?” Doug asked.
Liss described Jane, emphasizing her size and her all-gray ensemble. She’d have stood out in downtown Moosetookalook, and Liss wasn’t surprised when Betsy spoke up.
“I think I saw her late this morning,” the beautician said. “She was going into the library just as I was coming out.”
Doing her research, Liss thought. And soaking up gossip. Dolores Mayfield, the town librarian, would have been happy to dish the dirt, even with a stranger.
“Sounds to me as if you and Nola have an irrational fear of this Nedlinger woman’s power, Liss,” Doug said. He’d dragged the combination stool and stepladder that Dan had custom-built for Liss out of the kitchen to perch on. “I’m sure there’s no cause for alarm.”
“I disagree,” Stu said. “She’s a real threat. One we need to deal with. Let’s face it, Moosetookalook doesn’t need any more bad publicity.”
Liss wished she could take more satisfaction from Stu’s change of heart, but she suspected he’d come down on the opposite side from Doug just to spite the other man. They’d never gotten along all that well.
“And exactly how do you propose that we do that?” Doug sounded bored.
“We’ll think of something.” Stu swiveled on the sofa so that he could look at each of the other MSBA members in turn, but no one had any solution to suggest.
Patsy produced a jaw-popping yawn. “Maybe we should sleep on it.”
“Maybe we should stay right here and brainstorm until we come up with a workable solution,” Stu shot back. “Plug away at it all night if we have to. Unless this town doesn’t mean as much to the rest of you as it does to me.”
Doug produced a clean white handkerchief from his breast pocket, took off his glasses, polished them, and replaced the handkerchief before he responded to Stu’s taunt. “I, for one, can’t think of any way to stop the woman from posting to her blog. If she does, we’ll just have to live with the fallout.”
“We could threaten to sue her if she writes about us,” Stu shot back.
“What good will a threat do?” The normally amiable Angie sounded irritated. “It won’t stop her. And once the damage is done, there’s no point in taking her to court. The burden of proof is on us. By the time we collect any solid figures, we’ll already be hurting financially. We won’t have the spare cash to shell out for a lawyer.”
“So we just give up and let her write any damned thing she wants?” Stu was no longer just yanking Doug’s chain. Genuine outrage turned his face an ugly red. “No way!”
They debated the issue for another hour. Everyone was in agreement that they hoped to profit from the mystery conference and others like it. There was a general consensus that if Jane Nedlinger could be persuaded not to write a blog post that mentioned Liss, murder, and Moosetookalook in the same piece, she should be. But no one had a workable plan to convince the blogger to alter her plans.
Individual MSBA members gave up one by one and drifted away, heading home to their beds. Finally only Stu, Doug, Nola, Dan, and Liss remained. Nothing had been resolved.
Liss sighed and turned to Nola. “Give me a minute to let the cats up from the cellar and I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”
“No need for you to bother, Liss,” Stu Burroughs cut in. “I can take her.”
Nola’s cheeks flared pink. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, come on, Nola. I promise not to try to lure you into the woods to have my wicked way with you.” He made obnoxious little kissing noises at her, causing her color to deepen into red.
“Leave her alone, Stu,” Doug interrupted. “You always did have a sick sense of humor.” He took Nola’s hand. She tried to pull free, but his grip was too tight. “You must allow me to see you back to The Spruces. I’m headed that way anyhow.”
“You’re offering the lady a ride in the hearse?” Stu gave a bleat of laughter.
“I’ll be driving my personal vehicle,” Doug said in a voice as cold as embalming fluid. “That’s a Porsche,” he added for Nola’s benefit.
If he expected her to be impressed, he was doomed to disappointment. She just looked more rattled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, either.” She sent a desperate look Liss’s way.
“Back off, both of you,” Liss told them.
But Doug did not release his grip on Nola’s hand. If anything, he tightened his hold, making her wince. “I was so looking forward to reminiscing,” he said, “and to telling Nola all about my lovely wife and our fine, upstanding son.”
Liss was sorely tempted to tell Doug, then and there, just how carelessly young Frank had handled Lenny Peet’s body, but she knew this was not the right moment. “It’s up to you, Nola,” she said instead.
To Liss’s surprise, Nola pulled herself together. She tugged her hand free and poked one finger into Doug’s chest. “Since you say you’re going my way anyhow, I’ll accept a lift from you, but I refuse to look at baby pictures.”
Then, while Doug pulled on the thin leather driving gloves he wore year-round, claiming his hands were always cold, Nola turned on Stu.
“As for you, Stu Burroughs, since you’ve agreed to call the charity auction, I will talk to you tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I’ve no interest in your company. You’ll have to excuse both of them,” she added to Liss, sending an apol
ogetic look her way. “They always did snap at each other like a couple of pit bulls.”
Wearing a disgruntled expression on his face, Stu watched Nola and Doug leave together. When he glanced Liss’s way again, he had the grace to look embarrassed. “I guess I got a little out of line. Sorry.”
She patted him on the shoulder, grinning. “No more than usual, Stu.”
He chuckled, but sobered again instantly. “About this Nedlinger woman—don’t you worry your pretty little head about her. We’ll figure something out. Stands to reason there’s some way to scotch her story.”
Chapter Five
When Dan released Liss’s two cats from their prison, he got a snarl from Lumpkin for his trouble.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and reached down to stroke Glenora. Friendlier than her “brother,” she was stropping his ankles in appreciation.
Lumpkin headed for his food bowl. When he found it was empty, he sent an indignant look over his shoulder. Dan obligingly poured out some kibble. After a few more hasty preparations, he returned to the living room. “Alone at last,” he said when the door closed behind Stu Burroughs.
Liss turned, smiling. “Not quite.” She nodded toward Lumpkin, who had followed Dan into the room.
She scratched the big cat behind the ears, then tried to pet his broad, furry head. She jerked and cried out when he nipped the tip of one finger.
“So much for the theory that cats have a calming effect.” Dan took her hand and inspected the indentations Lumpkin’s teeth had made. Lucky for Lumpkin there was little damage. Dan had made his share of excuses for the cat in the past, but he drew the line at serious injury to Liss’s person. “Apparently he’s not in the mood to soothe.”
“Being locked up makes him cranky.”
“I wonder how he’d like living at the animal shelter?”
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