A chorus of voices seconded the motion.
Jeremiah Forestall was all but jumping up and down in agitation. “You are courting financial disaster for your town!” he bellowed.
“We are courting environmental disaster if we sign away our rights the way you want us to do. If my uncle’s claims are groundless, then it shouldn’t be difficult for your company to prove it. Produce the studies you say you’ve had done. Give us all the facts, in layman’s terms. This is an issue that affects everyone who lives in Moosetookalook. Every citizen of this town should have a say in deciding what to do.”
“The board will take a vote.” John Farley had to raise his voice to a shout to be heard above the din.
Liss held her breath as she watched the three of them huddle, but she need not have worried. Farley and Ranger prevailed. Only Thea still favored accepting Forestall’s deal as offered. After a second whispered consultation, Farley announced that the town’s attorney would look into each of the incidents listed in Charlie’s memo.
“Fools!” Jeremiah Forestall looked ready to pummel them, after he’d beaten Liss to a pulp. He had to settle for issuing an ultimatum. “You have one week. If you haven’t signed the deal with my company by then, I’ll take my business elsewhere. And if you think you’ll ever be offered such a golden opportunity again, you are sadly mistaken.”
With that pronouncement he stalked out of the firehouse, his footfalls heavy as he stomped down the municipal building’s hallway and slammed the door that led to the parking lot at the rear.
Thea’s parting shot was quieter, but no less angry. “This town needs a steady source of income if it’s going to survive. Think about that!” She followed Forestall’s path through the side door into the hall.
Liss was abruptly surrounded by dozens of people, all talking at once. Some congratulated her. Others had questions. A few already looked as if they were having second thoughts about losing the income and the jobs the project had promised.
By the time Liss and Dan left for home, her elation at winning over two of the three selectmen had already begun to wane. Given the hard economic times and Forestall’s deadline, the board’s final decision was still in doubt. If proof of the company’s perfidy couldn’t be found quickly, their next vote could go either way.
* * *
The following day, Mac and Vi drove to Three Cities to meet Margaret and bring her home to Moosetookalook. Liss dreaded her reunion with her aunt. As Charlie MacCrimmon’s sister, Margaret would be shocked by the news of his reappearance and subsequent death, but she would also be furious that her family had waited until she came back from Ireland to tell her about it. From a practical standpoint, there had been no point in informing her before she returned, but Margaret wasn’t likely to see it that way.
While she waited for her aunt to arrive, Liss made a phone call to set in motion the next stage of her plan to defeat Merveilleuse International. She hoped it would also lead to unmasking Charlie’s killer.
She was in the stockroom at the Emporium when she heard the bell over the shop door jangle. Then, far clearer than the bell, came the voice of Margaret MacCrimmon Boyd.
“I can manage, Donald. Thank you for the ride. Now go home.” She sounded testy and impatient.
Liss squared her shoulders, pasted a neutral expression on her face, and went out into the shop.
Margaret abandoned her luggage where Liss’s father had dropped it. She stalked toward her niece, fire in her eyes and her mouth opening to deliver what would no doubt be a scalding rebuke. She stopped dead at the sound of joyful barking.
Dandy and Dondi had been napping in the stockroom while Liss worked. Now they flung themselves through the door, nearly bowling over their temporary caretaker. Furry faces alight with joy, the two Scotties capered around their prodigal owner to welcome Margaret home.
Whatever she’d intended to say to her niece momentarily forgotten, Margaret knelt to gather the dogs into her arms. She didn’t fall into the category of pet owners who used baby talk to their fur babies, but she did gush.
“Oh, my darlings,” she murmured. “I’m so glad so see you. Have you been good while I was away?”
“Perfect angels,” Liss said in a dry voice.
After a series of face licks, head pats, belly rubs, and nose kisses, Margaret eased herself upright. “Well, Liss. I hear things have been lively around here.”
“Too lively. We need to talk.”
Margaret studied her for a long moment. “Yes. All right. Let me take my things up to the apartment and tidy up a bit and then I’ll come back down. No need for you to close the Emporium.”
Liss didn’t argue. She didn’t anticipate being interrupted, no matter where they had this discussion, but in that she was wrong. No sooner had Margaret disappeared up the stairs, the dogs trailing happily after her, than the front door opened again to admit actual walk-in customers. Guests at The Spruces, they’d been delighted to hear, on this gray and dismal day, that there were “cute little shops” in the village.
The three women exclaimed over Liss’s merchandise, engaging in a lively debate about what someone named Dorothy, who apparently had Scottish roots, would prefer as a birthday gift, a thistle pin or a blown-glass representation of the Loch Ness Monster. In the end they chose a silk scarf in the Douglas tartan. Liss rang up the sale—thirty dollars and change—and wrapped their purchase carefully in tissue; then she tucked it into a bright red bag with the shop’s logo imprinted on the front. The design was Margaret’s, a holdover from the days when she’d been sole proprietor of the Emporium. Liss had never seen any reason to change it.
“I’ve put the Scotties out in their dog run,” her aunt announced when she bustled back into the shop just moments after Liss’s customers departed. Liss had the feeling she’d been waiting for them to leave.
Expertly balancing a tray containing a teapot and two pretty china cups, Margaret carried it into the shop’s cozy corner and placed it carefully on the coffee table between two comfortably upholstered chairs. She had changed out of the rumpled garments she’d worn for the flight and bus ride home and was more comfortably attired in well-worn jeans and a loose sweatshirt.
When Margaret had worked in the Emporium every day, she’d dressed in items they offered for sale. During her tenure as events coordinator at The Spruces, she’d always looked professional in classic skirts and blazers, pants suits, and simple A-line dresses. In retirement, for the first time in her life, she was able to wear the same casual styles Liss herself preferred.
Warily perched on the edge of her seat, Liss watched her aunt pour the tea. By the smell it was chamomile, an herbal brew that was supposed to have a soothing, calming effect. Was that for Margaret’s benefit, she wondered, or because she thought Liss was going to need it?
“Are you upset with me?” Liss accepted the cup and tried not to grimace when she took the first sip. Chamomile was not her favorite and Margaret knew it.
“With you? No. With your father for not contacting me at once? Yes. And with your mother—” Margaret broke off to scowl. “Really! That woman needs a keeper.”
Liss set the cup down, barely touched. “What did she do to get you so riled up?”
“She made all the arrangements for my brother’s funeral without consulting me about any of them. It’s to be held tomorrow, for goodness’ sake!”
“That can’t be right.”
“She didn’t tell you? Apparently, she’s already sent notices to all the media outlets.”
Liss wasn’t really surprised. This was just another case of Violet MacCrimmon arbitrarily deciding that her daughter had no need to be in the loop. Liss had hoped the tentative moves she and her mother had been making toward a better understanding of each other would have encouraged Vi to confide in her about things like this. Wrong again! She’d share wild theories about strange men watching Charlie’s house in Florida, but not any plan of which she suspected Liss might disapprove.
“Why the rush
?” she asked her aunt.
“That’s what I wanted to know. Vi said she had to act fast to protect your father.” She hesitated and took a sip of her tea before asking, “Do the police really believe Donald could have killed his own brother?”
“He’s on their list of suspects,” Liss admitted.
“Idiots.” She sipped again, set the cup down, then picked it up again. “Anyway, Vi’s argument is that murderers always attend the funerals of their victims. She thinks she’s going to be able to tell who’s guilty just by studying the faces and demeanor of the people who show up tomorrow.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Your mother seems to look on Charlie’s murder as some sort of treasure hunt. She’s determined to uncover my brother’s secrets before the police do, as if there’s some sort of prize for being the first one to find all the clues.”
“She does tend to get carried away by her enthusiasm.”
“You think?”
“Am I . . .” Liss hesitated. “Am I the same way?”
Margaret regarded her with solemn eyes over the rim of her teacup. “You can be. You’ve settled down a bit the last few years. You aren’t quite as impulsive as you used to be. You’re still much too impatient, though.”
“Um, okay.”
Liss had meant to pepper Margaret with questions about Charlie. Now she wasn’t sure she dared. A secretive little smile played around the corners of Margaret’s mouth, suggesting that she knew very well the dilemma her niece was facing.
“I’m not fragile,” she said. “And I did my grieving for Charlie a long time ago. If there’s something you want to know, just ask.”
“Okay, then. First let me bring you up to speed.”
“Vi was pretty thorough. Donald tried valiantly to pretend he couldn’t hear her.”
“Mother doesn’t know all the details I do, and she doesn’t know that, since I don’t trust the town’s lawyer to move fast enough, I hired Jake Murch this morning. I’ve asked him to try to find the evidence Charlie uncovered about Merveilleuse International and the whereabouts of that company’s representatives on the night Charlie was murdered.” She’d also given the private detective the license plate number her mother had e-mailed from Florida, on the theory that it couldn’t hurt to have him check it out.
“Ah,” said Margaret.
Liss’s aunt didn’t need to say more. Murch might initially come across as a caricature of a private eye, but he was good at what he did. He’d been a big help to the MacCrimmons in the past, and if anyone could get the goods on Forestall’s company before that arbitrary one-week deadline, it was Jake Murch.
Liss went on to provide her aunt with a concise account of Charlie’s death and its aftermath. She gave the Scotties credit for her discovery that he’d been hiding out in Margaret’s apartment; then she explained how she and Vi had found a connection to Moosetookalook in Charlie’s house in Florida. She ended with her summary of Thea Campbell’s refusal to believe there was anything wrong with the water deal.
“I must confess that I’m surprised to hear that about Thea. She’s usually the most levelheaded, reasonable member of the board.”
“It is odd,” Liss agreed, “but I’ve been told she had a history with Uncle Charlie. Might that account for it?”
Her aunt’s face creased into a puzzled frown. “Thea and Charlie? When was this?”
“Back when they were in high school in Fallstown, apparently. You don’t remember that they dated?”
“I was four years younger than Charlie, and up until ninth grade, when we were bussed to the consolidated school in Fallstown, we attended classes in the old schoolhouse here in Moosetookalook. Kids in my class wouldn’t have known what Charlie was up to, unless they had older brothers or sisters who ratted him out.”
“Dad never said anything to you?”
Margaret shook her head. “Charlie and Donald didn’t want to have anything to do with their annoying little sister once they went off to high school with the big kids. For the most part the feeling was mutual. I had my own interests.”
“Dan’s father, Sherri’s father, and Dolores Mayfield were all in your class, right?” She already knew they had been, but she hoped to prompt her aunt to say more.
Margaret nodded. “Dolores Mayfield was Dolores Heston back then.”
“And Moose was several years older?”
Another nod answered her.
“I gather he and Charlie hung out together, and that they let Ernie Willett tag along with them, even though he was so much younger.”
“I don’t recall that. It was much later that Ernie and I started dating.”
“And Thea? Did you know her back then?”
Margaret shook her head. “She didn’t live in Moosetookalook and she’s older than I am, so I didn’t meet her until she married George Campbell. Now the Campbells, as you know, have lived in the village almost as long as the MacCrimmons, and George was a fan of all things Scottish, so my husband and I saw a lot of him and young Pete. Thea? Not so much.”
Margaret refilled her teacup, frowning when she realized that Liss’s was still half full.
“Drink up, dear, before it gets cold.”
Her mind elsewhere, Liss obeyed, then fought not to gag as the unpleasant-tasting, lukewarm liquid made its way down her throat.
“I remember that our whole family went to all of Charlie’s football games,” Margaret said. “I was proud that my brother was so popular.”
“Did he have a reputation for being a bit wild?”
Margaret shrugged. “No question but that the girls flocked around him, and I know he used to sneak out of the house sometimes to go drinking with his buddies. Typical teenaged boy stuff.” She dismissed such behavior with a careless wave of one hand. “We lived in the house you own now, but you knew that. Charlie and Donald had the room at the back, and Charlie used to go out through the window onto the roof of the back stoop and jump the rest of the way to the ground.” She chuckled. “It’s a wonder he never broke an ankle or an arm. I’ve no idea how he got back in. Right through the house, I suppose. No one bothered to lock their doors in those days.”
“Maybe your parents did know,” Liss suggested. “Maybe they just didn’t want to let on.”
“Could be. They were pretty easygoing people.”
Liss leaned forward in her chair. “They must have been aware of one incident. There was a car accident. A boy was killed.”
Margaret gave a start. Eyes widening, she stared at her niece. “I’d forgotten all about that! Terrible thing. Your father and I and our parents were so grateful Charlie wasn’t seriously hurt. And that he wasn’t the one driving, of course. That couldn’t have been swept under the carpet.”
“I read the newspaper account. It said the car involved in the accident was stolen, and that the boys took it to go joyriding.”
Frowning, Margaret clutched her teacup in both hands, as if she suddenly felt the need for its warmth. After a moment she said, “I don’t think Charlie was ever charged with anything, but if memory serves, our father kept him on a tight leash for a while. He might have had to do some community service. Sweeping out the firehouse. That sort of thing.”
“Do you remember—”
“With the age difference between us, I doubt I ever knew much about what Charlie got up to.” Margaret stood abruptly, collected the tea service, and strode toward the stairwell. “I need to unpack and let the dogs back inside.”
Liss let her go. Given her father’s comments about Charlie, and Margaret’s hasty retreat when faced with questions about him, she was getting the distinct impression that neither of them wanted to dredge up any further memories of her uncle.
She remained where she was, leaning her head against the back of the easy chair. The thoughts running through her mind were disturbing. Other people might believe that Charlie’s siblings had idolized him, but the truth appeared to be otherwise.
She had to wonder if that was why Detective Cussler c
ontinued to keep Mac MacCrimmon on her list of suspects.
Chapter Twelve
There had once been a funeral parlor in Moosetookalook, located at one corner of the town square. After a brief stint in private ownership, the building had been purchased by the local historical society and turned into a museum. Even so, Violet MacCrimmon might have chosen to hold Charlie’s service in the village instead of making arrangements in neighboring Fallstown. Since her decision obliged the locals to drive twenty minutes to pay their respects, it prompted considerable grumbling.
“What was wrong with having the funeral in the church?” Liss asked as Dan slid into the passenger seat of her dark blue SUV.
“Maybe the fact that neither the MacCrimmons nor the Ruskins are regular churchgoers?” He tugged at the tie Vi had insisted he wear “to show respect.” His dress suit, last worn a few years earlier, looked equally snug and uncomfortable.
“Reverend Brown wouldn’t have minded. He married us, didn’t he? And he and Mom are like this.” She held up two fingers pressed tightly together. “She calls him Brownie, for goodness’ sake.”
“Are you seriously expecting me to explain why your mother does anything?”
Liss drove out of Moosetookalook in silence, but once on the road south, she lobbed another question at her husband. “Do you think anyone will show up?”
“Oh, yeah. The ghouls will be out. Murder draws them like flies and your mother went out of her way to make sure notices appeared in all the papers and online to announce the date and time of the service.”
“I mean people who actually knew Charlie, aside from my family, that is.”
He hesitated. “Hard to say. For most people, attending services at two o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday means taking off time from work.”
“Charlie’s old pals must all be retired by now.”
“Maybe not. Ernie Willett isn’t. And look at my father.”
She had to smile at the mention of Joe Ruskin. He was enjoying himself too much to ever stop working at The Spruces, although he had given up active participation in Ruskin Construction without a qualm. So had Dan, when he left the family firm to set up his own business as a custom woodworker.
A View to a Kilt Page 17
