“I’m inclined to agree with Liss,” Sherri said. “If the person who threw that rock had wanted, he could have hit one of you with it. It would have been just as easy to shoot you from the back stoop, but instead of a bullet, it was a stone that broke the glass.”
“Are you saying there’s nothing to worry about, just because nobody got hurt?” Dan’s scowl would have made a lesser woman quail.
Sherri shook her head. “I’m taking this very seriously, but as scare tactics go, it strikes me as pretty juvenile.”
“Shooting a hole in the window would have been much more effective.” It was a cringeworthy thought. At the same time the choice of ammunition seemed to rule out someone from Merveilleuse International. Liss said as much aloud.
“Who else is upset with you?” Sherri asked.
“The possibilities are endless,” Dan muttered.
Liss gave a rueful chuckle. “Aside from angry selectmen, there could also be spies, or maybe mercenaries.”
Sherri’s eyes widened. “ ‘Spies’ and ‘mercenaries’—where did that come from?”
“Not where. Who? My mother.” Liss made a dismissive gesture. “That’s her theory about how Charlie spent his missing years. Never mind. I know the idea is preposterous.”
“At this point I’m willing to entertain any theory, because there’s no sensible reason I can come up with for someone to have tossed a rock through your window, let alone one with an enigmatic message tied to it.”
“There isn’t anything enigmatic about it,” Dan objected. “That’s a direct threat.”
“Stop snooping, or else,” Liss agreed. “The funny thing is, I was planning to stop asking questions anyway.”
Sherri sent her a skeptical look.
“Seriously. What would be the point? The state police already know everything I do. There’s no longer any chance the selectmen will vote to sell our water rights, and I have to trust that Detective Cussler will eventually find out who murdered my uncle. There’s no reason for me to keep looking for answers.”
“Could someone local be angry because the water deal is about to fall through?” Dan didn’t have to speak Thea Campbell’s name aloud.
“No, I don’t see it,” Sherri said after a moment. “She was seriously put out with Liss, even though it was her own fault she let her personal feelings for Wade Udall prevent her from thoroughly investigating the water company. Still, can you really picture my mother-in-law creeping into your backyard and flinging a rock through your window?”
“It does seem far-fetched,” Dan agreed.
Liss said nothing. If it was possible to imagine Thea following Charlie to that same location and bashing him over the head with a tree limb, it was certainly possible to see her committing an act of petty vandalism in an effort to punish Liss for disrupting her plans.
“All right,” Sherri said in a brisk voice. “Let’s assume for the moment that this isn’t connected to the water issue, but to something else in Charlie MacCrimmon’s murky past. Who’s left, and what do they think you might find out?”
Liss sent her an amused look. “So we’re back to spies and mercenaries?”
“What about Clementine?” Dan suggested. “She strikes me as the type who’d throw rocks, and they can’t keep watch over her twenty-four/seven.”
“Clementine?” Sherri started to scribble the name in her notebook.
“Clementine Hillerman,” Liss said. “I forgot to tell you about her.”
She launched into a somewhat garbled account of the appearance of the woman in black at Charlie’s funeral, followed by what she’d learned since about Clementine’s history. “She isn’t likely to be our rock thrower. First she’d have to have discovered that I was looking into my uncle’s past. Then, assuming that she felt threatened by my questions, she’d have to have escaped from the nursing home, arranged for transportation to Moosetookalook, and found out where we live.”
“Someone threw that rock.” Dan’s frustration echoed what Liss was feeling.
Sherri closed her notebook. “Yes, someone did. And if we’re lucky, one of your neighbors saw something. Let me see what I can find out.”
When she stood, Liss did, too. “Are you going to talk to them now?”
“It’s not that late and I want to catch people while their memories are still fresh.”
“Okay.” She followed her friend to the door, grabbing her coat as she went.
“Hold it right there. If you think you’re coming with me, think again.”
“So much for not asking any more questions.” Dan sounded resigned.
Liss ignored him and focused on Sherri. “I have to do something. I’ll go crazy sitting at home, waiting for you to let us know what you find out.”
“You’re not a cop, Liss. This is police business.”
Nothing Sherri could have said would have been more likely to make Liss dig in her heels. “You can’t stop me from tagging along. If you insist on talking to the neighbors in private, I’ll just wait until you’re finished and ask them to repeat everything they just told you.”
With a roll of her eyes, Sherri gave in to the inevitable. “Come on, then. We’ll start with Sandy and Zara.”
* * *
Sandy let Liss and Sherri into the apartment just as Zara was about to put their children to bed. They’d had their baths and been dressed in cute superhero jammies and had already picked out the book for that evening’s read.
“Hi, Aunt Liss!” seven-year-old Max piped up.
“Hi, Aunt Liss!” his sister echoed.
“Mommy, we can’t go to bed now. We got company.”
“Your father and I have company,” Zara corrected her precocious son. “You and Tamara have a date with the sandman.”
The five-year-old sulked. Max just looked crafty. Zara herded them out of the living room, promising to return as soon as she’d read them their bedtime story.
“What’s up, Liss? Sherri?” Sandy gestured for them to sit, but he looked worried.
Liss could understand his wariness. Old friends they might be, but it was unusual for her to just drop in on them at this time of day. More to the point, while Sherri and Liss were close friends, Sherri had never socialized much with Zara. That she was there in her official capacity as chief of police was glaringly obvious.
“A little over an hour ago, someone tossed a rock through our kitchen window,” Liss said. “Did you hear or see anything unusual at about that time?”
Alarm flashed across Sandy’s expressive face. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, but there was a threatening note attached to the rock.”
“What the devil have you been up to now?”
“Just the usual,” Sherri said in a dry voice. “Did you hear anything?”
“No.” He frowned. “About then, we’d have been watching a video with the kids. That’s a special treat for them. For us, not so much.” His frown turned into a rueful smile. “When you’ve seen the same kid flick a dozen times, it kind of pales on you.”
“So you might not have been giving it your full attention?”
“If you’re thinking I’d have been able to hear the sound of breaking glass from as far away as your place, that theory won’t fly. Besides, the volume was turned way up.”
“Are you sure neither you nor Zara got up for a minute, maybe to use the bathroom?” For Sherri’s benefit she added, “It’s at the back of the apartment and overlooks a small section of our backyard, as well as theirs.”
That was why young Max had seen something the night Charlie was killed. At the question in Sandy’s eyes, Liss gave a small negative shake of the head. She’d never told the police about that, and she didn’t intend to now.
“I know I didn’t,” Sandy said. “I was sitting on the sofa the whole time with one arm around each kid. They’re both still numb. The arms, not the kids.”
“We’ll wait and ask Zara,” Sherri said.
“Suit yourselves. In the meantime . . . maybe you c
ould tell me what the heck’s going on?”
Liss gave him the capsule version. He had to stifle a chuckle when she recited the message that had been attached to the rock.
“Seriously? Some teenager’s having you on, Liss.”
“Maybe,” Sherri said. “Maybe not. I’d rather err on the side of caution. After all, we still don’t know who killed Charlie MacCrimmon.”
Sandy sobered instantly. “Yeah. Sorry.” He glanced at Liss. “You know, it’s funny. We spent years working together and I never knew you had an uncle Charlie.”
“Neither did I.”
That statement required more explanations. By the time Liss finished answering Sandy’s questions, Zara had joined them.
“I think they’re both asleep.”
“Are you sure?” Liss couldn’t resist asking. “Maybe Max has a book he wants to finish reading.”
Sandy chuckled. “I think he learned his lesson.”
Since Sherri was looking curious, he explained about the bare lightbulb under the pillow, after which Liss repeated the story of the rock through the window for Zara’s benefit and asked the same question she’d already put to Sandy.
“I wish I had seen or heard something,” Zara said, “but I didn’t leave the living room while the movie was on.”
“Okay,” Sherri said, rising from her chair. “Thanks for your time. Liss, do you want to come with me to the Farleys’ house, too?”
Liss hesitated, remembering that John Farley, like Thea, was on the board of selectmen. Although she couldn’t picture the middle-aged accountant resorting to childish tricks, she decided that she wouldn’t feel comfortable sitting in while Sherri questioned him.
“I think I’ll pass. You can disturb their evening on your own.”
“Are you sure?” Sherri sounded surprised.
“I’m going to go on home. If anyone in the neighborhood saw anything, you’ll let us know, right?”
Promising that she would, Sherri left.
“You okay, Liss?” Sandy asked when she lingered.
“Sure. I just have a lot of things piling up on me all at once. March Madness is tomorrow, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“How could we?” Zara said with a laugh. “The kids have talked of nothing else for days. They’re excited about the mud slide. Me? Not so much. Do you know how many washings it will take to get all the dirt out of their clothes?”
“It’s a fine old Moosetookalook tradition,” Liss said with mock solemnity. And she did not want to know the number of washings.
“Stay for a nightcap?” Sandy invited.
Liss took him up on the offer and found it surprisingly relaxing to spend a half hour listening to her friends recount their children’s latest exploits and share amusing anecdotes about the dance classes they taught.
* * *
It wasn’t until Liss was outside, walking the short distance between the two houses, that she remembered she’d been the object of what might have been a death threat. All at once, the night seemed rife with unidentified rustlings. It was also way too dark for comfort. The light from the streetlamp across the street did little to penetrate the shadows.
Her breath caught in her throat and her hand went involuntarily to her heart when she caught sight of a shadowy form cutting across the town square. It took a moment for her to realize that the figure was moving away from her. She laughed at herself for being so foolish when one of the streetlights on Ash Street showed her the bulky shape and shambling walk that identified the individual as Moose Mayfield. He was probably on his way home from a beer run to the High Street Market, located on the block behind Liss and Dan’s house. She was glad he’d had sense enough to walk rather than drive.
Nothing else happened to alarm her, but she found Dan waiting for her inside the house and looking anxious.
“Sherri called. The Farleys didn’t see or hear anything, either. She said you were still next door when she left, but I was beginning to worry about you.”
“No need. I’m fine.”
She wasn’t about to admit how spooked she’d been only a few minutes earlier. When Glenora appeared and began to wind herself around Liss’s ankles, she stooped to pick up the cat. She needed a moment to think without having to worry about what her husband might read in her expression.
Dan had been concerned about her safety. She could hardly be mad at him for that. And out there, all alone in the dark, for just a moment, she had thought it possible that the person who’d thrown that rock might still be lurking nearby.
“Sorry,” she said. “I should have called to let you know I was going to stay on at Zara and Sandy’s for a bit.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and sent her a sheepish look. “Yeah, well, you’re home now, safe and sound. Sherri said to tell you that she’ll keep asking around.”
“Maybe she can get a fingerprint off that note.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I cleaned away the fragments of glass and boarded up the broken window while you were out. I’ll fix it properly in the morning.”
She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I do love being married to a man from a family in the construction business.”
“Yeah. About that family. Before we call it a night, I think we’d better tell them what happened this evening.”
“I suppose so.”
She shared his lack of enthusiasm, but she didn’t see that they had much choice. Dan’s father, brother, and sister had been upset with him when they’d had to hear about Charlie’s murder on the evening news. As for her parents and Aunt Margaret, it would be better all around if they learned of this latest incident from her rather than by way of the Moosetookalook grapevine.
Dan glanced at the clock on the cable box. “It’s not all that late. Let’s get this over with.”
She followed his gaze, astonished to see that it was not yet ten.
Explanations to each of the members of their immediate families went about as well as expected. Liss’s mother wanted her to spend the night at their place, where she’d be safe.
“I’m not in any danger here, Mom.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Think about it. Our house is in a well-lit spot close to the police station. You’re eight miles out of town with no neighbors close by.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Vi sounded huffy.
“It is that way.” But as Liss listened to the rest of her mother’s unsolicited advice about how to stay safe from predators, she took the precaution of closing the curtains on the nearest window.
As soon as all the calls were completed, Dan made one last check of the locks on their doors and windows. Then he made hot chocolate. By the time they’d polished off their drinks and eaten several chocolate-chip cookies, it was nearly midnight.
Liss groaned aloud when she set her alarm clock for six the next morning. Whether she was ready for it or not, the twelve hours of Moosetookalook’s annual March Madness Mud Season Sale began at eight. It was going to be a very long day.
Chapter Sixteen
From inside Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium, Liss had an excellent view of the goings-on in the town square. Despite fears that the weather wouldn’t cooperate, a sudden warm spell had produced near-perfect conditions for creating the giant mud puddle needed for the woman-carrying race.
As for the children’s activities, she could hear the squeals of delight right through her plate glass window. The favorite, as always, was the mud slide, a standard playground slide realigned to send those who went down it splashing into soft, squishy mud.
A crowd had gathered around the mud cupcake–making competition and another was watching elementary-school-aged kids finger paint with mud on huge canvases supplied, for a small fee, by Ye Olde Hobbie Shoppe. Elsewhere, slightly older children were making mud bricks and using them to build castles and other fanciful structures. There was even an area set aside for sketching pictures on the muddy ground. Liss promised herself she’d take a look at t
he artwork later in the day. If past results were anything to go by, she’d see everything from stick figures to portraits of fire-breathing dragons.
Providing the answer to a customer’s question took her away from the window. For the next hour after that, she didn’t have another free moment. Business was booming all over town, in part because of the excellent bargains that store owners were offering, but also because the children’s activities were supervised, leaving parents free to shop.
Once the prizes had been awarded, adults could take their youngsters to the cleanup station at the firehouse. Anticipating the messiness of that job at the end of a long day, many people were inclined, perhaps by way of compensation, to indulge themselves by making frivolous purchases.
Liss’s father worked behind the counter. He was in his element as he joked with buyers and rang up sales. Around noontime he ducked into the back to bolt down a sandwich, then spelled his daughter while she did the same.
Liss returned from the stockroom after this short lunch break to find the Emporium empty of customers. “What’s going on?”
“Need you ask? How often does anyone get to see big, burly men carrying petite wives or girlfriends through an obstacle course that, more often than not, sends both of them sprawling in the mud?” Mac was shaking his head as he walked with her to the window. “I’ve got to admit, this is one event I just don’t get.”
“The story I’ve heard is that the competition is based on a Finnish legend. From the middle ages, I think. Anyway, Ronkainen the Robber and his men used to raid villages and kidnap the women. They’d carry them off on their backs. One version of the tale has Ronkainen training his band of thieves in advance by having them practice running with heavy sacks slung over their shoulders.”
“And someone thought this would work as a sport?”
“Apparently, but not someone from Moosetookalook. We didn’t invent it. The official sport is called wife-carrying. There have been races in North America since 1999 and the championship is held right here in Maine.”
“Then why are we calling it woman-carrying? Not enough volunteer wives?”
“Oh, no. The official rules don’t insist a couple be married. We call our competition woman-carrying because it’s an unsanctioned event. We use a shorter, slipperier course and only run one heat. Say what you will, it’s been extremely popular the last few years.”
A View to a Kilt Page 22
