“I know they were . . . involved when Mom was in college.”
Mac waved that away as unimportant. “It was a passing fancy. Sowing wild oats. Whatever you want to call it, it wasn’t serious. What we had was. But Palsgrave didn’t like losing. First he made a point of telling me about their affair. That was about a week before our wedding. He didn’t realize that Vi had already confessed everything. Then he tried to convince me that he was better for her than I was. That I should break it off.”
“He wanted to marry Mom?”
“He did not,” Vi yelped.
Mac shook his head. “I doubt it. I seriously doubt it. He just didn’t like letting anyone else have her. And recently, when he saw a chance to come back into her life, even after so many years, he was determined to seize it. He wouldn’t have been happy until he’d seduced your mother all over again.”
“As if I’d have let him,” Vi grumbled. She reached out to clasp Mac’s hand. He squeezed hers in return.
Liss went back downstairs in a daze. It was disturbing enough to hear about her parents’ sex life, but this new side to her father had her seriously freaked out. He loved her mother enough to want to protect her from a man he saw as a threat. Liss got that. What stunned her was that he’d reacted so irrationally. He’d never been one to lose his temper, but jealousy was a powerful emotion—powerful enough to drive men to kill.
Liss entered the library and closed the door. Once she was seated at the desk, she pulled out another of her ever-present lined yellow tablets and started the chronology of events that she’d been meaning to make for days.
July 2
Dad quarrels with A. Leon Palsgrave; overheard by Norma Leeds and possibly others
Before July 9
At Mom’s insistence, Dad phones history department to make an appointment to apologize
Liss paused in her writing to study the last entry. She’d have to ask her father exactly when he’d made the appointment and who he’d talked to. Whoever had framed him for murder must have known he’d be going to Three Cities that day.
July 8 (?), probably in the middle of the night
someone sneaks into Emporium and takes broadsword from the display window
Angie notices sword missing but she’s not sure when
July 9
Palsgrave’s class starts at 8 AM
Dad leaves Moosetookalook to go to Three Cities for appointment with Palsgrave
Protestors gather outside Lincoln Hall, knowing Palsgrave’s class meets there
Sherri, Zara, Mom, and I leave Moosetookalook to go to Three Cities for dress fitting
Palsgrave dismisses class early
Dad arrives for his appointment but Palsgrave is not in his office
Caroline Halladay suggests Dad go to Palsgrave’s classroom
Dad finds the classroom empty, leaves and heads back to Moosetookalook
Palsgrave returns to his classroom—Why? And where was he?
Again, Liss stopped writing. Palsgrave was supposed to be in his classroom, teaching a three-hour summer seminar that started at eight in the morning. Why had he changed his routine? And had any of his students seen anything before they left the building? She sighed. Her time line was creating more questions than it answered. Still, she went on with it. She didn’t have any better ideas.
Unknown party with broadsword probably uses art gallery shortcut to reach classroom
Palsgrave murdered
Killer probably returns the same way and exits through door near “the pit”
Caroline Halladay sends Willa Somener to see if Palsgrave is still in his classroom
Willa goes the long way around; stops to talk to Gabe; finds body
Liss tapped her pencil against the pad. According to Gabe Treat, at least a half hour passed between Mac’s exit from Lincoln Hall and Willa’s arrival. That was plenty of time for someone else to find Palsgrave alone and slaughter him, but a very tight time frame if the murder was planned with the intent of framing Mac MacCrimmon. The killer would have to steal the broadsword from Liss’s display window in advance and know exactly when Liss’s father was due to arrive, and that he would not find Palsgrave in the classroom when he looked for him there. But how had he lured Palsgrave away, then convinced him to go back?
To be honest, this scenario defied belief—except that the only other possibility she could think of was that her father really was the killer. That, Liss refused to believe. She forced herself to finish listing events in the order they’d happened.
local police arrive, then state police
reporters arrive
“breaking story” makes noon news
we head back to Moosetookalook
Dad arrives in Moosetookalook about an hour before we do
She quickly flipped the page and began a new list, copying all the names Melly had given her of faculty members who probably had a master key to Lincoln Hall. Melly had written them down for her after their visit to the scene of the crime. Liss added the name of the custodian assigned to Lincoln Hall. Melly had phoned her with that information during the hour and a half drive home.
Unfortunately, viable candidates turned out to be few and far between. At the end of an hour of checking online and making phone calls, she’d learned that most of the faculty members weren’t even on campus for the summer session. Her history department list ended up pared down to the same few names—Caroline Halladay, Norma Leeds, and Willa Somener. Based on physical strength alone, none of them seemed likely killers.
That left the protestors. Liss wrote their names on a separate page: John Jones, Louis Amalfi, Barry Rowse, Alistair Gunn . . . and Gabe Treat. She circled Gabe’s name. It was the one that kept cropping up. He was Gunn’s grandson, Willa’s boyfriend, and a theater major. Coincidence? Maybe. But the fact that he was in that last category meant he might well have his own key to open the doors in Lincoln Hall.
Perhaps, she thought, Caroline Halladay was the one she ought to talk to. Among other questions, she could ask the professor just why she’d been so upset with Willa that she’d fired her. On the surface, Willa’s involvement with a young man whose grandfather was “the enemy” should not have been enough to cost the work-study student her job.
Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. Liss’s wedding was only a week away. She went over her bridal checklist one more time. “Final guest count to catering department at hotel,” she read aloud. “Check. Confirm details with florist . . . check. Write more thank-you notes.” Liss made a face. She’d do that later.
Satisfied all was in order, she went to work. To her surprise, Willa showed up an hour later. “Do you mind if I just hang out here?” she asked. “The campground is pretty boring.”
“Of course not, but where’s Gabe?”
“Oh, he has to drive back to Three Cities every day to check on his grandfather.” She trailed her fingers over a display of pewter figurines of bagpipers and Scottish dancers. “He’s very devoted to Mr. Gunn.”
Liss shooed Willa ahead of her into the stockroom so she could start processing orders. Willa pitched in to help, cutting off sections of bubble wrap as Liss put boxes together. “Have you known Gabe long?” Liss asked when they’d been working companionably for a while.
“Since we were freshmen.”
Willa burbled on for some time about the early days of her romance with Gabe while she and Liss boxed, taped, and applied labels. Liss didn’t really listen to the flow of words. She was biding her time, waiting to ask direct questions about the history department and about Gabe’s grandfather. She started small, inquiring into Willa’s duties as a work-study student.
“I ran a lot of errands. Dr. Halladay is doing most of the work of organizing the medieval conclave. It’s going to be spectacular, especially now.” Color flooded her face as she realized what she’d just said. “That didn’t come out right. Of course no one’s glad Dr. Palsgrave was murdered. All I mean is that without the reenactment of the battle, there wil
l be more focus on the displays and craft demonstrations.”
“What crafts?” Liss asked, more to keep the young woman talking than because she had any deep interest in the subject.
Eagerness shone in Willa’s eyes. “It’s really going to be remarkable. There is a tanner and a glove maker, a brewer, a cobbler, a goldsmith, a weaver, and even a blacksmith. And Dr. Halladay learned to do almost every one of those things herself. She’s very hands-on in her approach to studying history.”
“Who will help her prepare for the conclave now that you’re not there? Norma?”
Willa made a face. “Norma doesn’t like to get her hands dirty. I’m sure she’s hired someone else by now. Dr. Halladay is teaching two classes this semester. She wouldn’t have had any trouble finding a student willing to do grunt work in the hope of a better grade.”
“What is she teaching this summer?” Liss set another box on top of the pile ready to go to the post office.
“Medieval history.” Willa laughed. “What else? One course is just Introduction to the Middle Ages, but the other is Women of Power in the Medieval World. Dr. Palsgrave used to tell her it should be called Medieval Roots of the Kick-Ass Heroine.”
“I’m not much of a history buff,” Liss admitted after she’d responded with the chuckle Willa clearly expected from her, “but I think I’d be more likely to enroll in a class that had kick-ass in the title than otherwise.”
“Dr. Halladay says women have always been powerful. They just worked behind the scenes instead of center stage. And, of course, the history books always used to be written by men, so women’s contributions were neglected.”
“Not so much these days.”
“No,” Willa agreed. “Now a woman can do anything a man can.”
“Unless it requires brute strength.”
Willa didn’t say anything for a moment. “Women can be strong. They just have to work at it.” She sighed. “Not me, though. I’ve never been one for lifting weights. And those big workout machines are kind of scary looking, don’t you think?”
A customer came into the Emporium before Liss could answer. She sent Willa out to wait on the patron and was gratified when, a short time later, she heard the cha-ching of the cash register.
“Tourist,” Willa reported when she came back into the stockroom. “He bought a present for his wife. One of those thistle pins with the amethyst for the flower. Can I stay the rest of the day?”
“I’m not sure I have enough to keep you busy.”
“You don’t have to pay me,” Willa said. “I just don’t want to go back to the campground.”
Liss agreed, but she was puzzled. Since when did poverty-stricken college students offer to work for free? Even more remarkably, after she dropped the packages off at the post office, Willa offered to treat Liss to lunch at Patsy’s.
“You don’t have to do that,” Liss objected.
“But I want to. To thank you. And I already know that you sometimes close the shop from noon till twelve-thirty.”
“Yes, but—”
“You have to eat.”
Liss laughed and gave in.
At the coffee shop, Willa made a production out of selecting their booth. She didn’t want Liss to have the sun in her eyes, she said, so Willa ended up facing the window, which left Liss staring at the passage that led to the kitchen and restrooms.
For the duration of the meal, Willa chattered incessantly, although she neatly avoided answering any questions Liss asked that had to do with Gabe or his grandfather. Just what was going on here? Liss wondered.
It was nearly one in the afternoon before they finally left Patsy’s and headed back across the town square to Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. Willa was so tense she was vibrating with it.
“More online orders to pack up, right?” she asked as soon as they entered the shop. She tried to herd Liss toward the stockroom, not even giving her time to flip the CLOSED sign on the front door to OPEN.
“I was thinking I should redo the window display.” Liss dragged her feet. Her sense that something was off kilter grew stronger with every step.
At the entrance to the stockroom, Willa stopped and gestured for Liss to precede her. Liss frowned. The interior was black as pitch. Why wasn’t any daylight coming in through the small window in the exit door?
She glanced warily at Willa. The young woman stared back at her with wide and worried eyes. She looked like someone on the verge of a panic attack.
Liss started to retreat, suddenly certain that she should not set foot in the stockroom. To prevent her escape, Willa grabbed her arm and, with surprising strength, shoved her over the threshold. The second they were both inside, Willa closed the door behind them, leaving them in total darkness.
At that moment, neither a blow to the back of the head nor a stab wound to the heart would have surprised Liss. She drew breath to scream, but before she could utter a sound, someone flicked the light switch.
She blinked in the sudden blinding brightness, unable to believe her eyes. Then her ears rang as a dozen high-pitched feminine voices shouted in unison: “Surprise!”
In her absence from the building, the stockroom had been transformed. Colorful streamers were draped over the shelves. A banner that said BRIDES RULE hung from the ceiling. Gifts were piled high on Liss’s worktable, which had been shoved back against one wall. And all around her were her friends—Sherri, Zara, and Angie, among them—smiling and laughing and taking pictures. Her mother pushed through the crowd to give Liss a hug. Dan’s sister was right behind her, beaming. Then the door from the shop opened again and Patsy joined the party.
“Did we truly manage to surprise you?” Vi asked.
“You truly did.” Belatedly, she caught on. “You hired Willa to sandbag me!”
“I hear you had a bridal shower today,” Dan greeted her that evening.
“My mother and your sister are sneakier than I gave them credit for.” Liss slid into the passenger side of the pickup truck and buckled herself in.
She hadn’t bothered to reopen the shop after the shower guests left. Instead, she’d sent Willa on her way and spent the rest of the afternoon attempting to get in touch with Dr. Caroline Halladay. She’d had no luck. Either the woman wasn’t home or she was ignoring her messages.
Liss hoped Detective Franklin was doing better than she was at figuring out who had killed Professor Palsgrave. There had been nothing in the newspapers or on TV about his progress in the case. It had now been eight days since he’d found the sword.
Two days later, or so Liss had heard through the grapevine, officers had finally shown up in Moosetookalook to question the neighbors. No one in the village had caught so much as a glimpse of a state trooper since.
“I thought we’d drive out to the falls,” Dan said. “It should be a pretty sunset.”
“Sounds perfect,” Liss told him, and meant it. She inhaled deeply, then turned to look behind the seat. A picnic basket nestled there atop a brightly colored blanket. “When did you have time to do all this?”
“You forget. I’ve got an in with the head chef at The Spruces. She thinks I’m too skinny.”
“Fattening you up, is she?” She chuckled. Angeline Cloutier was also providing the food for their wedding reception. And the wedding cake. Liss and Dan had both been working hard to stay on her good side.
They ate cheese and crackers and opened a bottle of wine. Perfectly fried chicken with homemade coleslaw followed, along with biscuits still warm from the oven. By the time they topped off their meal with thick slices of chocolate cake, Liss felt relaxed and replete. All in all, she decided, it had been a lovely day.
They sat on the blanket, Dan’s arm around Liss’s shoulders, and watched the sun dip lower in the western sky over the waterfall. For the first time in weeks, Liss’s world seemed peaceful and serene.
She was still in an excellent mood when they drove away from the picnic area. Perhaps her mother and Dan were right when they advised her to focus on
the wedding—her big day, as Vi insisted on calling it. She wasn’t making any progress in discovering who had killed Professor Palsgrave anyway. And Mac kept insisting that she had no cause to worry on his account.
She just wished he’d follow his own advice. Despite the fact that her father had said, repeatedly, that everything would sort itself out, new lines had appeared in his face, literally overnight.
Despite her best intentions, Liss found herself fretting again. If she and Dan went to Scotland for three weeks, it wouldn’t be easy to get back home quickly in an emergency—like her father’s arrest for murder.
She glanced over at Dan. He was in silhouette as darkness fell in earnest. She didn’t have to broach the subject to know how he’d react to any suggestion that they postpone their honeymoon. He’d say the same thing he had about their wedding. Come hell or high water, they’d stick to the plan.
When they passed the road sign that told them Moosetookalook was five miles away, they also drove out of the “dead zone” they’d been in all evening. Liss burrowed in her purse for her cell phone and discovered she’d had two calls, both from her own land line. Each time, the call had gone to voice mail. The sound of a phone being slammed back into the cradle was the only audible message in the first. In the second, Vi’s voice uttered a single expletive before she hung up.
Liss frowned, puzzled. It wasn’t like her mother to swear. And her usual practice was to leave a long, detailed voice mail, especially when she was calling to nag her daughter to do something. Liss debated returning the call, but decided that whatever the trouble was, it could wait until they reached the house.
Then the phone attached to Dan’s dashboard started to ring. The small screen lit up to display Liss’s home phone number. Beginning to be alarmed, she hit the Speaker button.
“What is it, Mom?”
At first, she could barely understand what Vi was saying—or rather, screeching—into her ear. The words were liberally interspersed with sobs and curses. Then one sentence came through loud and clear, chilling her to the bone: “Your father’s been arrested for Lee Palsgrave’s murder.”
Bagpipes, Brides and Homicides (Liss Maccrimmon Scottish Mysteries) Page 13
