Bagpipes, Brides and Homicides (Liss Maccrimmon Scottish Mysteries)

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  But the first person she wanted to interview was her father. He’d entered Lincoln Hall through the front door. He must have noticed both the picket line and Gabe Treat. What else had he seen? Who else?

  She started in on him the moment they returned to her car for the drive home. For once, he didn’t object to being grilled, although he did insist she swing through the drive-up window of his favorite fast-food restaurant first. Fortified with a burger and fries, he took her step-by-step through his ill-fated attempt to meet with A. Leon Palsgrave.

  “I was feeling pretty foolish by the time I left that classroom,” he admitted, after he’d recounted the details she’d already heard elsewhere. “And I was more than a little irritated. I’d driven all the way to Three Cities to apologize—to please your mother—and then I couldn’t find anyone to apologize to. I decided enough was enough and I headed home. I was completely wrapped up in my own thoughts. I didn’t pay any attention to my surroundings before or after I left that empty classroom.”

  “You must have noticed the demonstrators.” She took one hand off the wheel long enough to steal a few French fries.

  When he didn’t answer, she slanted a glance his way, taking note of the blank expression on his face. He had no idea what she was talking about.

  “How did you get from the professor’s office to the classroom?”

  “There’s a paved walkway between buildings. Goes uphill.”

  “And you went back the same way, to that lower parking lot?”

  “Right.” He took another bite of his burger.

  Liss sighed. He hadn’t gone near the street. Unless he’d looked that way as he’d entered Lincoln Hall, he wouldn’t have noticed the picket line. There had only been four demonstrators. Even if they’d been chanting protest slogans, Mac might not have paid them any attention.

  It was equally possible that none of them had noticed him.

  “Were there any students around?” she asked.

  Since he was fishing in the take-out bag for napkins, his voice was muffled. “Sorry, Liss. No idea. I really wish I’d known I was going to need an alibi. I’m sure I’d have managed to call attention to myself in some way. Maybe danced the tango in the middle of the quad.”

  She appreciated the dry humor, even while she lamented the fact that he had neither an alibi nor any details to add to what she already knew.

  It was still early afternoon when they arrived back in Moosetookalook, but Liss felt utterly drained. If she hadn’t had so much to do, she’d have considered taking a nap. Her father, too, appeared to be exhausted, but her mother, who came out onto the porch to greet them, was bubbling over with energy.

  “Liss, dear,” she announced in a cheerful voice, her smile blindingly bright, “Angeline Cloutier needs you to run out to the hotel and approve the final design on the wedding cake.”

  “Not now, Mom. It can wait.”

  Liss was in no mood to deal with wedding chores. And that begged the real question—how could she even think about getting married when her father might really be arrested at any moment? Mr. Carrier had confirmed what Pete had told them about bail. If the charge was murder, there would be no getting out of jail before the trial.

  “No,” Vi said in the firm mother voice Liss remembered from her childhood. “It can not wait. She’s about to start baking!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Talking to Angeline Cloutier, head chef at The Spruces, was the last thing Liss felt like doing, but in the end she gave in to her mother’s demands. A glance at her father reminded her that her parents needed time together without their daughter around. Once she’d approved the cake design, however—something she’d already done once—she planned to head straight home.

  She started to feel more upbeat as soon as she stepped out of the car in the hotel parking lot and was greeted by the soothing scent of newly mown grass. The hotel kitchen smelled even better. Angeline had her sampling of the day’s special as she trotted out the carefully drawn rendering of what she planned to bake and decorate. She’d added a few new flourishes, but Liss liked them. They shook hands on it and Liss left with the intention of making a quick getaway.

  Caroline Halladay waltzed into the lobby at The Spruces just as Liss was passing through.

  “I’m looking for Margaret Boyd,” Professor Halladay told the desk clerk. “It’s about the coming weekend’s festivities.”

  “The highland games or the wedding?” Trisha Lynd asked. She’d been an intern at the hotel the previous year and had been taken on as a full-time employee at the beginning of the summer.

  “What wedding?” Caroline sounded surprised.

  “Mine.” Liss came up behind her.

  She hesitated a moment, wondering if Caroline would make the connection between the MacCrimmons she’d met—Liss and Vi—and the MacCrimmon who’d had an appointment with Leon Palsgrave on the day he was murdered. When no sign of distress showed on the older woman’s plump features, Liss seized the opportunity to pump the history professor for information.

  “I’ll show you to Ms. Boyd’s office if you like.” Liss knew for a fact that her aunt was not there. Margaret had gone to Augusta for a hearing held by the state tourism board.

  In contrast to Joe Ruskin’s office, Margaret’s was furnished with comfort in mind. The small room was painted a pretty pale green and three Carrabassett County landscapes, done in pen and ink by local artists, decorated the walls. Liss offered coffee or tea and then settled Caroline on a love seat upholstered in a bright floral pattern while she prepared the latter. As Caroline chattered about the arrangements for the Medieval Scottish Conclave and the half-dozen details that she wanted to confirm with Margaret, Liss used the small microwave behind Margaret’s desk to heat water and pour it into the pretty Royal Doulton teapot her aunt liked to use.

  “I suppose canceling the reenactment leaves a big hole in the program,” Liss said in the most sympathetic tone of voice she could manage.

  She put the tea tray on a glass-topped coffee table. Snagging a dainty wooden chair, she seated herself facing the love seat. She did not want the barrier of the desk between them.

  “Personally, I think leaving it out is an improvement. The people who come to see our events and displays won’t be distracted by those dreadful picket lines and can properly appreciate the richness of the medieval experience.”

  Caroline fluffed her short, curly, ash blond hair before reaching for the teapot. Liss found this evidence of vanity incongruous in a woman who so obviously took no care with the rest of her appearance. As had been the case every other time Liss had seen her, she wore bulky, shapeless clothing that only emphasized her lack of height and excess of pounds.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Liss began, “I’m curious about something. You see, I’ve hired your former work-study student to help out at my booth at the highland games. I was wondering why you fired her. Her work record seems sound enough.”

  Not that she’d checked it before she offered Willa a job, although she had contacted the bookstore Willa had worked in since then. Initially, Liss had gone with her gut feeling about the young woman. She hoped she wasn’t about to regret it.

  Caroline set the teapot back down and took a moment to gather herself. “I suppose I may have overreacted,” she admitted, “but I value loyalty above all else and when I learned, from you, that Willa had been fraternizing with the enemy . . . well, I was very upset, to say the least.”

  “Surely it isn’t Willa’s fault that Gabe Treat is the grandson of one of the demonstrators.”

  “Of course not.” Caroline’s bright blue eyes met Liss’s, her gaze direct and her expression uncompromising. “It’s that she wasn’t honest with me about it.”

  “Perhaps she didn’t think her personal life was relevant.”

  Liss took a sip of the tea Caroline had poured for her. She quickly put the cup down again. She wasn’t much of a tea drinker and from the bitter taste she suspected that she hadn’t brewed a ver
y satisfactory pot of the stuff.

  “You obviously knew Willa and Gabe were an item, even if you didn’t know Alistair Gunn was his grandfather. What else do you know about Gabe Treat? He seems a nice enough young man to me.”

  “Spoiled,” was Caroline’s opinion. She sampled the tea and grimaced, but she continued to sip as she talked. “He’s a rich boy. We get a lot of those at Anisetab College. He’s majoring in theater, of all things. I ask you, what kind of job is he going to get after graduation with that training?”

  “Learning to be at ease before a large group of people is always useful.”

  Caroline barked a laugh. “Well, yes. That’s true enough. And I have to admit that I took a few speech and acting classes myself as an undergraduate. I was pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.”

  “If Gabe is all that rich, I don’t suppose he has to worry about whether or not he finds a job.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Most people, even the wealthy, are expected to do something with their lives.”

  “Does he do something at the college?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Willa had a work-study job. I just wondered—”

  “No idea.” Caroline cut her off before she could complete the question.

  “I believe he spent time in Lincoln Hall on occasion. I understand theater students still use that stage.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Why this sudden interest in Gabe Treat?”

  “Idle curiosity.”

  Liss suspected that Caroline saw right through her lie, but she didn’t let that stop her from steering the conversation back to the various groups picketing the campus. Unfortunately, the professor didn’t seem to know anything about any of them, either. Except for Alistair Gunn, she didn’t even know their names.

  “I met Gunn because he came to my office once. He berated me in colorful terms for not doing more to rein in Professor Palsgrave. He was a fine one to talk! Gunn’s an ancestor worshipper. You know the sort—my however-many-greats grandfather could do no wrong. Crackpots, the lot of them!”

  She replaced her empty cup in its saucer with a clatter of china and glanced impatiently at her watch. “Where is Ms. Boyd? I can’t wait around for her all day. Perhaps I’d better speak to your mother instead. She is still our liaison with the hotel, isn’t she? There seems to be some confusion about that. When I phoned her yesterday, she said I was calling at a bad time and referred me to Ms. Boyd.”

  “Yesterday was Sunday,” Liss pointed out, mentally giving her mother points for putting family first.

  Caroline lifted her eyebrows, as if to say, “So what?”

  How much, Liss wondered, should she tell this woman? Enough, she decided, to solicit answers to her questions.

  “There was a man looking for Dr. Palsgrave on the day he was murdered. Tall, with salt-and-pepper hair. Did you see him?”

  “Yes, of course. I told the police I had.” She frowned. “Did they arrest him? I haven’t been keeping up with the news. I’ve been too busy with the conclave.”

  “That man is my father, and I’m afraid the timing of his visit has made him a suspect.”

  Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “That and the fact that Lee was killed with a sword from your display window?”

  The woman was no fool. Liss warned herself that she’d be wise not to underestimate Caroline Halladay.

  “That’s right. Of course, he didn’t kill anyone. All the evidence against him is purely circumstantial. But here’s the troubling thing—later that same day, Dad also visited the very classroom where Dr. Palsgrave was murdered.”

  Caroline pursed her lips. “I am sorry to hear that. It makes his situation difficult, I’m sure. But you can’t blame me. How was I to know?”

  “Excuse me?” Liss blinked in confusion. “Why would I blame you?”

  “Because I’m the one who suggested he try looking for Lee in his classroom,” Caroline said. “Lee’s seminar was meeting in that room and Lee had a habit of staying put to talk to individual students who wanted conferences with him, rather than make the trek back to his office.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t say he was lazy, but he didn’t like to walk farther than he had to. Of course, we found out later that he’d dismissed his students early. Heaven alone knows why.”

  So far, Caroline had contributed nothing new to Liss’s knowledge of that day. “Why did you send my father to the classroom if you thought he’d be interrupting Professor Palsgrave’s seminar?” she asked, probing blindly.

  Caroline shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? As I recall, it was nearly eleven by then, so the class should have been almost over. And Norma—she’s our department secretary—did say your father had an appointment.” She toyed with her empty teacup. “I imagine I thought that he’d be willing to wait around outside the classroom for ten or fifteen minutes in order to speak with Lee after the students left. It never occurred to me that he had anything violent in mind.”

  “He didn’t,” Liss said through clenched teeth. “And when he got to the classroom, it was empty.”

  “So he’s told you. And I understand that you’d believe your own father. But wasn’t he the same man who quarreled with Dr. Palsgrave the week before he was killed? I’m sure Norma told me that he was.” Caroline calmly poured herself more tea. Looking thoughtful, she added, “Even if I’d known that then, I suppose I’d have done the same. After all, why would I have thought he meant Lee any harm?”

  Speaking clearly and distinctly, Liss said, “My father did not harm anyone.”

  “Someone did.” She sipped.

  Liss reined in her temper with an effort. Finger by finger, she uncurled the fist she hadn’t been aware of clenching. Her defensive posture eased, but there was still tension in her voice.

  “May I ask what you did after you sent my father to Professor Palsgrave’s classroom?”

  The corners of Caroline’s mouth kicked up in a wry smile. “Are you asking for my alibi?”

  “I suppose I am.” Liss smiled back, but there was no warmth in it.

  Caroline shrugged. “Very well. I spent the next half hour meditating. You can ask Norma to verify that I regularly do so and that I did so then. She was at her desk the whole time. She’d have seen me if I’d left my office.”

  “How do you know she was there? If you were meditating behind a closed door, Norma could have left and come back again and you’d never have missed her.”

  “True enough,” Caroline conceded, “but I doubt that she did. In any case, she was there at the end of a half hour’s time. And Willa had just arrived. At that point, I went to Lee’s office. I needed to talk to him about the conclave. When I realized he hadn’t yet returned from his seminar, I sent Willa to light a fire under him.”

  “So, it was what—eleven-thirty by then?” Liss angled herself forward so that she could see Caroline’s face more clearly, but the older woman’s expression was as bland and unrevealing as a bowl of oatmeal.

  “My best guess is that it was no more than quarter past the hour.”

  “Then when you saw my father, it would have been around ten-thirty?”

  “Closer to quarter to eleven. As I said, I meditate in half-hour increments.”

  “Dr. Palsgrave must have returned to his classroom within minutes of my father’s departure,” Liss mused aloud. “And the killer must have found him there almost immediately after that. But where was Palsgrave when my father was looking for him?”

  “Perhaps he’d gone to the men’s room?” Caroline looked mildly amused by the notion.

  “What a pity he didn’t just go straight back to his office after he dismissed his students. Professor Palsgrave might still be alive if—”

  “Perhaps he was trying to avoid his appointment with your father,” Caroline interrupted. She glanced pointedly at her watch and rose. “I can’t wait any longer for Ms. Boyd. Please have her phone me as soon as she returns.”

  Liss also stood. She walked Caroline to the door, all too well
aware that the other woman’s patience with her probing had been exhausted. She was therefore surprised when Caroline paused on the brink of leaving the room to make a comment that was both unsolicited and unexpected.

  “Lee Palsgrave was fortunate his killer attacked him in his classroom and not in the men’s room.” Her face crinkled with amusement. “Bad enough to be hacked to death, but think of how much more ignominious it would have been if he’d been found dead in what those living in the Middle Ages would have called the pissing place.”

  Momentarily speechless, Liss stared after her. She was still shaking her head as she closed the office door and started to clear away the tea things.

  “You didn’t like him much, did you, Dr. Halladay?” she murmured.

  Liss looked with real longing at the pot of coffee her aunt had brewed that morning. It was far from fresh, either in smell or appearance, but it was hot. She picked up an empty mug, then put it down again. The last thing she needed was more caffeine. Her mind was working perfectly well without the added jolt.

  Thought Number One was that although Caroline Halladay might not have liked her department head, she had an excellent alibi for the time of the murder. Lacking details, Liss had yet to finish her time line for the events of that morning, but she was fairly certain Professor Halladay needed to have been in two places at once to have killed Professor Palsgrave. Willa’s involvement also argued against Caroline as a suspect. Surely, if Caroline had killed Palsgrave, she’d never have sent her work-study student looking for him, setting Willa up to make a gruesome discovery. Besides, Willa would surely have noticed it if Caroline had been spattered with blood.

  Professor Halladay was definitely out of the running, Liss decided. Even if she hadn’t had an alibi, there was still the matter of the strength one needed to swing a broadsword. Admittedly, Liss had never seen Caroline in anything but loose, shapeless clothing. She couldn’t say for certain what kind of physical shape the professor was in, but it seemed far more likely that her bulky garments had been chosen to hide rolls of fat rather than well-toned muscles.