Kilt Dead (10 page)

They went in by way of the back gate, waved through
by one of the security guards hired for the event. Liss
drove straight to the booth Margaret Boyd had leased and
parked behind it. Sherri’s truck was already there.

Liss’s joy faded. The two women got out and stared at
each other. For a minute, Dan didn’t know what to expect.
Then they flew into each other’s arms, hugged, cried a little, and engaged in a murmured exchange he didn’t even
try to interpret. He stayed by the car, well out of the way,
until they broke apart.

While Liss dashed moisture from her face and blew
her nose, Sherri gave the tent a hard look. “Well. So. Set
up or tear down?”

Liss hesitated. “Ned thinks we should stay open. He
reminded me that the rule of thumb in my world is `the show
must go on.’ So we open. But it seems in bad taste to pretend nothing has happened”

“Most people won’t have heard a thing about it.” Sherri managed an encouraging smile. “They come from
all over northern New England. They aren’t interested in
local news”

“It won’t have made the Sunday papers, and this is the
day most people sleep in. Chances are, they’ll have missed
the early broadcasts” Dan wasn’t sure why he was backing Sherri up. Chances were also good that the news of
Mrs. Norris’s death had spread by other means.

“Besides, CNN rarely shows up this far north in Maine.
They think the state stops a mile north of Kennebunkport.”

It was an old chestnut, but Sherri’s straight-faced delivery sparked a flicker of amusement in Liss’s eyes and
persuaded her to give the go-ahead to start unloading the
stock she’d stored overnight in her car. When Dan’s part
in that was finished, Liss sent him off to buy scones.

“Terrible thing,” said the scone-maker, who baked them
fresh all day in a portable oven. Dan saw by the sign on
her tent that she came from nearby Waycross Springs. As
he’d expected, the Carrabassett County grapevine had been
working overtime.

“Yes,” he agreed, and placed his order.

“Heard Liss MacCrimmon was the one who found
Mrs. Norris.”

So much for the police keeping details quiet.

“She was here yesterday,” the scone-maker continued.
“Mrs. Norris. Saw her over there”-She nodded toward
the Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium tent “talking
to Liss.”

Turning, Dan realized that the vendors could watch a
good deal of what happened at the other booths, if they
weren’t too busy with their own customers to take notice.
The scone-maker might not know just who he was, but
she’d seen him arrive with Liss and help Liss and Sherri
open the booth. That made him a prime target to pump for
information.

“Had what looked to be a real intense conversation.”

Dan ignored the blatant invitation to gossip. He had no
idea what Liss and Mrs. Norris had talked about the previous day. Liss had mentioned seeing the older woman
but not that it had been at the Highland Games. He paid
for the scones, wished the baker a profitable day, and
headed back across the midway.

Liss fell on the flaky pastries with murmurs of delight.
“Comfort food!”

“Anything else I can do to help?”

“Ever work a cash register?” Two small ones had been
set up and money transferred to them from the cash box
Liss had insisted upon taking with her when she left the
shop the previous night.

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to learn.”

“Good” The warmth in Liss’s expression caught Dan
by surprise.

“Brace yourself,” Sherri warned as a distant fanfare
sounded. “The gates just opened”

Customers descended in droves. For the next hour,
Dan barely had time to draw breath. To his great relief, no
one mentioned Mrs. Norris’s death. He was just beginning to relax, in spite of the hectic pace and noisy crowd,
when Sherri made a strangled sound. A familiar figure in
blaze orange bore down on them-Ernie Willett, Sherri’s
father.

Willett shoved a woman customer out of his way without appearing to notice he’d done so. He glared at his
daughter. “Are you crazy, working for these people?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Lucky you’re still alive!”

“Mr. Willett, please-“

Willett cut Liss off with an impatient gesture. “You
stay out of this, missy. I’m talking to my girl here”

Bright red flags flew on Sherri’s cheeks as she faced
her father. “Why now, when you haven’t spoken to me for
almost three years? What do you really want?”

“Maybe I’m worried about you”

“Why?”

“Why? Why? I’ll tell you why! A woman was killed in
that shop. Could have been you”

Dan rounded the display table and caught Willett’s
arm, hoping to steer him away from the booth before his
bellowing attracted any more unwelcome attention. “Settle down, Willett. There’s no need to make a scene”

Willett jerked free, his gimlet-eyed gaze never leaving
Sherri’s face. “I hear it was Amanda Norris got herself
killed. Nosy old busybody. Not surprised somebody
bumped her off. But it could have been you, girl.” He
pointed one arthritis-riddled finger at her. “By rights, it
should have been Margaret Boyd”

Liss gasped.

Dan stopped trying to use reason. He seized Willett by
the shoulders and spun him around. “That’s enough! You
leave now or I call security to escort you off the fairgrounds.” He’d have attempted it on his own except for
the certainty that they’d end up in an undignified wrestling
match. Dan wasn’t even sure he could best the older man.
Willett had a wiry strength and the stubbornness of a
mule.

Liss had retrieved a cell phone from her purse. The
woman at the scone booth was already talking into hers.
No fool, even if he was hot tempered, Willett went still.
Cautiously, Dan let go of him.

Willett straightened his vest, thrust out his chin, and
stomped off. A smattering of customers watched him go,
returning their attention to the wares offered by Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium only after he’d disappeared into
the crowd.

“So much for most people not knowing what happened,” Liss murmured.

As the day wore on, Liss was too busy to worry about
the chaos awaiting her when she returned to Moosetookalook. Only stray concerns crept in. She had to make sure
Ned had called his mother. She had to find someplace to
store anything they didn’t sell today. She had to ask
someone when she would be allowed back into the apartment and shop. But overall, the business of selling kept
her mind off less pleasant topics.

During one lull it occurred to her to wonder why Detective LaVerdiere hadn’t asked her for an inventory of merchandise. She’d told him that as far as she knew nothing
was missing, but he hadn’t followed up on that angle. She
froze in the act of folding cashmere shawls a browser had
left in disarray. Maybe he hadn’t bothered because he really
did believe she was the one who’d killed Aunt Margaret’s
long-time neighbor.

You had no motive, Liss reminded herself, falling back
on her reading of detective stories for reassurance. Opportunity, yes. Means, yes. But no reason to harm Mrs. Norris.

She was surprised to find her hands clenching the soft
fabric, twisting it out of shape. They were not quite
steady as she smoothed the cashmere flat again and finished restoring the display to order.

She looked up to see Barbara, the woman who wanted
Aunt Margaret to make a kilt for her, sidle up to the booth.
There was an anxious expression on her face. Jason
Graye didn’t appear to be with her, but Liss had a feeling
he wasn’t far away.

“Did you bring the material?” Barbara asked.

Liss swallowed as her stomach knotted. She didn’t
want to remember the last time she’d seen that particular
bolt of cloth. “I’m sorry. We had some trouble at the store
yesterday while it was closed.”

“That’s too bad,” Barbara said, “but what does it have
to do with my kilt?”

“I’m not allowed to remove anything from the shop
until the police have finished investigating.” Liss wasn’t
certain what that involved, although she was pretty sure
television’s version of crime scene investigations was
flawed. Screenwriters almost never got the details right.

Barbara’s brow creased, and then alarm overspread her
features. “Just what kind of trouble did you have?”

Graye came up behind his lady friend, a smirk on his
face. “A murder, it seems. I’ve been hearing all about it.
It’s the talk of the fairgrounds, Barbara. I guess you won’t
be getting that kilt after all.”

Liss cleared her throat. “There need be no more than a
slight delay. After all, construction on the kilt couldn’t
have begun until my aunt’s return from Scotland in any
case”

She fought the urge to tell Jason Graye to take a hike.
She was determined to complete this sale. If Aunt Margaret needed money as badly as Dan seemed to think, the
least Liss could do for the cause was endure a few minutes with an obnoxious customer.

“How did she die?” Graye asked. “Shot? Strangled?
Stabbed?”

Repulsed by the avid curiosity in his eyes, Liss took a
step away from him. She realized she had no idea what to
say. He already knew it was murder. LaVerdiere hadn’t
specifically ordered her not to discuss what had happened. But Liss had no wish to dwell on the horrible discovery she’d made in the stockroom. She didn’t even
want to think about what she’d seen, let alone describe it.

“Talk to Detective LaVerdiere.” Dan came up beside
Liss, six feet two inches of protective male. “He’s the one
in charge of the case”

Liss clenched her fists at her sides. She didn’t need
Dan rushing to the rescue. She was perfectly capable of
handling a boor like Jason Graye.

Let it go, she warned herself. Dan’s one of the good guys. He’d stepped in earlier, too, when Ernie Willett’s diatribe had threatened to disrupt things.

Liss squared her shoulders and met Graye’s sneer with
a cold stare. “What you don’t seem to realize is that the
woman who died was someone I’ve known all my life.
We are all deeply upset by her loss.”

“Yeah. I can see that. So upset that you rushed right
out here to open up for business.”

Stricken, Liss had difficulty keeping her voice level.
“We had a commitment to keep, Mr. Graye” And an
obligation to the living, as Ned had said.

“Come on, Jase” Barbara tugged at his sleeve. “I want
to go home”

“Yeah, yeah.” As he had the previous day, he let her
lead him away, but he was no happier about it than he had
been the first time.

Liss breathed a sigh of relief when the two of them
had gone, but the respite didn’t last long. Another customer had overheard the entire exchange.

“Murder?” He gulped audibly, goggling at Liss with a
look of alarm on his face.

Liss stared back, thinking he looked familiar. Then she
remembered. He’d debated a long time over the purchase
he’d made yesterday, using his indecision as an excuse to
flirt with Sherri. She was probably the sole reason he’d
come back today.

“Is there something I, or my assistant, can show you?”
Liss asked.

“Naw. I just, uh never mind.” And he took off, almost running.

Dan watched him go, shaking his head. “Guess we’ve
lost that sale.”

She forced a smile. There were other customers waiting. “No big deal. I just remembered what he bought when
he was here the last time. It was a bumper sticker, the
least expensive item in the entire inventory.”

By the time the Highland Games closed to the stirring
sounds of the massed bands, there was only enough merchandise left to fill the back of Liss’s car. She felt a pleasant glow of satisfaction at the success of the day.

“Happy with the receipts?” Dan asked as they headed
for Moosetookalook.

“Astonished would be more like it. Except for the
kilts, just about everything sold.” Of all the shawls and
skirts and ties, the pins and figurines, only a few of each
item remained. They’d unloaded all the refrigerator magnets and most of the bumper stickers and even sold a couple of the “Learn to Play the Bagpipe” kits that included
practice chanters and instruction books.