Nola nervously cleared her throat. She was still avoiding eye contact, not just with Stu but with everyone. Her voice was barely audible, a far cry from the self-confident woman Liss had seen earlier on the podium. Two or three people had to lean forward in order to catch what Nola said. One of the jewelry store owners surreptitiously turned up the volume on her hearing aid.
“Jane Nedlinger can put such a negative spin on what she writes that no one will ever want to come here again,” Nola said. “She's petty and vindictive and she positively
enjoys
ruining people's careers.” She twisted her fingers in the bottom of her T-shirt, then looked up at last. “I've been sitting here thinking about it. I don't think she ever has a good word to say about anything.”
She was such a study in misery that Liss could only assume she was blaming herself for bringing both the conference and Moosetookalook to Jane Nedlinger's attention.
“Then why do people read her blog?” Joe Ruskin sounded confused.
He was an older version of his son, with a distinguished hint of gray at the temples. Liss hated to see him looking so worried. He'd had to weather far too many ups and downs since the hotel opened. She realized, with a painful lurch of her heart, that he seemed to have aged ten years in the last ten months.
Bitterness made Nola's voice stronger. “For the same reason some people watch reality shows. They like to feel superior. And Jane's clever with words. I'll give her that much. Some people find her kind of venom entertaining. I did myself until she turned it on me.”
“The biggest problem is that blogs reach everywhere,” Liss said. “This won't be just a local story.”
“Still sounds like a tempest in a teapot to me,” Betsy Twining cut in. “It's only been, what? Three hours since you first met this woman? Don't you think you could have slept on the problem before going to Code Red?” Like Patsy, Betsy had to be up at the crack of dawn.
“She threatened to link Liss and, by extension, all of Moosetookalook to a series of four murders over the last two years,” Dan pointed out. “That's a threat that's hard to take lightly.”
“Are you
sure
she has all that much influence?” Patsy fought a yawn, lost, and apologized for being so sleepy. “Past my bedtime,” she mumbled.
“I've never even heard of her,” Angie chimed in.
There was an immediate chorus of “me neithers.”
“Maybe
we
haven't, but folks from away, the ones we want to attract here as tourists, apparently
do
read her blog.”
“If you're right about that,” Stu said, looking morose, “then we're already dead.”
“Who's dead?” a new voice asked. “Does someone need my services?”
Stu gave a derisive snort. “Like Preston's Mortuary is hurting for business!”
“Join the party, Doug,” Liss invited as the newcomer stepped into her living room. In addition to being the local mortician, he was also one of the village selectman. Even though he was often prickly to deal with, Liss was glad he'd been able to attend the meeting.
The term “gentleman” might have been invented just for Doug. Liss didn't think she'd ever seen him wearing anything less formal than a suit and tie. He had an upright carriage and a refined manner that came very close to straying over the line into supercilious. How he'd produced a son like young Frank, best described as careless and slovenly, was a mystery no one in Moosetookalook had been able to solve.
Doug was yet another of the longtime village residents who had seemed so ancient to Liss when she was growing up. She'd been surprised to realize, when she returned to the village as an adult, that he was the same age as Aunt Margaret. They'd gone to high school together. The fact that he'd married a woman more than twenty years his junior, back when Liss herself had been in junior high, had once struck her as creepy. Now she supposed, when she thought about it at all, that Doug would have considerable appeal to women who liked the suave, reserved type.
Doug glanced around the room, looking for an empty chair. He froze when he caught sight of Nola. “Well, as I live and breathe. Nola Ventress.”
“Hello, Doug.” Nola was back to whispering.
Liss frowned. Was it her imagination, or had there been a distinct rise in tension in the air? Nola was actually trembling. While Dan recapped the situation for Doug's benefit, Liss studied the faces of those gathered in her living room. Two of them seemed more alert. Stu had an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. Aunt Margaret looked more worried than ever.
“What does this woman look like?” Doug asked.
Liss described Jane, emphasizing her size and her all-gray ensemble. She'd have stood out in downtown Moosetookalook, and Liss wasn't surprised when Betsy spoke up.
“I think I saw her late this morning,” the beautician said. “She was going into the library just as I was coming out.”
Doing her research, Liss thought. And soaking up gossip. Dolores Mayfield, the town librarian, would have been happy to dish the dirt, even with a stranger.
“Sounds to me as if you and Nola have an irrational fear of this Nedlinger woman's power, Liss,” Doug said. He'd dragged the combination stool and stepladder that Dan had custom-built for Liss out of the kitchen to perch on. “I'm sure there's no cause for alarm.”
“I disagree,” Stu said. “She's a real threat. One we need to deal with. Let's face it, Moosetookalook doesn't need any more bad publicity.”
Liss wished she could take more satisfaction from Stu's change of heart, but she suspected he'd come down on the opposite side from Doug just to spite the other man. They'd never gotten along all that well.
“And exactly how do you propose that we do that?” Doug sounded bored.
“We'll think of something.” Stu swiveled on the sofa so that he could look at each of the other MSBA members in turn, but no one had any solution to suggest.
Patsy produced a jaw-popping yawn. “Maybe we should sleep on it.”
“Maybe we should stay right here and brainstorm until we come up with a workable solution,” Stu shot back. “Plug away at it all night if we have to. Unless this town doesn't mean as much to the rest of you as it does to me.”
Doug produced a clean white handkerchief from his breast pocket, took off his glasses, polished them, and replaced the handkerchief before he responded to Stu's taunt. “I, for one, can't think of any way to stop the woman from posting to her blog. If she does, we'll just have to live with the fallout.”
“We could threaten to sue her if she writes about us,” Stu shot back.
“What good will a threat do?” The normally amiable Angie sounded irritated. “It won't stop her. And once the damage is done, there's no point in taking her to court. The burden of proof is on us. By the time we collect any solid figures, we'll already be hurting financially. We won't have the spare cash to shell out for a lawyer.”
“So we just give up and let her write any damned thing she wants?” Stu was no longer just yanking Doug's chain. Genuine outrage turned his face an ugly red. “No way!”
They debated the issue for another hour. Everyone was in agreement that they hoped to profit from the mystery conference and others like it. There was a general consensus that if Jane Nedlinger could be persuaded not to write a blog post that mentioned Liss, murder, and Moosetookalook in the same piece, she should be. But no one had a workable plan to convince the blogger to alter her plans.
Individual MSBA members gave up one by one and drifted away, heading home to their beds. Finally only Stu, Doug, Nola, Dan, and Liss remained. Nothing had been resolved.
Liss sighed and turned to Nola. “Give me a minute to let the cats up from the cellar and I'll drive you back to the hotel.”
“No need for you to bother, Liss,” Stu Burroughs cut in. “I can take her.”
Nola's cheeks flared pink. “I don't think that's a good idea.”
“Oh, come on, Nola. I promise not to try to lure you into the woods to have my wicked way with you.” He made obnoxious little kissing noises at her, causing her color to deepen into red.
“Leave her alone, Stu,” Doug interrupted. “You always did have a sick sense of humor.” He took Nola's hand. She tried to pull free, but his grip was too tight. “You must allow me to see you back to The Spruces. I'm headed that way anyhow.”
“You're offering the lady a ride in the hearse?” Stu gave a bleat of laughter.
“I'll be driving my personal vehicle,” Doug said in a voice as cold as embalming fluid. “That's a Porsche,” he added for Nola's benefit.
If he expected her to be impressed, he was doomed to disappointment. She just looked more rattled. “I don't think that's a good idea, either.” She sent a desperate look Liss's way.
“Back off, both of you,” Liss told them.
But Doug did not release his grip on Nola's hand. If anything, he tightened his hold, making her wince. “I was so looking forward to reminiscing,” he said, “and to telling Nola all about my lovely wife and our fine, upstanding son.”
Liss was sorely tempted to tell Doug, then and there, just how carelessly young Frank had handled Lenny Peet's body, but she knew this was not the right moment. “It's up to you, Nola,” she said instead.
To Liss's surprise, Nola pulled herself together. She tugged her hand free and poked one finger into Doug's chest. “Since you say you're going my way anyhow, I'll accept a lift from you, but I refuse to look at baby pictures.”
Then, while Doug pulled on the thin leather driving gloves he wore year-round, claiming his hands were always cold, Nola turned on Stu.
“As for you, Stu Burroughs, since you've agreed to call the charity auction, I will talk to you tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I've no interest in your company. You'll have to excuse both of them,” she added to Liss, sending an apologetic look her way. “They always did snap at each other like a couple of pit bulls.”
Wearing a disgruntled expression on his face, Stu watched Nola and Doug leave together. When he glanced Liss's way again, he had the grace to look embarrassed. “I guess I got a little out of line. Sorry.”
She patted him on the shoulder, grinning. “No more than usual, Stu.”
He chuckled, but sobered again instantly. “About this Nedlinger womanâdon't you worry your pretty little head about her. We'll figure something out. Stands to reason there's some way to scotch her story.”
Chapter Five
W
hen Dan released Liss's two cats from their prison, he got a snarl from Lumpkin for his trouble.
“You're welcome,” he said, and reached down to stroke Glenora. Friendlier than her “brother,” she was stropping his ankles in appreciation.
Lumpkin headed for his food bowl. When he found it was empty, he sent an indignant look over his shoulder. Dan obligingly poured out some kibble. After a few more hasty preparations, he returned to the living room. “Alone at last,” he said when the door closed behind Stu Burroughs.
Liss turned, smiling. “Not quite.” She nodded toward Lumpkin, who had followed Dan into the room.
She scratched the big cat behind the ears, then tried to pet his broad, furry head. She jerked and cried out when he nipped the tip of one finger.
“So much for the theory that cats have a calming effect.” Dan took her hand and inspected the indentations Lumpkin's teeth had made. Lucky for Lumpkin there was little damage. Dan had made his share of excuses for the cat in the past, but he drew the line at serious injury to Liss's person. “Apparently he's not in the mood to soothe.”
“Being locked up makes him cranky.”
“I wonder how he'd like living at the animal shelter?”
“Bite your tongue!”
If Liss could forgive the cat, Dan could do no less. “At least he didn't break the skin,” he murmured as he kissed it better. Then, slinging one arm around Liss's shoulders, he steered her into the kitchen. He'd found a bottle of her favorite white wine in the refrigerator and had already poured her a glass.
“This will knock me out,” she warned, but she accepted the offering and sipped.
“You could use a good night's sleep.” Dan opened the beer he'd extracted for himself and took a long pull from the bottle. For a few minutes, they enjoyed a companionable silence. Then Dan gestured toward the answering machine attached to the kitchen phone. “You've got a message waiting.”
“I know. I checked the caller I.D. when I first came home from the hotel. The message is from my mother. I'm ignoring it.”
Dan frowned. “Are you sure you want to do that? What if your folks have some kind of emergency?”
“If that were the case, there would be more than one message waiting. And Mom would have called Aunt Margaret and the hotel as well as here. Trust me, whatever she wants, it can wait.”
In Dan's world, you didn't ignore family. He regarded her with a steady, uncompromising stare until she relented.
“Okay, okay. But don't say I didn't warn you.” She depressed the Play button, and her mother's cheerful voice emerged from the speaker as clearly as if she was in the room with them.
“Hi, sweetie,” Violet MacCrimmon said. “I just had the most brilliant idea for your wedding. But firstâwhat did Dan say when you told him you wanted to get married at the Western Maine Highland Games?”
Dan choked on a swallow of beer.
What?
“It will make things so much easier to have the ceremony there,” Violet went on, “since the wedding and the games are scheduled for the same weekend. And it will be more fun for everyone, too.”
“When were you going to mention that little detail?” Dan asked.
Liss shushed him, but she had a guilty look on her face.
The message played on.
“Anyway, here's my idea,” Violet said. “I've just found out that a medieval Scottish reenactment group is signed up to attend the games this year.” She paused to let that nugget of information sink in.
Dan set his beer on the counter. His mind reeled. Get married at the area's annual Scottish festival? That was a far cry from his naïve assumption that they'd tie the knot in a small, quiet ceremony at the little nondenominational church located just two blocks away on Lowe Street.
Liss's mother's voice grew increasingly chipper as the message continued. “I've mailed you a copy of
Renaissance Magazine
's bridal issue. It's full of the most gorgeous gowns. Any one of them would look wonderful on you, especially since all the men in the wedding party will be wearing traditional dress. Oh, I just can't wait! Call me when you get a chance. Love you. Bye.”
The click of the disconnect sounded abnormally loud in the quiet kitchen.
Dan cleared his throat. “I thought we were getting married in a church.”
“Mom had a better idea.”
“It's
our
wedding.”
“Well, yes, but it's important to my mother, too. As she keeps pointing out, I'm her only child. And the parents of the bride traditionally pay for the wedding.”
“We can afford the cost of our own damn wedding!”
“Not unless we elope. You have no idea how expensiveâ”
“I'm not a pauper!” But money was always tight and he'd been brought up to be frugal. “Elope?” He hoped he didn't sound too eager.
Liss ran her fingers lightly over his cheek. “I know. I'm tempted, too. But Mom and Dad really want to do this for us. The MacCrimmons are big on tradition. It would break their hearts if we deprived them of the opportunity to go all out for the occasion.”
“Tradition, huh?” Funny how that word kept cropping up. His eyes narrowed. “Would that be
Scottish
tradition?”
Liss flashed him a grin. “Bagpipes sound much better outdoors. Inside a church, they're really much too loud.”
Dan groaned. “I hate bagpipe music.”
“But you love me. And it doesn't make all that much sense for us to get married in a church anyway. Neither one of us attends services regularly.”
“Is it okay if I wear earplugs?”
She laughed, as if she thoughtâor hopedâthat he was joking. “Not a good idea. You might not be able to hear the vows. You could agree to anything.”
Beneath the teasing words, Dan heard her anxiety. He could give her this, he told himself. If bagpipe music and getting married at the Scottish festival were that important to her and her folks, how could he deny her?
He caught her hand in his, turning it so he could plant what he hoped she'd see as a romantic kiss on the backs of her knuckles. “It doesn't matter to me where we get married, as long as it's legal.”
“Oh, it will be.”
“Anything else I should know about?” he asked.
“Let me get my list.”
Of course there was a list, he thought. Liss was a habitual list maker. He followed her back into the living room and watched while she fished this one out of the drawer in the end table. When they were settled on the sofa together, she handed over a 5x8 yellow lined tablet. At the top of the first page she'd written “Three Months Before.”
“Complete guest list,” he read aloud. “Order wedding rings. Done and done.” The next few items were equally nonthreatening, ranging from ordering the wedding cake to booking rooms for out-of-town guests at The Spruces. Then he hit number thirteen and he felt a sinking sensation in his gut. “Select Scottish formalwear for groom and ushers? Okay. I'll bite. What exactly does
Scottish
formalwear consist of?”
Liss took a last sip of her wine and set the glass on the end table. “I've been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“It means a kilt, doesn't it?”
She nodded. “Traditional Scottish wedding,” she reminded him.
“Liss, I don'tâ”
“It's no big deal. I know for a fact that you're not bowlegged or knock-kneed and I doubt your brother Sam is, either. And I've already seen how good Pete Campbell looks in a kilt.” Sherri's husband regularly competed in athletic contests at the highland games.
Dan chose his words carefully. “I guess I'm okay with getting married at the Western Maine Highland Games, and I promise I won't wear earplugs to block out the screechingâ”
“Skirling,” she corrected him. “Bagpipes skirl.”
“I won't wear earplugs,” he repeated, “but you'll have to be the one to compromise on what I wear.” He took both her hands in his. “I love you, Liss MacCrimmon, but there is no way in hell that you are getting me into a skirt.”
Liss sighed. “I knew I didn't want to listen to Mom's phone message tonight.”
Dan saw an out and grabbed it like a lifeline. “We're both too tired to get into all this now. Let's leave any discussion about the wedding until after the weekend, okay?”
Dan figured time was on his side. Although Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium sold kilts off the rack, Liss undoubtedly wanted something custom-made for him to wear at their wedding. A kilt she'd expect him to wear to other Scottish events. He repressed a shudder. If he could just stall her long enough to make ordering such a kilt impossible, maybe he'd have a shot at convincing her that a tux was the better option.
“You're right,” Liss agreed. “I've got too many other things on my mind just now. We'll let the wedding ride for the next couple of days.”
“Show me your list of other things. Maybe there's something I can help with there.”
She tapped her forehead. “That one is all up here. I haven't had time to write anything down.”
“First item?”
“Stop blog.”
“Moving right along... .”
His grimace coaxed a chuckle out of her. “Let's see. Ohâtalk to Doug about his son.” She described what she'd witnessed that morning.
“You can't do that tonight,” Dan said. “Next?”
“Open mail and look at bridal gowns.” She gestured toward the hall table where she'd tossed bills, letters, and a bulky mailer that was clearly the magazine her mother had mentioned.
“Nope. That's wedding related. It's on hold until after the weekend.”
“Then that leaves just three items: work in the dealers' room; attend conference events; and find a good home for Lenny Peet's dog.”
Dan shook his head over the number and variety of her tasks, but he couldn't help but smile at the last item. “I guess I was right,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he left the sofa and headed for the door. “You definitely need a good night's sleep.”
“You're going home?”
Her obvious disappointment pleased Dan no end. He had a hard time keeping his feet moving away from her. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day for me, too.” He came back long enough to claim one last kiss, but then stuck to his resolve to leave. “If I stay here any longer,” he muttered on his way out the door, “neither one of us will get any rest.”
Â
Sherri was in the office early. It was barely six in the morning when she started the coffeepot and settled in at her desk in the P.D. She'd left her son Adam sound asleep, but neither of them had gotten a lot of shut-eye the previous night. The break in his arm was a clean one, but Adam's cast seemed huge to her. And for the next little while, he was going to need someone with him 24/7, if only to distract and pamper him.
Pete could stay in the apartment until two o'clock. Then he had to go to work. The town authorized paid time off for parents to nurse their sick kids, but Sherri didn't feel right just abandoning her post and leaving the department shorthanded. She figured that she had until two to find someone to cover for her. With luck, one of the part-timers who filled in from time to time would be available to work her day shifts during the weekend.
She reached for the phone, knowing that her most likely prospect was an early riser. Her hand stilled when a red light went on. It indicated an incoming call to the fire department. Sherri was on her feet and running toward the front of the municipal building before the overhead door of the garage that held the fire truck had time to open all the way.
“What've you got?” she shouted to Greg Holstein, the volunteer fireman who was just climbing into the cab. No alarms were sounding. That meant it wasn't a fire.
“Accident out at Lover's Leap,” he yelled back. “Someone spotted a body at the bottom.”
“Teenager?” The spot was prime make-out territory.
“No idea!”
He took off in the truck in the direction of Spruce Avenue. Sherri raced to the police cruiser parked in the lot behind the municipal building and in a matter of minutes had caught up with him. Loaded with search and rescue equipment and medical supplies, as well as the wherewithal to put out house and car fires, the town's fire truck did triple duty for their small community. A car driven by a local woman who had been trained as an emergency medical technician fell into line behind Sherri's vehicle.
There was no ambulance in Moosetookalook. One had to be dispatched from the hospital in Fallstown, a twenty-minute drive at legal speeds. Sherri wondered if she should start it on its way. Greg had said there was a body, but there was always a chance that the victim wasn't dead yet. Check first, she decided. With the added complication that Lover's Leap was a good half-mile walk from the nearest point where any vehicle but an ATV or snowmobile could go, it might make more sense to request a LifeFlight helicopter.