Kilt Dead (19 page)

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Authors: Kaitlyn Dunnett

BOOK: Kilt Dead
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“Damariscotta,” Granby told her, naming a town on the
coast that was a good two-hour drive from Moosetookalook. “I tipped him off about the donuts at Patsy’s, though”

“That was nice of you” And convenient.

Sherri drove right past her trailer park the next morning after work and at twenty past seven was in line at
Patsy’s for a donut of her own. That and a large orange juice in hand, she sauntered over to the obvious cop in the
room.

“Murdoch, right?” She sat down at his table without
waiting for an invitation. Her brown deputy sheriff’s uniform was enough to break through the first barrier.

“No coffee?” he asked.

“I’m coming off shift. Sleep is on the agenda, hopefully
in the not-too-distant future. So how’s the case going?”

He shrugged.

Sherri leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Thing is,
I have a vested interest. If Margaret Boyd did it, I’m out
of my part-time job”

“Thought she was out of the country.”

“She’s supposed to be, but who knows. Suspect everybody, right?”

Softened up by Patsy’s “wicked good” donuts and excellent coffee, and perhaps by Sherri’s gentle flirting, Murdoch wasn’t as circumspect as he should have been.
Unfortunately, most of what he knew about the murder
was negative. The only clear fingerprints they’d gotten
from the scene had belonged to people who had innocent
reasons to be in the stockroom: Liss, Margaret, Ned, and
Sherri herself.

“Thought I’d heard of you somewhere before,” Murdoch said with a nod at the name badge she wore above
her shirt pocket.

The autopsy report had verified that Mrs. Norris died
from a blow to the head and they’d matched the wound to
the edge of one of the projecting brackets on the shelving.
No question but that she’d been pushed hard, but it had
been a fluke that she’d struck that piece of metal at just
the right angle to kill her. The murder wasn’t likely premeditated. It might even have been classed as manslaughter, if the person who’d pushed her had come forward at
once and confessed.

“What about timing?” Sherri asked. “Liss MacCrim- men says she was only home a few minutes before she
found the body. How long had Mrs. Norris been dead?”

“Hard to say. The M.E. gave us a four-hour window.
The MacCrimmon woman could have done it, but it
would have been at the upper end of the time frame and
only if she was there more than the few minutes she
claims. If she’s telling the truth, then the victim could
have been dead for anything from four-and-a-half hours
to a half-hour before Ms. MacCrimmon got there”

Nothing new, Sherri thought. Liss had figured out that
much on her own.

“LaVerdiere’s convinced she did it,” Murdoch volunteered. “Can’t prove it, though”

“I heard he thinks Mrs. Norris was blackmailing Liss,”
Sherri admitted, “but I just can’t believe that Mrs. Norris
was an extortionist. She was such a sweet woman.” She
gave a little laugh and indicated Murdoch’s now-empty
plate. “Always baking treats for people she liked.”

“Oh, that blackmail stuff turned out to be bogus” Murdoch sent her a conspiratorial smile. “LaVerdiere screwed
up. He thought the Norris woman was collecting information to extort money from her neighbors, but when the
forensics guys went into her computer it turned out there
weren’t any real names in the files LaVerdiere thought
were for blackmail. Looks like she was just making notes
to herself about characters in books”

“Gee, what a concept-LaVerdiere looking like a fool.”
Computer? Sherri wondered if she should risk mentioning the looseleaf.

“Yeah. He found a sheaf of printouts and jumped to
conclusions about what they meant. I don’t know any details, but whatever was in the actual files shot his theory
all to hell.”

“So he’s got to look for another suspect?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I heard something before I headed
up here this morning about him having found another motive for Ms. MacCrimmon to have rubbed out the old
lady.”

“Are you even looking at anyone else? I mean, anyone
could have gotten into the stockroom with the key over
the back door.”

Murdoch looked startled by her display of temper and
Sherri could almost see the barriers go up. “We know
how to do our jobs”

“I’m sure you do ” Oh, what the hell, she thought.
He already knows I’m after information. “What about
that back door key? Did you find it?”

“And just why,” asked Craig LaVerdiere from behind
her, “do you want to know?”

Liss stole a glance at Dan as she dug into scrambled
eggs and ham. He’d made breakfast while she was on the
phone with Sherri. Definitely a handy man to have around
the house.

For once, Liss refused to consider the damage eating
like this could do to waistline, hips, and cholesterol levels. She needed fuel this morning. Real food, not just a
breakfast bar or a vitamin drink. And she was heartily
sick of yogurt. She wondered what would happen if she
simply forgot about counting calories and found a good
recipe for scones. Would Dan still be interested in her
after she passed the two-hundred-pound mark?

He’d been a perfect gentleman all evening. He’d made
no further reference to his feelings for her, and if he’d
heard gossip about their relationship, he was ignoring it.
She hadn’t gone near that subject either. Instead, they’d
reminisced. He’d brought her up to date on what various
classmates were doing these days, and she’d told him a
few stories about life on the road with Strathspey. She’d
called it a night first, going up to bed, alone, at a little past
eleven. The faint sounds of a late-night local news show, issuing from the television in the living room, had lulled
her to sleep.

“So what did Sherri find out?” he asked as he took the
chair opposite her and inhaled his second mug of coffee.

Liss filled him in on what Sherri had just told her, including the fact that she’d discovered most of it within the
last half-hour and less than a block away from where they
were sitting. “She called from her cell phone. Didn’t dare
come over here with LaVerdiere watching. Besides, she said
she needed to get home and get some sleep. She sounded
exhausted”

“So you’re not off the hook, but she doesn’t know why.”

“They clammed up about that part. I hope she knows
what she’s doing. I’d never forgive myself if she lost her
job over this.”

The lawyer’s office in Fallstown was a throwback,
something out of the late nineteenth century. Big leather
chairs furnished the waiting room, together with ornately
carved, marble-topped tables and a curio cabinet filled
with knick-knacks. Edmund Carrier III had apparently
declined to change anything from the days of the first Edmund. Inhaling, Liss smelled only furniture polish, but she
could almost imagine the days when the aroma of pipe tobacco and the tang of brandy lingered in the air. Here
Carrabassett County’s elite-all men, of course might
once have met to discuss the future of their community.

Carrier himself was less formal than his surroundings,
though he did wear a suit and tie. Ruddy-cheeked, bigbellied, and smiling, he was somewhere in his mid-fifties.
If he’d had white hair and a long white beard, he’d have
been a ringer for Santa Claus.

“Thank you for coming, Ms. MacCrimmon. I wasn’t
sure you’d get my message” He waved her into the chair
across from his desk.

Liss sank down onto butter-soft leather, but no matter
how comfortable the furniture, she couldn’t relax. “Your
office was closed for the evening by the time I listened to
the answering machine, so I just came along as requested.
What’s this about, Mr. Carrier?”

“I thought you might already know, since you talked to
Mr. Preston about a memorial service.”

He didn’t sound quite so stiff in person as he had on
the phone. In fact, if Liss hadn’t known better, she’d have
said he was uncertain what to make of her. He took a document from one of the folders scattered across the top of
his enormous mahogany desk-a will. Liss’s eyes widened.

I am Mrs. Norris’s executor, Ms. MacCrimmon. She
didn’t want a funeral, and burial will have to be postponed until the police, er, finish doing their job, but I saw
no reason to put off probate”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with me ” But
she was beginning to have an inkling.

“Everything, Ms. MacCrimmon. You are her only heir.”

“I’m her-? Her only-? That’s crazy!”

“Not really. You see, Amanda Norris, having no relatives by blood or marriage, liked to keep track of former
students. From time to time, when one of them had a run
of bad luck, she’d change her will so that this person would
benefit should she die. Over the years, she made at least a
dozen wills. The most recent was drawn up about two
months ago, shortly after she heard about your injury.”

Fingers clenched so tightly on the arms of her chair
that she left little pockmarks in the leather, Liss struggled
to take in what the lawyer was saying. The sum of money
he mentioned had her jaw sagging in disbelief.

“That’s in various certificates of deposit and moneymarket accounts. Then there is the house, free and clear.
No mortgage. The contents are included, along with whatever animals are currently in residence. She stipulated that they be cared for, although she did not make it a condition of inheritance.”

A bubble of hysterical laughter surfaced. “I get Lumpkin! Oh, joy!”

Carrier gave her a hard look, put down the document
he’d been reading from, and went to the sideboard. A
pitcher of ice water and some glasses were already set out.
He poured and brought the glass over to Liss. “Here. Drink
this.”

She obediently sipped the water, wishing it were something stronger. Her earlier flight of fancy came back to
her and she managed a faint smile. “You really ought to
keep brandy on hand to revive fainting damsels.”

With a dry laugh he opened a cabinet to reveal a fully
stocked bar. “Name your poison.”

“Thanks, but no. I think I’d better keep a level head.
Will you start over, please? I think I can take it in now.”

“In simple terms, it’s all yours. You really had no suspicion? When I heard you wanted to arrange a memorial

“No, I really didn’t. That was just something Dan Ruskin
and I thought of because, well, because a lot of people in
town would like to pay their respects” She repeated the
cover story with a twinge of conscience. It was true, but it
hadn’t been the primary reason they’d talked to the neighbors.

“Then by all means go ahead with your plans. You understand, though, that she left her own instructions. Mr. Preston
is to see she’s cremated”

“And the ashes? I don’t inherit them, do I?” Appalled,
she clapped both hands over her mouth. “I wasn’t being
flippant. I just-“

She shook her head. She couldn’t believe she’d come
right out and asked such a thing. At the same time, she
waited nervously for his answer. The idea that she might be expected to keep Mrs. Norris on the mantlepiece gave
her the willies.

“I have orders to scatter her ashes along a particular
cross-country trail at one of our better known winter resorts. Apparently she was quite an avid skier in her younger
days”

The emotional roller-coaster ride continued. Liss had
a sudden mental picture of the dignified lawyer creeping
through the snow-covered landscape, urn in hand, determined to fulfill the promise he’d made to his client. It
would have to be by stealth. Liss didn’t kid herself that
any of the ski areas would grant permission to scatter
human remains on their property. If the story got out, they
might lose business over it. They’d never take the chance
that they might lose a single tourist dollar.

Mr. Carrier folded the will and returned it to its file.
“Do you have any questions?”

Only about a million of them! Liss thought for a moment before she replied. She was both pleased and humbled that Mrs. Norris had thought so well of her, but she
could scarcely take in the extent of her changed circumstances.

Good luck? Certainly not for Mrs. Norris. She hadn’t
expected to die when she did. If she’d lived, Liss would
never have known about the will. Mrs. Norris would have
changed it again once she saw for herself that Liss’s injury hadn’t crippled her. “What about the others?”

“What others?”

“The ones who were beneficiaries of earlier wills. Are
they all right now? Did they ever know they were her
heirs?” And did any of them still need financial help?

“Both Mrs. Norris and I agreed that information should
be kept confidential, but I can assure you that she never
changed her will unless she was convinced that the new
heir needed her estate more than the previous one did.”

The reality of it was at last sinking in. She owned a
house. And a cat.

Mr. Carrier cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, there is
one problem Mrs. Norris did not anticipate. Given the
circumstances of her death, it will not be possible for you
to take possession of the house until the police clear it.”
Avoiding her eyes, he studied his blotter. “And it was necessary that I share details of the will with the state police
detective in charge of the case. He was quite interested to
learn that you would inherit.”

“I’ll bet he was” The thought of LaVerdiere’s reaction
destroyed any happiness Liss had derived from the news
of her good fortune. She closed her eyes and tried to
gather the energy to get up out of Mr. Carrier’s chair. “I
suppose he wants to talk to me again?”

When she got no answer, she opened her eyes just
enough to peek at the lawyer from beneath her lashes. He
was studying her with a disconcerting intensity. “Do you
want to tell me about it?”

“Do you handle criminal cases, Mr. Carrier? You see,
Detective LaVerdiere thinks I killed Mrs. Norris. At first
it was just because I found the body. Then he decided
she’d been blackmailing me. And now, I suppose, he
thinks I knew about the will and murdered her to get her
money.”

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