Kilt Dead (24 page)

She almost steered off the road when she realized where
her ideas for improving the Emporium were leading. Was
she actually thinking of staying in Moosetookalook?

“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Nonsense. Of course I’ll
move on after Aunt Margaret gets home”

There was nothing for her in a small rural town.

Just the shop. Family. Friends.

Dan?

Stop it!

It was a relief to pull into the tiny, secluded parking lot
in back of Graye’s Real Estate. The only emotion likely to
be involved in dealing with Jason Graye was extreme irritation.

The real estate office was small and reeked of Barbara’s
trademark perfume, but was extremely well-appointed. The
receptionist’s desk in the outer room was equipped with
all the latest gadgets and gizmos.

Liss made a mental note: invest in upgrade for the Emporium’s computer. Aunt Margaret still relied on a
five-year-old system with a printer that did nothing but
print. Even Liss’s secondhand laptop, which she’d bought
to take on the road with her, was newer and faster.

Barbara Zathros turned from watering a fern and recognized Liss. “Ms. MacCrimmon. How can I help you?”

“I’d like to talk to Mr. Graye about selling some property, but I’m afraid I also have some bad news for you. I
talked to my aunt this morning. I’m sorry, but she won’t
be able to make a kilt for you after all. Perhaps you’d like
to come by the shop and take another look at what we
have ready-made?”

“This is very disappointing, Ms. MacCrimmon.” She
frowned as she moved on to a spider plant. “And very unprofessional.”

That stung, but Liss wasn’t about to apologize again.

“Does this have something to do with that old lady
getting killed?” Barbara stopped to pinch a dead leaf off
an African violet, her back to Liss.

No, she was definitely not going to apologize, but she
would offer an explanation, if only to forestall further complaints. “Fingerprint powder. Fabric. Not a good mix.”

“Fingerprint-? Oh. Oh, dear, that’s most distressing.”

“Why? Did you and Mr. Graye leave prints when you
stopped by?”

The raised watering can bobbled. For a moment Liss
thought Barbara might drop it, but she recovered. When
she spoke, her voice was bland and unconcerned. “What
makes you think we were there?”

“The neighbors saw a couple peering through the front
windows. I assumed it was you two.,,

“Oh. Oh, yes. We did take a peek. The store was locked
up tight, of course. We were just curious, and it was on
the way home” Abandoning her watering, she crossed to
the desk and pushed the button on the intercom. “I’ll just
tell Mr. Graye you’re here, shall I?”

“Wait. Did you see anyone else around the shop? Anyone who looked out of place?”

“How on earth would I know who was out of place and
who wasn’t?”

She had a point.

Five minutes later, Liss was seated in the inner office.
She’d refused an offer of refreshments.

“Well, Ms. MacCrimmon, what can I do for you?” Graye
was all charm this morning. Amazing what the scent of a
commission could do for someone’s personality. His attentive, encouraging expression did not alter once in the
time it took Liss to explain about her unexpected inheritance and her supposed interest in selling Mrs. Norris’s
house.

“I don’t want to put it on the market quite yet,” she added.
“I mean, the poor woman hasn’t even had her memorial
service yet. But as soon as all the paperwork’s done and
it’s decent to put a for-sale sign up …”

“You’re wise to plan ahead. I know the house, of course.
Lovely old Victorian. I’d have to take another look. Make
sure it’s structurally sound and in good repair. I can stop
by this evening.”

“Better wait a few days” Liss didn’t want him tramping around in Mrs. Norris’s house at all, but she smiled
encouragingly. “Anything before the memorial service
and people will talk.”

“As you wish.” His smile was as phony as hers. “Next
week, then?” He thumbed through an appointment book
as if looking for a blank slot.

“Will you be attending the service? It’s scheduled for
Saturday morning.”

“I think not. I never met her, you see. Terrible loss, of
course” He oozed counterfeit sympathy and waited only
a beat before shifting the conversation back to business.
“Now, then. Are you also thinking of selling the contents of the house? I can recommend an excellent firm that
does estate auctions.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Liss admitted. The idea of
getting rid of Mrs. Norris’s things left her feeling vaguely
unsettled, but what else could she do with them? All those
books! She’d have to buy another house just to keep the
library.

Or stay in the one she already owned.

Keeping a smile in place took effort but Liss managed
it. She reminded herself that she’d had a reason for coming here and it hadn’t been to sell Mrs. Norris’s house.
“I’m afraid I’m still reeling from what happened Saturday,” she confided, leaning forward to rest her elbows on
the edge of his desk. She looked up into his eyes. “If only
I’d done as you asked and gone back to the shop for that
fabric. I might have been able to prevent what happened”

He seemed startled by her comment but reached across
the desk to pat the back of her hand. “Now, you mustn’t
think that way. No point in blaming yourself.”

Liss cringed inwardly at the contact but didn’t let her
reaction show. “I suppose you’re right. And the police
think she was probably killed later in the afternoon. Shortly
after you were there”

“I beg your pardon?” He withdrew his touch with a
jerk. His face closed and his shoulders went stiff.

“You were there, weren’t you? One of the neighbors
said-“

“Yes. Yes, certainly. We, uh, stopped by to look at the
window display. Didn’t go in, of course. The shop was
closed.”

Had she succeeded in rattling him? It was hard to tell,
and even harder to decide if he’d been momentarily thrown
off stride because he’d killed Mrs. Norris or because he’d
suddenly realized that he might have been standing outside the Emporium while murder was being done inside.
Most likely the latter. She couldn’t think of any reason why he’d have wanted Mrs. Norris dead. He hadn’t even
known her.

“It’s so frustrating that the police can’t discover anything about the crime,” Liss said, keeping a close watch
on his expression. “Did you happen to notice anything
out of the ordinary while you were there?”

Graye considered for a moment, his face unrevealing.
“Might have seen some dry rot in your aunt’s porch”

Dry rot? He was thinking about dry rot when a woman
had been murdered? The man’s utter callousness pushed
all of Liss’s hot-buttons. Consumed by an overwhelming
need to force him to think of Mrs. Norris as more than the
former owner of a house he might put on the market, she
blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

“She had secrets, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mrs. Norris. She had secrets. That being said, there
are a few special items in her effects that I want to … sell
separately.”

“Oh?” He paused, pencil over yellow pad, waiting expectantly.

“Mrs. Norris collected … information.” Liss hesitated.
Graye’s expression showed mild curiosity but not the
slightest flicker of concern. “Uh local history. She was
working on a history of Moosetookalook and had a looseleaf full of details she’d accumulated. It would only be of
value to someone who was in it. Or whose family was. If
you see what I mean”

He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about-for
that matter, neither did she-but Liss could tell he thought
there might be money in it for him. She wondered if he
was a partner in that auction house he’d mentioned. At the
least, she expected he got a kickback on any business
he sent their way.

“I’m sure I can find a buyer for anything you choose to
sell.” Graye produced two business cards from a drawer. One was his own, the other the auctioneer’s. “We’ll talk
further when I come to take a look at the house”

Dan removed yet another window from the second
floor of The Spruces and looked through the opening to see
Liss’s car pull into the parking lot. “Taking a break,” he
called to Sam.

He’d been thinking about Liss ever since they parted
company the previous night when he hadn’t been obsessing about the contents of Mrs. Norris’s looseleaf.
After he’d dropped Lumpkin off with Liss, he’d taken it
home with him to read all the way through. Maybe the
cops had decided it wasn’t important, but he was no
longer so sure. Most of it had been incomprehensible, but
there was that one passage ….

How had Mrs. Norris found out? And what had she
planned to do with the information? He still couldn’t picture her as a blackmailer, but if that wasn’t the answer,
why had she written what she had? Only a small portion
of the entries seemed to refer to anything truly scandalous,
and even fewer to anything potentially illegal. Some of them
were benign in the extreme. But she’d kept that looseleaf
for a reason. And she’d known. Somehow, she’d known.

Dan made it to the lobby just as Liss pushed through
the main door and stopped to gape in astonishment at the
interior.

“Wow!”

Her admiration momentarily banished darker thoughts.
Dan was justifiably proud of his father’s accomplishment.
“Like it? We started the restoration in this area and used
the results to get publicity for the project. Helps investors
visualize how it will be “”

“It’s … it’s incredible. I remember how it looked
when we were kids, but this is so much more grand.”

The check-in desk gleamed in the early morning sun,
its rich woods polished to a high gloss. Dan ran a hand
over the surface, proud of the job he’d done. He’d also restored the wall behind it, with its old-fashioned cubbyholes for guests’ keys and messages.

Taking Liss’s arm, he led her deeper into the lobby.
The Ruskins had left the beautiful wood floors intact, although they planned to put down large, plush rugs in the
seating areas. Pillars created small pockets of privacy. A
huge fireplace no longer provided the only heat, but it
looked very fine with its Victorian mantel and the mirror
above. The ceiling, a carved wonder of animals and flowers, had been painstakingly cleaned and painted, returned
to its former glory with hours of hard work.

“See that trim? I painted that, inch by picky inch.” And
he’d loved every minute of it.

The sound of a crowbar ripping into wood struck a
discordant note. Then Liss turned to face him and he noticed the troubled look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Aunt Margaret phoned this morning. Ned never called
her. I had to tell her about Amanda Norris’s murder.” Speaking rapidly, as if she wanted to get this over with, she
summarized their trans-Atlantic conversation.

“You aren’t going to go all weepy on me, are you?”

She managed a laugh. “No. I’d rather punch someone.
Preferably my good-for-nothing cousin. But he wasn’t
home”

“So you came here instead?” He meant it as a joke, but
she wasn’t laughing.

“Dan, I checked the contents of the safe. I looked through
my aunt’s papers. I wasn’t snooping, but … things look
bad. She’s nearly broke. If this hotel doesn’t pay off, she
could lose the Emporium.”

Dan stared into the empty, tile-lined hearth, avoiding Liss’s eyes. He couldn’t brush off her concerns the way
he had Ned’s. “We’re all in the same boat,” he said at last.
“If we go down-“

“You go down together?” Temper simmered beneath
the question.

He shook his head. “We’ll help each other stay afloat.”

“Why don’t I find that reassuring?”

A wolf whistle echoed across the lobby, cutting short
their exchange. Sam Ruskin sauntered over, a big grin on
his face. “Liss MacCrimmon, as I live and breathe. Aren’t
you a sight for sore eyes”

“Hello, Sam. It’s good to see you again.”

“So, did my little brother ask you the burning question
yet?”

Dan’s head snapped around and he stared at his
brother. What the-?

Sam sniggered. “We’ve been trying to decide what
color that car of yours is.”

Dan breathed again. Liss actually smiled.

“The manual calls it `light almond.”’

Sam shook his head. “Where do they come up with
these names? House paint’s going the same way. All `big
country blue’ and `festive orange’ and, my personal favorite,
`funky fruit.”’

“He’s been decorating his kid’s toy box,” Dan whispered in an aside.

That was Sam’s cue to haul out pictures. When Liss
had duly admired little Samantha in a dozen different
poses, Sam switched to bragging about his other pride
and joy, The Spruces.

“The roof’s done. We’ve removed nearly thirty miles
of old piping and replaced it with all new state-of-the-art
plumbing. Ditto on the electrical and heating/cooling systems. Now we’re working on the cedar siding. I don’t
even want to think how many miles of that needs to be restored, but I do know how many windows have to be taken out, sanded, painted, and reglazed: seven hundred
and twenty-seven”

“So the renovation is going well?”

“The renovation is going great”

“Don’t get him started on the wallpaper,” Dan warned,
sotto voce. They’d discovered eight layers of the stuff, all
of which had to be removed from every bedroom.

“Everything will look as great as this lobby does when
we’re through,” Sam predicted.

“And when will that be?” Liss asked.

The light in Sam’s eyes dimmed. “Hard to say. Dad’s
still taking on other jobs, but we spend at least a couple of
days a week here. After the roof, the first thing we did was
reconfigure the guest rooms. There aren’t as many now,
only a hundred and forty, but the new ones are more spacious and comfortable and every one has a spectacular
view.”

“It’s an expensive project” Liss’s cautious tone should
have been a warning to Sam, but he was a natural-born
optimist.