Scone Cold Dead (10 page)

Liss hated to destroy the mood, but it was getting late and she still had to drive back to Moosetookalook. She spared a brief thought for Sandy and Zara. She hadn't wanted to abandon them, but she was doing this to help them and they could hardly have come with her. She hoped they'd found something at her house to fix for supper. She'd planned to take them out to eat tonight.

“So, ladies,” she began. “Did Detective Tandy come by to talk to all of you?”

This produced a flurry of comment on Gordon's good looks, which Liss tried to ignore. She could sense Sherri's grin even without looking at her friend.

“Yes, but did anyone have anything useful to tell him?” she interrupted. “The sooner he can clear things up, the better, you know.”

“What's to tell?” Serena asked. “Victor was the boss. We mostly tried to stay under his radar.”

“He was an old grouch,” Jean complained. “I didn't think so when I first joined up, but he sure did yell a lot the last couple of months.”

A chorus of agreement greeted this observation, making Liss wonder, and not for the first time that day, if something had been wrong with Victor besides his allergy to mushrooms. “Victor changed?” she asked. “Was he having a nervous breakdown or something?”

“Something?” Fiona asked.

“Well, was he taking drugs? I don't mean illegal drugs. At least I don't think I do. Had he been taking some prescription medication that had made him moodier than usual?”

“Not that I know of.” But Fiona looked troubled by the thought.

“Maybe someone should search his room,” Denise suggested.

“Or ask Emily.”

The way Anna said Emily's name made Liss suspect she did not like the other dancer much. “Anyone know where Emily is?”

“The B-and-B,” Fiona said.

“Not as of an hour ago.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Liss saw Sherri pull out her cell phone and punch in a number. Quietly, while Liss continued to question the dancers about Victor's actions during the last few months and his quarrels with others in the company, Sherri asked for Emily Townsend. A few minutes later, shaking her head at Liss to indicate that Emily was not yet back, she thanked whoever was on the other end of the line and disconnected.

Liss was batting zero on helpful answers as well. If there had been any serious rifts between any of these members of the company and Victor, none of them were admitting it.

“What about the fight between Sandy and Victor in the parking lot?” Sherri asked.

Liss held her breath. Sandy wasn't the one who'd killed Victor. She was certain of it. She couldn't fault Sherri for wanting verification of Ray's story, but neither could she help being glad when no one supplied it.

“What about Stewart and Victor?” Sherri asked.

Everyone agreed Stewart was drinking too much. Everyone thought Victor had it in for him. No one thought Stewart capable of killing anything bigger than a fly, and then only if he was stone-cold sober.

Scone-cold sober
, Liss thought before she could stop herself. Her groan was silent, too.

Laura and Jean dished the dirt on Ray and Sarah when Liss asked about them. Apparently it had been a somewhat one-sided romantic attachment, and Ray had been vocal in blaming Victor for Sarah's abrupt departure from the troupe.

“Ray wouldn't go so far as to commit murder,” Serena said, and the others all nodded. Liss didn't think so, either.

“He could find work anywhere,” Jean added. “Wherever Sarah ended up, he could just go after her. If he really wanted to.”

“Unless Victor sent the word out on Sarah. Blackballed her.”

“Could he do that?” Sherri asked.

“Maybe. Depends on what he said and who he said it to. Nobody wants to hire a troublemaker.”

“What's Sarah's last name?” Sherri asked. Liss had a feeling she was going to run a check on her the next time she was working at the dispatch center at the county jail.

“Bartlett,” Jean said. “Sarah Bartlett.”

It might be worthwhile, Liss thought, to ask the owners of various hotels and motels in the area if they'd had a Sarah Bartlett registered for the night of the reception.

“I can't see Sarah killing Victor, either,” Serena said, as if she'd read Liss's thoughts, “but Emily might have.”

“Why?” Liss asked. “I thought they were an item.”

“She was sleeping with him, but she said he was an awful old bore in bed. She was hoping he'd get tired of her soon so she could move on to someone more interesting.”

“Nice girl,” Sherri murmured.

“If he was so boring, why didn't she end it? For that matter, why did she take up with him in the first place?” Liss had a sneaking suspicion she already knew the answers.

“She wanted Zara's part in the show,” Serena said. “Figured that was the quickest way to get it.”

The other dancers chimed in with words to the same effect.

Liss remembered Victor's words at the reception. He'd all but promised to give Emily the role. Why, then, would Emily want to kill him?

The more questions she asked, the less satisfied she was with the answers. It seemed to her that the other dancers resented Emily, and were taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't around to defend herself to level accusations.

Liss understood the impulse. There was a part of her that wanted Emily to be guilty, too. That would be the perfect solution. She didn't know Emily Townsend. She didn't care what happened to her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Liss saw Sherri glance at her watch. “I've got to get home,” her friend said. “I'm on the seven-to-three shift starting tomorrow.”

Liss was ready to go, too. She didn't think they would learn any more tonight. She delayed only long enough to say good-bye to Fiona, who'd retreated to the cabin's tiny kitchen area to wash the pots and pans she'd dirtied.

“The spaghetti was wonderful, Fiona. A real feast.”

“I thought we all needed some cheering up. You, too.” She studied Liss, her fond expression filled with concern. “What happened to Victor wasn't your fault. You're not responsible.”

“I know that. In my head. But in my heart . . .”

“Dinna fash yersel, as the Scots say.”

“Hard not to. And there seems to be plenty to worry about. Sandy says the shows aren't bringing in as much revenue as they used to. If the company doesn't get back on the road soon—”

“Hey—my problem, okay? I'm the one who's stuck in the role of acting manager, not you. We'll muddle through. We always do.”

Liss lowered her voice. “Detective Tandy asked for my input, since I know the people involved.”

“And you agreed?” Fiona scrubbed harder at the bottom of the pot, although it looked perfectly clean to Liss.

“How could I not? Victor was
murdered
, Fiona.”

“Yes, I can see where you'd have to help all you can.” She put the pan aside and turned to face Liss fully. Her pale blue eyes were troubled. “Do you suspect one of us?”

“Not really, although I don't know what to make of Emily Townsend's disappearance. I've got very mixed feelings about Emily.” She shrugged. “I guess it bothers me that I find it so easy to think she might be the killer, just because she wasn't in her room. And because she replaced me in the company. And because I hate that
titter
of hers.”

Fiona gave a husky chuckle, the polar opposite of Emily's laugh. “It is a bit much, isn't it? But you mustn't worry about your reaction to Emily. After all, it isn't necessary to like everyone you meet. God knows, I don't! I couldn't stand Victor.”

Startled, Liss found herself stuttering. “B-b-but you worked with him for eight years.”

“Guess I was just a glutton for punishment,” she said with a smile. It faded when she saw Liss's expression. “Don't you think,” she asked, “that if I'd wanted to kill Victor I'd have done it years ago?”

“I can't imagine you killing anyone.”

“Don't kid yourself. Anyone can be driven to extreme measures, and Victor was certainly getting on everyone's nerves.” She glanced toward the main part of the room, but no one was paying any attention to them. Sherri had already gone out to warm up the car. “I wasn't going to say anything, but I think I know what was behind Victor's attitude problems the last six months or so. I'm pretty sure he was borrowing money from the company coffers. Sandy's right, Liss.
Strathspey
is in deep financial trouble, and Victor Owens is the reason why.”

Chapter Six

L
iss arrived home much later than she'd intended to find Sandy, Zara, and Lumpkin cozily sharing the living room couch and watching a movie on cable. She didn't know what it was, but she recognized a few of the actors' faces. Their names eluded her.

“Well, finally!” Sandy greeted her. “We were thinking of sending out the Saint Bernard.”

It had started to snow again, but Liss was used to driving in the white stuff. It hadn't occurred to her that her friends might worry. “I should have called to tell you I was held up. I'm sorry.”

“No problem,” Zara assured her. “We had a lovely dinner. I cooked.” Sandy pantomimed gagging, then yelped as she sent an elbow into his ribs.

Lumpkin, his peaceful nap disrupted, jumped down and stalked from the room, his plume of a tail held high to reflect his disdain for the foolish humans.

“Any luck?” Sandy asked.

“Not much.” Liss hated to spoil the mood, but there was no advantage in putting off uncomfortable questions. She settled into the chair opposite the sofa, the perfect vantage point from which to watch his face. “Why didn't you tell me you'd had a quarrel with Victor?”

“Victor didn't quarrel. He sniped.” He was grinning as he corrected her.

“This happened in a parking lot. There was a lot of hand waving. No blows were exchanged, but apparently it was a near thing.”

Zara reached for the clicker and muted the movie. “You didn't tell me you and Victor argued.”

“For the last few months, Victor and I clashed over just about everything. No big deal. Yelling lets off steam.” Liss couldn't see his eyes. He had taken Zara's hands in his and spoken directly to her.

“This was in Vermont,” Liss said. “Last week.”

“Not ringing any bells.” And he still wasn't looking at her.

“You shook your fist at him.”

“Liss, I'm telling you I don't remember confronting Victor in a parking lot. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. If it happened, it wasn't over anything important enough that I remember details.”

Far from satisfied, Liss had to be content with that answer. An awkward little silence engulfed the three of them.

“I hope you don't mind,” Zara said after a moment, “but when Beth showed up for her lesson, I filled in for you.”

Liss squeezed her eyes shut and made a face, annoyed with herself. “I completely forgot she was coming over.”

“No problem. She's a sweet kid. Skittish, though.” Zara chuckled. “And is she always such a picker-upper?”

Liss knew exactly what her friend meant. Beth Hogencamp was nine years old and extremely shy around strangers. Her nervousness manifested itself, indoors at least, in a compulsion to pick things up and put them down again. Liss usually cleared a space in the middle of the living room for the dance lessons. In the course of an hour, Beth would have handled every picture frame, every knickknack, and every cat toy within reach. She was the same when she visited Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium, where there were even more small items to move about.

“I don't think I'm cut out to be a dance teacher,” Liss lamented. “Of course I never did think I was.”

“I liked working with her. It was a bit disconcerting, though, to have the cat watching us from the top of the television like some disapproving gargoyle.”

“He vanished when Dan came over, though,” Sandy put in.

Since Sandy was openly watching her for a reaction, Liss tried to sound nonchalant. “Dan was here? What did he want?”

“To talk to you. He didn't seem surprised when we told him where you'd gone, though.”

Good old Moosetookalook grapevine
, Liss thought. Having everyone know your business was both the curse and the blessing of living in a small, rural village.

“He stayed for supper,” Zara said. “He
liked
my cooking.”

Liss's astonishment grew, but she didn't have time to focus on Dan Ruskin's motive. Clearing her friends of suspicion had to come first. “Fiona made spaghetti.”

“That's right,” Zara said. “She was looking forward to being in a housekeeping cabin so she could cook.”

“I talked to everyone except Emily Townsend. Is there any reason I should be suspicious of her because she didn't stay put at the B-and-B?”

Sandy and Zara exchanged glances.

“What?”

Zara spoke. “Emily has her own agenda. She was using Victor as much as he was using her.”

“Using him how?”

“To build her résumé. You don't think she intended to stay with
Strathspey
all her life, do you? She wanted my part in the show. Then she'd have moved on.”

Liss shook her head. “I thought women had gotten past the need to sleep with their bosses to get ahead. What was she thinking?”

Sandy snorted. “I don't think it's a need so much as a choice. Emily probably looked on cozying up to Victor as a shortcut.”

“Someone should really have a talk with that woman about her self-esteem.”

“Just because her actions aren't politically correct in this day and age doesn't mean she isn't doing exactly what she wants to do,” Zara pointed out.

“Anyway, I wouldn't worry about her.” Sandy had snugged an arm around Zara's shoulders and no longer had any trouble meeting Liss's eyes. “She'll turn up. Where's she going to go?”

“She could rent a car and go anywhere.”

But Sandy shook his head. “Unless she already had another job lined up before Victor died, she'll stick. In spite of appearances, she's no dummy. She has to know taking off would make her look suspicious. Did she stay around long enough to talk to your cop friend?”

“I think so. I haven't had a chance to compare notes.”

“Take my advice and don't worry about Emily. She's the type who always lands on her feet.”

“That's because she walks all over everyone else,” Zara added.

Liss sighed. “Wouldn't it be nice if Emily did kill him? We could write it off to a lovers' quarrel and that would be that. I wouldn't have to suspect my friends anymore.”

She meant Sandy, because of the fight with Victor, but it was Zara who spoke up. “If they arrest me, the rest of the company will be free to go. Emily will have my part with no questions asked.”

Liss narrowed her eyes. Zara's expression was once again deeply troubled, her eyes bleak. Even her bright red hair suddenly seemed duller. “You know, if you'd just tell us why you think the police will be interested in you, we might be able to help.”

“I can't.”

“A clue?”

“I—it's something to do with my family, okay? I'm not going to say any more. It will all come out when they arrest me, but I don't want to talk about it before that.”

“Zara—” Sandy tried to tug her closer but she broke away and stood.

“It's late. I'm going up to bed.” And with that, she bolted.

Liss and Sandy stared at each other. “Can you get it out of her?”

“Don't you think I've tried?” Sandy let his head fall against the back of the sofa, eyes closed, the picture of discouragement.

“Do you know her family? Can you make any sort of guess what she meant?”

“No.”

As if he realized someone needed comfort, Lumpkin reappeared. He took Zara's place on the sofa and insinuated himself under Sandy's right hand, butting his head against it until Sandy began to stroke him.

“No to which?” Liss persisted. “Do you know her family?”

“She doesn't have much family. Just a mother in a nursing home in California. That's all she's ever mentioned to me, anyway.”

“Zara is what, twenty-three? How old is her mother?”

Sandy frowned. “I don't know. Young to be in a nursing home, that's for sure.”

As one, they looked toward the stairs. Then Liss shook her head. “We both know Zara didn't kill Victor. The police may have to invade her privacy, but we don't need to. Not yet, anyway. Don't pressure her.”

Sandy made no promises, just said good night and followed his fiancée up to bed. Liss wandered back into the living room, sank down onto the sofa next to the cat, and stared at the muted television screen. She had no idea what the plot of the movie was, but she watched it anyway. Situation normal, she thought. She didn't know what was going on in her
life
, either.

To add insult to injury, Lumpkin bit her finger when she tried to pet him.

 

 

Everyone at Liss's house slept late on Monday morning. No one pounded on the door. No one phoned. By the time Liss got up and put the coffee on, Dan had long since gone to work for his father's construction company and Sherri was well into the seven-to-three shift at the county jail in Fallstown.

“Don't you have to work?” Zara asked when the three of them sat down to toast and coffee at the table in the kitchen.

“The Emporium is always closed on Mondays, to make up for being open on Saturday.”

“So you have nothing you have to do with your day?” Sandy asked.

“Not a thing, although I should probably try to reach Gordon Tandy by phone.” She regretted sharing that thought as soon as it was out and hastily suggested taking a drive instead. “I'd like to show you some of the sights. There's a ski area not far from here and—”

The ringing of the doorbell cut her off in midsentence. A sense of dread filled her before she got control of her rampaging imagination.
Don't panic before you have to
, she warned herself, and headed for the front door.

This time the figure on the other side was not a tall, muscular state trooper. Liss recognized Fiona's dark red coat with the fur trim and hastily unbolted the door.

“I rented a car,” Fiona explained as soon as Liss let her in. It was parked at the curb, a nondescript dark blue sedan.

“We're in the kitchen,” Liss said, taking Fiona's coat and hanging it up in the closet.

Lumpkin, who had been sleeping in a sunbeam, lifted his head and opened one eye when Fiona entered the room. She saw him at the same time.

“Oh dear. I didn't realize you had a cat.”

Then she sneezed.

Lumpkin tore out of the kitchen as if the hounds of hell were after him.

Fiona sneezed three more times in rapid succession.

“I'll close the door to keep him out,” Liss said.

“Won't help.” Fiona sneezed again. “There's sure to be cat dander everywhere. It's okay.” After another sneeze she rummaged in her purse. “I've got a pill I can take.”

Ten minutes later the four of them were back at the kitchen table. Fiona's eyes and nose were red, but she'd finally stopped sneezing. Liss had made more toast and supplied Fiona with tea.

“Stop looking so worried,” Fiona said. “Not all allergies are fatal. This one's just inconvenient. You see, I
was
planning to ask if I could move in with you for a few days. That won't work with a cat in residence. You'd have to get rid of him and vacuum everything thoroughly, and I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“No, you couldn't,” Liss agreed. “But . . . a few days? I thought you were all leaving tomorrow.”

“So did I, until I talked to that nice Detective Tandy this morning. I've canceled all the performances we had scheduled this week.”

“What?” Sandy looked stricken.

“You can't—” Liss began.

Zara cut her off. “Fiona, you didn't!”

“I can and I did. I am determined to cooperate with the police to the best of my ability. After all, it only makes sense that we do everything we can to get this matter cleared up.” She calmly bit into the toast she'd just slathered with raspberry jam.

“Can the company survive that many cancela-tions?” Liss's appetite had vanished. She exchanged a worried look with Sandy and Zara.

“If it can't, it won't.” Fiona didn't seem to care.

“Does this mean you've taken over as manager for the rest of the tour?” Sandy asked her.

“Under duress. And it's not permanent. I'm leaving the company before the next tour starts. I know I haven't mentioned this before—sorry to spring it on you—but I've been planning for some time now to retire. Victor knew.”

“What will you do instead?” Liss well remembered how hard it had been for her to adjust to leaving
Strathspey
.

Fiona shrugged. “I expect I'll open a dance school somewhere. I've squirreled away a bit of a nest egg. Enough to get by.”

“That's all very well for you,” Zara said, sounding waspish, “but there are twenty-eight other members of
Strathspey
. What do they do if the company folds?”

“It won't if we can find ways to speed up the investigation,” Liss said.

“Get this show back on the road?” Fiona quipped.

“Someone must have seen something,” Liss insisted. “I just have to find that person.”

“Where will you start?” Fiona's amusement had vanished.

“With Emily.”

“She's still missing,” Fiona told her. “I stopped by at the B-and-B on my way here.”

“Then with Janice Eccles, the woman who baked the cocktail scones—the real ones. And with the food service staff at the Student Center. Victor's murderer had to have slipped those adulterated scones into the kitchen. Someone must have noticed him. Or her.”

Liss frowned, wondering how the killer had managed to bake them in the first place, and when. The company had arrived by bus only a few hours before the performance began.