X Marks the Scot

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  “I’ll feel better when I’m sure everything is accounted for,” she said aloud. “And I may have Dan check that lock, just in case there’s something wrong with the mechanism.” It was a deadbolt. Weren’t they supposed to be tamper-proof?

  “I’ll give you a hand with the inventory,” Margaret offered. She set a steaming cup of tea on the counter.

  Liss grimaced. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

  “I do, but you aren’t getting any. You’re nervy enough already. Drink up.”

  Three pairs of eyes, one human and two canine, stared at her until she complied. She didn’t care for the taste, but she did feel calmer after she’d drained the cup.

  “There’s no sense in wasting your day catering to my paranoia. I can handle checking inventory on my own.”

  “It will be no trouble at all,” Margaret insisted. “I didn’t have a single thing planned for the day, other than taking another long walk with my babies.”

  As if they knew she was talking about them, Dandy and Dondi performed a fast little jig around Margaret’s feet, one that would have sent a less agile woman sprawling.

  “Go with Auntie Liss,” Margaret told them when Liss got up to leave. “She’ll let you out into your yard.” To Liss, she added that she’d be down as soon as she’d washed her breakfast dishes.

  Having been given their marching orders, all three obeyed.

  An hour later, having changed her mind and decided that a complete inventory would be excessive, Liss had given a more thorough eyeballing to every shelf and rack and table in the shop and found not a single shred of evidence to suggest that someone had been inside Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium while it was closed. Was Margaret right? Had she carelessly left that door unlocked when she’d left work the previous evening?

  “Are you sure you didn’t hear anything odd during the night?” she asked her aunt.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Did you have the TV on?”

  Margaret sent her a sheepish look. “All evening, with the volume turned up.”

  “So, if someone was down here, moving quietly, you might not have heard footsteps?”

  “Dandy and Dondi would have alerted me to an intruder.”

  Liss wished she could share Margaret’s certainty, but even if the two dogs were awake and alert, they were accustomed to hearing people walking around below them. They were smart little pups, but they were still dogs. There would have been no reason for them to think anything out of the ordinary was going on.

  The sound of the bell over the door had them both looking that way. Beth Hogencamp breezed into the shop, neatly dressed in brown slacks and a white shirt with a name tag pinned to her collar. Was the explanation that simple? She’d given Beth a set of keys before she and Margaret left for Nova Scotia.

  “Hello, Beth,” Liss said. “Were you here earlier today, before I got in?”

  But Beth shook her head, setting long, dark brown hair in motion. “I had to help Mom at the bookstore this morning.”

  Liss tried not to let her disappointment show, or reveal that she’d completely forgotten that Beth was scheduled to work a half day at the Emporium.

  “There now,” Margaret said in a cheerful voice. “You don’t need me now that Beth’s here. I think I’ll take my darlings for a walk in the town square.”

  With that, she was gone, leaving Liss to decide how much to tell Beth. Nothing seemed best. Instead, she complimented her on her outfit.

  Beth frowned. “I’ve been wondering if it wouldn’t be better to look Scottish when I work here. Didn’t your aunt used to wear the clothes you have for sale? That’s a great way to advertise the merchandise.”

  “Imagine you remembering that. You were just a little girl back when Margaret was in charge.”

  Liss had fallen out of that particular habit ages ago. When there were so many days with no walk-in customers, jeans and a sweatshirt were better suited to unpacking new stock and preparing items for shipment to customers who ordered by mail or over the Internet.

  “If you want, you can pick out something to wear. Maybe I will, too.”

  As they examined the racks of women’s clothing, especially the long tartan skirts, sashes, and frilly blouses, she asked Beth if she was majoring in business. All Liss knew for certain was that Beth had finished her first year at the nearby University of Maine branch at Fallstown, and that she was dating Liss’s cousin Boxer. No, she corrected herself. Not Boxer any longer. Ed.

  Beth’s big brown eyes sparkled when she answered. “No way. I’m a theater major.”

  “Well, that explains it. You like dressing up in costumes. Did you design the uniform you’re wearing now?”

  “Of course. This is the work-for-my-mother-in-the-bookstore look.” Grinning, she held up a very short tartan skirt. “How about this?”

  “I’m sure Boxer—I mean Ed—would love it. Just don’t bend over.”

  “Really? You don’t care if I wear a skirt this short?”

  “Whatever you feel comfortable in is fine.” But she had to smile. Beth had been such a shy child. These days she was still quiet, but she certainly didn’t lack self-confidence. “You can go full-out Highland dance costume if you want to.”

  Leaving her young assistant to mull over the possibilities, reasonably certain that Beth would eventually decide against the miniskirt on her own, Liss selected a more traditional outfit for herself and went into the stockroom to change into it. The skirt was floor-length. The blouse had long sleeves and a demure neckline.

  The rest of the day offered few distractions. Too few customers meant that Liss had too much time to brood. Given that she had not an iota of proof that any unauthorized person had entered the shop, she waffled about what to do. It was not until she was ready to close, after double-checking every exit in the place, that she gave up trying to rationalize her way out of her conviction that she had not left the front door unlocked.

  Instead of going home, she crossed the town square in Beth’s company. They separated at Main Street. Beth headed for the apartment above Angie’s Books while Liss marched into the redbrick municipal building. Her destination was located at the end of the hallway—the Moosetookalook Police Department and the office occupied by Sherri Campbell, Chief of Police.

  * * *

  “Maybe someone’s trying to steal your treasure map.”

  Although Sherri’s wry expression and the hint of sarcasm in her voice provided ample evidence that she wasn’t serious, Liss didn’t dismiss the suggestion out of hand. “Maybe they were. Or maybe someone is after the papers I was given in Nova Scotia. I haven’t had a chance to go through them yet.”

  “Liss, I was kidding. Sheesh! Paranoid much?”

  Leaning forward across Sherri’s battered Army-surplus-style desk, Liss waited until her friend met her eyes. “It’s as good an explanation as any.”

  “I prefer the one where you’re imagining things. People do forget to lock their doors on occasion, even you. It’s not a sign of early dementia. It’s just plain old human frailty.”

  “Oh, now you’re trying to be philosophical! Thank you so much.”

  Liss knew her annoyance was way out of proportion to Sherri’s attitude, but the more Sherri tried to discourage her from thinking someone had broken into the Emporium, the more convinced she became that it was the only logical explanation for that unlocked front door.

  “Okay. Say you’re right. What do you want me to do about it? You say nothing is missing, or even disturbed. So if someone jimmied your locks, all they did was come inside, have a look around, and walk right back out again.”

  “Breaking and entering is a crime.” The words sounded petulant, even to her own ears. “Sorry. I guess there isn’t much you can do. I just wanted you to know what happened.”

  Discouraged, she sank into the uncomfortable visitor’s chair opposite her friend and leaned her head back to stare at the tiles on the ceiling. She hadn’t told Sherri about the murder in Chadwick o
r the burglary in Antigonish. This was the first time she’d seen her friend since she’d returned to Moosetookalook.

  “Liss?” Sherri’s voice broke into her reverie. “Is there something else?”

  With a sigh, she launched into the tale of her misadventures in Nova Scotia.

  Sherri was shaking her head by the time she finished. “No wonder you’re jumpy.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Yeah, you are, but it’s understandable. You found your motel room unlocked and someone had been in there. It’s only natural you’d wonder when you walked into a similar situation at the Emporium. The thing that puzzles me is why you didn’t hightail it over here to get help before you went inside. What if there had been a break-in? What if someone had still been in the shop when you arrived?”

  “What if I made a fool of myself crying wolf? And I would have, since there was no one there and nothing had been disturbed. I wouldn’t have come to you now if I could shake this feeling that someone did break in, even if he or she didn’t leave any evidence behind. Do you think your officers could keep an extra sharp eye on my place for the next couple of nights?”

  “That we can do. And I’ll ask around at the other businesses on the town square to see if anyone else has recently discovered that they forgot to lock up.” At Liss’s glare, she held both hands up in the classic “I surrender” position. “I’m taking you seriously, Liss. I swear it. There just isn’t much I can do. Dusting for fingerprints would be a waste of time. Too many people have touched that door handle in the last twenty-four hours.”

  Liss was far from satisfied, but she had to admit that she could see Sherri’s point.

  “Margaret will be fine, if that’s what has you worried. If your hypothetical thief had been interested in her apartment, he’d have gone on up there last night.”

  “I do not find that reassuring.” Liss hesitated, then put into words the other idea that had begun to nag at her. “A man was murdered in Canada, Sherri. And our room was broken into and ransacked. What if both those things had something to do with our appointment to talk to Orson Bailey? What if he was killed to keep him quiet about something he discovered? What if the map I found really does lead to some kind of treasure and that map was what someone was looking for in Antigonish?”

  “That’s a whole lot of speculation.”

  Liss sighed. “You’re right. I’m letting my imagination run away with me. After all, they caught the guy who killed Mr. Bailey.”

  Sherri looked thoughtful. “Where is the map now?”

  “At home. And the photocopies I got from the historical society are still in the back seat of my car.”

  “Just to be on the safe side, you should go through those. Tell you what. If you’re willing to spring for pizza or Chinese, I’ll round up a babysitter and recruit Pete and we’ll help.”

  “Are you sure?” Sherri had three kids—Adam, Amber, and Christina, who had just had her second birthday two months earlier—and cherished the time she was able to spend with them.

  “Positive. We’ll go through that material with a fine-tooth comb. If there’s anything to find, we’ll find it. If there’s nothing, that should put your mind at rest.”

  * * *

  An hour later, with Pete and Dan set to arrive momentarily, Liss finished scanning all the material in the packet into her computer and printing out copies. She carried them into the living room. She’d already scanned and made copies of the treasure map, doing that shortly after she’d found it.

  Sherri sat cross-legged on the carpet, using the coffee table as a desk. At Liss’s entrance, she looked up from the printout she’d been studying.

  “Thanks for humoring me,” Liss said.

  “No problem. Your instincts have a tendency to be right on the money. I’d ignore one of your hunches at my peril.”

  Unsure whether to feel gratified or alarmed, Liss changed the subject. “I asked Margaret to join us but she already had plans. She was very cagey about them too. Wouldn’t say where she was going or with whom. She’s not dating your father again, is she?”

  “If she is, I’d be the last person to know. Dad likes his secrets.”

  “Does the possibility bother you?” Sherri’s parents were divorced.

  “Not at all, but I’ve never been able to figure out what a cheerful, chatty, clever person like Margaret Boyd saw in a super curmudgeon like Ernie Willett.”

  Liss didn’t understand the attraction, either. She left the pages with Sherri and headed for the kitchen. As soon as she returned with a tray of cheese and crackers and placed it on one end of the coffee table, Lumpkin magically appeared. His attention on the cheese, he walked across Sherri’s thighs, sharp little claws fully extended. She yelped as they went through the fabric of her slacks to pierce her skin.

  “Someone needs his nails clipped,” Sherri muttered, “and to go on a diet.”

  Liss couldn’t help but smile. “Lumpkin. Play nice.”

  Sherri laughed. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He was spoiled rotten long before you inherited him.”

  “At least he’s grown out of the habit of leaping out at passersby and biting their ankles.”

  “Where’s the other one?” Sherri sent a wary look around the room.

  Liss followed her gaze but saw no sign of green eyes or black fur. “She’ll turn up.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sherri pretended the cats annoyed her, but Liss noticed that she had a sappy smile on her face as she watched Lumpkin steal a thin slice of cheddar cheese from the tray and carry it away to scarf down in private.

  The sound of the back door opening told Liss that Dan was home. He didn’t have far to travel from his day job—only a few yards across the lawn from his woodworking shop in the former carriage house—but he’d need a little time to clean up. Custom woodworking wasn’t a messy occupation compared to some, but there were plenty of days that ended with him covered in sawdust.

  Ten minutes later, he joined them in the living room, greeting Liss with a quick kiss and Sherri with a grin. “Roped you into helping, did she?”

  “Actually, it was my idea. I needed a break from the kids.”

  “You ought to bring Adam in on this. He’s old enough to appreciate the fun of a treasure hunt.”

  “This is not a treasure hunt,” Liss insisted, giving him a solid thump on the upper arm. “We are simply solving a puzzle.” But she was smiling too.

  “In that case, I’m getting a beer before we start.”

  Dan headed back down the hall toward the kitchen. He’d just returned when there was a knock at the door.

  “Get it while it’s hot,” Pete called out.

  Liss recognized his voice, but his chunky, linebacker’s body was nearly hidden by the stack of pizza boxes and only his dark hair showed above the six-packs of beer piled on top of them. Sherri made room for the food on the coffee table and they settled in to eat. Once they’d made serious inroads into the meal, Liss told Dan and Pete about finding the door to the shop unlocked.

  “I know I got way too worked up over it,” she admitted. “Chances are good that there’s a perfectly logical explanation. Maybe the lock didn’t fully engage last night, or maybe I just forgot to lock up.”

  “Whatever happened,” Sherri chimed in, “we aren’t going to take any chances. My officers will check all the doors around the town square for the next couple of nights to make certain everything is secure. I’d hate to think that people have to start installing sophisticated alarm systems in their homes and businesses.”

  Dan took a long swallow of beer. When he didn’t look worried, the last of Liss’s tension slowly dissipated.

  When the pizza boxes were empty and most of the beer had been consumed, along with a bag of baby carrots as their nod to good nutrition, they got down to work. Silence fell as they each read a copy of the material Cindy had given Liss and Margaret in Nova Scotia.

  Liss had gone through six newspaper articles before she
hit something that rang a bell. “Miss Euphemia Grant and her parents,” she read aloud, “are visiting Mr. and Mrs. Norman Chadwick this week from Yarmouth. Miss Grant attracted much attention at the cotillion Saturday evening by wearing a gown by Jeanne Lanvin that was featured in La Gazette du Bon Ton.”

  “So?” Long-dead fashion designers held little interest for Sherri.

  “That’s from a 1922 society column. During Prohibition. And that godawful painting I bought is of the Grant piper. And I think that must be Yarmouth, Maine, not Yarmouth, Nova Scotia.” She fumbled for the folder of clippings about the Chadwick family that Margaret had checked out of the Moosetookalook Public Library. “Yes. Look. The portrait must have come into the family with Euphemia. She married Edgar Chadwick and they were the parents of Alison, the last of the line.”

  “I repeat: so?”

  “So that’s the link. Euphemia went to Chadwick, Canada, before the marriage. Maybe that’s where she met Edgar.”

  “You’re sure she wasn’t a Nova Scotia girl?” Dan asked.

  Liss nodded. “I’ve got her obituary right here. It says she was born in Yarmouth, Maine.”

  “I don’t see what difference it makes. Adding Euphemia Grant doesn’t change anything,” Dan said, “unless you think the place shown on that map is in Yarmouth.”

  “We need more information on the Grants.”

  “Why don’t you let Margaret handle that,” Sherri suggested. “She’s already researching the Chadwick family tree. And, really, how hard could it be to track down someone with a name like Euphemia? I think we got stuck with the grunt work. I’m going cross-eyed reading the small, faded print in these clippings.”

  Ten minutes later, she threw in the towel.

  “The Canadian Chadwicks weren’t just respectable, they were excruciatingly boring.”

  Liss had to agree. “Big fish in a small pond. If they hadn’t had money, no one would have noticed them at all.”

  “Is Chadwick as tiny as Moosetookalook?” Sherri asked.

  “It’s a little larger.” Moosetookalook’s population was only slightly over one thousand souls, although that number could nearly double when there was some special event going on at The Spruces.