Vampires, Bones and Treacle Scones (A Liss MacCrimmon Mystery)

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  “Who is that skulking about at the tree line?” she asked.

  Liss took a quick look, expecting to see Jason Graye. Instead, she recognized Boxer Snipes. “That’s the youngster I told you about, Beth’s friend Boxer.” Although Margaret was on the Halloween committee, she had not yet made it to a meeting, nor had she and Boxer met. Margaret’s frown deepened. “He looks familiar.”

  “You’ve probably seen him around town.” Liss sincerely hoped her aunt didn’t know him because she’d caught him shoplifting at the Emporium. Liss wanted to discount Stu’s accusation, but it continued to linger at the back of her mind.

  “Isn’t this a school day?” Margaret asked.

  Liss opened the door and stepped out onto the back stoop. “Boxer!” she shouted. “Come here at once!”

  He froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at her in shock and dismay. For a moment, Liss thought he might bolt, but he apparently thought better of it. With slow, reluctant steps, wary as a dog expecting punishment for messing on the rug, he approached the house.

  “Boxer, I’d like you to meet my aunt, Margaret Boyd. She’s on the Halloween committee, too, but she’s had to be at work when we’ve held our meetings.”

  Head lowered, Boxer mumbled a hello. Margaret seemed equally uneasy with him and retreated a little to let Liss talk to the boy in private.

  “What are you doing out here, Boxer?” Liss asked.

  He met her eyes at last. The look in his was sly. “I’m guarding the place. I heard about poor old Stu.”

  Liss bit back a laugh. “Poor old Stu would blow a gasket if he heard you call him that.”

  “Yeah.” Boxer grinned at the thought. Then he slapped the back of his neck. “Shoot! Bug just bit me!” His fingers moved over the spot. “Still there.”

  “Let me see.”

  He stood still while she lifted his hair and deftly plucked the tick from a spot an inch below his ear. Fishing a tissue out of her pocket, she squished it to make sure it was dead.

  “I’m doomed,” Boxer said

  Liss’s eyebrows lifted in a question.

  “Well, yeah. That was a deer tick, right? Now I’m gonna get Dutch elm disease and die.”

  Liss couldn’t contain a snort of laughter. “It was a dog tick.” Deer ticks were much smaller. “And it’s Lyme disease.”

  “You’re sure it’s not lemon?”

  “I’m absolutely certain.”

  “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

  “What? You getting a word wrong?” She’d already realized that he used malapropisms deliberately, most often when he wanted to change the subject.

  “Color me mortified,” Boxer quipped. “I’m going to go live in a cave and be a helmet.”

  He’d already put some distance between them. Too much for her to grab hold of him. “Hey, Boxer,” she called as he continued his steady retreat toward the woods.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know I could report you for playing hooky, right?”

  “Aw, you wouldn’t do that to me. You like me.”

  Liss bit back another laugh. Encouraging him to skip school was not a good idea. “Just don’t do it again, okay? If you get good grades, you can be anything you want to be. Go anywhere you want to go. No one and nothing can hold you back.”

  “What a load of crap,” Boxer said, and took off into the forest.

  Several times during the next few weeks, the Moosetookalook Police Department received reports of mysterious lights in the wooded area surrounding the Chadwick mansion. An officer investigated each complaint, but never found anyone suspicious in the vicinity or anything to indicate that someone had broken into the house. Sherri was of the opinion that kids were playing pranks. Stu immediately leaped to the conclusion that Boxer Snipes was involved. Liss maintained that the boy was innocent, although she did encourage Sherri to check on his attendance record at the middle school. She was relieved to learn that he had not played hooky again.

  True to her promise to Dan, Liss continued to take someone with her every time she went out to the mansion. On the Monday before Halloween, it was Aunt Margaret again. They took Dan’s truck, intending to pick up the two large wooden tubs for the “apple dookin”—bobbing for apples—that Liss had been storing in the mansion’s kitchen until Margaret was ready for them at the hotel.

  “So you still have no idea who’s haunting the place?” Margaret asked as Liss pulled into the parking area at the rear of the house.

  “Not a clue.” Liss backed as close as she could to the ramp they’d installed for handicapped access via the back door.

  “You know, there are some folks in town who think the Halloween committee is responsible.” She met Liss’s startled look with equanimity. “It’s a draw—real ghosts in the haunted house and all that.”

  “I can think of better ways to generate publicity than risking arrest for filing a false report with the police.” Liss unlocked the back door, tucked the key into the pocket of her jeans, and ushered her aunt inside.

  “Speaking of generating, when will the lights be hooked up?”

  “Tomorrow, I hope.” Liss was looking forward to having power. “It’s been a real pain stumbling around in the shadows to arrange the set pieces. At least we have more sunlight here in the kitchen now. I had Dan remove the boards from all the windows in this room.” She made a beeline for the first tub. “Help me with this?”

  “Liss?” Margaret’s voice sounded peculiar. “Where’s the second one?”

  “It’s right—” Liss broke off to stare in disbelief at the empty spot on the cracked linoleum where the other wooden tub should have been. “Okay, this is weird. They were both right here two days ago when Gloria and I came out after work to add the china and cutlery to the Death by Poison scene.” They’d arranged the turkey on a flow blue platter, a prop carving knife and Liss’s good two-tined fork lying next to it.

  “Could someone else on the committee have moved it?” Margaret asked.

  Liss shook her head. “No one can get into the house without asking me for a key.”

  “I suppose we’d better search the place. Again!”

  “This is getting old fast,” Liss grumbled, but didn’t see that they had much choice in the matter.

  Together, Liss and Margaret went through the mansion from attic to cellar. The latter smelled slightly damp. In common with many Maine homes, it had a dirt floor. There were even boulders sticking up here and there, since the house was built on bedrock. Upstairs, everything looked the same. In the conservatory, the stuffed birds still sat on their perches, staring glassily at all who entered their domain. They found no trace of the large wooden tub and only in the front parlor did any sense that something was out of place tickle at Liss’s subconscious.

  “Where could it have gone?” Margaret wondered aloud when they returned to the kitchen.

  “It’s probably in the same place as my three-step stepladder,” Liss said, finally putting her finger on what it was that had been missing from the parlor.

  “Dan has the extra set of keys. Maybe he took the tub.”

  Liss shook her head. “He’d have no reason to. And he’d tell me if he had.”

  After they’d carried the remaining tub outside and deposited it in the back of the truck, Liss double-checked to make sure the house was secure. She shook her head as she tried the lock one final time. Did it really do any good to bolt the doors? She was beginning to think it was a wasted effort.

  She dropped Aunt Margaret and her cargo off at the hotel and then drove straight to Dan’s current construction site, an addition on a house on the Fallstown road. She wasn’t surprised to hear him deny all knowledge of the apple dookin tub and the three-step stepladder.

  “Somehow, someone’s getting inside the mansion and playing tricks on you,” he said. “Simple as that.”

  “But why take the tub? And why the ladder? I hate to mention it, but I still haven’t found that second Coleman lantern or my good fall jacket. I wor
e it out to the mansion on the day Jason Graye gave me such a scare. I thought for awhile that I’d left it at Patsy’s and I assumed that someone walked off with it, but the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it was hanging over the back of a chair in the kitchen at the Chadwick house the last time I saw it.”

  “There was no jacket there that night when I went out to look for whoever left the duffle bag.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe our mysterious homeless person took it. Or maybe you did leave it somewhere else and it will turn up again when you least expect it.”

  “And maybe it was stolen by a vampire or a shape shifter or a ghost!” Liss had stopped finding such suggestions amusing.

  As frustrated as she was, Dan scraped his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, Liss. The ladder and tub should have been in the mansion. So should a hammer that went missing on me the other day. I thought at the time that I’d just mislaid it, but now. . . .”

  Liss took a deep breath and reached for her supply of common sense. “This is ridiculous. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. You’re right. I’ve been busy lately. I’ve just forgotten where I left my jacket and you could have misplaced your hammer anywhere. It happens all the time—losing track of things.” She gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “It’s not just at the mansion, either. When I unpacked the Royal Doulton figurines and the little bisque cats that came to me from Mrs. Norris so I could set them out in my new office in the attic, I discovered that I’m one short.”

  Liss was certain the missing figurine would eventually turn up, no doubt in the same place Dan thought she’d find her jacket—wherever she least expected it.

  “And the apple dookin tub?” Now Dan was the one who sounded skeptical.

  “That’s a mystery all right,” Liss admitted. “That sucker is just too darned big to misplace!”

  Chapter Six

  The following day, Liss and Dan went out to the Chadwick mansion after work to inspect the generator that had been installed that afternoon. After firing it up, they went from room to room, turning on all the lamps and overhead fixtures. Some bulbs had burned out, but most worked just fine. The first thing Liss saw when she flipped the switch for the chandelier in the front parlor was the three-step stepladder.

  “That was not there yesterday.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Dan, it’s standing directly in front of the window. I couldn’t have missed it even if I was searching by the light of a single candle.”

  When he didn’t answer, she turned to find him staring at the parlor organ. On top of it, precisely centered, lay a hammer.

  “Yours?”

  He nodded. “Shall we see if we can find your jacket?”

  There was no trace of Liss’s pale blue coat. Nor did they come across the big wooden tub. But in the dining room, Liss made another discovery. “One of the manikins is missing.” She gestured toward the empty place at the head of the table. “The one dressed as a fashionable matron from the early 1900s.”

  “There has to be a hidden entrance to the house. That’s the only possible explanation.”

  “I thought I was the one with the overactive imagination.”

  “You are.” Dan managed a half-hearted smile. “But first thing tomorrow I’m going to do a little digging at the town office and see if I can come up with a set of builders’ plans for this place.”

  “You think there are blueprints?”

  “It’s a possibility. It depends on what the town fathers required for permits back in the day.”

  “Jason Graye is interested in buying the mansion,” Liss said slowly. “I wonder if he might already have found something like that.”

  “What if he did? Why would he want the place to get a reputation for being haunted?”

  “It might lower the town’s asking price.”

  “It would also lower the resale price.”

  Liss grimaced. “Darn. He would have been such a perfect villain!”

  But Dan was right. If people became convinced that the mansion really was haunted, Graye would not be able to sell it at a profit. That pretty much killed his motive for playing childish tricks.

  They left the mansion and drove to Graziano’s, their favorite pizza place. Since they’d called ahead with their order, Dan went in to pick it up while Liss waited in the car. She was staring through the windshield, looking at nothing in particular, when a flurry of activity in front of the High Street Market caught her attention. The grocery store was only two doors down from the pizza parlor, giving her an unobstructed view of two people squaring off, prepared to do bodily harm to each other. One was Hilary Snipes. The other was her older brother.

  “Cracker” Snipes hadn’t changed a bit since the last time Liss had encountered him. In fact, she thought he might be wearing the same pair of ratty old sweatpants he’d had on when she’d seen him the previous January. Most people would at least change into jeans to make a beer run—she could see the shape of a six-pack under one arm, tucked in against rolls of belly fat—but not Cracker.

  Hilary lunged for the cans, trying to take them away from him, making Liss think that Cracker must have taken the beer without paying for it. He probably thought Hilary should let him get away with it, or put her own money into the till to cover the cost.

  You go, girl, Liss thought . . . just as Cracker casually cuffed his sister across the face and walked away.

  Liss reached for the car’s door handle, then stopped herself. Hilary had already bolted back inside the store. She wasn’t badly hurt and Liss doubted she’d appreciate knowing there had been a witness to her brother’s bullying. It wasn’t as if she’d press charges. Liss knew the statistics as well as anyone. Domestic abuse most often went unpunished because the victims had been taught to think getting beat up was their own fault.

  Dismal thoughts consumed her. The tendency of men to mistreat and bully women descended from one generation to the next. Boys learned by example. Cracker’s oldest son, Rodney, who was only a few years younger than Liss, had been the kind of boy who delighted in pulling girls’ hair and shooting people with water pistols. Liss knew for a fact that he had no respect for his mother, the only hardworking member of the family. So what did that mean for young Boxer?

  When Liss realized how very little she really knew about the boy, she resolved to try to find out more. She couldn’t help herself. He’d been right—she liked him.

  “I’m hoping you can fill me in on Boxer Snipes,” Liss said.

  “Why would I know anything?” Angie Hogencamp’s voice was muffled. The bookstore had closed hours ago, but she was still hard at work. She’d just unpacked a new shipment of books and was rearranging her shelves to make room for them. Volumes at the end of one shelf had to go down to the next. Between the bending and the lifting, she was out of breath and her face was pink with exertion.

  “I thought Beth must have talked to you about him.”

  Angie straightened so abruptly that a cloud of packing peanuts rose with her. Her voice went dangerously soft. “And just why would my daughter do that?”

  Uh-oh, Liss thought. Cat. Bag. But it was too late to retreat. Under her friend’s glare, she stammered out an explanation.

  “Let me get this straight,” Angie said when Liss had stumbled into silence. “My Beth brought that boy with her to the first Halloween committee meeting?”

  “I assumed you knew they were friends.”

  Angie glared at her. Liss threw up her hands, palms out.

  “Okay. Okay. I shouldn’t have jumped to any conclusions. But really, Angie, where’s the harm in it? I admit Boxer doesn’t make a great initial impression, but he’s been a real hard worker on the committee.”

  “Checked your silverware lately?”

  “What is it with everyone in this town? Give the kid a break. He’s not a convicted felon. He’s not even a juvenile offender. He—”

  “How do you know?”

 
“What?”

  “How do you know he hasn’t got a record? They keep information on kids who commit crimes confidential.”

  “Not from the police who arrest them.” Liss was sure Sherri would have told her if Boxer had actually been caught and convicted of any crime. “As far as I can tell, the only count against that young man is that he had the misfortune to be born with the last name Snipes.”

  Liss sighed deeply. The possibility that Angie might be right about Boxer had to be considered, even though the very thought that he’d been deceiving her generated a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The prejudice against the boy was horribly unfair. If you expected someone to turn out badly, they often did. It was called a self-fulfilling prophecy! But had Theodore “Boxer” Snipes really defied the odds? Or was she just deluding herself because she wanted him to be what he seemed?

  “I’ve got no proof,” Angie admitted, a grudging expression on her face, “but I just don’t trust that kid. Not since he started hanging around here last summer.”

  “Flirting with Beth?”

  Angie barked a laugh. “Messing with the stock. I can’t count how many books he pulled off the shelves to look at.”

  “Angie, you own a bookstore. You’re supposed to encourage people to examine the merchandise.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want them to stand there and read half the book, then put it back without buying it.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have any money.”

  “And maybe the next step would have been to steal what he couldn’t afford to buy. If I hadn’t kept a close eye on him, I shudder to think how much inventory I might have lost.”

  There were several replies Liss might have made. Wisely, she held her tongue. She had to admit to her own suspicions of Boxer. That was why she was at Angie’s in the first place. “Do you mind if I talk to Beth for a moment?”