Overkilt

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

“Of course he doesn’t. Joe’s promotion just specified couples. Besides, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t tell unmarried people or gay or lesbian couples that they couldn’t participate because of their marital status or sexual orientation. He’d be breaking the law if he did.”

  “Agreed.” Sherri replaced the tape and picked up a stapler. “The thing is, Spinner doesn’t live in the same century as the rest of us.”

  “That’s his problem, not ours.” Liss sighed. “I get that he has every right to hold this rally, but are you sure we don’t have anything to worry about?”

  “He can spew all the vitriol he wants. I expect people will just ignore his ranting, the same way they always do.” Sherri cocked her head to better hear the faint strains of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” as played by the high school marching band. The Halloween parade was almost back to where it had started. “I’ve got to go.”

  She was halfway across the shop when Liss called after her, “Do you really need that stapler when you have a gun and pepper spray?”

  “Oops. Sorry.” With a laugh, she tossed it in Liss’s direction. “I forgot I was holding it.”

  Catching the stapler one-handed, Liss carried it with her to the plate-glass display window that faced the town square. The view was almost identical to that from the porch but much warmer. Liss watched Sherri cross the street, then looked around for the New Age Pilgrims. They were nowhere in sight. She supposed it was too much to hope for that they’d stay gone, but it gave her a fleeting sense of satisfaction to throw their crumpled flyer into the wastepaper basket.

  After that, she was too busy to worry about the coming demonstration or Spinner’s campaign against the Ruskins. She had to rush to get out the baskets of candy she’d prepared before the first swarm of trick-or-treaters descended.

  * * *

  Despite her resolution not to worry about Hadley Spinner’s campaign to ruin her business and those of Dan, Sam, and Joe Ruskin, Liss couldn’t ignore what the leader of the New Age Pilgrims had planned. In the spirit of “know your enemy,” she made a point of reading every one of Spinner’s venom-laced online posts. The responses his followers posted were almost as disconcerting, but she consoled herself with the belief that these exchanges would go largely unnoticed in the greater cyber world. From what she’d observed, unless the person posting was a celebrity, traffic on any one account on any given day tended to be low. Not many more people than the ones who left comments were even aware of the exchange.

  On Tuesday morning, the real Halloween, Liss’s attempts at rationalizing came crashing down. With a slowly dawning sense of horror, she saw that one of Spinner’s nastiest posts had gone viral.

  She stared at the numbers, unable to believe what she was seeing. Hadley Spinner’s words had been read and liked by nearly half a million people. Hundreds had shared the post. Over a thousand people had left comments, and the majority appeared to support Spinner’s hateful rhetoric and bigoted sentiments.

  This was bad. Very bad. The most vitriolic of the comments didn’t pull any punches. They wanted Joe and his entire family tarred and feathered . . . and worse. What was wrong with these people?

  When the phone at Liss’s elbow rang, she jumped a foot. She checked the caller ID and when it showed an unfamiliar number, she let it ring. The caller hung up rather than leave a message.

  Liss sighed. Lost sale or wacko? It was impossible to tell. She was contemplating punching in the number to see who would answer when the door opened to admit a burst of chilly end-of-October air and a harried-looking Tricia Lynd.

  The events coordinator for The Spruces was a woman in her late twenties with snapping black eyes and short hair that hugged her scalp. This week it was the color of a fine aged Burgundy. Lithe and energetic, she normally radiated vitality and enthusiasm. At the moment, both were noticeably absent.

  “Do you know where Margaret is?” Tricia blurted out. “I’ve been knocking on her outside door but she doesn’t answer.”

  Hearing the edge of panic in Tricia’s voice, Liss wasn’t about to send her out looking. Margaret had taken the dogs for a walk. They could be anywhere in the village. Instead, she came out from behind the sales counter and deftly steered Tricia into the shop’s “cozy corner,” where two comfortable armchairs and a coffee table were arranged to allow customers to browse the Scottish-themed books offered for sale on a nearby shelf. The area was also an ideal spot for the owner to take the occasional break.

  “Come and sit down while you wait for her. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Tricia gave a shaky laugh. “Margaret’s cure-all? I don’t think it will help.”

  “Good. Because my selection is limited.”

  She fixed them two mugs of coffee instead, inhaling the fragrant steam as she carried them out to the cozy corner. Tricia appeared to be a bit calmer by the time she’d taken a few sips, but she was still visibly upset.

  “I could sure use Margaret’s advice,” she said. “She did such a wonderful job as events coordinator. She left me big shoes to fill.”

  Liss smiled, thinking of her aunt’s size six feet, but she knew what Tricia meant. “She should be back soon, but if it would help to talk to me in the meantime, feel free. Is this about the New Age Pilgrims?”

  “Our Couples Weekend is a public relations disaster.” Tears welled up in Tricia’s eyes.

  “I’m sure that people who chose to stay at The Spruces will know better than to believe the nonsense Spinner spouts.”

  “You’d think, but there have already been cancellations and not just individual reservations either. One entire event, a wedding, just pulled out.”

  Liss’s heart sank. Apparently, the power of social media was greater than she’d imagined.

  “Did they say this smear campaign was the reason? Maybe the cancellations are just a coincidence.”

  Tricia took another sip of coffee before she answered. “The reservations were cancelled online, so maybe you’re right, but I talked to the mother of the bride myself. She was very explicit about why she didn’t want to do business with us. I tried to explain that there was no foundation for the claims Spinner is making, but she wasn’t willing to listen.”

  “Her loss, then.”

  They heard Margaret and the two Scotties arrive home a few minutes later and Liss sent Tricia up the interior stairs behind the sales counter to talk to her. When she was alone again, she booted up her computer. She hesitated, but only long enough to find the right words. Then she posted a comment on Spinner’s rant, one she hoped would convince at least a few people that they were being deceived by his outrageous claims.

  An hour later, she took a break from unpacking and shelving new stock to check her e-mail. Along with a couple of customer queries and an obvious example of phishing, she found a message so vicious that she felt the color drain from her face. Just reading the words made her skin crawl.

  Her first impulse was to delete it, but common sense stopped her before she could consign it to the virtual trash bin. It would be foolish to destroy evidence. Difficult as it was to believe, she had just received a death threat.

  Liss wasn’t afraid. Not exactly. She didn’t believe that the anonymous sender really intended to come to Moosetookalook and do to her all the despicable things he’d listed in his e-mail. Chances were good that he didn’t even live in the same state. But just to be safe, she forwarded the message to Sherri. This was something the police could look into.

  Since it was obvious that the person who had sent her that e-mail had read her comment on Spinner’s post, she braced herself and checked for other responses on his page. She swallowed convulsively when she saw how many there were. Even before she began to read, she knew that most of them would be negative, but she didn’t expect them to range from the merely crude all the way to vicious and threatening. The threats weren’t just against her person either. If these angry comments were anything to go by, Spinner’s call to boycott Moosetookalook businesses connected to the hotel
had widespread support.

  Liss told herself that these were not people who would ever order merchandise from her in the first place. The loss of their nonexistent business would have no effect on her bottom line. All the same, by the time she exited her social media account she felt thoroughly uneasy. Her spirits sank even lower when she saw that there were no online orders waiting to be filled.

  What if the boycott was working? From what she’d read during the past hour, it was painfully obvious that some people would believe anything they saw on the Internet.

  Cut it out, she told herself. It wouldn’t do any good to fall into a depression.

  Moping around was not her natural response to bad news. She was too much of an optimist. She cheered herself up with the thought that Spinner’s attempt to damage the reputation of local businesses would probably fizzle out. His online campaign was an overreaction to a non-issue, as was the upcoming demonstration.

  It’s overkill, she thought, and then had to fight a smile as an even better word occurred to her. Given the business she was in, Spinner’s campaign against Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium was best described as “over kilt.”

  * * *

  “There’s not much I can do,” Sherri said an hour later as she and Liss ate cookies and sipped coffee in the Emporium’s cozy corner. “I don’t have the resources to find out who sent you that e-mail, and even if I could discover his identity, he’s probably protected by his right to freedom of speech.”

  “Even when he says such horrible things?” Liss already knew the answer, but she felt compelled to ask.

  “If you could identify him, and if you could prove that he presents a real threat to you, you might be able to get a restraining order to keep him away, but frankly those aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. Unless he tries to carry out one of his threats, he’s just mouthing off.”

  Liss’s hands clenched more tightly around her coffee mug. “So if he attacks me, assuming I survive, then you can arrest him?”

  “That’s about the size of it. It stinks when you’re the potential victim, but look at it from the other side. Say you lose your temper with a customer and blurt out a threat. Not anything you’d actually do, but the person is disruptive and you really, really want him to leave.”

  “Get out of here or I’ll kill you?”

  “Exactly. In the heat of anger, we’ve all said things we didn’t mean.”

  Liss had to smile at the absurd notion that such a situation could ever arise at the Emporium, but at the same time she understood the point Sherri was trying to make. “Maybe you’re right and this guy is just letting off steam. I hope so. But I can’t help but be concerned about the rally Spinner has planned for Saturday.”

  “It won’t amount to anything. Remember that protest a few years back, when some society or other objected to that historical reenactment at the Scottish festival?”

  “How could I forget? Because of that brouhaha, my father ended up being a suspect in a homicide.”

  “Not for long,” Sherri reminded her, “and my point is that having picketers outside the grounds of The Spruces back then didn’t amount to a hill of beans.”

  “This is different. Besides, the hotel itself wasn’t the target that time. The Spruces was just the venue for the reenactment. What Spinner has spawned appears to have a much broader base, and he seems determined to damage my business, and Dan’s, and Sam’s, as well as Joe’s.”

  “Seriously, Liss? Just how many people do you think are going to make the trek to tiny little Moosetookalook, Maine, because some blowhard sounded off on social media?”

  “I don’t think we should underestimate the power of the Internet.”

  “Oh, believe me, I don’t. But I can’t see this drawing much of a crowd.” She held up one hand in the universal “stop” signal. The other held a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie from Patsy’s Coffee House. “I’m not dismissing your concerns. My entire police force will be on duty on Saturday, plus a few officers borrowed from the sheriff’s department, just to make sure there’s no trouble.”

  Liss felt a little better hearing that. Sherri didn’t have a large department but her officers were well trained, and the deputies would undoubtedly include Pete Campbell, Sherri’s husband, a Moosetookalook native respected by the entire community. Still, the whole situation was worrisome.

  “What if Spinner is able to pull in hotheads from away?”

  Sherri dusted cookie crumbs off the front of her uniform and stood. “Don’t worry,” she said as she headed for the door. “I’ll keep an eye on Spinner’s posts and the responses he gets. In the meantime, don’t add any more comments of your own. The best way to deal with Internet trolls is to ignore them.”

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, Liss’s morning began in the usual way. She got up, got dressed, fed Lumpkin and Glenora, and shared a light breakfast of coffee, orange juice, and whole wheat toast with Dan. When he headed out the back door to his woodworking shop, she left by the front and walked the short distance to Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. It promised to be a gorgeous day, and warm for the beginning of November. She wore a jacket but she doubted she’d need one if she went outside again later.

  She was halfway to her destination before she realized that something was wrong. At first it was only an impression of dark slashes across lighter-colored wood, but that was enough to make her stomach clench. She sped up until she was nearly running by the time she reached her store. Her legs trembled as she stepped up onto the porch and read the words that had been crudely printed on the door in bold black paint. During the night, someone had left a message aimed at Liss’s customers: DO NOT SUPPORT A BUSINESS THAT SUPPORTS SIN.

  The paint had run a little on some of the letters. Even though the dribbles were not red, they made Liss think of blood. She shuddered. For a moment, her mind went blank. She couldn’t look away from the words defacing her place of business but she couldn’t think what to do about them, either.

  “You, too, eh?”

  Liss’s entire body jerked at the sound of Maud Dennison’s voice. She hadn’t noticed the older woman arriving at Carrabassett County Wood Crafts, the co-op Dan had established with fellow woodworkers in the building next door to Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium.

  “Me, too?” she asked, confused.

  Maud’s steely gaze matched her iron gray hair. For many years, those eyes had looked down a decidedly hooked nose to intimidate rambunctious seventh-graders. Like Liss’s mother, who had taught history to teenagers for well over three decades, Maud had been a force to be reckoned with in the classroom. Liss took an involuntary step away from her.

  “They painted CHILDREN OF THE DEVIL on the door of the craft shop,” Maud said.

  “Good grief.”

  “I can’t imagine why the people in the apartment over the shop didn’t hear them.”

  “Oh, my God! Margaret!”

  Her hands made clumsy by anxiety, Liss fumbled with the lock on the Emporium’s door. If her aunt had become aware of someone on the porch, she’d have come downstairs to investigate. What if they’d forced their way in and hurt her?

  When she finally managed to get inside, she barely glanced at the shop as she rushed through. She didn’t notice anything out of place, but she wasn’t about to stop for a closer look. She was too anxious about Margaret’s safety.

  She’d climbed only a few steps toward her aunt’s apartment before Margaret’s two Scottish terriers, Dandy and Dondi, started to bark. The sound of Margaret’s voice calling out to them to be quiet and then ordering them to sit and stay was music to Liss’s ears.

  She hurried the rest of the way upstairs, no longer in a panic but still concerned. She didn’t realize that Maud was right behind her until they both stood on the tiny landing in front of Margaret’s door and Margaret, still in her bathrobe, was peering out at them in bewilderment. The two dogs held their positions behind her, but they were vibrating with their need to greet the newcomers
.

  Margaret took one look at the expression on her niece’s face and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “A plague of vandals, that’s what.” Maud had never been one to mince words. Once they were inside the apartment, she extracted a cell phone from the pocket of her slacks. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Someone defaced the entrances to the Emporium and the craft shop.” Liss told her aunt what the painted messages said.

  “This has gotten out of hand.” More angry than shocked, Margaret steered Liss and Maud into the kitchen. Since she preferred tea to coffee, the water in the kettle was already boiling. Arbitrarily deciding that this situation called for chamomile, she made three cups of the herbal brew. Liss accepted hers without enthusiasm.

  “Sherri will be here as soon as she can,” Maud said. She’d made a succinct report on the vandalism over the phone. She glanced at her watch, and nodded to herself. “She was still at home, but it shouldn’t take her more than ten minutes.”

  A quarter of an hour later they were still waiting. Margaret had poured more tea without giving either Maud or Liss the option of turning it down. Another five minutes passed before Sherri knocked on the door.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” she apologized, “but your businesses weren’t the only ones that were vandalized last night. Someone painted the word prevert on the door of Patsy’s Coffee House.”

  “Prevert?” Liss wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

  Sherri’s expression was wry. “We appear to have a vandal who can’t spell. I assume he meant pervert.”

  “That still doesn’t make any sense. Why—?” She broke off when she caught Margaret and Maud exchanging a look. “What?”

  “I guess you didn’t know,” Margaret said. “Patsy is gay.”

  “No!”

  Margaret chuckled. “Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”

  Maud looked offended by Liss’s reaction. “Do you have a problem with lesbians?”

  Taken aback by the censure in the words, Liss struggled not to sound defensive. “Of course not. I was just surprised. Margaret’s right. I didn’t know. Why would I? I don’t go around asking people about their sexual orientation. That’s not something that matters to me.”