The Corpse Wore Tartan

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  Liss moved deeper into the shadows. In the momentary silence, she could hear the wind rattling the windows behind her. Frowning, she parted the heavy drapes, pulled closed to conserve heat, and peered out into the darkness.

  The storm had steadily increased in intensity during the last couple of hours. Swirling snow still obscured the view, but it was obvious this was more than a moderate snowfall. So much for that morning’s weather forecast!

  Since the snow showed no sign of stopping any time soon, Liss was glad that all the members of SHAS planned to stay the night at The Spruces. She hated to think of anyone driving farther than downtown Moosetookalook in that mess.

  She didn’t much relish the prospect of even that short trip. Although it took barely five minutes to get home in good weather, the way was narrow and winding and could quickly turn treacherous on a stormy night.

  What sounded like a snarl distracted Liss from the white world beyond the window. The sound had come from a man at the table nearest her. He sat with fists clenched, glowering at Phineas MacMillan. Liss was almost certain she heard him grinding his teeth.

  What on earth had Phineas MacMillan said to get such a reaction? Liss hadn’t been listening to his address and hadn’t a clue, but a closer inspection of the people seated at the head table told her that Harvey MacHenry was also visibly upset. His chair was two places down from the speaker. He had risen half out of it and was leaning forward, twisted around so that he could glare directly into MacMillan’s face.

  “Oh, relax, Harvey,” Phineas said with a laugh. “I’m done with you.”

  “Bastard,” MacHenry muttered as he slumped back into his seat.

  Liss grew alarmed as one of the old man’s hands went to his heart. His face had an unhealthy pallor. She heard the tooth grinder curse under his breath as MacHenry fished a small case out of his pocket and extracted a pill. When he dry-swallowed it, the man in the audience relaxed a little.

  He must be MacHenry’s son, Liss decided, studying the younger man’s face. There was a distinct family resemblance. They both had noses that were large and slightly bulbous.

  “Of course we know how some people get ahead,” Phineas continued, leering at the crowd. “Pretty young girls are always a commodity, especially if they can smile and play the bagpipe at the same time.”

  Although he named no names, he looked straight at Russ Tandy’s wife. She was a tall, willowy brunette, her face given distinction by almond-shaped eyes. She wore the MacDougall tartan in a sash, which meant that was probably her family’s clan, and she looked as if she wanted to jump out of her chair and throttle Phineas MacMillan.

  Russ, Liss recalled, had a daughter, Amanda, from his first marriage. Like her father, she played the bagpipe. Mandy was away at graduate school now, but when she’d been younger she’d entered the Miss Special Smile pageant. Russ’s brother, Gordon, had told Liss that, though without any details.

  The innuendo in MacMillan’s comment struck Liss as particularly nasty, but before anyone could do more than glare at him, Phineas had moved on to his next snide remark. This one was aimed at Richardson Bruce. “It only makes sense that Rich Bruce would try to supervise the preparation of the haggis,” Phineas said. “After all, he’s had a lot of experience cooking the books.”

  Bruce’s normally ruddy complexion went even darker. No one in the audience laughed, but one or two looked thoughtful. Liss didn’t give much for Bruce’s chances of serving another term as SHAS treasurer.

  Since when, she wondered, had the Burns Night Supper turned into a Friars’ Club Roast? Phineas’s welcoming remarks had already gone well beyond what was acceptable. Liss had never cared much for sarcastic opening monologues, and stand-up comics who relied on insult humor rarely amused her. From the expressions on the faces in the audience, which ranged from mild disapproval and confusion to shock and anger, Phineas MacMillan was making himself very unpopular.

  The speech concluded with two more digs at fellow members of SHAS. One was a clear reference to a nose job that had not been entirely successful. The other twitted Lara Brown—one of the gift shop ladies—for spreading unfounded rumors. Phineas was a fine one to talk, Liss thought.

  “That’s it, kiddies,” Phineas concluded. “Harvey will now say grace.” He gestured for Harvey MacHenry to take the microphone. “And who among us needs forgiveness more?”

  Harvey MacHenry’s face was still pale and his hand trembled slightly as he jerked the microphone away from Phineas.

  The grumbling from the crowd began to make Liss nervous. She hoped MacMillan was through hurling insults.

  Athough it required a visible effort, Harvey MacHenry got control of himself. His delivery of the Selkirk Grace was flawless and his voice was strong and steady when he followed the prayer with a shouted command: “Stand to receive the haggis!”

  Liss couldn’t help but smile at the wording. Ritual was all at a Burns Night Supper. As the company began to clap slowly and in rhythm, Russ Tandy marched in playing his bagpipe. Indoors, in the relatively confined space, the sound was deafening. Liss resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears, but only just. Ordinarily, she enjoyed the skirling of the pipes, but this was a little loud, even for a fan of the instrument.

  Following close on Russ’s heels came Angeline Cloutier. She carried the haggis on a silver platter. Somehow she managed to look dignified, despite the apron and hair net. Liss wondered how the members of SHAS had persuaded the prickly chef to participate in the ceremony. A nice tip, no doubt. To judge by the pained expression on Angeline’s face, she couldn’t wait to escape back to her kitchen.

  Once the haggis had been placed before Phineas MacMillan for carving, Liss made her way to the exit. No one had come to blows over Phineas’s remarks, but if rude comments and snide innuendo were a normal part of SHAS ritual, she didn’t want to stick around for the toasts.

  She left the dining room just as Phineas MacMillan began to recite Robert Burns’s poem, “To a Haggis.” He’d slice the casing open with a sharp knife when he reached the line “an’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight.” Then everyone would applaud and toast the haggis with whiskey.

  After dinner there would be more speeches. “The Immortal Memory” was the standard tribute to Robert Burns. According to the program, Richardson Bruce would give that. Next would come the “Toast to the Lasses” followed by a response on behalf of the women who were present. Liss had been under the impression that these toasts were meant to amuse. She doubted they’d be particularly lighthearted that evening. The first was to be delivered by Phil MacMillan, with the response coming from his wife.

  Songs and poems, all written by Robert Burns, would conclude the festivities. These could continue for some time, depending upon how many people felt compelled—or inspired by the whiskey—to sing or recite. Eventually they’d all stand, link hands, sing “Auld Lang Syne,” and toddle off to bed.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Liss made her way to the hotel offices. On one side of a narrow hallway were her aunt’s office and the conference room. On the other were Joe Ruskin’s medium-sized office, a room with a copier and other office equipment and supplies, and a small restroom. Rhonda and Sadie were cooling their heels in Joe’s office. Dilys, Liss assumed, was currently being interviewed in the conference room.

  “Fine heck of a note,” Sadie complained, catching sight of Liss. “Here we had to come all the way back to the hotel in bad weather to work that foolish cocktail party and now they tell us we can’t go home.”

  “The weather’s only going to get worse,” Rhonda predicted. “I’ve got a husband to think about. And two of my boys. I don’t like leaving them on their own.”

  “Now, Rhonda,” Liss said in a soothing voice. “You went home and fixed them supper. Surely they can manage without you for a few hours.”

  Rhonda worried the cuff on her long-sleeved white blouse. “I guess. But they won’t like it. They don’t like me working up here at night, either.”


  Liss didn’t know much about the Snipes family, but from the careworn look on Rhonda’s face, she was willing to bet that the menfolk weren’t inclined to help out around the house. Rhonda probably cleaned up after and waited on strangers all day and then went home and did the same thing there for her nearest and dearest.

  Sadie was even more antsy than her friend. She occupied one of the two visitor chairs in front of Joe’s desk, ankles neatly crossed. But one leg kept twitching restlessly and her fingers drummed in an irregular rhythm on the opposite knee.

  “Have you two already talked to Officer Willett?” Liss asked.

  “I have,” Rhonda said. “But none of us can leave till we’ve all been questioned. We’re carpooling. Well, Dilys and I would have anyway. Dilys rents a room from me.”

  “They’re cousins,” Sadie explained.

  “Second cousins once removed.” Rhonda corrected her.

  “I’ve got family at home that needs seeing to, just like Rhonda does,” Sadie added. “I tried to tell Sherri that, but did she listen? I’ve half a mind to give Ida Willett a call and tell her she needs to have a long talk with that girl.”

  Oh, that would go over well, Liss thought. “Why don’t I check on how things are going?” she suggested, and beat a hasty retreat.

  A few quick steps down the narrow hallway brought Liss to the closed door of the conference room. Tentatively, she knocked, then stuck her head inside. When Sherri, who was questioning Dilys Marcotte, didn’t immediately tell her to leave, Liss took that for permission to enter. She slid into one of the chairs set up along the wall and tried not to call attention to herself.

  “Let’s go over it one more time,” Sherri said to Dilys.

  “Why?” The older woman’s face wore a sulky expression.

  Dilys was pushing fifty, Liss thought, and had light blond hair with telltale dark roots. She carried enough extra pounds to put a strain on the seams of the black slacks she wore as a uniform.

  “Because sometimes,” Sherri said patiently, “on the third or fourth repetition, the person telling the story remembers a new detail. Now, did you ever go up to the third floor at any time during the day today?”

  “I’ve already told you!” Defiance replaced the sullen expression in Dilys’s faded blue eyes. “I was nowhere near that suite, and you can’t prove anything different.”

  “You didn’t go in to dust this morning?”

  “I dusted and vacuumed a lot of rooms. That’s my job. But not on the third floor. The third floor is Rhonda’s.”

  “Where were you just before the end of your shift?”

  “Cleaning the top floor of the center tower. That’s a luxury suite, but nobody’s booked in there tonight, so I left it till last.”

  Reasonable, Liss thought, but hard to verify. And Dilys would have had to pass through the third floor both going and coming.

  “Then what?” Sherri asked.

  “I met up with Rhonda and Sadie. We put our stuff away, clocked out, and went home to supper. Had to be back here before six-thirty, so we didn’t waste any time. Rhonda’s a stickler for the whole family sitting down to eat together. She had the meal on the table right at five. That’s when her husband expects to eat. Rhonda’s got two grown sons living with her. Bounced right back on the apron strings,” Dilys added in a disgruntled voice. “Too shiftless to go out and find a place of their own to live. A couple of lazy louts, if you ask me.”

  Dilys had been quick enough to provide that information, Liss thought, and wondered what the Snipes boys had done to offend her.

  “Did you see anyone on your way down from the tower suite?” Sherri asked. “Either a guest or another hotel employee?”

  “I already told you. No. Can I go now? This storm is getting pretty bad. Can’t you hear the way that wind is howling?”

  Liss frowned. The weather was awful. Foul enough, she supposed, to account for the nervousness of all three members of the hotel’s housekeeping staff. Their uncooperative attitudes probably had less to do with the missing brooch than it did with resentment at being questioned by the police when they were already anxious about getting home.

  “We’re done,” Sherri said. She waited until the door closed behind Dilys before turning to Liss. “How long till the supper finishes up?”

  “It will be a while yet.”

  Sherri stood and stretched. “Talking to hotel employees has yielded nothing. Zip. Nada. If MacMillan wants his brooch back, then his friends are going to have to cough up alibis. I suppose I’ll have to talk to them all.” She consulted the list lying on the table. “That’s thirty-two people at the supper. Plus the hotel has another eight guests who aren’t with SHAS.”

  Liss gave a low whistle. “You’ll be here all night. Do you always go to this much trouble for a single piece of jewelry?”

  Sherri laughed. “I can’t answer that. This is the first time it’s come up. But the MacMillans strike me as the type to make a stink if they think their complaints aren’t being taken seriously. I figure I’d better dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s.”

  Pete, who had been standing by the window, let the drapes fall closed with a soft whoosh. “Getting bad out there, all right.”

  “Then we’d best have Sadie in.” Sherri grimaced.

  “You want me to stay for moral support?” Liss asked when Pete left the room to fetch the third housekeeper. “Or to run interference?”

  “I shouldn’t have let you stay just now, during the interview with Dilys.” Sherri sent her an apologetic look. “Not exactly by the book.”

  “Police business and none of mine?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  Liss tried to give in graciously, but it hadn’t been that long ago that Sherri had welcomed her help in solving a case. Liss couldn’t help feeling a tiny flare of resentment at being left out of the investigation.

  She turned in the doorway to look back at her friend. It was only fair to warn her. “Sherri? Be careful with Sadie.”

  “Why?” Sherri’s eyes narrowed and a wary expression came over her features.

  Liss grinned. “Because she’s already threatening to tell your mother on you.”

  Chapter Five

  Sadie LeBlanc, Ida Willett’s bosom buddy, stomped into the room two seconds after Liss departed, preceded by the overpowering smell of the musky perfume she always wore and followed by Pete Campbell. Under the florescent lights in the conference room, Sadie’s face appeared more deeply lined than Sherri remembered. The shriveled skin had a grayish cast, but it was blotchy, too. Sadie looked at least ten years older than she was. Sherri wondered if she was ill. She was certainly skinny enough to qualify as emaciated.

  Sadie took a seat at the conference table with ill grace and eyed Sherri’s empty coffee cup. “You could at least offer me something hot to drink.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Ms. LeBlanc? Or tea?”

  “Do you have decaf?”

  “No.” Sherri had never seen the point, and apparently whoever stocked the conference room agreed with her.

  “Pity.” Sadie studied her fingernails, one of which was ragged. “Ida tried to raise you right,” she muttered, not quite under her breath. “I told her it was hopeless. Disrespectful little thing. All those pretty yellow curls, but underneath? Hard as nails.”

  Sherri tried not to let any reaction show. She had been a difficult child and a rebellious teenager and Sadie had been right there at Ida Willett’s side to witness the shouting matches and the inevitable running away from home. Sherri had dropped out of high school during her senior year and hit the road. She didn’t like to remember those lost years. She’d come back to Moosetookalook determined to start over. Well, she’d had to, hadn’t she? For her little boy’s sake.

  Adam was nearly seven now and the light of Sherri’s life. And soon, once she and Pete were married, Sherri and her son would no longer have to share a trailer with her irascible mother. Ida loved her grandson and was good with him, but sh
e’d never quite forgiven Sherri for taking off on her own.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait so long, Ms. LeBlanc,” Sherri said, “but there’s been a theft and it’s my job to question everyone in the hotel.”

  “Are you accusing me of stealing something?” A dangerous glint came into Sadie’s beady little eyes.

  “I’m asking for your help in discovering the identity of the thief.” Sherri tried not to sound defensive but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. She did feel certain that Sadie wasn’t the one she was looking for. The older woman might be hard on the nerves, but she was as honest as the day was long.

  Sadie’s sniff was full of disdain, but her expression brightened. No doubt she was hoping to hear some juicy detail no one else knew, something she could share with all her friends at the first opportunity. “I suppose it’s my duty to help the police,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

  “Were you on the third floor at all today?” Sherri asked.

  With obvious disappointment, Sadie admitted that she had not been. “My guest rooms are on the second floor, and we all worked on the function rooms off the mezzanine, but the third floor is Rhonda’s.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “That’s it?” Outrage laced Sadie’s voice. “Do you mean to tell me that I stuck around all this time and that’s the only thing you wanted to ask me?” In high dudgeon, she left the table and stomped to the door. She stopped to look back over her shoulder as she grabbed the knob. “I always said you were an inconsiderate brat, Sherri Willett, and I’ve seen nothing here tonight to make me change my opinion.”

  Sadie slammed the door behind her.

  Sherri, who had remained seated, slowly lowered her forehead to the conference table. Then she banged it on the hard wooden surface. Twice.

  “Stop that,” Pete said. “Don’t let that old witch get to you.”