She wasn’t being fair to Dan, Liss thought as she melted against him. Clearly, he needed to be distracted from his worries. She didn’t particularly want to spend what was left of the night talking about murder, either.
“What am I going to do with you, Liss MacCrimmon?” Dan whispered when they came up for air.
Liss smiled. “I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”
Chapter Nine
Liss woke up slowly, aware that she was lying on a sinfully soft mattress, snugly wrapped in something lightweight but warm. What did they call those feather-filled coverlets? Duvets? And instead of one of the comfy flannel nightgowns she tended to wear on cold winter nights, she appeared to have on a T-shirt with some sort of appliqué on the front.
Still groggy, she kept her eyes closed and tried to remember where she was. Not at home, that much was certain. If she were home, she’d have two cats in bed with her, hogging the space. And if it was after dawn, as her internal clock insisted it was, both felines would be clamoring for attention…and food.
A scent tickled her nose. Coffee. Liss’s lips curved into a contented smile. But there was something else in the air, another smell that puzzled her. It didn’t belong in a bedroom. Well, neither did coffee. Not ordinarily. But this second one was even more out of place. It was…smoke!
Abruptly, she sat up in bed. Her eyes popped open and she gave a little cry of alarm. Then the events of the previous night and early morning came back to her in a rush. Phil MacMillan had been murdered. A storm had trapped everyone at The Spruces. And she was in a gigantic four-poster bed in the swankiest suite the hotel had to offer, the one on the top floor of the central tower.
Directly opposite her was a stone fireplace. A cheery blaze burned in the hearth, heating not only the bedroom but also a kettle of water. Dan Ruskin rose from the chair he’d pulled close to the warmth.
“Morning, sleepyhead. Coffee?”
He gestured toward a small side table and the French press—almost full—cups, and coffee supplies it held. There was also a covered dish containing some kind of food. Liss’s mouth watered.
“Yes, please.”
Dan brought her a mug of coffee and a doughnut on a plate and sat gingerly on the side of the bed with one in each hand. He looked bemused when, instead of taking them from him, Liss seized his face between her hands and kissed him smack on the lips.
“You’re pretty chipper on only three hours of sleep,” he said.
“Quality time. But hold the breakfast, okay?”
Tossing back the covers on the other side of the bed so that she could climb out, she hopped down, instantly glad that the fire had already warmed the floorboards under her bare feet. The T-shirt she’d commandeered from the gift shop was oversized, so that the sleeves reached her elbows and the hem hit her at midthigh, but it wasn’t designed for late January wear. She hastily collected her clothes—the pantsuit she’d worn during the day yesterday—and hurried into the bathroom to dress.
When she came out, Dan had opened the drapes and was standing at the window. She joined him there, taking the mug of coffee he’d been holding for her. She anticipated a spectacular view, but sunrise had brought little improvement in the weather. The snow had let up, but the wind had not. Icy flakes blew sideways past the glass, obscuring the landscape.
“Brrrr,” Liss said, and took her first reviving hit of caffeine.
“I woke up at dawn and went down to take a look around. Dad was out there ahead of me. We walked out to inspect the tree that’s blocking the driveway. It’s worse than I anticipated. More than one of our big spruces came down in the storm. They’re going to have to be cut up and cleared away before anyone can get out of the parking lot.”
“Oh, Dan. I’m so sorry.” It was more than just the inconvenience that saddened her. Those trees had given the hotel its name. They’d been standing for well over a century.
“Dad wants to take a crew out with chain saws as soon as we can work safely, but when that will be is anybody’s guess.” He sounded discouraged. “It’s not even worth starting up the snowplow yet. Not with this gale still blowing.”
Wild weather, Liss thought. And unpredictable. Suddenly, she lost her appetite.
“It will all work out,” she said aloud, but she didn’t entirely believe her own words.
“How?” Dan asked. “The power and phones haven’t come back on. We’ve lost those trees. And we’ve got a dead guy on the premises.”
“I take it you told Joe about the murder?”
“Yeah. He put up a good front, but he was thrown by the news. He’s thinking it might be the final straw. I’m thinking he could be right. Who’s going to want to stay in a hotel where there’s been a murder?”
“The sooner the case is solved, the better for everyone,” Liss said in bracing tones. She hastily finished the rest of the coffee in her mug. “Let’s go down and see how Sherri’s doing. Maybe she’s changed her mind about wanting help.”
Ten minutes later, Liss and Dan located Sherri in the hotel restaurant, which was not yet open, although it would be soon. Angeline and her staff were almost through setting up a breakfast buffet.
Sherri’s appearance shocked Liss. While a few hours in bed had left Liss refreshed and raring to go, it was obvious that Sherri had not slept well, if at all. Her smile looked forced when she gestured for Liss and Dan to join her.
She’d chosen a table in the far corner of the restaurant. It was set off a bit from the others, but it was still close enough to benefit from the heat of the fire in the fireplace.
The restaurant, in an earlier incarnation of The Spruces, had been the main dining room. Shaped like a boot, it took up one end of the hotel’s first floor, extending into both the front section and the east wing, where the kitchen was located. The ceiling rose two stories, just like the ceiling in the lobby, and ornate windows lined the outside walls.
Liss couldn’t help but notice the audio recorder and notebook Sherri had next to her. “Are you going to interview everyone again?”
“Only a select few, but I do want to get Dan’s statement, since he was the second person on the scene. It won’t take long.”
“No problem,” Dan said, settling into a chair.
Five minutes later, Sherri’s finger hovered over the STOP button on the recorder. “And you’re sure you didn’t touch anything else in the storage room?” she asked.
“Pretty sure,” Dan said. “Trust me, I had no desire to stick around.”
Sherri depressed the button. “Okay, then. Thanks. What do you say we get some breakfast and talk about something else for a half hour or so?”
Dan was all for Sherri’s suggestion. So was Pete, who had just joined them after being relieved of guard duty by Simon the bartender. Joe had arrived, too. He opened the door to let in the first of the hungry guests and some of the equally hungry staff.
“You’re really not going to investigate?” Liss asked. “Or even speculate about suspects?”
“I won’t ignore relevant information, but there’s not a lot I can do. I can’t even make a good guess at when he was killed, so there’s no point in trying to pin down alibis.”
“I bet we can figure it out. We know when Phil visited the gift shop and when he was found. And we certainly know who the prime suspects are.”
“Food, Liss,” Dan said, gesturing toward the breakfast buffet.
Her stomach growled. Loudly. “I guess I could do with bacon and eggs and another cup of coffee,” she admitted.
Twenty minutes later, replete, she drained her cup and took a look at the people around her. There were no kilts in evidence, making it hard to distinguish between SHAS members and skiers.
In theory, aside from herself, Sherri, Pete, Dan, and Joe, no one but Sadie, Eunice, and Phineas knew anything about Phil’s murder. And the killer. Oh, and Simon, since he was guarding the body. But she took note of the surreptitious glances slanted their way and heard a few nervous titters. It was obvious that som
eone had been talking, or at least hinting, at dire happenings during the night.
“Are you going to make an announcement?” she asked Sherri.
“No. It’s better to keep things under wraps if we can.”
“That horse may already have escaped from the barn,” Liss warned her.
Right on cue, Will MacHenry sidled up to their table. He toyed nervously with the hem of his sweatshirt. “Has there been another robbery?” he asked.
“No,” Sherri said.
“But something has happened,” Will persisted.
Sherri hesitated, still trying to downplay the situation. “An unattended death,” she admitted.
Liss didn’t understand why was she being so cautious. The truth was bound to come out. Too many people already knew what had happened to Phil. Losing patience, and very curious to see Will’s reaction when he heard the news, Liss spoke up. “Mr. MacMillan is dead, Will.”
“Dead!”
Conversations stopped. People turned to look at them in consternation.
Will lowered his voice, but the damage was done. “But…but I just saw—” He broke off to look frantically around the restaurant. His gaze fell on a man sitting alone and he pointed. “Phineas is right over there. He—good Lord! You don’t mean that Phil—?” Will swallowed convulsively. “He didn’t die of natural causes, did he? You’d have said if he had.”
“Mr. MacHenry,” Sherri began.
“He was murdered, wasn’t he?” Will’s voice rose in pitch. Everyone in the restaurant heard him clearly.
“Shit,” Sherri said under her breath.
Looking resigned, she tapped a fork against the side of a glass until everyone quieted down.
“Sorry,” Liss mouthed at her.
“No, you’re not.”
“What’s going on?” someone shouted.
Sherri took a deep breath. “I just want to set the record straight. There is no reason for any of you to be concerned, but there has been an unattended death in the hotel. Under the law, that means there has to be an investigation. Some of you may be asked a few questions by a state police detective.”
“Is this going to hold us up even longer?” a man demanded.
“I already have all your names and addresses. There should be no problem about leaving the hotel. However, as you already know, the storm has knocked out power and all communications. Your cars are buried under the snow and there are trees down, making it impossible at present for any of us to leave.”
Several loud groans greeted this announcement, although Liss was sure that all those present had already figured out that they weren’t going anywhere today. The skiers were frustrated by not being able to get to the slopes. SHAS members groused that they had families and jobs to get back to, but Liss didn’t put much stock in that last complaint. Very few businesses stayed open when the weather was this bad.
“I don’t see why I can’t leave,” Sadie LeBlanc complained, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I can walk home as soon as the wind dies down.” She flounced off toward the entrance to the restaurant.
“Good old Sadie,” Liss murmured.
“The one person the state police will undoubtedly want to talk to.” Shaking her head, Sherri scraped back her chair and stood. “I guess I’d better tell her she needs to stick around. That will go over like a lead balloon!”
Sherri caught up with Sadie in the vestibule just outside the restaurant. The encounter was just as acrimonious as she’d anticipated. Sadie stormed away in a huff after Sherri informed her that she was not to even think of leaving the hotel without checking with Sherri first.
“I’m sorry,” Sherri called after her, “but none of us has any choice in the matter. Your cooperation is much appreciated,” she added, sotto voce, as Sadie disappeared into the lobby.
A timid voice spoke at Sherri’s elbow. “Can I talk to you, Officer Willett?”
Sherri gave a start, surprised to find Dilys Marcotte standing right next to her. She wondered if Dilys had overheard her go-round with Sadie. Probably. Dilys seemed to have a talent not only for moving silently but also for blending into the background.
“Do you know something about the, er, unattended death, Dilys?”
“It was a murder, wasn’t it? That’s what Sadie’s been hinting.”
Sherri tried not to grind her teeth in frustration. So much for keeping this whole thing under wraps to prevent a panic.
“Sadie said the dead guy was wearing a kilt. I just wondered who—”
“His name was Phil MacMillan,” Sherri said, keeping her voice low even though no one else was in the vestibule at the moment. “Did you know him?”
Dilys looked startled.
Sherri’s eyes narrowed. “Did you know him?”
“No! No, of course not. It’s just that…well, once you put a name to a dead man, he isn’t just a body anymore.” Dilys frowned. “This is all very upsetting. I’ve got delicate sensibilities, you know. I don’t want to stay where there’s been a murder. And I’ve got an alibi. I went to bed just after midnight and slept like a log until morning. So, is it okay if I go home now? It isn’t far. I can walk.”
“Not in this weather.”
Sherri sympathized with Dilys’s desire to leave the hotel. Sherri wanted nothing more herself than to go home to her son. As things stood, she couldn’t even talk to him on the phone to assure him that Mommy was all right.
“Just sit tight, Dilys. Okay? Besides, aren’t you scheduled to work today?”
Dilys dithered a moment longer, mumbling something about her shift having started at seven. “Guess I’d better get cracking,” she said, and scurried away so fast that, since she wasn’t looking where she was going, she nearly ran smack into Phineas MacMillan, who was on his way out of the restaurant. Dilys took note of the irritable look on his face, gave a little squeak of alarm, and fled, head down, in the opposite direction.
MacMillan ignored her and stalked over to Sherri. “Officer Willett,” he said, “I have been thinking things over and I have decided that Eunice may have been right. That being the case, I want police protection.”
Of course you do, Sherri thought. Anything to make my life more complicated!
Aloud, she suggested that they go back into the restaurant to discuss the matter. Guests had begun to leave in groups of two and three and she anticipated that in a few minutes there would be no one left but the kitchen staff to take an interest in their conversation. They could be private at the table she’d chosen. And she could record whatever he had to say to her.
MacMillan did not apologize for his behavior during his last interview, but he seemed inclined to be polite, almost pleasant, this morning. He went so far as to pull out Sherri’s chair for her before seating himself.
“I’d like to get a few questions out of the way before we discuss whether or not you are in danger,” Sherri said. She turned her little recorder on. “Can you tell me when and where you last saw your brother?”
“It was in the lobby,” he said. ‘Shortly after the power went out.”
“Did you see him leave the lobby?”
“No,” Phineas said. “I was more interested in peace and quiet than warmth. I retreated to my own room and went to bed.”
“And you didn’t encounter your brother elsewhere in the hotel?”
“I didn’t encounter anyone. I went straight up to the second floor. I did not pass Go. I did not collect two hundred dollars.”
Sherri ignored the snarky Monopoly reference. So much for the polite Phineas MacMillan. “So, what you’re saying is that no one can vouch for your whereabouts.”
“I slept alone, if that’s what you mean. Although I could have had company, had I wanted it.”
Sherri narrowed her eyes. “Mr. MacMillan, if someone was with you, it would be wise to tell me—that person could provide you with an alibi for the time in question.”
“A gentleman never tells.”
She didn’t buy that Phineas was a gentleman,
not for a moment. Was he laughing at her? Or was he just stringing her along? Or could it be that some unlucky female could actually vouch for his whereabouts?
“Let’s switch topics to your speech at the supper,” she said, abandoning one line of questioning to take advantage of the segue he’d inadvertently offered her. “It sounded to me as if you told, or at least hinted, a great deal.”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember all of the details,” MacMillan said.
“You don’t recall what you said about your associates and their families?” Sherri didn’t bother to hide her amazement.
“I was making it up as I went along, trying to get a rise out of people.” Phineas shrugged. “I didn’t expect them to be so sensitive about a little ribbing.”
“So, you’re telling me that there is no written copy of your speech?”
“That is correct.”
“That’s too bad, especially if it turns out that you, and not your brother, were the intended victim.”
Sherri reached into a folder for the notes Liss had made for her. “You said in your speech that pretty young girls were a commodity, especially if they play the bagpipe.”
MacMillan smirked.
“To whom were you referring?”
“No one in particular. If someone took offense, it can only be because they had a guilty conscience.”
“You didn’t mean Amanda Tandy?”
“I don’t even know little Mandy.”
Sherri once again consulted Liss’s notes. “You said something that upset Harvey MacHenry and then, a little later, you told him he should relax because you were ‘done’ with him.”
MacMillan’s laugh was unpleasant. “Eighty-plus years old and the man still hasn’t learned how to take a joke.”
“What joke? Do you think you could remember that much for me, Mr. MacMillan?”
Sherri realized she’d just sounded as crotchety as the man sitting across from her. She was supposed to remain cool, calm, and professional, she reminded herself. She must not let this odious man bait her.
“I said I’d heard he was planning to pay a visit to Helmsdale Castle,” Phineas admitted. “What? No spark of recognition? I thought everyone knew that old story.”
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