A Wee Christmas Homicide

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  Lovey FitzPatrick knew a great deal about a woman she claimed was only a business acquaintance, Liss thought. And she was nervous, fidgeting with her cup, her pastry, and the strap of her purse. Although Liss could neither guess why nor pinpoint what made her so certain of that fact, she was sure Lovey was lying to her about something.

  “I find it a trifle odd that Felicity Thorne confided in you at all,” Liss said carefully. “Was that on the day you were both in here? Tuesday?”

  “No. Earlier in the week. I met her over at the coffee shop. Is that where these buns came from? They’re wonderful.” Lovey’s face was set in a rather desperate-looking smile.

  Liss refused to be distracted. “So, you’re saying Felicity Thorne was in Patsy’s Coffee Shop before Tuesday? Do you remember which day?”

  Lovey FitzPatrick shook her head. “I’ve been here since Saturday afternoon. I’ve stopped in at that coffee shop every single day. How could I resist such wonderful pastries? It could have been Sunday. Or maybe Monday.”

  Making a mental note to ask Patsy if she remembered seeing Mrs. Thorne, Liss shifted her line of questioning. “What I really need to know, Ms. FitzPatrick, is what bears were included in Mr. Thorne’s second lot of Tiny Teddies. You see, he didn’t enter any description in his inventory, and there may be some missing.”

  Lovey’s eyes lit up at the possibility. “More bears?”

  “Could be. The descriptions? Were they all the same?” She already knew the answer to that question, but she asked it anyway.

  “Only in being overpriced! The nerve of that man, increasing the prices every time you turned around!”

  “How many different costumes were there?”

  “I’m not sure. You see, I suspect he was holding some back, just as he did the first time around. I saw a bride and a nurse and one in a cap and gown and another in a big Mexican hat and a serape.”

  “Did you buy any of them?”

  “One, because it was the only one in a bridal gown. He said there weren’t any more like it, not that I believed him.”

  With a sinking sensation in her stomach, Liss remembered seeing a Tiny Teddy dressed as a bride in Marcia’s shop. It had been one of those offered for sale the first day, the day Marcia said Eric Moss had delivered the bears. “You’ve been in the consignment shop. Did you—?”

  “Different bride,” Lovey declared. “I bought one of those, too. Here. I’ll show you.”

  She hauled the huge purse into her lap and began to burrow through the contents. Bemused, Liss watched item after item pile up on her coffee table. Lovey had everything in her shoulder bag but the kitchen sink.

  “Here you go!” Victorious, she produced two small bags, one with The Toy Box logo and one with no logo at all—the kind Marcia used at Second Time Around.

  She pulled out the two bears, but by then Liss had lost interest. From where she was sitting, she had a clear view of the interior of Lovey FitzPatrick’s purse. It was almost empty…except for what looked suspiciously like the barrel of a gun.

  Struggling to concentrate on what Lovey was saying, at least to the point of giving coherent responses, Liss angled for a better look.

  Lovey shoved her purse aside, cutting off Liss’s view but leaving the bag balanced on the very edge of the coffee table. With a minimum of encouragement, Liss thought, it would tumble to the floor and the remaining contents would spill out.

  “This little darling is my favorite.” Oblivious to Liss’s growing consternation, Lovey held up one of Thorne’s ballerina bears. “Isn’t the construction on the skirt adorable?”

  Liss stared blankly at the Tiny Teddy and nodded, giving Lovey sufficient encouragement to launch into a detailed description of her entire collection. She segued from bears into talking about other passions she’d indulged over the years. They all involved toys of one sort or another.

  Liss bumped the table with her knee but the shoulder bag didn’t budge. She reached forward, as if to pick up one of the Tiny Teddies. Deliberately, she jabbed an elbow into the bulky purse. It landed on the area rug with a dull thunk…right side up.

  “Oh, sorry! I’ll get that.” Subtlety, she decided, was highly overrated.

  “Thank you, dear.” Preoccupied with admiring the Tiny Teddy in the bridal gown that she’d purchased from Marcia, Lovey paid no attention at all to what her hostess was doing.

  Liss reached into the purse and seized the weapon by the barrel. Pulling it out, she turned it around and pointed it away from both herself and Lovey. She was careful to keep her finger well away from the trigger. She knew almost nothing about firearms, except that they were damned dangerous to play around with.

  On the other side of the coffee table, Lovey froze. Her voice was as icy as the expression on her face. “Replace that in my purse, if you please. It is not a toy.”

  Liss kept hold of the gun as her gaze darted to the other woman’s face. A worried frown added wrinkles to Lovey’s forehead, but otherwise she seemed no more threatening than before.

  “Why do you have a gun?”

  “For protection, of course.”

  “Generally speaking, small towns in Maine are pretty safe places.”

  “A lot you know. There are criminals everywhere. Home invasions are up. Wackos are always breaking into houses, looking for money to buy drugs.” Pushing herself out of the comfortable chair, Lovey held out her right hand, palm up. “Give that back, if you please.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do that.”

  “It’s mine. You have no right to keep it.” Her nostrils flared slightly, instantly putting Liss in mind of a bull about to charge.

  She wished she knew how to tell if a gun was loaded. She wished she were wearing gloves, because she was undoubtedly messing up fingerprints. And she wished she weren’t so far from the phone, which was on the sales counter on the opposite side of the shop. Not that she could use it even if the telephone sat on the coffee table in front of her. She needed both hands to hold the gun steady. They were trembling already. If she let go with one, she’d be sure to lose her grip on the gun. Or accidentally fire a shot.

  Liss swallowed hard, then very carefully lifted the weapon until it was pointed at Lovey. “I think, Ms. FitzPatrick, that we need to have a little talk.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Is this the weapon you used to kill Gavin Thorne?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Annoyed, Lovey flopped back down, landing so hard that she made her chair bounce.

  “Is it?”

  “No!”

  “Then why are you so upset about my finding it?”

  “Because you’re aiming it at me!”

  That probably meant it was loaded. Liss felt sweat bead up on her forehead.

  “Answer my questions honestly and you’ll be fine. Do you have a permit to carry a concealed weapon?” Liss had no idea if such a thing was required in Maine or not, but the question sounded good.

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then I believe I’m obliged to turn this over to the police.” A thought occurred to her. “You’re from Massachusetts, right? Aren’t all handguns illegal there?”

  “I have a summer place in Kennebunkport. I keep my weapon there. Not that the fact that I own a gun is any of your business.”

  That resort community was on the coast. It would take almost three hours to reach from Moosetookalook by car. No wonder Lovey was staying at The Spruces rather than make that round-trip every day. What still did not make sense, however, was the idea that she thought she needed a gun for protection. She must have another reason for carrying it.

  “This gun has been fired.” Liss had no way of knowing if that was true, but she figured that if she was going to bluff, she should go all out.

  Lovey’s face, which had been edging toward purple, abruptly lost all its color.

  “Spill it,” Liss ordered.

  Heaving a deep sigh, Lovey FitzPatrick folded her hands over her midsection and glared across the coff
ee table at her interrogator. Sounding more grumpy and put upon than either remorseful or scared, she once more denied killing Gavin Thorne.

  “I shot the bear,” she confessed. “Just the Tiny Teddy in the window. I did not shoot Gavin.”

  “You shot…the bear?” Liss repeated. That was not what she’d expected to hear. “Why?”

  “Did you see how much he wanted for it?”

  “Too steep for you?”

  “That’s not the point. I can afford any amount, but the way he kept raising his prices infuriated me on principle. They went up fifty dollars between the time I left his shop last Saturday to come here and when I returned to his store to demand that he show me the bears he’d held back on my first visit.”

  “Why did he do that?” Liss had lowered the gun, although she kept hold of it. Lovey’s motivation for shooting out Thorne’s window and destroying one of the Tiny Teddies made no sense to her. Still, Liss was inclined to believe the other woman when she said she hadn’t killed anyone.

  Lovey hesitated.

  “Ms. FitzPatrick, you lied to me earlier.”

  Silence.

  “You’ve been calling both Mr. and Mrs. Thorne by their first names. Was Gavin Thorne more than a business acquaintance?”

  Lovey’s face twisted into a grimace. “Are you suggesting I was intimate with Gavin Thorne? Bite your tongue! It’s Felicity I’m friendly with. That’s why Gavin was being so beastly to me. He thought he’d take a stab at her by giving someone she likes a hard time.”

  “So you shot his bear.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Suddenly Lovey grinned. “I waltzed right up to the window and popped it one!” She pantomimed firing a gun. “It was a good idea. Best way to hurt him—hit him in the pocketbook.”

  “Pretty good shot.”

  The grin widened. “I took lessons.”

  “In Massachusetts?”

  “On visits to Maine, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Liss leaned forward, her gaze intent on Lovey’s face. The gun dangled, forgotten, from her fingers. “So, the decision to shoot the bear—did you act on impulse or was it premeditated?”

  Lovey hid her reaction an instant too late.

  “Was it even your own idea?”

  “Well, I did think of it because of something Felicity said when we were talking in the coffee shop.”

  “Didn’t it occur to you that you were committing a crime?”

  “It’s only a crime if you get caught or if someone rats you out.” Lovey sulked for a moment. Then a sly look came into her eyes. “Are you going to turn me in?”

  “I don’t see that I have any choice. The police need to know that the vandalism and the murder were two separate crimes.” Liss frowned, wondering if they were unrelated. Had Lovey’s action given the killer the idea?

  “I’ll pay you to keep quiet about this. How much do you want? A thousand dollars? Two thousand?”

  “I don’t want your money, Ms. FitzPatrick. I just want to make sure no one gets away with murder.”

  Sleigh bells jangled. Distracted, Liss turned toward the door. Her hand lifted. Aunt Margaret, home from her new job at The Spruces, stopped in her tracks and gaped at the tableau in the cozy corner.

  “Amaryllis Rosalie MacCrimmon, what are you doing with a gun?”

  Liss glanced down at the weapon in surprise. Hastily, she lowered it.

  At the same moment, Lovey threw herself across the coffee table, ramming Liss’s shoulder. The gun flew out of Liss’s hand. She hit the floor with bruising force, catching one last glimpse of the weapon as it landed several feet away and skittered beneath a display of kilts.

  Lovey landed on top of her, driving the air from Liss’s lungs. At once, the older woman began to squirm, trying to right herself while at the same time patting the floor around them, searching for the gun.

  Liss shoved her away, scrambling to her feet just as Aunt Margaret scooped up the weapon and carried it back with her to the sales counter. She’d punched the speed dial for 9–1-1 before either Lovey or Liss could reach her.

  “Give me that!” Lovey screeched.

  Liss seized Lovey’s arm as she reached for the gun, twisting it behind her back. Margaret whisked the gun away, hiding it beneath the counter. She plucked a tartan scarf from a display as Liss caught hold of Lovey’s free hand. The scarf made an excellent restraint.

  Within an hour, the state police had come and gone, taking Lovey FitzPatrick and her gun away with them.

  “Well,” Aunt Margaret said when she and Liss were alone again. “That certainly broke up the monotony.”

  Liss’s laugh was a trifle shaky. “I think I could stand a bit of boredom right now.”

  “Did she kill Gavin Thorne?”

  “She says not.”

  Under Gordon’s expert questioning, Liss had gone over everything Lovey had told her. She’d come away from the interview convinced that Felicity Thorne had somehow planted the idea of shooting the Tiny Teddy in Lovey’s head. A petty desire for revenge might explain away Felicity’s manipulation of her friend, but had there also been a darker motivation behind it? She’d certainly been angry enough at her ex to kill him that day Liss had witnessed them quarreling.

  Gordon intended to question Felicity. He’d told Liss that much, but he’d refused to say more. Once again, he’d warned her to stay out of police business.

  “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” Aunt Margaret accompanied her words with a hug so fierce it left Liss nearly breathless.

  “I’m fine.” Liss eased out of the embrace, but not before she’d identified the day’s perfume as Wind Song. “No more than a couple of bruises from when Lovey tackled me.” Ruefully, she rubbed her elbow. It embarrassed her to have been taken down by a woman more than twice her age.

  “What on earth were you thinking? That woman said you invited her here.”

  Gordon hadn’t looked happy about that part, either.

  “I did. I wanted to ask her what bears Thorne had in his shop right before he was killed. I’d intended to compare them with the Tiny Teddies Marcia has.”

  “You can’t think Marcia killed Thorne! I know she’s always had a short fuse, but—”

  Aunt Margaret looked so upset that Liss hastened to reassure her. “Of course not! But Marcia didn’t just pull her Tiny Teddies out of thin air. She bought them from Eric Moss, who may have sold bears to Gavin Thorne. The thing is, he’s nowhere to be found, so—”

  “So you think Moss killed Thorne?” Aunt Margaret shook her head in disbelief. “I find that hard to accept. I’ve known Eric for years.”

  Liss gave her aunt a hard look. “You didn’t ever date him, did you?”’

  Margaret’s bark of laughter reassured her. “Nothing like that, but I’ve always found him to be pleasant to deal with.”

  Liss started to remind Margaret that, given the right circumstances, anyone could kill. Just in time, she realized what a bad idea that would be. Instead, she made a production of looking at the clock in the corner. “Well, will you look at that! It’s past closing time. What do you say we lock up and call it a day?”

  “What did you say?”

  The desk clerk looked startled by Dan’s vehemence. “That Ms. MacCrimmon said she’d be in Mr. Patton’s room if anyone was asking for her.”

  Dan ignored the elevator and took the stairs, arriving outside Mark Patton’s door out of breath and short of temper. He pounded on the wood with both fists. “Open up, Patton!”

  From the other side of the door, Liss’s voice responded to his shout. “Dan?”

  “Liss? Are you okay? Did—?”

  The glower on her face when she opened the door froze the question before it passed his lips but did nothing to blunt the fierce anger he felt. With a curt nod at Mark Patton, he grabbed Liss’s wrist and hauled her out into the corridor.

  “Hey!”

  “Shut up. Just shut up.” He dragged her down the hall and into the elevator, pun
ching the button for the lobby.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  He released her at once but did not apologize. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you that if Mark Patton killed Gavin Thorne you could be hurting a lot worse right now?”

  “He didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I…Gordon just arrested Lovey FitzPatrick.”

  The elevator doors opened on the lobby. For a moment they stayed put, glaring at each other. Then he seized her arm—more gently this time—and escorted her through the public areas and into the less grand environs where Joe Ruskin had created office space.

  “Dad, I need the conference room,” Dan hollered as he steered Liss past the medium-sized office where his father sat hunched in his chair in front of a computer. Joe gave him a wave in response but he didn’t take his eyes off the spreadsheet on the screen.

  The conference room contained a long table surrounded by chairs and a side table with a coffeepot and accessories. Dan closed and locked the door and gestured Liss toward a chair. “Now, what’s all this about Lovey FitzPatrick?”

  Liss did not sit. She paced the room like a caged lioness as she recounted that afternoon’s altercation with Lovey. He read the subtext all too easily.

  “You’re not satisfied that Lovey’s arrest solves the murder, are you?”

  “I believed her when she said she only shot the bear.”

  “Felicity Thorne, then?”

  “Seems logical.”

  Dan studied her face. “I know that look. You have someone else in mind. And you decided, all on your own, to meet in private with Mark Patton.”

  “He’s a witness, not a suspect. I wanted Patton’s description of the bears he saw in The Toy Box, as well as the ones he bought.”

  “Why?”

  “To see if they match any of Marcia’s stock.”

  “Do they?”

  “Not so far as I can tell.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “If you seriously believe that someone killed Thorne in order to steal the bears, then I’d think Mark Patton would be a prime suspect. He is buying for resale, after all.”