Liss felt her eyes well with tears. She blinked them away and managed a watery smile. The unstinting support of her neighbors buoyed her up in a way little else could have. “I only wish Detective Franklin could see things as clearly as you two do.”
“He’ll come around,” Patsy predicted. “He’s just somewhat slow.”
Liss hoped she was right. “I don’t suppose either of you saw my father on the day of the murder?”
“Sorry,” Patsy said. “I don’t have time to be looking out at the street.”
But Angie nodded slowly. “I think I saw him drive away that day. Didn’t he leave a little before you did? I remember seeing you go off with your mother and Sherri and Zara. To your dress fittings, right?”
“Yes. I closed the shop for the day.” Liss sighed. “If only I’d glanced at the display on my way out of town.”
“Well, I can tell you for certain that your father wasn’t carrying any great honking sword when he left your house. I’ll tell the police that, too.” Angie gave a derisive snort at the very idea and took another swig of hot chocolate.
“The cops will just claim that he already had it stashed in his car.” She considered for a moment. “It must have been gone by then.”
“I’m sorry, Liss. I wish I could remember when I saw it last.”
“Don’t fret about it, Angie. There was no reason for anyone to pay attention to what was or wasn’t in my window.”
“Now that I think about it, I recall seeing your father come back home, too. It was about an hour before you returned. I can testify that he most definitely did not have blood all over him.”
“That’s great,” Patsy said. “Isn’t it?”
“Every little bit helps,” Liss agreed. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t prove his innocence. Unless someone saw Professor Palsgrave alive after my father was well on his way back to Moosetookalook, knowing when he arrived here doesn’t help his case at all.” She ran the chronology of events in her head and frowned. “Damn. Even if we find a witness, it may not help. News of the murder had already been announced before I left Three Cities. It takes an hour and a half for the drive home. The timing of Dad’s return to Moosetookalook may even work against him.”
Chapter Seven
The rest of Saturday and all day Sunday passed quietly. Almost too quietly.
“Why haven’t the police canvassed the neighborhood?” Liss demanded of Sherri after the two of them, Dan, and Pete had demolished a half dozen large cartons of Chinese takeout. The smell of sesame chicken still hung in the air.
“Are you sure they didn’t?” Pete asked. Dark haired and dark eyed, with the solid build of a linebacker, he personified the description “laid back,” at least when he was off duty.
“No one has questioned Angie,” Liss reminded him. She’d already told them about the bookseller’s observations. In the end, Angie had not phoned Detective Franklin. She hadn’t thought she had anything useful to tell him and Liss had been forced to agree.
Sherri and Pete exchanged a pointed look.
“What?” Liss demanded, intercepting it.
But it was Dan who answered. “You’re too close to this, Liss. Hang back and let Franklin do his job.”
“Even if he arrests my father for a crime he didn’t commit? He must think Dad is guilty, that he took the sword and killed Palsgrave. That’s the only reason I can think of for his failure to verify my father’s movements on the day of the murder.”
“If Mac is arrested—and that’s a big if, because we all know your father isn’t the type to go around killing people—we’ll deal with it,” Dan said. “There’s no sense in borrowing trouble.”
“For all you know, Franklin has already found a witness to give Mac an alibi,” Pete put in.
“And if you stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Sherri said bluntly, “you could mess up an ongoing investigation into some other suspect. Leave it alone.”
They were right. Liss knew they were right. But it was hard to sit back and do nothing. She started to speak, then took a good hard look at the concern creasing Dan’s face. He was working so hard to be able to take time off for their honeymoon. He didn’t need to be worrying about what she got up to. She could give him that much.
“I haven’t been snooping,” she assured them in all honesty. It wasn’t her fault that people like Caroline Halladay and Angie Hogencamp came into the Emporium of their own free will and talked to her. “And I promise I won’t interfere.”
“Thank you.” The tension went out of Dan’s shoulders and the muscles in his face visibly relaxed.
“Look at the bright side,” Pete said. “There obviously isn’t enough evidence to arrest your father or he’d already be in jail. Therefore, Franklin will keep following leads until he finds the real killer.”
Liss dutifully put on a cheerful face and hid her continuing concern from her fiancé and her friends. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other things to occupy her mind. July 25 was less than two weeks away and she still had a dozen items on her to-do list, everything from arranging the seating plan for the reception and writing out table and place cards to catching up on thank you notes for gifts that had already arrived. Dan had made all the arrangements for their honeymoon, but she still had to decide what to pack.
It was encouraging to look at that to-do list the next morning and see how many items had already been checked off, but there were enough that hadn’t been to keep her busy well into Monday afternoon. She didn’t stop thinking about her father’s troubles entirely but, temporarily, she was able to push her worries about him onto the back burner.
Mondays the Emporium was closed, to make up for being open on Saturdays. While Dan was at work, Liss spent the entire day at his house, taking measurements and debating which pieces of furniture to keep. In the late afternoon, as she was standing in the kitchen, trying to decide between that room or the downstairs bath as a location for Lumpkin and Glenora’s litter box, a loud banging sounded at the front door. Then the doorbell rang and kept ringing, as if someone was leaning on it.
“I know you’re in there!” shouted a furious female voice Liss didn’t recognize. “Open up!”
Curiosity drove her to a window that overlooked the porch. Two people stood just outside—Willa Somener and Gabe Treat. Willa looked ready to spit nails. If Gabe hadn’t been radiating calm tolerance, Liss might not have risked letting them in.
“What seems to be the problem?” she asked when she’d opened the door to confront them.
“You’re the problem!” Willa snapped. “I lost my job because of you.” She pushed past Liss into the house, entered the living room, and plunked herself down on Dan’s sofa.
Gabe, following, gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about this, Ms. MacCrimmon. She insisted on tracking you down. When Willa’s determined on something, it’s best not to get in her way.”
“Yes, my father follows the same rule of thumb with my mother. Well, come on in. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Soda?”
“We won’t stay long,” Gabe assured her, but he took a seat beside his girlfriend.
Liss remained standing, bracing her back against the side of the entertainment center Dan had built. Closed doors hid the television and the shelf underneath where the DVD player lived. Custom-made drawers held an assortment of movies and favorite TV series. Dan had an inexplicable fondness for Monty Python.
Willa appeared to be stewing. Liss wasn’t sure what her problem was, but it obviously affected her deeply. “You said you lost your job?” she prompted. “What job?”
“Work-study.” Willa spat out the words. “And I need that income to pay for my textbooks.”
“Okay,” Liss said slowly. “I’m still not following. What did I have to do with you being fired?”
“You told Professor Halladay about Gabe! And then she accused me of fraternizing with the enemy.” Willa burst into tears and buried her face on Gabe’s shoulder.
Liss handed her a box of tissue
s and waited out the storm.
It took a while to pass. The young woman was obviously very upset, but Liss didn’t know what she could do to help her. The implication that she’d deliberately ratted Willa out was as unfounded as it was irrational.
“I’m sorry for your troubles,” Liss said when she was reasonably certain Willa was calm enough to pay attention, “but I had no idea I was giving away state secrets. I met you and Gabe on separate occasions. I didn’t know you two were an item. And I certainly couldn’t have guessed that Dr. Halladay would react so strongly to finding out that your boyfriend’s grandfather was one of the protestors.”
Willa sniffed loudly. “I lost my job.”
“Yes, you said that.” Liss hesitated, then gave in to the impulse to be helpful. “I might be able to offer you an alternative. If you’re going to be free during the highland games, I could use another pair of hands at the Scottish Emporium booth.”
“Really?” The sun came out from behind the clouds as Willa smiled.
“Really. But aren’t you still part of the medieval conclave?”
“Not anymore.” The rain clouds regrouped and she sniffled in an attempt to hold back more weeping. “I’m not enrolled in any classes this summer. I was supposed to be Dr. Halladay’s assistant for the whole semester, but I was going to get course credit for taking part in the reenactment. Now that’s cancelled, too.” On the last few words her voice rose perilously close to a wail.
“Shhhh, hon. It will be okay.”
“Oh, Gabe! Everything is ruined! And she doesn’t even care that Professor Palsgrave is dead. She’ll probably dance at his funeral. She thought his theory was n-n-nonsense anyway. She only went along with it because he got that big grant and was willing to share it with the conclave. She said reflected glory was better than no glory at all.”
“Now, now,” he murmured, patting her on the back with one big paw of a hand when she once more dissolved into tears.
Liss cleared her throat. Darned if she didn’t feel guilty about Willa’s situation. And, guilt aside, she was in a position to help out. “Willa, pay attention. If the gig at the games works out, I can offer you employment during the last part of July and the first half of August—three weeks in all.”
Liss’s parents had volunteered to keep the Emporium open while she and Dan were away on their honeymoon, but Liss was sure they’d be delighted to have help while she was gone.
“Three weeks?” Willa sounded bemused but interested.
Liss nodded. “I’m getting married during the conclave. It’s not an official event on the program or anything, but I’ll be wearing a medieval gown and . . . well, anyway, we moved our venue to the hotel when the highland games did. While my new husband and I are in Scotland, my mother will be running Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. You’d be her assistant.”
“That’s so romantic.” The sparkle in Willa’s eyes no longer came from tears. “Are you having a handfasting ceremony?”
“No,” Liss said firmly, “but here’s some good news: you and my mom are going to get along very well indeed.”
She gave Willa and Gabe a brief overview of what working the Emporium’s booth at the highland games entailed and then, never one to question good fortune, decided that she might as well take advantage of the fact that Willa had come to her. She crossed the room to take the chair at right angles to the sofa where Willa and Gabe sat and leaned in until she could see the young woman’s face clearly. She’d back off if she had to, but for her father’s sake she’d take a stab at asking questions first.
“I’d like to talk to you, Willa. About the day you found Professor Palsgrave’s body.” She made her voice gentle, well aware that Willa had been through a traumatic experience. Liss had been the first on a murder scene herself. Twice. She didn’t wish that horror on anyone.
Willa slid closer to Gabe. “I don’t even like to think about it.”
“I’m not asking you to describe what you saw in that classroom,” Liss assured her. “Only what you might have noticed before you went in.”
“Is this really necessary?” Gabe asked.
“I’m afraid it is. You see, my father is one of the people the police are looking at as suspects in the professor’s death. Dad went into Palsgrave’s classroom that day, before the murder.” Struck by a sudden notion, she spoke without thinking, completely forgetting the promise she’d just made. “At least, he didn’t see anyone there. I don’t suppose it’s possible he overlooked—”
Willa’s near-hysterical laugh cut the question short. “There’s no way anyone could have stepped into that room and missed seeing there was something wrong. Blood was spattered on everything. And the body . . . it was covered in gore.” She shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
Gabe wrapped an arm around her shoulders and murmured soft, comforting words, all the while glaring at Liss.
“I’m sorry. I understand that you don’t want to think about that day, let alone answer more questions, but surely you don’t want an innocent man to be arrested.”
Willa sobbed harder.
It was Gabe who relented. “Babe? Come on. You need to help her out. She’s helping you. Fair’s fair, right?”
“What?” Understanding slapped Liss in the face and she reeled back. “Oh, no, Gabe. You’ve got it all wrong. Willa, the offer of a job stands. If you can’t bear to talk about that day, then that’s that. But I had to ask.” She made a gesture of helplessness. “He’s my father.”
After a moment, Willa’s whimpers subsided. With one last sniffle, she dried her eyes, looked straight at Liss, and nodded. “Family is important. I get that. What do you want to know?”
“Did you see anyone else around?” Liss asked, trying to tamp down her eagerness. “Anyone leaving the building just as you came in?”
Willa blew her nose, loudly, and tucked a scraggly lock of hair back behind one ear. “The police asked me that, too.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I didn’t notice anyone in particular. There were people around. Other students. Professors. Even a couple of the demonstrators.”
“The protestors? The same ones who were going to picket the highland games?”
Willa nodded. “They’ve been showing up pretty regularly just off campus. Sometimes they come on the grounds, but mostly they stay on the sidewalks.”
“She saw me,” Gabe interrupted. “We talked for a few minutes. I should have gone inside with her, but I had no idea—” He broke off, shaking his head.
Liss took Willa’s icy hands in her own. “Which demonstrators did you see, Willa? Do you know their names?”
The young woman glanced at Gabe, waiting for his nod before she answered. “Gabe’s grandfather was one of them.”
“Mr. Gunn must have been ecstatic when he heard that the battle had been called off,” Liss remarked.
“Hey!” Gabe objected. “Don’t go looking at Granddad for this. He’s way too feeble to have done much damage to anyone.”
“Do you know how the professor was killed?” Liss asked him.
“Well, no. But unless he was shot with a really lightweight gun, my grandfather couldn’t have managed it. Besides, I was hanging around outside Lincoln Hall most of the morning to keep an eye on him and I’m sure he never went inside the building.”
“Not even to use the restroom?”
Gabe’s carrot-colored hair and fair skin made it impossible to hide it when he was embarrassed. A dull red stain crept up his neck and into his face. “He’s got this bag thing,” he mumbled.
Liss took pity on him. “Willa, you said demonstrators. Plural. Who else was there?”
Again Gabe answered for her, rushing into speech. “It was a mixed group, one from each of the organizations who had problems with Palsgrave’s theory. There was John Jones. He claims to be one quarter Penobscot. Says he represents the extinct Massachusetts tribe that Palsgrave claimed Henry Sinclair wiped out. But I’ve got this friend who’s a full-b
looded Penobscot and he says Jones is as phony as a three-dollar bill. No Native American blood at all. Mike says Jones is just after free publicity for a book he self-published last year.”
Liss wished she were in her own house, where there would be a lined yellow legal pad and a pencil in the end table drawer. Lacking either, she started a mental list. “Who else?”
“The Columbus First protestors sent Louis Amalfi. He’s a good guy, but kind of flaky.”
“I’m sensing a theme here,” Liss muttered.
“Wasn’t there someone new that day?” Willa asked. She seemed to recover from her bouts of weeping as easily as she succumbed to them. The resilience of youth, Liss supposed, suddenly feeling much older than she was.
“Oh, yeah. The religious nut.” Gabe’s brow furrowed. “Barry something. He doesn’t represent any regular church, just a group that was upset because Palsgrave discounted the entire Templar treasure and Holy Grail business. You know about that?”
Liss nodded. “Some people believe that Henry Sinclair didn’t cross the Atlantic simply because he was looking for rich fishing grounds and a new source of timber to build ships. They think he was secretly a Templar knight.”
“A pretty good trick, given that the Templars were all wiped out more than a hundred years earlier,” Willa said.
The young woman was a history major, Liss remembered. “I don’t know about that, but I do recall hearing rumors of buried treasure in the New World.”
“Holy relics,” Gabe corrected her. His boyish grin put in a brief appearance. “The Holy Grail, in fact.”
Liss’s gaze drifted of its own volition to the drawer of the TV cabinet where the DVDs were stored. Inside, she was almost certain there was a copy of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Not quite the same thing, she reminded herself, but equally outlandish. It seemed to her that the picketers held beliefs that made Lee Palsgrave look like the poster child for rational thinking.
“Did you give the demonstrators’ names to the police?” she asked Willa.
“There wasn’t any need to. They were all still hanging around.”
Bagpipes, Brides and Homicides (Liss Maccrimmon Scottish Mysteries) Page 9