Bagpipes, Brides and Homicides (Liss Maccrimmon Scottish Mysteries)

by Kaitlyn Dunnett

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Liss and Dan arrived back in town, Vi had conquered the worst of her hysterics and was sitting on the living room sofa, quietly sobbing. Liss took a firm grip on her own emotions. Her mother needed her to stay calm and levelheaded. She could always fall apart later. She put her arms around Vi’s shoulders and was shocked by how violently the older woman was shaking.

  “I don’t deserve your sympathy,” Vi whispered in a tremulous voice. “This is all my fault.”

  “Now, Mom, you know that’s not true. But you need to tell us what happened. Where have they taken Daddy?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. That policeman wouldn’t tell me. He tried to shut me out.” For a moment, she looked more indignant than devastated. “I have a right to know what’s going on. Mac is my husband!”

  “Did the police let him call a lawyer?” Dan asked.

  “I don’t know,” she repeated. “One minute the detective was talking to Mac in the kitchen and the next he was taking him out of the house and driving off.”

  “Was it Detective Franklin?” Liss asked.

  Vi nodded. “Terrible man.”

  At this particular moment, Liss was inclined to agree. Dan came back into the living room, having left to make a quick call on his cell phone. “Pete’s coming right over.”

  “Good. Maybe he can help us sort this out. And Sherri must know something. Surely the local police would be informed in advance.”

  “Why should they be?” Dan asked. “The state police don’t have to ask their permission to make an arrest.”

  “Courtesy? And it would have been nice to have given us some warning that this was about to happen.”

  “Would it have made any difference if you’d known ahead of time? Always assuming Mac didn’t intend to skip town to avoid arrest.”

  Liss glared at him in exasperation. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I just can’t help thinking that the arrest must have come as a terrible shock to my dad. He doesn’t hear anything for over a week and then, boom! ‘Hey you—you’re under arrest for murder.’ ”

  Dan started to say something, then turned away in relief as the front door opened to admit Pete Campbell. The fact that he was in uniform told Liss that he was on duty, or had only just reached the end of his shift. Either way, he was a welcome sight.

  “Franklin arrested Mac?” he asked.

  Fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, Vi nodded. “Just came in here and took him away.”

  “Any idea where they’d go?” Dan asked Pete.

  “Back to Three Cities, I expect. To the county jail there, since that’s where the crime took place.”

  “How do we get him out?” Liss demanded. “Will they set bail?”

  Pete didn’t want to meet her eyes. “Uh, probably not. Not if the charge is murder.”

  “You mean he’ll have to stay in jail until his trial? That’s preposterous. He’s innocent!”

  “They must have pretty solid evidence against him or the attorney general wouldn’t have authorized an arrest.” Pete’s honesty earned him a basilisk glare from Vi and a tight-lipped frown from Liss. “Hey, don’t kill the messenger! If the charge is murder, the accused stays put.”

  “I won’t accept that.” Liss strode to the phone on the end table. She only knew one lawyer, Edmund Carrier III. He didn’t specialize in criminal law, but he’d know someone who did. And he’d answer her call even at this late hour.

  Ten minutes later, Carrier had promised to check into the matter.

  The next half hour passed with excruciating slowness. Pete made a series of phone calls but was unable to discover where Franklin had taken Mac.

  “He hasn’t been booked at any county jail within a radius of two hundred miles of Moosetookalook,” Pete reported.

  “Where else could he be?”

  Pete was literally scratching his head. “No idea, Liss. Sorry.”

  By the time an hour had gone by, Liss was feeling desperate. “I’m going to phone Gordon Tandy.”

  “There’s no need to bring the ex-boyfriend into this,” Dan objected.

  “Yes, there is, when he’s also the state police officer for this area. I know he won’t be pleased to hear from me, but I’m sure he’ll help. And he ought to know how to contact Franklin, right? They probably have an in-house directory for phone numbers. Oh!” Liss felt her eyes go wide. “I’m an idiot! I already have Franklin’s cell phone number. It’s in the junk drawer at the Emporium.”

  Before she could leave the house to get it, her mother reached into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a twin of the one Liss had treated so cavalierly. “I forgot I had this. Well, there’s been a lot going on,” she defended herself when Liss shot her an exasperated look. “You forgot, too! No one can be expected to remember everything.”

  Liss snatched the card out of Vi’s hand and headed for the phone. Just as she was about to pick it up, it rang. She snatched it out of the cradle, relaxing only slightly when she realized it was Mr. Carrier on the other end of the line. He had no real news to report, but to the best of anyone’s knowledge, Donald “Mac” MacCrimmon had not been arrested.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Liss objected. She turned at the sound of the front door opening and felt her jaw drop as her father walked in the house. He was alone, and he looked vaguely puzzled to find the living room full of people.

  Everyone started to talk at once. Liss dropped the phone and flung herself into her startled father’s arms. “We were so worried,” she whispered. “I’m so glad they let you go.”

  “Let me go?” he echoed. “What are you talking about?”

  “The state police. Mom said Detective Franklin arrested you.”

  Watching her father’s face, Liss pegged his expression as incredulous, followed briefly by amused. Then the thunderclouds gathered and he put his hands on her shoulders to gently set her aside.

  Vi was back on the sofa, sitting ramrod straight with her features arranged in a stoic mask. Mac went down on one knee, even though his arthritic joints popped loudly and the action made him wince. When they were eye to eye, he took her hands in his and finally spoke.

  “Vi, you have to stop jumping to conclusions. Did you hear the detective tell me I was under arrest?” She shook her head. “Did you hear him read me the Miranda warning?”

  “No, but—”

  “What you heard was Detective Franklin asking you to leave us alone to speak in private. What I heard was you, in a snit, refusing. It was pretty obvious that even if he convinced you to leave the room, you’d be lurking just outside, listening to every word.”

  “I had a right to be there. I’m your wife.”

  He was more patient with her than Liss would have been. “Not in this case. And that’s why we went elsewhere—to the police station down in Fallstown—to talk. Just to talk, Vi. He had more questions for me and he didn’t want to share them with an audience.”

  That explained why no one had seen them, Liss realized. Pete had called around at the county level, since sheriffs ran the jails. He’d passed right over the local police department in the very same town as the nearest correctional facility.

  “So, you weren’t arrested.” Liss’s tone was flat.

  “I was not arrested,” Mac confirmed. “And we should all be relieved about that, right?” Patting Vi’s hand, he hauled himself up again, only to sink down onto the sofa beside her. “That’s not to say I may not be in the future, but for tonight the good detective just wanted to grill me without interference from my lovely wife.”

  “Do you think this is funny?” Vi demanded. “We were all worried sick about you.”

  Mac rolled his eyes. “There are definitely elements of humor involved, and I’d rather laugh over them than cry.”

  “We called a lawyer!” Now Vi sounded put out.

  “Oh, Lord! Mr. Carrier!” Liss hastily retrieved the phone, which still dangled over the edge of the end table. She was both
surprised and embarrassed to discover that the lawyer had not hung up on her. “How much of that did you hear?” she asked him.

  “A fair amount.” He, too, sounded amused, but when he spoke again, his voice was somber. “I think it would be a good idea if your father met with me first thing on Monday, Liss. Without your mother. I understand that he’s innocent, but even the innocent need legal advice when the crime is as serious as this one.”

  She made the appointment without consulting either of her parents. And when she told her father of that fact, she also informed him that she’d be driving him to Carrier’s office in Fallstown.

  Sunday, thankfully, passed quietly and without incident.

  On Monday morning, as Liss sat cooling her heels in the lawyer’s waiting room while her father talked privately with Edmund Carrier III, she began to understand why her mother had become so agitated over being shut out. It was frustrating not to know what was going on, especially when it concerned someone so close to her.

  The appointment had been for eight. The twentieth time Liss checked her watch, it was still moving unnaturally slowly. Mac had been in there less than an hour, but what little patience she had was already exhausted. She stood, ready to brave Carrier’s dragon of a receptionist and storm the portal, but before she could put her plan into action, the street door opened and the most average-looking man Liss had ever seen walked in.

  “Hey, babe,” he greeted the receptionist.

  “Good morning, Jacob.” Her tone sounded frosty but her eyes twinkled. Liss blinked. Was she flirting with him? The dragon, Danielle Phillipi by name, was sixty if she was a day.

  “I keep telling you—it’s Jake. Just plain old Jake.”

  Of course it was, Liss thought. Distracted, fascinated, she had no qualms about eavesdropping on the conversation. The waiting room was small. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know she was right there. They were just ignoring her presence.

  Jake put both palms on the desk and leaned in until he was almost close enough to give Ms. Phillipi a peck on the cheek. “Come on, sweet knees. You know you want to.”

  “Want to what, Jacob?” she asked in saccharine tones.

  “Call me Jake, of course.” And they both smiled.

  Another image superimposed itself over Ms. Phillipi and Jake Whatever-his-name-was. All of a sudden, Liss was seeing a scene from a James Bond movie—any one of them. The byplay she’d just witnessed had the same feel as the set-piece exchanges between Miss Moneypenny and 007.

  She had to turn her back on the couple at the desk to banish the illusion. The thought that she might be losing her grip on reality spooked her. Although she was staring through the window at the tree-lined Fallstown street beyond, she didn’t see the passing cars or the pedestrian traffic. Sounds faded from her consciousness, too, voices becoming as much a part of the ignorable background as the hum of the air conditioner.

  She didn’t hear the footfalls approaching directly behind her. When a hand touched her shoulder, she jumped.

  Liss swung around, fists clenched, and found herself face-to-face with the man named Jake. He was almost exactly her own height, but short brown hair and brown eyes and an unlined face made it impossible to guess his age. Suddenly, the eyes went hard and calculating. James Bond, she thought again, before she realized that he was chewing gum. The big pink bubble he blew completely shattered the image of the suave superspy.

  “You the guy’s daughter?” Jake asked her.

  “What?”

  “The guy in with Carrier—you his kid?”

  “Oh. Yes.” And why was she talking to this man? She answered her own question—because she was more rattled by recent events than she’d thought. “Excuse me. I’m just going to sit down. To wait. He shouldn’t be much longer now.”

  Jake trailed after her and took the chair next to the one Liss chose. “Jake Murch,” he said, thrusting his hand toward her.

  Automatically, she took it and shook. “Liss MacCrimmon.”

  “Well, Lisa—”

  “Liss.” The correction was also automatic. “L-I-S-S.”

  “Whatever. Carrier called me to come in. Thinks I can do a little legwork on your father’s behalf.” At her baffled expression, he added, “I’m Fallstown’s answer to Magnum, P.I.” He chortled at his own humor. “Murch, PI, at your service.”

  Appalled, Liss could only stare at him. This was Mr. Carrier’s investigator?

  Murch grinned suddenly, as if he read her thoughts. “No joke,” he assured her. “I’m the best you’re going to get in these parts. And since Carrier hasn’t called me in there yet, I may as well start working on the case with you. Want to tell me why I should believe your father didn’t off that college professor?”

  Feeling a little desperate, Liss looked to the dragon for help.

  Miss Phillipi shrugged. “Mr. Carrier has already filled Jacob in on the rough outline of the case. You should probably tell him what he wants to know.”

  It was a less-than-sterling endorsement, but at least it confirmed that Jake Murch was what he said he was. “My father was framed.”

  “They all say that.”

  “In this case, it’s true. The murder weapon was stolen from the display window in my shop and planted in my father’s car after it was used to kill Professor Palsgrave.”

  “And you know this because?”

  “Because my father is not a murderer.”

  “Circular reasoning, sweetheart.” Before she could explode, he pulled out a dog-eared notebook. “But let’s suppose you’re right. Who do you like for suspects?”

  Her eyes narrowed as her hackles rose. Really, he was the most annoying man! “Why do you think I suspect anyone?”

  “Because I did my homework. I know who you are and what you’ve been up to the last couple of years.”

  That was a sobering thought! Liss swallowed back her irritation, reminding herself that the important thing was to free her father from suspicion. If that meant sharing information with Jake Murch, so be it. She reached for her purse and the time line and list of suspects it contained.

  She’d barely turned them over to Murch before the intercom on the dragon lady’s desk buzzed and Ms. Phillipi announced that he should go on in to the lawyer’s office.

  “I’m coming with you,” Liss announced, getting to her feet.

  “Ms. MacCrimmon, Mr. Carrier only asked for Mr. Murch.”

  “Tough. He’s getting me, too. I’m sure that Mr. Murch will vouch for my skills as an investigator.”

  Mr. Murch didn’t appear willing to do any such thing, but short of tying her to a chair in the waiting room, he couldn’t stop her. She steamed into the office ahead of him and before either her father or Mr. Carrier could object, held up a hand, palm out.

  “If you don’t think I have a right to be here as a daughter, then let me stay as someone who can help find the real murderer. I’m the one with a list of likely suspects. I can save Mr. Murch a good deal of time and effort.”

  “Liss, I don’t want you involved in this,” her father said.

  “How can I not be?” She was prepared to enumerate the ways she was already involved, but she could see from his expression that he understood, perhaps more than she’d realized.

  “This is such bad timing,” Mac said with a sigh.

  She rolled her eyes. “Is there ever a good time to be accused of murder?” She took the chair next to him, in front of Mr. Carrier’s huge mahogany desk, leaving Murch to stand.

  “I haven’t been accused of any crime.”

  “Yet.”

  “I may never be. Have you considered the possibility that Detective Franklin is hesitating to arrest me because he sees the obvious frame-up as clearly as you do?”

  “I’m not willing to bet your life on it.”

  His lips quirked into the ghost of a smile. “Relax, honey. There’s no death penalty in Maine.”

  “No. Only life in prison. Are you willing to risk that on your faith in Franklin’s commo
n sense?” Liss shifted her attention to the lawyer. “What are the odds on my father being charged with murder?”

  Edmund Carrier III was an overweight, balding gentleman in his midfifties. He was dressed formally in a three-piece suit but his ruddy complexion hinted at outdoor activities on the weekends. “The attorney general could probably make a case now,” he said. “My best guess is that Detective Franklin is taking the time to dot his i’s and cross his t’s.”

  “Great. That’s just great!”

  Liss couldn’t remain seated. She was too agitated. She bounded to her feet and paced to the window, then moved back past the wall of bookcases filled with lawyerly tomes and ended up leaning against the door with her arms folded in front of her chest. She glowered at the three men indiscriminately.

  Murch, who had made himself comfortable in the chair Liss had just vacated, waved her list of names in the air. “You talk to any of these people since the murder?”

  “With Willa, Gabe, Caroline, and Norma, yes.” She gave him a brief recap of her conversations with each of them.

  “Okey-dokey.” He tucked the paper into his breast pocket and stood. “I’ll reinterview those four after I have a little chat with each of the others.” He tipped an imaginary hat to Carrier and Mac. “I’m on the clock.”

  “Okey-dokey?” Liss echoed, rolling her eyes. Feeling slightly frantic, she appealed to the lawyer. “Mr. Carrier, I—”

  He cut her off. “I know. I know. Murch doesn’t inspire a great deal of confidence, but I’ve worked with him before. He gets results. Think of Columbo.”

  “Columbo was a character on an old TV show. Real life is different.”

  “Less so than you might think.”

  “Let the investigator do his job, Liss,” her father interrupted. “He’s trained for it. You’re not.”

  It was the same argument she’d been hearing right along for letting the police handle everything. She hadn’t bought it then and she wasn’t buying now. Her resolve hardened. Rather than stop talking to people, she would come up with logical excuses to question the others on her list. She’d track down each of the demonstrators and anyone else she could think of with a connection to the case. Who knew what she might find out under the guise of casual conversation?