Liss’s thoughts had started to drift, but now her interest quickened. “Martin Edgerley? Is there any chance you saw him hanging around Lincoln Hall that day?”
Jones frowned. “Come to think of it, I did see him the day Palsgrave was offed, but it wasn’t there.”
“Okay. Where was he when you saw him?” Tonto had found a bush he liked and they stopped while he tended to his business.
“He was parked in the lot they call the pit. I saw him getting into his car when we were down that way. You know . . . picketing.”
“Was that before or after you saw my father leave?”
Jones’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure. I think it was after, but I wasn’t paying much attention. It was definitely before the body was discovered, though. I’d remember if it had been after that.”
Good enough, Liss thought, and moved Martin Edgerley to the top of her revised suspect list.
Chapter Seventeen
When Liss arrived home an hour and a half later, it was to hear that she’d just missed a phone call from Edmund Carrier.
“He wanted you to call him back as soon as you came in.” Vi had a vaguely disapproving look on her face and lingered in the background as Liss punched in the number.
While she waited for the lawyer to answer, Lumpkin and Glenora appeared as if by magic to let her know they’d noticed that she’d been away for the entire day. The small black cat wound herself so enthusiastically around Liss’s legs that Liss decided it was the better part of valor to take a seat on the sofa. Otherwise, should she take a step in any direction, she was likely to trip over the cat and wind up in a heap on the living room floor. The moment her new position made a lap available, both felines leapt into it. Lumpkin, more savvy and twice as large, made short work of shoving his “sister” aside. His rumbling purr announced his satisfaction with the result.
Liss was absentmindedly stroking a furry back by the time Mr. Carrier came on the line. In her peripheral vision, she saw that her mother now held Glenora cradled in her arms. Vi showed no inclination to leave the room.
She forgot all about her mother’s eavesdropping when Carrier explained the reason for his call. She was so surprised by what he told her that she had to ask him to repeat it.
“It’s simple enough, Liss,” Mr. Carrier said. “Mrs. Gaylene Edgerley has made a formal complaint about you to the state police.”
“All I did was talk to her,” Liss protested. “She’d already answered questions for the detectives and Mr. Murch.”
“That is precisely why she considers your appearance on her doorstep as badgering. She took her objections straight to Detective Franklin and Detective Franklin contacted me. I’m under orders to rein you in. You’re interfering in an official investigation.”
In her agitation, Liss tightened her fingers on the fur beneath her hand. Lumpkin made a loud sound somewhere between a hiss and a yelp, kicked her in the stomach, and abandoned her lap. She winced as she touched a hand to her midriff and made a mental note to clip the big cat’s back claws at her first opportunity.
“On the positive side,” Carrier’s voice continued in her ear, “you can take heart from the fact that the state police did question Mrs. Edgerley and her husband before you even knew of their existence. I take that to mean that they’ve been looking at other suspects all along.”
“I don’t understand why Mr. Murch can talk to people and I can’t,” she complained.
She heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “Liss, you’ve been a great help. You provided Murch with a number of useful suggestions. And I don’t discount that you found a thing or two on your own that he missed. Detective Franklin as good as admitted that he might not have searched the theater as thoroughly as you did. But for all intents and purposes, your father is in the clear now.”
“Did Franklin say that?”
“Not yet. He has to wait for the results of lab tests before he can make any official pronouncement. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“I understand, but I don’t like it,” Liss muttered.
Even if her father was in the clear with the police, the mud would stick to him until the real killer was arrested. Liss knew small towns. Early on, everyone had been supportive, but the longer the investigation went on without an arrest, the more people would look at her parents askance, even those who’d known them for decades. There were already sudden silences when any MacCrimmon entered a room where the locals were gathered. In time, the situation could well become so intolerable that it would drive Mac and Vi away for good.
“Show a little faith in the system,” Carrier advised. “In the meantime, don’t you have other things to occupy your mind? I believe your mother mentioned something about an orchid shortage.”
The flower situation was still cause for crisis mode the next morning. At ten, Vi invaded Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium with yet another report of dismal failure.
“It’s hopeless,” she wailed. “I found a florist who has miniature canary panda butterfly orchids but not a single one I’ve contacted can supply orange marmalade phalaenopsis in time. I don’t understand it.”
“Orchids need special growing conditions,” Gabe said absently from his seat in the cozy corner, “and they don’t bloom all that often.” He was reading one of the copies of John Jones’s book.
Vi had him in her crosshairs before he had time to draw another breath. “How do you know so much about orchids?” she demanded.
“My grandfather grows them.”
“Mom,” Liss protested. “I don’t think—”
“Hush, darling. Mother’s busy. . . . Your grandfather, you say?”
Liss wasn’t surprised to find herself en route to Three Cities again by eleven that morning. This time, however, she wasn’t going with the intent to snoop. Her mother was in the passenger seat. Gabe was in the back.
The stuffy butler let them in without argument and led them straight to the conservatory. Vi was in seventh heaven at the sight of all those flowers. Liss still couldn’t tell a daffodil from a carnation, but she took her mother’s word for it that Alistair Gunn had propagated exactly the right color in orchids. Vi flitted from plant to plant, uttering rapturous little squeals.
“Intelligent woman, your mother,” Gunn remarked.
“If you say so.” Liss knew she sounded disgruntled and made an effort to show more enthusiasm for the details of her own wedding. It wasn’t easy, not when Vi was clearly the one making all the decisions.
“Women weren’t so interesting when I was young,” Gunn added.
“Maybe you just didn’t notice, Granddad,” Gabe kidded him.
“Nope. All the ones I knew were dull sticks. Only interested in fashion and society. Nowadays, though, every woman I meet is full of surprises. You got this one here, hell-bent on proving her daddy innocent of murder. And then there’s that one there, who clearly knows her orchids.”
Liss hid a smile. Her mother had learned everything she knew about the subject by surfing the Web. Unwilling to disillusion Mr. Gunn, however, she let him keep his rose-colored glasses.
“Willa’s pretty unique, too,” Gabe offered.
Gunn gave a disbelieving snort. “Pale copy of her mentor, if you ask me.”
“Mentor?” Liss asked. “Are you talking about Caroline Halladay?”
Gunn nodded. “Now there’s a really interesting woman, one who knows a lot about the old ways of doing things. And you could have knocked me over with a feather when I walked into her office and saw what she had there.”
“An illuminated manuscript?” Liss guessed. “A medieval tapestry?”
“You see, that’s the thing,” Gunn said with a laugh. “You’d expect something like that. Or maybe a shield and crossed swords on the wall behind her desk. Nothing of the kind. She’s got this great, honking exercise machine taking up half the space in the room.”
Liss smiled, imagining a tiny office dominated by an exercise bike or a treadmill. She had no doubt t
hat someone of Caroline’s proportions would try to keep the pounds under control by a few minutes here and a half hour there on one or the other.
“She has one of those padded floor mats, too,” Gunn said. “She told me it was for meditating.”
“Yes,” Liss said. “I understand that she often meditates in her office.” From the look of the woman, she did more meditating than exercising.
Vi reappeared at the end of the worktable. Clutching two abundantly flowering potted plants, she wore a huge smile on her face. “These,” she said. “These are perfect.”
Gunn beamed with pleasure at the compliment, but his expression quickly turned stormy when he heard what Vi wanted to do with his precious babies. “Cut off the bloom stalks for a bouquet?” he yelped. “Are you mad, woman?”
Vi set the plants down, took his arm, and went to work on him in a quiet, persuasive voice. Liss caught only a word or two, but what she did hear alarmed her. She would have interrupted had Gabe not caught her arm and hauled her out of the conservatory.
“Hey!” she protested. “I had something to say to her.”
“Quarrel with your mother later. I haven’t seen my grandfather enjoy himself this much in a dog’s age.”
“She’s talking to him about holding a handfasting ceremony. I’ve already vetoed that idea.”
“Well, then, there’s no problem, is there? You’re the bride. You don’t have to do anything on your wedding day that you don’t want to do. Right?”
“Damn straight,” Liss muttered, but in her heart of hearts she wasn’t so certain. Violet MacCrimmon was a force of nature, capable of overwhelming the most vehement protests and sweeping them away. Any flotsam left behind was too waterlogged to voice further objections.
Twenty minutes later, they were on their way back to Moosetookalook with two of Alistair Gunn’s potted orchids carefully stored in the trunk of the car. When they had duly delivered them to the florist in Fallstown who was handling the wedding flowers, they returned home.
As far as Liss was concerned, the entire day had been a waste of time, but her mother was happy. Liss supposed that counted for something. Carrier and Franklin would be happy, too. Liss hadn’t done a single thing to interfere in the official investigation of A. Leon Palsgrave’s murder.
On Friday morning, Liss awoke with a hangover. The previous evening, after she and Willa had closed up shop, she’d gone toe to toe with her mother over the handfasting ceremony. She’d laid down the law. No silken cords. No anvil. No broom. And definitely no sword.
Vi had burst into tears.
An hour after that, at the wedding rehearsal, they’d both pretended that everything was just fine. That was the only way either of them could have survived both the rehearsal and the supper afterward.
Now Liss stared forlornly at her bloodshot eyes in the mirror. She’d imbibed a bit too freely of the champagne Joe Ruskin had provided. She had a feeling she’d be paying for that overindulgence for the rest of the day.
The sight of the rumpled bed behind her, now in possession of Lumpkin and Glenora, tempted her to return to oblivion. What would it matter if she caught a few more hours of sleep? But the strong work ethic that had been instilled in her from childhood, by both her mother and her father, propelled her to her closet and got her dressed. She had a great deal to do on this, the day before her wedding.
With Willa’s help, she packed up the items slated to go to the hotel for the Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium booth at the Western Maine Highland Games. By four in the afternoon, when they put out the CLOSED sign, everything had been loaded into two trucks—Dan’s and Gabe’s. Ten minutes later, they were parked on the hotel grounds next to the space Liss had been assigned. Their first task was to erect the sturdy canvas tent with its roll-up sides, a purchase Aunt Margaret had made years ago for just such occasions as this one.
Similar tents and a smattering of awnings had already sprung up on every side. Cheerful shouts, the steady thwack of hammers pounding in nails on the stage being erected for the dance competition, and the sounds of bagpipers tuning up filled the air. Just a glimpse of Janice Eccles, a.k.a. the Scone Lady, setting up her portable oven, made Liss’s mouth water. Except for the dignified old hotel rising in the background, the grounds would soon have the look, feel, sound, and smell of every other Scottish festival Liss had ever attended.
“Are you nervous?” Willa asked as they set up a display of kilt pins and other clan jewelry.
“About what?” Liss asked, stepping back to study the effect.
Willa giggled. “Your wedding. That is why the gazebo is decorated with flowers, isn’t it?”
Liss felt herself flush. For a moment, she’d actually forgotten she was marrying Dan the next day. She glanced toward the gazebo and started to smile. It did look gorgeous. “Yes, indeed,” she murmured. “Tomorrow is the big day.”
Her headache had disappeared without her noticing. So had any trepidation about getting married with an unsolved murder hanging over her head. Franklin had the investigation under control. Liss had the Emporium booth in order. All was right with the world.
Willa, shading her eyes to see better as she surveyed their surroundings, suddenly frowned.
Liss followed the direction of her gaze. The Medieval Scottish Conclave contingent had arrived. They were just starting to set up their tents, far more ornate structures than those used by most of the exhibitors and vendors. In the course of the next hour, that section of the grounds came to more closely resemble a Renaissance Faire than a Scottish festival.
The program had called the displays living history and contained a list of all the crafts that would be represented. Caroline Halladay’s students would be out in full force. Did Willa regret not being part of that? Liss wondered. For the first time, she also considered the possibility that Willa’s rift with Dr. Halladay might have seriously damaged the young woman’s future in the field of history.
She started to ask about Willa’s plans for the next semester, then thought better of raising uncomfortable topics. Willa was placidly unpacking boxes. Remembering how quickly her moods could shift, Liss decided to leave well enough alone. Later, after she returned from Scotland, she’d see what she could do for her. Perhaps student and mentor could be reconciled. After all, Professor Halladay had already admitted, when she’d talked to Liss in Margaret’s office, that she’d overreacted to learning that Willa’s boyfriend and Alistair Gunn’s grandson were one and the same.
On Saturday morning, Liss’s wedding day, the bride-tobe was up at the crack of dawn. It didn’t take her long to get ready to go out to the hotel. She planned to wear her hair loose under a circlet of flowers, so all she had to do was make sure it was clean. She’d never been one for heavy makeup, so that took only a few minutes to attend to. Once she’d fed the cats and dawdled over toast and coffee, she still had hours to fill.
“I’m going out to the hotel,” she announced when her parents appeared in the kitchen. Apparently neither of them were experiencing any bridal jitters. She was happy for them, but too impatient to sit still while they billed and cooed at each other.
Vi glanced at the kitchen clock. “It’s too early,” she protested.
“I’ll take my dress out and leave it in the room Joe booked for us to change in. Then I’m going to take a walk around the grounds. I want to check the Emporium booth and make sure there aren’t any last minute problems.”
“Leave the girl be,” Mac said. “She needs to keep busy.”
“Really, Liss, just this one day, couldn’t you let someone else worry about the business?”
“I’m not worried, Mom. Willa and Gabe will be fine without my supervision. But I’ll be climbing the walls by the time I’m scheduled to say my vows if I don’t have something to occupy my time.”
Reluctantly, Vi let her go. She had plenty to do herself, Liss knew, starting with an appointment at the most expensive hair stylist’s salon in Fallstown. For her only daughter’s wedding, Betsy Twining at
the Clip and Curl, a shop that shared space with the Moosetookalook post office, just wasn’t good enough for Vi MacCrimmon.
By the time Liss arrived at The Spruces, the main parking lot was already full and the overflow was being directed onto an open section of lawn. Fortunately, wedding parking would have its own space—the staff parking lot.
Liss made short work of stashing her gown and shoes. Thanks to Vi’s organizational skills, there was nothing more she had to do before she actually got dressed. The flowers were ready. So was the cake. And the hotel’s kitchen staff was even now preparing the food they’d serve after Liss and Dan exchanged their vows.
She had more than two hours to kill.
Her route from the hotel to the Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium booth took her through the medieval conclave tents. She heard them before she saw them. In the best tradition of London street vendors, someone was calling out, “Hot cross buns! Get your hot cross buns!”
The clang of metal against metal and the smell of smoke gave her the location of the smithy, a shedlike structure made of wood. A young man she didn’t know was manning the bellows, attempting to get a fire going in a stone-lined pit. So far, only wisps of smoke drifted up toward the opening in the roof.
The interior of the smithy had the look of a stage set. Hooks hammered into the back wall held a variety of implements, everything from mallets to long-handled tongs. On a small table were an assortment of horseshoes, some rather strangely shaped, as if the blacksmith who’d made them hadn’t yet mastered his craft.
The other medieval craftsmen operated out of tents. Liss had never seen anything quite like the displays spread out before her. The closest she’d come had been on a long-ago visit to Maine’s Common Ground Fair. There had been a blacksmith and a leatherworker there, too, and scores of crafters. She remembered that she’d bought a handmade trainman’s cap from a vendor that day . . . and watched the llama drill team perform.
Bagpipes, Brides and Homicides (Liss Maccrimmon Scottish Mysteries) Page 22