At the Medieval Scottish Conclave, signs in the “ye olde” tradition pointed tourists to various WORSHIPFUL COMPANIES. The occupants of each tent were hard at work, demonstrating how various goods had been made in the distant past. If any passerby showed the slightest interest, the reenactors launched into detailed explanations of what they were doing and why.
Hard by the blacksmith’s shop, Liss encountered a display of swords and knives. Flyers printed by very modern methods listed the hours when Kirby Redmond would be giving demonstrations of fighting techniques using various medieval weapons. She passed by without stopping or picking one up.
In the next tent, a shoemaker hammered hobnails into the sole of a boot. Across the way, an apothecary had set up shop, displaying phials and vials in all sizes, shapes, and colors. A scrivener was hard at work nearby. His spiel explained that he wrote letters for people who could not do so for themselves.
A pie man joined the woman selling hot cross buns. To the background accompaniment of bagpipes being tuned and the more melodious sound of someone playing a lute and singing “Greensleeves,” he was loudly hawking his wares.
Everyone was in costume.
Liss silently applauded the results of Caroline Halladay’s efforts. Intrigued, she stopped to watch a tanner at work. The young man, another she’d never seen before, dropped a deer hide over what looked like an ordinary log that had been tilted to a forty-five-degree angle. Then he took up a large curved blade with handles at each end and began to run it over the hide’s surface.
“This is an unhairing knife,” he explained, seeing that he had an audience of one. “This hide has already been soaked in a solution of wood ash to loosen the hair. Now it has to be scraped before it can be tanned. Tanning is a long process—nine to eighteen months from start to finish. And smelly, too. The tanning pits contain a solution of tannin made from the bark of oak, beech, and birch trees and oak galls, acorns, acacia pods, or sumac.”
“Uh-huh,” Liss said, moving on when he started to explain the difference between a tanner, who worked on cattle hide, and a whittawer, who “tawed” the skins of sheep, goats, deer, horses, dogs, and even cats.
There was such a thing as too much information! She passed by the next tent, where the sign read WORSHIPFUL COMPANY OF GLOVERS AND WHITTAWERS, without stopping.
She was about to leave the medieval encampment and head over to the Emporium booth when she heard someone call her name. A couple hurried toward her, holding hands. As she waited for them to reach her, she studied them with undisguised curiosity.
It was the first time she’d seen Gordon Tandy and Penny Lassiter together, although she’d known for some time that they were dating. More than dating, from the look of it.
Gordon, who topped six feet by an inch or two, kept his thick reddish-brown hair cut very short. That and an ingrained military bearing made his occupation—state police detective—all too easy to guess. Liss had dated him for several months. She knew that he had a gentler side. It showed in eyes of a brown so dark that they looked black and in boyish good looks that made Gordon appear younger than his early forties.
Penny Lassiter, a medium-sized woman around 5’5” tall, was about the same age. Her build was wiry, except for very feminine curves, and her almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, small up-tilted nose, and pointy little chin sometimes prompted those who didn’t know what she did for a living to refer to her looks as “elfin.” They never made that mistake twice. Penny Lassiter was the duly elected sheriff of Carrabassett County, as her father had been before her. She had years of law enforcement experience under her belt.
“Liss,” Gordon said, “I’m glad we ran into you.”
“You’d have seen me later,” she reminded him. “I know you both RSVP’d to the wedding invitation.”
“True. We came out early to enjoy the games. But I was also hoping I’d have a chance to talk to you in private.”
Penny drifted off to inspect the wares of the glover and listen to his spiel—something about a seven-year apprenticeship and how he only tawed the white skins of deer, sheep, and goats, but not those of cattle or swine, which went to the tanner. Liss stepped aside with Gordon, seeking the shade of the cooper’s tent. On the other side of the canvas, that gentleman sang the praises of the barrels, baskets, and casks he’d made himself. He explained to a potential customer that he was making another wooden cask even as he chatted with passing tourists.
“I want you to understand that I’m not speaking officially,” Gordon said in a low voice. “In fact, I shouldn’t be saying anything to you at all, but I wanted to set your mind at rest. I know you’re going to be away for the next few weeks.” His lips quirked. “Consider this an extra wedding gift.”
“Okay. What is it I’m not supposed to know?” Behind her back, she crossed her fingers. She thought she knew what was coming and hoped she was right.
“Your father is no longer a suspect.”
“Yes!” She pumped both fists in the air.
Gordon fought a smile. “He was pretty well in the clear even before you went exploring in the college theater.”
“Well, I knew that,” Liss said, grinning at him, “but I wasn’t so sure that Detective Franklin did.”
“The blood on the sword had dried well before it was placed in the trunk of Mac’s car. Forensics took the trunk lining at the same time they confiscated the murder weapon. That information didn’t jibe with the idea that Mac had killed Palsgrave and driven off with the broadsword in his car. Not to mention that, if he had been the murderer, it would have been pretty stupid of him not to get rid of the weapon before he got back to Moosetookalook. He’d have had miles of heavily forested land to hide it in.”
“So what I found was just confirmation of what Franklin already knew?”
“Pretty much. All the results aren’t in yet.” His lip twitch turned into a rueful smile. “It takes a lot longer to process these things than it does on TV. But the blood type was right for Palsgrave and the shape of the stain on that mattress was dead on.”
Liss hesitated, then blurted out the question she’d wanted an answer to from the first. “How was he killed?” At Gordon’s bemused expression, she clarified. “Was he stabbed? Or . . . you know?”
“Ah.” He grimaced, but answered her. “Palsgrave was hacked to death. Your original argument about Mac’s arthritis also had weight with Franklin—your father might have managed to do that much damage in an adrenaline-fueled fury but he’d have been obviously crippled up afterward. All in all, Liss, you can stop worrying that Mac will ever be arrested for murder.”
“I don’t suppose you can tell me if Franklin has another suspect in mind?”
“Not a chance. Now, go get married.” He refrained from adding a warning to stay out of the investigation, but she could tell that the words were on the tip of his tongue.
She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I will. Thank you, Gordon. Excellent wedding present.”
While he went off to find his new lady love, Liss resumed her trek toward the Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium booth. She glanced back only once, smiling when she saw that Caroline Halladay had arrived and was pitching in to get the fire going in the blacksmith’s forge.
Everyone had said she was a hands-on teacher, and here was the proof of it. When she was satisfied that the flames were hot enough, she used long tongs to hold a horseshoe in the fire until it glowed red. Extracting it, she then hefted one of the mallets and brought it down on the metal shoe with a resounding clang.
Liss continued on her way and was pleased to discover that Willa and Gabe were already doing a steady business. She pitched in to deal with another customer, and for the next little while all her focus was on selling and building goodwill. It was not until there was a lull that she remembered Caroline and mentioned the professor’s skill to her crew.
“It was a very impressive demonstration,” she said, opening a bottle of water and taking a hearty swig. She hoped Caroline was w
ell supplied with liquids. She’d work up quite a sweat if she kept at the blacksmithing very long. “The entire medieval conclave is more interesting than I expected it to be.”
“It ought to be,” Willa said, grabbing a water bottle of her own. “Professor Halladay got big bucks to buy materials the minute the battle reenactment was cancelled.”
Slowly, Liss put the water down. In her mind’s eye, she once again saw Caroline swinging that mallet. “She’s got considerable upper body strength,” she murmured.
“No surprise there, either.” Willa was watching a browser turn over tartan scarves. When she started to head his way, Liss caught her arm.
“Let Gabe wait on him. Why is it no surprise that Dr. Halladay is strong?”
Willa shrugged. “Because she’s got that humongous exercise machine in her office, of course.”
The one Willa had earlier referred to as scary looking, Liss remembered. The one Alistair Gunn had mentioned as taking up half the space in the room. “It’s what?” she asked. “A bike? A treadmill?”
But Willa shook her head. “Dr. Halladay says she has to deal with a lot of tension. That’s why she meditates so often. And that’s why she works out. It’s one of those great big exercise machines that are supposed to build strength.” She put her fists together and then mimed forcing her arms apart against a heavy-weight setting.
Liss’s eyes widened. It appeared that she’d been wrong. Caroline’s loose clothing concealed muscle rather than flab. And, according to Kirby Redmond, she’d taken lessons from him, learning how to use a variety of medieval weapons.
Liss tried to tell herself that she was being ridiculous. Caroline Halladay was the one person who had an alibi for the time of Palsgrave’s murder. Murch had verified it with the history department’s administrative assistant, Norma Leeds. Caroline had not left her office during the crucial half hour. She couldn’t have done so without being seen.
Unless . . .
Suddenly Liss realized that Caroline could have managed it . . . if one of the trapdoors in the stage was directly above her office. At first, the idea seemed too far-fetched, but the more Liss thought about it, the less able she was to dismiss it out of hand.
“I’ve got to go,” she told Gabe and Willa.
“Have a wonderful wedding!” they chorused.
Liss promised she would, but she had something else to do first.
She had to find Gordon Tandy.
Chapter Eighteen
The grounds at The Spruces had never seemed so vast nor the crowds so dense. Liss hunted in vain for the first ten minutes. She couldn’t find Gordon anywhere.
She did spot Jake Murch. He was wearing a Royal Stewart kilt complete with a sporran to keep his wallet in. He was one of those men, Liss decided, who should not show off bare knees. She was almost desperate enough to recruit him when she finally caught sight of her real quarry.
Gordon was feeding a warm buttered scone to Penny and laughing as she took what was clearly her first taste of the delicacy. She had her eyes closed in sheer bliss. Crumbs landed on her shirtfront as Liss grabbed Gordon’s arm, jostling his hand.
“Hey!” he protested.
Liss didn’t let go. “I’ve got to talk to you. Now. I know who did it.”
Gordon and Penny exchanged a speaking glance. Then they both came with her. The three of them found an empty picnic table at the edge of the lawn near the tree line. Looking back, Liss saw that she had a clear line of sight to the forge where Caroline Halladay still labored, demonstrating the blacksmith’s art.
“Talk,” Gordon said.
“Caroline Halladay.”
His eyes narrowed.
Encouraged by the fact that he didn’t immediately dismiss her accusation, Liss kept going. “I know she has an alibi, but I think I’ve figured out what happened.”
“Go on.”
Across the table from them, Penny fished in her fanny pack and came up with a pen and paper. At Gordon’s nod, she took notes as Liss talked.
“Okay. Here’s what I think happened. I don’t have any proof, and I won’t even be in the country twenty-four hours from now, so I’m trusting you to convince Detective Franklin that the idea isn’t as crazy as it sounds.”
Gordon’s expression was skeptical, but he gave another curt nod.
Liss held up one finger. “Caroline Halladay was in her office the day my father visited Dr. Palsgrave. She overheard them quarreling.” A second finger went up. “She knew he had an appointment with Palsgrave on the day of the murder. I’m not sure how.”
“She answered the phone while the secretary was on a break.” Gordon shrugged when he saw Liss’s eyebrows shoot up. “Franklin talked to me about the case. We sometimes bounce ideas off each other.”
“Good. That’s good. I think.” She didn’t have time to picture Gordon and Stanley Franklin as brainstorming buddies just now. “So, Caroline could have made the appointment for a time when she knew Palsgrave would be teaching his seminar, if she was already planning the frame-up. And she’s an administrative assistant,” Liss added. “Norma, I mean.”
“Stick to the point, Liss.”
“Okay. Okay.” She was surprised to find her hands were trembling. Everything was falling into place, but it was happening so fast that she was afraid she’d leave out some crucial step and fail to convince her listeners. “Give me a sec.”
“Take your time,” Penny said, reaching across the table to pat Liss’s forearm. “You’re doing great.”
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“You’re fingering a killer,” Gordon pointed out. “It’s a heavy responsibility. And for once, you’re not doing it on the run.”
A choked laugh escaped her. “Will wonders never cease! Okay. Here’s how I think it went down. Somehow, Caroline knew Palsgrave planned to dismiss his class early that day. I don’t think he’d told anyone else that. Maybe Caroline’s the one who asked him to stay in the classroom, so they could talk out of Norma’s hearing. I don’t know. But what you just told me means she deliberately lied to me when she said Norma told her about the quarrel and the appointment. Anyway, she knew where the sword was. It was her idea to set up the display in my shop window in the first place. She stole the sword, intending to use it to frame my father.”
“How did she get into the Emporium?” Penny asked.
Gordon answered before Liss could. “A ten-year-old kid with a piece of plastic could break into Liss’s store.”
Liss made a face at him, but she didn’t dispute the assessment. “Caroline planned to be in her office when my father arrived for his appointment, so she could suggest to him that he check the classroom.” She frowned. “Or not. That part’s a little fuzzy, because how could she know that Palsgrave wouldn’t be there?”
“Maybe it didn’t matter one way or the other if your father met up with Palsgrave,” Penny ventured.
Liss had already considered that possibility. If they’d met, would anything have changed? Either Mac’s apology would have been accepted or they’d have quarreled again. Either way, Palsgrave would still have been a sitting duck once Mac left.
“There’s one big problem with Caroline Halladay as the killer, Liss,” Gordon said quietly, “even if she did make the appointment for your father and then lie about it. She has an alibi. She was in her office at the time of the murder.”
“But that’s just it. That’s what I realized.” She explained about the trapdoors in the stage above the old scenery shop, now converted into two levels of offices for the history department. “She could have gotten out through that trapdoor unseen. If she removed a ceiling panel, she could release the bolt holding the trapdoor closed and it would open downward. She must have hidden the sword in her office before the murder and taken it with her.”
“Whoa!” Penny interrupted. “I’ve met this woman. Are you saying she chinned herself through a hole in the ceiling?”
“Or she set a stepladder on top of her desk and climbed up.
Look at her.” She gestured toward the forge.
Caroline labored with little apparent effort. She was dressed as a medieval man. Sweat had her linen shirt clinging to her arms and torso, at last revealing the well-toned muscles that, until then, Liss had only theorized she possessed.
“From her office, she got to the stage, and from the stage she went through the art gallery to the classroom without anyone being the wiser.”
“Why a sword?” Penny asked, still playing devil’s advocate. “Come to that, why kill him at all?”
“One of the oldest motives in the world—money. With Palsgrave out of the way, Caroline scooped the pot. She got grant money for her living history demonstrations. As for the sword, I suppose she thought of that as a kind of poetic justice. After all, it was a hand-and-a-half broadsword that was punched into that rock in Westford, Massachusetts, after Henry Sinclair lost one of his men.”
“This is pretty convoluted reasoning,” Gordon muttered, but to Liss’s relief, he didn’t dismiss it out of hand.
“Caroline must have been nearby when my father left Lincoln Hall. As soon as Palsgrave came back into his classroom, she killed him. Then she retreated through the art gallery, entered the theater, and went up the stairs to scenery storage loft number two, where she stashed the sword. She probably had extra clothes hidden there, so she could change into an outfit that wasn’t stained with Palsgrave’s blood.”
Liss pictured Caroline in her mind. Almost every time she’d seen the professor, she’d been wearing a baggy tunic and slacks, both in neutral, unmemorable colors. She probably had a whole closetful of such interchangeable clothing. It would have been easy to substitute one nearly identical outfit for another.
“Leaving behind both the weapon and bloody clothes was a risk,” Gordon said. “If Franklin had searched the entire building—”
Bagpipes, Brides and Homicides (Liss Maccrimmon Scottish Mysteries) Page 23