A Wee Christmas Homicide (15 page)

Liss listened hard. The only sound she heard was the distant hum of an engine. It grew even fainter as she stood there and finally faded away altogether.

Satisfied that the danger had passed, Liss risked turning on her flashlight—she’d left the back scrubber behind in the tub. A quick survey of the room showed her that the top drawer of the file cabinet was not quite closed.

She opened it, confirming the sound of the screech she’d heard while in hiding. A pity she hadn’t gotten around to checking the contents before she was interrupted. There was no way to tell now if anything had been taken.

Swinging the flashlight toward the desk, Liss caught her breath. She’d left the atlas there, open to the page Moss had marked. Now it was gone.

She shone her light on the floor, into the kneehole, even onto the single bookcase in the room. There was no sign of the oversize map book. The only possible explanation for its disappearance, illogical as it seemed, was that the intruder had taken it.

Sherri looked up in surprise when Liss burst into the police station. A glance at her watch confirmed the early hour. At this time of morning, her friend was usually still in bed. The sun hadn’t even come up yet.

Waving Liss into a chair, Sherri headed for the coffeepot. Liss looked as if she needed a shot of caffeine and Sherri was ready for a refill herself.

By the time she brought the two mugs back to the desk, Liss had covered Sherri’s papers with a two-page spread of DeLorme’s
Maine Atlas and Gazetteer.
All the cops Sherri knew, and most of the civilians, kept a copy of that same map book in every vehicle they drove. It was too easy to get lost on winding back roads without one.

“What’s up?” she asked, handing over the coffee.

The story that spilled out left Sherri alternately shaking her head in disbelief and gaping at her friend in astonishment. “Are you out of your tiny little mind?” she exclaimed when Liss finally wound down.

“I didn’t think there would be any danger. Moss wasn’t home.” Clutching the mug in both hands, she took a long swallow of Sherri’s coffee. She grimaced at the bitter taste and reached for another packet of sweetener.

“You didn’t think. Period. What happened to your common sense?”

“Hey! I was just trying to help!” After another tentative sip, she added still more sugar.

“You broke the law. I ought to arrest you for burglary!”

“I didn’t take anything!”

“You’d have walked off with the map book if someone hadn’t beaten you to it.”

“Maybe. Are you going to lock me up?” Liss gave the door to the cell a wary look.

“Of course not!”

“Then stop looking so…so…
official!”

Sherri felt like tearing at her hair. “I give up. You’re impossible!” No wonder both Gordon and Dan worried about her.

“I might have discovered something useful.” Liss spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact voice.

When she was right, she was right. “Tell me again about Moss’s atlas.”

“Look here.”

On her feet, bending over the desk, Liss indicated a section of the border with Canada in what was labeled “unorganized territory.” That meant it wasn’t part of any municipality. It was definitely out of Sherri’s jurisdiction…but not Gordon’s. Or Pete’s, for that matter.

“That’s the area that was circled?” Sherri asked “Pretty remote,” she remarked when Liss confirmed it. “There aren’t even any roads going into it.”

“That’s the point. I’ve been thinking. Dan told me that he saw a snowmobile out before dawn on the morning Aunt Margaret found Gavin Thorne’s body.”

Sherri could guess where Liss was going with this. “Don’t tell me. You think some smuggler came down from Canada on a snowmobile and killed Thorne, then escaped the same way?”

“No. Yes. Well…maybe. The thing is, I think it was a snowmobile engine I heard at Moss’s house last night.”

“Some people do ride at night. That’s why the snowmobiles come equipped with headlights.”

“Yes, but—”

Sherri held up a hand to stop her. “We know who it was that Dan saw. The snowplow driver saw him, too.” She filled Liss in on young Frank Preston’s thwarted love life.

Liss plopped back down into the visitor’s chair, discouragement plain in her slumped posture. “Damn. I really thought I was on to something.”

“Moss had this area marked for some reason,” Sherri said slowly, running one finger along the line that divided Maine from Quebec. There were hundreds of miles of open border with Canada, at least thirty miles of them in Carrabassett County alone. The spot marked on the map would make an ideal crossing.

“We know he had a source for Tiny Teddies,” Liss said. “Someone
could
have brought them into this country by snowmobile.”

Sherri tried to visualize what Liss was suggesting. The bears were small. A lot of them would fit into a pack, even more onto the size sled a snowmobile could pull. There was only one thing wrong with her friend’s reasoning.

“Until the night of the murder, there was no snow. No snow means no snowmobiles.”

Liss leaned forward, eyes glittering with triumph as she came up with an answer to Sherri’s objection. “Maybe the smugglers used an ATV. An all-terrain vehicle can go anywhere a snowmobile can,
without
the need for a foot of ground cover.”

Abruptly, Sherri stood. The sun had risen while they’d been talking. “It’s light enough now for me to check something out. You coming?”

Liss was right behind her as Sherri left the municipal building, crossed the town square, and circled The Toy Box to reach the back door.

“What are we looking for?”

“Tracks. Watch where you step.” Sherri kept her eyes glued to the ground.

She didn’t really expect to find anything. The idea that someone might have parked a snowmobile behind Thorne’s shop and gotten away on it after the murder was pretty far-fetched. There were no snowmobile trails going through downtown Moosetookalook. Then again, someone who’d commit murder would hardly worry about sticking to marked trails or following proper snowmobiling etiquette.

She kept an eye peeled for tread marks as well as for footprints.

“Would there be anything left after so many days?” Liss asked. “And don’t forget that Felicity Thorne and her workers have been in and out this way dozens of times since the murder.”

“I had to see for myself.” Lack of sleep, Sherri decided, was catching up to her. Of course there was nothing left to find. There hadn’t been even a few hours after the murder. It had been snowing hard all that night and into the morning. Blowing, too. Any tracks would have been filled in well before the state police arrived on the scene.

“Can we go look at Eric Moss’s place?” Liss asked. “There hasn’t been any new snow since last night. If there are tracks, they should still be visible.”

Sherri considered the idea. What would it prove even if Liss were right? On the other hand, there
was
something peculiar going on with Eric Moss. Sherri wasn’t convinced that it was tied to Thorne’s murder, but it wasn’t as if she had a lot of other leads to pursue.

“I guess we could take a little ride.”

Ten minutes later, they arrived at Moss’s place. It looked as deserted as Liss had described it, but when Sherri circled the building she could clearly make out Liss’s footprints coming in from the dirt road. On the opposite side of the house, approaching from the tree line, she spotted a second set.

“Did you walk over this way?”

“No.” Liss’s eyes gleamed with excitement as Sherri stepped onto the front porch and found another key hidden above that door.

“Looks like your intruder got in the same way you did, only using the other entrance. He or she never knew you were here.” Lucky for Liss!

Sherri backtracked, following the footprints from the front door through a stand of trees and into a clearing. There the signs were unmistakable. Liss had been right—the getaway vehicle had been a snowmobile.

“Now we’re making progress,” Liss all but danced with glee.

“Only a little,” Sherri warned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Why would an innocent snowmobiler search Moss’s house?”

“Why would a smuggler, let alone a killer?” Back in the car with the heat going full blast, Sherri turned on the seat to face her friend. “You shouldn’t read too much into this, Liss. You’re jumping to conclusions based on very little evidence.”

“So we’ll get evidence. Look, let’s say I’m right. Thorne was killed because he had smuggled Tiny Teddies in his shop. He got them from someone, probably Eric Moss. Can you find out if Moss owns a snowmobile or an ATV?”

“Liss—”

“What? How hard could it be? Both types of vehicle have to be registered, right?”

“Yes, but I can’t just go searching willy-nilly through state databases, not without being called to task for it.” Sherri drove toward town as they debated the issue.

“Can Gordon?”

“It would be easier for him to get access to that kind of information than for me to do it, yes.”

“So tell Gordon.”

“Tell him
what?
That you broke into Moss’s house?”

“You could show him the map. Tell him you have a snitch.”

“You’ve been watching too many crime dramas on television.”

“Then tell him you’re following a hunch. Just get him to check on Moss.”

Sherri spent the rest of the trip back to Moosetookalook in thoughtful silence. Liss was so certain she was right. Sherri supposed it couldn’t hurt to check the records.

“Let me see what I can find out,” she said when she pulled up in front of the Emporium. “I may be able to locate snowmobile and ATV registrations online. As for finding out who owns that parcel of land, this is Sunday. There won’t be anyone around to answer my questions until tomorrow.”

“What can I do to help?” Liss asked.

“That’s easy,” Sherri told her with a grin. “Stay out of trouble.”

P
atience had never been Liss MacCrimmon’s strong suit. She dealt with a handful of customers during what was left of Sunday morning and made final preparations for the pageant that afternoon, but she was itching to pursue the lead she’d uncovered. When Aunt Margaret volunteered to spell her at noontime, she leapt at the opportunity.

Instead of going home for lunch, Liss crossed Ash Street and continued on down Pine until she came to the corner of Lowe—Jason Graye’s house.

Official channels for finding out who owned the land Moss had marked might not be available until Monday, but Jason Graye was a real estate agent. Even though Liss hated to ask him for a favor, she felt a sense of urgency about the matter. If Eric Moss wasn’t the villain after all, then the same person who’d killed Gavin Thorne might be trying to find Moss. That could explain the search of his house. In any case, Liss saw no reason to wait another day when she could get an answer now.

“What do you want?” Graye demanded when he opened his door. He had a brusque manner in the best of times and his opinion of Liss was on a par with hers of him.

“Gracious, as always.” Liss’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Believe me, I wouldn’t bother you if I could think of any other way to get the information I need.”

“You intrigue me, Ms. MacCrimmon.” Graye waved her inside, chuckling when she hesitated. “I don’t bite.”

“My aunt knows I’m here.”

Both his eyebrows shot up at that, but he did not respond in any other way to her comment.

Curious, Liss took a look around her. Graye’s living room was stylishly, even luxuriously, furnished but everything had a sterile quality to it. The place lacked that comfortable, lived-in look that made a house or apartment into a home.

Shoving aside an instant of pity for the man, Liss reminded herself that although he probably wasn’t dangerous, she shouldn’t let down her guard around him. He had been up to
something
with Eric Moss.

Her reluctant host was a man in his late thirties or early forties with a hawklike nose, a slightly jutting chin, and thin lips. He stood an inch or two taller than she and did not appear to be in very good shape, although he was by no means overweight. Liss was not afraid of him physically, and she had grown accustomed to his rudeness and his tendency to push into everyone else’s personal space.

Graye was first and foremost a self-styled entrepreneur. He made his money handling real estate and he was good at turning a profit. His dealings might not always be completely ethical, but he was savvy enough to stay on the right side of the law. Most important to Liss’s mind was that he was familiar with properties all over the county. It was her hope that his knowledge extended right up to the Canadian border.

“I’m here about a parcel of land,” she announced.

Graye’s face brightened and his manner lost some of its aloofness. His voice was only mildly condescending when he asked if she was buying or selling.

“Neither.”

His lips pursed into a straight, tight line. “Then I don’t see why I should do anything to help you.”

Without an invitation, Liss selected a chair and sat. The cushion was rock hard beneath her and tilted back at an awkward angle. In the days right after her knee surgery, she’d have had to be hoisted upright again.

Muttering under his breath, Graye took the sofa. He did not offer coffee or tea. Just as well, Liss decided. She’d be leery of accepting. He’d probably spit in the cup.

Liss folded her hands in her lap and fixed her steady gaze on Graye. She had come prepared to use coercion. “Remember the night of the selectmen’s meeting? You had a conversation with Eric Moss out in the hall. You weren’t as private as you thought. Would you like to know what I overheard?”

“You expect me to believe you were eavesdropping and I didn’t see you?” He scoffed at the notion, but his eyes were wary.

“I admit I didn’t listen in intentionally, but I was sitting on the stairs that night after getting a drink of water from the fountain. I heard everything, and I saw you pass an envelope to Moss. A payoff, I assume.”

Graye’s laugh sounded forced and he looked uneasy. Liss cudgeled her brain. She needed to take advantage, now that she’d shaken Graye’s composure. He thought she knew more than she did. Guess right and he’d cooperate. Guess wrong and she’d be out on her ear.

She didn’t believe Graye was involved in the smuggling. He’d never have let Moss offer the Tiny Teddies so cheap. Besides, their whispered conversation had taken place only hours after she’d seen that newspaper item.

So, Graye had been paying Moss off for something else, but what? There was probably a connection to real estate. A tip of some sort? Moss did get around in his search for bargains.

Liss considered what she’d heard about Graye’s business practices. He’d been known to claim houses had serious defects—carpenter ants, dry rot, and the like—in order to get the owners to sell property to him for less than they might have gotten through an honest broker. He also kept an ear to the ground for building projects. He’d tried to outbid Dan’s father for the hotel, thinking to tear it down and erect vacation condos on the site. Once he’d even tried to buy all the buildings on one side of the town square. Some scheme involving senior housing, if she remembered right.

“You’re up to your old tricks,” she said aloud, hoping he’d fall for her bluff. “However, I see no reason to mention what I overheard to anyone, as long as you’re willing to share a little information with me.”

“You want in on my deal?” He couldn’t quite keep the astonishment out of his voice.

“No! I want to know who owns a certain parcel of land.”

“That’s all?” From his incredulous look, Liss wondered if she’d underestimated the scope of his scheme with Eric Moss.

“That and the answer to one other question.”

“Where is this parcel?”

Graye produced detailed topographical maps of Carrabassett County. Liss had no difficulty finding the area Moss had circled. “Here.” She tapped the spot on the map. “Do you know who owns this property?”

Graye’s beak of a nose twitched once as he stared at the map, making Liss wonder if she’d just put her foot in it. Was this the very property that had prompted Graye to give Moss that payoff?

“As far as I know,” Graye said carefully, “this land currently belongs to an out-of-stater. It contains a rustic cabin but has no running water or electricity.”

“Currently?” Liss repeated. “Who did it belong to before that?”

Graye allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile. “I owned it, briefly, before I sold it for a tidy profit. You see, I purchased that parcel for a song from a couple obliged to unload it as part of their divorce settlement.”

“What couple?” Liss asked, although she thought she already knew.

“Gavin and Felicity Thorne.”

Participants in the Twelve Days of Christmas Pageant crowded into Moosetookalook’s town square. The gala parade to The Spruces was about to begin.

It had taken some doing to find enough volunteers to carry trees, golden rings, and assorted birds, but Liss had managed it. Even Jason Graye pitched in, gingerly pushing the partridge in the pear tree on a dolly. The fact that this meant he led the procession undoubtedly had something to do with his compliance. So long as he helped, Liss didn’t care what motivated him.

The weather cooperated. It was another sunny day, warm enough that the snow had begun to melt rather rapidly. Too much of that would not be good for skiers and snowmobilers, but at the moment Liss was more concerned with the comfort of the spectators. Temperatures above freezing suited them very well.

A good-sized crowd also waited at the hotel. Gratified, Liss shooed her charges into the ballroom and a short time later took the stage to start the pageant. She’d assigned herself the job of master of ceremonies. For the next hour and a half she introduced participants and watched their performances.

The pipers, strengthened by the addition of the man Gordon had replaced the previous night, played with tremendous enthusiasm. A few in the audience clapped hands over their ears, but they were smiling as they did so. All except Stu Burroughs, who stood next to Liss wearing a pained expression on his face.

“You have no appreciation of the finer things in life,” Liss teased him.

“What?”

She shook her head. There was no sense trying to be heard until the music stopped. She studied the crowd instead, picking out familiar faces.

Liss’s neighbor, bookstore owner Angie Hogencamp and her daughter Beth stood off to one side. Beth had already performed and Angie had warned Liss that they weren’t going to stick around for the auction. She claimed she couldn’t face the constant inaccurate references to “teddy bears.”

Sherri, in civvies, had brought her mother and son. With them was Pete Campbell, wearing his dark brown deputy sheriff’s uniform. Liss wondered if Jeff Thibodeau had asked for help from the county, or if Pete was just taking a break from his regular patrol. Moosetookalook chief of police or no, Jeff was committed to spending the rest of the afternoon dressed as Santa.

As Liss watched, Sherri scowled at her fiancé. Pete’s expression became equally thunderous. Obviously they were still at odds about something.

Nearby, Marcia waited, looking anxious. The auction was scheduled to take place between the performance of the eleven pipers and the concert by the twelve drummers—members of a local drum and bugle corps. Marcia had a lot riding on this, Liss supposed, but there was no way she would lose money. She hadn’t paid all that much for her bears in the first place.

It dawned on Liss that she recognized almost everyone in the ballroom, even the ones she didn’t know by name. Those who were not residents of Moosetookalook had been among the customers who’d visited the Emporium in the course of the last few days. Mark Patton was present. So was Lovey FitzPatrick. She looked none the worse for her brief incarceration in the county jail.

On the far side of the room, Liss caught a glimpse of Aunt Margaret. She was working for the hotel this afternoon, still getting the hang of her new job as events coordinator. She’d been a huge help to Liss in making sure everything about the pageant ran smoothly.

Neither Dan nor Gordon were anywhere to be seen. Liss was pretty sure Dan was elsewhere in the hotel, just avoiding the bagpipe concert. She had no idea where Gordon was, or even if he intended to show up today.

Inevitably, thoughts of Gordon led back to Gavin Thorne’s murder. Liss hoped she and Sherri could get together soon and compare notes.

What did it mean that the area circled on Eric Moss’s map had once belonged to the Thornes? What did it mean that the intruder had taken that map? The location had to have some significance. An illegal border crossing suggested smuggling, but there Liss’s logical thought progression ground to a halt. She couldn’t connect the dots to produce a clear picture.

Her second question to Jason Graye hadn’t clarified matters in the least. Graye claimed he had no idea where Moss was now, or what he was up to. Liss didn’t trust Graye as far as she could throw him, but on this matter she believed him.

She glanced again at Sherri. Her friend had given her a bad moment after Liss confessed to sneaking into Eric Moss’s house. Until then, she hadn’t been too troubled by what she’d done. In fact, she’d been planning to tell Gordon the whole story. Sherri’s reaction had made her change her mind. Admitting to her local state police detective that she’d committed a crime would not be a good idea.

A burst of applause signaled the end of the first part of the afternoon’s entertainment. Clapping enthusiastically, Liss returned to center stage. She made a point of thanking each of the performers by name. That done, she turned the microphone over to Stu, who had volunteered to be auctioneer.

He wore a bright red sweater with
STU’S SKI SHOP
emblazoned across the front in big white letters. “Thank you, Liss,” Stu said. “Liss MacCrimmon, everyone!”

She acknowledged the round of applause but quickly left the stage.

“Our Santa, Jeff Thibodeau, will bring out each bear in turn and he’ll be passing the ones that sell down to our volunteer bookkeeper. That’s Patsy of Patsy’s Coffee Shop, folks. Don’t forget to stop in for her home-baked pastries and a cup of Joe.”

Patsy waved to the crowd. She sat at a small table next to the stage to record the prices and collect the money from the high bidders. Those who wanted to participate had already registered and collected numbered paddles to hold up when they bid. They surged forward as Liss pushed through them heading in the opposite direction.

Escaping the crush of potential bidders and enthusiastic gawkers, Liss reached an open space near the door. Sherri’s party was just ahead of her. Angie and Beth were already through the door and Jason Graye was right on Liss’s heels.

From behind her, she heard Stu start the bidding at fifty dollars. By the time she stepped out into the hallway, it had reached three hundred.

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?” Sherri hissed at Pete.

“Me? You’re the one—” He broke off when he spotted Liss. “Here she is now. Talk to her and then you can go home.”

“Be with you in a second, Liss,” Sherri snapped, and stalked away from her, chasing after Pete. He’d already corralled young Adam and taken Ida Willett’s arm. They were halfway to the elevator when Sherri yelled, “Hold on just a minute, buster!”

“We’ll be in the lobby,” Pete shot back, hustling his charges into the cage and jabbing the button. The door closed in Sherri’s face.

“Stupid…bossy…pigheaded!” Every epithet was underscored by the stomp of Sherri’s feet as she returned to the spot where Liss waited.

“You okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Both hands up, palms out, Liss backed off. “Hey. Don’t bite
my
head off.” She hid a smile as she experienced a flash of déjà vu. Not very long ago, Dan had said almost the exact same thing to her.

“Sorry. Pete has just gotten so pushy lately. I don’t know what to do about him.”