A Wee Christmas Homicide (4 page)

“I’ve been busy.” He looked away, then back. “Missed you, too.”

A moment of breathless silence descended. Then he crossed the requisite few inches to kiss her.

It was a splendid effort. For a few moments, the rest of the world went away. Liss forgot all about Daft Days and Christmas pageants and Tiny Teddies. She even forgot about Gordon Tandy, the other man in her life. Her hands went to Dan’s collar, smoothing the soft cotton between her fingers as she kissed him back.

A harsh whisper intruded on the moment.

“Sure took you long enough to get here,” Jason Graye hissed.

Liss froze. Slowly, Dan released her.

It took a moment for Liss to realize that Graye was not talking to them. Shielded by the banister, Liss and Dan were well hidden. She lifted one finger to her lips, warning Dan not to speak. Careful to make no sound, she turned her head until she could see that two men stood in the shadow of the stairwell.

“Came as soon as you called,” the newcomer said irritably.

Graye clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder and leaned in. He spoke too softly for Liss to catch a single word. She started to shift closer, but Dan caught her arm and shook his head. Reluctantly, she subsided. Graye’s demeanor piqued her curiosity, especially when she saw him pass an envelope to his companion, but she had no desire to be caught eavesdropping.

The whispering continued for several more minutes before the two men broke apart. Graye headed back into the town office. The other fellow left through the fire station. No one would challenge him. Moosetookalook had a volunteer fire department. Both the garage doors and the exit on the far side of the municipal building were left unlocked for their convenience.

“Who was that?” Liss kept her voice low even though there was no longer anyone around to overhear.

“Eric Moss, I think.”

Liss knew Moss slightly. He was a former delivery service driver who’d had a hard time making ends meet after he retired. Since he was already acquainted with all the local businesspeople and familiar with the products they sold, he’d been able to develop a reasonably profitable sideline as a picker. He located odd lots and interesting single items and resold them to shopkeepers who handled similar merchandise.

“What business would Moss have with Graye? Graye sells land, not goods.”

“No idea.” Dan tugged at her hand until she rose from the stairs.

His grip was firm, his skin warm against hers but Liss ignored the sensual tingle his touch produced. Wrong time. Wrong place. And she was distracted by an almost overwhelming desire to discover what Graye and Moss had been discussing.

“They looked furtive to me, sneaking around like that. Didn’t they look like they were up to no good to you?”

She justified her curiosity by rationalizing that any nefarious plotting on Graye’s part just now might have a negative effect on her own plans. She wasn’t about to let a slimy toad like Jason Graye mess with her pageant or the successful sale of Tiny Teddies.

“Graye always looks as if he’s up to
something.
It’s part of his charm.”

The sarcasm in Dan’s tone told Liss he didn’t really care what was going on, but she didn’t trust Graye as far as she could throw him. She hesitated outside the door to the town office, groping for the words to express her concern. She hadn’t come up with anything more specific than a gut feeling before Dan bent to give her a light kiss on the cheek.

“I gotta go, Liss.”

As quick as that, she banished Jason Graye to the back burner. Priority one was the welfare of the town, but number two was a more personal issue. She caught up with Dan at the coatrack as he shrugged into his L. L. Bean Maine Guide’s jacket. “I appreciate your support this evening.”

“No problem.” His expression somber, he wished her good luck. “You’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of you.”

“It will bring in business for all of us, Dan. I know it will.”

“So would a nice northeaster.” They had reached the entrance, which gave them a clear view of the expanse of bare ground that was Moosetookalook’s town square.

“We’ll get snow eventually. We always do.”

“It can’t be soon enough to suit me. I gotta tell you, Liss, the sight of all those tarp-covered snowmobiles sitting in garages and on the dead grass of side lawns is really starting to depress me.”

On that less-than-cheerful remark, Dan left for the hotel.

Liss sighed as she headed back to the Town Office. She’d see him at the MSBA meeting in the morning, but there had been a time not so long ago when he’d have suggested stopping by at her house after he finished whatever job he had to do at The Spruces tonight.

The lack of snow was depressing, but it was nothing compared to the lack of romance in her life!

B
y eight o’clock on Wednesday morning, twenty people had crowded into Liss’s living room. She had plenty of coffee ready, thanks to her own eight-cup pot, the large coffeemaker she’d brought home from the shop, and her aunt’s old-fashioned percolator, but she could have kissed Patsy of Patsy’s Coffee House when she turned up carrying two boxes of assorted homemade pastries—everything from doughnuts to scones to blueberry muffins. The smell of fresh baked goods had Liss’s mouth watering even before she lifted the lid of the first box to peek inside at the goodies.

“For this,” Liss told the pale, cadaverously thin genius-in-the-kitchen, “you get to sit in the place of honor.” A few minutes later, Patsy was installed the overstuffed easy chair, Liss’s favorite spot to curl up in and read.

Liss cleared her throat and waited for everyone to quiet down. “I’m speaking for myself, Gavin, and Marcia,” she began.

The two of them shared the sofa with Stuart Burroughs, owner of Stu’s Ski Shop. Marcia, considerably taller than either of them when they were seated, looked like a beanpole between two pumpkins. Liss had to work to dislodge that image from her head. It didn’t help that Stu, who had always been chunky but had recently put on quite a bit of weight, was wearing a blaze-orange fleece sweat suit.

“Okay,” Liss said, starting again when she had the urge to giggle under control. “Here’s the deal.”

A quarter of an hour later she concluded her pitch: “This will make Moosetookalook a destination shopping venue. People will come for the toy, stay over at The Spruces because they’ve had to travel so far, and spend money at all the shops in town.”

Liss stopped, feeling like a toy that had wound down. No, she decided, more like someone caught in an endless loop, repeating the same refrain over and over again. Fortunately, her words seemed to be having the desired effect. The board of selectmen had fallen in line and she had the expense check to prove it. Yesterday, even before the board of selectmen met, she’d won the support of the principal at the regional high school in Fallstown. She had been promised her nine lords a-leaping and her twelve drummers drumming, as well as some necessary props. She was still working on the milkmaids, the dancing ladies and the pipers, but she expected no problems finding them, especially now that the folks in her living room were talking to each other and nodding.

Stu Burroughs was the first to speak up. “I’m in, but only if I get a couple of these teddy bears to sell in my ski shop. I don’t suppose you’ve got any that are wearing parkas and carrying little skis?”

“Oh, I like that idea,” Betsy Twining chimed in from her perch on one of Liss’s kitchen chairs. “I want some teddy bears to sell in my place, too.”

Betsy owned the Clip and Curl, a combination beauty parlor and barber shop, located in the back half of the building that also housed the post office. Stu could have used her services, Liss thought. His hair was the flat black of a do-it-yourself dye job.

“Are you talking about selling on consignment?” Thorne asked.

“I’m saying you should sell me a couple for resale. Call it a good-will gesture among local businessmen.”

“If you wanted to sell teddy bears, Burroughs, you should have bought your own supply in the first place. Mine are staying right where they are.”

“What do you think, Joe?” Stu appealed to Joe Ruskin, Dan’s father, who had appropriated the Canadian rocker in Liss’s bay window. “Share the wealth, right?”

Liss had only to study the older Ruskin’s features to know what his son would look like in twenty years. Dan’s sandy brown hair would have a bit of gray at the temples—very distinguished. There would be more lines around his molasses-brown eyes. But he wouldn’t stoop, for all that he was over six feet tall, and he’d still have the muscular build that came from working in construction and owed nothing to exercise machines in a gym.

“Thorne has a point,” Joe said. “He was the one with the foresight to buy the bears.”

“Or his ex wife was.” Marcia’s mutter was just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

Liss sent her a repressive look, thinking that Marcia should be the last person in the world to look down on the idea of consignment sales. Marcia ignored the warning glance. Apparently she considered these extraordinary circumstances.

“I want at least ten teddy bears in my store.” Deliberately rude, Stu leaned in front of Marcia to glare at Gavin Thorne.

“You’re not getting them.” Thorne folded his arms across his chest but ended up looking sulky rather than resolute.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!
Nobody
has teddy bears!”

At the aggrieved outburst, everyone turned to look at Angie Hogencamp, owner of Angie’s Books and secretary of the Moosetookalook Small Business Association. Seated beside the small telephone table on which her notebook rested, Angie ignored the startled silence in the room. She fished in her tote until she came up with a small pencil sharpener. In her agitation, she’d broken the point of the pencil she’d been using to take minutes of the meeting.

Joe Ruskin cleared his throat. “You want to explain yourself, Angie?”

She finished sharpening her pencil before she answered him. “Do you have any idea how annoying it is to have to keep writing the words ‘teddy bears’ when those…those
toys
are clearly
not
teddy bears. Teddy bears are a very specific sort of stuffed bear. They have beads for eyes and stitched noses and arms and legs that move…oh, what do any of you care!”

Angie collected
designer
teddy bears, Liss remembered. She’d never bothered to ask the bookseller exactly what that meant, but apparently those who engaged in the hobby were particular about nomenclature.

She got that. No one could nitpick better than a person passionate about an activity pursued for pleasure. She saw the same thing all the time among those who had chosen to celebrate their Scottish heritage. Debates on the proper way to wear the kilt—and who could or could not wear one—had been known to go on for hours!

“Can we agree to call these bears Tiny Teddies,” she suggested, “and move on?”

Angie gave a curt nod and returned the pencil sharpener to her tote bag.

“Whatever you call them,” Thorne said in a loud, belligerent tone of voice, “the idea is to make it easy for shoppers to find them. Spread them out and you create confusion. Nobody wants that.”

“On the other hand, we do want to keep people moving from store to store,” Liss interjected. “The Twelve Shopping Days of Christmas promotion, with a ceremony every evening, will help with that. Then the pageant will draw everyone to the town square on the final day.”

She’d spent hours last night—who needed sleep?—working on the logistics. Each evening they’d add a new “day” to the festivities. The twelfth would now fall on the twenty-first of December, the beginning of winter. That seemed appropriate.

“How does the shopping days thing get them to stop in at
every
business?” Betsy asked.

“They probably won’t need my services,” Jim Locke of Locke Insurance commented, “and I hope there won’t be any call for Doug’s.” He and Doug Preston of Preston’s Mortuary sat side by side on two more of Liss’s kitchen chairs.

Laughter helped ease the tension but Stu wasn’t about to give up. While he continued to lobby for a consignment of bears and others tried to talk him out of his stand, Liss kept mum. Her gaze roamed over the rest of the gathered businesspeople. Her eyes locked momentarily with Patsy’s and the coffee shop owner sent a sympathetic look and a shrug her way, then mouthed, “Some people could find things to argue about till doomsday.”

At least they were discussing the twelve days proposal, Liss told herself. That was good, right? She resolved to let them have at it for a few more minutes before attempting to restore order and take a vote.

She jumped when something heavy bumped against the back of her calf. Liss looked down into the malevolent gaze of the big yellow Maine coon cat she’d inherited along with her house. Lumpkin glared back at her, obviously displeased by the presence of all these noisy people in his domain.

“Go back into hiding,” she advised.

She couldn’t blame the cat for disapproving of all this noise and confusion. Truthfully, She hadn’t expected to see him again until everyone had left. At the first sight of strangers approaching, he’d taken shelter under the kitchen sink.

When Lumpkin stayed put beside Liss’s chair, she reached down to scratch behind his ear. A deep, rumbling purr made his entire body vibrate.

Meanwhile, Stu had progressed to waving his arms in the air as he expostulated. With one particularly emphatic gesture, his hand came within an inch of the end of Marcia’s nose. She sent a withering glance in his direction, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“My toy store should be the only place to sell Tiny Teddies,” Thorne declared in a loud voice.

“You just want to jack up the price!” Betsy snapped at him.

“You say that like price gouging is a bad thing.” The wounded look on Thorne’s face was far too theatrical for anyone to take seriously.

Marcia cut short that incipient debate by rising abruptly to her feet. “If you idiots can’t agree, then I’ll just go ahead and sell
my
Tiny Teddies in an online auction.” She reached behind her for the coat she’d been sitting on.

Stu bounced up, ready to square off with her. “I thought you were in favor of this one-for-all and all-for-one deal?” Since Stu Burroughs was only an inch or two over five feet tall, going nose-to-nose with Marcia was a physical impossibility. He only succeeded in making himself look foolish.

Liss took a deep breath. This was going nowhere. Someone had to step in before the meeting dissolved into total chaos. “Enough!”

Startled by the volume she’d managed—all those years onstage had included more than dancing—everyone shut up. Lumpkin streaked back into the kitchen.

“I’m calling for a vote,” Liss said. “Yea or nay—will the Moosetookalook Small Business Association support this project or not?”

Dan Ruskin had taken pains to stay out of the fray, but as soon as Liss made her demand, he put it into the form demanded by
Robert’s Rules of Order
and asked for a show of hands. Liss had already told everyone how much money she needed. No one questioned her math, and the vote to authorize funding a group ad and a pageant was unanimous. In spite of their differences, Moosetookalook’s businesses were all desperate for customers.

A second vote, much closer than the first, left the matter of displaying and pricing Tiny Teddies entirely in the hands of the three individuals who actually had supplies of the toy.

That settled, everyone was in a hurry to leave. They all had businesses to run or jobs to go to. Even Dan did a rapid disappearing act, escaping before Liss had the opportunity to thank him for his help.

“Marcia, wait,” Liss called as the other woman made a beeline for the front door. She caught the sleeve of Marcia’s coat, drawing her back inside until everyone else had gone. “Are you still set on online auctions?”

“Why not? Good money there.”

“Also a lot of hassle. You’ve got to make sure the buyers’ credit is solid. Then you have to ship and insure the merchandise. There’s always a chance of something getting lost in transit.”

Marcia’s frown told Liss that her arguments were getting through. Who hadn’t heard at least one horror story about an online auction gone wrong?

“You can always auction off your Tiny Teddies at the last minute if they don’t sell here.”

“True.”

“And you’re free to price them as you see fit.”

“Also true. Okay. I’ll wait.” That said, she took off at a fast clip.

Liss wondered what her hurry was. Second Time Around was open only “by chance or appointment,” although Marcia usually hung out the
OPEN
sign around ten.

Lumpkin sauntered into the living room as soon as he was sure Liss was alone. “Why do I have the feeling,” she asked him, “that Marcia’s bears are not going to be sold for $9.99?”

Liss spent a few minutes clearing away coffee mugs and paper plates. She stuck the two remaining doughnuts into a ziplock bag and put it in the refrigerator so that Lumpkin wouldn’t eat them. He was an expert at opening cabinets, louvered doors, even the old-fashioned bread box on the counter.

Instead of leaving by the back door and crossing the driveway and a narrow strip of lawn to enter the Emporium through the stockroom as she usually did, Liss left her house by the front entrance so that she could dash across the intersection of Pine and Ash and pick up the mail before she opened the shop for the day. Moosetookalook was too small to have a postman who went door-to-door. Both Liss’s home address and the Emporium’s mailing address were P.O. box numbers.

She was just leaving the post office with a handful of bills and advertisements and a letter from a friend in her old dance troupe,
Strathspey,
when she heard raised voices coming from the house next door. Since the combatants were standing on the porch of The Toy Box, it was impossible not to overhear.

“We’re not married anymore, Felicity!” Gavin Thorne shouted. “You can’t just barge in here like you own the place.”

“You bastard!” shrieked the woman squared off against him. “You greedy son of a bitch! I’m the one who ordered those bears. You thought they were stupid.”

Thorne didn’t have to say a word. His attitude alone was apparently enough to infuriate his ex wife. Felicity Thorne stood facing the post office, giving Liss a clear view of her expression. Rage was not a good look for her.

Judging by the crow’s-feet around her eyes and mouth, Felicity Thorne was about the same age as her ex husband. She was carrying thirty or forty extra pounds but looked healthy as a horse. She had an air of energy and athleticism about her that made Liss think she could probably lift crates full of toys without breaking a sweat. An inch or so shorter than Thorne, Felicity had a wild mane of black hair just starting to go gray and dark eyes that were slightly tilted at the corners. Catching sight of Liss, those eyes narrowed in suspicion.