The Corpse Wore Tartan (19 page)

“You convinced Rhonda and Sadie to leave the hotel with you on snowshoes so you could get away from Phineas?” Liss asked a second before Sherri could.

Dilys nodded. “I was trying to avoid the man I
thought
was Phineas. The surviving twin. I was afraid he'd see me as a threat, since I knew about the passport and all. I was scared when he cornered me in the locker room at noontime today. But when I saw him close up, I realized that he
wasn't
Phineas. That's when I really panicked.”

“Did he know you recognized him?” Sherri asked.

“I don't think so. I tried not to let on.”

“You're sure he didn't guess? Why else would he kidnap you?”

“I…I don't know. All I know is that as soon as he was sure there was nobody else around, he grabbed me and took my passkey and opened the pocket doors and dragged me into the east wing and tied me up.” Her voice rose higher with every word.

Liss believed her. All of it, including the fact that Phil had been pretending to be Phineas. He'd even adopted Phineas's annoying habit of addressing people as “kiddies.”

“Do you suppose Phil planned to kill Phineas all along?” she asked Sherri.

“Can you think of any other reason why he'd have copies of Phineas's passport and driver's license?”

“He's a monster!” Dilys sobbed. She grabbed Liss's arm in a bruising grip. “He told me he was going to see to it that I was blamed for the murder. That he'd make my death look like a suicide, like I'd killed myself out of guilt for killing Phil.”

“And Rhonda would have confirmed that you'd told her that you'd
like
to kill him,” Liss murmured.

“He was gloating when he tied me up. I bet if he'd known I was in the hotel to begin with, he'd have set me up to take the blame for the murder right from the start.” Dilys shuddered convulsively.

“But why?” Sherri asked. “Why did Phil want to take Phineas's place?”

“Phil was in financial trouble,” Liss mused aloud, “but there was a trust fund. If Phil took Phineas's place, then that money would be his, plus he'd have a clean slate. No bankruptcy in his future. No debts to settle.”

“But why kill Phineas here? And why in such a brutal way?” Sherri's complexion took on a greenish tinge, making Liss glad she'd never had to look at the body herself. “Dilys, did Phil say anything to you about what his original plan was?”

Dilys shook her head.

But Liss was remembering something else. “Suicide,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Remember? When I first heard how he'd died, my first thought was
skean dhu—just big enough for a Scot to slit his own throat with.
And I
thought
that because only that afternoon, Phil and Eunice made sure I overheard them bantering about Phil being the one who kept his skean dhu sharp while Phineas's was always dull.”

“That doesn't make sense. If a death is ruled a suicide, life insurance companies won't pay up.”

“Trust fund,” Liss repeated. “Maybe he didn't care if he left Eunice broke.”

“He doesn't care about anybody,” Dilys said. “He'd have killed me as easy as he'd lop the head off a chicken.” She looked as if she might be sick.

“You need to rest,” Sherri said. “Don't worry. You're safe now.” She stood and Liss followed suit.

“You're leaving me here alone?” Panic sent Dilys's voice up an octave.

“Pete Campbell will stand guard right outside your door until we have Phil MacMillan in custody. You have my word on it.”

Dilys still looked terrified.

“We could find Rhonda for you,” Liss offered.

But Dilys shook her head. “No thanks. I don't think I'm up to explaining all this to her just yet. My cousin's a little slow on the uptake on her best day.”

Back in the hall, Sherri used her walkie-talkie to contact Pete and ask him to meet them on the second floor. Then she sagged against the wall to wait for him. “It's a pretty crazy story.”

“But you believe her.”

“How can I not? Somebody tied her up and stuffed her in that closet.”

“Phineas is missing,” Pete reported, jogging toward them. “If you were hoping to talk to him again, you're out of luck.”

“No,” Sherri said. “Phineas is dead. Phil is the one who's missing.”

Pete gave a low whistle and listened in amazement as Sherri repeated everything Dilys had told them.

“He has to be somewhere in the hotel,” Sherri added. “The storm's still going strong. It's not fit weather out there for man nor beast.”

“Got that right,” Pete said. Suddenly struck by a thought, he asked, “Did Dan get back with the clothesline and that handkerchief? Last I heard, he was on his way out of the east wing, but that was a while ago.”

“We haven't seen him,” Sherri said. She tried the walkie-talkie, but there was something wrong with it.

Pete fiddled his with his unit, but got no better results. “It's acting like someone's
TALK
button is stuck.”

Liss tried not to panic, but she had a bad feeling about this development. It wasn't like Dan to disappear, not when he had to know she'd worry.

Ten minutes later, Liss's worst fear was confirmed. A voice came over the walkie-talkie, faint but distinct.

“Stop playing possum, Ruskin,” Phil MacMillan said. “I didn't hit you that hard.”

L
iss listened in growing horror as Phil's voice faded in and out. He was pacing toward Dan, then away, muttering to himself. Most of his words were too indistinct to catch.

“Dan must be holding the
TALK
button down,” Pete said.

“Do you think they're still in the east wing?” Sherri asked.

“Must be. It he knocked Dan out, he couldn't carry him far. Dan was making repairs to the room at the top of the tower. They're probably still there.”

Well out of reach, Liss thought. Phil MacMillan was trapped, but so was Dan.

Then, clearly, they heard MacMillan say, “What the hell? Let go of that!”

A loud thump followed. Then silence.

“He spotted the walkie-talkie,” Pete said.

Liss's chest tightened unbearably at the realization that Dan's danger had just increased tenfold.

Sherri's hand shook as she held up her own walkie-talkie. “I can talk to him. Tell him we'll negotiate for Dan's safe release. But then he'll know for certain that we've been listening. I…I don't think he's rational.”

The walkie-talkie suddenly crackled back to life and Sherri had to clench her fingers around the unit to keep from dropping it.

“I know you're there,” Phil said, “so listen and listen good. You try anything and I kill Ruskin. I've got nothing to lose. You hear me?”

“I hear you, Mr. MacMillan,” Sherri said. Her voice had only a slight tremor.

“As soon as the storm clears, I'm getting out of here.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. MacMillan, but be advised that the driveway is barely passable.”

“Get it cleared!”

Dead silence followed. He'd turned off his unit, ending further communication.

“Trees are out of the way,” Pete said. “Just a matter of plowing and sanding.”

“We can't let him take Dan with him!” Liss's voice rose the same way Dilys's had.

“Take it easy.” Sherri took Liss by the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “We need clear heads. Panic won't help. The first thing we need to do is contact the state police. They have people who are trained to handle this kind of thing. Meanwhile, we don't do anything to set MacMillan off. And we don't go looking for them.” She waited until Liss met her eyes. “Got it?”

“Got it. But you can't let them leave the hotel.”

Visions of high-speed chases, car crashes, and flaming vehicles filled her mind. She took several deep breaths, fighting to get herself back under control. Sherri was right. Panic was bad. She'd be no good to anybody, least of all Dan, if she couldn't think straight.

She leaned against the wall while Sherri made her phone call. She didn't even try to listen in. Any state police negotiator was miles away, and there was no phone in the unfinished tower suite. Of course she knew they couldn't go rushing in to rescue Dan without putting him at greater risk, but there had to be
something
they could do.

“Eunice,” she said aloud.

Sherri had just ended her phone call with the state police. The scowl on her face changed into an expression of mild confusion. “What?”

“Eunice,” Liss repeated. “I'm going to go talk to her. Maybe she knows something that will help us persuade Phil to turn himself in.”

 

Five minutes later, Sherri and Liss were standing in front of Room 312. “Remember what I said,” Sherri reminded Liss. “Let me handle this. You're too emotionally involved.”

“And you're not?”

“Dan's my friend. You're in love with him. Big difference.”

Sherri had been watching Liss closely. She'd never seen her friend so shaken, and they'd been through a lot together. Sherri had a feeling that if she didn't keep an eye on her, and include her where she could, Liss would go charging into the east wing in spite of her promise, too impatient—and too afraid of what Phil might do to Dan—to wait for the hostage negotiator to take charge.

Sherri pounded loudly on the door of the MacMillans' suite. “Open up, Ms. MacMillan!” she shouted. “This is the police.”

A weak smile flickered across Liss's face. “I bet you've always wanted to say that.”

“Of course I have,” Sherri agreed, glad to see even a brief return of Liss's usual lighthearted outlook on life.

The sound of muffled footsteps on the other side of the door killed the moment.

“Yes?” Eunice kept hold of the door with one hand while she brushed tangled hair out of her face with the other.

“It's about your husband, Ms. MacMillan.” Sherri pushed past her, using enough force to make Eunice stagger back a few steps.

“My husband is dead.”

Sherri reached the middle of the suite's living room and turned, one hand resting lightly on her holster. “No, he's not. Shut the door, Ms. MacMillan, unless you want all your friends in SHAS to hear.”

Eunice closed the door.

“Have a seat, Ms. MacMillan.” Sherri's tone made it clear this was an order and not a request.

Eunice sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. She looked from Sherri to Liss and back to Sherri, her eyes wary. Liss perched on the arm of the chair opposite.

“Jig's up, Ms. MacMillan. We know your husband killed his brother.”

“What nonsense is this?” Eunice's attempt to look insulted was not particularly convincing.

Sherri hesitated. If Dan weren't in imminent danger, she wouldn't be talking to Eunice. This wasn't her job. She'd catch hell for not waiting for the state boys to arrive, let alone for trying to badger Eunice into answering questions. But Eunice had already cut short a previous interview by threatening to lawyer up. Sherri couldn't let her get away with that a second time. Not when Phil had Dan. Her job wasn't worth a friend's life.

She read Eunice MacMillan her rights.

“You're arresting me? You've got a lot of nerve. You have no—”

“Your husband has taken a hostage, Ms. MacMillan,” Sherri said.

“No, he wouldn't—” Eunice broke off, realizing too late what the wording of her protest had given away.

“You needn't try to deny that your husband is still alive, Ms. MacMillan. Dilys Marcotte can tell the difference between Phil and Phineas just as easily as you can.”

Eunice seemed to wilt before their eyes. She sagged against the back of the sofa, her face contorting as silent tears coursed down it.

Sherri almost felt sorry for her, but she didn't have time to indulge the other woman. “Snap out of it, Ms. MacMillan. I need you to answer my questions. Think of the bright side. If you help us persuade your husband to release Dan Ruskin, things will go easier on you.”

“Why would he listen to me?” Eunice continued to sob.

That was not what Sherri wanted to hear.

Liss had restrained herself so far, letting Sherri do all the talking, but now she leaned over and, a bit awkwardly, patted the other woman on the shoulder. “You're his wife, Eunice. His helpmeet. His partner. I'm sure you have more influence with him than you realize.”

“A lot you know.” Eunice swiped at the moisture on her face. Her voice was brittle and full of bitterness. “He married me for my money. It's always money with Phil. You wouldn't believe how furious he was when he asked Phineas for help…financial help. .and Phineas flat-out refused.”

“Is that when Phil decided to kill his brother and take his place?” Sherri asked.

Eunice stared into space for a long moment. Then she drew in a deep breath and turned a sharp-eyed gaze on Sherri. Clearly, she was no longer wavering on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Sherri had to wonder if she ever had been.

With icy-cold clarity, Eunice MacMillan laid out her price for cooperating with the police. At the top of the list was immunity from prosecution.

Sherri kept her face expressionless and her voice bland and boldly told a blatant lie. “That can be arranged, Ms. MacMillan, if you'll help us right now by telling us all you know. We don't know how much time we have before the storm lets up and Phil tries to leave the hotel.”

Eunice studied her a moment longer, then nodded.

Sherri hid her relief. Bluff and double bluff. Eunice didn't know as much as she thought she did about how those things worked. Thank goodness television cop shows usually got it wrong! Sherri didn't have any authority to offer any kind of a deal, but as long as Eunice thought she did, as long as she believed that Sherri could keep her out of jail, she'd answer questions. Now Sherri just had to ask the right ones and hope that Eunice knew something that would help rescue Dan.

“Is your husband armed?” she asked.

Eunice shook her head. Sherri heard Liss's small sound of relief.

“Not even Phineas's skean dhu?”

Eunice frowned. “Maybe. I don't know. Phineas kept it dull, so it hardly matters.”

That didn't mean it was
still
dull, Sherri thought, or that it couldn't be used to stab someone, but she kept those thoughts to herself. Eunice might have control of her emotions, but Sherri wasn't so sure about Liss.

“The state police negotiator will probably want you to talk to Phil. Will you do that?”

“It won't do any good. If he's taken someone hostage, he's obviously gone off the deep end. I should have seen it coming.”

Liss had stood as much as she could. “Wasn't that obvious from the moment he started planning to murder his twin brother and make it look like suicide?”

“Suicide?” A flicker of surprise showed on Eunice's otherwise immobile face. “It was going to be an accident, not suicide. Phil was going to drown Phineas in the hotel pool. Why else would he have arranged for Phineas to meet him in the basement?”

The whole story tumbled out then, in more or less coherent form. Sherri thought she had the gist of it. Phil's plan had been to kill Phineas and make it look like an accident, identify the body as Phil, and take Phineas's identity, gaining Phineas's share of the trust-fund income and all Phineas's other assets for himself. Originally, however, they'd intended to kill Phineas on his way home from The Spruces. In a car crash.

Dilys's search of their suite had thrown a spanner in the works. Phil, thinking that it was
Phineas
who'd been there and that he'd found the passport and driver's license while Phil and Eunice were buying toothpaste, had moved up the timetable. He'd studied the hotel literature, seen that there was a pool, and made plans accordingly, even to visiting the gift shop to let people know that he was headed that way.

“What went wrong?” Sherri asked. “How did he end up slitting his brother's throat?”

Eunice winced at the blunt question but, now that she'd started her story, she seemed determined to finish it. “Phil told me afterward that Phineas was acting all suspicious. Well, he would, wouldn't he, after what he found in our suite? Anyway, Phil couldn't get him to go near the pool. After a couple of minutes of arguing, Phineas said he'd talk to Phil in the morning. He said he had something he had to do first. Then he turned his back on Phil and headed for the stairwell. That's when Phil noticed the Dumpster and remembered the quarrel we'd witnessed earlier. He told me it was serendipity. Suddenly he just knew that old bagpipe would be in there, and that it would have lots of fingerprints all over it. He fished it out and hit Phineas over the head with it.”

“But then it would look like murder,” Sherri said.

“Yes.” Eunice almost smiled. “After that speech Phineas gave, it made perfect sense. There would be lots of suspects. Phil said it all fell into place as he was dragging his brother through the first unlocked door he found. He finished the job in there.”

“But how on earth could he expect to get away with such a thing in this day and age? Twins don't have the same fingerprints, do they?” Liss blurted out the questions, then sent Sherri an apologetic look. Sherri shrugged. She'd like to hear Eunice's answers to those questions herself.

“Phil said no one would question the identification if I made it. That's why we kicked up such a fuss and demanded to see the body.” Eunice glanced at Sherri. “But you wouldn't let us into the storage room. Phil was furious about that, even hours later when we got together to make sure we had our stories straight. He'd taken so much trouble with the body, you see.”

“I'm not sure I do,” Sherri said.

“Well, neither of them wore rings, so that wasn't a problem, but Phil took Phineas's wallet and key card out of his sporran and put one of the keys to our suite in. You never even looked, did you?”

Sherri shook her head. She'd been trying too hard to preserve the crime scene.

“Phil used his own skean dhu and took Phineas's. And since Ms. MacCrimmon here called his attention to them, he swapped bow ties. Thank goodness they both wore clip-ons.”

Phil MacMillan, Sherri thought, was even more cold-blooded than she'd imagined. Or a lot crazier. “So, he knocked Phineas out, made the necessary exchanges, and then slit his brother's throat. Have I got that right?”

Eunice nodded. Liss was looking rather ill. Sherri hoped she could hold it together for a few minutes longer. She had more questions to ask.

“Why complicate matters with that business of the stolen brooch?” she asked.

Eunice gave a disdainful snort. “That's Phil all over. Can't resist the chance to make an extra buck. I told him it was a mistake to bring the police in. Look at what happened. If you hadn't already been here asking questions about the brooch, there wouldn't have been anyone to stop us looking at the body.”

She was right about that, Sherri thought. Civilians would undoubtedly have moved the body and disturbed the crime scene. Added fingerprints. Phil's would have been found, but as he was supposed to be the dead guy, no one would think anything of that. Would an autopsy have revealed that the body was Phineas and not Phil? Sherri was almost certain it would have, meaning that Phil's grand plan had been flawed from the beginning, but she could see how Phil might have convinced himself that it would work.