The Corpse Wore Tartan (9 page)

Sadie didn't move, but the very stiffness of her posture told Sherri she'd hit a nerve. Sherri bit her lip. Her words had been blunt to the point of cruelty. She told herself she'd had to say them to get through to this obstinate woman, but her conscience called her a liar.

Sherri told it to shut up. She had a job to do.

“Back then,” she continued, “both of my parents smoked, too. After my mother quit, she wouldn't let anyone else in the house with a cigarette, so I haven't seen you light up recently. But if you didn't kick the habit, then you'd find a way to get your fix, wouldn't you, Sadie? Even if it meant risking your job to do it.”

Sadie's continued silence provoked Sherri into pushing harder.

“State law mandates smoke-free workplaces, Sadie. Employees aren't allowed to light up anywhere on the premises, indoors or out. Is that why you always wear such heavy perfume? To cover up the smell of smoke that clings to your clothes and hair?”

Sadie crossed her arms across her bony chest and glared. “I'm not admitting a thing.”

Sherri resisted the urge to growl. “I'm willing to ignore the fact that you broke the no smoking rule. Once. But only if you stop being difficult and tell me exactly what you saw tonight.”

New wrinkles appeared in Sadie's forehead. She knew she didn't have a leg to stand on if Sherri reported her. She'd lose her job and any chance of a good reference. She huffed out an exasperated breath. “I didn't see anything except a dead body.”

“When you went to retrieve your…property?”

“Yes! All right, yes. I hid a pack of cigarettes in the storage room and I went in to get them.”

Finally! She'd broken through. Sherri wondered why she didn't feel better about her success. Probably because she'd lived down to Sadie's expectations. She'd badgered and insulted a woman who'd just been through a traumatic experience. She'd treated Sadie as if she were a criminal, instead of a potential witness.

Well, it was too late for a do-over now. The best she could do was adopt a conciliatory tone. “Just a few more questions and you can get some rest, okay?” Sherri didn't wait for a reply. “Did you hear anything on your way down to the basement? Voices? Footsteps?”

Sadie shook her head.

“How about smells? Perfume? Aftershave?”

“I wasn't paying attention.” Sadie still sounded aggrieved.

“But you must have been keeping an eye out. You wouldn't have wanted to get caught.”

“There was nobody around except the dead guy.”

Sherri repressed a sigh. “Okay, then. I'm sorry to put you through this, but I need to know how far into the room you went, if you touched anything, how—”

“Are you nuts? The second I saw the blood I was out of there. I didn't touch anything but the door handle.”

“Did you have a flashlight or a lantern?”

“Flashlight. Damned near dropped it when the beam picked out a guy's legs. I thought at first that I'd interrupted a couple going at it. Then I realized that he wasn't moving.” She sent Sherri a sickly smile. “You wouldn't believe how bad I need a cigarette right now. I don't suppose you could go get that pack for me?”

Reluctantly sympathetic, Sherri shook her head. “And please don't try to get it yourself. That's a crime scene now. Sealed off until the state cops get here.”

“Body still in there?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.” Sherri was pretty sure that would discourage Sadie from attempting to retrieve her cigarettes. “Okay, Sadie. We're done here. The state police will want to talk to you, of course. And if you think of anything else, please let me know right away.” She stood. “Thank you for your cooperation.” There wasn't even a hint of sarcasm in those last five words.

Sadie made a production out of gathering up her purse and opening it to fish out her key card. She regarded it and Sherri with the same disgruntled expression. “You'd think,” she said as she made her way to the conference room door, “it being the hotel's fault that I'm stranded here overnight and all, that they could have given me a room with a decent view.”

 

Liss rubbed at her eyes, wishing she weren't so exhausted. The long climb to the aerie had just about finished her off, but the tower suite deserved to be appreciated. Carrying her flashlight and a bag from the gift shop that contained the oversize T-shirt she intended to sleep in, she made her way through the living room and into the bedroom with its big, four-poster bed, its huge bank of windows, and its ornate fireplace.

She shivered. It was even colder there than it had been downstairs, but she couldn't resist going to the windows and looking out at the night. On her way by, she grabbed the hand-knitted afghan neatly folded across the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She couldn't see much except the few fat, wet flakes of snow that stuck to the glass. Liss frowned. If the temperature warmed up another degree or two, those would turn to sleet, and that would cause even bigger problems. When ice accumulated on tree limbs, they broke off under the weight. That would be all they'd need! Driving into Moosetookalook, close as it was, would be impossible if that happened. They could be stuck there for days before road crews managed to clear away that kind of debris.

Her thoughts went to the two cats waiting for her at home. She told herself they'd be fine. She'd left them plenty of food and water, knowing it would be a late night. And surely Aunt Margaret would check on them. Liss's aunt had gone home at five, so she'd missed the worst of the weather. And she lived right above Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. She'd be able to check on Lumpkin and the kitten as soon as the storm let up. After all, it was only a matter of a few steps from Margaret's back door to the entrance to Liss's kitchen.

She turned away from the window, meaning to crawl into bed and catch what sleep she could. Her eyes were already at half mast, but they popped open again when the beam of her flashlight revealed that she was not alone. A figure loomed in the doorway, blocking off the only escape route. Liss swallowed hard and whispered, “Who's there?”

“It's just me,” Dan said. “I didn't mean to spook you.”

Liss sagged in relief. She'd thought, earlier, when Dan had told her that she'd be sleeping in the tower, that he intended to share the suite with her. She'd been looking forward to spending some time alone with him. They saw each other all the time, but there were almost always other people around. But then Sadie had found the body. Homicide and romance might mix well in romantic suspense novels, but Liss had a feeling that in real life it was harder to combine them.

“I thought you might like a fire,” Dan said.

Without waiting for her response, he entered the bedroom and headed for the stone fireplace. When Liss directed her light that way, she saw that there was already wood and kindling laid in the hearth, ready to be lit. Dan knelt down, match in hand, and held the flame to the crumpled newspaper that made up the bottom layer. A moment later, it caught.

“I thought fires weren't allowed in the rooms,” Liss said, coming up beside him to stare down at the winking flames.

“This is one of the exceptions, although we still have to be careful.” He set the fire screen in place to keep sparks off the hearth rug.

When he stepped back, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to move into his arms. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and tugged her toward a love seat already positioned to view the romantic glow of the fire.

“I had this planned for a lot earlier in the evening,” he whispered.

She toyed with the buttons on his shirt. He'd had a rough night, and things wouldn't be much better in the morning. Even without Phil MacMillan's murder, Dan had to have a lot on his mind. Opening the hotel had been a gamble from the first. The Ruskins needed every paying guest they could find to cover the operating costs. When the power went out, Joe Ruskin had offered free food as a way of making up for the lack of amenities. That alone probably broke the budget. If some of the guests demanded their money back, Joe would be in even worse financial trouble.

She nestled closer, finally beginning to feel warm again as the fire crackled in the hearth. Dan kissed her forehead.

“Man, am I glad I'm not a cop,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Pete. He's stuck sitting on a hard chair in the basement hallway for the rest of the night. Guard duty. I guess I'll have to spell him tomorrow, though. Or find someone else to. Maybe Simon, if I offer him enough overtime.”

“Wait a sec. Are you telling me that Sherri and Pete think someone might try to get into the storage room? Why would anyone want to go in there?”

“An excess of curiosity?” he suggested.

When Liss felt Dan's lips curve into a smile, she just knew he was thinking of her. “I've got no interest in viewing dead bodies. Let me just say—eeew!”

“No plans to play Nancy Drew on this one?”

Liss hesitated, then opted for honesty. “I did offer to help Sherri conduct interviews, but she turned me down flat. I think she's afraid I'll mess up the chain of evidence or something.”

She glanced up to meet his cool, steady gaze. That expression said more than words could express. He didn't want her involved in the investigation any more than Sherri did.

“I just want to give her a hand.” Liss knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn't help it. She
felt
defensive. “She can't do everything herself. Besides, this could be another case where I have special knowledge that may be useful to the police. Don't forget, most of the hotel's guests are members of the Scottish Heritage Appreciation Society, and I've been working with them since just after Christmas.”

“I haven't forgotten anything.” Dan tightened his hold on her and rested his cheek against the side of her head. She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the exasperation in his voice. “I remember what it's like to be afraid for you, Liss.”

She lacked the energy to pull away from him, but she did muster up enough to object to his misgivings. “I'm not planning to do anything
dangerous
.”

“And we already know how often
plans
can go wrong. A man had his throat slit tonight, Liss. I don't want you to be next. Look, I understand why you feel you should get involved. I do. Hell, I've got a vested interest in solving this crime myself, for the sake of Dad's hotel. But Sherri knows what she's doing. She has to be the one who calls the shots because she's the one who knows what we have to do to make sure that whoever did this gets convicted.”

“But if there's a way we
can
help, we should. Right?”

Liss didn't know why she was being so stubborn about it, but she was relieved when Dan nodded. She felt the movement as a soft up-and-down brush of his cheek against her hair. Then he turned her in his arms. She was unsurprised to find their lips in perfect alignment for a kiss.

She wasn't being fair to Dan, Liss thought as she melted against him. Clearly, he needed to be distracted from his worries. She didn't particularly want to spend what was left of the night talking about murder, either.

“What am I going to do with you, Liss MacCrimmon?” Dan whispered when they came up for air.

Liss smiled. “I hope that's a rhetorical question.”

L
iss woke up slowly, aware that she was lying on a sinfully soft mattress, snugly wrapped in something lightweight but warm. What did they call those feather-filled coverlets? Duvets? And instead of one of the comfy flannel nightgowns she tended to wear on cold winter nights, she appeared to have on a T-shirt with some sort of appliqué on the front.

Still groggy, she kept her eyes closed and tried to remember where she was. Not at home, that much was certain. If she were home, she'd have two cats in bed with her, hogging the space. And if it was after dawn, as her internal clock insisted it was, both felines would be clamoring for attention…and food.

A scent tickled her nose. Coffee. Liss's lips curved into a contented smile. But there was something else in the air, another smell that puzzled her. It didn't belong in a bedroom. Well, neither did coffee. Not ordinarily. But this second one was even more out of place. It was…smoke!

Abruptly, she sat up in bed. Her eyes popped open and she gave a little cry of alarm. Then the events of the previous night and early morning came back to her in a rush. Phil MacMillan had been murdered. A storm had trapped everyone at The Spruces. And she was in a gigantic four-poster bed in the swankiest suite the hotel had to offer, the one on the top floor of the central tower.

Directly opposite her was a stone fireplace. A cheery blaze burned in the hearth, heating not only the bedroom but also a kettle of water. Dan Ruskin rose from the chair he'd pulled close to the warmth.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Coffee?”

He gestured toward a small side table and the French press—almost full—cups, and coffee supplies it held. There was also a covered dish containing some kind of food. Liss's mouth watered.

“Yes, please.”

Dan brought her a mug of coffee and a doughnut on a plate and sat gingerly on the side of the bed with one in each hand. He looked bemused when, instead of taking them from him, Liss seized his face between her hands and kissed him smack on the lips.

“You're pretty chipper on only three hours of sleep,” he said.

“Quality time. But hold the breakfast, okay?”

Tossing back the covers on the other side of the bed so that she could climb out, she hopped down, instantly glad that the fire had already warmed the floorboards under her bare feet. The T-shirt she'd commandeered from the gift shop was oversized, so that the sleeves reached her elbows and the hem hit her at midthigh, but it wasn't designed for late January wear. She hastily collected her clothes—the pantsuit she'd worn during the day yesterday—and hurried into the bathroom to dress.

When she came out, Dan had opened the drapes and was standing at the window. She joined him there, taking the mug of coffee he'd been holding for her. She anticipated a spectacular view, but sunrise had brought little improvement in the weather. The snow had let up, but the wind had not. Icy flakes blew sideways past the glass, obscuring the landscape.

“Brrrr,” Liss said, and took her first reviving hit of caffeine.

“I woke up at dawn and went down to take a look around. Dad was out there ahead of me. We walked out to inspect the tree that's blocking the driveway. It's worse than I anticipated. More than one of our big spruces came down in the storm. They're going to have to be cut up and cleared away before anyone can get out of the parking lot.”

“Oh, Dan. I'm so sorry.” It was more than just the inconvenience that saddened her. Those trees had given the hotel its name. They'd been standing for well over a century.

“Dad wants to take a crew out with chain saws as soon as we can work safely, but when that will be is anybody's guess.” He sounded discouraged. “It's not even worth starting up the snowplow yet. Not with this gale still blowing.”

Wild weather, Liss thought. And unpredictable. Suddenly, she lost her appetite.

“It will all work out,” she said aloud, but she didn't entirely believe her own words.

“How?” Dan asked. “The power and phones haven't come back on. We've lost those trees. And we've got a dead guy on the premises.”

“I take it you told Joe about the murder?”

“Yeah. He put up a good front, but he was thrown by the news. He's thinking it might be the final straw. I'm thinking he could be right. Who's going to want to stay in a hotel where there's been a murder?”

“The sooner the case is solved, the better for everyone,” Liss said in bracing tones. She hastily finished the rest of the coffee in her mug. “Let's go down and see how Sherri's doing. Maybe she's changed her mind about wanting help.”

Ten minutes later, Liss and Dan located Sherri in the hotel restaurant, which was not yet open, although it would be soon. Angeline and her staff were almost through setting up a breakfast buffet.

Sherri's appearance shocked Liss. While a few hours in bed had left Liss refreshed and raring to go, it was obvious that Sherri had not slept well, if at all. Her smile looked forced when she gestured for Liss and Dan to join her.

She'd chosen a table in the far corner of the restaurant. It was set off a bit from the others, but it was still close enough to benefit from the heat of the fire in the fireplace.

The restaurant, in an earlier incarnation of The Spruces, had been the main dining room. Shaped like a boot, it took up one end of the hotel's first floor, extending into both the front section and the east wing, where the kitchen was located. The ceiling rose two stories, just like the ceiling in the lobby, and ornate windows lined the outside walls.

Liss couldn't help but notice the audio recorder and notebook Sherri had next to her. “Are you going to interview everyone again?”

“Only a select few, but I do want to get Dan's statement, since he was the second person on the scene. It won't take long.”

“No problem,” Dan said, settling into a chair.

Five minutes later, Sherri's finger hovered over the
STOP
button on the recorder. “And you're sure you didn't touch anything else in the storage room?” she asked.

“Pretty sure,” Dan said. “Trust me, I had no desire to stick around.”

Sherri depressed the button. “Okay, then. Thanks. What do you say we get some breakfast and talk about something else for a half hour or so?”

Dan was all for Sherri's suggestion. So was Pete, who had just joined them after being relieved of guard duty by Simon the bartender. Joe had arrived, too. He opened the door to let in the first of the hungry guests and some of the equally hungry staff.

“You're really not going to investigate?” Liss asked. “Or even speculate about suspects?”

“I won't ignore relevant information, but there's not a lot I can do. I can't even make a good guess at when he was killed, so there's no point in trying to pin down alibis.”

“I bet we can figure it out. We know when Phil visited the gift shop and when he was found. And we certainly know who the prime suspects are.”

“Food, Liss,” Dan said, gesturing toward the breakfast buffet.

Her stomach growled. Loudly. “I guess I could do with bacon and eggs and another cup of coffee,” she admitted.

Twenty minutes later, replete, she drained her cup and took a look at the people around her. There were no kilts in evidence, making it hard to distinguish between SHAS members and skiers.

In theory, aside from herself, Sherri, Pete, Dan, and Joe, no one but Sadie, Eunice, and Phineas knew anything about Phil's murder. And the killer. Oh, and Simon, since he was guarding the body. But she took note of the surreptitious glances slanted their way and heard a few nervous titters. It was obvious that someone had been talking, or at least hinting, at dire happenings during the night.

“Are you going to make an announcement?” she asked Sherri.

“No. It's better to keep things under wraps if we can.”

“That horse may already have escaped from the barn,” Liss warned her.

Right on cue, Will MacHenry sidled up to their table. He toyed nervously with the hem of his sweatshirt. “Has there been another robbery?” he asked.

“No,” Sherri said.

“But something has happened,” Will persisted.

Sherri hesitated, still trying to downplay the situation. “An unattended death,” she admitted.

Liss didn't understand why was she being so cautious. The truth was bound to come out. Too many people already knew what had happened to Phil. Losing patience, and very curious to see Will's reaction when he heard the news, Liss spoke up. “Mr. MacMillan is dead, Will.”

“Dead!”

Conversations stopped. People turned to look at them in consternation.

Will lowered his voice, but the damage was done. “But…but I just saw—” He broke off to look frantically around the restaurant. His gaze fell on a man sitting alone and he pointed. “Phineas is right over there. He—good Lord! You don't mean that Phil—?” Will swallowed convulsively. “He didn't die of natural causes, did he? You'd have said if he had.”

“Mr. MacHenry,” Sherri began.

“He was murdered, wasn't he?” Will's voice rose in pitch. Everyone in the restaurant heard him clearly.

“Shit,” Sherri said under her breath.

Looking resigned, she tapped a fork against the side of a glass until everyone quieted down.

“Sorry,” Liss mouthed at her.

“No, you're not.”

“What's going on?” someone shouted.

Sherri took a deep breath. “I just want to set the record straight. There is no reason for any of you to be concerned, but there has been an unattended death in the hotel. Under the law, that means there has to be an investigation. Some of you may be asked a few questions by a state police detective.”

“Is this going to hold us up even longer?” a man demanded.

“I already have all your names and addresses. There should be no problem about leaving the hotel. However, as you already know, the storm has knocked out power and all communications. Your cars are buried under the snow and there are trees down, making it impossible at present for any of us to leave.”

Several loud groans greeted this announcement, although Liss was sure that all those present had already figured out that they weren't going anywhere today. The skiers were frustrated by not being able to get to the slopes. SHAS members groused that they had families and jobs to get back to, but Liss didn't put much stock in that last complaint. Very few businesses stayed open when the weather was this bad.

“I don't see why I can't leave,” Sadie LeBlanc complained, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I can walk home as soon as the wind dies down.” She flounced off toward the entrance to the restaurant.

“Good old Sadie,” Liss murmured.

“The one person the state police will undoubtedly want to talk to.” Shaking her head, Sherri scraped back her chair and stood. “I guess I'd better tell her she needs to stick around.
That
will go over like a lead balloon!”

 

Sherri caught up with Sadie in the vestibule just outside the restaurant. The encounter was just as acrimonious as she'd anticipated. Sadie stormed away in a huff after Sherri informed her that she was not to even think of leaving the hotel without checking with Sherri first.

“I'm sorry,” Sherri called after her, “but none of us has any choice in the matter. Your cooperation is much appreciated,” she added, sotto voce, as Sadie disappeared into the lobby.

A timid voice spoke at Sherri's elbow. “Can I talk to you, Officer Willett?”

Sherri gave a start, surprised to find Dilys Marcotte standing right next to her. She wondered if Dilys had overheard her go-round with Sadie. Probably. Dilys seemed to have a talent not only for moving silently but also for blending into the background.

“Do you know something about the, er, unattended death, Dilys?”

“It was a murder, wasn't it? That's what Sadie's been hinting.”

Sherri tried not to grind her teeth in frustration. So much for keeping this whole thing under wraps to prevent a panic.

“Sadie said the dead guy was wearing a kilt. I just wondered who—”

“His name was Phil MacMillan,” Sherri said, keeping her voice low even though no one else was in the vestibule at the moment. “Did you know him?”

Dilys looked startled.

Sherri's eyes narrowed. “
Did
you know him?”

“No! No, of course not. It's just that…well, once you put a name to a dead man, he isn't just a body anymore.” Dilys frowned. “This is all very upsetting. I've got delicate sensibilities, you know. I don't want to stay where there's been a murder. And I've got an alibi. I went to bed just after midnight and slept like a log until morning. So, is it okay if I go home now? It isn't far. I can walk.”

“Not in this weather.”

Sherri sympathized with Dilys's desire to leave the hotel. Sherri wanted nothing more herself than to go home to her son. As things stood, she couldn't even talk to him on the phone to assure him that Mommy was all right.

“Just sit tight, Dilys. Okay? Besides, aren't you scheduled to work today?”

Dilys dithered a moment longer, mumbling something about her shift having started at seven. “Guess I'd better get cracking,” she said, and scurried away so fast that, since she wasn't looking where she was going, she nearly ran smack into Phineas MacMillan, who was on his way out of the restaurant. Dilys took note of the irritable look on his face, gave a little squeak of alarm, and fled, head down, in the opposite direction.

MacMillan ignored her and stalked over to Sherri. “Officer Willett,” he said, “I have been thinking things over and I have decided that Eunice may have been right. That being the case, I want police protection.”

Of course you do,
Sherri thought.
Anything to make my life more complicated!

Aloud, she suggested that they go back into the restaurant to discuss the matter. Guests had begun to leave in groups of two and three and she anticipated that in a few minutes there would be no one left but the kitchen staff to take an interest in their conversation. They could be private at the table she'd chosen. And she could record whatever he had to say to her.