Chapter Ten
Sherri arrived at The Spruces just in time to see
a flatbed truck leaving with what looked like an entire tree
aboard. She grimaced. That wasn’t the kind of evidence anyone
collected for an accident or a suicide. Nope. They were looking for
clues in a homicide. And that meant she’d blown it, big time, over
Jane Nedlinger’s death.
A crime lab mobile unit was parked in
the hotel’s back lot. Sherri ignored it and headed for the path
into the woods. It was the crime scene she needed to see again.
With any luck, she’d find someone there who’d be willing to talk to
her. After all, she was in uniform, even if it wasn’t the right
shade of blue.
At least she was officially on duty.
She hadn’t intended to work, but Jeff hadn’t been able to find
anyone to take her place. He’d been all set to put in a double
shift himself when she’d called in to get his okay to make contact
with the state police at the hotel in a semi-official capacity.
Since Pete had taken a sick day to help her look after Adam, she
was determined not to feel guilty about insisting to Jeff that she
work her own shift. There was no need for her to stay at her
injured son’s side every moment of the day. Besides, no one would
mind if she made a few stops at the apartment during the next eight
hours, just to make sure Adam was okay.
Although Liss had found Nola’s body
nearly sixteen hours earlier, the site was still swarming with
people. Sherri knew the routine. Last night, Gordon would have done
a walk-through to get an overview of the situation and Sherri’s
friend George, as M.E., would have come back out to view yet
another body in situ at the foot of the cliff. Then they’d have
taken photographs. Lots of photographs. It wasn’t uncommon to take
a hundred, even two hundred shots of a crime scene. They’d have
made a video of the scene, too.
These days the state police did their
“chalk outline” with florescent orange tongue depressors stuck in
at the head, crotch, arms, and legs. Sherri was glad the body had
long since been taken away, safely wrapped in a clean white sheet
the state police had brought to the scene themselves. They’d have
put brown paper bags over the hands and feet, since plastic
destroyed evidence, before they put the remains in a body
bag.
Gordon Tandy had been designated the
primary for the case. It was his area, after all. That meant he and
other officers would talk to everyone and then re-interview many of
them two or three more times to verify every detail, tease out
anything that might have been overlooked the first time around, and
cross-check all the facts. He wouldn’t necessarily be looking for a
motive. One wasn’t required for arrest or prosecution. But he
couldn’t be happy about Liss’s involvement in the case. He’d have
to suspect her in both murders. She’d clashed with Jane and she’d
been the one to find Nola, both damning circumstances. Sherri felt
sorry for both Gordon and Liss, especially if Gordon was still
carrying a torch for her.
The first person she saw when she came
out into the clearing at the top of the cliff was Gordon Tandy. She
steeled herself to face his disapproval and kept going, ignoring
the scowl he sent her way when he caught sight of her. His team was
still in the process of going over the terrain, inch by inch,
picking up and recording the location of everything they found.
There was no way to tell at this stage what might turn out to be
important
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Gordon
demanded. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been
intimidated by his brusque manner.
She felt warmth creep into her cheeks,
but she answered him with the truth. “I wanted to be sure the
forensics team found everything I saw here Friday morning—condoms,
tissues, and especially gum wrappers. Those might be important.
Bill Stotz is a compulsive gum chewer. He’s one of the people Jane
Nedlinger talked to at the reception. There was a name-badge
holder, too.”
Even as she spoke, she saw one of the
officers drop the badge holder into an evidence bag.
“We’ve got it covered,” Gordon
said.
“The way I hear it, everyone at the
MSBA meeting was pretty het up over the threat of bad publicity for
the town.”
That caught Gordon’s interest. “You
weren’t there?”
“I was home with my kid.” When he
looked blank, she filled him in on Adam’s broken arm.
He softened a fraction. “I’m sorry to
hear that. Maybe you should get back to him.”
“Pete’s there. Look, Gordon, Jane
Nedlinger annoyed a lot of people. Me, for instance.”
“You talked to the victim?” She had his
full attention at last, and wished she didn’t.
Feeling like a pinned butterfly, Sherri
gave him a succinct report on Jane Nedlinger’s visit to the P.D. “I
didn’t much like her, but I had no idea how much trouble she meant
to cause.”
“You were the first officer on the
scene when she was found. Didn’t you recognize her?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I never saw
her face, just a body dressed in jogging clothes. I know this
sounds like I’m making excuses, but I only went into the office
yesterday morning to find a replacement so I could stay home with
Adam. As soon as Jeff arrived on the scene, he sent me home. That
was after the M.E. said the injuries were consistent with a fall
but before anyone identified her.”
Gordon gave her a searching look. “You
feeling guilty?”
“Well, yeah. I should
have—”
“Get over it. Yes, the call was a bad
one, but you weren’t the one who screwed things up. Jeff relieved
you before the body was brought up. You had no reason to think
anything but what you did. George and the rescue team saw things
the same way. If anyone blew it, it was George, for not noticing
the discrepancy in the time of death sooner than he
did.”
“So it’s not Jeff’s fault,
either?”
“Trust me, no one’s going to blame
Jeff.”
Sherri started to say more, then
thought better of it. She doubted that Gordon had a very high
opinion of Moosetookalook’s home-grown chief of police. Jeff had
been given the job because he was willing to accept the
ridiculously low salary that was all the town selectmen would
authorize for the job.
She started to leave, then turned back.
“Gordon? Did Jane Nedlinger contact anyone in your outfit about her
story? I told her the state police had a public relations
office.”
“She didn’t get hold of them,” Gordon
said.
But something in his tone made Sherri
wonder if Jane had talked to him.
At the check-in desk in the lobby, Joe
Ruskin was once again on duty.
“Did you get any rest last night?” Dan
asked him. “You look done in.” Dan sometimes wondered if his father
ever slept.
“I’m okay, but I wouldn’t mind it if
you spelled me here for an hour or two.”
Backed into a corner, Dan assured his
father that he’d be glad to take over at the front desk. He wasn’t
happy at the prospect of being trapped there. He’d planned to spend
time with Liss, on and off, throughout the day. With everything
that was going on, he felt uneasy about leaving her to her own
devices. He knew her too well.
Once Dan was ensconced behind the
check-in desk, Joe didn’t immediately take off. “Something on your
mind, Dad?”
“It’s hell getting old,
son.”
“Old!” Dan scoffed. “You’re not even
sixty yet.”
“Yeah, that’s me. A real spring
chicken.” But his expression remained solemn. “Nola will never make
it to sixty.”
“So, you knew her well?” Dan was still
trying to wrap his head around the Doug-Nola-Stu triangle. It was
hard for him to imagine either of those men as young and in love,
let alone part of a sex scandal.
Joe shrugged. “You know this town. It
was even smaller back then. Everybody knew everybody, or thought
they did. Besides, I saw Nola once after she divorced Doug and left
Maine.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dan wasn’t sure he wanted
to hear this.
“You know I went into the navy right
after high school.” Joe snorted. “Smart-ass kid that I was, I
called myself a draft dodger. There was still a draft back then,
you see, and I was afraid I’d end up in Vietnam if I waited for the
army to grab me. Anyway, I was young and carefree and I liked the
life pretty well. I did two tours of duty as an aviation
electrician’s mate, mostly stationed on aircraft carriers. That’s
how I learned I could work with my hands. When I wasn’t at sea, a
friend of mine got me helping to build sets for a local little
theater. That got me thinking I might be pretty good at putting
houses together, too.”
Dan leaned his elbows on the counter,
fascinated by this glimpse of his father as a young man. Joe wasn’t
much given to reminiscing. As if he’d just realized that himself,
he shrugged and looked self-conscious, but he continued his
story.
“I was stationed stateside when one
day, out of the blue, I got this phone call from Nola. She was in
town, attending a writer’s conference, and she’d decided to look me
up. I already knew what had happened back home.” His lips twisted
into an ironic smile. “Your grandmother was still alive back then
and she kept me in the loop. Anyway, I agreed to meet Nola for a
drink. By that time, your mother and I were planning to get
married. I wasn’t going to re-up when my tour of duty was over. I
was ready to come home, settle down, and start a family. That was
why, at first, I was too dumb to catch on to what Nola
wanted.”
Dan couldn’t help grinning. “She tried
to put the moves on you?”
“That she did, son.” He shook his head.
“And all the while she was telling me about the big plans she had
now that she’d shaken the dust of Moosetookalook off her
feet.”
“Plans other than scoring with you?”
Dan couldn’t resist ribbing his father.
“Oh, yeah. She was more of a dreamer
than I am. She was going to be a famous writer. Make a fortune at
it. Hit all the bestseller lists.” Sadness replaced the twinkle in
his eyes as he made a gesture that encompassed the entire hotel. “I
was lucky. Some dreams do come true. Others don’t. Poor Nola. Seems
to me that organizing this conference and inviting all her favorite
authors to attend was the closest she ever got.”
Liss passed the registration table on
her way back to the dealers’ room after a bathroom break. Nola’s
second in command, Phoebe, sent a brilliant smile her way and waved
a flyer at her. “Want to sign up now for next year? Special
early-bird registration fee,” she called out. “And our guest of
honor has just confirmed.”
“That’s great,” Liss called back, but
she didn’t take the time to stop and find out who that person might
be.
She did wonder if she should suspect
Phoebe of murdering Nola. The woman certainly seemed to have come
into her own since she’d taken charge of the conference. She might
have pondered the possibility further if she’d had time at first to
think about anything but business, but for once she had customers
waiting. In rapid succession, she sold two more skean
dhus.
“This is just like the one used in that
murder, right?” her second customer asked.
“Close enough.” She told herself that a
small business owner could not afford to be squeamish and took his
money, but the reminder that her hometown might really become
infamous as the “murder capital of Maine” had her stomach twisted
into knots.
After the next set of panels got under
way, Liss once more had too much time to think. She replayed her
session with Gordon in her mind. Had there really been no notes in
Jane’s room except those relating to Moosetookalook? Surely she’d
been working on more than one story. She’d blogged daily, and her
piece on Liss hadn’t been scheduled to run until after the
weekend.
Liss could think of several people at
the conference who might have wanted to stop Jane from writing bad
things about them. She’d already given Gordon their names. Surely
it wouldn’t be interfering in his investigation if she just jotted
down a few questions. They might even trigger an idea that would
help him. She burrowed in her tote for a notepad and a felt-tip pen
and began to write.
Who was Jane
Nedlinger?
Where did she come from?
Why did she hate mystery novels?
Did she come to Moosetookalook only because
of the previous murders?
Where did she come from?
Why did she hate mystery novels?
Did she come to Moosetookalook only because
of the previous murders?
Liss paused to tap her pen against the
table. It seemed likely that Jane had found out about the murders
because of the conference. In that case, she
might have had an interest in the First Annual Maine-ly Cozy Con
other than talking to townspeople. She wrote:
Who else was Jane
after at the conference?
On a separate page she listed names of
all the people she knew of who’d had conversations with
Jane:
Bill
Stotz
Yvonne Quinlan
Dan
Eleanor Ogilvie
Nola
Yvonne Quinlan
Dan
Eleanor Ogilvie
Nola
There might have been others. There
probably were. She’d have to remember to ask Dan and Margaret if
they’d seen Jane talking with anyone else at the
reception.
Her third list contained the names of
everyone who’d been at the MSBA meeting. She listed Dan and Nola
again, then added Stu, Patsy, Betsy, Doug, Joe, Margaret, the
couple from the jewelry store, and the craft store woman. Everyone
had been pretty riled up, but Liss doubted that any of them had
been mad enough at Jane to kill her. Besides, only Nola and Dan,
Joe and Margaret had ever met Jane, and Joe and Margaret’s contact
with her had been ephemeral at best.
Liss flipped back to the first page.
There was one other question she needed to add, one that had no
sensible answer. It had been the middle of the night—pitch dark and
overcast after a rain storm—when Jane had gone over the edge of
Lover’s Leap to her death. Why had she been out there in the first
place?
She started a new page for Nola. It was
possible that Nola had fallen by accident, but why had she taken
flowers to the scene? She’d certainly had no love for Jane
Nedlinger.
Liss filled two more pages in her
notebook with questions and speculation, but for once writing
things down did not help her think more clearly. All it did was
raise more questions. She started doodling, a clear reflection of
the way her thoughts were circling round and round without reaching
any conclusions. She really wished she’d managed to talk to Nola
Ventress before the other woman’s death.
“I’m giving myself a headache,” Liss
muttered, and was glad when the next influx of conference-goers
distracted her. Most of them got in line to have their books signed
by the authors who’d been panelists during the last hour. Very few
bought anything. The T-shirt vendor across the way was doing a far
better business than either Liss or Angie.
Just before noon, Margaret turned up
with an offer to take over the Emporium tables so that Liss could
attend the luncheon. The guest of honor interview would take place
while attendees ate. Liss accepted. She’d already agreed to be
responsible for Angie’s tables, as well as her own, when Angie went
back into town to manage Yvonne Quinlan’s signing at the
bookstore.
Sherri intercepted Liss on her way to
the ballroom. “Can I tempt you with a quick meal in the hotel
restaurant?” she asked.
“Come with me to the luncheon instead
and tell me why you’re in uniform.”
“Don’t I need a ticket?”
“I think we can take it for granted
that there will be two no-shows. And I can’t believe I was just
heartless enough to say that.”
“You’re just displaying cop humor.
Perfectly natural under the circumstances. And yes, I’d be
delighted to join you. Fictional murders will make a nice
change.”
“I do not want to start finding cop
humor funny,” Liss muttered, but Sherri didn’t hear her. The babble
of a hundred voices, all talking at once, drowned out her
words.
They found a table just as the
waitstaff started to serve the meal. By the time Sherri had
explained how she came to be working, shouting directly into Liss’s
ear, Nola’s former second in command mounted the podium to address
the crowd. She had to use a microphone to be heard over the clink
of glasses and the rattle of cutlery.
“Welcome to our guest of honor
interview,” she greeted them. “I’m Phoebe Lewis. I’m filling in for
Nola Ventress, who is unable to be here this
afternoon.”
Liss exchanged a puzzled glance with
Sherri. Phoebe knew that Nola was dead. So did a lot of other
people. Did she really think word wouldn’t get out? True, they were
hoping the press wouldn’t get hold of the story quite yet, but Liss
was certain the news had already begun to spread through the hotel
by word of mouth.
When no one challenged her statement,
Phoebe introduced Sandy Lynn Sechrest, who would conduct the
interview with Yvonne Quinlan. “I give you our talented
toastmistress,” Phoebe said, handing over the
microphone.
“Thank you,” Sandy Lynn said in her
soft, Southern drawl, “but if you’ll recall, we decided on
toast-chick. Now, I will admit that I thought about calling myself
a toast-kitty or a toast-puppy, since I write about pets, but those
didn’t seem quite right. Neither did toast-hamster!” She waited for
the laughter to die down, then added, “So, there’s no alternative.
Toast-chick it is.”
Liss ate a forkful of pasta salad and
glanced at her watch. If Yvonne was going to be interviewed and
still get to Angie’s Books by two, Sandy Lynn had better get a move
on.
As if she’d heard the thought, Sandy
Lynn introduced Yvonne. Her first few questions were routine ones
about Yvonne’s life and her career as an actress. Then Sandy Lynn
zeroed in on the books Yvonne had written.
“One of the things that fascinates
readers is the insider’s glimpse you give them into the world of
making movies and television shows. You poke fun at the industry
you work in. Isn’t that risky?”
Yvonne’s gentle laugh drifted out over
the room. “Not really. Everyone knows how much more accurate novels
are than screenplays. Hollywood ... and Vancouver ... are notorious
for repeating the same mistakes over and over again. How many times
have you seen a cop, who should know better, taste an unknown
powder to determine whether or not it’s an illegal drug? And don’t
even get me started on the smell of cordite.”
This got a laugh, since most mystery
readers knew that substance was no longer used in gunpowder and
hadn’t been for decades. Whatever someone might smell after a
modern gun was fired, it wasn’t cordite.
“I’ve called attention to numerous
theatrical bloopers in my books. A couple of my favorites are cars
that always explode when they crash and
female detectives who chase the bad guys while wearing high heels
and short, tight skirts.”
They went on in that vein for a few
more minutes before Sandy Lynn grinned and switched subjects. “You
know I have to ask,” she said. “Is Simon really a
vampire?”
Yvonne gave her a variant of the same
answer she’d given Liss at the opening reception—“I’ll never
tell.”
Since Liss and Sherri were seated at a
table near the exit, Liss heard the door when it creaked open
behind her. Heavy footsteps approached and stopped beside her
chair. She wasn’t surprised to look up and find Gordon Tandy
staring down at her.
“I need to talk to you again,” he
said.
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.” He waited, expecting her
immediate compliance.
He got it, but not without a
disgruntled look.
“It’s just a re-interview,” Sherri
whispered as Liss stood. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Easy for you to say.”
As far as she knew, she was still
Gordon’s prime suspect. And if he decided he had a personal bone to
pick with her, he might just be vindictive enough to arrest her.
Although he had to know she wasn’t a murderer, when there was a
volatile emotion like jealousy involved, anything could
happen.
Liss followed Gordon out into the
hall.
Sherri was right behind
them.
“I should get back to work,” she
said.
“Or you could sit in on the interview.
I’d like you there, and I’m sure Gordon won’t have any objections.”
She sent him a look that said he’d better not.
He wisely agreed to the suggestion and
once again led the way to the hotel library, this time descending
the stairs from the mezzanine and crossing the lobby to reach that
large, comfortable room that was situated in the west wing near the
gift shop. When Liss saw that Dan was the one working behind the
check-in desk, she gave him a little wave and forced herself to
smile brightly. If his glower was any indication, he didn’t buy her
nonchalant attitude.
This time, Liss made the mistake of
taking the first chair she came to. The oversized, upholstered wing
chair almost swallowed her whole. She’d have fought her way free
and chosen another seat had Gordon not already repeated his
maneuver with the straight-back chair and settled in, facing her.
His big body blocked her escape.
Sherri eased herself down onto the arm
of Liss’s chair and put a comforting hand on her arm. That
reassurance helped calm Liss’s jittery nerves, but she still felt
nervous. Once she’d thought she knew Gordon Tandy well. Now he was
a stranger to her—a stranger who appeared to suspect her of
murder.
They were just getting started, with
her name and address and occupation, when the door to the library
opened and Dan came in. Apparently he’d found someone to take over
at the front desk.
“This isn’t an open house,” Gordon
snapped. The silent, unobtrusive officer who’d once again been
manning the recorder and notebook shot to his feet, ready to toss
Dan out.
“In this case, I represent the owner of
this hotel.”
“I could have you evicted,” Gordon
said. “Sherri, too.”
“Not if you want me to answer your
questions,” Liss cut in. Sadly, she had some familiarity with this
part of Maine’s criminal law. “I don’t have to talk to you at all.
I’m willing to do so only if they both stay.”
That got Gordon’s full attention and
stopped the other officer from laying hands on Dan.
“Do you think you need protection from
me?” Gordon asked. There was a peculiar quality to his voice, but
Liss couldn’t decide if he was hurt or offended or
both.
“I don’t know,” Liss said. “Are you
planning to arrest me?”
“No.”
“I’m no longer a suspect in Jane
Nedlinger’s death?”
“You’re not at the top of the list
anymore.”
“Is she a suspect in Nola Ventress’s
death?” Sherri asked before Liss could.
“No.”
“Then why do you want to talk to me
again?” Liss demanded. “And don’t give me any more one-word
answers. It’s very irritating.”
Gordon looked ready to chew nails.
“Turn off the recorder.” As soon as the other officer did so,
Gordon burst into speech. “Liss MacCrimmon, you are the most
aggravating, exasperating woman I’ve ever met. In my saner moments,
I consider myself well rid of you.”
Liss didn’t know what to say to that.
Dan went stiff with outrage. Sherri seemed to be trying to hold
back a laugh.
“Okay,” Liss said. “Well ...
good.”
Gordon got himself back under control.
“Let’s stick to business, shall we?”
Liss nodded, but she put her hand over
his before he could signal his colleague to turn the recorder back
on. “I want to do all I can to help, Gordon. The sight of Nola
Ventress at the bottom of that cliff is going to haunt me for a
very long time. I need to know how she ended up
there.”
He stared at her, long and hard, then
abruptly stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the chair
and away from the others in the room. “Stay put,” he ordered them,
and led Liss to a secluded corner that offered a modicum of
privacy. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t have an
official answer for you. Not yet.”
“But you have a theory?” She kept her
voice as low as his.
“It’s just a
theory,” he warned. “Nothing official,” he repeated, stressing that
word. “Not yet. And I shouldn’t be talking to you about it. I
wouldn’t if I could think of any other way to keep you out of the
investigation.”
“Oh, thank you very much!” He was
breaking the rules in an attempt to keep her from interfering.
Wasn’t there anyone who thought she was capable of minding her own
business?
“I know you, Liss. You have trouble
letting go. Well, there’s no need for you to get involved this
time. We have things well in hand.”
“How do I know you aren’t just saying
that to—?”
“What? Protect you? Keep you out of
trouble?”
“Well ... yes.”
For just an instant, his expression
softened. The old affection was there in his dark, gold-flecked
eyes. He still cared about her. “This information is not for public
consumption,” he warned, “but right now the deaths of Jane
Nedlinger and Nola Ventress are looking like a case of
murder/suicide.”
Liss gasped so loudly that Dan took a
step toward them. He stopped when Liss motioned for him to stay
back. She needed a few seconds before she could manage to ask the
obvious question: “You think Nola killed Jane and then herself? But
why?”
Gordon shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to
say, since the investigation is ongoing, but I will tell you this
much. After I talked to you earlier today, I made an interesting
discovery in Nola Ventress’s room. I found more of Jane Nedlinger’s
notes hidden under Nola’s mattress. And just a few minutes ago, the
results came through on a fingerprint we found in Jane’s room. It
belonged to Nola.”
“So Nola went in there after Jane was
dead and stole her notes.” Liss’s brow furrowed. If Nola had done
that, it had been after she knew Jane was dead, but it didn’t mean
she had been the one who’d killed her. All it meant was that Nola
had left other notes behind, notes relating to Jane’s story on
Liss. Had that been deliberate? Had Nola hoped to focus suspicion
on her old friend Margaret’s niece?
“Our working theory is that Nola
Ventress pushed Jane Nedlinger off that cliff,” Gordon
said.
“No,” Liss said. “No, I don’t buy it.
How could Nola kill Jane? She was half her size.”
“The larger woman could have been off
balance. In that case, a good shove wouldn’t necessarily take a lot
of strength.”
“And what were they doing on the cliff
side of the fence in the first place? Don’t tell me you think a
little bit of a thing like Nola lifted Jane up and tossed her
over!”
The three other people in the room were
looking very interested in their conversation. Gordon sent Liss an
exasperated look. “Lower your voice. I’m not supposed to be telling
you any of this.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s a preposterous
idea, and you’re being pretty stingy with details. You know a great
deal more than you’re sharing.”
“There’s a lot about this case that’s
absurd,” he said, admitting nothing more.
That was certainly an
understatement!
“Why did Jane go out to Lover’s Leap?”
Liss asked. “Was she asked to meet someone there? Even if she was,
why would she go? Only the heroines of Gothic novels are that
foolish, running into the woods when anyone with any sense would
hide under the bed. And if the old book covers are to be believed,
they’re usually wearing flowing white nightgowns as they flee the
looming castle in the background. Jane was dressed for a
run.”
And if Jane had been a character in a
Gothic novel, Liss decided, she would not have been the virginal
heroine. She’d been more the sinister housekeeper type. The
murderer, not the victim. She’d been a nasty piece of work, but
she’d also seemed to be a sensible, organized sort of woman, one
who undoubtedly knew she’d made enemies and would have been
prepared to deal with them.
Who would she have agreed to meet
there? A lover? Liss shook her head. In spite of Margaret’s story
about Nola and Stu, a romantic or sexual rendezvous seemed
unlikely. Liss knew she’d never agree to meet Dan out there, and
she was crazy about him. Then again, Dan would never suggest such a
stupid thing. When Liss tried to imagine Jane with a lover,
planning to meet him in a remote spot after midnight, she just
couldn’t picture it. Why bother when Jane had a perfectly good
bedroom in the hotel?
“Jane may have been the one to suggest
the meeting spot,” Gordon offered. Then he clammed up, reluctant to
say more.
Liss hadn’t been serious when she’d
quipped—had it only been yesterday?—that Jane might have gone to
Lover’s Leap to collect a blackmail payment, but the more she
thought about that scenario, the more plausible it seemed,
especially when stacked against even less likely explanations. Jane
had appeared to enjoy taunting her victims. Perhaps she’d chosen
that spot for its intimidation factor.
Her silent ruminations seemed to annoy
Gordon. “As you pointed out,” he said, “Jane Nedlinger was a large,
imposing woman. If the person she planned to meet was much smaller,
she may have felt she had no reason to fear for her own
safety.”
“Fear,” Liss echoed. “Well, then, it
couldn’t have been Nola. Nola was scared of the woods, day or
night. She’d never have agreed to go up there after
dark.”
“What about the notes under her
mattress?”
“Were they about Nola?”
“No,” Gordon admitted. “I expect she
destroyed any that were.”
But she’d kept Jane’s notes about other
people, except for the ones that concerned Liss. She’d deliberately
left those behind in Jane’s room for Gordon to find. What kind of
sense did that make?
“At least you must have other suspects
now. Besides me, and besides Nola, too. And at least now
Moosetookalook won’t be fodder for Jane’s blog.” Frowning, Liss
replayed what she’d just said to Gordon. “Wait a minute. You said
notes. Didn’t Jane Nedlinger have a laptop in her room? I mean, she
made her living writing a blog. Weren’t those notes—?”
“Electronic? No. Everything we found
was handwritten. She did have a laptop and we confiscated it, but
she hadn’t added anything to her files since before she arrived in
Moosetookalook. Maybe she thought pen and paper were more secure.
Less likely to be stolen, at any rate. That means Nola knew what to
look for. What to take. She left the computer because she knew it
wouldn’t have anything on it to incriminate her.”
“That implies she knew Jane well. I
don’t think they ever met before Thursday evening.”
“Is that what Nola told
you?”
To herself, Liss conceded that Nola
might have lied. She’d certainly been up to something if she’d
searched Jane’s room. But murder Jane? That
was still hard to believe, especially given Nola’s physical size
and her phobia. Unless she’d been lying about that,
too.
“This is all very confusing,” Liss
admitted aloud.
“Tell me about it.”
“But you said murder/suicide. You think
Nola killed herself. Why? Even if she did murder Jane, she must
have thought she got away with it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe she couldn’t live
with the guilt. We’re still working on it, Liss. Give us a little
time and we’ll tie up all the loose ends.”
But Liss shook her head. “Nola’s death
was not suicide. The First Annual Maine-ly Cozy Con was her
brainchild. Her baby. She’d have wanted to participate in every
moment of it. If she was going to kill herself—and I’m not
convinced she was, or that she was responsible for Jane’s
death—then she’d at least have waited until after the conference
was over.”
“Murder/suicide makes more sense than
double murder.”
“I didn’t know Nola well enough to say
what she was capable of, but I do know how much this conference
meant to her. Unless she thought you were close to arresting her
... ?” He shook his head in the negative. “Then she’d never have
taken a leap off that cliff earlier than late Sunday afternoon,
after the closing ceremonies.”
“I’ll take your opinion into
consideration.” Without giving her the chance to say more, Gordon
took her arm and led her back to the others.
When she’d once more been swallowed
whole by the wing chair, Gordon’s associate turned the recorder on
and Gordon repeated the same questions he’d asked her earlier in
the day. Liss gave him the same answers. He added a few new ones,
most of them regarding Nola and her interaction with various
attendees at the conference.
“If you want to talk to any of the Cozy
Con people,” Liss pointed out after she’d replied, “you’ll have to
do it soon. Another twenty-four hours and they’ll be scattered all
over Maine and beyond.”
“I know my job.” Gordon sounded testy.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me do it.”
“I’ll see to it that she stays out of
your way,” Dan said, speaking for the first time since he’d
insisted on sitting in on the interrogation.
Liss glared at him. She had no plans to
interfere in Gordon’s investigation, but she didn’t like Dan
answering for her.
“Just clear things up quickly, Tandy,”
Dan continued, his stance as aggressive as that of a guard dog
defending his territory. “That’s all I ask. The longer this goes
on, the worse it is for everyone in the community.”
Sherri hopped off the arm of Liss’s
chair and stepped in front of Dan, preventing him from getting any
closer to his rival. “Can I send someone else in for questioning?”
she asked Gordon.
“We’ll handle it.” He appeared
unaffected by Dan’s belligerent display.
The other officer, however, had been
braced to step in. Liss fancied that he looked a little
disappointed when he didn’t have to.
She stood and headed for the door,
relieved when Dan followed her out. It was ridiculous for Dan and
Gordon to act this way around each other. She’d made her choice.
They both knew and accepted it. But no amount of talk seemed to
make any impression on either of them. Was this what Nola had faced
with Stu and Doug? No wonder she’d taken off on her own and left
them both behind.
Liss felt drained, as limp as a wet
dishrag. “I’ve got to get back to the dealers’ room,” she said,
glancing at her watch. “It’s nearly one-thirty, and Angie needs me
to cover for her during Yvonne Quinlan’s signing in
town.”
But instead of heading up the stairs to
the mezzanine, she came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the
lobby. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to go home, crawl
into bed, and pull the covers over her head. The thought of smiling
and dealing with customers or, worse, being stuck behind her tables
with nothing to occupy her mind except thoughts she didn’t want to
dwell on made her cringe.
Angie’s daughter, ten-year-old Beth,
couldn’t handle things in the dealers’ room alone, but Margaret was
already working at the Emporium’s tables. If she could be
persuaded—
Ten minutes later, Liss was on her way
out of the hotel with Sherri, who had offered her a lift into
town.
Bill Stotz intercepted them just short
of the exit. “What the hell is going on out there? There are police
all over the place and someone said that Nola Ventress is dead.”
Although Bill’s manner was combative and his voice loud, his face
was ashen. “Is it true?” he demanded.
“I’m afraid so,” Liss said. “Last
night.”
“Why wasn’t I told at once? How am I
supposed to look after my client’s interests if I’m kept in the
dark?”
“You’re Yvonne Quinlan’s manager?”
Sherri asked.
“That’s right.” His gaze sharpened as
he took in her uniform.
“Nola appears to have gone up to the
cliff to leave flowers in Jane Nedlinger’s memory,” Sherri said
before Liss could blurt out anything more sensational.
“You mean she fell off, too? Stupid
women.”
Bill had no sooner made that
insensitive remark than he caught sight of something behind Liss
and Sherri and took off in that direction. Liss turned to see
Yvonne just exiting the elevator and watched Bill corral her,
whisper in her ear, and then hurry her outside by way of the
verandah doors. Liss and Sherri circled around to the parking lot
in time to see Bill hustle his client into a waiting
limo.
“They’re on their way to the book
signing,” Liss said. “Unless he was the one who left those gum
wrappers up at Lover’s Leap and he’s really going on the lam. I
still think he makes a good suspect in Jane’s death. Too bad I
can’t come up with a reason for him to have killed
Nola.”
“I wonder if he meant Nola was stupid
to fall or stupid to want to honor Jane,” Sherri
mused.
“He said women,” Liss reminded her as
she got into the police cruiser. “Plural.”
During the short drive down the hill
and into Moosetookalook proper, Liss said nothing more. In fact,
she was trying very hard not to think about murder or suspects or
suicide at all. She wanted to focus on putting her feet up, petting
the cats, and vegging out.
Halfway home, they passed the gas
station / convenience store Sherri’s father owned. Odd, Liss
thought. There were three cars lined up at the single pump. She
couldn’t remember the last time Ernie Willett had been obliged to
deal with more than one customer at a time.
As they drew closer to the town square,
she realized that there were also more cars than usual parked along
both sides of the narrow road. “What on earth is going on?” she
wondered aloud.
Then the square came into view and she
gasped. There had to be a hundred people milling about and—even
stranger—almost all of them were dressed in black.
“Funeral?” she asked.
Sherri shook her head. “The only body
at Preston’s Mortuary is Lenny Peet. Jane and Nola were sent to
Augusta for autopsy.”
“I’m pretty sure Lenny didn’t have this
many friends.”
“His send-off isn’t until tomorrow,
anyway,” Sherri said, “and there’s something off about the
clothing. It’s not funeral black.”
Liss started to laugh, causing Sherri
to gawk at her.
“I just figured it out,” she said.
“These people are here for the book signing. They aren’t mourners.
They’re fans of Yvonne Quinlan—the actress who played Caroline
Sweet, the undead heroine of Vamped.”