The Corpse Wore Tartan (5 page)

She left the dining room just as Phineas MacMillan began to recite Robert Burns's poem, “To a Haggis.” He'd slice the casing open with a sharp knife when he reached the line “an' cut you up wi' ready sleight.” Then everyone would applaud and toast the haggis with whiskey.

After dinner there would be more speeches. “The Immortal Memory” was the standard tribute to Robert Burns. According to the program, Richardson Bruce would give that. Next would come the “Toast to the Lasses” followed by a response on behalf of the women who were present. Liss had been under the impression that these toasts were meant to amuse. She doubted they'd be particularly lighthearted that evening. The first was to be delivered by Phil MacMillan, with the response coming from his wife.

Songs and poems, all written by Robert Burns, would conclude the festivities. These could continue for some time, depending upon how many people felt compelled—or inspired by the whiskey—to sing or recite. Eventually they'd all stand, link hands, sing “Auld Lang Syne,” and toddle off to bed.

It was going to be a long night.

Liss made her way to the hotel offices. On one side of a narrow hallway were her aunt's office and the conference room. On the other were Joe Ruskin's medium-sized office, a room with a copier and other office equipment and supplies, and a small restroom. Rhonda and Sadie were cooling their heels in Joe's office. Dilys, Liss assumed, was currently being interviewed in the conference room.

“Fine heck of a note,” Sadie complained, catching sight of Liss. “Here we had to come all the way back to the hotel in bad weather to work that foolish cocktail party and now they tell us we can't go home.”

“The weather's only going to get worse,” Rhonda predicted. “I've got a husband to think about. And two of my boys. I don't like leaving them on their own.”

“Now, Rhonda,” Liss said in a soothing voice. “You went home and fixed them supper. Surely they can manage without you for a few hours.”

Rhonda worried the cuff on her long-sleeved white blouse. “I guess. But they won't like it. They don't like me working up here at night, either.”

Liss didn't know much about the Snipes family, but from the careworn look on Rhonda's face, she was willing to bet that the menfolk weren't inclined to help out around the house. Rhonda probably cleaned up after and waited on strangers all day and then went home and did the same thing there for her nearest and dearest.

Sadie was even more antsy than her friend. She occupied one of the two visitor chairs in front of Joe's desk, ankles neatly crossed. But one leg kept twitching restlessly and her fingers drummed in an irregular rhythm on the opposite knee.

“Have you two already talked to Officer Willett?” Liss asked.

“I have,” Rhonda said. “But none of us can leave till we've all been questioned. We're carpooling. Well, Dilys and I would have anyway. Dilys rents a room from me.”

“They're cousins,” Sadie explained.

“Second cousins once removed.” Rhonda corrected her.

“I've got family at home that needs seeing to, just like Rhonda does,” Sadie added. “I tried to tell Sherri that, but did she listen? I've half a mind to give Ida Willett a call and tell her she needs to have a long talk with that girl.”

Oh, that would go over well, Liss thought. “Why don't I check on how things are going?” she suggested, and beat a hasty retreat.

A few quick steps down the narrow hallway brought Liss to the closed door of the conference room. Tentatively, she knocked, then stuck her head inside. When Sherri, who was questioning Dilys Marcotte, didn't immediately tell her to leave, Liss took that for permission to enter. She slid into one of the chairs set up along the wall and tried not to call attention to herself.

“Let's go over it one more time,” Sherri said to Dilys.

“Why?” The older woman's face wore a sulky expression.

Dilys was pushing fifty, Liss thought, and had light blond hair with telltale dark roots. She carried enough extra pounds to put a strain on the seams of the black slacks she wore as a uniform.

“Because sometimes,” Sherri said patiently, “on the third or fourth repetition, the person telling the story remembers a new detail. Now, did you ever go up to the third floor at any time during the day today?”

“I've already told you!” Defiance replaced the sullen expression in Dilys's faded blue eyes. “I was nowhere near that suite, and you can't prove anything different.”

“You didn't go in to dust this morning?”

“I dusted and vacuumed a lot of rooms. That's my job. But not on the third floor. The third floor is Rhonda's.”

“Where were you just before the end of your shift?”

“Cleaning the top floor of the center tower. That's a luxury suite, but nobody's booked in there tonight, so I left it till last.”

Reasonable, Liss thought, but hard to verify. And Dilys would have had to pass through the third floor both going and coming.

“Then what?” Sherri asked.

“I met up with Rhonda and Sadie. We put our stuff away, clocked out, and went home to supper. Had to be back here before six-thirty, so we didn't waste any time. Rhonda's a stickler for the whole family sitting down to eat together. She had the meal on the table right at five. That's when her husband expects to eat. Rhonda's got two grown sons living with her. Bounced right back on the apron strings,” Dilys added in a disgruntled voice. “Too shiftless to go out and find a place of their own to live. A couple of lazy louts, if you ask me.”

Dilys had been quick enough to provide that information, Liss thought, and wondered what the Snipes boys had done to offend her.

“Did you see anyone on your way down from the tower suite?” Sherri asked. “Either a guest or another hotel employee?”

“I already told you. No. Can I go now? This storm is getting pretty bad. Can't you hear the way that wind is howling?”

Liss frowned. The weather
was
awful. Foul enough, she supposed, to account for the nervousness of all three members of the hotel's housekeeping staff. Their uncooperative attitudes probably had less to do with the missing brooch than it did with resentment at being questioned by the police when they were already anxious about getting home.

“We're done,” Sherri said. She waited until the door closed behind Dilys before turning to Liss. “How long till the supper finishes up?”

“It will be a while yet.”

Sherri stood and stretched. “Talking to hotel employees has yielded nothing. Zip. Nada. If MacMillan wants his brooch back, then his friends are going to have to cough up alibis. I suppose I'll have to talk to them all.” She consulted the list lying on the table. “That's thirty-two people at the supper. Plus the hotel has another eight guests who aren't with SHAS.”

Liss gave a low whistle. “You'll be here all night. Do you always go to this much trouble for a single piece of jewelry?”

Sherri laughed. “I can't answer that. This is the first time it's come up. But the MacMillans strike me as the type to make a stink if they think their complaints aren't being taken seriously. I figure I'd better dot all my i's and cross all my t's.”

Pete, who had been standing by the window, let the drapes fall closed with a soft whoosh. “Getting bad out there, all right.”

“Then we'd best have Sadie in.” Sherri grimaced.

“You want me to stay for moral support?” Liss asked when Pete left the room to fetch the third housekeeper. “Or to run interference?”

“I shouldn't have let you stay just now, during the interview with Dilys.” Sherri sent her an apologetic look. “Not exactly by the book.”

“Police business and none of mine?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Liss tried to give in graciously, but it hadn't been that long ago that Sherri had welcomed her help in solving a case. Liss couldn't help feeling a tiny flare of resentment at being left out of the investigation.

She turned in the doorway to look back at her friend. It was only fair to warn her. “Sherri? Be careful with Sadie.”

“Why?” Sherri's eyes narrowed and a wary expression came over her features.

Liss grinned. “Because she's already threatening to tell your mother on you.”

S
adie LeBlanc, Ida Willett's bosom buddy, stomped into the room two seconds after Liss departed, preceded by the overpowering smell of the musky perfume she always wore and followed by Pete Campbell. Under the florescent lights in the conference room, Sadie's face appeared more deeply lined than Sherri remembered. The shriveled skin had a grayish cast, but it was blotchy, too. Sadie looked at least ten years older than she was. Sherri wondered if she was ill. She was certainly skinny enough to qualify as emaciated.

Sadie took a seat at the conference table with ill grace and eyed Sherri's empty coffee cup. “You could at least offer me something hot to drink.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Ms. LeBlanc? Or tea?”

“Do you have decaf?”

“No.” Sherri had never seen the point, and apparently whoever stocked the conference room agreed with her.

“Pity.” Sadie studied her fingernails, one of which was ragged. “Ida tried to raise you right,” she muttered, not quite under her breath. “I told her it was hopeless. Disrespectful little thing. All those pretty yellow curls, but underneath? Hard as nails.”

Sherri tried not to let any reaction show. She
had
been a difficult child and a rebellious teenager and Sadie had been right there at Ida Willett's side to witness the shouting matches and the inevitable running away from home. Sherri had dropped out of high school during her senior year and hit the road. She didn't like to remember those lost years. She'd come back to Moosetookalook determined to start over. Well, she'd had to, hadn't she? For her little boy's sake.

Adam was nearly seven now and the light of Sherri's life. And soon, once she and Pete were married, Sherri and her son would no longer have to share a trailer with her irascible mother. Ida loved her grandson and was good with him, but she'd never quite forgiven Sherri for taking off on her own.

“I'm sorry you had to wait so long, Ms. LeBlanc,” Sherri said, “but there's been a theft and it's my job to question everyone in the hotel.”

“Are you accusing me of stealing something?” A dangerous glint came into Sadie's beady little eyes.

“I'm asking for your help in discovering the identity of the thief.” Sherri tried not to sound defensive but she wasn't sure she succeeded. She did feel certain that Sadie wasn't the one she was looking for. The older woman might be hard on the nerves, but she was as honest as the day was long.

Sadie's sniff was full of disdain, but her expression brightened. No doubt she was hoping to hear some juicy detail no one else knew, something she could share with all her friends at the first opportunity. “I suppose it's my duty to help the police,” she said. “What do you want to know?”

“Were you on the third floor at all today?” Sherri asked.

With obvious disappointment, Sadie admitted that she had not been. “My guest rooms are on the second floor, and we all worked on the function rooms off the mezzanine, but the third floor is Rhonda's.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“That's it?” Outrage laced Sadie's voice. “Do you mean to tell me that I stuck around all this time and that's the only thing you wanted to ask me?” In high dudgeon, she left the table and stomped to the door. She stopped to look back over her shoulder as she grabbed the knob. “I always said you were an inconsiderate brat, Sherri Willett, and I've seen nothing here tonight to make me change my opinion.”

Sadie slammed the door behind her.

Sherri, who had remained seated, slowly lowered her forehead to the conference table. Then she banged it on the hard wooden surface. Twice.

“Stop that,” Pete said. “Don't let that old witch get to you.”

“Easy for you to say.” Lifting her head, Sherri reached for the list of guests and sighed. Liss had been right. It was going to be a long night.

 

At the check-in desk, Dan studied the display on the screen in front of him. The Spruces had plenty of available rooms. He'd just finished, somewhat arbitrarily, assigning a fair number of them to the members of the hotel staff who were still on the premises. His father, meanwhile, was making the rounds of kitchen and lounge to let everyone know they were welcome—make that encouraged—to spend the night at The Spruces rather than try to drive home in the storm currently raging outside.

Armed with three key cards, Dan headed for his father's office to issue the invitation to stay overnight to the housekeeping staff. He hoped they hadn't already left. What had begun as just a heavy snowfall was now predicted to turn into a full-scale blizzard. The Ruskins didn't want anyone in their employ trying to navigate narrow, twisting roads in whiteout conditions.

The sound of raised voices reassured him as he turned into the narrow corridor that led to the offices and the conference room.

“Fine heck of a note!” That was Sadie's raspy voice. “Some guy gets robbed and the first thing they do is suspect us. Of all the—”

Rhonda cut in. “It happened on my floor. That—”

“Doesn't make it your problem,” Sadie snapped, cutting her off.

“Whose room was it, anyway?” Rhonda asked. “Sherri didn't mention a name.”

“Who cares?” Dilys sounded peeved. “It's nobody we know.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” Dan interrupted.

All three turned to stare at him. Sadie looked irritated. Rhonda appeared apprehensive. And Dilys's expression struck Dan as three parts defiance and one part chagrin, probably because he'd caught them gossiping about the theft.

“It's beastly weather out there. I realize the center of town isn't all that far away, but it wouldn't take much to go sliding off the road and into a tree in these conditions. On behalf of the management, I'd like to offer you each a room for the night.” He held up three folders containing key cards. “Breakfast in the morning is also included.”

“Free?” Rhonda asked.

“Free. No strings.”

Rhonda looked at the other two.

Sadie shrugged. “Your call. You're the one driving.”

Dilys glanced uneasily at the windows, just as the wind made them rattle. “Better safe than sorry, Rhonda. You can go if you like, but I'm staying put.” She took one of the key cards from Dan, glanced at the room number written on the folder, and scurried away, as if she was afraid he'd renege on the invitation.

Still Rhonda hesitated. “My husband and my boys expected me home hours ago.”

“Call them,” Dan suggested. “I'm sure they won't want you to take any unnecessary risks.”

“Well…”

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Sadie snapped, grabbing the second key card. “Grow a backbone, Rhonda.” Then she, too, disappeared.

Dan set the last little folder on his father's desk and addressed the remaining housekeeper in a gentle, coaxing voice. “You need to think of your own welfare sometimes, Rhonda. If you like, you can use this phone.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He left her alone in the office and went back to the front desk, busying himself with odds and ends that needed doing until Pete turned up some time later.

“You want the middle tower suite for you and Sherri?” Dan asked his friend.

“I don't think she plans to sleep.”

“There are other things you could do besides sleep,” Dan said with a wink. “And there's a king-size four-poster up there.”

“Tempting,” Pete admitted, “but my girl is in full cop mode. No point in wasting the luxury.”

“Maybe I'll give the tower suite to Liss, then,” Dan said. “She might appreciate it after the day she's had.” He keyed the appropriate information into the computer.

“So,” Pete said, “when are you going to stop procrastinating and propose to her?”

“As soon as I'm sure she'll accept.”

“How soon is Gordon Tandy due back?”

“In a couple of months.” Trust Pete to go right to the heart of the matter. Dan's rival for Liss's affections was currently out of state. A state trooper by profession, Tandy had been sent for special training to some police academy out west. Dan didn't know the details. He didn't want to remind Liss of Gordon Tandy by asking.

“Better get a move on, chum. Time's a wasting. Speaking of time, shouldn't the supper be breaking up pretty soon? Sherri wants to talk to all of them.”

Dan glanced at his watch. He'd lost track of time and was surprised to see that it was nearly ten. “They booked that private dining room until midnight. Still, it wouldn't hurt to let them know not to call it a night until they've seen Sherri. I—”

The lights went out.

“Damn.”

After a moment, they flickered and came back on again.

“Better check the phone,” Pete said.

Dan lifted the receiver and heard nothing but dead air. “Landlines are out.”

“Not too surprising, I guess.”

“At least we've still got cell phones.”

“Don't count on it.” Sherri entered the lobby, police band radio in hand. “My portable isn't working.” She returned it to its holster on her utility belt. “The tower must be down.”

Dan checked his cell phone. “No service. Just how bad is this storm supposed to get?”

As if in answer, the lights flickered again.

“Well, hell,” he muttered.

An outage wasn't totally unexpected, but neither was it something to take lightly. Like everyone else who'd lived in that part of Maine for a long time, Dan still had vivid memories of the ice storm of '98. That one had knocked out power for the best part of a week. He still had the T-shirt that commemorated it.

If the hotel lost power, backup generators would kick in. They'd provide enough juice to pump water in from the well and run the refrigerators and freezers in the kitchen. Fortunately the stoves and ovens ran on gas. The generators would keep lights and heat going, too, but not at full capacity. Faced with the possibility that they might lose electricity for days rather than just hours, especially if the winter storm turned really wild and wooly, the Ruskins had prudently stockpiled emergency supplies. To conserve energy, they had plenty of battery-powered lanterns for light and they could stoke up the fireplaces in the public rooms to augment the heat.

“We'd best grab a few flashlights and head for the private dining room,” Dan said, suiting action to words. There were three in a drawer behind the counter. “If the power does go out, we may have to do without electric lights for a while. There will be less panic if our guests are prepared. I'd like to get everyone down here to the lobby. Once we gather them all in one place, I can brief them on safety measures and hand out lanterns.”

“
And
tell them I'm waiting to talk to them,” Sherri said, taking one of the flashlights and trailing after Dan toward the stairway to the mezzanine.

“Tell me where you keep the lanterns,” Pete said, armed with the third flashlight, “and I'll start bringing them up.”

“I'll show you,” said Joe Ruskin, coming up behind Pete. He dumped a large cardboard box full of them on top of the check-in desk.

“Better take the stairs,” Dan called after them as his father and Pete headed back the way Joe had come. The storage room was in the basement, and it wouldn't help matters any if the two of them ended up trapped between floors in the freight elevator.

“Can you leave the check-in desk unattended?” Sherri asked when they reached the mezzanine.

“If the power goes out, calls from guest rooms won't get through anyway. And, trust me, this is one night when no one is likely to wander in off the street to ask for a room.”

They slipped quietly into the private dining room, not that anyone would have noticed them if they'd thumped and clattered. The members of SHAS were all on their feet, singing at the top of their lungs.

Liss intercepted Dan and Sherri before they'd gone more than a few steps inside the door. “The supper is just wrapping up,” she mouthed.

The singers belted out last few words of “Auld Lang Syne” and abruptly fell silent. People started gathering up their possessions, preparatory to leaving the room. Anxious to make his announcements before they could scatter, Dan headed for the microphone. Liss and Sherri were right behind him.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said, “if you could just stay put for a moment?”

He heard grumbling, but everyone obediently stopped moving.

“Thank you.” He drew breath to ask them all to adjourn to the lobby, but before he could say another word, the room plunged into darkness.

A woman gasped. A man cursed. Someone bumped into the table and let out a colorful oath. For a moment, confusion reigned, but everyone present lived in Maine or New Hampshire. They were not exactly strangers to power outages.

The emergency lights flickered to life. The word
EXIT
lit up over the doors and a few dim bulbs shed pale illumination from strategic spots along the walls. Dan turned on his flashlight and shone it up at his own face. The microphone was dead, but he had a good loud voice when he needed it.

“Sorry about this, folks,” he bellowed. “If you could all just hold on another minute?”

He waited for them to settle again.

“Well, we've got a beaut of a storm tonight,” he said, opting for a folksy tone he hoped would soothe rattled nerves. “Just about everything is on the blink—electricity, phones, computers. And I'm not even going to try to guess how long we'll have to do without. But, as you can see, we do have emergency lights and we have plenty of flashlights. We also have battery-powered lanterns. Enough for everyone. What I'd like each of you to do right now is go down to the lobby—use the stairs, please—and collect the illumination of your choice. Even if the power comes back on in short order, you'll probably want to keep another light source handy tonight, in case of further outages.”