Authors: Kaitlyn Dunnett
Scotched (11 page)
“She's not in her room and we do not give out room numbers, let alone allow people into those rooms to wait for the occupant.” From Joe's tone of voice, this was not the first time he had explained this policy. “The best I can do is let you leave a message.”
“But this is important. And it's not as if we aren't old friends.”
Belatedly, Dan recognized the woman glaring across the desk at his father and sounding just as ticked off as Joe was. It was Dolores Mayfield, the town librarian. Hands on her hips, feet firmly planted, she didn't look like she intended to budge until she got her way.
“Problem?” Dan asked, coming up beside her.
Dolores's voice shifted abruptly from angry to wheedling. “Oh, Dan, can't you reason with your father? He knows perfectly well that Nola Ventress and I were like this”âshe held two fingers aloft, pressed tightly togetherâ“all through high school. And I have a perfectly legitimate reason for wanting to see her. We have a class reunion coming up.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dan asked, affecting interest. “Which one?”
“It's our forty-first,” his father answered. “Big whoop. No one was interested in getting together for our fortieth. I very much doubt there will be any more takers this year.”
“We can but try.” Dolores was at her snooty best. “Now, are you going to let me into Nola's room to wait for her or not?”
“Not,” Joe said.
Dan wondered why his father was being so protective of Nola's privacy. He could have picked up the phone and asked Margaret Boydâanother member of that same high school class, if Dan remembered rightlyâto find Nola and tell her she had someone waiting to see her in the lobby. Instead he seemed hell-bent on getting Dolores off hotel property before she could make contact with her old classmate.
Dolores let out an exasperated huff. “If that's the way you want it, so be it. You let Nola know that a woman named Jane Nedlinger stopped by at the library yesterday. She had a lot of questions about this town,
and about Nola
.”
and about Nola
.”
Dan and his father exchanged a look. For once Dolores, the town's biggest gossip, appeared to be out of the loop. Clearly, she hadn't yet heard about Jane Nedlinger's accident. Neither Dan nor Joe volunteered any information.
Joe dutifully wrote down the message. “Anything else?” he asked.
Dolores was really fuming now. “Yes,” she snapped. “Tell Nola that I told Ms. Nedlinger
everything
! I can hardly wait to see what she does with it.” Nose in the air, a militant gleam in her eyes, she turned on her heel and swept out of the hotel.
everything
! I can hardly wait to see what she does with it.” Nose in the air, a militant gleam in her eyes, she turned on her heel and swept out of the hotel.
“What was that all about?” Dan asked.
“Nothing,” Joe said.
“Right.”
He shrugged. “Just old business. Very old business and none of yours.”
Holding his hands in front of him in surrender, Dan backed away from the desk. “Okay. Okay. I can take a hint. If you're looking for me between now and the auction tonight ... don't. I'm taking Liss out for a bite to eat.”
“Have fun,” Joe called after him as Dan once more headed for the stairs that led to the mezzanine.
Chapter Seven
A
s Dan climbed one set of stairs, Liss and her aunt descended another. Taking the back way used by hotel employees, they bypassed the lobby and went directly to the office Margaret used as events coordinator.
s Dan climbed one set of stairs, Liss and her aunt descended another. Taking the back way used by hotel employees, they bypassed the lobby and went directly to the office Margaret used as events coordinator.
Margaret MacCrimmon Boyd had made the small room, painted a pretty pale green, even more cheerful and welcoming with the addition of a love seat upholstered in a bright floral pattern and a glass-topped coffee table. A set of three Carrabassett County landscapes, done in pen and ink by local artists, decorated the wall opposite.
Liss plopped herself down on the love seat and gave her aunt a direct look. “What's the story on Nola Ventress?”
“She organized the conference.”
Liss made a face. “I know that. I mean before. You knew her when she lived here, right?”
“Yes, I did.” Margaret turned off the desk lamp, leaving only the soft glow from the computer monitor and the indirect light of a late-afternoon sun shining through her north-facing window to illuminate the room. She collected her purse and was clearly ready to leave for the day, but Liss stayed put. With a sigh, Margaret came around to the front of the desk and rested a hip on the edge. “Nola and I were in the same class in school. That was a long time ago.”
“But you stayed in touch.”
“On and off. It took some persuading to get her to come back here, but she couldn't find a better deal anywhere else on room rates or food.”
“She told me she didn't much like rural living. Or camping,” Liss said.
Margaret's quick smile spoke of a memory.
“What?”
But Margaret only shook her head. “If you want to know anything about Nola Ventress's past, you'll have to ask Nola herself. You know I'm not one to gossip.”
Unlike so many who made that statement, in Margaret Boyd's case it was true. Still, Liss persisted. “Are you close friends? Were you then?”
“Not particularly, no. But you know small towns. There are few secrets. Still, if she prefers to keep her youthful indiscretions safely buried, then you and I both should honor her wishes.”
Liss's eyebrows shot up at the hint that Nola had a scandal in her past. She couldn't help but wonder if Jane Nedlinger had unearthed the details during her short stay in Moosetookalook. Had Nola felt threatened on a personal as well as on a professional level?
Margaret grimaced at her niece's expression. “It's nothing all that bad, Liss. Just something Nola isn't likely to want to rehash more than thirty years later. And no, I won't say another word. I already feel guilty for pressuring her to come back here in the first place. I just wanted to bring business to the hotel. That's my job, after all. But I let her down. I promised her she could stay right in the hotel the whole time she was here and that she wouldn't have to go into the village at all.”
“I was the one who took her to the MSBA meeting.”
“She doesn't have good memories of Moosetookalook,” Margaret said, ignoring Liss's attempt to absolve her of guilt. “I was hoping she'd leave here with better ones. And bring the conference back to The Spruces in future years.”
“There's no reason she shouldn't,” Liss said. “She's just upset right now over Jane Nedlinger's death.”
“That was an accident,” Margaret said in a firm voice.
“A convenient accident.”
“Don't go making something out of nothing, Liss.”
Liss shrugged and tried once again to shake off the uneasy feeling that had haunted her throughout the day. “You're right. I'm letting my imagination run away with me. I'm sure it's just the influence of all the talk of murder and mayhem at this conference.” She forced a smile. “The next thing you know, I'll be blaming Jane's death on vampires.” She told her aunt about Yvonne Quinlan's extemporaneous bit of plotting.
“I suppose a mystery writer would make a murder out of it, with or without the paranormal elements,” Margaret conceded. “Thank goodness this is real life.”
“Still, Jane's death has made me curious about Nola.” Liss held up a hand to silence Margaret before her aunt could interrupt with an objection. “And no, I'm not imagining that Nola pushed Jane off that cliff. For one thing, she wouldn't have the strength to do it. Jane was twice her size.”
“Thank goodness for small favors,” Margaret muttered under her breath.
“But Nola seemed very emotional today. I asked her about her encounter with Jane and she burst into tears. And earlier, she had the most peculiar expression on her face when I was talking to Yvonne Quinlan.”
“Are you worried about Nola? Or just nosy?”
“A little of both,” Liss admitted. And she was not, despite her protests, completely convinced that Jane had fallen to her death without help.
After Margaret left, Liss detoured to the check-in desk. It took a bit of persuading to convince Joe Ruskin to give her Nola's room number, but in the end he relented when she said she was worried about how the conference organizer was taking Jane Nedlinger's death.
“Did Dan find you?” Joe asked.
“Not yet,” she told him, and kept going in the direction of the elevator.
On the second floor, she rapped on Nola's door. The conference schedule called for “meal on your own” this evening, but the charity auction was scheduled to begin at seven. Liss expected to find Nola in her room, either resting or changing her clothes.
When Nola opened the door, she looked as if she'd been crying again.
“Are you okay?” Liss asked, genuinely concerned.
“I'm fine. I'm just ... it's so upsetting. Last night we were all plotting against her and now she's dead.”
“She was plotting against us first,” Liss reminded her. “Maybe it would help to talk about it. If you told meâ”
Harsh red color flooded into Nola's face. “If you're going to badger me with questions, you can just go away. I won't be harassed.”
Liss backed off at once. “I don't mean to pry, Nola, but Jane Nedlinger's death is preying on my mind, too. I just thoughtâ”
“I've heard about you, Liss MacCrimmon. You make a habit of sticking your nose into other people's business. You just stay away from me.” With that, she slammed the door in Liss's face.
The click of the lock engaging sounded very loud in the quiet corridor.
Time to go home, have some supper, and feed the cats, Liss decided. Maybe Nola wasn't the only one who needed a little alone time.
A brisk knock at the back door of Sherri's apartment had her scurrying to answer it. Although it was only a little after six in the evening, Adam had just drifted off to sleep. She didn't want the noise to wake him. Even so, she was cautious enough to take the time to peek through the window beside the door to make certain she knew who was standing on the other side.
Liss and Dan were faced off on the small landing at the top of the outside staircase. They looked to be having words, if the expression on Liss's face was any indication. “Uh-oh,” Sherri muttered under her breath. “Trouble in paradise.”
When the door swung open, they turned to face her. She lifted a finger to her lips to shush them. “Adam's sleeping. You'll have to keep it down.” Only after they both nodded did she let them in and lead them through to the kitchen.
“How's the little guy doing?” Dan whispered, stepping over a toy dump truck Sherri had missed picking up off the floor.
“He's cranky. So is his mom.” She was ready for a nap herself, but she knew she wouldn't rest until Pete came home at ten. Thank goodness he'd put in for a sick day for tomorrow! “I was going to fix myself something to eat. Do you want coffee? A hot dog?”
“We'll get something later, thanks.”
“Not so you'd notice,” Dan grumbled, giving Sherri a clue to the problem between them.
“Let me guess. You wanted to take Liss out for a nice meal. She's planning to nuke something in the microwave.”
“Got it in one. Plus I just had to chase all over the hotel to find her.”
“I did not know you were looking for me,” Liss said in the aggrieved tone of someone who has said the same thing several times already.
Sherri made the time-out sign. “Truce, you guys. Is there a reason you came by?” She popped two hot dogs into the microwave, set the cook time, and punched the start button.
“I wanted to see how Adam was doing and ask if you need anything,” Liss said promptly.
“He's got a humongous cast on his arm and can't go out and play. Other than that, he's fine. His mother, however, feels like a wrung-out dishrag. And this is only day one.”
“As soon as the conference is over I'll be able to give you a hand,” Liss promised. “If nothing else, I can sit with Adam so you can escape for a bit.”
“I appreciate that, but Pete and I can handle it. Now, tell me what you've been up to. Take my mind off mothering for a while.” The microwave dinged and she extracted the hot dogs, slid them into buns, and added mustard.
“Well, there is something I'd like to run past you.”
“Liss,” Dan said, a warning clear in the tone of his voice.
“What? It'll give her something to think about other than her son.”
“Spill it,” Sherri told her. “Ever since Adam's accident I've been so focused on him that nothing else has made any impression.” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “I had an unattended death this morning, and even that couldn't distract me for long.”
Liss stared at her. “You already know about Jane Nedlinger?”
Surprised, Sherri stared at her friend. “Is that who the body was? The one out at Lover's Leap?” At Liss's nod, she gave a low whistle. “I didn't know. Jeff relieved me before we had an I.D. for her.”
“But you'd met her,” Dan said. “You called out to the hotel to ask if we had a J. Nedlinger registered.”
“And Joe said you didn't.” Sherri sent a questioning look Dan's way.
“He did a little more digging. It turned out that she used her own credit card, but she signed in under the name Jane Smoot.”
“Why?”
“Hard to say. Maybe she was trying to keep a low profile. She showed up at the conference's opening reception, but she wasn't wearing any name tag.”
“Maybe not,” Liss cut in, “but she wasn't shy about introducing herself, or telling people that she was the force behind
The Nedlinger Report
. By any name, she was a very nasty piece of work. She came to Moosetookalook looking for dirt.”
The Nedlinger Report
. By any name, she was a very nasty piece of work. She came to Moosetookalook looking for dirt.”
“Well, yes. I did suspect that.” While she poured herself a glass of diet root beer, Sherri gave them a quick recap of her own encounter with Jane Nedlinger at the P.D. “I have to admit I didn't take to the woman,” she added when she'd filled them in on the pertinent details.
“She was going to write about the murders in Moosetookalook, and she intended to make it seem like Liss was responsible for them,” Dan said. “What was that phrase she came up with? A lightning rod for murder?”
“Something like that,” Liss agreed with a grimace. “You were at the hospital with Adam, Sherri, or you'd have known that we called an emergency meeting of the MSBA last night. Everyone was pretty upset about what she planned to write. And we weren't the only ones. There were several people at the conference, including Nola Ventress, the organizer, who also had run-ins with Jane Nedlinger. I've no idea what she might have intended to write about any of them, but she wasn't known for singing anyone's praises.”
Sherri put two and two together and didn't like the total. “Are you trying to tell me that you suspect her death was something other than an accident?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Liss said.
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