Chapter Four
L
iss and Dan stepped into a window alcove, out of the flow of traffic. The recess gave the illusion of privacy even in a crowded room. “What did she say to you?” Liss asked.
“She wanted to know if I thought Moosetookalook was the murder capital of Maine.” Dan kept his voice low but it throbbed with irritation.
“And, of course, you corrected her. That honor belongs to Cabot Cove.”
Dan looked blank.
“Cabot Cove, Maine? Home of Jessica Fletcher?
Murder, She Wrote
?”
“Oh. The old television show? I never watched it. I heard they got a lot of stuff about Maine dead wrong.”
“Well, yes, but ... oh, never mind! What else did she say to you?”
“She told me that this story may be bigger than she first thought. She's thinking of devoting an entire week to Moosetookalook and all the murders you've been involved in.”
“They didn't
all
take place in Moosetookalook.”
“That's not the point.”
“And there haven't been that many.” Annoyance sharpened Liss's voice. “A week implies seven. There have only beenâ”
“Liss! You're not seeing the big picture here. If she posts these blogs, they will generate very bad publicity for this town in general and this hotel in particular, not to mention for you personally. And she seems determined about it. She doesn't even want to do an interview with you anymore.”
For just a moment, Liss felt annoyed. When it had been only her reputation on the line, it had been: “Don't worry, Liss. Go ahead and talk to her.” But now that it was the
hotel
âShe broke off in mid-thought, appalled by her reaction. Of course they should be concerned about The Spruces, and about Moosetookalook. What Jane Nedlinger wrote could harm everyone who lived here.
All the local residents would be affected by the situation. That meant there was no good reason not to solicit help in deciding how to blunt the impact of
The Nedlinger Report
. She glanced at her watch.
“It's barely eight. If we activate the phone tree, we could convene a meeting of the MSBA at my house in an hour.”
The membership of the Moosetookalook Small Business Association included all the merchants on the town square and most of the other businesspeople in the village, too.
Dan hesitated, then nodded. “I'll alert Dad. You phone Patsy.” He headed for the lobby.
Liss made her call from the window alcove, where the cell phone reception was better. She was about to leave the meeting room when she caught sight of Nola. One look at the other woman's face told her that Nola was not a happy camper. Liss changed course to intercept her.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Do you really need to ask? That woman is impossible.” Nola's face was flushed and her small hands had curled into tight fists.
“Jane Nedlinger?” Liss asked.
“Who else?”
“Come with me.” Liss took Nola's arm and tugged her toward the nearest exit. “We're going to put our heads together and figure out how to deal with her threats.”
Liss shivered when they stepped outside. Although the sun had only just set, the temperature was already plunging. She glanced up at the overcast sky. It looked, and smelled, as if they would have some rain tonight.
“You, too?” Nola asked. “I've always hated the great outdoors, especially after dark.”
Liss wanted to protest that she was just chilled, but Nola was still talking.
“My parents used to insist on going camping every summer. I loathed every minute we spent in the woods. I don't like having too many trees around even now.” She gave a theatrical shudder. “My friends kid me about my phobia, but I won't even visit the local Christmas tree farm at the holidays. I have a nice plastic spruce that suits me just fine.”
“How do you feel about apple orchards?” Liss asked.
Nola laughed.
During the short drive into Moosetookalook, Nola supplied details of various posts Jane had written, and Liss began to understand why she was so upset. If Jane chose to pan the First Annual Maine-ly Cozy Con, its attending authors, and Nola herself, it would be very difficult to organize a second annual gathering. According to what Aunt Margaret had told Liss when Nola first booked the conference into the hotel, this conclave of mystery fans had been Nola's brainchild. She had almost single-handedly organized and produced the event, spending almost a year on the planning. She'd used her own savings to bankroll the project, which meant that she had a lot riding on its success.
Liss and Nola entered Liss's house through the kitchen. Nola dragged her feet all the way from the car. “I'm not sure this is such a good idea,” she protested.
“Do you have a better one?” Liss asked. She flicked on the light and waved the other women inside.
Lumpkin, Liss's big yellow Maine Coon cat, chose that moment to leap from the refrigerator to the nearest kitchen countertop. Nola gave a shriek and threw her arms over her head. Then, cautiously, she peeked out through her fingers.
“Oh,” she said, sounding sheepish. “A cat.”
“Hang on a minute,” Liss said. “Let me feed him and his little buddy and then I'll lock them in the basement. They'll only be underfoot at the meeting anyway.”
Lumpkin and the half-grown black cat Liss had named Glenora appreciated the food but protested loudly at being banished.
Members of the MSBA started to arrive a few minutes later, and at nine o'clock sharp, Dan banged his gavelâa wooden spoonâon the coffee table in Liss's living room. “Meeting will come to order!”
Liss doubted he could be heard above the babble of voices. She quickly suppressed the cowardly thought that it might be better if he wasn't. They'd called this emergency meeting of the Moosetookalook Small Business Association for a good reason. This was no time for second thoughts. If they
had
overreacted, they'd just have to take their lumps.
A glance at Nola's face told Liss that Nola, too, sensed the potential for disaster. It occurred to her that Nola hadn't told her exactly what Jane Nedlinger had said to her. Whatever it was, it had made the poor woman miserable.
“You okay?” Liss whispered.
“No,” Nola said. “I shouldn't have come here. You don't need my input.” She darted nervous glances this way and that, as if she expected something else besides an oversized cat to jump out at her.
“You're the best person to explain who Jane Nedlinger is and how influential what she writes will be.” Liss used her most soothing tone of voice. “And your presence will emphasize that an annual Maine-ly Cozy Con will bring business to this town. Trust me when I say that money talks.”
Nola managed a faint smile, but she did not look entirely convinced.
Her nervousness was contagious. The greater Nola's anxiety, the more Liss worried about what Jane might write.
Dan banged the spoon again, with the same results.
Liss stood. “Everybody? Quiet, please!”
She projected her voice so that it reached every corner of the room, a trick she'd learned while on tour. True, she'd been a dancer, not an actress, but she'd had a few lines to say and she'd learned how to make herself heard from the second balcony.
“We've got a meeting to start here, folks!” she added. “Whenever you're ready.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Stu Burroughs slanted an irritated look in her direction. It turned decidedly unfriendly and suspicious when his gaze moved on to Nola. She made a soft sound of distress and refused to meet his eyes.
Seeing that he'd successfully cowed their guest, Stu gave a “whatever” shrug and plunked himself down on Liss's sofa, bouncing a little when he connected with the cushion.
Stu was short and chunky and fond of bright colors. His shirt was a deep maroon and royal blue suspenders held up his well-worn jeans. It was only recently that he'd stopped dyeing his hair black. Liss privately thought that had been a wise decision on his part. The flat, lifeless color had not suited his deeply lined face. The salt-and-pepper locks he now sported looked far more natural. Liss had no idea how old Stu was, but he'd owned and operated Stu's Ski Shop for as long as she could remember.
Betsy Twining, proprietor of the Clip and Curl, settled in next to Stu. The owner of Patsy's Coffee House, Patsy herself, squeezed in beside her. Betsy was slender. Patsy was almost cadaverously thin, in spite of the delicious homemade pastries she turned out on a daily basis. Patsy was a genius in the kitchen. She was also profoundly unhappy about being up this late. She kept glancing at her watch, a clear indication that she was anxious to get home and go to bed. Liss knew that Patsy would have to be up at three the next morning to start baking and didn't want her to wake up cranky, not when Patsy was the one who had been hired to supply pastries for tomorrow's author breakfast.
They'd been able to round up quite a few members of the MSBA on short notice. The others found seats, filling all the extra chairs Liss had brought in from the kitchen. The room was packed. Aunt Margaret was there, and Angie Hogencamp, and Joe Ruskin. Liss recognized the retired couple who had just taken over the old Toy Box building to turn it into a jewelry store. She fingered her tourmaline engagement ring. It was one of their creations. Even before they'd opened their business on the town square, they'd had items for sale in the hotel gift shop at The Spruces.
A bouncy young woman with ginger-colored hair and a wide smile rushed in, out of breath. She was another newcomer, the owner of a hobby shop located where, until a few months earlier, there had been an insurance office.
Dan once again tried to call the meeting to order.
“We aren't all here yet,” Stu objected. He smirked at Liss and Nola. “We need to wait for our friendly local undertaker.”
Nola gave a start, causing the Canadian rocker in which she sat to squeak loudly. The sound grated on Liss's nerves. She clenched her teeth. The sooner they got this meeting started, the better.
“Doug's running a little late,” Patsy piped up. “He said we should go ahead without him.”
“Good enough.” Dan banged the spoon one last time. “We're officially in session. Liss?”
Every eye turned in her direction. In her peripheral vision, she saw Nola shrink back, as if she were trying to make herself invisible.
“Evening, all,” Liss began. “I apologize in advance if I've gone off half-cocked. If that turns out to be the case, you can all feel free to laugh me out of the room. But when Dan and I talked this over at the hotel, it seemed logical to call in reinforcements. All of us have a vested interest in protecting the good name of our hometown.”
She recounted her brief conversation with Jane Nedlinger, then gave them a few of the details she'd learned about
The Nedlinger Report
from talking to Nola.
“This blog is very popular, and the woman who writes it is renowned for her scathing remarks. She'd far rather trash a book in a review than praise it. As for her accounts of true crimes, she gravitates toward salacious details, and if there aren't enough of those, she's been known to drop hints about othersâjust shy of saying enough to provoke a lawsuit.”
“But surely only people interested in crimes and criminals read something like that,” Betsy said, making a little sound of disgust. “We wouldn't want that sort of person coming to Moosetookalook anyway.”
“You'd be surprised the people who like to wallow in scandal,” Angie cut in. “I've got standing orders for stuff so lurid it would curl your hair.”
“How is being featured in this blog any worse than Moosetookalook showing up in a story in one of the supermarket tabloids?” Stu Burroughs asked. “Seems to me that it's all free publicity. And you know what they say about any publicity being good publicity.”
“I hate that old saw,” Liss muttered. “It's just plain wrong. Studies show that people tend to pass on negative comments far more often than they repeat positive ones.” She was pretty sure she'd said the same thing the last time someone had played the “any publicity” card.
“That's just human nature,” Aunt Margaret agreed. She sent a worried look Nola's way, then glared at Stu.
“In any case,” Dan said, “it seemed best that we warn all of you about this woman and her blog. It's likely that we're soon going to have a serious public relations problem on our hands.” He recapped what Jane Nedlinger had said to him, reinforcing what Liss had already told the group.
“And yet,” Angie said, “Liss told me earlier today that this conference came to The Spruces
because
there had been a murder at the hotel.”
“That's true,” Liss admitted. She turned to her guest. “This is Nola Ventress. She's the organizer of the conference currently being held at The Spruces. Jane Nedlinger's presence here is a threat to her, too.”