The Scottie Barked At Midnight (23 page)

Liss paid her no mind. She liked this plan, and she was certain she'd be safe with so many people around. “Oscar Yates may be enough of a professional to hide his shock at seeing me,” she mused aloud, “but Iris is an open book. She's sure to do or say something incriminating, and then you
will
have probable cause to search the van.”

 

With a good night's sleep behind her, Liss was more certain than ever that the person who'd thrown the blanket over her head and half smothered her had been Oscar Yates. She still had plenty of unanswered questions. Why Iris had agreed to drive the van wasn't one of them. That poor girl was so infatuated with the Great Umberto that she'd do anything he asked of her.

Could he have switched Deidre's pills? And Willetta's cough drop? No trick at all for a magician who used sleight of hand on a daily basis. Ditto getting into a locked room to vandalize Mo's props. The phony phone call accusing Eudora of attacking a hotel guest must have been a piece of cake compared to the rest of what he'd done. Of course he'd had to sacrifice a valuable piece of equipment to make himself seem a victim rather than a suspect. That did puzzle Liss. Why hadn't he destroyed something less valuable than his vanishing cabinet? And, come to think of it, why had he planted Iris's earring in Willetta's suite?

Maybe he was being a little
too
clever, she decided. The fact remained that he'd had opportunity and means. As for motive, he had more than one. He wanted to win, or he wouldn't have agreed to participate in the champion of champions series. There was the money he'd get for appearances and the publicity those would generate for his act, as well as for
Variety Live.
Oh, yes. He had motive. Opportunity, means, and motive, the trifecta that pointed to guilt. All she . . . they . . . had to do now was find a way to prove the case against him.

She breezed out of the bedroom to find Dan and Sherri, who'd stayed the night, just finishing a hearty room-service breakfast. They stopped talking when they saw her.

“What?” Seeing a glance pass between them, Liss narrowed her eyes. They were going to try to talk her out of her plan. She held up one hand, palm out. “Never mind. Not a word until I've had some coffee.
Lots
of coffee.”

Ten minutes later, she felt better equipped to face opposition. She turned to Dan and gestured for him to begin.

“It's dangerous. You don't know how Yates will react to seeing you.”

“That's kind of the point.”

But Dan was shaking his head. “I can make an educated guess. The guy has an ego as big as Chicago. He thinks he's manipulated everyone, that his illusions have succeeded in fooling us. He'll put on the charm, count on his charisma to give him the win over Mo Heedles once you're a no-show. But anyone who could do the things he's done has a darker side beneath all that charisma and charm. If you're right about him, he's killed twice. He'll have no compunction about killing again if he's threatened.”

Liss put down the piece of toast in her hand, her appetite suddenly gone. “If he'd wanted me dead, he had plenty of opportunity to kill me last night. He didn't. I don't think he killed the reporter. Much as I hate the idea of a second villain, it makes much more sense for Roy Eastmont to have pushed Barrigan off a balcony. His suite is on that side of the hotel, too, and he had the most to lose if Barrigan exposed the truth about
Variety Live.
”

Liss laid out the details of her newest theory for Sherri and Dan. The final piece of logic was that the reason Eastmont had gotten stinking drunk was because he felt guilty about what he'd done.

“That doesn't mean you'll be safe if you suddenly reappear and cost the Great Umberto everything he's been working toward.” Dan stabbed his fork into a sausage with unnecessary force.

The dogs beneath the table went on alert, certain that there were table scraps, intentional or otherwise, in the offing.

“So,
what
then?” Liss asked. “We just let him get away with everything he's done?”

“Of course not. Give Gordon Tandy a chance to accumulate more evidence, enough to get that warrant. Then the state police will find your fingerprints in the van and Yates will be arrested.” Sherri's was the voice of reason, but Liss wasn't any more ready to listen to her than she was to hear what Dan had to say. Her mind was made up.

“He hasn't called back, has he? You said yourself that there isn't probable cause.”

“Not yet.”

“It won't do any good if Yates has time to clean the interior of the van.”

“Why should he? He thinks your hands were covered by that blanket.” Sherri's eyes widened. “The blanket! Do you still have it?”

“It's in the truck,” Dan said. “Why?”

“If we're lucky, there will be something on it, a hair maybe, to prove it belonged to Oscar Yates. I'll make sure it gets to the state police lab.”

“But you don't have anything to match that hair to,” Liss objected, breaking a slice of bacon in half and giving the pieces to Dandy and Dondi. “Unless I pluck one from his beard. That would be fun.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Dan's fists thumped down onto the table. “Even if he didn't push that reporter to his death, he deliberately poisoned Deidre Amendole. Okay, maybe he gave you a break, although I'm not so sure about that. You said he threw you down. He didn't care if you were injured.”

Liss had been thinking about that. She suspected she owed her survival to Iris. It made sense that she'd had no knowledge of Yates's schemes until the very end, when he needed her help to get Liss away from the hotel. He wouldn't have wanted her to think him capable of murder. He'd have assured her that Liss was not dead, that she would make her way to safety, but not in time to appear in the final show of the season.

“No beard plucking,” Liss promised. She'd only been half-serious anyhow.

“I'm sure Gordon can come up with some way to get a sample of his DNA,” Sherri put in.

“I still think having you show up at the taping is a bad idea,” Dan grumbled. “Yates is not going to take kindly to having you ruin everything for him.”

“I'll be perfectly safe with so many people around,” Liss insisted for what felt like the hundredth time. “You two will be there. I'll bet my next income-tax refund that Gordon will be, too. The place will probably be lousy with cops. Safe as houses.”

Whatever Dan intended to say next, he was cut off by a knock at the door. Everyone froze.

“Probably one of the cast or crew stopping by to ask if you've been found,” Sherri whispered.

“I don't want anyone knowing I'm back. They might let it slip to the wrong person.”

“It could be Gordon,” Dan said.

Liss pushed back her chair and hurried to the peephole. If not Gordon, then she expected to see Valentine on the other side, or perhaps Jane or Mel or Willetta.

For a moment she didn't recognize the person who stood there. Then her visitor turned slightly, bringing familiar features into view. With a gasp of surprise, and before she took the time to think about what she was doing, Liss opened the door to Desdemona Amendole.

Chapter Fifteen

D
esdemona had brought luggage.

A lot of luggage.

And she looked as if she hadn't slept in days.

Liss was still trying to get a coherent story out of her when Gordon Tandy arrived on the scene to tell them he had not been able to get a search warrant for the van. The moment he caught sight of Desdemona, he politely but firmly asked Dan, Sherri, and Liss to either leave the suite or go wait in the bedroom with the door closed. He had an interrogation to conduct.

Ten minutes passed, then another ten. The coffee Liss had brought with her into the bedroom had gone cold. “What is taking him so long? And why can't we be out there?”

Looking up from the current edition of
Down East,
supplied by the hotel, Sherri sent her a pitying look. “What did you expect? You know how the state police operate.”

“Yes, of course I do. But I don't think Desdemona was behind any of our troubles, and she certainly wasn't the one who carried me into the woods. She's not strong enough.”

Dan spoke from the window, where he'd been passing the time staring out at the ski slopes. “She was here when her mother died.”

“Are we going to start this again? I thought we all agreed that Oscar Yates was the villain here, except for maybe Roy Eastmont being the one who pushed the reporter off the balcony.”

“Yates had help. Maybe it was Desdemona driving the van, not Iris at all.”

Mouth open, an objection on the tip of her tongue, Liss would have argued the point had Gordon not knocked on the bedroom door at that precise moment and asked them to rejoin him in the suite's front room. A disgruntled-looking Desdemona sat on the sofa, scowling fiercely at the dogs, who had not been banished during her interrogation. They were trying to comfort her, obviously the last thing she wanted. She shoved Dandy away and swatted at Dondi.

“You're not getting them back,” Liss said.

For a moment, Desdemona looked confused. “Oh, you mean the dogs? They're all yours. Do whatever you want with them.”

“What about the provision in your mother's will?”

The other woman's face twisted into a mask of hatred. “That old bitch can't make me do anything now, not after the way she cheated me out of my inheritance.”

“The late Mrs. Amendole's . . . business ventures did not go as well as she'd hoped.” Gordon pulled one of the chairs away from the dining table, turned it around, and straddled it. His folded arms rested on the wooden back. “The money set aside for the care of her dogs is no longer available.”

“
None
of the money is left. There was supposed to be enough to last me the rest of my life.”

“Are you saying you intentionally gave your mother an overdose so you could inherit her money?” Liss looked from Desdemona to Gordon and back again. She didn't expect either one of them to answer her question, but she did notice that Desdemona wasn't in handcuffs. Did that mean she was off the hook for Deidre's death?

Desdemona heaved a great sigh. “I did not kill my mother. Her
accidental
overdose was just a lucky break for me, or so I thought. Turns out the only money left was her life insurance, just enough to pay for her funeral.” Her hands were still, folded in her lap, but her foot jiggled in an erratic rhythm.

“Deidre Amendole had a gambling problem,” Gordon said.

“She lost everything.” Desdemona's voice rose in a self-pitying whine. “Even the title to our house!”

“That's unfortunate.” Liss took the chair opposite Desdemona. Wary of being kicked, she pulled both feet up and curled them beneath her.

“You knew nothing about this?” Dan sounded skeptical.

“Oh, I had an inkling that something was wrong, but I had no idea just how bad things really were. I knew she'd bet a bundle—as it turned out, her last bundle—on herself to win the champion of champions title on
Variety Live.
”

Enlightenment dawned. “So that's why you wanted me to substitute for her in the act. Why you lied about the honorarium and your concern about being sued.”

“I knew the fix was in. Eastmont had been paid to make sure Deidre and her Dancing Doggies won. But it turns out that the wager was for
Deidre
to take the prize. No Deidre, no jackpot.”

“Good grief.” Liss struggled to take in all the ramifications. Hal Quarles had been right about the gambling, but it didn't have anything to do with the dirty tricks or Troy Barrigan's death or her own abduction.

Dan leaned against the counter in the kitchenette, keeping his thoughts to himself, while Sherri busied herself with the coffeemaker. In the lull after this latest bombshell, she handed steaming cups to Liss, Gordon, and Desdemona.

“If the outcome of
Variety Live
no longer matters,” Sherri asked, “why did you come back to Five Mountains?”

“Where else was I supposed to go?” Desdemona thrust the cup back at her. “I need something stronger than this. Call room service and order up a bottle of vodka.”

“Excuse me? That isn't your call.”

Drawing herself up, Desdemona glared at Liss. “The hell it isn't. This suite is in
my
name.
Variety Live,
or rather this hotel, is footing the bills through tomorrow, for the publicity when the show airs. Maybe I can stay even longer if the act wins.”

“
That's
why you came here?” Liss knew she sounded incredulous, but she was having a hard time processing Desdemona's presence, let alone the surprises she kept springing on them.

“Why not? The debt collectors were starting to drive me nuts. I'd already gotten an eviction notice.” She shrugged. “My plane ticket back to Portland was paid for. Why not use it? I figured this would be a quiet place where I could hole up and figure out what to do next.” She directed a sour look at Gordon Tandy. “Obviously, I was mistaken.”

“Don't you mean a quiet place to hide out?” Making a disapproving sound, Sherri lowered herself onto the arm of Liss's chair. Both of Desdemona's lower limbs were jittering when she shifted to glare at the two women. Sherry gave them a pointed look. “What's with the twitching?”

“If you must know, I suffer from restless leg syndrome.”

So, not nerves, after all. Or guilt. Sipping the coffee Sherri had brought her, Liss studied Desdemona's thin, wan face. She'd clearly had a rough week. Liss felt a little sorry for her . . . until Dondi sniffed the toe of her boot and Desdemona kicked him.

“You were in Maine a day earlier than you let on—before Dandy went missing. Are you sure you had nothing to do with the dognapping?”

“Of course I didn't. I wanted the win. I had . . . my own reasons to visit Portland.”

Liss waited.

“A job prospect, if you must know. Modeling. Something Valentine Veilleux set up for me. It fell through. Story of my life!”

“I've already verified her alibi,” Gordon said.

Liss shifted in her chair to see him better, lowering her feet to the floor. “Speaking of Valentine, why were you giving her such a hard time when you questioned her the other day?”

“I don't think—”

“Come on, Gordon. Give a little. I'd like to be able to trust
one
person connected with this show.”

The frown on his face was not encouraging, but then he shrugged. “It's hardly confidential. You could have done an Internet search and found it for yourself, or even asked Ms. Veilleux.”

She caught the flash of amusement in his expression and braced herself for what was coming.

“You and she have a lot in common. On an earlier assignment, because she travels around the way she does, with no fixed address, the police took a hard look at her as a suspect in a murder case. She ended up proving her innocence and at the same time providing them with the crucial evidence they needed to solve the crime.”

“What does Valentine have to do with anything?” Desdemona looked as sulky as a child denied a treat, now that no one was paying any attention to her.

“I take it you haven't kept up with what's been happening here. The dognapping was only the first of a series of . . . unfortunate events.” Leaving out what had happened to Troy Barrigan, Liss gave her a brief recap of the dirty tricks. “I believe Oscar Yates was responsible for all of them,” Liss added.

“Well, imagine that!” Desdemona leaned back against the sofa cushions, a sardonic smile on her thin lips. “Talk about pulling the wool over everyone's eyes!”

A sudden, suffocating memory of that blanket cutting off her supply of air had Liss going rigid. With exaggerated care, she set aside her now-empty coffee cup. “In case you missed the point, the obvious conclusion is that your mother may have been murdered by another of these attempts at sabotage that went horribly wrong.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Gordon started to speak, and Liss interrupted: “Yes, I know. Still waiting for the toxicology reports! But it's a good bet she was.”

Liss derived a moment's satisfaction from seeing Desdemona's wince at the turn of phrase. She wasn't about to apologize for her choice of words. Desdemona's treatment of the two Scotties paled compared to her callous attitude toward human life. Maybe she hadn't gotten along with her mother. Maybe she did feel betrayed by Deidre. But the mere possibility that the woman who'd given birth to her had been murdered should have been enough to spark strong emotion—if not outrage or horror, then at least shock.

“I will be performing with the dogs this afternoon,” Liss said. “In fact, I should go collect my costume from Mel.”

“What happened to keeping out of sight?” Gordon asked.

“What happened to your search warrant?”

“Working on it. Let me handle this, Liss.”

She shook her head. “I've already been through all the arguments with Dan and Sherri, Gordon. And, by the way, I don't think Oscar Yates pushed Troy Barrigan.” She explained her rationale for suspecting Roy Eastmont and got the reaction she expected—an unrevealing expression set in stone.

Gordon looked at his watch. He was already familiar with the schedule for recording the final show of the
Variety Live
season. “I don't want you showing your face until the last possible minute. Is that understood?”

“My costume?”

“I'll get it, and convince the wardrobe mistress to keep her mouth shut about you being back.”

The mental image of Gordon delivering her glamorous royal-blue gown—she pictured him in a bellhop's uniform—made Liss smile. “Deal.”

 

“The wheels of justice grind exceedingly slow.”

Liss knew she was misquoting, but she was pretty sure she had the gist of the sentiment. It was almost time to go down to the ballroom for the final “live” results show, and they hadn't heard a peep out of Gordon Tandy or anyone else in law enforcement since Gordon dropped off her costume. Sherri didn't count. She hadn't returned to Moosetookalook but was sticking by her friend's side, as was Dan.

“Some bodyguard,” Liss teased her. “I'd like to see you chasing the bad guys with that, um, protuberance.”

“What? Junior here?” She patted her baby bump. “He's going to grow up and follow in his mom and dad's footsteps. Just you wait and see.”

“Local police chief like you or sheriff's deputy like Pete?”

“Who knows? Maybe he'll run for sheriff. Penny Lassiter will have retired by the time he's old enough.”

“He might rebel—join the state police . . . or even the FBI.”

“Bite your tongue!”

“I'm glad you two are in such a good mood,” Dan said, interrupting their banter. “It's final decision time. Go or stay put?”

“I haven't changed my mind. I just have to slip into my costume and I'm good. Right guys?” Liss addressed the question to the two Scotties. Dandy gave a short, loud bark. Dondi wagged his tail.

Fifteen minutes later, pulling the dogs' carriers behind her and flanked by Sherri and Dan, Liss reached the entrance to the ballroom. Desdemona had remained in the suite. As soon as Liss had dressed, she'd locked herself in the bedroom.

“Last chance to change your mind,” Dan said.

“No way. Go fade into the background, both of you.”

“I've got my cell phone on vibrate,” Sherri said. “If Gordon calls with news, you'll see me slip out to the foyer to talk to him.”

“Got it. Now go.”

She gave them a few minutes to enter and get settled. Chairs had been set up behind the judges' table for hotel employees to watch the show. Perhaps fifty people had gathered. All of them had to sign confidentiality agreements handed out by Jane Smith as they entered the ballroom.

“Ready or not, here we go.” She drew in a deep breath and stepped inside.

At first no one noticed her. Jane had turned her attention to lining up the contestants for the opening shot. The fact that Liss and the dogs hadn't appeared at the dress rehearsal that morning meant she'd had to cover up an empty space. Liss wondered what excuse Roy Eastmont had worked out to explain her absence. Then again, given the way this show was set up, maybe he was planning to fake it right up to the end. There was probably footage he could use for everything except awarding the trophy.

“Liss?” The incredulous voice at her elbow belonged to Valentine Veilleux.

Turning, Liss smiled and shrugged. “Long story.”

“I'm so glad you're okay.” Valentine took another step toward her, then stopped. “I'd give you a hug if I didn't have three cameras around my neck.”