The Corpse Wore Tartan Read Free Page B

fifty dollars?”
    During her previous dealings with Richardson Bruce, all of them protracted negotiations concerning the cost of various items needed for the Burns Night Supper, Liss had learned he was the sort of man who’d squeeze every nickel till it screamed. Since he was almost a caricature of the penny-pinching Scot, she was not surprised when the mere mention of additional expenses made him back off.
    â€œNo. No, I’m certain…that is”—he swallowed convulsively—“I’ll just run along and check on the whiskey.” He inclined his head in farewell. “Ms. MacCrimmon. Ms. Cloutier.” He pronounced the chef’s surname in the Parisian way, no doubt trying to show off how worldly and well-traveled he was.
    Shaking her head, Liss watched him go, then sent a wry smile in Angeline’s direction.
    â€œClue-chee,” she muttered, scowling fiercely. “It’s pronounced ‘Clue-chee.’” Angeline might have been trained in the best Cordon Bleu tradition, but her roots were solidly French-Canadian. Her birthplace was only fifty miles from Moosetookalook, in the small city of Lewiston, Maine. Angeline’s usual pronunciation of that place name was “Loys-tun.”
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    Dan Ruskin hesitated with his hand on the kitchen door. Liss hadn’t seen him yet. She was too busy slicing cold ham for a sandwich.
    When he’d heard Mary’s account of Liss’s run-in with the two guests in the lobby, his first reaction had been sheer panic. He’d come looking for Liss to make sure she was okay. Plainly, she was. A flare of temper had him clenching his fists. Liss MacCrimmon was too damn impatient for her own good. She had a tendency to rush in, to do everything herself, without waiting for backup. One of these days, she was going to get herself hurt. Since Dan was in love with her, that would just about kill him.
    Deliberately, he forced himself to relax. He’d learned the hard way not to try to run Liss’s life for her. Not if he wanted to be a part of it. And he did. A permanent part. He’d been working up to asking her to marry him for some time now.
    Liss glanced up and saw him. Her blue-green eyes—they changed hue depending on what colors she was wearing—lit with pleasure. “Hey, Dan. Want a sandwich?”
    â€œLove one.” He crossed the busy kitchen to fetch up beside a small table tucked into a corner of the huge room.
    Today, Liss’s eyes were more blue than green, reflecting the bouquets of hand-painted forget-me-nots that decorated her scarf. She was wearing a simple wool pantsuit—very businesslike—but on her, even plain clothing looked great.
    â€œI ran into Harvey MacHenry earlier,” he said as he foraged in the cabinets for two tall glasses and a couple of plates.
    Liss looked up sharply, visibly bracing herself for bad news. “What nit did he want to pick?”
    Dan chuckled. “Relax. He was full of compliments for both you and The Spruces. Seems like a nice old guy.” MacHenry was eighty if he was a day, but spry for all that.
    â€œWell, that makes a change. I’ve never met such a contentious group of people in my life, and it isn’t just that they’re difficult for me to work with. They don’t agree with each other about anything, either. Except that they want to hold this supper every January.”
    Dan set two places, then went to stand directly behind Liss. Lifting her long, dark hair out of the way, he began to massage her neck and shoulders. They were rock hard with tension.
    â€œRough day?”
    â€œGetting better.” She almost purred.
    Dan kept kneading until Liss shook him off. He repressed a sigh. He enjoyed the feel of her under his hands and the light fragrance of her shampoo. She’d never been one for heavy perfumes.
    â€œYou can finish later.” There was a promise in her eyes. “I still need to check a few