A Wee Christmas Homicide by Kaitlyn Dunnett Read Free Book Online

suspicion.
    “What do you think you’re looking at?” she snarled.
    Before Liss could reply—not that she intended to—Thorne’s ex turned away. She gave him a shove that propelled him back into the toy store and strode through the door after him. It slammed behind them with such a resounding crash that Liss was surprised the glass didn’t break.
    Shaking her head, she retreated to the sanctuary of Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. She had too much work of her own to spend time worrying about domestic discord at the toy shop.
     
    Liss awoke on Saturday morning to find herself nose to nose with Lumpkin. His was cold and wet. “We’ve had this discussion before,” she told the big cat. “You’re not supposed to sleep on the bed.”
    He stretched out an oversized paw and patted her cheek with it.
    “Think you’re cute, don’t you?” But she ran her palm over his furry head and back in a long, loving stroke before she swung her legs off the side of the bed and got up.
    The movement was fluid, causing only the faintest twinge and accompanied by a little early morning stiffness—both reminders that she’d had major knee surgery less than two years earlier. Liss did a few stretches to limber up, but nothing close to the routine she’d once gone through to start every day.
    Her career as a professional Scottish dancer had ended abruptly with an injury that, while it did not prevent her from leading a normal life, had put an end to doing high-impact jigs and reels as a way of making a living. Liss still missed being part of Strathspey , a touring company intended to be to Scottish-Americans what Riverdance was to those of Irish descent. Gradually, however, she had come to appreciate what she was doing now. These days, the occasional ache in her knee and the stiffness that sometimes set in when she went too long without moving were petty annoyances rather than emotionally painful reminders of what she had lost.
    A quick glance through the corner window as she dressed was enough to tell Liss there was still no snow on the ground. In fact, it looked to be another clear, cloudless day. There were, however, two strange cars parked on the street in front of Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. A pickup truck she didn’t recognize sat idling outside The Toy Box.
    The number of vehicles had increased to seven by the time Liss slipped across the back way to the shop in preparation for opening at eight. A hopeful sign, she thought, and pretty much right on schedule.
    Word of a cache of Tiny Teddies in Maine had hit the Internet even before the first newspaper and television ads appeared on Thursday, along with a brief news item on the partridge-in-the-pear-tree ceremony. That was how Felicity Thorne had discovered what her ex was up to.
    By Friday morning, Liss had received several dozen e-mail inquiries. She’d sent the same reply to everyone: “Come to Moosetookalook, Maine, to shop. No mail orders will be filled.”
    As she’d expected, there had not been an immediate upsurge in business. Friday had been almost as slow as it usually was. Liss had been prepared for that. After all, most people had jobs. If they were going to drive to central Maine, a solid four hours northwest of Boston, they had to have the time to do it. That meant the weekend…and here were the first of them.
    She loaded the change from the safe into the cash register, turned on the lights, made one last check of the displays, pasted a smile on her face, and opened the door. That was the last moment she had to take a deep breath for the rest of the day.
    Within an hour, at least in terms of what was usual for a small, rural Maine town, hordes of shoppers had descended upon Moosetookalook. Liss was down to sixty Tiny Teddies in kilts by the end of the day. She’d done pretty well selling other items, too, and been kept so busy by the steady stream of customers that she’d barely had time to scarf down a couple of power bars and a soda for lunch and