Scone Cold Dead by Kaitlyn Dunnett Page A

were injured, they had to find a replacement in a hurry.”
    â€œYes. Someone named Sarah.” Liss pinned Cal with a look. “And that brings me back to sex. I hear Sarah threatened to charge Victor with harassment. Know anything about it?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t have held up in court. It was just a case of Victor being Victor. There was no harm in it. Anyway, Ray got her calmed down before she left.”
    â€œRay? What’s Ray got to do with anything?”
    â€œHe’s . . . how shall I put this? He’s sweet on Sarah.”
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    The remaining members of Strathspey were lodged at Lakeside Cabins. Located a couple of miles outside Fallstown on the shores of Loon Lake, these small housekeeping cabins, each furnished with a wood stove for heat, rented at outrageous rates in the summer. Since it was March, the owners had offered six of them to Liss at bargain-basement prices.
    Liss wondered what was going on as she drove past the first five cabins and saw no lights on in any of them. When she came to the sixth, a bit removed from the others and sheltered by spruce trees, she understood. The heavenly aroma of garlic-laced spaghetti sauce wafted out to them, along with the smell of an apple-wood fire.
    â€œFiona’s cooking.”
    In answer, Sherri’s stomach growled.
    â€œShe’ll have made plenty. Come on.”
    Liss put off asking questions in favor of eating. The cabin was already crowded—everyone had brought chairs from their own cabins—but the dancers quickly found space for Liss and Sherri to sit on Fiona’s bed and supplied them with heavy-duty paper plates loaded down with meatballs, sauce made with mushrooms and onions as well as tomatoes and garlic, and thick slices of store-bought Italian bread.
    As she ate, Liss listened to the cheerful chatter around her. Except for Fiona, the others—Jean Ferguson, Anna Buchanan, Laura MacGowan, Serena Guthrie, and Denise Johnson—seemed very young to her, barely into their twenties. They talked about dancing, about clothes, and about television shows or movies they’d seen in hotel rooms all over the country during the tour. No one mentioned Victor.
    That was Fiona’s doing, Liss supposed. She was hardly ancient—only in her early forties—but she’d fallen early on into the role of mother hen. She was the one who took newcomers under her wing, the one who always seemed to have the knack of keeping morale high, even on the most discouraging days on tour.
    Liss hated to destroy the mood, but it was getting late and she still had to drive back to Moosetookalook. She spared a brief thought for Sandy and Zara. She hadn’t wanted to abandon them, but she was doing this to help them and they could hardly have come with her. She hoped they’d found something at her house to fix for supper. She’d planned to take them out to eat tonight.
    â€œSo, ladies,” she began. “Did Detective Tandy come by to talk to all of you?”
    This produced a flurry of comment on Gordon’s good looks, which Liss tried to ignore. She could sense Sherri’s grin even without looking at her friend.
    â€œYes, but did anyone have anything useful to tell him?” she interrupted. “The sooner he can clear things up, the better, you know.”
    â€œWhat’s to tell?” Serena asked. “Victor was the boss. We mostly tried to stay under his radar.”
    â€œHe was an old grouch,” Jean complained. “I didn’t think so when I first joined up, but he sure did yell a lot the last couple of months.”
    A chorus of agreement greeted this observation, making Liss wonder, and not for the first time that day, if something had been wrong with Victor besides his allergy to mushrooms. “Victor changed?” she asked. “Was he having a nervous breakdown or something?”
    â€œSomething?” Fiona asked.
    â€œWell, was he taking drugs? I don’t