Read Kilt at the Highland Games for Free Online

Farleys.”
    â€œStu was the one who told us—Margaret and me—that there was no one in Angie’s apartment.”
    â€œHow did he know that?”
    â€œI assume one of the firemen told him.”
    â€œDid Stu say anything else?”
    Liss shook her head. “And I’d be astonished if Sandy or Zara saw anything. They live above the dance studio, but Sandy would have been busy fighting the fire, and I didn’t see Zara at all.”
    That didn’t surprise her, now that she thought about it. Zara’s priority, like Sherri’s, would have been keeping her children calm. With all the smoke in the air, she’d have made sure that her two little carrottops stayed inside the apartment.
    Liss and Dan’s neighbor on the other side was John Farley, an accountant. He used his living room as an office in tax season, but during the rest of the year it was just part of the family’s home.
    â€œThe Farleys have gone to visit her sister in Boothbay Harbor for a week,” she said aloud, belatedly remembering that she’d seen them load up their station wagon and head out on Thursday morning.
    â€œOne less place to stop,” Sherri said. “Although I suppose I should add the antiques shop on Birch to my list. They must have been able to see Angie’s Books from their place.”
    The antiques shop didn’t face the town square, but it did have a diagonal line of sight that went straight to the corner of Main and Elm. Liss considered for a moment before shaking her head. “The trees would have been in the way.”
    Flowers were more prevalent along the walkways within the town square, but two apple trees flanked the gazebo that doubled as a bandstand. Another grew next to the merry-go-round, while a small stand of birches had been planted by the monument to the Civil War dead. Near the center of the square grew a tall, nicely shaped blue spruce, the tree that the town decorated at Christmas. Until today, Liss had always been glad that none of them blocked her view through the Emporium’s front window.
    â€œI’d better talk to them anyway.” Heaving herself out of the chair, Sherri adjusted her utility belt, plunked her uniform hat back onto her head, and fixed a determined expression on her face. “Keep your fingers crossed that I get lucky . . . but don’t hold your breath.”
    After she left, Liss had a difficult time keeping a sense of doom and gloom at bay. The steady trickle of customers should have helped, but she soon realized that none of them were particularly interested in buying Scottish knickknacks.
    Locals wanted to know if she’d heard anything from Angie or to speculate about whether or not the fire had been set. Folks from away came inside to gawk at the dismal scene in air-conditioned comfort.
    * * *
    In late morning, a familiar-looking, barrel-shaped man entered the shop. Liss recognized him at once as one of the two strangers she had noticed at the fire. At the time, she’d suspected he was a guest at The Spruces. That he was still around made that seem even more likely.
    The tourist clothes he sported backed up her assumption. He was dressed in shorts that showed off stumpy, stocky, hairy legs. A snug T-shirt revealed that his torso was muscular rather than flabby but did little to enhance his overall appearance. He was, Liss decided, shaped not so much like a barrel as a beer keg.
    The woman who came in with him had a long-suffering look on her face. Liss pegged her as the walking beer keg’s wife. She was not surprised when they separated to explore the contents of the shop. The woman headed straight for the cozy corner and, after a few minutes of browsing, settled into one of the chairs with a biography of Mary, Queen of Scots.
    Liss shifted her attention back to the man. He was examining shelves stocked with imported Scottish foodstuffs, everything from shortbread to canned haggis. That made her wonder if