Kilt at the Highland Games Read Online Free PDF Page A

would have awakened her.
    â€œDo you remember when you last saw Angie or her children?” Sherri asked.
    Nicole thought it was a week earlier. Fred was sure he’d caught sight of young Bradley on Wednesday, racing across the town square with some of his friends.
    â€œDo you know the friends’ names?” Sherri asked, but there the couple could not help her.
    She moved on to the corner of Ash and Pine and entered the post office, which occupied the front half of the first floor. In the back was Betsy Twining’s Clip and Curl. Sherri herself had once lived in the second-floor apartment, right after she and Pete had first been married and before they’d moved into the apartment Mike now occupied.
    Julie Simpson was not much older than Sherri, but she had been Moosetookalook’s postmaster for nearly ten years. A sturdily built brunette with a loud, nasal voice, she had come to Maine from New York on vacation, met Will “Simple” Simpson on a nearby ski slope, and never left. She was delighted to see Sherri walk in.
    â€œFinally! Someone who knows what’s really going on.”
    â€œI only wish that were true.” Since she was there, Sherri collected the police department’s mail and her own. Moosetookalook was too small a place to rate door-to-door delivery.
    â€œGive me a break,” Julie wheedled. “You must know something.”
    â€œI know I’ve got three missing people and a suspicious fire, but that can’t be news to you.”
    Julie gave a raucous laugh. “Hardly.”
    â€œI know you weren’t here at that hour, Julie, but is there any chance that a mail truck was making a delivery just before three in the morning?”
    â€œThe mail comes in early, but not that early.”
    A witness at the crucial time had been too much to hope for, Sherri supposed, and the apartment upstairs was currently empty again. No joy there, either.
    She continued south along Ash, past the end of the town square, to canvass a few more houses, but her efforts yielded only more of the same—a frustrating dearth of information. Backtracking brought her to the section of Pine Street that paralleled the south side of the square. All three businesses on Pine had apartments upstairs. Mike Jennings lived above Carrabassett County Wood Crafts, Margaret Boyd above Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium, and Stu Burroughs above his ski shop.
    Mike had been in the office at the back of the municipal building when Margaret called to report the fire. Sherri made a mental note to ask them both when they’d last seen Angie, Beth, and Bradley, but that could wait. She didn’t want to interrupt Mike, and Margaret was at work at The Spruces. That left Stu.
    Her feet took her into Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium instead.
    * * *
    Since she had seen no point in sitting around the house and brooding, Liss had gone to work at the usual time. She’d entered by way of the stockroom, made a fresh pot of coffee, and filled her mug before she ventured out onto the sales floor to open her specialty gift shop to the public. When she’d unlocked the door and turned the CLOSED sign around to OPEN, she’d been careful not to look in the direction of the town square. It had been harder to avoid glancing through the plate-glass window at the front of the store. Even with her eyes averted, she’d caught a glimpse of the bright yellow police tape that cordoned off the ruins of Angie’s Books. All that remained standing was the brick chimney.
    If only to keep both her mind and her gaze fixed elsewhere, she’d decided to start pulling inventory for the Highland Games. She already had a list of the items she wanted to take to stock the booth she’d have there. They just had to be removed from the shelves and boxed for transport. For once they weren’t going very far—just up to the castle.
    Liss smiled for the first time all day as the old nickname for The