The Corpse Wore Tartan by Kaitlyn Dunnett

before he reached for the microphone. His outfit was once again identical to that worn by his twin, except for a slight difference in their black bow ties. The one Phil wore was made of some flat black fabric while Phineas’s shone and was probably satin.
    Liss moved deeper into the shadows. In the momentary silence, she could hear the wind rattling the windows behind her. Frowning, she parted the heavy drapes, pulled closed to conserve heat, and peered out into the darkness.
    The storm had steadily increased in intensity during the last couple of hours. Swirling snow still obscured the view, but it was obvious this was more than a moderate snowfall. So much for that morning’s weather forecast!
    Since the snow showed no sign of stopping any time soon, Liss was glad that all the members of SHAS planned to stay the night at The Spruces. She hated to think of anyone driving farther than downtown Moosetookalook in that mess.
    She didn’t much relish the prospect of even that short trip. Although it took barely five minutes to get home in good weather, the way was narrow and winding and could quickly turn treacherous on a stormy night.
    What sounded like a snarl distracted Liss from the white world beyond the window. The sound had come from a man at the table nearest her. He sat with fists clenched, glowering at Phineas MacMillan. Liss was almost certain she heard him grinding his teeth.
    What on earth had Phineas MacMillan said to get such a reaction? Liss hadn’t been listening to his address and hadn’t a clue, but a closer inspection of the people seated at the head table told her that Harvey MacHenry was also visibly upset. His chair was two places down from the speaker. He had risen half out of it and was leaning forward, twisted around so that he could glare directly into MacMillan’s face.
    â€œOh, relax, Harvey,” Phineas said with a laugh. “I’m done with you.”
    â€œBastard,” MacHenry muttered as he slumped back into his seat.
    Liss grew alarmed as one of the old man’s hands went to his heart. His face had an unhealthy pallor. She heard the tooth grinder curse under his breath as MacHenry fished a small case out of his pocket and extracted a pill. When he dry-swallowed it, the man in the audience relaxed a little.
    He must be MacHenry’s son, Liss decided, studying the younger man’s face. There was a distinct family resemblance. They both had noses that were large and slightly bulbous.
    â€œOf course we know how some people get ahead,” Phineas continued, leering at the crowd. “Pretty young girls are always a commodity, especially if they can smile and play the bagpipe at the same time.”
    Although he named no names, he looked straight at Russ Tandy’s wife. She was a tall, willowy brunette, her face given distinction by almond-shaped eyes. She wore the MacDougall tartan in a sash, which meant that was probably her family’s clan, and she looked as if she wanted to jump out of her chair and throttle Phineas MacMillan.
    Russ, Liss recalled, had a daughter, Amanda, from his first marriage. Like her father, she played the bagpipe. Mandy was away at graduate school now, but when she’d been younger she’d entered the Miss Special Smile pageant. Russ’s brother, Gordon, had told Liss that, though without any details.
    The innuendo in MacMillan’s comment struck Liss as particularly nasty, but before anyone could do more than glare at him, Phineas had moved on to his next snide remark. This one was aimed at Richardson Bruce. “It only makes sense that Rich Bruce would try to supervise the preparation of the haggis,” Phineas said. “After all, he’s had a lot of experience cooking the books.”
    Bruce’s normally ruddy complexion went even darker. No one in the audience laughed, but one or two looked thoughtful. Liss didn’t give much for Bruce’s chances of serving another term as SHAS