Free A Wee Christmas Homicide by Kaitlyn Dunnett Page B

more, opened its mouth, and meowed.
    “Oh, for Heaven’s—!” Liss scooped up the tiny kitten, cuddling it against her chest for a moment before she set it down on the sales counter. “Aren’t you the cutest thing!”
    It was only a few months old, barely weaned. Its head seemed too big for the rest of its body. On closer examination, Liss discovered a few specks of white in the long, black fur, but not enough to make much difference.
    “Where did you come from?” She didn’t expect an answer. Besides, she could make an educated guess.
    At this time of year, the end of the semester at the Fallstown branch of the University of Maine, the number of abandoned pets in the area always underwent a dramatic increase. Departing students didn’t usually dump cats and dogs this far north, but for all Liss knew, one of them could have been in town looking for a Christmas present for dear old mom and dad.
    That the kitten could have strayed from a litter and have a family that loved it and was even now frantically searching for it seemed much less likely. Just in case, Liss made a sign and stuck it in her window: FOUND—BLACK KITTEN, INQUIRE WITHIN. She also phoned the local animal shelter, located in Fallstown, in case someone went looking there for the little feline.
    After a dash next door to her house, Liss returned toting a spare litter box, a box of clumping cat litter, a can of cat food, and two bowls, all of which she set up in the tiny bathroom next to the stockroom. Putting a cat among the pigeons and the other poultry did not strike Liss as a good idea.
    The kitten was already chowing down on tuna treat by the time Liss filled the second bowl with water from the tap. She watched, enjoying the little animal’s antics, until she heard the jangle of sleigh bells.
    “Okay, Junior. I’m going to have to leave you here. Try to be good.” She stepped out into the shop, then turned and pulled one of the soft, fluffy towels off the rack, folded it, and placed it on the floor. “Take a nap,” she suggested, and closed the door. She left the light on.
    Lovey FitzPatrick and another woman stood by the sales counter talking together in low tones. It took Liss a moment to recognize the second customer as Felicity Thorne.
    “Good afternoon, ladies. How may I help you?”
    “Do you have more Tiny Teddies, too?” Thorne’s ex wife asked.
    “No. Sorry. I—”
    They didn’t wait to hear her explanation. Both women were out the door and heading for Marcia’s place before Liss could finish her sentence.
    “Nice chatting with you, too,” she called after them.
    Paying customers trickled in for the rest of the day. In between, Liss rearranged stock and checked on the kitten. Each time she found it sound asleep on the towel.
    The nearer it got to closing time at five, the harder Liss had to fight not to yawn. Her restless night was catching up with her. She handed a Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium bag to a woman in a suede coat, wished her happy holidays, and shifted her attention to the next person in line.
    The woman, a small-boned, rather thin creature in a herringbone wool coat, had her head down, digging for something in her purse. All Liss could see at first, beneath a matching herringbone wool hat, was gray-blond hair and a bit of darkly suntanned skin. The latter was an unusual sight, especially in Maine in winter, but in the last few days customers from all over the place had been in town. It didn’t surprise Liss that one of the snowbirds—northerners who spent the cold months in southern states—had come to Moosetookalook to shop.
    Then the woman looked up and Liss realized she wasn’t just any snowbird.
    “Hello, Liss. You’re looking well.”
    “Aunt Margaret!” Liss felt her jaw drop. “You’re not supposed to be here until Friday!”
    That wasn’t the only surprise, but it was the only one Liss dared voice. Where was the comfortably plump Margaret MacCrimmon Boyd she’d last seen at her parent’s