The Dog Who Knew Too Much

by Krista Davis

  “I’ll get you fired,” he added. “I have a lot of clout. Wait until your boss hears how you’ve treated me.”

  I met the ugly gaze of his intoxicated eyes. He clearly didn’t know that I was a co-owner of the inn and my own boss. “I look forward to that.”

  Trixie barked at him ferociously. Undoubtedly, in my defense.

  The nice thing to do would have been to take him home. But after being harassed by him, I decided he could find his own way home. After all, the rental house was only a few blocks away.

  I turned the golf cart down the closest street to get away from him. I looked back, though, and felt reassured when I saw him staggering toward his rental in the correct direction.

  Rae Rae was right. She was lucky that she hadn’t married him. They would probably have divorced in short order, but he would have made her life miserable.

  As I drove along, I thought about how amazing it was that he could come across as a good guy on the screen when he was so different in real life. And now poor Marlee was at his rental house waiting for him. Well, she was only a few years younger than me. Surely, she would leave when she saw how drunk he was. I wondered if there were other people in the house. Or had he left all the lights ablaze when he went out?

  Trixie and I spent another hour cruising the sleepy streets of Wagtail before calling it a night and heading home.

  Unless we were expecting someone to check in, the registration lobby door was locked at nine every evening. After I parked the golf cart, Trixie and I strolled to the front of the inn and entered the building to the sound of hysterical laughter.

  Twinkletoes waited for us on the grand staircase. I picked her up and tickled her chin. It didn’t take long for Trixie to find the fun.

  Casey, our night manager who looked remarkably like the young Harry Potter, right down to the round wire glasses and a shock of dark hair that fell onto his forehead, was playing poker with Finch, Jim, Camille, and Pippin.

  “Pippin knows how to play poker?” I asked.

  “Not really,” said Camille. “We deal him an open hand. He’s pretty happy about it. Instead of chips he plays with dog treats.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Trixie sniffed at Pippin’s pile of dog treats from a safe distance. “Pippin seems to be winning.”

  They collapsed into giggles.

  Finch finally recovered enough to choke out, “It’s painfully embarrassing that we’re not smart enough to beat a dog.”

  I watched them with a smile. Finally, they were bonding, becoming friends. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Trixie and Twinkletoes ran ahead of me up the grand staircase to our apartment.

  * * *

  I slept later than usual the next morning. Small wonder after two nights of excursions. Although it was Sunday, I saw that Mr. Huckle had snuck in and left a tray for us. My tea was still hot in an insulated carafe. Twinkletoes and Trixie enjoyed their treats, but probably not as much as I loved my chocolate croissant. It was the perfect way to start a day. Neither Oma nor I had anticipated that kind of service by Mr. Huckle, but he enjoyed doing it, and it made us feel like royalty. We missed being pampered on his days off.

  A gentle breeze touched my gauzy white curtains. Outside the sky was a heavenly blue. Not a single cloud dared mar the summer sky. I stretched and looked out the French doors. But the sight of the man who claimed Trixie belonged to him cast an immediate shadow over my day. He sat on a bench in the green that was so close to the plaza, he could watch the comings and goings from the inn.

  I showered in a hurry and dressed in a black skort with a pink floral pattern. I slid on the matching pink top as fast as I could. Black sneakers completed my noseprinting ensemble. I took the time to pull my hair back in a ponytail.

  When I peeked out the French doors again, he was still there, looking so comfortable that if I hadn’t had a run-in with him, I wouldn’t have even noticed him. Adding tiny gold hoops in a hurry, I grabbed a leash that I hadn’t used in ages. I wasn’t taking any chances on Trixie getting away from me. Besides, there was something about a leash that seemed to connote ownership. It didn’t actually mean anything. After all, if that guy snapped a leash on Trixie, it wouldn’t mean she belonged to him. Still, I fastened a harness on her and hooked a leather leash to it. I swung the large loop of the other end over my shoulder and head like I would the strap of a cross-body bag.

  I phoned Dave as we walked down the stairs. He wouldn’t be able to do much, but, if nothing else, I hoped he could find out who the man was.

  Dave answered right away. When I told him the guy who wanted Trixie was watching the inn, he agreed to come over as soon as he could.

  We scooted through the main lobby and over to the reception lobby, where I could take Trixie out to the potty without being so obvious. The dog bathroom was probably somewhat visible from the plaza, but the man might not notice us if he was focused on the front of the inn.

  I was relieved to see Rae Rae walking toward the inn.

  “Oh! You look so pretty,” she said. “I love pink. But honey, you need some bling!” Rae Rae actually flashed when she moved. The sun caught the tiny crystal beads adorning the neckline of her yellow dress. Large, chunky crystals on her bracelets caught the light as she reached out to me, and matching crystals hung from her earlobes.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You’d better. Rumor has it that Sugar is pulling out everything in her arsenal.”

  “You sound like a resident of Wagtail. How can you possibly know about that?”

  “I have often wondered that myself. As far as I can figure, I look safe, like everybody’s crazy aunt. And they tell me things. I don’t even have to ask. They just pour their hearts out to me. So I have heard quite a bit about your friend Holmes. Everybody is rooting for you, except maybe for that darling Dr. Engelknecht.”

  This was just too embarrassing. “You went to see Dr. Engelknecht?”

  “I didn’t actually go to see him. I met him the first night we were here.” She winked at me. “Dr. Engelknecht is awfully cute.”

  I was already embarrassed, and now I could feel the heat of a flush rising in my cheeks and to the tops of my ears.

  Folding a dog waste bag over my hand, I walked over to collect Trixie’s poo. When I stood up, I spied Camille jogging in a loose-fitting heathered-blue T-shirt that read Wake Up and Run and a pair of black pants that were skintight. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  My gaze drifted to the bench where the man had been watching the inn. He was still there.

  Camille slowed to a walk as she neared the bench. She glanced casually in his direction and did a double take. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Her eyes wide, she turned her head away from him quickly and ran past him like the devil himself was behind her.

  When she saw Rae Rae and me, she ran toward us. Breathing heavily, she panted, “Good morning!”

  We greeted her, but I noticed that she made a point of standing where the man on the bench couldn’t see her. “Do you know the fellow on the bench?” I asked.

  “Who?” she asked innocently.

  I grinned. She was a pretty good actress. I pointed in his direction. “That guy.”

  “I don’t think so. Whew! I’d better hurry and shower. I’m starved. Save some breakfast for me.”

  The second the doors closed behind Camille, Rae Rae turned to me. “Who is he, and why is she lying?”

  Seventeen

  At that moment, Dave strolled up.

  “He’s still there.” I tried to look nonchalant so the man wouldn’t take off. “See him? In the navy blue shirt?” I explained to Rae Rae that the man on the bench had claimed Trixie belonged to him.

  “You must be terrified!”

  “I am. I don’t like him sitting there. I’m worried that he’s waiting for an opportunity to grab Trixie.”


  “Relax, Holly.” Dave patted my shoulder. “I’ve got him in my sights now. I’ll figure out what he’s up to.”

  “Thanks, Dave.”

  Rae Rae and I walked inside the inn and paused at the ladies’ room to wash our hands.

  Rae Rae eyed me. “That’s awfully peculiar. What in the world would Camille have to do with that man, and why would she deny knowing him?”

  We walked toward the dining area. “I’m glad you picked up on that, too. I plan to find out. I’m just not sure how.”

  “Oooh, I love being a sleuth. I’ve always thought I would have been an excellent private detective. No one would ever think a thing of me nosing around asking questions. You know, it’s that crazy-aunt image that I seem to project.”

  I sidled over to the window in the lobby and looked out. Rae Rae peered out beside me.

  Dave was chatting with the man. We watched as he pulled out a wallet. I guessed he was showing Dave identification.

  “I’m ordering breakfast,” said Rae Rae. “I’m absolutely famished.” She walked over to the dining area.

  I followed her somewhat reluctantly with Trixie still on a leash. She didn’t appear to mind it much until she saw Gingersnap and Stella and wanted to run to her friends. Dave was right outside. It wasn’t as though the man could dash in and steal her in front of everyone. I unlatched the leash, and Trixie sprang happily toward her buddies.

  Rae Rae and I joined Oma and ordered eggs Benedict. I even splurged on a side of bacon.

  Shelley had just delivered tea and coffee when Dave arrived and took a seat at our table. She hastily brought Dave a cup of coffee, too.

  “The mystery man says his name is Wade Holt. He’s here on vacation and read about Trixie in Dog Life. According to him, he recognized her as his missing dog right away. He never imagined she would still be alive.” Dave gulped coffee like he was parched.

  “Because he abandoned her!” I huffed.

  “I told him he would have to take you to court and bring some evidence to prove ownership.”

  “And?” I asked, afraid to hear what he had said.

  “He got a little surly about that. At any rate, he knows I’m watching him.”

  “Well, that doesn’t help at all. He could just sweep in and steal her when I’m not looking.”

  Dave tilted his head and smiled. “Really, Holly? When exactly is Trixie not right by your side?”

  “When she smells corpses.”

  “She’s already done that this week. Once was plenty. Just keep her close by. Wade will probably give up and go home.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I grumbled.

  Dave shot me another look. “He hasn’t done anything illegal yet, unless you want to press charges about your encounter on the mountain.”

  Oma frowned. “Did he threaten you?”

  “Mostly, he scared me. I don’t know what would have happened if LaRue hadn’t shown up.” I shook my head. “I hope you’re right, Dave.”

  He raised his coffee mug to me. “Okay, then. I have to get back to work. I’ve got a murder on my hands.”

  I winced. “Sorry. I just don’t want a confrontation. Or to lose Trixie.”

  “Call me if he gives you any trouble.” Dave stood up.

  “What?” asked Oma. “No brunch for you?”

  “Some other time, Liesel. I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Is it about Diane?” asked Rae Rae.

  “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this. But for once, none of the local gossip is leading me anywhere.”

  He waved and strode out of the inn like he was in a hurry.

  After brunch, I helped Shadow set up tables on the plaza in front of the inn for noseprinting. I was much relieved to see that Wade had left. Nevertheless, I kept Trixie on my hands-free leash.

  I unfurled a banner that Oma had ordered from the local printshop. It read, A noseprint is a dog’s fingerprint! That certainly got the point across. I hung it on the front of a long table while Shadow retrieved the noseprinting kits from the storage room.

  Oma carried a basket outside. “These are rewards for dogs who get their noses printed.”

  I peeked inside. They were white-iced dog cookies in the shape of every dog’s archenemy—the squirrel. “They’ll love these!”

  We hadn’t started yet, so I stepped aside to phone Clara Dorsey and the Hoovers. It might be wise for them to attend, in case someone showed up with their dogs.

  When Pippin arrived, his entire entourage was with him. Marlee wore her blonde wig and oversize sunglasses. There were a lot of reasons that women wore wigs, so I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the sunglasses caused me to believe she didn’t want to be recognized. There was something strange about it.

  Pippin demonstrated how a good dog patiently waited while his nose was printed. And then he happily chomped on his squirrel cookie while his fans applauded.

  We opened for noseprinting. I passed around forms to be filled out and accepted payments from non-residents of Wagtail, while Shadow did the actual printing. Several people brought their cats for noseprinting as well. Generally speaking, the dogs were better behaved about it. The cats seemed to consider it undignified and take it as a personal affront.

  Meanwhile, Pippin posed for pictures and played with fans. Jim was teaching Finch and Camille the correct commands for Pippin to roll over, hide his eyes with his paws, and look guilty. The crowd in line loved it.

  At four o’clock, we ran out of steam and noseprinting ink. Shadow and I folded up the tables and carried them back to the inn. It was tough going with Trixie on her leash. I figured it was safe to take the leash off since we were inside the inn.

  We loaded the tables into the elevator, which Trixie refused to enter. Maybe being closed up in a shed was the reason she was afraid of small, confined spaces. Shadow took the tables to the basement, and I used the stairs so Trixie could come along. When they were neatly stashed away, the three of us walked up the stairs.

  Right in front of us, Pippin led Jim, Camille, and Finch down the hallway. They wore bathing suits and carried towels.

  “Time for Pippin’s swim?” I asked.

  Jim rubbed his hands gleefully. “I don’t know if Pippin has ever been swimming before. This should be interesting.”

  I was glad to see them bonding. Even Finch appeared to be having a good time.

  We followed them as far as the registration lobby. Shadow seemed very happy to be going home.

  “It’s been a busy weekend for you. Why don’t you take tomorrow and Tuesday off?”

  “No kidding?”

  I laughed. “Go on and get some rest.”

  Shadow high-fived me and rushed out the door.

  “That was nice of you,” said Oma from our office. “I’m glad you did that.”

  Trixie and I walked into the office, where I flopped onto the sofa. “I’m glad we made all those noseprints. It might turn out to be a blessing in the future.”

  “It might also discourage people from stealing our dogs. I hope word gets out that Wagtail is not an ideal place for dog theft.”

  “Still no news on the missing dogs?”

  “I’m afraid not. And with Diane’s untimely death, all eyes have moved to that instead.” Oma glanced down at a scrap of paper. “Her sister Donna is arriving today. If I’m not mistaken, the police cleared out her refrigerator and pantry to test the food for the fentanyl that killed her.”

  “Want me to put together a basket of goodies for her?”

  Oma smiled. “I think that would be lovely. You can leave Trixie here with Gingersnap and Stella. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

  “Great. I’ll just dash upstairs to change.”

  I closed the door to Oma’s office and ran up to my apartment. After a super quick shower, I slid on a violet summ
er dress and sandals, grabbed my purse, and was off to Wagtail’s primary grocery store.

  I found it surprisingly difficult to shop for someone I didn’t know. I liked two-percent milk, but a lot of people didn’t drink milk at all. She probably drank coffee for breakfast. But did Diane have a coffee maker or a Keurig? Yikes! In the end, I did the best I could. Fresh raspberries and blackberries, cereal, a loaf of bread, butter, sliced ham and the deli’s fabulous potato salad, milk, sugar, salt, a bottle of wine, and eggs fresh from a local farm. I hoped I had hit enough items to tide her over until Donna could buy what she liked. On the way to Diane’s house, I stopped at Sweet Dog Barkery. The owner’s grandfather, Mr. Ledbetter, dusted off his hands and rushed to the pastry showcase to help me. He was adorable with fluffy white hair and perpetually red cheeks.

  “Howdy, Miss Holly. What can I get for you?”

  “Everything looks so tempting. How about an assortment of a dozen cookies”—I was tempted by the brownies but thought better of it—“a cannoli, and a blueberry turnover, please.”

  Mr. Ledbetter carefully prepared a box for me and tied it with their trademark chocolate pawprint ribbon. “You be sure and tell your aunt Birdie that I threw in something extra just for you.” He smiled and winked at me.

  Okay. I had no idea what that was about. “Thank you for your help. I’ll give Aunt Birdie your best.”

  At the door, I turned to look back at him. He waved at me.

  When I pulled up in front of Diane’s house, a Sugar Maple Inn golf cart was already parked there. I recognized the inn’s logo on the front. Laden with groceries, I walked to Diane’s door and rang the bell, which set off a torrent of barking.

  When Donna opened the door, I saw the family resemblance to Diane immediately. She had the same nose and high cheekbones. She was chubbier than Diane and wore her hair in a very short cut. I introduced myself and handed her two grocery bags.

  “This is so thoughtful! Won’t you come in?”