The Dog Who Knew Too Much

by Krista Davis

  “Honey, it’s just an owl.”

  But then I heard it, too. And it wasn’t an owl.

  Twenty-seven

  Very faint high-pitched yapping came from somewhere. It didn’t stop.

  Stella ran along the road, turned to the right, and waited. After a moment, she trotted back to the golf cart and barked at us insistently. In a heartbeat, Gingersnap, Pippin, and Trixie flew off the golf cart. In the beam of the headlights, I saw Stella lead the way with the others chasing after her. They vanished from my line of sight.

  I followed them in the golf cart. The headlights exposed an unpaved lane to the right. I turned and could make out the dogs running ahead in the distance. They disappeared when they rounded a bend, but when I caught up, I could see Trixie’s white fur as she raced along a stretch through the woods. I was getting a little nervous about being in an isolated spot. But no matter how much I called them, the dogs were on a mission and refused to stop.

  The lights on the golf cart finally fell on a small log cabin with a rustic porch and a stone chimney. I switched off the golf cart lights in case someone was home. But the truth was that the dog with the piercing bark had probably already awakened the residents. No one could sleep through that racket.

  A bluish light flickered in one window. I suspected it was a TV set. Either someone was up or had fallen asleep watching TV.

  I needed to get the dogs back on the golf cart and out of there before someone saw us!

  Still, no lights turned on. And then, to my horror, I was close enough to see Stella slam her paw through a window screen and rip it open.

  “Stella!” I hissed. “Come!”

  But a tiny Yorkie came to me instead, followed by a Scottie. The Yorkie had stopped yapping and raced to me like I was her best friend. Both of the dogs hopped onto the golf cart as though they had been expecting me to pick them up. They had to be the missing Dolly and Tavish.

  Panic set in. I held my breath, hoping the door of the cabin wouldn’t open. All I could think of at that moment was getting out of there as fast as I could. Especially before the people in the cabin realized that the dogs were gone.

  Happily, the other dogs followed Dolly and Tavish to the golf cart. It was crowded, but they all fit in. I turned it around in the dark and didn’t flick on the lights until we hit the tiny road. I hauled down the mountain as fast as I could possibly go.

  I sagged with relief when we drove into the town of Wagtail. As far as I knew, no one had seen me or was following us. But what to do with the dogs? Should I take them to their homes? Should I call Dave and wake him? Should I take them all back to the inn and deal with the logistics in the morning?

  The latter would be the most sensible, but if it were Trixie who had been missing, I would have wanted her back in my arms immediately. And there was one other thing to consider. Dave might want the advantage of surprise if he was going to pay the house a visit. By morning, the dognappers would realize Dolly and Tavish were gone, and they might get out of town themselves. I phoned Dave.

  His voice was groggy when he answered the phone. “Please tell me that Trixie didn’t find another corpse.”

  “Nope. But Stella found the stolen dogs.”

  “What?” He no longer sounded groggy.

  “Should I take them to their owners, or do you need to see them?”

  “Wait a minute. Where were they?”

  “In a cabin way off the road that goes up to Mr. Mason’s cabin. I’ll meet you at Clara’s house.”

  “No. Take the dogs to the inn and secure them. I’ll call for backup and meet you outside of Hair of the Dog.”

  “Okay.” I hung up and steered toward the inn. When I parked, I expected them to run in every which direction. After all, Tavish and Dolly would be eager to go home. But either some kind of pack mentality set in or they were exhausted, because they all followed me up the stairs to the porch and inside the inn.

  Twinkletoes leaped to the top of the desk at the sight of the dogs.

  I ran my hand over her head.

  Pippin raced to the Dogwood Room. I hurried over to see what was going on.

  Jim sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Pippin!”

  Pippin waggled like crazy and licked Jim’s face.

  Jim hugged Pippin. “Where have you been, Pippin? I was worried about you!”

  “I’m glad to see you back. Did everything go okay?” I asked.

  Jim sighed and ruffled the fur on Pippin’s head. “As well as it could, I guess. I hope they find the killer soon so I’ll be off the hook.”

  I had so many questions. But I needed to meet Dave and didn’t have time to chat. “Well, I know you’ll sleep better now that Pippin is home.”

  I started up the grand staircase, calling the dogs and Twinkletoes. I feared tiny Dolly might have trouble with the stairs, but she soared up them like the bigger dogs. Once they were safely in my apartment, I took care to close the dog door so no one would escape. I put down fresh water for them. I had no idea when Dolly and Tavish had last eaten, though now that I saw them up close they seemed to be in pretty good shape. Still, I took a few minutes to feed them all a midnight snack. They settled down, and I suspected they would all be asleep shortly.

  Twinkletoes didn’t seem to mind that Stella, Dolly, Tavish, and Gingersnap were spending the night with us. When the dogs were settled in our apartment, Twinkletoes roamed, sniffing each dog discreetly. It was as though she tiptoed among them. Either they didn’t notice, or they were so worn-out that they didn’t care.

  I quietly slipped away and locked the door.

  * * *

  Hair of the Dog, a popular bar and café, was closing by the time I arrived. It stayed open later than any other bar in town. Dave was waiting by the road along with two police four-wheelers.

  I stopped the golf cart, and he hopped in. “Let’s go.”

  I headed up the mountain again. The four-wheelers followed us.

  “What have you got on Jim?” I asked.

  Dave was silent. For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer my question.

  “There was a piece of paper on Howard’s leg—”

  “I saw it! On his thigh.”

  “Did you handle it?”

  “No.”

  “It had Jim’s name written on it. We have a handwriting expert checking it out, but that will take a while. Preliminary indications are that Howard wrote it.”

  I hadn’t expected that and didn’t know quite what to make of it. “So Howard wrote Jim’s name on a slip of paper. That’s not exactly a smoking gun. He arrived with Jim.”

  “True. I hoped Jim might be able to tell me what that slip of paper was about.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “He seemed clueless. If he knew anything about it, he did a good job of pretending that he didn’t.”

  “You’re not thinking that Howard scribbled the name of his killer as he lay dying?”

  “Stranger things have happened. It’s something I have to consider.”

  I didn’t like that at all. It was possible, I supposed. “Was the paper torn? It looked like a scrap to me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you find that significant?”

  “In what way?” asked Dave.

  “I’m not sure. When do you write something on a piece of paper you’ve torn? When you don’t have anything to write on. When someone needs the other portion of the paper.”

  “Hmm.” Dave sounded unimpressed. “How did you find the dogs?”

  “It’s so quiet out here at night. I thought Stella was listening to the owls hoot. Suddenly, she jumped off the golf cart, and then I could hear Dolly. It was faint, so faint, I guess because the cabin is set so far back off the road. Even though I’ve been listening for dogs, I’m not sure I’d have thought anything of it. But Stella was determined. She ev
en tore a window screen with her paw. And they came running out.”

  “Do you know whose cabin it was?”

  “Not a clue. I didn’t even know it was there.”

  “What were you doing up there this time of night anyway?” he asked.

  “Visiting a friend.”

  “Does your friend have a name?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Why are you being evasive?”

  “I just went to visit someone, Dave. It was no big deal. Okay, here’s the drive that leads to the house.”

  “Pull over.”

  I steered the golf cart to the side of the road.

  Dave looked at me. “I want you to go home. There’s nothing you can do here. These guys might be armed, and I don’t want you anywhere nearby. Not even here on the road, because someone could come tearing out or drive in. They could be on foot or in a vehicle. I honestly don’t know what to expect, and I don’t want to worry about you. Go home.”

  He hopped off the golf cart. “Thanks for showing us where it is. Now get going.”

  I was certain he thought I’d stick around, but the truth was that I didn’t want to be there. I understood that I would be in the way and could even make their job harder. “Hey, Dave.”

  He turned to look at me.

  “Stay safe.”

  He smiled, and I took off down the mountain, glad that I wasn’t armed and walking into a house of dognappers.

  I expected a chaotic greeting when I returned, but the dogs were so pooped, they barely stirred. Trixie yawned and followed me into the bedroom, where Twinkletoes was already curled up on the bed.

  * * *

  In the morning, after a shower, I stood in my walk-in closet and told myself that Holmes’s return to town had nothing to do with the fact that I was eyeing a green-and-white-striped sundress instead of my usual jeans or skort. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into it, zipped it up, and slid my feet into white sandals. After all, I would be bringing Dolly and Tavish home this morning. I should be dressed appropriately.

  I walked down the grand staircase with a pack of five dogs and one cat leading the way. Gingersnap showed the canine guests out to the doggy potty and back to the dining room, where they received a round of applause from Oma, Shelley, Zelda, and Mr. Huckle.

  Shelley brought out a tray of dog breakfasts. It looked like barley, lentils, carrots, and cubed chicken breast topped with a fried egg.

  “I hope you don’t mind that we fed them first,” Shelley said to me.

  “I’m glad you did. They’ve been so good. I could use a mug of hot tea, please. And their fried eggs look delicious.” I plopped down at the table where Oma and Zelda sat.

  “You had quite a night.” Oma smiled at me. “I can’t believe that you found Dolly and Tavish!”

  “Stella gets all the credit. You know, I think she recognized Dolly’s bark. She was determined to get her out of there.”

  “She probably did recognize Dolly,” said Zelda. “They were neighbors. I’m sure they knew each other. Stella must have heard Dolly bark every day.”

  “In fact,” I said, “I think Dave should take another look at the torn screen in Diane’s house. It seemed sort of odd, and I think the assumption was that a person went through it, but it was child-sized. A guy like Jim, for instance, couldn’t have entered that way. After Stella’s performance last night, I suspect she has put her paw through a screen before. I wonder if she was locked inside the house and tore the screen to get out and follow Diane.”

  “She was dedicated to Diane. Poor baby,” said Oma. “Dave called me early this morning. He wants to go with you when you take Dolly and Tavish home.”

  “I wanted to take them home last night. Did Dave say who they found in the house?”

  “It was empty.”

  “You’re kidding! I thought there was a TV on. Maybe the dognappers left when they saw that the dogs were gone?”

  “He said it looks like a rental house. It was ready for use with the towels folded and the beds made. No one was there.”

  Shelley delivered my tea with a platter of fried eggs, home fries, bacon, toast, and a bowl of fresh fruit salad. “You deserve it. We’re all so happy the pups have been found.”

  “I can’t eat all this,” I protested.

  Zelda reached over and plucked a home fry off my plate. “I’ll help you.”

  I sipped my tea. “Oma, that doesn’t make any sense. If you were a dognapper, wouldn’t you stay with the dogs? Why would you keep them in an unoccupied cabin?”

  “To hide them,” said Zelda. “The dognappers are probably staying in town where people would have heard the dogs barking.”

  “So they randomly found a cabin way back in the woods and kept them there while . . . what?” I asked. “While they looked for more dogs to steal?”

  “Why are you surprised, Holly?” asked Oma.

  “I guess I thought dognappers would put them in cages, or drug them so they wouldn’t bark. Or at least stay with them.”

  “Perhaps Dave will have a fresh perspective. He must be exhausted,” said Oma. “I can’t believe how much happened while I slept. I’m so relieved. Finally, everyone is back home where they belong.” Oma winked at me as she stood up. She gave me a hug. “Now, if you can solve the murders, Wagtail will be our lovely, peaceful little town again.”

  “Me?” I watched her walk away.

  “What was that about?” asked Zelda.

  I didn’t want to say anything about Holmes being back, so I changed the subject in a hurry. “You should have seen Pippin last night when we came home. He was so happy to find Jim asleep in the Dogwood Room.”

  Zelda leaned closer, but I wasn’t sure if it was to speak in a low voice or to help herself to more home fries. “Do you think Jim murdered them?”

  I shrugged. “He seems like a nice guy. Dave must have had some reason to want to question him at police headquarters. But he let him go. I guess that’s good news.”

  After breakfast, I phoned Dave about returning Dolly and Tavish to their homes. He agreed to meet me at Clara’s house.

  Gingersnap stayed at the inn, but Stella and Trixie came along with me. It was probably silly of me, but I thought Stella should know where they went since she was the one who knew they were in the wrong place and rescued them.

  Twenty-eight

  I drove to Clara’s cottage and parked in front of it.

  Tavish knew he was home. He whined and hopped off the golf cart, ran to the gate, and pawed at it, eager to see Clara.

  When I opened the gate for him, he zoomed to the front door and barked.

  A bleary-eyed Clara, dressed in a blue flannel bathrobe, opened the door. “Tavish!”

  There was no mistaking the joy in both their hearts at the reunion. Tears streamed down Clara’s face. She sat down on her door stoop and cuddled Tavish. “I was afraid I would never see you again!”

  The other dogs had followed Tavish and were investigating every inch of his yard.

  Dave arrived on the run. He panted and rested at the gate for a moment, watching Clara and Tavish. He walked in slowly and whispered to me, “We’ll talk. Don’t tell Clara anything.”

  “Where did you find him?” Clara asked.

  Oh swell. Why did I have to keep secrets? I dodged her question. “Stella found him.”

  “Stella? Come here, darlin’.” Clara held her hand out to Stella, who readily went to her. “I’m going to buy you the biggest steak I can find!”

  “You’re certain this is Tavish?” asked Dave.

  I gaped at him. Did he think I was cruising around picking up dogs at random?

  “I just want to be sure,” he muttered. “I don’t need a phone call from someone missing a dog that looks like Tavish.”

  “He ran to his gate,” I said. “He knew perfectly w
ell that this is his home.”

  “There’s no question in my mind, Officer Dave.” Clara’s smile said it all.

  I called the dogs and made sure the gate was securely closed behind us.

  “Want a ride over to the Hoovers’ place?” I asked.

  “There’s not much room.”

  “There is if Trixie or Dolly sits in your lap.”

  He grumbled, but we all managed to squeeze onto the bench seats.

  “Oma says no one was in the cabin.”

  “It’s a rental and it was ready to go. The TV was on, and someone had left the windows open, probably so the dogs would get some air. The fridge was empty. There was no luggage or food, not even dog food. I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Had they broken in?”

  “Not that we could see.”

  “Are you checking for fingerprints?” I asked.

  He gave me an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? I know how to do my job. But it will take a while to get results.”

  I pulled up in front of the Hoovers’ house and parked.

  Little Dolly announced her arrival at the top of her lungs, barking all the way from the street to her house. The front door of the brick rambler opened. Augie stepped outside and bent over to scoop up Dolly.

  Glenda appeared right behind him. He turned and handed Dolly to her. Glenda’s mouth dropped open. She clutched Dolly close to her and sank to the ground. “My baby! Where were you, sweetie pie?”

  While they were fussing over her, I watched as Stella walked slowly toward Diane’s house. She stood outside and looked at her home. If ever a dog wore a melancholy expression, it was Stella.

  I could hear the other boxers barking inside. Dolly’s exuberant yipping had probably set them off.

  “I’d better go assure Donna that everything is okay,” I said to Dave.

  Stella walked to the front door with me. I rang the bell and shouted, “Donna, it’s Holly. I brought Dolly home.”

  Donna opened the door. Mussed hair suggested she had been asleep. “What’s going on?”