by Krista Davis
Rae Rae looked at her plate, but I didn’t think she was seeing it. She shook her head. “Diane was right. She might not have realized anything was awry. Howard was notoriously late and erratic in the way he conducted his life. If he hadn’t been such a good actor, people might not have tolerated that kind of behavior.” She gazed at Jim. “I remember when the cops were looking for Lucy. I never knew her, but I saw her picture in the newspaper when she disappeared. I’m so sorry.”
Jim nodded. “I wondered if you knew her. He never sold the house where he lived then. Even when he was rich and famous. He moved out, but he rented it. I think he was afraid someone would dig if he sold it. Now that he’s dead, I think I’ll make a stink and see if we can get into his yard before the house is in someone else’s hands.”
I looked from Jim to Rae Rae. They were both somber. Their lives had been impacted by Howard. Both of them had motives to murder him. Could one of them have poisoned Howard? Or Diane? What if Jim was sugarcoating his encounters with the two of them? What if his visit with Diane hadn’t gone exactly as he was telling us?
If Howard actually murdered Lucy all those years ago, he might have murdered Jim too, just to keep him quiet about it. But it worked out in reverse. Someone had killed Howard. And Jim had the murder weapon of fentanyl in his bag . . .
I picked at my lunch. Trixie, not as distressed over the murders, had finished her lunch and was sitting on the deck next to me, gazing at me hopefully. I relented and sneaked a slice of chicken breast to her.
Rae Rae very kindly picked up the tab for everyone. With a wink, she said, “Lunch is on my brother.” When we were leaving, one of the bartenders nabbed my elbow. I hung back as the others walked out the door.
When it swung shut, he said, “Tell Dave that redheaded guy, the one who was a child star, was in here Friday night. He was having a humdinger of an argument with Howard. He kept walking away from him, but the redheaded guy followed him and started it up again every time.”
Finch? Up to now, Finch hadn’t really been among my suspects. “Any idea what it was about?”
He heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t swear to it, but it sounded to me like it was about a woman.”
“Thanks. I’ll let Dave know.”
“Rumor is that Howard killed Diane and himself. But as a bartender, and that means a pseudo-shrink, it wasn’t Howard. The man expects to be waited on by everyone. He was always bossing people around. ‘Get me another drink, get me some pretzels, get me something to eat.’ If Howard killed Diane, I bet he paid someone to do it for him. Now that Howard’s dead, I thought I’d better pass along the info on the redheaded guy before he leaves town and gets away with it.”
I thanked him again and left the restaurant thinking about how many people probably do get away with murder, like Howard did. Everyone seemed to think he expected other people to do everything for him. But could he have developed a nasty habit of drugging women who then died of an overdose? Did he see that as a hands-off way of ridding himself of someone?
I had barely taken two steps with Pippin’s crew when Sugar and her momma, Idella, marched toward us like they were out to kill.
“Mary Lee Seidel!” cried Idella. “You stop right there. I want to have a word with you.”
“I’ll back you up,” said Jim. “What did you do to them?”
Idella said, “Laugh, Sugar. We want to look as though we like her.”
The two of them put on a show smiling and chuckling. They were a pair of nuts!
Idella gazed at Pippin and his entourage. In a highly annoyed tone, she muttered, “Would you mind? This is a private matter between Mary Lee and my daughter.”
I turned to Marlee and her friends. “It’s okay. Go on back to the inn.” Facing Sugar and Idella, I asked, “What can I do for you?”
Idella leveled a hateful gaze at me. “Mary Lee! You come here right this minute.”
Marlee, known locally as Mary Lee, whipped off her wig. Shiny brunette hair tumbled around her head. I could see her hand shaking, but she stood up to Idella.
“Mom, I told you she was Mary Lee,” hissed Sugar.
Marlee stared at Sugar. “I’m tired of hiding.”
Idella’s eyes blazed. “How dare you come back here and make a ruckus? I thought we were through with you.”
Marlee spoke calmly. “Get over yourself, Idella. You have no business telling me what I can do or where I can go. In fact, if you weren’t standing here making a fuss in front of everyone, they wouldn’t know a thing was wrong.” She shifted her gaze to Sugar. “I’m sorry about the way things turned out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m here on a job.”
Marlee joined Pippin’s group, and they walked away, high-fiving her.
I was proud of Marlee. She hadn’t lost her temper, and she had made perfect sense.
Idella fumed and turned her ire on me. In a bitter and angry tone, she said, “You better keep your mouth shut about Sugar and Stan. And I don’t want to see you digging through my trash, you hear?”
Now that was interesting. Considering that I hadn’t dug in anyone’s trash and that the only trash I had been near belonged to Glenda Hoover, it was clear to me that Glenda had immediately phoned Idella. I could certainly understand why they didn’t want Stan’s and Sugar’s criminal behavior to become public knowledge in Wagtail. But it was intriguing to me that Glenda and Idella were worried. Maybe I was on to something. Could Diane have caught Stan and Sugar stealing a package? They had only been on the periphery of my radar, but Idella’s words had moved them up.
“You’re just doing this to make me look bad to Holmes,” sniffled Sugar. “Have you heard from him?”
Oy. I was doing way too much lying for my comfort. This time I told the truth. “Not today.”
I had nothing more to say to them. Without the courtesy of a good-bye, I turned on my heel and walked away. I could hear Idella say, “Well I never! She’s going to ruin everything for you, Sugar.”
The funny thing was that I had no desire to ruin anything for Sugar. I didn’t plan to say a word about her porch-pirating days unless packages went missing in Wagtail. The truth was that I felt sorry for Sugar. She had made a terrible mistake, and it was just a matter of time before someone in Wagtail learned about it and blabbed it all over town. It had to be awful living with that fear hanging over her head.
I put them out of my mind and followed Trixie, whose nose was to the ground. We were at the far end of Wagtail, where the Wagtail Springs Hotel was located. When Trixie walked up the steps to the entrance, I followed her and opened the door.
Jimmy Bocuse was working at the front desk. A friendly guy in his twenties, we sometimes shared stories about quirky guests. “Hey, Holly!” He came around the desk into the lobby and handed Trixie a little treat. “That was a great article about you.”
Trixie wagged her tail.
“So how is it with Pippin in residence?” he asked. “Are people breaking in to see him?”
“Not yet. He’s been pretty accessible to the public.”
Jimmy grinned. “He’s keeping us busy. One fellow checked out this morning, and we sold his room within the hour.”
“We’re full up, too.”
“We were sorry to see Wade go. He was a very generous tipper.”
“Wade? Not Wade Holt?” I asked, feeling a little queasy.
“Yeah! Do you know him? Great guy!”
Great guy? How could that be? I treaded cautiously. “I’ve met him.”
“I’ve worked at the hotel since it reopened, but he was the first person who ever paid for his room in cash.”
I thought about it for a moment. I couldn’t recall anyone paying cash for their stay at the inn. But if he was an unemployed con man, maybe he couldn’t get a credit card. Cash might be his only option. I hoped he wasn’t pulling cons around town. “He seemed to have a lot of cash?”<
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“Why are you surprised? He writes Internet games about superheroes. I’m telling you, he was really cool.”
Wade was a good liar. I hadn’t expected that from the man I met in the woods. “But he checked out?”
“We almost cried when he left!”
I honestly felt a weight lift off me. I reached for Trixie and stroked her. That was one worry gone. I hoped he would stay away for good. “Did he say where he was going?”
“Las Vegas, I think.”
I breathed a sigh of relief even though I realized it was probably just another lie. As long as he wasn’t in Wagtail, I would be thrilled.
“I heard that Pippin’s owner, Jim, is the one who murdered Howard Hirschtritt. I don’t know if I’d like having a suspected murderer staying here.”
“Really? Who told you that?”
“Wade. But everyone is talking about it. I wonder what would happen to Pippin if Jim went to the slammer for murder?”
Wade? I wanted to think there was something sinister about Wade discussing the murders. But the truth was that everyone in town had probably heard about them, even the visitors. And if rumors were circulating that Pippin’s owner had committed the murders, then that was even more interesting for the visitors.
Trixie received one more tiny treat from Jimmy before we departed. I left feeling much less tense. There were still plenty of problems in Wagtail, but the big one that had been hanging over my head had left. I was practically giddy when we walked back to the inn through the green.
Marlee and Rae Rae sat on the porch drinking iced tea. Marlee had ditched the wig and glasses. Gingersnap and Stella lounged at their feet, and Twinkletoes sat on the porch railing. It was a charming scene.
“Did everything go okay with that lady?” asked Rae Rae. “She seemed very angry.”
“They’re afraid I know about the porch pirating.” I flipped my hand through the air casually. “No big deal. You two look like you’re enjoying the afternoon.”
“It’s so peaceful,” said Rae Rae. “And guess what. Stella knows some words!”
Marlee snickered. “They all know a few commands.”
“That’s not what I mean. She knows perfectly well what”—Rae Rae spelled out the words—“i-c-e c-r-e-a-m means. She gets all excited if you say it.”
“That’s so cute,” said Marlee. “Maybe that’s her favorite treat.”
“It probably is,” I said. “Dogs understand around five hundred words. I bet she’s had enough i-c-e c-r-e-a-m to know it’s delicious!”
Trixie and I went inside and headed to the office. It was so quiet in the inn that I wondered where everyone had gone.
Zelda latched on to me when I walked by her. “It’s so boring around here today.”
“Zelda, this is a good thing,” said Oma. “We have a full house, and all our guests are happy and content.”
I sat down opposite Oma. “I’m feeling very happy right now, too. Apparently, the man who claimed Trixie belonged to him checked out of the Wagtail Springs Hotel.” Trixie jumped up into my lap and kissed my nose. “We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Oma frowned at me. “There are still the two deaths.”
Zelda chirped up, “I thought they were solved and the cases were closed.”
Oma turned as red as a beet. “Um, yes. They are still very troubling.”
Oy! I needed to change the subject and fast. “Hey, Zelda, did you mention something about Stan and Sugar’s porch pirating to anyone?”
“Of course not. Marlee asked us to keep it quiet. Why? Is someone on to them?”
I pulled the label out of my pocket. “I found this sticking to the Hoovers’ garbage bag.”
“Holly!” Oma said my name in a scolding way, but she leaned forward. “What does it say?”
“Nothing important. It’s a shipping label that must have been on a package destined for Diane’s house. It was stuck on the outside of a garbage bag, kind of hanging there flapping in the breeze.”
“Why would it be on the Hoovers’ trash?” mused Zelda.
“Precisely. Idella and Sugar tracked me down, and Idella had a little hissy fit and threatened me if I said anything about ‘what I knew.’ It was very strange.”
“She admitted what Sugar did?” asked Oma.
“Idella never mentioned it. She was never specific.”
“Ohhhh,” Oma moaned. “I do not like this. Why would she threaten you? Even if you did snatch something off the Hoovers’ trash.”
“It was out on the street. It’s not like I broke into their garage.”
“Holly! It’s still not right. But perhaps it is good that we know this. Zelda,” said Oma, “we must be very subtle, ja?”
“You can count on me.”
She had barely finished speaking when we heard angry voices.
Thirty-three
Jim burst into the office. “Have you seen Pippin?”
He was so agitated that he woke Gingersnap and Stella.
Jim gazed around the office and ran to the sliding glass door. He looked out at the lake. “One minute he was with me and the next he was gone. A crowd of people gathered around us, and he somehow disappeared. Pippin!” he shouted. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve looked everywhere.”
I stood up. “Oma, you stay here and coordinate. Call Dave and let him know. Zelda, find little Jacob Minifree. He has a Pippin obsession.” I pulled out my phone and sent a lost dog alert to the Wagtail community.
“Let’s walk over to Hot Hog. He and Trixie had a good time there. Maybe he went back. I’m sure he’s fine, Jim. He’s just kicking up his heels while he’s on vacation.” I hoped I sounded assuring, because I didn’t feel confident at all. We still hadn’t found the dognapper. The deaths had overshadowed the problem of the missing dogs, especially once they were found. I took Trixie with us so she wouldn’t disappear.
Jim was distraught. I assured him that Trixie would probably notice if Pippin were roaming the green. But he was inconsolable.
Our hopes were dashed when Pippin wasn’t at Hot Hog. They promised to keep him at the restaurant if he showed up. From there, we walked over to the house Howard had rented. Jim and I called Pippin’s name over and over, but there was simply no sign of him. The house lay silent, with crime scene tape still draped across the doors.
The day flew by as word spread and helpful people called in sightings. A fisherman was sure he’d seen a guy washing Pippin in the lake. Jim and Finch spent a couple of hours cruising the lake with Stan, while I stayed at the inn to take calls. Two hikers thought they’d seen Pippin at the top of the mountain chasing squirrels. And three people reported him playing with other dogs in the dog park on the green.
None of the leads panned out.
Jim was beside himself. “I should have used the GPS collar you offered. After he and Trixie went out to dinner, I should have realized the importance of those collars.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” I said. “Pippin usually sticks close to you.”
“I swear he was there one minute and gone the next. I don’t understand. How could I have let this happen?”
“Don’t give up yet. I’ll take the dogs and drive up to the cabin where we found Tavish and Dolly. It’s a long shot, but maybe it’s worth a try.”
“I’d go with you,” said Jim, “but I’m afraid there might be a sighting of Pippin.”
I nodded. “It’s better if you stay here and pursue any leads.” I called Gingersnap, Stella, and Trixie, grabbed a golf cart key, and drove to Pierce Real Estate. Nancy Friedman was at the desk.
“Has the Popolov house been rented?” I asked.
She checked her computer. “No. What’s going on?”
I explained the situation.
Nancy handed me the keys. “Normally, I’d go with you, but Al’s back went o
ut on him, so I have to cover the desk.”
“No problem. I’ll have them back to you soon.”
I hopped in the golf cart, and the three dogs joined me. We drove up the mountain. I watched Stella for a reaction. The scents probably reminded her of the night she found her friend Dolly. I turned off the main road, drove up the long driveway, and parked in front of the house. If Pippin was there, he wasn’t barking. Before I stepped out, I watched the dogs to see their reactions. Unfortunately, Stella didn’t bark, and Trixie didn’t jump out to track anything.
Feeling discouraged, I stepped out and unlocked the front door of the house. The kitchen, dining area, and living room were all one uninterrupted room, anchored by a river rock fireplace at the end. Large beams held up a wood ceiling, and green French doors overlooked woods in the back.
The dogs ran around sniffing the floors, undoubtedly smelling Dolly and Tavish. I wished they could tell me if Pippin had been there.
I wandered into the kitchen. It looked like a rental. Neat and orderly, but sparsely equipped except for an air fryer. Maybe the Popolovs were big fans of fried foods.
A door led to a single bedroom with a bath. It was a very small place but cozy and warm. I could imagine snuggling up by the fireplace on cold nights. The bedroom was ready for the next guests. Towels were stacked on the bed and tied with a ribbon to show they had been laundered. I checked the hardwood floor. There was no sign of dog fur.
“Well, guys,” I said to the dogs, “I’m sorry I dragged you out here.” I stood near the fireplace and turned around, taking in everything. The police had probably checked it out thoroughly. But I felt like this particular cabin had to be key. There were plenty of cabins out in the woods around Wagtail. But the dognapper chose this one. The roster of suspects would include everyone who worked at Pierce Real Estate and all the people who had ever rented the place. It didn’t end there, but it was a good start.