The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2)

by Krista Davis

  The cool morning air brought on shivers, prompting me to dig through my suitcase again, where I found a lavender-ish fleece vest that coordinated with my top.

  “You guys ready for breakfast?” I asked, returning to the kitchen. I spooned some chicken bits with sauce into Twinkletoes’s bowl. In the small dining room, I dropped to my knees and opened the cat door in case she wanted to return later for a snack or a quiet nap. Trixie was still watching TV. I discovered an off button on the TV set and pressed it, thinking Trixie and Twinkletoes were far smarter than me because they knew where the remote was.

  I nabbed Trixie’s leash in case I needed to coax her away from the meals of other dogs, and the three of us were out the door. Trixie and Twinkletoes sprang down the grand staircase far faster than I could go.

  By the time I reached the dining area, Twinkletoes was watching leaves blowing outside the window. The muscles in her shoulders jerked as if she meant to leap after them.

  Trixie had her front paws on Oma’s lap.

  I said good morning to Oma and latched Trixie’s leash on her collar. “We’d better make a potty stop first.”

  We passed the registration desk on our way out. Zelda was arriving for her shift. She looked like a movie star with a hangover. Huge dark sunglasses shielded her eyes. She was massaging her temples.

  When Casey and I chimed, “Good morning,” Zelda placed a finger over her lips. “Shh. Not so loud, please.”

  “Rough night?” I asked.

  “The night was fine, but morning has been pretty grim so far.” She yawned. “I’m getting too old to stay out half the night and go to work the next day.”

  Trixie and I walked outside. We were back in a flash.

  Zelda held a bottle of aspirin in her hand.

  “I’ll be having breakfast if you need help.”

  She nodded.

  Trixie ran ahead of me to the dining hall.

  When I sat down at Oma’s table, I leaned toward her and whispered, “Has Dave called you, by any chance?”

  Oma rested her hand on top of mine. “I’m sorry, liebchen. Dave said they tried very hard to save her but it was too late. He called me early this morning because he had to notify the interim mayor.”

  “Noooo. Oh no.” I slumped in my chair. “How awful. I didn’t have much hope, but still . . .”

  “It is very sad. She was only twenty-nine. Now tell me, please—what were you doing out there in the middle of the night?”

  I explained about Birdie’s call. “What I don’t understand is how Trixie and Twinkletoes managed to leave the inn. The cat door was open in my apartment, but Casey would never have allowed them to leave through the registration doors.

  “Holly, did you lock the kitchen door last night?”

  I thought back. “I’m pretty sure I locked it when Dave was here.”

  Oma pulled her hand-knitted sweater closed as though she felt a chill. “It wasn’t locked this morning.”

  “Maybe a guest went out that way?” But even as I offered that explanation, I knew it didn’t make sense. Why would someone go into the private part of the inn and leave through the back door?

  “The front door wasn’t locked, either. I fear you are correct. I have made a mistake by moving the registration desk to the side entrance, thus leaving the front door unobserved.”

  Shelley bustled over to our table, tucking a strand of light brown hair firmly into her bun. “I’m so glad you’re back, Holly. Chocolate chip pumpkin pancakes with maple syrup and maple glazed bacon for breakfast this morning? We have a doggie version, too—chocolate-free, of course.”

  Oh, the guilt! I had allowed myself to gobble all the rich food on my last visit, but now that I was here for good I really shouldn’t. I spied the remnants of maple syrup on Oma’s plate, and the scent of bacon from another table wafted by. Trixie lifted her nose, no doubt catching the aroma. Maybe just this once we could indulge . . . “Sounds wonderful. Trixie and I will both have the pancakes. Thanks!”

  I gazed at Trixie. “We’re going to have to do a lot of walking to work off those calories.” She didn’t seem to be at all concerned about that.

  “Did you take her to training?”

  “Not yet. She saw the vet and was spayed, but otherwise it was all I could do to rent my house, pack it up, and move. Besides, there are probably more trainers here in Wagtail. I’ll make arrangements as soon as I get organized.”

  A guest walked out to the terrace, and Twinkletoes jumped back in alarm when a gust from the door shook a spray of decorative bats that were flying across the huge window. She stalked them carefully from below, periodically jumping up to try to reach one.

  “By the way, nice job last night with the ghost orb and the lights in registration. You had the ghost hunters going.”

  Oma raised her eyebrows. “Casey told me about that. He was quite impressed. But you are giving me credit for something I did not do.”

  I tilted my head at her. “Really? Why don’t I believe you?”

  “I admit that it would have been great fun to greet the ghost hunters with such an event, but I had nothing to do with it. I was at the meeting about the mayor.”

  “Then it must have been Mr. Luciano.”

  “He’s been here a week already, but quite busy. I don’t imagine he would bother to make up such a thing.”

  I doctored my second cup of steaming tea. “So what’s with Mr. Huckle?”

  “He is delightful, yes? He worked for the Wiggins family for many, many years, but Peaches, the last wife, kicked him out. I could not bear to see him suffering without a job. He is not very fast or strong anymore, but guests have raved about how considerate he is. He acts as though he is everyone’s personal valet—shining shoes, walking dogs, delivering flowers and packages to rooms. He’s an excellent dog and cat sitter, I’m told.” Her head wobbled from side to side a bit. “And I must say that I love the indulgence of coffee waiting for me when I rise in the morning. I miss him on his days off.”

  Down to business. I wasn’t quite sure what my responsibilities would be at the inn. Oma wanted more time to enjoy life, and running the inn was a 24/7 job. “What’s on tap for today? Should we make a list of the things you expect me to do?”

  “Yes, this is a very good idea. Perhaps we can work on a list later on? It should be fairly quiet. We have a full house, but almost all of them are ghost hunters.” She lowered her voice. “The lady eating alone is Lillian Elsner, the widow of the famous Congressman. She arrived a few days ago. Lillian is one of the two guests not affiliated with our ghost hunters. Her little Yorkie is GloryB.”

  Aha. The woman who had paced the hallways last night.

  Lillian was what my mother would have called a femme fatale. I put her near fifty even though she appeared younger. I had met a lot of well-heeled women like her in my days as a fund-raiser. Blonde tresses curled just below her shoulders in a breezy, just-rolled-out-of-bed style that had been carefully cut by a clever hairdresser. The blonde probably hid the beginnings of gray, but it didn’t hide gentle laugh wrinkles around her eyes. The sleeves of her oversized white shirt were rolled up, exposing tanned arms that sported gold bangles. A sweet Yorkshire terrier sat in the chair next to her, behaving better than some of the children I’d seen in restaurants. A rhinestone-encrusted collar circled the little dog’s neck. At least I hoped they were rhinestones. Large bejeweled rings enhanced Lillian’s fingers.

  Except for dark mascara and eyeliner, her makeup seemed nonexistent. A clear gloss shimmered on her lips.

  Altogether, a look calculated to appear casual and devil-may-care but, in reality, carefully planned.

  I whispered to Oma. “You told Dave we don’t have any wealthy guests right now.”

  Oma blinked at me. “So I did. I forgot all about Lillian’s jewelry. Let’s get that bolt on the door. Maybe you can take over the mo
rning walk-through to make sure all is in order? And when you have finished that, could you go to the hardware store, Shutter Dogs? Have them make a set of master keys for you, and pick up a deadbolt lock for the back door.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  After breakfast, armed with an old-fashioned clipboard, I toured the public hallways and rooms of the inn, starting from the far end of the cat wing. I paused in the library to be sure it was tidy and had been cleaned during the night, eyed the floor in the dining area, and peeked out on the terrace. The day had warmed a bit and diners had flocked to the outdoor tables for breakfast in the sunshine, overlooking the lake.

  Down by the water, Lillian strolled with GloryB, who raced happily along the shoreline. Watching her, Lillian massaged her hip as though it was sore.

  Back inside, I stopped in the old lobby, where the foyer must have been when the inn was a private residence many decades ago. I examined the grand staircase, which had clearly been vacuumed, and chuckled at the fabulous life-sized mummies and scaredy-cats. Tall candelabra held black candles, with faux flames that flickered even in daylight. I did a 180-degree turn and stepped out on the front porch.

  It ran across the front of the original building. Every single rocking chair was occupied. Dogs and cats lounged happily while their people lingered over mugs of hot tea and coffee. Before them, the pedestrian zone was coming to life.

  Gingersnap already occupied her favorite spot on the porch. I reached down to stroke her soft red head.

  Her tail swished across the floor.

  I returned indoors to the sitting room, also known as the Dogwood Room, because the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Dogwood Lake. I ran a finger across the fireplace mantel. Clean as a whistle under the faux spiderwebs. The night housekeeper was doing a great job.

  The lights on two black five-armed candelabra flickered. In between them, the large painting of Dogwood Lake had been replaced by a mirror with a chipped black frame that revealed flecks of platinum underneath. The mirror itself was crackled with the patina of age, the silver missing in spots, leaving a haunting dark gray underneath.

  Oma had embraced the season with gusto. It was fun, even if the mirror was a bit on the creepy side.

  Twinkletoes lay upside down in a sunbeam.

  I paused and joined her at the window, thinking of Mallory. How could she have drowned in so little water? Why hadn’t she pulled herself out? I knew nothing about her, yet she haunted me as I walked through the inn. Her life had come to such an abrupt end. She was planning to be married, for heaven’s sake! Her family must be devastated. Mark must be crushed. Especially after being so miffed with her last night. If we knew we would never have another chance, we’d all probably be a lot nicer to one another, especially our loved ones. I forced myself to focus on my job and move on.

  Trixie accompanied me through the inn and around the grounds off-leash. She paused to greet GloryB. They sniffed each other politely.

  Meanwhile, I introduced myself to Lillian.

  She wore a broad-brimmed straw hat and held her hand out to me. “I heard you were coming. Your grandmother is so pleased that you moved to Wagtail. I hear you lived in the Washington, D.C., area like me.”

  “Arlington.”

  “I know you won’t miss the traffic. I love it out here with the birds and the chipmunks. It’s so peaceful. And GloryB is having the time of her life.”

  “How did she get such a cute name?”

  “My husband and her breeder came up with it. Her sister is a fancy show dog. They intended to breed GloryB, but my husband talked them into letting us buy her.”

  GloryB scampered back to us, sat down, and stared at Lillian, who laughed.

  “She’s such a bossy little girl. I believe she’s ready to move on. Excuse me.” Lillian walked on, with GloryB running ahead.

  Trixie roamed but never lost sight of me—a relief after last night’s chase. I called her as a test. She perked her ears and ran to me, planting her bottom on the ground before I could ask her to sit. I rewarded her with a crunchy three-calorie blueberry treat.

  We returned through the reception area.

  Zelda had shed the dark glasses. She crooked her finger at me and shuttled me over to the tiny inn gift shop. “Officer Dave is here,” she whispered. “They’re going to think I killed Mallory!”

  Chill bumps rose on my arms. Oh no. Not Zelda! “What happened?”

  “I’m in so much trouble. I don’t remember a lot about last night, but I’m pretty sure I said some choice threatening things to Mallory.” She must have seen the horror in my eyes because she hastened to add, “Well, she was being a real pest. Felix invited me to go to Hair of the Dog with the Apparition Apprehenders. We were having a great time”—a wisp of a smile crossed her mouth—“I think Felix really likes me, and then a couple hours later, Mallory waltzed in and acted like she owned Felix. I’d had a couple of drinks by then, and my tongue might have been a little bit loosened up.”

  I relaxed. “Oh, Zelda. That was stupid.”

  “Hey, I didn’t know someone was going to kill her! The cops must suspect us. Why else would Dave be here to see Felix?” Her eyes darted wildly about the room.

  “You think Felix is a suspect?”

  “He walked us home,” she said glumly.

  “Us?”

  “Felix and Mallory dropped me off at my house first, and then Felix walked her over to Mark’s place.”

  “Zelda.” I wrapped a reassuring arm around her. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Even if someone did kill Mallory, you have an alibi. Felix!” Of course, he had a serious problem, but I didn’t mention that. “It’s not as though you were the last person to be with her.”

  Her top lip slid inward, and she chewed on it. “Yeah, you would think so, wouldn’t you? Except I was snockered and didn’t trust her, so I might have just happened to sneak out and follow them.”

  “Zelda!”

  “Well, it seemed logical at the time. If they were, you know, sleeping together, I didn’t want to be chasing him.”

  “Did he stay at Mark’s?”

  “No. He kissed her on the cheek and left.” She turned huge eyes toward me. “But I didn’t kill her.” Her hand shook when she briefly covered her mouth.

  “Of course you didn’t. Where did you go?”

  “Home.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I can’t prove it.”

  “Maybe you won’t need to.” I hugged her and tried to be upbeat, but I was worried for her.

  Zelda went back to work.

  I collected my purse and a set of master keys, snapped a leash on Trixie’s collar as a precaution, and walked along the pedestrian zone. I stopped by the front porch and asked Gingersnap if she wanted to come with us. She was far too busy kissing two little girls who were giggling and hugging her.

  The merchants had outdone themselves with Howloween decorations. In addition to pumpkins and cornstalks, they had added cute Halloween signs like Watch Out for Flying Bats and Black Cat Society Meeting Here. Store windows featured witches, ghosts, and ghastly goblins. Animatronic skeletons at Pawsitively Decadent stopped their dance and seemed to peer at us! Trixie yelped in alarm and backed away.

  I located Shutter Dogs just around a corner on a side street. The hardware store must have been a home once. It was painted a fresh gray with white trim. The merchandise had overflowed to the sidewalk, including colorful wagons that looked like toys but were clearly useful around Wagtail. The front door was set back between two glass showcase windows. A ghost holding a pitchfork ogled customers on one side, while a zombie with a chainsaw glared out of the other.

  I found someone who could duplicate the keys and shopped around while he replicated them. Upstairs I discovered an amazing assortment of cat, dog, and horse hooks and drawer pulls that forced me to dawdle and admire. I made note of the lamps t
hat featured all sorts of creatures, like ceramic bunnies and bronze horses, thinking I would have to stop by again when I had actually unpacked and found that I needed a lamp.

  To my complete surprise, I discovered a rack labeled Shutter Dogs mounted on a wall. I had no idea that was the name of the metal scrolls that held shutters open. Trixie pulled me along to the rear of the store, where they stocked a large assortment of food and treats for cats and dogs. “Your nose always finds the food, doesn’t it?”

  Not that I faulted her for that. I was a little bit too fond of food myself, and I had never starved like she had.

  Trixie gently pawed at a package of bat-shaped cookies made in Wagtail. I acquiesced and picked up one of the cellophane bags. “But you can’t eat one until we pay for them.”

  She jumped up, placing her tiny front paws on my knees and cocking her head.

  “Good try, sweetie. You still have to wait.”

  Back on the first floor, I collected the keys and waited in line to pay for them, the treats, and the bolt lock.

  The woman first in line at the counter must have clipped up her long blonde hair in a hurry. The barrette had gone askew. Her tresses hung lopsided and tousled as though they hadn’t been brushed. A fashionable sleeveless white dress clung to her thin frame. More appropriate for summer than fall, it appeared oddly out of place in the hardware store, as though she were heading to a cocktail party. The snazzy high heels had to be designer, and a hefty gold bracelet of linked horse snaffle bits hung on her thin wrist.

  I edged to the side for a better look at her face. “Clementine?”

  Her fingers, busy in a quilted leather Chanel wallet, froze. She winced. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned toward me. Her entire frame appeared to sag with relief. “Holly! Uh, just a sec.”

  She paid for three cans of cat food in quarters and dimes, thanked the clerk, and took her bag before stepping aside and reaching out for a hug. “Gosh, it’s good to see you. I’d heard you were moving to town.”