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

by Krista Davis

  At that moment, the drinks arrived. Black, orange, red, and glow-in-the-dark blue. Black sugar rimmed some of the glasses. Dry ice caused fog to float off of others. When we recovered from our amusement, Mark finally answered.

  “The same old stuff about Mallory. In a way, I can see why it sounds odd to them. Mallory is . . . was . . . kind of childish. At first her attention was flattering. She was like a ghostie groupie. It didn’t last long, though. For more than a year we had no communication at all.” He rested his elbows on the table and tented his fingers. “She appeared on my doorstep here in Wagtail without advance warning a few months ago. She had heard about the Apparition Apprehenders and the TV show. I informed her we had filled the positions and there was no room for her. My big mistake was letting her stay the weekend. She kept coming back. And then she went and promised Rose she would play the part of Becca Wraith. When Mallory showed up this weekend I told her she had to find a room someplace else, but everything was booked for Howloween. I didn’t want to let Rose down, so I agreed that she could stay with me. I wish I had never done that.” Mark closed his eyes. “If she had gone home, she’d be alive right now.”

  Felix broke the silence. “It’s not your fault, Mark. You don’t know what might have happened if you had turned her away. She might have died sooner.”

  “Yeah,” said Grayson. “Hindsight always makes us wish we would have done things differently, but we don’t know what might have happened instead.”

  Eva took Mark’s hand and squeezed it in a show of solidarity.

  “Do they have any leads?” asked Brian, looking straight at Eva.

  “Like they would tell me?” Mark sipped his drink and then shook his forefinger. “But here’s something bizarre. They asked me if any of us had a leg injury. What do you think that means?”

  I suspected I knew. Clementine must have told Dave about the person with the odd gait. I wasn’t about to spill those beans, though. I scanned the people at the table. No one appeared upset by the revelation. What if the killer hadn’t been a ghost hunter at all? Maybe a total stranger had killed Mallory.

  Over an hour later, we groaned after polishing off a six-layer Deadly Devil’s Food Cake with orange frosting and a scarily decadent chocolate ganache poured over the top and sides. Felix, Eva, and I still had time to get a little trick-or-treating in for Trixie, Casper, Mrs. Mewer, and Twinkletoes.

  The entire group came along for fun. In the plaza in front of the inn, a witch was handing out maps and paper trick-or-treat bags imprinted with the word Howloween and an adorable dog and cat wearing witchy attire.

  The witch rested a scraggly black fingernail against the wart on her nose. She gazed at the faces around her, causing several children to shriek and hide behind their parents. But every single one of them peered out at the witch. The toes of her shoes curled upward, and I suspected that the green stars on her stockings glowed in the dark.

  She cackled gleefully and threw her head back. The black hat with large white polka dots and a giant black-and-white bow stayed on her head, but the spider that hung off the bent tip swung through the air, eliciting more screams of fright.

  “You, my little one.” She pointed a gnarled forefinger at me and crooked it. “Come here, my dear,” she said in a singsong voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  I shuffled through the crowd as though I had no will of my own and was under her power.

  A dachshund dressed as a skunk yelped a warning at Trixie as we approached the witch. But the scary woman didn’t fool Trixie for a minute. She knew Rose by scent and wagged her tail with joy.

  Rose cackled at a boy who was pretending to be cool and bored with the whole thing.

  He jumped back and stuck closer to his dad, never taking his eyes off Rose.

  She raised her arms dramatically and whispered to me.

  Thirty

  “Go by Doc’s house and see if Birdie is there, will you? Mr. Luciano went out to dinner with Lillian. If I know Birdie, and I suspect I do, she’s chasing Doc again.”

  I tried not to giggle about the small-town romances and jealousies. “What does Doc’s place look like?”

  “It’s down Cedar Street. You can’t miss it. Skeletons are crawling out of the upstairs windows.”

  I pretended to be entranced and walked away from Rose with my arms raised and pointing straight forward, like Frankenstein. Little kids parted before me, skittering back in fear.

  The ghost hunters fell in step, Felix and Grayson copying my awkward walk, and we marched toward the residential area on the east side of Wagtail.

  We soon broke into giggles and relaxed. The residents of Wagtail had outdone themselves again. Porch lights glowed, illuminating skeletons, witches, and, on one porch, a headless couple dressed for a ball. Children raced around the streets comparing their loot and pointing out the houses that were doling out the best booty. Costumed dogs and cats were either excited or wary in the midst of the commotion.

  Mark shouted, “Look, a bat!”

  We all turned our attention overhead. Indeed, a tiny bat flew along the street, swooping up and down.

  Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer froze in ready-to-jump positions. If it came back our way and swooped too low, one of them might snag it.

  Screams arose and children rushed back to their parents. A few of the dogs yelped and tried to chase it.

  We visited a few houses, collecting an assortment of made-in-Wagtail dog and cat treats.

  Brian collected people treats at each house. We made fun of him until we hit a home where a sweet lady was handing out homemade chocolate chip cookies. Even thought we’d eaten dinner and had full stomachs, the scent wafting out the door almost induced drooling. Each of us politely accepted a soft cookie full of melting chocolate.

  At the house across the street, a fog concealed much of the porch. In the mist we could make out a man holding up a lantern in one hand and lifting off his head with the other. Upstairs, skeletons crawled out of the windows. Doc had gone all out for Howloween.

  Even though we knew it was make-believe, the headless man caused us to approach the house with caution. Doomsday music played when Mark rang the doorbell.

  The door opened slowly with a frightening creak, and a black dog in a Batman costume dashed out, wagging his tail. He ran straight to Grayson, who rubbed his head with both hands.

  “Hey, Siggie. How’s my pal?” asked Grayson.

  Doc stepped out holding bowls of treats.

  There weren’t many lights on inside the house. I shuffled over to get a better look. No sign of Birdie or any other female company.

  I went out on a limb and whispered, “Doc, Rose is afraid Birdie is visiting you.”

  He laughed heartily. “Not to worry, I’ll see Rose a little bit later on tonight. Birdie seems more interested in Luciano these days.”

  “I’m sure you don’t mind that.”

  Doc raised his eyebrows. “Don’t sell your aunt short, Holly. She’s a very bright woman.”

  That took me completely by surprise. Aunt Birdie drove some people bananas, yet had ingratiated herself with others. I thanked him for the cat and dog treats and scuttled down the stairs of his front porch.

  On our way back to the inn, I sought out Rose to assure her that Birdie hadn’t been visiting Doc. I needn’t have worried. Doc was already with her.

  “Holly!” called Rose. “Did Holmes find you? He said you have the wrong shoe.”

  “Wrong shoe?”

  “That’s what he said. For a costume, maybe?”

  I shrugged. I had no idea what he was talking about. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Rose!”

  Back at the inn, I phoned Holmes, but his number rolled over to voice mail.

  * * *

  At eleven o’clock, Oma retired to her quarters, and I filled in for Casey behind the registration desk. Silent tranquility had settl
ed over the inn. The Apparition Apprehenders had all gone over to the Wagtail Springs Hotel for a final investigation. Mrs. Mewer and Twinkletoes were nowhere to be seen.

  “Looks like it’s just the two of us, Trixie.”

  She wagged her short tail and aimed her nose at the treat jar on the counter.

  “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” I indulged her with a tiny Sugar Maple Inn cookie.

  I tidied up a little bit, replenishing brochures and tucking away items that needed to be out of sight. The shoe Casper had carried around and chewed on was still in the lost and found box. One of the ghost hunters would probably realize that he had lost it after he checked out, went home, and unpacked.

  I brought the bills up to date on the computer, an easy task because Mr. Luciano was footing the expense for everyone except Lillian Elsner and Parker Colby. By midnight, I realized why Casey often napped on the love seat. My eyelids were growing heavy and precious little remained to be done.

  The registration area Oma had built made sense for arriving and departing guests. But at this hour, I felt as though anything could be happening in the hotel without my knowledge. I would have to talk to Oma about making a change.

  To be on the safe side, I took a cue from Casey and walked through the silent hallway to make sure the front door was still locked. It was. But it wouldn’t hurt to put on a pot of coffee. Without caffeine, I would drift off to sleep.

  Trixie pricked her ears and turned in the direction of the registration area. Uh-oh. What if someone was looking for me?

  I jogged along the hallway behind Trixie, whose nails clicked against the floor as she ran ahead. A gust of cold wind blew into the room as the automatic doors slid closed.

  “Hello?” I called.

  No one answered. I peeked in the office. Empty. I couldn’t help thinking it was eerily reminiscent of the day the Apparition Apprehenders checked in. Someone had said it was a ghost when the doors opened on their own and wind blew through the room.

  Against my better judgment, I looked up at the wall where we had seen the orb. Perfectly normal. “I’ve been hanging around ghost hunters too long, Trixie. I’m beginning to think there are such things as ghosts.”

  Trixie followed a scent on the floor. She sniffed upward and, for a moment, I thought she was smelling the treat jar, but she balanced on her hind legs and overturned the lost and found box with her front paws.

  “Trixie!”

  I knelt on the floor and gathered the items. A child-sized red and blue mitten, a sheer pink blouse that made me wonder how the owner lost it, three dog toys, and a thin camera. Replacing the box where it belonged, I said, “Don’t do that again.”

  She wagged her tail as though I had said she was the best dog in the world. I leaned over and hugged her.

  And then I realized that the gust of wind had definitely not been a ghost. As far as I knew, ghosts were not in the habit of stealing shoes.

  Thirty-one

  In case I was wrong about that, I knelt on the floor again, just to be sure the shoe hadn’t slid under the desk or been overlooked. It wasn’t there.

  “Who would steal a shoe from a lost and found box?”

  Trixie knew, of course. She had smelled the scent on the box. But she wasn’t telling. Where was Zelda when I needed to read Trixie’s mind?

  I hit the button to lock the doors. From now on at least I would know who came in or out. Suddenly, I wasn’t quite so sleepy anymore. I pulled the box out from under the counter and took everything out. There was no question about it—the shoe was gone. But why? To be on the safe side, I made an inventory of the contents before putting them all back into the box.

  Casper had picked up the shoe somewhere. Most likely he found it inside the inn. Felix would have noticed Casper carrying it around if he had discovered it outside. It had been a quality shoe of soft leather. Casper had left some scratches on it, but the shoe hadn’t been wet. Of course, it could have dried in the days since Mallory’s death. Didn’t leather become stiff after being wet? Would Casper’s chewing have softened it up? The leather had still been supple.

  If the shoe had been worn by the killer, then he probably was staying at the inn.

  Nonsense. I was being silly and leaping to conclusions. One of the ghost hunters had probably griped about his missing shoe, and when Felix said it was in the lost and found box, he ran back to the inn to retrieve it.

  There were serious flaws in my logic. Why not pick it up when he returned? Why take it back to the haunted hotel with him? Ugh. There must be some logical and perfectly innocent reason that someone barged in at midnight to swipe that shoe.

  I wondered what size the shoe had been. Why hadn’t I paid attention? Such an obvious detail.

  At one in the morning, Mr. Luciano, Lillian Elsner, and GloryB returned from the ghost hunt and rang the bell to enter. I pressed the button under the desk and the door slid open.

  “How’s it going over there?” I asked.

  “No sign of any child ghosts. They’re all a bit disappointed,” Lillian said.

  “I’m exhausted.” Mr. Luciano wiped his brow. “Ah, to be younger again and think nothing of carousing in the wee hours.”

  “It’s amazing how many people are still milling about in the pedestrian zone.” Lillian smiled at Mr. Luciano. “We considered stopping for a nightcap, but”—she clasped a hand just below her neck—“we changed our minds.”

  I thought I could read her mind. “Aunt Birdie?”

  “Goodness, but she can be a pest,” Lillian said, laughing. “I believe she thinks I’m chasing our dear Mr. Luciano! Isn’t that cute? We met here at the inn for the first time a few days ago. We’re becoming good friends but nothing more.”

  “Your aunt is a lovely woman but a bit possessive,” said Mr. Luciano in a very dignified and polite way.

  A bit obsessive, too, if you asked me. “Perhaps I could offer you a nightcap? Birdie’s not here, so I think you’ll be safe from her claws.”

  “That would be delightful. Thank you, Holly.” Mr. Luciano peeled off his jacket and helped Lillian with hers.

  Lillian pushed her hair into place. “I don’t think it’s a typical nightcap, but the ghost hunters have talked about it so much that I’m itching to try a Zombie Brain. Would that be too much trouble?”

  “No trouble at all,” I assured her. “Mr. Luciano?”

  He laughed. “Make it two.”

  They settled on the love seat, and I dared to leave them alone while I dashed to the kitchen. A quick call to Hair of the Dog and I had Val’s super easy recipe. When I poured the Rose’s Sweet Lime on top of the Bailey’s, it sank through the Bailey’s in small greenish clouds. Definitely spooky—and a little bit repulsive.

  I set the small glasses on a silver tray and added a plate with a few of the pumpkin whoopie pies in case they wanted a little nosh.

  When I returned, I overheard Lillian talking.

  “—I never expected to love Wagtail so much.” She took the drink and napkin I held out on a tray. “Thank you, Holly.” She sipped her drink. “Oh, it’s strong!” Taking a breath, she continued. “I lost my husband a few years ago. It was a bigger adjustment than I could have imagined. I didn’t realize how much our lives revolved around his career.”

  “That would have been Congressman Elsner?” asked Mr. Luciano. At her nod, he smiled. “A virtuous man.”

  Lillian threw her head back and laughed with glee. “You should be a politician. Such a delicate way of putting it. I loved the man, but he was draconian. Rigid and punctilious. Heaven forbid a hair be out of place. My gracious, but he was fussy.” She flipped back a tendril of hair. “Now that I have no need to live near Washington anymore, I’ve been looking for a place where I can be myself. Be a little more relaxed.” She leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper, “Wear a T-shirt and get dirty in a garden!”

 
When we stopped laughing she said, “Mark’s parents raved about Wagtail. I thought it would be a nice little vacation for GloryB and me. But now I think I might want to buy a cabin in the woods. It’s just so relaxing here.”

  “You knew Mark before you came here?” I asked.

  “Oh sure. Since his I-will-not-wear-clothes days when he ran around buck naked.”

  Mr. Luciano grinned. “I hope that wasn’t recently.”

  “I think he was about two or three,” she assured him.

  “Did you have a chance to visit with Mark before”—I stopped short of saying the ugly truth, before the murder—“before he got so busy with the ghost hunting?”

  “I did. I had a couple of lovely dinners with Mark and Grayson. The only damper on this trip has been the death of that poor young woman Mallory. I warned Mark about her. I knew she was trouble. It breaks my heart to think that Mark is under suspicion.”

  “Indeed,” said Mr. Luciano. “He’s a fine young man. I hope things will blossom between Mark and Eva. If I’m not mistaken, I believe I’ve seen a twinkle in his eyes when he looks at her.”

  Mr. Luciano and Lillian headed off to bed, leaving me to take care of paperwork in the office and contemplate Mark. Everything seemed to point at him. His involvement with Eva was especially concerning. We all thought Mallory had a lot of nerve taking credit for his book. But what if he did the research, and she wrote the book? Had he given her credit? We probably had a copy. If I knew Oma, she would have purchased it.

  I scrambled to my feet and hurried to the inn library. Yesterday’s newspaper lay on the hardwood floor, shredded. Assorted books had been knocked from the shelves, the pages clawed.

  Trixie had been with me the whole time. Gingersnap had retired to bed with Oma. Casper was out hunting ghosts with Felix. But this mystery wasn’t quite as difficult to solve. Two furry rascals had the run of the inn. While I’d been working, they had been, too.

  “Twinkletoes!” I called softly.

  Trixie made a mad dash for Eva’s room. She’d left her door ajar. I knocked out of habit, pushed the door open, and switched on the chandelier overhead. Mrs. Mewer and Twinkletoes sat on the bed looking as innocent as little kittens. A telltale shred of a page clung to one of Mrs. Mewer’s claws. I closed the door so they wouldn’t attack any more books.