Pumpkins, Paws and Murder (A Dickens & Christie mystery Book 2)

by Kathy Manos Penn

  Christie’s ears perked up and she meowed. “You’re going to Agatha Christie’s home, and you’re not taking me? You cannot be serious.”

  Wendy looked at my vocal cat. “Do you think she heard her name? What was that screech about?”

  “Oh, she probably wants to go too,” I said, “But there’s not enough room in my taxi for three women, a dog, and a cat carrier. Good thing she likes Peter.”

  Christie reached up and patted Belle on the chin and meowed again. “I really like you. Tell them you want me to go.”

  We all laughed at her. Christie knew good and darned well only I could understand her. Her message was coming through loud and clear, but there was not a chance she was going with us.

  “Shall we shoot for a Wednesday departure? By then, Gemma will have the medical examiner’s report and if it wasn’t murder, we can skip the sleuthing part. We can spend all our time shopping, eating out, and taking tours. What do you think?”

  Wendy was full of ideas. “It’s about a three-hour drive. If we leave by noon, we’ll be there by mid-afternoon and have time to visit a few shops before dinner. Leta, do you want to book the hotel for three nights, and we can return home Saturday after breakfast?”

  Beatrix looked as though she didn’t know what to think about our expedition. “There’s a part of me that wants to go with you, but I think I’m just happy to putter around my bookshop. Will you keep me posted along the way?”

  “Sure thing,” said Wendy. “And, Leta, I’ll get with Peter about taking care of Tigger and Christie. Least I can do if you’re making the lodging arrangements. Now, Mum, it’s time we called it a night.”

  We all walked out together, and Beatrix drove off first. “Ladies,” I said to Belle and Wendy, “Looks like, for now, our new name is Leta’s Traveling Detective Agency.”

  Wendy helped her mum into the car and broke into song. “‘On the road again’ . . . And a theme song too! See you Wednesday.”

  Chapter Six

  With no detective tasks on the schedule, Tuesday felt like a day off. I didn’t have to rush out the door to check on anyone, and I could drink coffee and scan the online news still in my robe. Heck, I could make a morning yoga class at Rhiannon’s studio. I let Dickens out, gave Christie her expected puddle of milk, and sipped my coffee.

  Christie was being unusually sweet, not that she wasn’t an affectionate cat, but I expected huffy behavior after last night’s discussion of leaving her behind. She put her paws on my chair seat and jumped into my lap. “Okay, I get why I can’t go, but I hate being left out. Will you bring me something from Agatha’s place?”

  “Agatha’s place? Now you’re on a first-name basis with Dame Agatha? Not sure what you’d like from a home that’s a museum, but I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps I’ll find some special kitty treats in Totnes. Would organic treats suit you?”

  The princess purred. “As long as they’re tasty, that would be super. No kale.”

  Dickens barked at the door to be let in. As was his habit, he lapped up the bit of milk Christie had left in her dish. Heaven forbid there be any trace of food or milk remaining. Only after Christie’s dish was clean did he turn to his own bowl.

  “So, boy, when I come back from yoga, shall we take a walk, maybe visit Martha and Dylan?”

  “Oh yes, and we can discuss the case. I sure am looking forward to our road trip.”

  How nice that everyone was so agreeable this morning. As I changed into my yoga pants and headed to town, I wondered whether the backpack I’d ordered would be waiting by the door when I returned. That would be a nice treat for Christie . . . I hoped.

  Today’s session concentrated on inversions culminating with headstands. It was my least favorite of Rhiannon’s classes. I had mastered headstands against the wall but didn’t think I’d ever manage to do one in the middle of the room. Rhiannon continued to tell me it was my mind that was holding me back, not my body. She said my arms and shoulders were strong enough, and one day she’d get me up.

  Rhiannon tidied up the room when class ended. “Ready for cup of coffee at Toby’s?” she asked.

  “Love one. Wonder if he’ll have some pumpkin spice scones left after the early morning rush. That and a latte would make my day.”

  We were in luck. Jenny was taking a fresh batch of scones from the oven when we walked in, and we each ordered one to go with our drinks. Rhiannon was tuned into the village grapevine and knew about the body at the inn and Gemma interviewing Trixie. She’d checked on Libby this morning by phone and said she sounded near to her old self.

  When I told her about our trip to Totnes, she broke into a grin. “Wish I could go, but I can’t very well shut down the studio. I love the vibe in Totnes. You know they say New Age happened there before it hit most other places in the UK, and it’s always been a magnet for artists, musicians, and pagans. I’ve been to a few yoga retreats there and would love to go back. Maybe you, Wendy, and I can sign up for one this winter when business is slow in Astonbury.”

  “I bet we’d enjoy that. I’ll see what I can find out while we’re there. Our focus this trip is finding out what we can about Max and Sparkle and whatever else, but I’m sure we’ll find time for a bit of retail therapy. What better way to make inquiries than to visit the shops on High Street.”

  Rhiannon looked at me thoughtfully. “I think your trip sounds grand, but I’m curious. You’ve spoken with Trixie. Why not Sparkle? Seems to me she could give you another perspective on Max. And the poor girl could probably use someone to talk to. After all, she just lost her boyfriend.”

  She had a point. Why hadn’t I spoken with Sparkle? At first, it was because I couldn’t imagine she’d want to speak with me. I thought for a moment. When I heard Sparkle had lied to Constable James, had I subconsciously formed an unfavorable impression of her?

  “Gee, Rhiannon, that’s a good question. You just gave me a much-needed shake, and I feel bad that I haven’t reached out to the girl. I think in my concern for Trixie, I lost sight of Sparkle’s feelings, and that’s not like me. At least, I hope it isn’t.”

  Rhiannon shook her head. “How like you to feel guilty. I didn’t mean to imply it’s your job to comfort everyone who crosses your path. Sorry if it sounded that way. I had as much interaction with her as you did, and I haven’t sought her out either.”

  “Thanks for that. Bet you didn’t know how prone I am to second-guessing myself. Still, you make a good point. I bet Sparkle could use someone to talk to, and she could also provide a more recent perspective on Max. I’ll text Summer for her number.”

  Summer replied to my request as I was driving home, and I was all set to ring Sparkle until I spied the Amazon box propped against my garage door. I knew it was the backpack. Dickens and Christie both looked at me, and Christie meowed loudly. The girl loved boxes.

  When I pulled out the contents, Dickens barked. “Are you taking a backpack on our walk, or is that for the trip?”

  “This is for Christie if she’ll give it a try. Are you game, girl?”

  Christie backed away. “Game for what, exactly?”

  I explained my idea for taking her on walks with me and Dickens. She looked skeptical, but she wanted badly to be included. She moved closer to the backpack and sniffed it. Next, she stretched out a paw for a tentative touch, and finally, she stuck her head into the opening.

  “Kind of like a box,” she meowed. “Except it’s cloth.”

  I left her in the kitchen to explore the backpack while I changed into warm clothes. Dickens’s reaction to my gloves, jacket, and wool cap was to bark and stand by the door. He was ready for his leash, but first I wanted to place Christie in the backpack.

  “You ready to give it a try?”

  Her response was to crawl all the way in, turn around, and poke her head out. Maybe this would work after all. I attached a short, slim leash to her breakaway collar and connected it to a ring on the backpack. I couldn’t chance her leaping out but also had to be sure she didn’t
choke herself if she tried. When I had my arms in the straps, she meowed but stayed put.

  “Okay, gang, let’s be on our way. The Parker family is going on its first walk together.” Christie meowed, Dickens barked, and off we went. The chatter was nonstop.

  Dickens pointed out everything as we walked. “See the bird on the fence. And look, you can see the sheep off in the distance. Just wait ’til you see the donkeys. They’re awesome.”

  Christie rode with her paws at the base of my neck and occasionally gave me a lick. With a soft meow, she spoke up. “Look at the birds in the trees. And, oh, is that a squirrel? Leta, this is super cool.”

  She was beside herself when Martha and Dylan trotted to the fence. When I reached into the side pouch to retrieve the carrots, she meowed, “Oh, that’s who the carrots are for. I always wondered why you and Dickens took carrots with you.”

  I leaned over the fence so she could sniff Dylan’s nose. The donkeys took this new visitor in stride, and it was only when Dylan’s nostrils flared that Christie screeched and jerked back.

  “That’s one big nose,” she meowed.

  My experiment was going well, so I asked my companions if they were up for a visit to the inn. Christie had never met Paddington, and I wondered how that would go.

  Dickens thought it was a grand idea. “Christie, I’ll introduce you. Paddington and I have great fun together.”

  I couldn’t see Christie, but I imagined her rolling her eyes. “Pfft, is that the cat who thinks he’s Leta’s special friend? I’ll be happy to set him straight.”

  My girl could get on her high horse in a heartbeat. Ever since she’d learned Paddington had slept in my room when I stayed at the inn, she’d been miffed. It was past time for the two to get to know each other and become friends.

  Dickens was having none of her attitude. “Christie, I’ve already told Paddington you’re top cat, and he’s cool with that. If we’re lucky, we can all play in the dirty linens together.”

  As we walked up the drive, I explained to Christie that I’d let her out of the backpack and off the leash if she’d promise to stay inside the inn. Probably because she was unsure of her surroundings, she agreed without putting up a fuss.

  Dickens took off to look for Paddington, and I found Gavin at his desk in the conservatory. He chuckled when he saw Christie peeking out of her backpack. “Now that’s a sight. How did you get her to agree to that?”

  I couldn’t tell him that Christie frequently fussed at being left behind, so I fudged. “She seems so lonely when Dickens and I take our long walks; I thought she’d enjoy going with us. So far, I think she likes it. You should have seen her sniff Dylan’s nose.

  “If it’s okay with you, I’ll take her out of the backpack and let her explore. Hopefully, she and Paddington will get along.”

  Gavin grinned. “Paddington might enjoy having a four-legged visitor—in addition to Dickens, of course. I suspect he makes plenty of friends on his nightly rambles. I’ve just never met any of them. I’m not sure what he gets up to every night, but sometimes he comes back with burrs or muddy paws, not to mention the occasional gift. If he could talk, he’d have a tale for us.”

  I set my pack on the floor, unlatched Christie, and lifted her out. She crouched by the pack and surveyed her surroundings before stretching out a tentative paw. In a flash, she leaped to Gavin’s desk, scattering papers. She dipped her paws and her nose over the edge to the file drawer. I knew exactly what she was after.

  “Christie, I don’t think Gavin keeps cat treats in his desk drawer.”

  She looked up as though in shock. “He doesn’t? Why not?”

  “Gavin, I keep cat treats in my desk at home, so that’s what she’s looking for. Do you have any around? Point me in the right direction, and I’ll get them.”

  Now, he was laughing. “Oh, Paddington’s are kept in the laundry room. Jill’s in there. She’ll point them out for you.”

  I left Christie stretched out on the desk, getting her ears scratched by Gavin. Sure enough, Jill showed me the cat treats. We chatted for a moment about how she was faring after her encounter with Max.

  “Gemma tells me he’d been reported to the police several times in Totnes for the same thing, but no one ever went as far as pressing charges. Guess he could turn on the charm when he was sober. Do you think he’d have been by here the next day to apologize and chat me up if he hadn’t died?”

  “Could have been his pattern, I suppose,” I mused. “But being let off the hook doesn’t make him any less of a jerk in my book. What else did Gemma find out?”

  “Not much. He was brought up in foster care, and she didn’t find any immediate family. She said he’d been hauled in for bar brawls, public drunkenness, and the like, but never spent more than a night locked up. I think it’s odd. He was so good with the kids on Saturday and seemed to genuinely enjoy entertaining them, but I don’t recall seeing him smile much any other time.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have a particularly happy life. Trixie might have been the one bright spot, but he blew that.”

  I took some cat treats and carried them to the conservatory. I could hear Dickens barking, a cat howling, and Libby laughing as I approached.

  “Leta, will you look at this?” cried Libby. “Paddington seems riled that Christie’s on the desk. He’s perched on the bookcase, doing his low-pitched howl, and I could swear your cat’s looking at him as if to say, ‘I’m in charge now.’”

  Libby didn’t realize how accurate she was. Gavin was quiet, Christie was taunting Paddington, and Dickens was trying to make peace between the two felines. I grabbed Christie and whispered in her ear. “Behave, missy, or there’ll be no treats for you . . . and no more trips to the inn.”

  How could she look so innocent? How had she managed to create an uproar without lifting a paw? Attitude. It was all about attitude, and Christie had it in spades.

  “Leta, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she meowed sweetly. “I’ve been resting on the desk minding my own business. It’s Paddington who’s being inhospitable.”

  Paddington chose that moment to hiss. “She waltzes in here like some kind of primadonna and demands treats—my treats—and she calls me inhospitable? Who does she think she is?”

  That was it. Much to the dismay of Paddington, I carried Christie to the bookcase. “Okay, you two, you’re my favorite felines. Christie, you’re my princess, and Paddington, you’re my prince. I, however, am the Queen, and I expect you two to knock it off. Are we clear?”

  They both huffed and looked at me. Then Paddington leaped down and twined around my ankles, and I put Christie on the floor beside him. The two circled each other as we all watched.

  Dickens dashed over. “About time, you two. Now, let’s have some fun. Jill left a pile of dirty linens at the top of the stairs.”

  With that, they took off. The looks on Gavin and Libby’s faces were priceless.

  “What just happened?” asked Libby.

  I laughed and told a half-truth. “Who knows? I’ve found if I use a certain tone with Christie, she responds, and it seems to work on Paddington too.”

  “I’ve heard of horse whisperers,” said Gavin. “Maybe you’re a cat whisperer.”

  It was time to change the subject. “Right. Let’s not get carried away. So, Libby, how are you doing today?”

  Libby seemed to be improving. She’d slept Monday night without the sedatives and felt almost back to normal. When she offered me a cup of tea, we left Gavin to his paperwork and continued our chat in the kitchen. She was interested in the plan to visit Totnes and suggested I stay for lunch because Gemma would be coming by for a bite.

  “I think Gemma’s gotten the autopsy results, and she’s stopping by here before she goes to the caravan park in Bourton-on-the-Water.”

  I was eager to hear what the coroner had to say and surprised that Gemma was just now getting to the caravan. Though my sister Anna had jokingly said Astonbury was crime-ridden, that really wasn�
��t the case, and I knew the delay in the caravan visit stemmed from lack of manpower at the Stow-on-the-Wold police station.

  I knew Gemma had her work cut out for her. “Guess it’s not like Oxford or London, where a team of police officers would’ve already descended on the caravan, maybe the magic shop in Totnes, and who knows where else. Other than someone to run background checks on the computer, it’s pretty much down to Gemma and Constable James to do all the legwork.”

  “Yes, and it’s down to Gemma’s mum to see the girl gets a decent meal now and then,” said Libby. “When she’s anywhere near, I encourage her to grab lunch or tea or whatever.”

  While we waited, Libby filled me in on how much money we’d raised at the Fête and how the various booths and events had done. I was pleased to hear our two costumed groups had brought in a sizable chunk, as had the auction of the scarecrows.

  “That reminds me, I need to find the best spot for my Raggedy Ann and Andy scarecrows. Want to help me with that?”

  Of course I did, so we fetched them from the garage and wandered the garden and courtyard. We decided they looked best in the flowerbed to the left of the front door where they could greet the inn guests.

  Gemma pulled up as we were standing back to admire our work. “Good choice, ladies. Those two are sure to make weary travelers smile.”

  “Hello, dear. I’ve invited Leta to join us for lunch. I hope you have more than a few minutes.”

  “I’m due to meet the manager of the caravan park in an hour, so I have exactly forty-five minutes, Mum.”

  We hustled inside, where Libby ladled vegetable soup into bowls and pulled plates of chicken salad from the fridge. Gemma and I dug in as Libby took a tray to Gavin at his desk. We’d almost finished our soup by the time she returned to serve herself.

  “Your recipe or Gavin’s?” I asked. “Delicious.”

  Libby laughed. “It’s different every time, so it’s hard to say. We start with ground beef or maybe a bone from a roast and add whatever vegetables are available at the farmer’s market. If you show up next week, it won’t be the same.”