Not a Creature Was Purring

by Krista Davis

  “I’d like to think you’re right, Tiffie, but I’m not sure that we can count on Deputy Dufus.” For once Blake wasn’t insulting his sister. “We’re out in the boonies! Don’t you think they overlook the crimes of locals? They’re liable to hide the evidence or lose it accidentally-on-purpose to protect their friends.”

  I recognized Tiffany’s voice. “I hope it was that horrible Steve Oathaut. We need to put this behind us and band together so we can go home and start fixing the problems with Thackleberry. I can’t believe he started that rumor about our fabric. It doesn’t get lower than that!”

  “What if it was Holmes’s Grandma Rose?” asked Norma Jeanne.

  I had to stifle my gasp.

  “That old lady? Face it, Norma Jeanne. It’s over with Holmes, and you brought it all on yourself.” Blake sounded matter-of-fact. “We need to save what we can and move forward.”

  “That’s right,” added Tiffany. “And there’s no evidence pointing toward Holmes’s grandmother.”

  “What if she was having an affair with Gramps, too?” asked Norma Jeanne.

  One of them snorted and laughed. Blake?

  Holmes sidled up to me and grinned. Evidently he hadn’t overheard their discussion about Rose.

  I was painfully aware that the tables had turned and they were probably listening to the two of us now. Before he could bring up the murders, I hastily said, “Hungry? I’m looking forward to dinner.”

  We mingled with the others, but I couldn’t help noticing that Norma Jeanne kept a close eye on Holmes.

  Leaving the inn in the capable hands of Casey, who had celebrated the holiday earlier with his family, we walked the short distance to The Blue Boar, located next door to the inn.

  When we arrived and took seats, I wound up sitting next to Holmes. I looked around for Aunt Birdie, but she wasn’t there. Oma was seated nearby. I walked over to her and asked in a low voice, “No word from Aunt Birdie yet?”

  Oma took my hand into hers. “I wish Birdie could see how concerned you are. Maybe she will still come.”

  Rose leaned toward me. “Norma Jeanne, Tim, and Blake are too depressed to join us tonight. Maybe Birdie is feeling the impact of Dale’s death and wants to be alone. This has been a tragic holiday for all of them.”

  I returned to my seat. Rose was right, of course. If I had lost a loved one, I probably wouldn’t be up to celebrating, either.

  But plenty of their family members were sociable. Tiffany sat between Linda and Doris, chattering as though she were feeling upbeat.

  EmmyLou seemed pensive. She held her hands as if in prayer but slid her fingers against one another somewhat nervously while gazing out the window.

  Maggie, Gingersnap, Muffy, and Trixie roamed the room, visiting with one another and getting attention from everyone.

  All things considered, spirits were high as we devoured a rich shrimp bisque. If I hadn’t known other dishes were coming, I would have wanted more.

  Holmes nudged me and hissed, “You were there. Do you think it was this Steve Oathaut fellow?”

  My eyes met his. “He’s a crook, but I don’t know if he killed them. I’d feel better if we had some DNA or the murder weapon or something.”

  “They’re probably checking his room for a sleeping pill bottle.”

  “Doris takes prescription sleeping pills,” I whispered.

  “One of the Thackleberrys could have swiped some. I can’t imagine it was Doris. Really, can you see her jabbing her own son with a knife?”

  “Can she stand without her cane?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  I was gazing at the sweet old lady at the exact moment that Trixie sneaked close to the hiking stick that was propped by her chair. To my complete horror, Trixie sniffed the bottom of it and pawed at it, knocking it to the ground.

  Muffy barked and jumped off Doris’s lap. She growled and seized the wrist loop attached to the stick. Trixie gripped the bottom of the stick in her teeth and pulled ferociously. Trixie weighed more than little Muffy, which gave her the upper hand.

  A waiter happened by with a tray, didn’t see the dogs, tripped over the stick, and went flying. Dishes crashed to the floor. Shards and food flew everywhere.

  I jumped up as Gingersnap and Maggie rushed to join the excitement. The dogs were going to step on shards if we didn’t stop them.

  Holmes was right behind me when I picked up Trixie, who refused to relinquish her grip on the hiking stick. He nabbed Muffy, who continued to growl. But as we lifted them, the walking stick suddenly opened.

  Thirty-three

  We all watched as a knife blade appeared at the end of the hiking stick.

  Trixie still held the cover in her mouth.

  I heard people gasping at the blade, which gleamed as it caught the light.

  Muffy still growled, but Holmes held her fast.

  Oma stood up. “No one touch it.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

  I didn’t have to ask whom she was calling. I was fairly sure we were looking at the blade that had killed Dale. Steve Oathaut might be innocent after all!

  Either Doris was in shock or she did a great job of pretending. “I had no idea. Who would have suspected there was a knife in the hiking stick?”

  Everyone stared at her as she reached for it.

  “Don’t touch it, Doris,” said Oma. “I fear it may be the murder weapon.”

  “Nonsense.” Doris flicked her hand. “It was a gift from Dale.”

  “Do you know that for sure?” asked Rose.

  “Well, it wasn’t from anyone else. It must have been Dale who gave it to me.”

  Holmes’s eyes met mine. I hated to imagine that Doris was trying to cover up the murder of her own child. Could that be possible? Had she wrapped it herself and pretended it was a gift? That would have been diabolical.

  “I still think it’s better that no one touch it until Dave examines it,” said Oma.

  “May we clear the broken dishes?” asked the headwaiter.

  They were sweeping up the shards when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a message. Casey had texted, Received phone call about problem with your Aunt Birdie at Rupert’s house.

  Still carrying Trixie, I walked over to Holmes, who was returning Muffy to Doris. “Get a doggie bag for Trixie and me?”

  “What’s going on? Can I help?”

  “Aunt Birdie is up to her old tricks. Hopefully, I’ll be back before the turkey arrives.”

  I stopped by Oma’s table to let her know what was going on, then hurried to the inn to change into boots. I would break my leg or my neck if I tried to rush in my high-heeled dress shoes. Trixie and I left the inn at a run. As it turned out, snow boots weren’t very good for running, either. I slowed to a fast walk after a couple of blocks. I wasn’t a runner, but I blamed the stiff soles of my boots.

  As we neared Rupert’s house, I saw a small crowd outside again. My heart sank. What craziness was Aunt Birdie up to now?

  Trixie sped ahead of me. I broke through the crowd.

  Aunt Birdie stood in Rupert’s doorway, illuminated from behind. She wielded something in her hand like a sword. Another one? How many other women in Wagtail had hiking staffs loaded with a knife?

  “Birdie!” I screamed. I ran toward her. She held a hiking stick from which a knife protruded at the end. “Put that thing down.”

  “Holly! Don’t tell me you finally noticed my absence at Christmas dinner.”

  “You could have called,” I muttered, while very slowly reaching for the hiking staff.

  She whipped it away from me.

  “You related to her?” called a man. In the darkness I couldn’t make him out too well. Medium height, with a local accent.

  “She’s my aunt.”

  “Tell her I want my kids.”


  “They’re not your children, and you’ll have to kill me to get to them. Now go on your way.”

  “Aunt Birdie,” I whispered, “what’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” the man yelled. “I’m here to pick up the kids, but she won’t let me have them.”

  “Rupert’s children?” I asked.

  “Those children have been left in my custody, and I have no authorization to turn them over to the likes of you!” Aunt Birdie stood erect and pointed the knife at him.

  A cheer went up behind me in the house. I turned around and found three children smiling, one of whom was dancing with Trixie. “Who is that man?”

  One of Rupert’s daughters said, “He’s our mom’s boyfriend.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue.

  “We don’t like him,” said the one who played with Trixie.

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “He’s at the hospital with our big brother.”

  Aha. That explained a lot. If he had broken his leg in the hover board accident, they might be there all night, especially if it required surgery to set it. “Rupert asked you to sit with his children?” I asked Aunt Birdie.

  “He didn’t ask,” said the older girl. “Aunt Birdie told him to get on over to the hospital because Howie needed him. Daddy gave her a big ole sloppy kiss on her cheek and called her an angel from heaven.”

  That was a Christmas miracle if ever I heard one.

  “Aunt Birdie, would you lower that blade for a moment?” I asked.

  “I will not!”

  Trusting that she wouldn’t intentionally stab me with it, I walked over to the man in the dark. “Hi. I’m Holly Miller.” I had barely finished saying my name when my eyes focused and I recognized him from the photos posted in stores around town so clerks would be on the lookout for him.

  “Jed Kaine. Their mother sent me to collect the children.”

  I flushed in spite of the cold. The last thing I expected was to be confronting the infamous thief, Jed Kaine. I tried to hide my discomfort. “Jed, do you have an obstinate elderly aunt?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you have some older relatives who are stubborn?”

  His eyes squinched up, and he gazed at me like I had lost my mind. “My grandma Bethany. Don’t nobody cross her.”

  “My Aunt Birdie is like your grandmother. You can camp out here in the freezing cold all night, but you’re not getting those children. I can guarantee you that. What do you say we both leave them with Birdie and let their parents fight over the children tomorrow?” A brilliant thought came to mind. “Otherwise, we’ll have to get the law involved.”

  Jed’s eyes widened, and he focused on me intently. “That would, um, be a bad thing. It is Christmas after all.”

  “It is. Merry Christmas, Jed.”

  “Yeah. To you, too.” Jed turned and walked to the street. The children cheered again.

  I returned to Aunt Birdie and hustled her into the house. When the door was closed behind me, I turned the lock and leaned against the door.

  “Their mom is at the hospital, too?” I asked Aunt Birdie.

  She took on a snooty attitude. “I presume so. Such darling children. It’s a pity she took up with the likes of Jed Kaine.”

  The children played with Trixie under the glittering lights Rupert had draped along the ceiling. A fire blazed, and I spied cups of cocoa. It was a cozy scene. I had never suspected that Aunt Birdie would be good with children. “Have you eaten?”

  Aunt Birdie appeared taken aback, as though I had insulted her. “We had some of Rupert’s cookies in the afternoon.”

  I went to Rupert’s landline and phoned The Blue Boar. When I explained the situation, the owner agreed to pack up some Christmas dinners for them if I would transport them.

  That taken care of, one thing still worried me—Aunt Birdie’s weapon. Unless I missed my guess, the blade on one of the hiking staffs was going to match the holes in the Grinch. And even worse, the holes in Dale’s back.

  Thirty-four

  While Aunt Birdie jabbered with the kids, I took a minute to examine the hiking staff, gingerly holding it with paper napkins. Made of oak, the bottom was hollow with a cover for the retractable knife. “Where did you get this?”

  Aunt Birdie spoke as casually as if I had asked what was for lunch. “Those foolish cops. They were so intent on my kitchen knives. Do you know I had to spread butter with a spoon? I can’t eat any meat now. How would I cut it?”

  “They missed this?”

  She turned the most innocent face toward me. “Never underestimate a woman, Holly.”

  “I hope you don’t say things like that to Dave.”

  I took a closer look at the knife blade. She could have cleaned it with bleach. Any thinking killer would have done that. In any event, I didn’t see any sign of blood.

  I promised Aunt Birdie that I would return with dinner and left, waiting to be sure I heard the latch lock behind me before I ambled toward the street with Trixie.

  I paused a moment and looked around for Jed in case he was up to something.

  We walked back slowly. I wished the stores were open, because I wanted to know how common those hiking staffs were. In my head, I knew I had to tell Dave about Aunt Birdie’s staff. But in my heart I was reluctant. Given what they already thought about Birdie, they might really haul her off to jail. Would it be wrong not to say anything about it until they had ruled out Doris’s hiking staff?

  At The Blue Boar, Dave and Holmes were talking in front of the host stand. Dave held the staff in a gloved hand.

  My heart beat so hard that I was afraid Dave would hear it and know I was holding back information about Aunt Birdie owning the same kind of hiking staff.

  Holmes glanced at me. “I hear you were present when Doris opened this gift.”

  I nodded. “It was wrapped. I understand why Doris thinks it was from Dale. But that makes no sense. One of them brought it downstairs to the Dogwood Room. Unless one of the Thackleberrys found it in Dale’s room and carried it down . . .”

  “Holmes told me about Doris’s sleeping pills. How mobile is Doris? Could she have stabbed Dale?”

  “She wouldn’t have,” I said. “She was so proud of him. She loved her son.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked.” Dave eyed me with suspicion. Or was that my own guilt putting ideas into my head for not coming clean about Birdie’s hiking staff?

  “She walks well with a cane. I do have a little trouble imagining that she would walk all the way over to Rupert’s house, though. I don’t think she knows him. Why would she take a midnight stroll over to the Grinch?”

  “Curiosity?” suggested Dave.

  Why was I defending her? I truly could not imagine her killing Dale, but the more I argued against it, the more guilty it made Aunt Birdie seem. “It had to be another family member. If this hiking staff was the murder weapon, then it was very clever to pass it along to someone else who used it without knowledge of what it really was.”

  “That’s true,” said Holmes. “I’ve seen them before, but the knife is so well hidden that it’s hard to know which ones are loaded with a knife. If Trixie hadn’t been persistent about it, we might not have known until Doris got caught with it at the airport.”

  Dave looked down at Trixie. “That little girl has some nose. I bet she can smell the blood that we can’t see.”

  “I bet you’re right.” I had never heard sweeter words. Trixie had been with me at Rupert’s house, but she hadn’t made the same kind of fuss about Aunt Birdie’s hiking staff.

  “Does this mean Steve Oathaut is off the hook?” I asked.

  Dave frowned. “Not for Vivienne’s murder. He dumped her out a window!”

  Holmes reached into his pocket. “All of a sudden I’m getting a bunch of texts.” He frow
ned as he read them.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Probably.” He stuck his phone into his pocket. “I’d better go. See you later, Holly?”

  “Sure.” I watched as Dave took the staff and left, and Holmes set off for who-knew-where.

  While I waited for the meals for Aunt Birdie and the children, I peeked into the dining room. Oma and most of the Thackleberry crew were finishing their main course.

  My mouth watered at the scent of the traditional German meal of goose with potato dumplings. But I’d have enjoyed the roast turkey with mashed potatoes every bit as much. I hoped someone would remember to bring a doggie bag home for Trixie and me.

  The dinners were ready, neatly packaged in two bags to make them easy to carry. Trixie and I left in a rush so they wouldn’t be too cold by the time we delivered them to Rupert’s house.

  Notes of Christmas music tinkled in the distance, and I realized that the Christmas night event was under way on the green.

  Even before I knocked on Rupert’s door, I could tell Aunt Birdie and the kids were having a great time. High voices sang “Jingle Bells.”

  The music stopped at the sound of my knock. Aunt Birdie opened the door a crack and peered out at me. I held up the bags. “Oh, lovely, Holly! Thank you so much. Angels! Dinner is here!”

  The children clustered behind her, the smallest girl clinging to Aunt Birdie’s dress.

  She handed the bags to the two older children. Aunt Birdie embraced me and pecked me on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Holly.”

  She closed the door and turned the lock. I was fairly sure that Oma and Rose would be through with their dinners at The Blue Boar. No point in going back there.

  I strolled toward the green and heard the notes of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” Hundreds of people mingled in front of the huge Christmas tree. In the gazebo where Holmes had posed as Santa Paws, a band played, and a group of carolers coaxed people to join in. A few dogs added to the fun by howling.

  I was considering buying myself a nice hot Glühwein, the German version of mulled wine, when Trixie began sniffing around the Christkindl chalet that was draped with yellow police tape. I joined the line of people waiting to buy a hot drink. Snowflakes were beginning to drift down.