Murder, She Barked: A Paws & Claws Mystery (A Paws and Claws Mystery)

by Davis, Krista

  I suspected the unceasing rain was probably the driving force behind her choice, but I just nodded my head and hurried back to the car. If nothing else, I would find a home for her.

  When I opened the car door and lights illuminated the interior, I looked closely at the muddy yellowish dog with black ears, a black spot on her rump, an orange muzzle, and a Dorito clenched between her teeth. A Jack Russell terrier, I guessed. Her lively, intelligent eyes and body shape certainly suggested that.

  The bag of Doritos had been ripped open, and orangey chips lay on the seats, carpet, and middle console. If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d managed to chew the lid off my coffee and spill the entire contents on the carpet.

  Her eyes reminded me of a baby seal’s. Rimmed in black, with sweet white lashes, they studied me, waiting for my reaction. I burst out laughing. This day couldn’t get any worse. It was either laugh or cry, and I always preferred laughter.

  I bought more Doritos, another cup of makeshift café au lait, and a roll of paper towels.

  The dog promptly retreated to the backseat when I opened the passenger door and cleaned the mess she had made. Like the suede shoes I wore, the carpet would never recuperate. “Ben is not going to be happy about this,” I told her.

  Water squished out of my wool skirt when I settled into the driver’s seat for the last two-hour leg of the trip. Trying to ignore the discomfort of sitting on waterlogged wool, I put the car into gear and headed out on the nearly deserted road.

  Ben would never loan me his car again. He hadn’t had much choice when my phone rang during the tour of his boss’s vineyard. During the drive there, he’d asked me not to mention my employment issues. Issues, he’d called them! I got the message, though. The vineyard invitation was about him and his future with Mortie Foster’s law firm. He needed to put his best foot forward. I wasn’t offended. I understood the importance to him, and he deserved my support. But then he’d said something that blew my hopes to smithereens.

  “They will all find out soon enough that you’re persona non grata in the fund-raising community.”

  It wasn’t as though I hadn’t realized it somewhere deep in my subconscious. But when he said it out loud like that, I had visions of whispers about Holly Miller spreading like the threads of a spider web. No matter that I had been in the right—no one wanted a troublemaker. Finding a new job might not be as easy as I had hoped.

  I’d put on a happy face, though, for Ben’s sake. Not the easiest thing to do considering the way his boss’s daughter, Kim, had latched onto him. Easily ten or twelve years younger than Ben and me, probably still in her twenties, her bottle blonde hair curled like she’d just romped in bed. Her upper lip curled, too, suggesting a doctor had plumped it up.

  Jacqui Foster, his boss’s wife, had clutched Ben’s arm and snuggled up to him. “I always thought our Kim would marry Ben,” she’d said. “They made such a cute couple when they were dating.”

  A fine time to learn he had dated Kim. Didn’t Ben know he was supposed to tell a person when she was going into enemy territory?

  Jacqui had lifted my left hand to examine my ring. For a moment, I’d thought she might pull out a jeweler’s loupe to study it more precisely. “What, no engagement ring yet?”

  Translation: Kim, there’s still hope!

  No one could confuse the little band of five square-cut emeralds I wore on my middle finger with an engagement ring. Could she have been more obvious?

  We had just finished dinner when my phone rang. Ben had shot me a look that could have fried an egg. “I thought we agreed no phones tonight,” he’d hissed. Under his disapproving glare, I excused myself to take the phone call.

  “Holly, honey? Is that you?”

  I hadn’t recognized the voice.

  “It’s Rose, sweetheart. I think you ought to come to Wagtail as soon as you can.”

  Rose had been my grandmother’s best friend for as long as I had been alive, maybe longer. “What’s wrong? Is it Oma?”

  “Now don’t be alarmed. But you best come right away.”

  Two

  I hung up, feeling lower than I’d thought humanly possible. My grandmother, whom I called Oma, German for grandma, was the Miller matriarch. Our family had scattered to the four corners of the earth. Geographically, I lived the closest. Even so, Wagtail Mountain was a good six-hour drive southwest of Washington, D.C.

  Jacqui pointed out that the vineyard lay two hours south of Washington and if I went home to pack, I would lose four hours just in driving time.

  There’d been no mistaking Ben’s discomfort, though whether it stemmed from Jacqui’s offer for him to stay overnight or the thought of leaving the vineyard at that moment wasn’t quite clear to me. The coveted invitation to the vineyard for dinner with other partners was a feather in his cap and a major step in his quest to make senior partner at his law firm. But in my mind, Oma came first. Ben would make partner whether I left or not.

  Jacqui pressured Ben into staying the night, promising Kim would drive him back to D.C. the next day. That way, I could take his car to Wagtail without wasting time by going home first.

  “Don’t tell Mortie, though,” she’d said. “We have a horrid little fishing cabin on Wagtail Mountain. It’s his favorite place in the world. I loathe it. I can’t imagine why your grandmother would want to live in Wagtail. There’s just nothing to do. There’s not even a decent shopping mall! And, quite honestly, the only ducks I want to see are the ones on a platter in a Chinese restaurant.”

  Mortie, on the other hand, had viewed me with new interest. “Why didn’t you say you were from Wagtail? Miller?” He peered at me. “Is Liesel your grandmother? You look a lot like her.”

  When I said yes, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders as though I was suddenly part of their crowd.

  “I had no idea you were a Miller from Wagtail! You must see to Liesel right away. Ben! We should take a few days and drive up together.”

  Although I resented the cozy situation with Kim, I would never forgive myself if Oma was ill and needed me and I didn’t go. I had left immediately, but not without noting Jacqui’s wholehearted encouragement to depart. “We’ll take care of Ben,” she’d promised.

  I just bet they would.

  Given the situation, I didn’t have much choice. Besides, Ben and I had been dating for more than a year. One of the nice things about nerdy guys was that they could be trusted. Not that Ben was without charm. The dimples on either side of his mouth fairly melted me whenever he smiled. He wore his hair short on the sides and just a touch longer on top. It reminded me of the color of coffee beans, a rich dark brown that didn’t quite make it to black. The frames of his glasses were the same color on top but faded to nothing at the bottom.

  I grinned at the thought of his discomfort at having to stay overnight at the vineyard. Ben was a city guy more comfortable in a library than among trees. How many times had I tried to talk him into a long weekend at Wagtail? The dimples always appeared. He would gaze at me briefly, shake his head, and go back to whatever history book he was reading. Nerdy guys weren’t usually the most exciting fellows in the room, but they were as smart and trustworthy as Boy Scouts. If Ben and I didn’t trust each other, we had nothing.

  Panic welled up inside me as my thoughts shifted to Oma. Why hadn’t I been to Wagtail in five years? I could have gone without Ben. Had I really been that busy? Too busy for the grandmother who meant the world to me? Ben and I had seen her on vacation in Florida with my dad and his wife only a few months ago. Her eyes had sparkled when she told me she had a surprise for me. I’d pressed her for a hint but she had reveled in her little secret. Dad cringed with embarrassment when Oma said something about us meeting her handsome young Scandinavian stud.

  It never occurred to me that she might be ill. It would be just like her to be sick, or even dying, and not tell anyone.

  The dog startled me by jumping forward into the passenger seat. She eyed me warily.

  “We’re on o
ur way to the Sugar Maple Inn.” I explained. “Here’s the deal. They don’t allow dogs, undoubtedly because you make messes.”

  She listened, but didn’t seem particularly ashamed of herself for what she’d done to Ben’s car.

  “Oma had a German Shepherd when I was a kid and spent my summers at the inn. She used to go everywhere with me. The summer my parents divorced, I told her all my secrets and troubles. Staying with Oma during school vacations was always the highlight of my year.”

  I peered at the dog. “Are you housebroken?”

  I had a feeling I would find out soon. “I can try to talk Oma into adopting you, but don’t get your hopes up. I don’t even know if Oma is well enough to care for a dog.”

  She curled into a little ball for the final hour of the trip, but every time I looked over at her, she jumped into a sitting position as though prepared to flee to the backseat. “I won’t toss you out into the cold night, sweetie. I promise.”

  Thanks to the drizzle and heavy fog, the last leg of the drive, winding up Wagtail Mountain, was treacherous at best. I flicked my lights between the high beam and the low beam, but nothing cut through the white soup more than a few yards. My eyelids were growing heavy in spite of the coffee. I rolled down the window in hopes that the cool night air might refresh me, gripped the steering wheel tighter, and leaned forward in the vain notion that it might help me see better.

  The dog sat up and barked at a pitch that sliced through my daze like a knife through butter. She barked wildly, pausing only to paw at my arm.

  “Why are you barking? Hush! Someone needs to learn about using an indoor voice.”

  She persisted, and I had to hold her back with my right arm, not at all what I wanted to do on the winding mountain road.

  I glanced over at her for a split second, wondering how to make her stop barking, and when I looked back at the road, a man stood in the middle of it.

  Three

  My scream nearly drowned out the dog’s high-pitched barks.

  I hit the brakes. The car swerved.

  I feared we would careen off the mountain. Jerking the steering wheel, I prayed there wasn’t any oncoming traffic. We screeched to a halt on the wrong side of the road.

  I threw open the door and jumped out, leaving the engine running, the door open, and the lights on so I could see. My heart hammered in my chest as I dashed to the back of the car, fearing the worst. I didn’t think I had hit him. At least I hadn’t felt a bump or a jolt.

  “Are you okay? Hello? Hello?”

  But no one was there. Raindrops pattered on leaves, and the engine still purred, but an ominous stillness made me painfully aware of being alone. A shiver shuttled through me, and it wasn’t because of the cold wet night. Something wasn’t right about this. I backed to the side of the car and bent over to look, heaven forbid, underneath it.

  In the dark of night, I couldn’t see well, but I didn’t make out any odd shapes.

  Renewed barking alarmed me, and I jerked upright. The dog had run out of my range of sight.

  I swallowed hard. I’d read about pranks like this. People pretended to be in distress, then attacked the driver or stole the car.

  “Here, doggie! Come on girl!”

  She continued barking. Very briefly, I weighed my options. I could find her and put her back in the car, or I could take off. Who was I kidding? Leaving her there wasn’t an option.

  As relieved as I was that I hadn’t hit the man, I hated that I didn’t know where he went. He could jump out of the pea soup any second. I whistled for the dog, longing to leap into the safety of the car and lock the doors, but I couldn’t bear to strand her there.

  Thank goodness she ran back to me. She stood in the glow of the headlights, barking incessantly.

  “Come on, sweetie.”

  Did she know any commands? “Come!”

  I tried not to convey my nervousness to her. With a furtive glance around, I edged toward her, ready to bend and snatch her up.

  But the little devil backed up, ever so slowly, until we were in the shroud of dark mist. I could barely make her out. At the edge of the road, she turned and barked like crazy. Even though I couldn’t see the vista, I knew she was yelping out over the valley. There, on the murky roadside, she allowed me to pick her up. She didn’t even squirm.

  The man had to be around somewhere. Had he gone over the side? Shivers engulfed me again as I considered how vulnerable we were.

  An explosion shattered through the air not too far beneath us. I screamed and staggered backward. Flames roared upward, cutting through the drizzle. Waves of heat pummeled us. I ducked and jerked away, holding the little dog tighter. She pressed against me, her body rigid with tension.

  Flames licked skyward. The blaze lit the night. It was bigger than anything I’d ever seen.

  Clutching the dog to me, I ran for the car, slid in, checked the backseat to be sure no one was hiding, and locked the doors. The dog hopped into the passenger seat and watched me. My fingers trembled as I dialed 911.

  “Hello?” The woman’s voice was sleepy.

  Had I misdialed? “I’m sorry. I’m trying to call the police.”

  “Yeah, you got ’em. What’s up?”

  What kind of police dispatcher spoke like that? “Something just exploded off the side of Wagtail Mountain. It’s burning.”

  “Uh-huh.” She sounded bored. “Where are you exactly?”

  I hadn’t paid any attention to mile markers. In the mist it wasn’t as though I could make out landmarks, either. “I’m just guessing. Maybe two or three miles outside of town?”

  “Near Forrest Road?”

  Didn’t ring any bells. “I can’t see much in the fog.” I drew on childhood memories. “Maybe a little down mountain from Buzzard’s Roost.”

  A long silence followed. “Who is this?”

  For pity’s sake. “Don’t you have caller ID?”

  “There’s no need to be snippy. You’re calling from a cell phone, dufus. All it says is Virginia.”

  “Sorry. It’s Holly Miller, Liesel’s granddaughter.”

  Another silence.

  “Hello? Are you still there?” I asked.

  “I’ll let him know.” She hung up.

  The haze near the edge of the road glowed a faint yellow. In early September, the trees hadn’t turned color yet. I hoped that meant they would be strong against a spreading fire. The rain would surely help, too.

  The dog raised her paw and stroked the air in my direction. I reached over and ran my hand down her back. In addition to being wet, her fur felt coarse and unpleasant to the touch.

  I decided it would be prudent to move the car to the correct lane. On the steep mountain, there probably wasn’t a good spot to pull over. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the mysterious man I’d seen for a second, I would have thought it safer to wait outside of the car in case someone came along too fast and plowed into it.

  I eased the car up mountain, far enough away from the blaze that it wouldn’t be in danger. The emergency lights flashing, I parked and waited with the engine running, wishing I didn’t feel so helpless. There wasn’t anything I could do to control the flames or prevent them from spreading into a wildfire.

  A scant ten minutes later, the glow of headlights broke through the night on the opposite side of the road. I breathed easier when I saw the police emblem on the door.

  It stopped next to me and the window rolled down. A dark-haired man with a long oval face peered at me. “Did you call about an explosion?”

  He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth when a second blast shook us so hard I felt the tremor in the car.

  He leaped out of his vehicle and ran to the edge of the road. I shut the dog in Ben’s car in case she got ideas about running down to the fire. I ran along the edge of the road to the police officer.

  He pulled out a radio and spoke into it. When he hung up, he said, “The firefighters are on their way. Did you see a car go over the edge?”

&nb
sp; “No. I saw a man in the road. I hit the brakes because he appeared out of nowhere, and I thought I was going to hit him, but he disappeared.”

  He frowned at me. “Show me where this happened.”

  I gestured to the road. “Right about there. Shouldn’t there be skid marks?”

  “Not with the roads this wet. What did he look like?” He flicked a strong beam up and down the road.

  “I only saw him for a second. He was wearing a jacket or hoodie—something with a hood. Navy blue or black, maybe.”

  “Mustache?”

  “I don’t think so, but I couldn’t swear.”

  “Could it have been a woman?”

  That was an odd question. “I guess. It was a split second, and then he was gone.”

  “You sure you didn’t hit him?”

  It was fairly obvious that he wasn’t lying in the road. Did he think I’d pitched him over the edge? “I honestly didn’t feel a bump or any impact.” I waved at the pavement. “He’s not here. He must have been able to leave.”

  “It’s pretty late. You been drinking?”

  “No!” My voice sounded high and testy. “Don’t you believe me? I’ll take a sobriety test. I’m tired but I haven’t had a drink.”

  “You’re lucky I know you, Holly Miller.” His stern expression softened a little bit. “Do you remember me? Dave Quinlan?”

  “Dave! You were headed for the navy the last I heard.”

  He stood a little straighter. “Seems a long time ago now.”

  A Jeep pulled up behind Dave’s police car. The glimmer of headlights grew as a fire truck arrived and several more cars lined up on the road.

  “Excuse me,” Dave said. “That’ll be the volunteer firefighters.”

  He spoke with the driver in the lead car. In less than a minute, six firefighters peered over the edge of the mountain at the blaze. Two of them scrambled down the mountainside to assess the situation.

  Dave’s radio crackled. He didn’t seem to have trouble understanding it. All I could make out was “car.”