“Your first murder investigation, I guess?”
“I hope these two are my last.” He yawned again.
“Maybe you should head on home and get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
The thought of my comfy bed upstairs lured me, and I hadn’t been under the stress of solving two murders.
We said good night, and he departed through the front door. To my right, guests still lounged and chatted in the sitting room. Even though I was exhausted, I churned up the two flights of stairs in the hope that Twinkletoes would notice and come with me.
She didn’t.
I unlocked my room, thinking sadly of the dog I had lost. I might never see her again. Was she cold? Afraid? Was she huddling next to another gas station, hoping someone would come along with food? Had—I could hardly bear to think it—had someone shot her?
Voices murmured inside my suite. “Hello? Is someone here?”
Canned laughter cued me in. A TV was on in the sitting room. Twinkletoes lounged comfortably in the middle of a comfy chair watching TV, her odd toy next to her.
“How did you get in here?” I asked. How did you turn on the TV? I gazed around for the remote control. It lay on the coffee table. She must have jumped up and landed on it.
I changed into the Sugar Maple Inn T-shirt, which fell to mid-thigh, and located a pen and a pad of paper. Taking a cue from Twinkletoes, I settled in the other chair. I jotted down the names of the people of Wagtail and their connections to each other. Although I studied it with weary eyes, I couldn’t see a connection. I was an outsider, who didn’t know the currents that existed beneath the obvious.
Pondering the locals and their motives, I headed for bed. The covers had been turned back, and a chocolate rested on the pillow. Twinkletoes must have slipped in when the bed was turned down.
I picked up the chocolate and discovered that it wasn’t chocolate at all. It was a cookie that could be shared with a dog. I set it on the nightstand. Maybe if my dog came back . . . “Did you snarf a kitty treat that was left on the pillow?”
Green-gold eyes observed me, round and innocent. But then she licked the corner of her mouth, which told the whole story.
I slid under the comforter. Twinkletoes walked around me a few times, jumping over my legs as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She finally settled about a foot from my head, and I fell asleep to the soothing sound of purring.
• • •
At six-thirty in the morning, I woke to the phone ringing. A man’s voice apologized for calling so early. “This is Eric Dombrowski, the pharmacist. I think I saw your dog this morning on my way to work.”
I sat bolt upright. “Was she okay? Where was she?”
“Out near the zip line. She was carrying a dead animal in her mouth.”
Eww. Poor baby. “Thanks, Eric. I’ll get right out there.”
I hung up and jumped out of bed. I swapped my T-shirt for a fresh cotton top and pulled on jeans. Moving as fast as possible, I jammed my feet into the sandals, grabbed my purse, and glanced to be sure Twinkletoes had dry food in her bowl. She did. My haste must have irritated her. She strolled into the kitchen and stretched. This time, we hurried down the grand staircase together.
Casey still manned the reception area.
I scooted behind the desk to grab a collar and a leash. Helping myself to a handful of dog treats, I asked, “Where’s the zip line?”
He pulled a little map of Wagtail from under the desk and drew a circle on it. “That’s where Eric saw your dog? Why don’t you take one of the inn’s golf carts? That will be faster.”
“Thanks!”
He rushed outside with me and pointed to a cute red cart. “I like that one.”
He showed me how to operate it.
“It’s so quiet. I can barely hear the engine.”
Casey grinned. “Cool, huh? They’re electric. One of these days I’m gonna sneak up on some of my friends and spook them.”
I consulted the map and tore down the road at a whopping ten miles per hour. Minutes later I spotted Bird Dog Zip Adventures.
They were closed up tight.
I cruised by slowly, on the lookout for a flash of white. If the pharmacist had seen her on his way to work, it must have been from the street. I turned around, puttered back, and parked.
I whistled and called out words I hoped she might know, like cookie and treat. Birds twittered in the trees.
Although I knew I was technically trespassing, I climbed over the gate at the ticket booth and trotted up the stairs to the launching area, panting by the time I reached the top.
The morning sun kissed the treetops, and the view down the mountain was nothing short of amazing. A light smattering of yellows and oranges heralded the coming of autumn. In spite of the peaceful quiet and stunning views, my heart sank. A dog, even a white one, would be lost under the canopy of the trees.
And then, like a miracle, she appeared below me, in a trail beneath the zip line. She carried something in her mouth.
“Cookie! Cookie!” I called, hoping she remembered what that meant.
A gunshot rang out. I heard myself scream, “No!”
Nineteen
Like an apparition, my dog vanished.
I shouted, “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! Cookie! Cookie!” As I scrambled down the tower praying she hadn’t been hit, I yelled the words over and over.
At the bottom, I bounded down the slope to the spot where I’d seen her.
Crouching, I spoke softly, hoping she would be brave enough to come to me.
A couple of yards away, the base of a large green fern wavered. I held my breath. Was she inching toward me?
“She’s gone.”
I looked up. A tall man with a weather-beaten face gazed at me. Wrinkles etched deep into his bronzed skin. Round glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.
I rose to my feet and staggered back a step. “What do you mean gone?” Not dead. She couldn’t be! I didn’t see her anywhere.
“I assume she’s your dog, or you wouldn’t be tromping around and shouting like a bonehead so early in the morning. You should know she can run like the wind.” He smiled and gazed away as though remembering it. “I don’t think her feet touch the ground. I never saw a dog move like that.”
“Are you the one doing the shooting?”
He raised his hand to show me that he carried a gnarled walking stick. “I don’t kill God’s creatures.” His eyebrow twitched up. “Not anymore.”
“Is hunting allowed here? So close to the zip line?”
“No. It’s not. Somebody has been tracking her. I don’t know what she did, but you better find her and take her home before she’s shot.”
I gazed around. “Tracking her? Like hunting her? Why would anyone do that?” The blood in my temples pounded. “Do you know which direction—” he had disappeared as fast as she had “—she went?”
No wonder everybody around here believed in ghosts. What was wrong with people? Shooting dogs and disappearing in the woods? What was that old guy doing out here anyway?
I scanned the base of the trees again. If she ran from the sound of gunfire, she was probably headed back toward town. With that thought in mind, I began the ascent to the tower.
And stopped within two feet. It had been simple enough to clamber down. Viewed from the other direction, the mountain posed a vertical challenge that might as well have been Kilimanjaro. I found myself leaning forward and climbing. Bracing myself with my hands, occasionally grasping briars, tree limbs, and even weeds for support.
At the top, I had to stop to catch my breath. I might not be superstitious like my grandmother, but this day wasn’t starting well at all.
Relieved to be back in the golf cart, I dusted off my jeans. My hands bled from grabbing rough plants. I puttered slowly in the direction of Wagtail’s pedestrian zone, watching the underbelly of the dense forest for any sign of the dog.
Would she return to the heart of Wagtail? I turned left into t
he residential area of Wagtail on the lookout for her as the town came to life. Bird feeders were being filled. An occasional whiff of coffee brewing or frying bacon floated my way. Bathrobe-clad residents stepped out to collect their newspapers from their stoops. Dogs were being walked everywhere I looked.
I recognized the Great Dane, Dolce, and Jerry’s basset hound, Chief, sitting together on the porch of Ellie’s house. Her curtains remained drawn, though. Unlike other homes, the dogs were the only sign of normalcy.
At the end of the street, where it joined the shopping area, I turned the golf cart around, and finally understood why Dave thought Sven’s death couldn’t have been an accident.
There really wasn’t a good reason to drive down this road unless you had business there. I stopped the cart and surveyed my surroundings. To my left, a large white Italianate home with fancy windows and an ornate cupola dominated the street. An equally ornate sign in the front yard identified it as the 1864 Inn. I fumbled in my purse for the business card Philip had given me the night before. Indeed, the 1864 Inn was one of his bed-and-breakfasts. Considerably smaller, a beige cape cod next door bore a plaque with the name Cheshire Cottage. Light-blue shutters and dormer windows on the second floor added to the cozy appearance.
On the opposite side of the street, I recognized Rose’s house. It hadn’t changed much. Colorful blooms spilled over a white picket fence. I had played in the rose-covered archway with seats on either side at the gate. Worn slate shingles on the steep roof of the two-story house reminded me of quaint homes in English villages.
Anyone who lived on this end of the street could have parked and waited for Sven without being noticed. I rubbed my forehead. Who would do such a thing? Certainly not Rose! Never!
I barely knew Philip, but it seemed like someone that tidy would have chosen a different method if he intended to murder someone. Hitting a person with a car was bound to be a messy proposition.
Besides, wouldn’t it make sense to murder someone as far away from your own home as possible? More likely it had been someone from the other side of town. Or an outsider.
Ellie’s house, up the street, was hardly visible because of the angle. Old-fashioned streetlights added to Wagtail’s charm, but in the thick fog, I doubted that they had cast a broad beam. Whoever sat here, exactly where I was now, had expected Sven and gunned the car at him when he stepped into the street. Even easier to do in a hybrid SUV with almost no engine noise. In the dark, with the lights off, he wouldn’t have seen it advance on him.
Oma had already deduced that the killer had called the inn about Dolce running loose. He knew that would bring Sven to the street.
Or would it? Dolce wasn’t Sven’s dog. She belonged to Oma and Ellie. Shivers shuttled down my arms. Wouldn’t that phone call have been directed to Oma, as Dolce’s co-owner? Or had the person asked for Sven?
I had to talk to Oma right away and find out more about the phone call. My heart pounded at the thought that she might have been the intended victim.
I rubbed my face with both hands. Maybe I was wrong. I hoped my reasoning missed the mark. For all I knew, Sven might have made a pass at the wrong woman, and an irate boyfriend with a snootful had done him in.
But that didn’t prevent me from heading back to the inn as fast as the golf cart would take me. I pulled into the parking spot and ran into the reception area.
Zelda’s eyes widened when she saw me. “She’s here.”
The dog? Had she found her way back to the inn? “Where?”
“They’re all having breakfast.”
“Thanks.”
“Holly? Don’t hit her. Keep your cool.”
“Hit her? I would never do that.”
“Really? I’d be awfully tempted.”
I ran up the stairs with Zelda at my heels.
But when I reached the dining area, I stopped cold.
Twenty
Ben and Kim sat at a table with Oma. What were they doing here? The text. He’d come to propose in person! But why did he bring Kim?
Ben motioned me over to the table.
I scanned the floor. No sign of the dog. Turning to Zelda, I asked, “Where’s the dog? You said she was here.”
“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry. I meant,” she lowered her tone, “her.”
Kim. She’d meant Kim.
Ben rose to greet me. “You look like you’ve been crawling through the woods.” He grazed my cheek with a kiss, reached up, and tugged a twig out of my hair.
I had to admit that Kim couldn’t have looked more beautiful. Beaming, you might say. Had I been too quick to trust Ben with her?
I said good morning to everyone, painfully aware of my appearance. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll run upstairs and wash up.”
“Is that blood on your face?” asked Kim.
I’d forgotten about the blood on my hands. I must have touched my face. “Probably.”
Zelda fell in step with me as I hurried toward the main staircase. “I’m so sorry. But there’s someone better out there for you. I’m sure of it.”
I paused. “What are you talking about?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, honey, they’ve been . . . together.”
It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Nevertheless, I wasn’t sure I was ready to concede that anything had happened between them. “You read people’s minds, too?”
She fidgeted with a button on her blouse. “Not usually. But I’m sensitive enough to pick up on some things.”
She seemed so sad that I blurted, “They used to date.”
“Oh! I’m not usually that far off. Still, I’d watch out for her.”
I trudged up the stairs. Zelda had to be wrong. He would never have texted a proposal, awful as that was, if he had gotten involved with Kim again. When I reached my suite, the door stood open, a cleaning cart parked outside the doorway. I stepped around it, and a petite woman with a jet-black ponytail and intelligent dark eyes jerked upright from dusting the coffee table.
She held up a finger over her lips in a sign to be quiet and pointed toward the terrace.
I tiptoed over. Had she brought her baby to work?
And there, on a chaise longue, upside down, all four feet in the air, twitching as though she was running, was my dog. I didn’t care if I woke her. Laughing, I swept her up in my arms.
“Don’t ever do that again! Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
She licked the tip of my nose and proceeded to wash my chin. When I lowered her to the ground, she stood on her hind legs and placed her paws on my thighs. I bent over, and she buried her head into me, her tail wagging like crazy.
I pulled the inn collar out of my pocket and fastened it onto her. “No one takes this off except for me. Okay?”
The cleaning woman had left when we went inside.
The dog trotted alongside me to the bedroom and never let me out of her sight. Not even while I took the world’s quickest shower. She positioned herself outside the bathroom door, which I left open for her benefit. I blew my hair halfway dry, leaving it straight and simple.
My meager selection of clothes couldn’t match Kim’s designer outfit. I decided on the khaki trousers with a sleeveless white turtleneck. It wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but it was quintessential daytime attire for Wagtail.
Filled with joy at having my little friend back, I looped the leash under her collar, and the two of us went to breakfast.
Oma cried out and clapped her hands together when she saw the dog. “Where did you find her?”
As if she understood, the Jack Russell tugged me to Oma and reached up to her to be petted.
Kim fussed over her, too.
Even Shelley raced to us. “I’m so glad she’s back!” She bent to the dog. “You must be starved. How about a nice bracing bowl of oatmeal with chicken and apples?” Looking my way, she added, “Our special today is two eggs over easy, with home fries, buttered toast, and bacon. We also serve a dog version of that.�
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The dog would probably be happy with anything. “We’ll both have that. And a pot of tea for me, please.”
Ben seemed surprised. “That’s a hearty breakfast.”
“You weren’t out climbing a mountain this morning.” Maybe that was too defensive. “I can’t believe you drove all the way up here!” It blew me away. Ben didn’t even miss work if he had a cold, but he’d taken time off to be with me. That meant a lot. Zelda had to be wrong.
“Daddy insisted.” Kim nibbled at a blueberry muffin.
“There’s an issue with a car that belonged to Mortie,” explained Ben. “I need to speak to an Officer Dave Quinlan.”
“This is work?” So much for thinking he’d come because of me. On the other hand, maybe he’d used the car as an excuse to talk Mortie into sending him up here. “You must be beat after driving all night.”
“It wasn’t so bad. We arrived around midnight.” Kim chugged black coffee.
“Midnight?” Where had they slept?
Ben speared a piece of kiwi on his plate. “A fine young fellow named Casey put me in a room called Chew.”
“I thought he should come with me. I hate being in the cabin all alone.” Kim wrinkled her nose. “It’s not too far from here by golf cart, though.”
Shelley brought me a pot of water and English Breakfast tea bags.
I poured the steaming water into a mug, dunked a tea bag into it, and added milk and sugar. “I’ll call Dave to let him know that you’re here.”
“Your grandmother has been telling us about these horrible crimes. I don’t know if he’ll have much time for us with two murders on his hands.” Kim pushed a lock of expertly curled hair off her face.
I couldn’t help myself. I had to say it. “I think Dave will have time for you since it was your father’s car that killed Sven.”
Guilt swelled through me as soon as I spoke.
Kim turned green and sputtered coffee onto her plate. “It was stolen! He reported it stolen weeks ago.”
Ben turned to her and spoke with steely determination. “What did we talk about on the way up here? You don’t say anything to anyone about this.”
Murder, She Barked: A Paws & Claws Mystery (A Paws and Claws Mystery) Page 12