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

by Davis, Krista

  I didn’t know much about beagles, but she was pretty. A beautiful white blaze ran between her gentle eyes. I had a feeling this little beauty lived the good life.

  Mr. Wiggins thanked the clerk and told me to give Oma his best.

  The clerk chuckled as soon as he left. “Did you see that? He hates Peaches and Prissy so much he won’t even patronize their store.”

  “I thought he was married to Peaches.”

  She winked at me. “He is! I always give him a plain brown bag so they won’t know what he’s carrying if they see him.”

  “Won’t they know once they see what he bought?”

  She hooked the dog tag to Trixie’s new collar. “Word is that he kicked Peaches out of his mansion. She and Prissy are back at their old house here in town. About a year ago, he quit subsidizing their store, and Prissy had to get a part-time job over at the police department in Snowball. Heaven knows, no one around here would hire her.”

  “Their store isn’t doing well?”

  She snickered. “Let’s just say no one shops there twice. You got to be nice to people. I swear Prissy and Peaches think they can just stand around all dressed up with their fancy jewelry and beauty-salon manicures, and the store will run itself. We’ve been expecting to see a Going Out of Business sign any day. There you go!” She handed me the collar.

  I fastened the candy-corn collar around Trixie’s neck. “You’re mighty lucky Mr. Wiggins didn’t pick you off, Trixie. He’s a hunter.”

  “Aww, he’s an old softy. He’d never shoot a dog. How long will you be in town? I can have a leash embroidered with Trixie’s name for you by tomorrow.”

  “Given all the leashes around, that might not be a bad idea.”

  She bagged the other collars in a cute red and brown tote bag bearing the store’s name, Puppy Love.

  No sooner had I thanked her than I heard, “There you are! I’ve been all over looking for you.”

  I knew Holmes’s sultry voice, masculine yet warm and friendly.

  “You have?” We walked out the door together. “What’s up?”

  “I met Ben. He’s kind of a nervous guy. Um, did you know he’s looking for some girl named Kim?”

  “So I’ve heard.” I gazed into his concerned eyes. Did I detect a hint of amusement? “Something’s up, Holmes. I can’t quite figure it out, but it all ties in with Sven’s death.”

  “How about I buy you a cup of coffee, and you tell me about it? Maybe I can help.”

  “I’d love that, but I should get back to Oma to keep an eye on her.”

  He tilted his head. “Since when does she need watching? Besides, I just left Grandma Rose there. I got the feeling they wanted me to leave so they could speak privately. How about an ice cream cone? We can find a bench with a good view of the inn.”

  I agreed, and Holmes led the way to Moo La La, a tiny corner place with only a takeout window. A black and white cow with long lashes held a chalkboard out front showing off the store’s latte and ice cream specialties.

  Armed with salted caramel-chocolate cones, we settled at a bench on the plaza outside the inn. I was nervous about not checking on Oma first, but I soon spotted her on the porch with Rose. Their heads bent toward each other, they appeared to be deep in a discussion.

  I elbowed Holmes. “Check it out. Wonder what they’re up to now?”

  “I’m afraid to imagine. On the other hand, I hope we’re as spunky when we’re their age. So what’s going on?”

  Trixie jumped up on the bench between us and snuggled under my arm.

  “What has Rose told you about the night Sven died?”

  “Rose and my parents keep telling me to be careful what I say. That this isn’t Chicago. The tiniest rumor can swell into a big problem if I’m not careful.”

  “Surely you’re not really a suspect?”

  “Surely, I am—in Jerry’s death.” He licked his ice cream. “Someone says he saw me running away from Jerry’s house that morning.” He grinned. “And you know what? That’s absolutely true.”

  Twenty-eight

  “I went out for a run,” said Holmes, “and jogged by Jerry’s place so I’d know where I had to go to meet with him later on. Technically, I was there, and I was running.”

  I licked my creamy ice cream to buy some time. Holmes had motivation because of that land deal and could be placed at the scene of the crime. No wonder Dave still considered him a suspect. Had Holmes wanted me to walk over to Jerry’s with him so I would be present when he found the body? When I had run into him after buying clothes and walked with him to Jerry’s, it seemed like a coincidence.

  Wait, what was I thinking? This was Holmes! He would never kill anyone. It wasn’t possible.

  I debated how much to tell Holmes. I had to trust someone. Oma had been her usual stubborn self. Ben had been appropriately appalled, but something fishy was going on with Kim. And he didn’t know Wagtail and its residents like Holmes did.

  I took a deep breath and told Holmes my theory about Sven being the wrong victim.

  “Aw, man! I hate to think that anyone would want to murder Oma, but it makes so much sense. I knew Sven. He was popular, well liked by everyone. A guy’s guy.” He flicked a horrified gaze toward me. “Not that I’m saying Oma isn’t wonderful. She’s like a grandmother to me.”

  “Someone is out to get her, but I can’t talk her into leaving town. She thinks we can help Dave catch Sven’s killer. Meanwhile, everybody’s treating Dave like a nosy little boy, instead of a cop. You know the people around here better than I do.” I gulped hard before I asked, “Who would want Oma dead?”

  Holmes ran a hand through his hair.

  “What about the Clodfelters?” I asked. “Peaches and Oma have never gotten along.”

  “I don’t really see Peaches hitting someone with a car. But Prissy might. She’s totally unpredictable.”

  “Didn’t you take her out once?”

  He pretended to be annoyed. “You do a nice thing for a person once in your life and no one lets you forget it. She was taller than all the boys her age, and no one asked her to the dance. You remember when she was all gangly limbs like an awkward colt.”

  “I didn’t recognize her when I saw her again. Who would have imagined she would turn into such a knockout? I hear Dave is chasing her. Think he’ll consider her a suspect?”

  “Doubtful. Where’s the motivation?”

  “Apparently Peaches made a huge scene at the inn when Mr. Wiggins was having lunch with Oma. Think there’s something going on between them?”

  “Not that I’ve ever heard of. He tossed Peaches and Prissy out of the mansion, but I think they’d be inclined to kill Clementine for that, not Oma. Unless . . .”

  I scootched around to face him better. “Unless what?”

  “Unless Peaches is already working on her next conquest. Everyone knows Thomas, from The Blue Boar, is sweet on our Oma. But maybe Peaches is eyeing him and wants Oma out of the way?”

  Seemed kind of flimsy to me. “Who else?”

  He snorted. “Jerry. Kind of ironic, eh?”

  “I thought about him, too. In fact, I wondered if he was murdered because he tried to kill Oma.”

  Holmes pulled back and scrutinized me. “Why Holly Miller! I never realized that you were so sly.”

  “You would be, too, if . . .” I smacked my forehead and gasped so loud that Trixie barked. “How could I be so dense? It was right there in front of me the whole time.” I leaned over and whispered, “Mr. Luciano.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “One of the guests. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but the night I arrived, he came in after I did. He was a mess and claimed that someone had beaten him up.”

  Holmes’s forehead crinkled. “I’m not seeing the connection.”

  “Don’t you get it? Nobody attacked him. That was a line he made up—because he’s the one who pushed the car over the cliff! He probably fell in the process. Maybe it’s harder than we’d think to sho
ve a car over the side of a mountain.”

  My pulse quickened as my thoughts became clear. “And the next morning, I saw him running right along there.” I pointed at the east side of the walking zone. “He could have been on his way to Jerry’s, to lie in wait for him.”

  “Motive?” asked Holmes.

  Air fizzled out of me. My brilliant idea deflated like a balloon. “Kind of falls apart right there. I don’t know. I wonder what he’s doing here. Oma met with him in her office earlier today.”

  “Maybe he wants to buy the inn.”

  Few things could have sent as big a shudder through me. “No! Do you think so?”

  “You okay? You’re pale.”

  “I never thought about Oma selling the inn. That would be like losing a family member. It would . . .”

  “Oh, Holly! Don’t cry.”

  I blinked back the moisture in my eyes. “I’m not crying. It just never occurred to me that the inn would be out of the family.”

  “You could still come back and visit.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same, and you know it. They would change things.”

  “You’ll get used to the idea.”

  “Do you know something? Tell me!”

  “I don’t know beans. But Oma isn’t getting any younger. Most people her age have retired and are cruising with drinks in hand instead of waiting on people.”

  I slumped back against the bench. “Now I’m depressed.”

  “You have to be kidding me. What did you think would happen? You know your dad and his sister aren’t interested in the inn. They fled Wagtail as soon as they could. And Josh, I don’t know about him. If he was ever going to quit globe-trotting and settle down, you’d think he would have done it already.”

  I nodded. My cousin, Josh, had itchy feet. I couldn’t imagine him taking over the inn.

  Holmes shot a sideways glance at me. “You don’t have a job.”

  “I’m a fund-raiser. My life is in Washington. Ben is there, my house, my friends.” Trixie whined softly and licked my chin. “Don’t worry, you’ll go with me. I can’t just uproot myself.”

  “Oma’s right.” He grinned at me. “You’re dry as toast.”

  “Am not. You just called me sly.”

  “That just proves there’s hope for you.”

  “I don’t see you moving back to Wagtail, Mister I-have-to-visit-every-other-weekend-but-I-live-in-Chicago.”

  “Touché.” Holmes gazed at the inn. “I’d try to finagle a way to buy it in a heartbeat. But it’s a big place, Holly. With the inn and the grounds and the new additions, we’re talking megabucks. It’s not like Joe Schmoe can come along and buy it. Besides, my fiancé would never agree to live here.” His sigh reflected my feelings.

  I knew what he meant. We had other obligations. We had built lives where we lived. I tried to push the ugly thoughts about losing the inn away. “Back to where we were, do you think Luciano would have tried to kill her so he could buy the inn?”

  “Let’s walk through this. He steals the car—”

  “The car was stolen weeks ago.”

  “Okay. So he stole the car and hid it somewhere. Then he parked it on Oak Street?”

  “Right. He opened the gate to let Dolce out, walked over to Hair of the Dog, called the inn and reported that Dolce was loose, then returned to the car, and wham—he hit Sven instead of Oma.”

  “Then why did he kill Jerry?” asked Holmes.

  “I don’t know. In fact, nobody seems to know where Jerry was that night.”

  “Are you suggesting that Jerry murdered Sven and Luciano killed Jerry?”

  I grabbed his arm. “Maybe! Luciano couldn’t have made the phone call. Chloe said she was busy giving him directions when the call came in.” I handed Trixie the empty butt of my ice cream cone. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. You ask around town to see what you can find out, especially where Jerry went that night. In the meantime, I’ll find out what I can about Luciano.”

  “Deal. Uh-oh. Here comes trouble.”

  Ben ambled toward us. “I can’t find her. Not anywhere. Wagtail isn’t that big! What am I going to tell Kim’s father?”

  “You’re looking for a little girl?” Holmes sat up in alarm. “I thought we were talking about an adult!”

  “Relax, Holmes. Kim is an adult. And she intentionally ditched Ben.”

  And just like that, she reappeared, carrying a shopping bag from Prissy Clodfelter’s store.

  “Where have you been?” demanded Ben. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

  “Don’t be put out, schnookums.” Kim held her head down and raised her eyes in a manner calculated to be flirtatious.

  That raised Holmes’s eyebrows.

  “They used to date,” I explained.

  “I just stopped to do a little shopping.” She leaned over to Trixie. “Look what I bought you!” Kim reached into the bag and withdrew a cat-shaped cookie.

  Trixie almost lost her balance in her eagerness to reach it. Her tail wagged, and she extended her neck as far as she dared trying to reach the bag. Her little black nose twitched. There must have been more in the bag.

  “Thanks, Kim. I’m going to have to put her on a diet. People have been offering Trixie treats all day long.”

  “Trixie!” Kim crooked her neck. “That’s so cute. “Well, you’d better enjoy these treats, Trixie, because I’m not shopping there again. The woman in that store was so rude. Cute place with a terrific window display, but she was such a snoot.”

  Trixie wore an expectant expression and wiggled her behind. No doubt hoping for another treat.

  “Aww. I want a dog,” Kim whined.

  “Want that one?” asked Ben.

  I pulled Trixie closer. “Very funny.”

  “They don’t allow dogs in my building,” Ben reminded me.

  “I don’t live in your building.”

  “What are you going to do with her when you come over? Leave her in the car? Hey! Speaking of cars, where is mine?”

  “Parked in the inn lot.” I dreaded the moment he would see it. Might as well get it over with.

  “I’ll drive the golf cart back to the house and change for dinner,” chirped Kim.

  Ben seized her arm without looking at her. “Not so fast. You come with me. I’m checking out of the inn and sleeping at your cabin tonight.”

  Twenty-nine

  “I can’t trust you not to say or do something that might get you into trouble,” said Ben, scowling at Kim. “I’m not losing you for hours again. I could use a leash for you.”

  That was a fine excuse! Painfully aware that Holmes watched me, I tried to play it cool. “Do you need a chaperone?”

  Kim’s eyes flickered over Holmes, head to toe. “Depends on who it is.”

  “Down, Kim. He’s engaged.” I apologized for not introducing them.

  Kim swayed a little, cocked her head again in her obnoxiously provocative way, and made eye contact with Holmes. “Engagements were made to be broken.”

  Ben huffed.

  “Well, hurry up! I don’t want to miss all of Yappy Hour.” Kim glanced at her wrist as though she’d forgotten she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Let’s all have dinner together. Won’t that be fun?”

  I couldn’t think of many things that would be less fun.

  But Holmes was game. “In an hour and a half at Hair of the Dog?”

  Kim pouted. “Oh, not there.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t we go someplace more interesting? Let’s see, I feel like . . . barbecue!”

  “Hot Hog, then.” Holmes stood up and stretched. “I’ll meet you there.”

  • • •

  At nine o’clock that night, Holmes walked Trixie and me back to the inn. During dinner, Kim had flirted with everyone except me. She knew no bounds. Ben, Holmes, the waiter—everyone seemed to love her.

  “Not that it’s any of my business,” said Holmes, “but I don’t think I’d trust Kim alone with Ben.”

  “She’s quite an
operator. But I trust Ben. He’s too . . .” I stopped myself. I almost said he was too boring to have an affair! That was terrible on so many levels that it boggled my mind. “He’s too decent to have an affair.”

  We walked up the front steps, and Twinkletoes greeted us at the front door, mewing and twisting around our ankles. She even touched noses with Trixie.

  Holmes gazed at the guests milling around in the Dogwood Room. “Where do you suppose the dotty grandmothers are?”

  Twinkletoes scampered through a dog door in the wall just past the dining tables.

  The second I removed Trixie’s leash, she followed Twinkletoes.

  “Kitchen.” We said it simultaneously.

  I opened the door that bore the words Staff Only, and found that Oma’s private kitchen looked almost like I remembered it. Oma, Rose, and Gingersnap lounged comfortably before a blazing fire.

  “I’m so glad you left the kitchen intact!” I gushed. “I always loved this room.”

  In the glow of the fire, Oma seemed healthy and relaxed. “Me, too, liebchen. It has always been my private refuge.”

  Ancient beams ran across the ceiling. A fireplace with a raised hearth occupied a spot in a stone wall. The huge center island was still a blue that verged on farmhouse turquoise.

  Although it was dark outside, I knew the big windows over the kitchen sink on the far end of the kitchen overlooked the mountains and the lake. The door to the left led outside to a small herb garden and Oma’s private patio.

  But, sadly, the back staircase had been a victim of the remodeling. In the rear right corner, where the stairs should have been, a bookcase lined the wall.

  Holmes fetched two wine glasses. I poured Pomeranian Pomegranate wine into the glasses.

  “It’s research,” said Oma. “I wouldn’t want to offer our guests something I hadn’t tried first.”

  I perched on the hearth, warming up by the fire. Candles flickered gently. Oma had switched on only the lights under the rustic pine cabinets. Their cozy glow bathed the room in golden light.

  Holmes snagged another comfortable chair and relaxed, his long legs outstretched so that his shoes nearly touched mine.