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

by Davis, Krista

  Classical music that I couldn’t quite identify played very softly in the background. If I hadn’t known about Oma’s troubles, I would have thought it the most wonderfully warm and comforting moment. The way life should be. Good wine with good friends and beloved family. Twinkletoes kneaded in my lap while Trixie looked on. She fixated on my eyes, sending a very clear message—That should be me on your lap!

  I reached out to stroke her fur. Apparently, that wasn’t enough. She curled up next to me, pushing against my thigh as tightly as she could.

  Oma didn’t make eye contact with me when she said, “I heard the Ben checked out. Did he go home?”

  Holmes snorted. “Sorry, Holly. You’re being too calm about this.” He faced our grandmothers. “Ben is staying with Kim at her dad’s cabin.”

  A smile twitched on Oma’s lips. Why did I get the feeling that she and Rose would high-five if I wasn’t present?

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” I assured them. “Ben is a very responsible person. I’m sure that’s why Kim’s father insisted he accompany her. She pulled a fast one on Ben earlier today and disappeared for hours. She claimed she was shopping, but all she carried was one bag with dog treats in it. A flimsy attempt to back up her shopping story if you ask me.”

  “I hope you’re right about Ben’s character, because Kim is definitely a vamp,” said Holmes.

  Rose frowned at Holmes. “Does that still mean what it used to mean?”

  “Sure does. Ben is probably fighting her off as we speak.”

  I had to come to Ben’s defense. I might have been let down by his totally unromantic proposal, but poor Ben was a good guy. “I hardly think he would have proposed to me if he planned to fall into Kim’s arms.”

  Oma bit her lip.

  Rose snickered. “Are you talking about that e-mail he sent you? Honey,” she shook her head sadly, “you marry him, and I swear I will be the one who jumps up and makes a fuss when the preacher asks if anyone objects to the marriage.”

  “That’s because you don’t know him. He’s a nice man.”

  Trixie took that inopportune moment to yawn and let out a complaining wail.

  Fortunately, we all laughed, and the subject changed to getting Trixie a vet appointment. In the chaos, I’d forgotten all about that.

  “So Oma,” I said, “what’s the deal with Peaches and Prissy Clodfelter? Why do they despise us so?”

  Rose spewed wine. She sat up straight and dabbed at her blouse. “I hope this doesn’t stain. Liesel! You never told Holly?”

  “Told me what?”

  My grandmother sucked in a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling. “I suppose you’re old enough to know now. Peaches is what my generation called a gold digger.”

  Rose chuckled. “She’s a devil in a skirt.”

  “She wanted to marry your father.”

  “My father?” I shuddered at the thought. “When was this?”

  “About the time your parents decided to divorce. Peaches came around claiming your father had gotten her pregnant.”

  “With Prissy?” My hair stood on end. “Please tell me Prissy isn’t my sister!”

  “Have you seen the size of that girl?” Oma asked. “There’s never been a Miller that tall. No, Prissy’s father was someone else, but Peaches thought she could con your dad into marriage.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Holmes. “I’m the tallest in my family. It happens.”

  Rose leaned toward Holmes and me. “The reason Peaches hates Liesel so much is because Liesel had the baby tested.”

  “Oma!” I exclaimed.

  “I am many things. But I am not a fool. I was not going to allow that woman to destroy your father. If the baby had been his, that would have been one thing. But I knew it wasn’t.”

  My head reeled from the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “It is no longer important,” said Oma. “Old stuff that no one cares about anymore.”

  “Peaches still cares about it,” I said.

  “If she resents me, then it is her problem. She is the one who lied. I did what I had to do and have no regrets about it.”

  An hour later, Holmes walked Rose home, and Oma trundled off to bed with Gingersnap. I pretended to go up to my quarters, but I simply left my purse on the coffee table and promptly returned to the second floor. I located the housekeeping closet, where we kept the cleaning supplies and linens, and rummaged around. Trixie waited outside the door. I found two blankets and a pillow. That should do the trick.

  I tiptoed down the hallway to the balcony overlooking the reception area. Murmuring voices stopped, and I could hear footsteps on the stairs. Probably Oma! There wasn’t any place to hide.

  I hurried back to the housekeeping closet and called Trixie. The silly girl wouldn’t come. Would—not—come. Evidently, she had a fear of small spaces—the elevator, the bathroom, and now the housekeeping closet, which was the size of a walk-in closet. Glancing toward the staircase, I lunged at her, scooped her into my arms, smuggled the writhing dog inside, and closed the door.

  She fought me with all her strength. “Quit that! No one is going to hurt you.” Thank goodness she didn’t bark.

  I counted one Mississippi, two Mississippi until I thought Oma must have passed the point where she could see me.

  The hallway lay still when we emerged. I set Trixie down and grabbed my blankets and pillow. Trixie didn’t quite understand the stealthy nature of our operation, but I did my best to walk very quietly.

  My timing couldn’t have been better. I peeked around the corner just in time to see Gingersnap’s tail vanish inside Oma’s apartment. The lock clicked behind them.

  Perfect! I tiptoed to her door, spread out one of the blankets on the floor, and propped the pillow up against her door. If I fell asleep, I would surely wake if it opened for any reason.

  Twinkletoes showed up and demonstrated how she’d acquired her name. She walked along the banister of the balcony as unconcerned as if she were walking on the floor. I knew cats were supposed to right themselves when they fell, but it scared the wits out of me anyway. Moving slowly, so I wouldn’t alarm her, I approached her and gently gathered her into my arms, away from that dangerous railing.

  Beneath us, Casey worked at the desk. I could only assume that he hadn’t heard us yet. I hoped to keep it that way.

  I snuggled, as much as anyone could, on the hard floor. I had covered it with one blanket and thrown the other one over me. My trousers cut into my waist, and I wished I had taken the time to brush my teeth. I didn’t dare leave, though. I unfastened the top of my trousers and felt more comfortable. Trixie must have forgiven me for wresting her into the tiny housekeeping room because she curled up next to me, her body pressing against the blanket by my hips.

  Twinkletoes roamed the balcony. Sconces lighted the area where I lay. Through the ornate wrought iron of the railing, I could see the lights on the antler chandelier that hung in the reception area below.

  Easing back against the pillow, I closed my eyes but couldn’t help thinking about Ben and Holmes. Just between me and myself, I knew deep in my heart that if I thought I had even a remote chance with Holmes, I would drop Ben. The thought crushed me. I’d been so sure Ben was the one for me. In spite of Oma and Rose’s assessment, I knew he was a warm and caring man. Okay, given his two terrible proposals, I could scratch warm. The second one hadn’t really been a proposal of marriage at all. He was smart, even if Kim had managed to elude him today. He was genuine—that was important. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. He was serious. So he didn’t make me laugh much. What was more important? Laughter or taking life seriously?

  I squiggled down into a more comfortable position, landing on my cell phone. Probably not a good thing.

  The phone at the reception desk rang softly beneath me.

  I yanked my phone out from under the blanket and realized with horror that I’d managed to dial the inn when I sat on it. “Uh, sorry, Casey,”
I whispered. “My mistake.”

  I set the phone on the floor, on the other side of Trixie, where I couldn’t accidentally roll over on it in my sleep.

  I settled down and closed my eyes. The truth was that my love for Holmes was just a remnant of a schoolgirl infatuation. Honestly! What had happened to me? I came to the land of dogs and cats, where people spoke of ghosts like they were real, and I’d lost all good sense. Holmes wasn’t available, and even if I woke up tomorrow morning and discovered that he had broken off his engagement, he probably wasn’t the person I had manufactured in my mind as the perfect guy. So there. I had to get back to reality. Ben might be unimaginative, but he was a solid person.

  • • •

  I must have drifted off. The next thing I knew, Trixie barked. Like a periscope, Twinkletoes aimed her attention at the hallway. Trixie barked again. Scrambling to her feet, she kicked my phone over the balcony and took off running.

  “Shh!” I loped after her. “Trixie?” I hissed.

  Where could she have gone?

  The door to Heel opened, and Mr. Luciano stepped out. “What’s going on?”

  I had to stop, however briefly. “My apologies for the noise, Mr. Luciano.”

  He tightened the belt of his black satin bathrobe. “Do you need help? Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Thank you.” I said softly, hoping we weren’t waking everyone. “Everything is fine.”

  Almost, anyway. I took off running as quietly as possible along the hallway. At the main stairs, I listened. No barking. No pitter-patter of little paws. I ran up the stairs to my floor. No sign of Trixie.

  I trotted downstairs to the main floor and looked in Oma’s private kitchen. No dog. Breathing hard, half from fear and half from rushing around, I hurried through the library, the hallways of the cat wing, the sitting area, and back upstairs to my fancy quarters. My last hope was that she had returned to the balcony where we had slept. I stumbled down the stairs and back through the hallway on the second floor. No sign of Mr. Luciano this time. I held my breath as I rounded the corner. The blankets and pillow remained undisturbed.

  Gingersnap barked inside Oma’s apartment.

  “Shh, Gingersnap! Everything is okay.”

  I kept saying that to pacify everyone else. Meanwhile, my nerves had stretched to their limit. “Shh.”

  It didn’t help. Gingersnap barked like she’d seen a squirrel run through Oma’s apartment.

  As quietly and reassuringly as I could, I said, “It’s all right, Gingersnap. No barking.”

  She still barked. Woof, woof, woof. Woof, woof, woof. Oma must be awake by now. I dashed down the stairs.

  “Casey, could I have a key to Oma’s apartment?”

  His lips pulled tight, grim. “I’m not supposed to give them to anybody.” But he handed me a ring of keys. “It’s the pink one.”

  I staggered back up the stairs, anxious to halt Gingersnap’s incessant barking. Woof, woof, woof.

  I slid the key into the lock, twisted it, and opened the door to a dark apartment. Gingersnap butted her head into my thighs and refused to budge. At least she wasn’t barking anymore. I stroked her head and gave her a big hug.

  How could Oma have possibly slept through that? I managed to evade Gingersnap, who continued to demand my attention, and tiptoed over to Oma’s bedroom. Could she have slept so deeply that she missed the commotion?

  Gingersnap burst past me and leaped onto the bed. She wouldn’t sleep through that!

  “Oma, I’m so sorry.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Oma?”

  Nothing.

  My heart sped up again, beating like it would fly out of my chest. I flicked on the light.

  Thirty

  No Oma. Except for the wrinkles Gingersnap had probably caused, I didn’t think her bed had been slept in.

  I looked around in case she had fallen. Although I found no sign of Oma, there, on her dresser, in plain sight, lay cruise brochures. Hong Kong, Singapore, Japan. I flapped them down with irritation. Either she was planning a vacation or Holmes knew all along that Oma was ready to let the inn go. Rose had probably confided in him. Why hadn’t Oma come right out and told me? It seemed so obvious to me now. She was ready to retire and sell the inn.

  Where was she, though? I had seen her go into her apartment and heard her lock the door. There was no way she could have left, unless she escaped through a window and rappelled down the outside of the building.

  I had to be losing my grip. First Trixie vanished, and now Oma. Aha. Of course. Oma must have departed while I was out looking for Trixie.

  Releasing a huge sigh, I left, taking Gingersnap with me so she wouldn’t start barking again. I locked Oma’s door and returned the keys to Casey, suddenly feeling very, very tired.

  “Do you know where my grandmother went?”

  Casey’s eyes rounded, wide with fright. “I haven’t seen her.”

  “She must be here somewhere. Maybe she’s making hot milk so she can sleep.”

  “Where’s your dog?”

  “I don’t know. With Oma, maybe? I’m so tired. Just watch, I’ll head over to the kitchen and will find the two of them having a grand old time eating a midnight snack.”

  “I saw the blankets. Why are you sleeping up there?”

  “To keep an eye on her.”

  “That didn’t turn out very well.”

  Little smarty-pants! “Thank you. Now I feel so much better,” I said sarcastically.

  He handed me my phone, which he must have rescued after Trixie kicked it over the balcony. “You’re lucky the phone didn’t break. But you’re going to feel worse. I’m sorry. I read the message.”

  I flicked it on. I hereby rescind all prior proposals of marriage.

  I laughed too loud and clapped a hand over my mouth, hoping I hadn’t woken anyone.

  “It’s funny?” Casey repositioned his glasses.

  My entire body shook with laughter. In fact, I couldn’t stop laughing. It was too weird. I’d been offended by the original proposal, and now I had been electronically dumped!

  Casey looked at me like I had lost my mind.

  I was still laughing when I left him and returned to Oma’s kitchen with Gingersnap. But in one second, nothing was funny anymore. No Oma, and no sign of Trixie.

  Where had they gone? I wandered back to the grand staircase. The front door wasn’t locked. What time did they lock it at night? I peeked out at the rocking chairs on the porch, and scanned the plaza in front of the inn—dead quiet. Not a soul moved.

  I returned inside and locked the front door behind me.

  “Didn’t find her?”

  A little squeal escaped me. I whirled around and found Mr. Luciano in the Dogwood Room. He still wore the black bathrobe, but now he held an old-fashioned glass that contained an amber liquid.

  “Scotch?” he asked.

  It wasn’t my drink. “No, thanks. Have you seen my grandmother?”

  “Not since earlier this evening. She’s a wonderful person, your grandmother. I hope you cherish her.”

  “I do.” I smiled at him reassuringly.

  He sat down and crossed his legs, displaying surprisingly elegant gold jacquard pajama pants. “My own grandmother came here from Italy. But not the Italy that everybody thinks of—Rome or Sicily. My family came from the mountains in northern Italy. Tyrol, they call it. Have you been there? It’s beautiful. Very relaxing, like it is here.” He stroked Gingersnap’s head.

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “It is. I love coming to the Sugar Maple Inn, too. But this has been a stressful trip for me.”

  A little shudder hammered through me. Was he about to confess to murder? What had he done with Oma? Had she left her suite right after me and run into him in the hallway while I raced around like an idiot looking for Trixie?

  “Where is Oma?” My voice came out breathy and nervous. “Where is my dog?”

  He didn’t seem to notice my agitation. “You
know, when you’re born, your mother and father love you like no other person ever will. Not even your wife.”

  Was he delusional? I played along. “You’re married?”

  “Not anymore. She left me—” he waggled his head from side to side “—and now she’s not with us.” He sipped his Scotch. “But a dog . . . a dog will love you like your mama. Unconditional, they call it. No matter what you do, a dog will forgive you and defend you.”

  “What happened to your wife?” I whispered, almost afraid to hear his answer.

  “Oddly, I find I do not care about her any longer. She is not worthy of my devotion or my interest.”

  My patience wore thin. Did he know where Oma was? “What about my grandmother? Is she worthy?”

  “Oh my, yes. I’m grateful for her kindness and wisdom. She has been most considerate this week.”

  I couldn’t help myself, my voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Then where is she?”

  He stood up and faced me. “Are you saying she’s missing?”

  I blinked at him, unable to discern whether he was lying or being honest. “I can’t find her—or Trixie.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. They must be around here somewhere.”

  I dearly wanted to get a peek inside his room. The rational side of me hoped I was being melodramatic. Only on a TV show would a guest hide the innkeeper in his room. Still . . . what excuse could I use?

  “You don’t suppose Trixie dodged into your room while the door was open?”

  “Let’s go look!”

  He must not be hiding Oma there or he wouldn’t have been so eager. Nevertheless, I sidestepped to the house phone in the entrance and called Casey. “I’m going upstairs to Heel to see if Trixie sneaked into Mr. Luciano’s room.”

  The moment of silence on the other end clued me in—Casey didn’t understand why I was calling him. “Won’t Mr. Luciano be upset if you wake him?”

  “He’s right here with me.”

  “Oh. Ohhhhh! Gotcha covered!”

  Mr. Luciano made small talk about Oma, and we ventured up the stairs with Gingersnap leading the way. As we turned down the hallway, Casey peered around the corner and immediately flipped his back against the wall to hide.