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

by Davis, Krista

  Oh no! It finally dawned on me why she was showing so much interest. The rat must have siblings. Ugh.

  I couldn’t do anything about it at the late hour without waking half the guests. My stomach turned at the thought, but we would have to relocate the rat family the next day. Oma must have traps somewhere.

  Hoping none of them would make an appearance that night, I unlocked the door to my quarters and discovered Twinkletoes inside, watching TV in the sitting room. At my very quiet urging, Trixie gave the storage room door one last wistful glance and finally joined me.

  I spread paper towels over the kitchen counter. The bag Trixie had carried turned out to be a sock. When I unknotted it and poured out the contents, two gold necklaces and a gold coin tumbled out.

  “Did you dig this up in Jerry’s yard?” I asked.

  Trixie ignored me and watched TV with Twinkletoes.

  The day Jerry died, he’d shown us something similar. Had that been a ruse? Could Jerry have been involved in the thefts at Snowball Mountain? But why would this have been buried in his flower bed?

  I stashed the sock and the contents inside an empty cachepot for the night.

  I turned off the TV, and the three of us went to bed.

  • • •

  Morning came too early for those who had been out sleuthing in the night. Twinkletoes woke me. She sat behind my head and tapped my forehead with her paw.

  I didn’t need Zelda to translate. Hello? Is anyone in there?

  I dragged myself to the kitchen. In the future, I had to remember to leave her a nighttime snack so she wouldn’t be so eager to wake me in the morning. Twinkletoes waited patiently while I spooned tuna mousse into her bowl.

  Trixie still lounged in bed, where I wanted to be. A shower went a long way in waking me. Unfortunately, I remembered the rat issue. I pulled on the jeans I’d worn the night before in anticipation of going into the musty storage room. The deep-pink top brightened up the informal jeans. If I stayed much longer, I’d be tempted to buy some warmer clothes.

  I called Dave and left a somewhat cryptic message about finding something of interest. How was I going to explain that I had been sneaking around Jerry’s yard? Nevertheless, I had to turn it in. I wrapped the sock in paper towels and jammed it in my pocket.

  The nightmare of being unemployed weighed heavily on me. I hadn’t done a thing in the last few days to find a new job. I would have to start that ball rolling soon. Otherwise, I’d find myself in a big bind before I knew it.

  “Come on, Trixie,” I called, heading for the door. “Twinkletoes!”

  Trixie came running. We waited for Twinkletoes. I called her name again and again. Where had that silly girl gone? I ran a quick check through the rooms. No sign of Twinkletoes. She must have curled up somewhere to sleep after her breakfast. I would check back before the great rat eradication.

  Trixie zoomed into the hallway and straight to the door of the storage room. Ugh. Breakfast first. No one should ever tackle a rat problem on an empty stomach.

  Trixie had already figured out our routine. She beat me to the dining area. By the time I arrived, she was going from table to table begging for food. No! No, no, no! Why had I left the leash upstairs?

  I snagged my little cutie and carried her into Oma’s private kitchen, hoping I might find a string or some twine to use as a temporary leash.

  Instead, I found Twinkletoes, comfortably curled up in one of the cushy chairs by the fireplace.

  “How did you do that?” She hadn’t slipped by me when I opened the door to my room.

  Twinkletoes didn’t seem to care. She lifted her head and regarded us with disinterest. She yawned, displaying pink gums, itty bitty white teeth, and a rosy tongue, then curled up tight for a nap.

  Someone else must have had leash issues, because I found a little stash of Sugar Maple leashes in a closet. I snapped one onto Trixie’s collar and returned to the dining area, keeping the leash very short so she would be forced to walk close to me and wouldn’t be able to lunge at the breakfasts of other dogs.

  We joined Oma, who ate oatmeal for breakfast. “The temperature is dropping,” she said. “See the mist rising from the water? Won’t be long until the trees turn glorious colors.”

  I pulled the wrapped sock out of my pocket. “Remember the gold coins that Jerry showed us? Trixie found this in his yard last night.”

  Oma studied the necklaces and the coin. Her forehead furrowed, she dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “He must have been involved with the thieves in Snowball.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Or someone put it there to make it appear that way.”

  Dave rushed in. He perched on the edge of a chair. “I don’t have a lot of time. What’s up?”

  I shoved the sock and contents his way.

  Dave stared at them. “Where did you find this?”

  I had to tell him the truth, even if put me in a bad light. “Trixie dug it up in Jerry’s flower bed.”

  “You should have left it there, untouched.”

  “I didn’t realize she found it.”

  Dave closed his eyes for a second too long. “And what were you doing there? Snooping?”

  “Spying, if you must know.”

  Oma coughed. “That’s my girl!”

  Dave stared at me with tired eyes. “On whom?”

  “On Ben’s girlfriend, Kim.”

  “And why was Kim there?”

  “To see Brewster.”

  “About what?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. She stole Trixie in the middle of the night. I have no idea why.”

  Dave’s shoulders sagged forward. “Two murders and you’re worried about a spat over a dog? Or is the dog just a pawn in an argument over Ben?” He stood up, pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, and turned it over his hand, inside out. He grabbed the items, slid the bag over his fingers and sealed the gold inside. “This, however, could be helpful. Thank you.”

  He turned to go.

  “No breakfast?” asked Oma.”

  “Not today, thanks.” He loped out.

  That off my mind, I turned to my other immediate problem. I had to bring up the rat issue carefully. A waitress I didn’t recognize came to take our order.

  “Could I interest you in caramel banana oatmeal?”

  Caramel put a decidedly unhealthy but ever so yummy spin on oatmeal. Who could resist? I ordered one for me and a doggy version for Trixie.

  Instead of upsetting Oma by suggesting there could be a rat, or more than one, in the storage room, I told her about Trixie’s behavior.

  Oma finished her coffee. “Most peculiar. Do you mind having a look around?” She handed me her key ring. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  I would have to show her a rat nest before she would believe it. I shuddered at the thought.

  The waitress delivered our breakfast and scuttled off to other tables.

  “Where’s Shelley?” I asked.

  “You like Shelley, too, I see. It’s her day off. I worry about her. She has a lot on her plate taking care of her little boy while her husband is overseas on military duty.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Me?” She laughed. “At least Zelda dumped that no-goodnik who was mooching off her. We have to find her someone better.”

  “Oma!” I scolded. “Look, I think I was pretty nice about that stunt that you and Rose pulled to throw Holmes and me together. But you have to stop doing things like that. I know you mean well, but you have to butt out of other people’s love lives.”

  “Yes. You are quite right, my Holly. I will keep this in mind.” She rose. “You will excuse me, yes? And don’t forget to tell me what you find upstairs.”

  She could bet on that.

  Caramel turned out to be just about the best thing ever on oatmeal. I savored every bite of the sweet, slightly gooey caramel, which clung to the oatmeal and fresh slices of banana. I noticed that Trixie had no problem polishing of
f her bowl of oatmeal, sans caramel, either.

  I lingered over a second cup of tea to put off the rat excursion as long as possible. It was a bad call.

  Thirty-eight

  If I had only stopped at one cup of tea and gone off to hunt rats, I wouldn’t have been there when Philip waltzed in.

  I was trapped. Even if I made a beeline for Oma’s private kitchen, it would be too late. He would have seen me. It was time to straighten him out.

  He had the nerve to peck me on the cheek. Pulling a chair too close to me, he held onto the back of my chair, like he was staking a claim.

  “Thank you for the chocolates.”

  “My pleasure. I can’t stay long. I just had to stop by to say good morning.”

  “Look, Philip. I’m sure you’re a wonderful guy, but I just . . .” Aha! I could tell him the truth, sort of, without hurting him. “Well, something happened, and now I’m not sure that Ben and I are over after all. You understand.”

  His face fell. “Aunt Birdie won’t like this.”

  Who cared what Aunt Birdie thought? I tried another tack. “Maybe you don’t realize that Zelda is crazy about you. I would never want to hurt her.”

  “Zelda? The psychic? She is crazy! No, Holly. We’re meant to be together. It’s our destiny. We belong together.”

  “Philip,” I said gently, “we hardly know each other.”

  “There’s chemistry between us.”

  I was beginning to feel chemistry all right—noxious chemistry. It was time to make my exit. Dire circumstances called for extreme measures. “I’m sorry, Philip. You’re going way too fast here. It’s not public knowledge yet, but Ben and I have set the date. We’re getting married.” Okay, that was a big, fat honking lie, but this guy needed to back off! I rose, clutching Trixie’s leash and hauled out of there as fast as I could without attracting more attention. We climbed the stairs quickly, and in case he followed us, I headed straight to the storage room, preferring to deal with the rodents.

  I unlocked the door and let it swing open.

  Trixie strained at the leash. I shuddered to think what she smelled. My puny human nose didn’t register anything—it wasn’t even very musty. What did rats smell like?

  Fearing Philip might follow us, I quickly closed the door behind us. Not that I particularly wanted to be trapped there with a rodent.

  Dormer windows on both sides were cracked open, allowing a breeze to blow through. That explained the lack of odor. The space was huge, much bigger than I remembered, and not as scary as I had expected. Desks, dressers, and chairs filled the middle. Headboards leaned against walls. A few armoires blocked my view. Extra dining tables, Christmas decorations—a rat paradise. They could hide anywhere.

  Reluctantly, I unsnapped Trixie’s leash. She would find the pesky little creatures faster than me.

  Her nails clicked across the wood floor as she raced through the room, her nose leading her. She yipped a couple of times. Ugh. Did that mean she found them?

  Weighing Philip versus a furry rat, I cracked the door, so I could make a hasty exit if necessary. I peeked out, relieved that he wasn’t hanging around outside the door to my quarters.

  I followed Trixie slowly, stepping cautiously and hoping a rat wouldn’t run across my thong sandals. The mere thought sent shivers through me. Clearly not the best footwear for this kind of work.

  Consoling myself with the notion that maybe one lonely rat hid from us, scared out of its mind, I peered ahead but couldn’t see much for all the bulky furniture. Maybe the rat Trixie dispatched left behind a nest of tiny babies that could be easily removed?

  I made my way to the far corner, where Trixie wriggled upside-down on a bed. Someone had put together an entire bed. Footboard, headboard, and all. On top of the mattress lay a pink sleeping bag with fluffy white kittens and silver crowns printed on it. A nearby table held a flashlight, an empty soda can, two peanut butter and chocolate candy bars, and a set of keys. The keys drew me closer. They hung on an open ring with a golf ball on one end and a golf club on the other. Sterling silver if I had to guess.

  A flurry of fur zoomed by me. I shrieked and scooted back.

  Twinkletoes landed on the bed briefly. Uninterested, she sprang to the table and swatted the keys onto the floor. They jingled as they fell. In an instant she pounced on them and played kitty hockey with them, sending them flying across the floor.

  I let out a great breath of air. No rats. At least it didn’t look like it. Someone had fixed a little nest up here, but it appeared to be a larger, human rat. I had to tell Oma.

  Leaving the door open for Twinkletoes, I headed for the elevator. Trixie followed me until she saw I planned to step into the scary little room that moved. She balked. I called to her from inside the elevator. She ran forward, then backed up again. I picked her up and carried her into the elevator.

  “You’ll be happy to know that there are no elevators in my house. Of course, no one will cook meals for you, either. You’ll have to eat kibble like other dogs.”

  She didn’t seem too worried about that. I exited the elevator and set her down. She raced along to Oma’s office as though she knew where we were going.

  I arrived just in time to see her collect a treat from Zelda and zoom into Oma’s office to beg for another one. Good thing the dog cookies were tiny!

  Easing into a chair, I said, “We have a little problem. Someone is sleeping in the storage room.”

  Oma’s hands flew up in shock. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. A bed is set up with a sleeping bag and a few personal items.”

  Oma’s forehead wrinkled. “Ja? Who would do such a thing?”

  I sighed. It would probably be better if she figured out the worst part of it herself. “Oma, I had to unlock the door to get in.”

  She blinked at me. “You are saying it must be an employee. One who has access to house keys.”

  “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

  “This makes no sense. Zelda, Shelley, Tiny, Casey, the new housekeeper—all my employees have homes.”

  “Maybe someone had to move out and had nowhere to go? Although, honestly, I didn’t see clothes or dishes or much personal stuff.”

  She rose and accompanied me to the elevator. I scooped Trixie up before she could do her dance of fear.

  Minutes later, Oma and I searched the storage room for clues to the identity of the mysterious, as she called it, “attic guest.”

  We were stumped. Barring fingerprints or DNA tests of some sort, the person hadn’t left anything special behind, except for the keys. After crawling around on my knees, I finally spotted them under a dresser and fished them out with a broom.

  Oma shook her head upon seeing them. “I do not know these keys.”

  “You probably don’t ever see the keys of your employees.”

  “This is true,” she conceded.

  “What now?”

  Oma held the keys in her hand. Her head didn’t move, but she looked me in the eyes, her lips pursed with displeasure. “Golf? Sounds more like a guest than an employee.”

  “I’d think it might be Prissy or Peaches, but I can’t imagine how they could have gotten in here.”

  “Come, my dear. We have work to do.”

  I collected Twinkletoes, and Trixie followed us out.

  Oma locked the door and tested the knob. “Tonight we will wait to see who comes. Yes?”

  “You’re such a sneak.”

  She laughed. “I love a good mystery, and this certainly qualifies.”

  I stopped her before she stepped into the elevator. “Maybe we should tell Dave.”

  “No. If it is an employee with problems, I would rather be of help, not cause legal difficulties, too.”

  “Someone tried to kill you. Under the circumstances . . .”

  She massaged her forehead. “Perhaps you are correct. Could you track down Dave and let him know?”

  “Absolutely.” I hurried back to my suite and placed a call to Dave. He did
n’t answer his home phone or his cell phone. I left messages for him, telling him we’d discovered that someone with a golf club key ring was camping out in the attic of the inn. Given the circumstances, we thought he should be with us when we confronted the unofficial guest.

  • • •

  Not an hour later, I browsed through Pawsitively Decadent in search of turtles. Jackpot! Exactly what I wanted. Pecan turtles made fresh on the premises with bourbon and dipped in chocolate. I bought a box, which the saleswoman very kindly gussied up with the store ribbon of gold paw prints on a white satin background.

  Too bad I couldn’t teach Trixie to carry it, since the gift really came from both of us. I had a sneaking suspicion she would rip it open and eat the contents given half a chance.

  She accompanied me to HEAL!, where I sought out Eric, the pharmacist, and presented the turtles to him. “We wanted to thank you for helping us. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you called when you saw Trixie.”

  He knelt and ruffled her fur. “It’s reward enough that she’s home safe and sound. We’ve had too much trouble in Wagtail this week. I’m glad there was good news, too.”

  He must hear a lot of gossip. “Any word on whether they’re making progress on identifying the killer?”

  “Everyone has a theory. The only thing we know for sure is that Mortie’s car was stolen from Northern Virginia. Not from Wagtail. So that means either the thief went up there to get it, or someone stole it from the thief.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Police reports and gossip. The Snowball newspaper runs the police reports every week. It wasn’t reported stolen up here. I believe in coincidences, but I have trouble imagining that Mortie’s stolen car just happened to turn up here, you know?”

  So did I. No wonder Mortie sent Ben to Wagtail. Someone from Wagtail had gone to a lot of trouble to steal Mortie’s car. I had to wonder if that person had known all along that he would use it to commit a murder. “Have they established that Mortie’s car is the one that hit Sven?”

  “Everyone is assuming that’s the case.”

  “Why Mortie’s car? Why not use another car that was more readily available?”