Traitorous Toys (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 2)

by Mildred Abbott

  But I did know that name. I was sure of it.

  And talk about opening it wide for motive. If any of the Diamonds had known about the will, it would definitely be a reason to murder Declan. It seemed their reasons were almost limitless.

  I expected to see Katie the following morning when Watson and I stopped in for our daily chai and scone at the Black Bear Roaster. Instead, Carla, looking impossibly more pregnant than the day before, met us with a glare from behind the counter. “Pumpkin spice latte and gingerbread scone like normal, correct?”

  She’d waited on me once, hardly enough time to have established a normal order. “You know, I think I’m going to mix it up, be crazy today.” I gave her a wink, and the second I did, I felt weird about it. Perhaps I thought it would cheer her up; though why a wink would do it, I had no idea. “How about let’s try a large dirty chai and a pumpkin scone.”

  Carla shrugged. “You got it.”

  As she made the drink, I glanced behind the counter and only found a thin teenage boy refilling the coffee grinder, probably working during his Christmas vacation. In less than two minutes, Carla was back, sliding me my chai along with a piece of pumpkin bread. I nearly corrected her mistake, then thought maybe she was doing me a favor. I was the one insane enough to keep ordering scones and expecting them to change. “Thanks so much. Ah, I thought Katie would be here.”

  Carla halted, the credit card I’d given her frozen in midair. “She called me late last night, gave her two weeks’ notice. Apparently she’s opening her own bakery.” She sniffed. “I told her to not bother coming in. She was a weird one, anyway. Although I regretted that decision at five this morning, let me tell you.” Carla rubbed her belly.

  I paused for a second, waiting for tirade against me and my bookshop, but none came. It seemed Katie hadn’t mentioned where she was opening her bakery, and I was grateful.

  A minute or so later, and Watson and I were headed across the street to the Cozy Corgi. I took a bite of the pumpkin bread, which was mildly moister than the scones, and tossed Watson a bite when we reached the other sidewalk. We were almost to the store when I realized my dilemma over whether to continue going to the Black Bear Roaster would be short-lived. Soon dirty chais and non-dry scones would be right above my head every morning. The thought felt like a mental cozy blanket pulled up over me. Life was going to be wonderful. Endless caffeine, endless pastries, and endless books.

  Dear Lord, I’d be lucky if it was only a hundred pounds I gained.

  To my surprise, even after the pumpkin bread was gone, Watson didn’t trundle up the steps and disappear to the second floor as normal. Instead he wandered over to the nonfiction section that Katie and I had arranged the day before, and fell asleep in the rays of the winter sunlight pouring through the window. As rare as that was, I knew I should enjoy it while it lasted. As soon as Katie was baking upstairs, I’d never see Watson again.

  As I worked on arranging the biography section, careful not to wake Watson, I pondered the implications of Declan leaving everything to the mystery woman. I was of two minds on the situation. It made sense for any of the three remaining Diamonds to be so angry at Declan that they would murder him. But Declan had made other enemies, hadn’t he? Even if not as obvious as his family drama, there were other possibilities.

  And who in the world was the mystery woman? Everyone knew everything about everyone in a town as small as Estes Park, or at least thought they did. The only possibility I could imagine was that the woman must not be from here. Maybe from Denver or Lyons?

  I was nearly done with the third box of books when I realized what day it was. I looked over at a peacefully sleeping Watson as guilt and dread washed over me. Today was the day I’d agreed to the corgi playdate with Paulie Mertz. I was tempted to find an excuse. I was opening a store, for crying out loud. If I could use it for an excuse to refrain from a dinner with a handsome park ranger, I should definitely be able to do it to keep Watson away from Flotsam and Jetsam. But I really just wanted to get it over with.

  Katie called around lunchtime, sounding ecstatic about the abrupt dismissal from the coffee shop. She’d gone down to Denver to check out industrial baking equipment in person, as opposed to online, and needed me to get some measurements from the upstairs kitchen.

  Then, after a lunch of leftover Mexican food from the night before for myself, and a can of tuna for Watson—how he could tell the difference between canned dog food and canned tuna, I would never know—it was back to work and pondering over who the mystery woman was. It wasn’t long before I had a new suspect. Sarah Beeman, whoever she was, certainly had a motive—she was in line to inherit everything.

  As the afternoon wore on, pondering Declan’s killing gave way to a buildup of dread of the corgi playdate. With less than an hour to spare, I grew more and more tempted to cancel. And with every moment that passed, it would make it ever more rude. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I let out a yelp when the mail was shoved through the slot in the door.

  Watson beat me to it, sniffing the pile of mail like he expected either a snack or a bomb, then gave me a withering glare when I walked over and picked it up. It was all junk. How it was possible that a new business, one that hadn’t even opened, could get so many catalogs and applications for credit cards was beyond me. I was nearly ready to toss it all into the recycling when I noticed the letter stuck in the pages of a floral catalog.

  My skin tingled as I read the envelope: Sarah M. Beeman.

  The rest of the mail fell from my fingers with a clatter on the floor, and a yelp from Watson. I barely noticed.

  Sarah M. Beeman. That was why I had recognized the name.

  What was the name Gerald had said? Sarah Margaret Beeman.

  And as before, the return address was a Denver law firm.

  It still didn’t make sense, but at least I knew I wasn’t going crazy.

  I checked my cell, half an hour before I was to meet Paulie. Another second passed and I made up my mind. I grabbed the leash off the counter and patted my thigh. “Come on, Watson. We’ve gotta make this quick.”

  When we reached Rocky Mountain Imprints, we were thwarted. Two burly men were blocking the entrance as they did something to the doorframe. Only then did I notice the glass that made up the center of the door was missing. Repairmen, obviously. I nearly decided to wait, to come back later, but the prospect of being with Paulie and his two crazed corgis while this was on my mind sounded like the epitome of torture. I motioned toward the empty space.

  “Sorry to bother you. Do you mind if we pop in for a moment? I hate to get in your way, but I promise I’ll be quick.”

  Though both looked annoyed, one of the men opened what remained of the door and allowed Watson and I to walk in.

  “Thank you so much!”

  We barely rounded the corner into the store, when Peg saw us. “Oh, hi! So nice of you to drop by. I was planning on heading down to you in a few minutes.”

  That threw me off. “You were coming to see me?”

  She tilted her cute blonde head. “Well, of course, silly. You’re the client. Or potential one, at least.” She winked, then raised her voice and hollered toward the back. “Joe, sweetie, bring up Fred’s hoodie, would you?”

  The hoodie! I’d completely forgotten. Peg had said it would be done by today.

  She turned her attention back to me. “It came out super cute. I really hope you’ll be pleased. I chose a soft brown background. I think it goes nicely with the white lettering.”

  A man just as large as the two repairmen out front, walked into view from the back of the store and handed Peg the folded hoodie. “Here you go, love.” His voice was deep and soft. The picture of them together was somewhat off-putting. Peg so small, and Joe absolutely huge. And where Peg was beautiful in a pixie sort of way, the same could not be said for Joe, in any sort of way. The man was unfortunately homely. He gave me a polite nod, then disappeared back through the racks of T-shirts.

  Peg unfolded the ho
odie and grinned as she inspected it, then turned it toward me. The size I’d ordered for myself looked nearly like a tent next to her petite stature. And for a moment, all my other concerns vanished, and I sighed. She’d been right. The logo was perfect on the soft brown background of the hoodie. Like on the sign of my store, a fat corgi sat on the top of the stack of four books, with the words The Cozy Corgi arched over its head. I reached out and touched the corgi with my fingertip. It was still warm. Joe must’ve just finished making it. I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze away. “Oh, Peg, it’s wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I really do think they’ll be a big seller for you. Especially if you do a variety of products. I know you weren’t in love with the idea of shot glasses, but there’s other things to choose from.” She folded up the hoodie, slipped it into a bag, and handed it to me. “This one’s on the house. Wear it a couple days, give it some washes, see the quality of it, and let me know. We’d love to be your supplier.”

  I was glad she mentioned washing it first. I’d been ready to sign on the dotted line. Bakery upstairs or not, I’d find a place somewhere for Cozy Corgi merchandise. Even if I was the only customer. “Thank you, Peg. I’m sure it will be just fine, but I’ll try it out and let you know.”

  Just then there was a loud crash, causing Peg, Watson, and myself to jump.

  A deep voice rumbled embarrassingly from the front door. “Sorry! My bad. We’ll cut a new piece of glass. It’ll just take a little bit longer.”

  “No problem.” Peg called to them and then looked at me with a commiserating sigh. “Business ownership isn’t all glitz and glam, as you’re about to find out. Some kid must’ve hit our front door with a BB gun yesterday, and it’s turned into this big old thing. Expensive, but not enough to turn in to the insurance without our premiums going up. Always something.” She shook her head.

  “I know what you mean. When I came up here, I thought I’d spend a week or so and have my shop open. By the time we finally do, it will be almost two months. And that’s still a big if I can get it ready by January.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal if you don’t. You’ll be missing some money during the winter months, but not a ton. Just make sure you’re up and running by the end of May. Our biggest season is when kids are out of school. Then it’s every man for himself. We each have to make enough over the summer to last us the entire year.”

  Thanks to the betrayal of my best friend and the dollar amount of compensation I received, even though it wasn’t what it should have been, I didn’t have to worry about sales to the same level as many of the other storeowners. Otherwise, I never in a million years would have opened a brick-and-mortar bookshop. I figured it best not to mention that, though.

  “Thanks for the advice. Any insight I can get into operating a store in a tourist town is priceless.” I repositioned the bag with the hoodie in preparation to leave and then remembered why I’d come in the first place. I held the envelope out to her. “Oh, silly me. I almost forgot. I got another misdelivered piece of mail.”

  She took it, read the envelope, and her eyes widened slightly. She glanced toward the back again. Before a heartbeat passed, she smiled up at me. “Misdelivered mail will be the least of your headaches as a business owner, I can promise you.” She tucked the letter away. “Thanks for bringing this. And while I don’t expect you to handle our mail, if you see any more letters addressed to her, feel free to throw them away.”

  Odd request. “Who is she? I’ve met a lot of people in town but haven’t met anyone named Sarah Beeman.”

  Peg rolled her eyes. “That’s what I mean. Even small things add up to large annoyances. I don’t know who she is. We’ve gotten letters addressed to her since the time we opened the store. I can only assume she was someone who owned the shop in this location before, or maybe someone who worked here. I don’t know.” She cleared her throat and glanced toward the back once more. “I tried to find her the first couple of times, and then gave up. I suppose I need to contact the post office and let them know that if they come across any more letters to her to just return them to the sender.”

  “Well, I know she has to be around here.” I wasn’t going to share all that I knew, but maybe a tidbit of gossip could loosen the wheels, or trigger a memory that she might tell me later. “The Diamonds next door know her.”

  She flinched, then shook her head. “They do? I don’t think that’s true. I asked everyone around when I got that first letter to her. Including the Diamonds. They didn’t know.”

  “That’s strange. I’m certain Declan knew her.”

  Peg just shook her head. “Maybe so. The Diamonds are a wonderful family, but Declan and I never got along.” A flush rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I forgot. One shouldn’t speak such things of the dead. God rest his soul.”

  That most definitely wasn’t a tenet I lived by, but I nodded along anyway. “No problem.” I held the bag with the hoodie up. “Thank you again for this. I absolutely love it. I’m certain I’ll want some other things in my store.”

  She smiled, but not as brightly as before. “I’m so glad. It will be a lot of fun working with you. Do let me know what you’ve decided, and of course if you have any questions, never hesitate.”

  With a wave, I turned to leave, but as we approached the door, there was still glass everywhere. One of the repairman looked at me and simply shook his head. I glanced over to Peg. “Do you have a back exit? I suppose I could pick Watson up and carry him over the glass, but he hates it. And I’m covered in enough dog hair as it is. Anytime I pick him up, I might as well be wearing a corgi fur coat after.”

  “Oh, my goodness. I wasn’t even thinking. I’m so sorry.” She rushed around the counter and waved me toward her, then pointed to a door in the back that was barely visible through all the T-shirts hanging in the way. “Right through there, sweetie. That’s the alley. It leads to the new riverwalk out back.” She reached up to pat my shoulder, and then bent to offer a similar gesture to Watson, who scooted quickly out of her reach.

  “Thank you. Never mind Watson; he’s always a little grumpy. Unless you’re my stepfather, and then you’re Christmas morning and birthdays all rolled into one.” My stepfather and Leo Lopez, it seemed.

  She waved me off. “Not a big deal. I have a cat at home that is the exact same way. Absolutely worships the ground Joe walks on. I might as well be kitty litter for all she is concerned.”

  And with a final wave, Watson and I wove our way through the maze of T-shirts, past another trophy case with a baseball bat leaning beside it, and out the back door. Though the day was cloudy, it was bright, and I had to blink, letting my eyes adjust. Once I did, the alley looked strangely familiar, and glancing behind, the answer of why was obvious. It was the alley that Rocky Mountain Imprints shared with Bushy Evergreen’s Workshop. The alley where I’d seen Daphne and Dolan kiss two days before.

  The toyshop had still been closed as Watson and I had passed it to get to Peg’s, and I was tempted to go knock on their back door. Though what I would ask if somebody answered, I had no idea. If one of them did know who Sarah Beeman was and they were Declan’s killer, asking them in an alley wouldn’t be the smartest move. And with a jolt, I suddenly remembered Paulie Mertz and his eel-like corgis. I glanced at my cell. We were almost late.

  I barely noticed Watson tugging on my leash, until he let out a sharp yelp and a whine.

  I hurried over and found him chewing on something on the side of the dumpster. “Watson. Stop it.”

  He yelped again, but kept right on chewing on his treasure. Probably a sharp bone.

  I squatted down beside him, and pulled whatever it was from his mouth. “You are ridiculous. Only you would continue to eat something that’s hurting you. Actual dog food, you’re too good to eat, but this”— I shook it at him, sparing it a glance —“old work glove is a delicacy all of the sudden.” I narrowed my eyes at the glove. There was something red and chunky all over it.

  Unpertu
rbed, Watson darted back at the pile of refuse that had fallen from the dumpster and began chomping down on something else.

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” I yanked his leash away, far enough to see that he’d discovered a fourth of a pizza. Of course, he’d been attempting to eat a glove because it was covered in pizza sauce. Brilliant. I gave another tug, but Watson was strong enough that when he made up his mind, moving him wasn’t a one-handed job. I tossed the glove back by the pizza, and pulled him away, both hands tight around his leash. We were out of the alley before he stopped struggling.

  He glared up at me, making it very clear that there would be no corgi cuddles later.

  “Give me that look all you want to, buddy. All you did was just make me feel not the least bit bad for you about what’s to happen next. I was planning on making you play with Flotsam and Jetsam for thirty minutes at the most. But I think you deserve to have to play with them for an hour.”

  Even as we made our way to the park, I knew that was one threat I wouldn’t follow through on. No way in the world was I spending the entire hour in solitary conversation with Paulie Mertz.

  Watson whined the entire two-block walk from the alley to the park. “Complain all you want to. I’m not going to have any sympathy, Mr. Stubborn Pants.” The pathetic look he gave me already had me softening, like he knew it would. “Maybe just fifteen minutes with the evil twins, how about that?” Though how in the world I was going to get away with only fifteen minutes without seeming like the rudest person in the entire universe, I wasn’t sure.

  With one block to spare, the winter night sky opened up and snow began to come down in torrents. I lifted my gaze skyward. “Thank you for the Christmas miracle, Santa.” I could blame the Mini Cooper, say that it didn’t have four-wheel drive. That much was true, so it wouldn’t be a lie. Hopefully Paulie wouldn’t know that Mini Coopers came with front wheel drive, and it was doing just splendidly in the mountains so far.