by Krista Davis
“Excellent timing. Would you like hot tea or should I have Shelley bring coffee?” She delivered a plate of cream puffs and chocolate-dipped strawberries to the table.
“Iced tea for me, thanks.”
“I’ll get Dave’s tea, Oma.” I hurried out to where people were enjoying afternoon tea, grabbed a tall glass, and filled it with ice cubes and cold tea. I rushed back in, set it in front of Dave, and stepped away to make my own hot tea.
“I have a little bit of news, Liesel.” Dave took a long drink. “Good news and bad news, unfortunately. The victim was a psychiatrist named Randall Donovan. Your letter was full of fingerprints. They haven’t identified all of them yet, but interestingly, the prints of a small-time thief came up, too. A guy named Mick Huff. He has a long record, mostly for petty crimes, but he has also burglarized homes and businesses.”
Dave slid a picture across the table to Oma. “Recognize him?”
I spooned sugar into my tea and brought it to the table so I could see the picture. Mick wore metal-rimmed glasses that looked too big for his face. A thick mustache covered his upper lip, but his mouth hung open. His hair was cut short in front but curls in the back touched his shoulders.
“Such a man killed Randall?” Oma shook her head. “He looks small, and, please forgive me for saying this, but he doesn’t appear very intelligent.”
Dave selected a strawberry. “Most petty thieves don’t have PhDs, Liesel. And we don’t know that he murdered Randall, but it’s a pretty good guess.”
“What’s the bad news?” I picked out the smallest cream puff and bit into it, savoring the insanely decadent cream.
“No one knows where he is.”
Oma gasped. “Holly, would you please make copies of this photo and be sure all the employees see it? Perhaps post it at the registration and concierge desks?”
“Of course.” A bit reluctantly, I left my lovely cream puff and afternoon tea behind to make copies. I hurried down to the office.
“So, what’s the scoop?” Zelda tossed back her hair.
I held out the photo. “Small-time crook. His fingerprints are on the letter.”
Zelda frowned. “I saw him! Seriously. I saw him last night at Hair of the Dog.”
“Go tell Dave. He’s in Oma’s kitchen.”
While I was making copies, Ben returned.
“Is this a better time to talk?”
“Not really.” I showed him the photo.
“I saw him last night.”
“So did Zelda. Where did you see him?”
“At Hair of the Dog.”
“You better go tell Dave.”
“Holly?” Ben asked.
“Hmm?” I removed the original photo from the copy machine.
“I have a confession. I came here and filled out one of Macon’s forms in a way that I thought would match me to you.”
“You what?”
“I filled out my form the way I thought you would fill out your form because, well, I thought if we were matched up you might have to reconsider our relationship.”
“Oh, Ben. That’s about the sweetest thing you have ever done.”
“Then last night, I met Laura.” Ben looked down at the floor. “Now I feel kind of conflicted.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Did you know that she’s a professor? She’s smart and funny. She’s a pun genius. You know how I love puns. She even talked me into singing karaoke.”
“That’s nothing to feel guilty about.”
“We’re having dinner tonight.”
“I think that’s great. I won’t have to worry about you sitting around my apartment all by yourself. You better hurry to the kitchen before Dave leaves. He needs to know what you saw.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Go on.”
He left with his head slumping down, which made me wonder if he had expected me to throw myself in his arms and beg him to reconcile with me. I hoped that wasn’t the case. I wanted him to be happy.
When Zelda returned, I went back to the kitchen. Dave, Ben, and my cream puff were gone, but Oma still sat at the table with her cup of tea.
“Do you feel better now? I’m sure they’ll catch this Mick guy tonight.”
“Holly, I have a confession to make.”
Fifteen
Why was everyone saying that to me? I took a deep breath and sat down opposite her.
“In Germany, it has long been acceptable to place personal ads in newspapers and magazines. This is considered quite normal. It is not really very different from meeting a potential date through one of your modern computer dating services.”
I had no idea what she was getting at. “Uh-huh.”
“I didn’t think there would be many men in my age group here this weekend, so I placed a personal ad in one of the magazines for Germans living in America. This is how I met Gustav.”
“Oh!” I hadn’t expected that. I studied my grandmother. Somehow I had thought she was happy with her life. How utterly clueless of me. “I thought you were interested in the owner of the Blue Boar.”
“Ach. He is a friend, but there is no spark. I thought perhaps I should meet someone with a similar background to mine. This is why I knew something was very wrong. The dead man wasn’t old enough to be Gustav Vogel.”
That made sense. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
“I felt like a fool. Here I was expecting a fine, older gentleman, and when he turned out to be that dreadful man we met on the plaza, I thought I had been tricked and that I had believed the lies of a con man. I feared you would think me a silly old woman.”
“That’s why you were so troubled. I can understand that. But you weren’t sucked in by a con man.” I hoped not. After all, I didn’t know anything about Gustav. But as that thought crossed my mind, I realized that I knew just as little about John. “Do you like Gustav now that you have met him?”
“He is a nice man. Tonight we will have dinner at the Blue Boar, and tomorrow morning, we are taking a picnic lunch and hiking up the mountain. I look forward to it!”
“Then it all worked out okay.”
Oma tapped her teacup with a fingernail. “You don’t think I started this dreadful chain of events? If I hadn’t invited Gustav, then he would never have been mugged, and . . .”
“And what?”
“And perhaps Randall would never have been attacked. That man, Randall, he was looking for someone. Do you remember? What if he was looking for Gustav?”
“Why would you think that? Because he had the letter on him that you sent to Gustav?”
“Exactly. Why would he be in possession of a letter to Gustav? Now Dave is looking for this Mick Huff, but still something is not right.”
“Maybe Randall was looking for Mick.”
“Liebling, I want very much to imagine that some small-time crook intended to mug Randall and somehow ended up killing him. But I have a feeling that I cannot explain. There is something more to this.” Oma reached across the table and laid her hand over mine. “You help me, ja? You help me figure out what happened so this ugly crime isn’t hanging over our beloved Wagtail, besmirching its reputation?”
“Of course, Oma. You know I’ll do anything I can.”
“Very good.” Oma sipped her tea. When she set her cup down, she leaned toward me. “So far, it appears that the only person who knew Randall was Macon. Let us begin there.”
When Oma renovated the inn, she had installed two hidden stairways. One led from the kitchen to the dining room in my apartment. I left Oma in the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs to retrieve my iPad. I startled Twinkletoes when I dashed in, but she accepted my presence with feline aplomb, raising her head to see who it was, then curling into a tighter ball. She even had the nerve to slide a paw over her eyes, clearly shutti
ng me out.
Trixie followed me up the stairs and back down to the kitchen again.
I turned on the iPad and searched the name Randall Donovan. I recognized his photo as soon as it appeared. He had a website. I clicked on it and showed it to Oma.
“He was famous, this Randall Donovan?” she asked.
“Anyone can have a website, but it appears that he blogged a lot and was a speaker, too,” I said.
On a hunch, I searched Randall Donovan and Macon Stotts. And there it was—the smoking gun. “Good grief. He didn’t like Macon. Oma, he goes on and on about Macon. First he says there is no such thing as love. He goes on to say, ‘Romantic love is a hoax perpetrated upon us by our culture from birth. What we perceive as love is a temporary infatuation that wears thin after marriage, explaining the high rate of divorces.’”
I scrolled down a little and read aloud. “Aha! ‘Make no mistake that romance is big business. From major corporations that sell products designed to enhance our attractiveness to charlatans like Macon Stotts, who hoodwink people into believing that they can find our perfect mates, romance is all about money.’ And then he goes on to blast Macon. Wow. He really hated Macon.”
Oma placed her hand against the side of her face. “What have I done?”
“Stop that! You didn’t do anything wrong. I met someone. Zelda met a nice guy. Hey, even Ben met a girl that he likes. Can you believe that?”
“Ja? The Ben? This is truly amazing.”
“Randall was clearly a sourpuss. I doubt he had anything good to say about anyone.”
“And Macon might have murdered him. Perhaps I should not have brought Macon to Wagtail.”
“Oma, it’s not your fault that Randall and Macon had issues with each other. But now we know Macon had a motive. If we ask around, maybe we can find out where he was between the time we saw Randall on the plaza, after six, and the time John and I found his body, probably around ten o’clock that night.”
Oma nodded and stood up.
“And you go right ahead and enjoy Gustav’s company. I’ll watch the fort.” I knew it meant skipping dinner with John, but that was okay with me. I’d much rather see Oma be happy.
I checked my watch. Five o’clock already! I pulled up the schedule of events to see where Macon might be. Yappy Hour. Of course!
“C’mon, Trixie.” The inn was silent. But just outside the front door, the hooting and applause were loud. We joined the onlookers who watched from the porch.
The town had passed a special exception allowing people to drink in public during Yappy Hour. Oma had very reasonably decided not to serve dinner at the inn so guests would go out and enjoy all the town had to offer. The drinking exception allowed people to buy their cocktails elsewhere but enjoy the Yappy Hour parade from the best vantage point in town—the front porch of the Sugar Maple Inn.
I watched as proud dog and cat parents paraded with their four-legged friends. A few small dogs and one Great Dane wore tutus. At least two cats sported tiaras, and one bulldog waddled along in a top hat. I wondered how they had secured it to his head. Laura had joined the fun with Marmalade, who walked on a leash, oblivious to the dogs, but it looked to me like he had his eye on the cockatoo sitting on the shoulders of the dog who walked in front of them. As usual a few other species showed up. Miraculously, none of the dogs were eyeing the squirrel that perched on a man’s shoulder. The cat who rode a miniature horse got the most applause—or maybe it was for the cute horse who tolerated a cat on his back.
I spied Macon at the end of the porch with a small crowd of people. But before I could edge my way over to him, Huey bounded up to me, followed closely by Duchess.
“Hi! How did you like your boat ride?” I asked Huey.
He shook his body nose to tail, sending droplets of water all over.
I took that to mean he’d gone swimming too, and had a grand time.
Duchess was more demure about it and licked her wet fur.
Sky and Nessie laughed as they walked toward me with Lulu.
“Did you have fun?”
Sky’s phone rang, and she excused herself, but Nessie smiled and gestured dramatically. “It was a hoot. We pretended to fish so we could watch both of our girls on boats. Sky’s a little worried about Maddie. She thinks Maddie might have had too much to drink because she wasn’t acting like herself at all. Or worse—it could have been rohypnol. Honestly, it’s not like when we were young. These girls have to watch out for so many dangers! But we saw them make it safely back, so we know they survived their boating adventures this afternoon.”
Sky returned, pale as a ghost.
“Honey!” cried Nessie. “Is something wrong?”
“My sister has been trying to call me all afternoon. I can’t believe this. Her husband was murdered!”
Sixteen
Nessie gasped and slapped a hand against her chest. “Oh my word. What happened?”
“He was strangled. Right here in Wagtail.”
“Your brother-in-law was Randall Donovan?” I squeaked.
“You know about this?” Sky took off her fedora.
“He’s the guy who was mugged. The one Nessie was referring to earlier today. I didn’t know you were related to him. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my. I’m sorry too, Sky.” Nessie’s eyes narrowed. “What was your sister’s husband doing in Wagtail on a singles weekend?”
Sky sighed. “My sister didn’t even know he was coming here. She thought he was giving a talk in Boston. Then she received a phone call about his death out of the blue.”
“Ohhhh.” Nessie shook her head slowly. “That does not bode well for him. Lying to his wife is bad enough, but coming here right now, when there are a lot of single women? That just spells trouble. He was up to no good.”
Furrows worked their way onto Sky’s forehead. “I bet you’re right. Why else would he come here? He sure wasn’t a dog or cat kind of guy.”
“He was looking for someone yesterday. Someone participating in the matchmaking events. Do you know who that might have been?” I asked.
“I don’t have the first clue. But I’ll talk to my sister to see if she knows anything.”
Nessie snorted. “They never do. The wives are always the last to know about these things.”
“Will you be leaving?” I asked Sky.
“I haven’t decided yet. Apparently, his body has been shipped to the coroner in Roanoke for an autopsy, so there won’t be a funeral immediately. She’s going to call me back. As you can imagine, she’s in a state of shock. She never imagined that anything like this could happen. Randall was a very difficult man, but murdered? No one deserves that.”
“Come on, Sky. Let’s go up to our room.”
“Huey!”
I recognized Ben’s voice and turned.
Panting, he rushed toward the staircase. “Huey! Come with me,” he gasped.
Huey paid him no attention at all. He had already reached the landing on the stairs with Duchess and Lulu.
Sky and Nessie called him.
Huey looked at us but made no move to return down the stairs.
Ben was going to need a leash. I headed for Oma’s kitchen, where we kept extra leashes in case they were needed in a hurry. I brought it out to Ben. “What do you want Huey for?”
“You’re the one who told me I was ignoring him.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
Ben blinked and said somewhat sheepishly, “I want to give him a chance and get to know him.”
Sky had Huey by the collar and escorted him down the stairs to Ben.
I longed to believe Ben, but nothing in all the years I had known him led me to accept that response. Ben was a good guy. He would never hurt Huey. He just wasn’t an animal person. Still, he had requested a dog, and both of them deserved the chance to get to know each othe
r.
I watched him walk out of the inn with Huey before I skedaddled into the kitchen and prepared a pot of strong black tea for Sky and Nessie. I threw a white cloth over a room service cart and loaded it with cream, sugar, lemon slices, teacups, napkins, forks, spoons, and tiny plates. In the cooler, I found the leftover cream puffs, chicken salad, rolls, butter, and steak, which I carved into thin slices, arranged on top of lettuce, and garnished with savory olives and salty mini-pickles. It wasn’t much, but a little finger food might make them feel better. After one last glance at it, I added a vase of gladioli and dahlias.
I rolled the cart up to their room and knocked on the door. Sky was on the phone again, but Nessie thanked me for bringing them goodies. She tried to tip me, but I refused.
Trixie and I headed down the grand staircase. With everyone out to dinner or dressing to go out, the inn was quiet. That suited me fine because my head was reeling with the most awful thoughts. I liked Sky so much. She impressed me as a gentle and lovely person. Surely she couldn’t be the one responsible for Randall’s death.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I hadn’t called John. I rushed to the phone in the kitchen, pulled out his number, and dialed it. His line rang for a long time. Just as I was giving up, John answered the phone.
I explained that I had pulled inn duty and wouldn’t be able to have dinner with him.
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Maybe we could meet later for a drink?”
“I don’t think so. I’m bushed. But thanks anyway.” He hung up.
I frowned at the phone. “Now was that my imagination, or did I just get the brush-off?” I asked Trixie.
She ignored me and stared at the entrance to the hidden staircase.
“What is it?” I whispered. I hoped no one had hidden there.
Tiptoeing, I walked over to the door disguised as a bookcase. On the bottom shelf a pet door allowed Twinkletoes and Trixie to go home to our quarters if they felt like it.
Trixie growled softly, almost a hum.
An orange paw darted out at us.