Bow Wow Big House

by Addison Moore

  I try to think back. “I couldn’t tell.”

  The foyer suddenly fills with emergency medical workers and firemen, quickly followed by an entire legion of sheriff’s deputies.

  Jasper takes off to speak with them as a few of the men head over to where Siena lies and they do a rudimentary assessment of her.

  The light catches something in Siena’s hair, toward the end of it, and I squint trying to make it out.

  What is that glinting in her hair?

  A dislodged hairpin?

  I take a few steps closer. It looks almost copper in color, and I gasp once I see it for what it is.

  It’s that rose gold Claddagh ring Winnie was wearing. The one she nearly tore my dress off with.

  Funny.

  I didn’t notice it when I first looked down at Siena. But then, I was standing right over her. The lighting must be hitting it just right from this angle.

  A shiver runs through me as I head over to Jasper just as he’s finishing up a conversation with a man wearing a navy jacket that reads coroner.

  “Jasper, she has a ring in her hair.”

  “A what?” He glances back to where I’m pointing.

  “A ring. The same ring that was on Winnie Capris’ finger—or at least one just like it. We need to find Winnie and see if she’s still wearing the ring. She could be our killer.”

  Jasper’s lips curl a notch as he glances to the ballroom. “I’ll take care of this, Bizzy. You just—why don’t you head home? I’ll question you in the morning. Right now deputies are getting the names and numbers of the people here tonight and we’re escorting them all out through the back. I’m sorry, but this area and the second floor are off-limits.”

  “Okay. Sure. I’ll head into the ballroom and find my mom and sister—and Georgie and Emmie. I’ll make sure they leave their information and we’ll all head home.”

  “Good.” He pulls me in for another quick embrace and his familiar cologne circles me like an old friend. Jasper drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” I shudder up at him. “Good luck with the case. Don’t forget about the ring.”

  A slight comma-like dimple depresses just shy of his lip. “I won’t.”

  He takes a moment to watch as I leave.

  Why do I have a feeling her first stop will be to check out Winnie Capris to do an inspection of her fingers?

  Because he knows me by now.

  The ballroom is jam-packed with what looks to be twice as many bodies as there were before. And just as I’m about to step deeper into the room, Emmie and Georgie run over looking equally frantic.

  “What happened?” Emmie looks as frazzled as I feel.

  Georgie grabs me by the arm. “I heard you pushed her!”

  “Oh dear God.” I crane my neck into the crowd, looking for Winnie. “I didn’t push anybody. Camila showed up and—”

  “That’s where you went wrong.” Georgie wags a crooked finger my way. “You pushed the wrong girl, Bizzy!”

  “Emmie.” I shake my head at my best friend. “I can’t. Please take her home.” I spot my mom and sister putting on their jackets as if they were ready to leave. The back doors sit opened wide like wings against the expanse of a dark, chilly night. The snow is still sticking in this western part of town, and yet no one seems to mind the icy breeze knifing its way inside.

  Mom and Macy head this way.

  “Bizzy!” Mom pulls me in. “Your sister and I are leaving. Come with us.”

  “I’m still needed here,” I say it so quickly, I can’t tell myself if I’ve just blurted a lie. “Macy, make sure Mom gets home safe. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.”

  My sister nods as her eyes widen. “I knew it was a bad idea to host such an elegant event at a haunted house. I hear it’s hungry for souls, and there’s a murder here once a year on this very day.”

  “I knew it!” Georgie gives a solid clap. “They baited us all here just to serve us up as murderous appetizers.”

  I lean in. “Good Lord, who told you that haunted crockery?”

  My sister pumps her shoulders. “I did.”

  I watch as the three of them take off and I’m not too sorry to see them go. With all the rumors circulating, it’s probably best the room drains as quickly as possible.

  That brother and sister duo I saw earlier head this way, and I watch as they give their name to one of the sheriff’s deputies. I must admit, they still look odd in their proficient ode to the scarlet hue.

  Harry, the brother, looks handsome enough with his classically chiseled features, his clean-shaven face. His light brown hair is slicked back into a neat wave. He gives a quick glance around. We could have had it all, Siena. He swallows hard as if fighting back emotion. And now we will never know. You had to go and ruin everything. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  That was cryptic. And what’s with the victim blaming?

  His sister, Molly, gives a quick glance to the floor once she finishes up with the deputy, and something around her ankles makes her jump.

  It’s that adorable tan Chihuahua no bigger than my handbag. Instinctively, I head over and pick it up.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” I say as I turn its tag around and see the name Pickles printed across it in bold blue capital letters. “Pickles. Now that’s a fitting name for a cute little cucumber like you.”

  The woman who just did the tap dance routine gives a quick laugh. “It looks like you found a friend,” she teases. “And judging by the chaos, you might be stuck with him. He’s one of the rescue pets tonight. The only one, actually. The rest of the pets are here with their owners.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind getting stuck with this cutie pie,” I say. “I’m Bizzy Baker.” I extend my hand to the woman and she quickly shakes it. Her fingers are ice-cold and the poor thing is shaking so hard she has a hard time letting go.

  “Molly Dillinger. I work with Siena’s father. I’m terrified I’ll be the one that has to break the news to him. He’s in Italy at the moment. I’m sure he’ll catch the first flight back.”

  “I don’t envy you.” The tiny beast shivers in my arms, and I pull him close.

  Molly’s brother nods my way. “Harry,” he says. “I dated Siena.” He squeezes his eyes shut and I can see a seam of tears along his lids. “We need to get going.” Before I lose it and break everything in this place. How did I let it all fall to hell? And now look where it got us.

  The two of them speed out the door, talking as they disappear into the lot.

  “Hey, Pickles,” I whisper into his sweet tiny ear. “Just so you know, I can read your thoughts and understand you.”

  What’s this? He looks up with those big brown eyes and my heart melts. You can hear me?

  The tall blonde I saw arguing with Siena earlier tonight speeds past me and stops short before heading out into the icy air. She pulls out her phone and taps away at the screen.

  There. At least now he’ll know what’s done is done. She gives a quick glance around the room and something to her left steals her attention. Not so fast. I’m not letting you off the hook so easily. She speeds across the room and I watch as she meets up with a dark-haired man with a flat forehead, knotted lips as if he were genuinely grieving, or angry—and the two of them seem to jump into a rather animated exchange.

  “Here she is!” a woman cries out from behind, and I turn to find both Lucy Miller and Winnie Capris panting by my side.

  Winnie taps her chest with her hand and I quickly examine her fingers for a sign of that Claddagh ring, but there’s none to be had. My heart thumps unnaturally because I might just be looking at the killer.

  “That’s one of ours.” Winnie gives a mournful smile to the tiny pooch. “I can’t take him to my place. I have cats who hate people, let alone dogs, and I’m too freaked out to go to the shelter.”

  Lucy shakes her head. “I can’t do it. My mother is visiting and she’s prone to falls. She’ll trip just
by looking at him.”

  “I’ll take him to the inn,” I offer. “We have a pet daycare there. I’ll make sure he’s safe and well fed.” This is probably the part where I should volunteer to bring him back to the shelter, but I don’t have the heart to do it.

  Winnie takes in a quick breath. “Really?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you. This isn’t our usual protocol. But since you have the pet center at your site, I’d truly appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Bizzy?” Lucy takes my hand for a moment. “I realize we just met, but the rescue shelter needs your help.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can. Name it,” I say as I pull Pickles inches closer to me as if they might change their mind and try to snatch him away.

  Winnie gives him a quick scratch between his ears. “This might sound crass to bring up at the moment, but it looks like we won’t be able to host the adoption event at the rescue center. If we need a backup venue, can we use the inn?”

  “Oh yes. Not a problem. I can help take over some of the duties if you need me to and you can utilize my staff.”

  Winnie sniffs back tears. “Siena would have wanted the event to go on. All of the invitations have been sent, and the vendors can easily be rerouted to your place. I just hope the negative publicity this will generate won’t interfere with these animals finding new homes.”

  What negative publicity? Obviously, she knows Siena didn’t simply fall from the balcony. There was a murder here tonight, and judging by her ringless fingers, I might just be staring into the face of the killer.

  Lucy leans in. “Thank you, Bizzy. We’ll be in touch.”

  They leave through the opened doors behind me and I do the same.

  It’s murderously cold outside. Freezing to the point of insanity. I walk carefully through the snowy lot as I head toward my car and errant thoughts sail my way from the thick crowd spilling out around me. Unless I’m within range it’s impossible for me to know if it’s a male or female, but the inflection never seems to waver.

  It’s done. It’s really over.

  Siena is going to take her secrets to the grave.

  I wanted her quiet.

  I wanted her stopped.

  I need a stiff drink. Maybe I can sleep this entire nightmare off. Something tells me I’ll need a drink in order to sleep for as long as I live.

  I can’t believe I did that.

  I can’t believe I killed her.

  Chapter 4

  The Country Cottage Inn is toasty warm with a fire crackling in the grand room and the heater turned up just enough to keep the guests comfortable in the lobby and main arteries of the structure.

  A large tourist group just finished the checkout process where both of my assistants, Grady and Nessa, helped with every last detail. Both Grady and Nessa are recent college grads who are using the inn as a stepping stone until they can figure out whatever it is they want to do with the rest of their lives. Or at least that’s what they keep telling me. I’ll be sad to see either one of them go.

  Grady is a dark-haired Irish prince who has the ability to charm any and everyone. And Nessa is a dark-haired beauty herself who happens to also be related to Emmie. But all quasi-nepotism aside, Nessa is a top-notch employee who has the grace and hospitality skills necessary to work in this environment.

  And, of course, I’ve got my usual greeters next to the reception counter. Fish, my sweet cat, that I found outside of Macy’s shop, Lather and Light, several months ago. Fish is a longhaired black and white tabby with enough sass to set both the world and perhaps her tail on fire. And there’s Jasper’s cute pooch, Sherlock Bones, a loveable, freckled mixed breed, about medium build who would no sooner bite anyone than he would lick them to death. And today, I’ve brought along a special friend, that adorable Chihuahua from the shelter, Pickles.

  Fish gives Pickles a quick swipe, then she quickly hops on his back and turns him over, inducing a snarling, groaning, moaning conniption on Pickles’ part.

  Grady shakes his head at the commotion. “I think one of them needs to head to Critter Corner.”

  Nessa nods. “Yup. That’s where Peanut is and he loves it.” Peanut is the small mixed breed puppy Nessa adopted a few months back after its owner was killed in a brutal homicide.

  “Hear that?” I ask as I pick Fish up and give Pickles the peace the poor baby deserves. “You keep harassing our guest, and it’s Critter Corner for you.”

  Who’s harassing? I was just sassing. Apparently, only us girls understand the difference. Fish’s golden eyes enlarge. She’s always sounded a bit like a teenage girl to me, and it only endears me to her more. All I wanted to do was play with the poor pup. It’s not my fault he doesn’t have a friendly bone in his body, she moans it out in one long yowl.

  Pickles squints over at her as if he were shooting her an icy look. I’m plenty friendly. Just ask my bacon-loving friend.

  Sherlock lets out a soft bark as if to affirm this.

  I’m not sure how they do it, but even the briefest vocalization allows them to understand one another. And most of the time they actually have nice things to say to each other. Most of the time being the operative phrase.

  And Pickles isn’t wrong about Sherlock’s bacon obsession, but I might be the one to blame for that. I can’t help it. I always make sure Jasper’s breakfast order has more than enough pork belly for the two of them.

  Nessa holds out her arms. “Should I take Fish? I’m sure Peanut would love to see her.”

  Fish jumps right out of my arms and out the front door. She knows her way around the grounds, and I never worry about her not coming home.

  Nessa belts out a short-lived laugh. “I take it that’s a no.”

  “She misses Peanut, but she has no intention of getting trapped in Critter Corner. She likens it to prison.”

  Nessa shakes her head. “Well, Peanut loves it. He wags his curly little tail going in and he wags it coming out. Which reminds me, we really need to set up a play date with those two.”

  Sherlock lets out a sharp bark.

  “It sounds like Sherlock wants in, too,” I add. “We all need a little more Peanut in our lives.”

  Another small crowd heads in through the door, and along with them is Georgie Conner, the woman who has been known to hold together my sanity by way of a lack of her own. I couldn’t love Georgie more if she was related to me.

  “Bizzy Baker!” She snaps her fingers over her head and dances her way in my direction.

  Grady and Nessa help with the guests at the register while I pick up Pickles and meet Georgie halfway.

  “Guess what?” Georgie has a cheeky look on her already cheeky-looking face.

  “What?” I ask. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Sherlock gives her leg a quick swipe with his paw. I bet she’s got bacon in her pocket just for me.

  I’m about to tell him that most people usually don’t carry greasy breakfast foods in their pockets, but Georgie promptly proves me wrong, and not only does she produce a piece, but she breaks it up for both Sherlock and Pickles to enjoy.

  A husky growl of a laugh emits from Georgie’s throat. “Grandma Georgie will never let you down, boys.” Her blue eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “Speaking of boys, that brings me to my next point.”

  “Is your next point the thing that put a spring in your step? Because I can’t remember the last time you were this chipper.”

  “Don’t you know it.” She pulls out her phone and wags the sea glass encrusted phone case my way—one of her many sea glass creations. She figures what better way to showcase her work than to have it on hand—literally everywhere she goes. She’s also been commissioned by the city to do a mosaic mural along a small stretch of Main Street. She’s already done a portion of it, and it’s a masterpiece that includes a pictorial of our cozy seaside town.

  “Well?” I ask as I wave Pickles’ paw over at her. “We’re on pins and pickles. W
hat is it?”

  “A dating app,” Georgie flatlines. “And before you go and poo-poo it, I want you to know it’s changed my life, missy.”

  “A dating app?” I try hard to digest this. “How and why has this changed your life, Georgie? Please tell me you haven’t met someone and gone on an actual date.”

  “You bet your rootin’-tootin’ cute little hiney I’ve gone on a date. What good’s a dating app if I can’t get a meal and a good time deal out of it?”

  I gasp at the thought. “Dear God, they could be deranged killers. You’re lucky you still have all your limbs attached. Promise me you won’t go off with some nutcase you meet off that thing. Macy subscribes to twelve of those apps and she’s assured me the men she meets are only after one thing.”

  Sherlock tips his head to the side. Bacon?

  Georgie rolls her eyes. “I don’t need a translator to know what the big guy said.” She empties her pocket of bacon and I set Pickles on the ground so he can muscle his way to his share. “And yes, I went on a shiny new date just last night.” She says the word date with air quotes, and my level of alarm just went up twelve degrees. “And heads-up. Macy is right. No sooner did a five-foot-five stack of atrophied muscles come a knocking with his cane at seven o’clock last night—he was once six-foot-two and has the pictures to prove it, but osteoporosis set in and the rest is spinal compression history—anyway, great news! He spent the night!”

  I gasp again and nearly inhale that phone of hers—shards of glass and all. “Are you insane? He could have hacked you to death by way of one of those broken bottles you have lying around. He could have given you ten different communicable diseases. Dear God, we need to get you to the vet and have you vaccinated. When was the last time you had your rabies shot?”

  “I’m not laughing.” Her lids flutter with disdain.

  “I’m not being funny.”

  “Relax, Biz.” She frowns over at me. “He literally just spent the night. It turns out, seven o’clock was too late for him. It was a half hour past his bedtime. So while I was giving him a tour of my cottage, once we got to the bedroom, he fell right over and passed out.” She makes a face. “I thought he was dead.”