Hoppy Holiday Homicide (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 9)

by Molly Fitz

  With one last lingering glance toward the poor people who had come to enjoy the Holiday Spectacular but had ended up as dead as grandma after she got ran over by the reindeer, I took a deep centering breath and returned to my cousin. “We need to find Officer Bouchard and let him know there’s been a murder.”

  Mags cried out as if in physical pain. “Really? A murder? Here? But, but… everyone seems so nice.”

  I frowned as I tried to remember a time when I had been so innocently optimistic. Never, I thought. I’d always been too bookish not to be at least somewhat suspicious of the world around me. I used to consider myself paranoid, but that was before bodies started piling up whenever I was near.

  Mags stared at me with wide eyes as she waited for an answer that wouldn’t come. She wanted me to take it back, to make everything okay again, but I simply couldn’t.

  Instead, I nodded. “Yes, unfortunately. Actually, there’s been two. And we have to get the police. Now.”

  I dropped Octo-Cat into the snow and grabbed Mags by the hand, yanking her along as I wound my way back through the spiral garden.

  Octo-Cat followed behind on his leash, yelling the most profane kitty curses that had ever spilled off his sandpaper tongue. He could be angry for all I cared. Some things were more important than following the many elaborate and contradictory rules he’d established to govern our lives.

  Besides, unlike Paisley, he always landed on his feet.

  I wasn’t quite so sure Mags and I would be as lucky, especially when a dark figure swept across the quiet garden moving quickly and coming straight for us.

  Chapter Five

  The dark figure drew closer, but still not close enough for me to make out his features or intent.

  Mags yanked out of my hold and stopped cold, seemingly unsure of whether to run, hide, or do some strange combination of both. Instead of doing either, she stood a couple paces before me, frozen like a shocked deer on a lonely country road.

  I braced myself for the worst and turned around to get a good look at the new arrival. His silver badge flashed brilliantly in the sunlight, set against a dark blue uniform shirt. He continued to close the distance between us quickly, concern pinching at his features. Not a threat. Not a threat at all.

  “Officer Bouchard,” I cried, elated that he had found us and realizing that maybe I was still a bit paranoid, after all.

  Mags visibly relaxed and took a tentative step toward us.

  “I heard screams,” he said, moving his hand to the gun at his hip. “Is everything okay here?”

  Mags’s face reddened as she tried to push an entire dictionary’s worth of words from her mouth at once. “Oh, it’s horrible. There’s blood. Lots of blood. Angie saw bodies. She said there’s two. People died. And I don’t know who they were or who killed them. But it’s so scary. Things like this never happen back home in Larkhaven. Aunt Linda says trouble won’t find you unless you go looking for it yourself. But I swear, we just wanted to enjoy the festival. And now Angie is acting like it's up to us to figure out what happened here. I don’t know who the victims are. I don’t know who the killer is. I don’t know anything other than I think I need to go home.” Finally finished, her voice cracked, and Mags drew back into herself.

  Officer Bouchard stayed on high alert. “Whoa there, slow down. Start by telling me who you are and how you discovered the bodies.”

  I placed a hand on Mags’s shoulder to let her know that I could handle things from here. “Go get some latkes or more cocoa or gingerbread cookies, or something. I’ll catch Officer Bouchard up on what we discovered.”

  “Should I go with her, Mommy?” Paisley asked from somewhere near my ankle.

  “Mags,” I called after her. “Take Paisley with you.”

  The little dog took off running and also barking, though for no apparent reason.

  I watched until Mags scooped her into a cuddle, then I turned back to the waiting policeman. “Let me show you what we found.”

  As we walked the short distance to the hulking Christmas tree sculpture and the bodies that lay behind it, I informed Officer Bouchard of the no-show judges and the last-minute change up that required Mags and me to take their places. I also explained that Mags was my cousin visiting from Georgia.

  “I didn’t know you had family in Georgia,” he said, tilting his head to study me as we walked.

  “Neither did we. At least not until a couple months ago. Anyway, here’s the crime scene.” I motioned toward the bodies, even though he couldn’t have missed them if he’d been blind in one eye and couldn’t see out the other.

  “Are we done now?” Octo-Cat groused. “I know your imagination’s already running wild with a hundred thousand ideas of who done it and why. But I heard that the Little Dog Diner has a booth set up somewhere around here, and Octavius needs himself a lobster roll.”

  It took all the strength not to roll my eyes at this expression of my cat’s misplaced priorities. Thankfully, I think I managed to pull it off. Studying the melting ice weapon, I asked the officer, “Do you know who they are?”

  Officer Bouchard hooked his thumbs through his beltloops and rocked on his heels. “Can’t see the woman’s face, but the man I recognize as Fred Hapley. He sells health insurance all across the state, and I’m pretty sure he’s one of the missing judges you mentioned. If memory serves, he was also a last-minute addition.”

  My breaths rose in icy little puffs as I thought about where we should take things from here. “My mom should be able to confirm it and let us know who the other judge was supposed to be and whether this is her. She’s not technically on the planning committee, but she’ll have memorized the setup before coming out as part of planning her news piece. Should I call her over?”

  Officer Bouchard sucked air through his teeth. “Not just yet, if you don’t mind. Your mother’s a good woman and an ace reporter, but I need some time to investigate and call in backup before the press gets involved. You understand, don’t you?”

  I nodded vigorously. No one understood my mother’s drive to get the story at any cost better than I did. “What are you going to do when festivalgoers start coming through the sculpture garden?” I asked, worried we’d end up creating a scene whether or not we wanted one.

  He quirked one eyebrow. “You said you and your cousin are the new judges, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then why don’t you get her back here? And you two can guard the entrance so that nobody wanders inside.”

  “There’s an exit, too,” I pointed out, searching for that red ribbon the sign had mentioned.

  “Well, that’s perfect then,” he said with a grin. “There are two ways in, and there are two of you. I shouldn’t need long, but I sure do appreciate your help in keeping this under wraps.”

  “Okay, let me go find Mags,” I said, hating to leave before we’d figured out much of anything.

  “Finally,” Octo-Cat grumbled. “I’m starving. I may have even lost a life because of it. I can’t believe you’ve made me wait so long for my lobster roll.”

  Little did he know his lobster roll was not even close to next on our agenda. I had to find Mags, and then I had to find out what had happened to the slain judge and the as-of-yet unidentified body.

  Chapter Six

  I found Mags at the latke stall, pushing potato pancakes dipped in applesauce into her mouth almost faster than she could chew them.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming back so soon,” she mumbled with one hand covering her mouth politely. “Otherwise, I would have saved you some.” Her face turned red with embarrassment. “I’m a nervous eater, you see. These things didn’t stand a chance.”

  I laughed and shook my head, happy to see her at least a little more relaxed than she’d been a few minutes back. “No judgment here. We have to get back to help Officer Bouchard, anyway.”

  Mags tossed her trash into a nearby canister and wiped her mouth with the side of her hand. “Are you sure we have to go back
there? I don’t know if this kind of thing happens often here, but I’m not used to dead bodies turning up back home in Georgia.” She said this with more of a Southern twang than usual, no doubt longing for the safety of good ol’ reliable Larkhaven.

  “Well, it’s kind of my job as a P.I.,” I explained with a shrug. “Although it's not always murder. Sometimes I deal with other kinds of crooks, too.”

  “But can’t we just enjoy the Holiday Spectacular? You’ve told me so much about it, and I’ve been looking forward to this part of our visit. Plus, you might not be scared that there’s a murderer on the loose, but I sure am. Maybe we can make a quick circuit and then get the heck out of here.”

  I looped my arm through my cousin’s and marched back with her toward the ice sculpture garden. “We just need to do this one quick thing to help out Officer Bouchard, and then we’ll get back to the festivities, I promise.”

  “Where’s my lobster roll?” Octo-Cat whined, then growled, then sighed in defeat. “Unhook me from this hideous torture device, and I’ll go grab one for myself, seeing as you’re proving to be rather useless today.”

  Paisley growled from deep within her throat. “Don’t talk to Mommy that way. She’s busy being a superhero, and it's our job to be her sidekicks.”

  Octo-Cat tensed on the end of his leash. He definitely thought of himself as the Sherlock to my Watson, so Paisley’s suggestion that I was the one in charge was sure to rankle.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” he said with a sneer, “she’s pretending we’re not even here. So, why do we owe her anything when there’s really no way to help?”

  Now it was Paisley who whined as her prick ears fell back against her neck while her tail went between her legs. “Just because it's not easy doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

  “Oh, dear sweet dogling, you have so much to learn. For starters, the best life should always be easy and also filled with sunspots and Evian and my long overdue lobster roll.”

  Hard as it was to not jump into that particular conversation, I kept my eyes glued straight ahead and my feet focused on returning to the crime scene as quickly as possible.

  Mags seemed to wilt more and more the closer we drew to the garden.

  “Sorry for dragging you into this,” I offered with an apologetic smile. “But it will be over soon. He just needs the area secured until backup can arrive.”

  We reached the sculpture of a crystalline rose that marked the start of the spiral viewing trail. I left Mags there and headed toward the exit.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” she called after me, trembling uncertainty returning to her voice.

  “I’ll just be over there, keeping an eye on the exit. If you take a few steps out onto the street, you’ll even be able to see me,” I explained calmly. “Text if you need anything, even if it's just to chat and pass the time. We’ll be finished up here before you know it, and then we can let the police handle the rest. Okay?”

  Mags nodded, but a row of worry lines stretched across her normally smooth forehead. “Great. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’d really rather just find Nan and go home as soon as we’re able. I don’t feel so safe anymore.”

  As much as I loved the Holiday Spectacular, I loved my cousin so much more and wanted her to leave Blueberry Bay with happy memories instead of horrible ones. I’d do whatever it took to salvage our holiday.

  “That’s okay,” I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll make our own fun. How do fresh-baked cookies and a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie sound for tonight?”

  Mags smiled bravely and bobbed her head. “Sounds like a plan, Ms. Pet Whisperer P.I.”

  I chuckled as I walked away to take my place at the garden exit. First, though, I dipped into the center to let Officer Bouchard know Mags and I were on duty. Once I’d returned to the end of that red ribbon trail, I pulled out my phone and opened a group text with my mom and dad.

  There’s been a murder in the ice sculpture garden.

  Officer Bouchard is securing the scene while Mags and I make sure no one wanders in.

  After that, we’re going to head home.

  Mags is feeling a bit scared by everything.

  Can you guys see that Nan gets home okay?

  I asked in a series of fast texts.

  Both my parents texted back immediately.

  “Are you serious?” Mom’s read.

  “Are you safe?” Dad asked.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, “but I also don’t think we’ll be able to finish our judging duties before heading home.”

  “Poor Mags,” Mom lamented with a frowny face emoji. “This is not the best introduction to our quiet corner of the world.”

  Although I didn’t say it, I actually thought it was the perfect way to show my new cousin how life had been for us lately. Ever since I first met that snarky talking tabby a year and half ago, my entire life had been one danger, one investigation after the next.

  Thanks to us, crime didn’t pay around these parts, but apparently it also didn’t rest. Not even for the holidays.

  An incoming call lit up my screen. This one was from Nan. “What’s this I hear about you and Mags leaving early?” she demanded, though her voice remained cheerful.

  “Well, the murders kind of cramp the style of our Holiday Spectacular,” I explained in a whisper, making sure none of the people further down the block heard.

  “Well, that’s really too bad. Could you do me a quick favor and ask Mags if I can get her anything from the artist’s corner? I’m sure she’d at least like a souvenir or two. Right?”

  I heard a deep voice speaking faintly on the other end but couldn’t make out the words. “Who’s there with you, Nan?”

  “Just my friend, Mr. Milton,” she answered dismissively. “Now, can you ask Mags about those souvenirs for me, please?”

  “Sure, I’ll check with her in a little bit. Right now, we’re guarding the crime scene, and there are two different entrances. It’s not a very good time to—”

  “You’re at the ice sculpture garden. Aren’t you? That place isn’t very big. Just run over and ask her so that I know.”

  I sighed but still followed her instructions. There was little point in arguing with Nan when she wanted something—especially something quick and relatively easy like this.

  Clutching my phone tightly in one hand and Octo-Cat beneath my other arm, I power walked over to the front entrance of the garden with Paisley following close at my heels. I was just rounding the corner when I caught sight of Mags.

  Her eyes were wide, and her fair features looked even paler than usual as a hooded figure dragged her into the back of a cargo van, slammed the door, and sped away…

  Chapter Seven

  I dropped everything I’d been holding into the fresh snowbank at the side of the road and took off running after the van.

  “Even though I land on my feet, it still hurts to be dropped, you know,” Octo-Cat shouted after me.

  But I had no time to respond. I put everything I had into following that van even though I knew I’d never be able to catch it on foot. Perhaps I would still be able to make out the license plate or catch a glimpse of the driver, something, anything to keep me connected with Mags.

  I squinted hard at the departing vehicle, trying so hard. I didn’t wear glasses, but I’d always been a bit nearsighted due to my obsession with reading. And unfortunately for Mags now, I couldn’t make out a single digit beneath the dried mud that coated the plate.

  I stopped running and bent over with my hands on my knees, gasping for breath while Paisley continued to run and bark up a storm drawing the curious stares of all who were near.

  “Get back here, you bad guy!” the Chihuahua shouted. “It's not nice to take people when they don’t want to be taken. Bad human, bad, bad.”

  Once I caught my breath a little, I scanned the downtown area for Octo-Cat but came up short. Maybe he’d gone to get that lobster roll after
all, or maybe he was off somewhere nursing his wounded pride—both at having been dropped so unceremoniously into the snow and at having been forced to wear the harness he so loathed.

  A burst of bright pink flashed onto the scene. Nan had arrived, and unlike me, she didn’t appear winded in the slightest.

  “You dropped this,” she said, pushing my fallen phone into my hand. “And you worried me silly. What happened?”

  I couldn’t help the tears that splashed onto my cheeks. It was one thing to find the bodies of people I’d never know and quite another to witness my cousin’s kidnapping firsthand. It had been my job to look after her, to take care of her. And I’d really messed it up.

  “They took Mags,” I said, my voice trembling in the same way hers had upon the discovery of the bodies in the ice sculpture garden. “They took her, and they’re gone.” Fresh tears welled, and I choked back a sob as Nan wrapped her arms around me and made a soft shushing sound.

  “Oh, dear. Dear. Dear. Dear,” she repeated like a chant.

  Her gentleman friend moved closer and placed a hand on Nan’s shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed his arrival earlier, but now here he was, pushing his way into this family moment.

  “Who took her?” he asked in a deep rumble.

  “I don’t know.” I kept my eyes on Nan instead of looking toward Mr. Milton. “I couldn’t see the face, but they put her into the back of a white van and drove away. I didn’t even get the license plate number.”

  “Well, that’s a rotten thing to do and not with keeping the spirit of the season either,” Nan mumbled into my hair. “But we’ll get her back, I promise.”

  I fell apart in my grandmother’s arms, asking her the many frantic questions that swirled through my mind. “What if it was the same people who killed the judges? What if they’re going to kill her, too? It's all my fault. She doesn’t even know anyone here. I don’t understand. Why would they take her? I mean, why would anyone want to take Mags, especially someone who doesn’t even know her?”