We Woof You a Deadly Christmas

by Laura Quinn

  A few moments later, the hostess returned with a tray filled with two cups of whip-cream laden, cocoa-dusted hot chocolate, a bowl of cold water, and a selection of Christmas cookies.

  “I know dogs can’t have chocolate, and they shouldn’t have sugar, but I thought maybe he could share one or two of these.”

  “You’re so thoughtful. Of course, he’ll be delighted to have one.”

  Baron hammed it up by sitting with his classic begging pose, transforming his already deep brown eyes into soulful infinity pools. He offered his paw in exchange for one of the sugar cookies.

  “He is the sweetest thing,” Betty said. “Exactly what I needed tonight; this has been a horrific ordeal.”

  “I’m so sorry. Were you close?”

  “Ruth moved here about five years ago, not long after I did. We were friends, at least we were…” Betty pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and buried her face in it, sobbing. Baron moved next to her and rested his head on her knee.

  “Oh, you sweet, sweet dog,” Betty said, stroking the soft fur for several minutes as her breathing regulated. “I’m sorry I’m such a wreck.”

  “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I understand you called the police?”

  “Yes, I should have called earlier, but,” Betty hesitated, then lowered her eyes. “I didn’t tell the police this, but I was trying my best to avoid Ruth. I volunteered to work an extra shift at the woman’s shelter Sunday to stay away. I feel so badly about what happened, and I was too embarrassed to tell the officer.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but did it have anything to do with the gaudy antique contest?”

  Betty’s eyes welled up with tears again, and crimson spread across her face.

  “Yes,” she said, tears now falling freely. “She was so angry with me, and called me such terrible names.”

  “I’m sure it was a simple misunderstanding. The stress of retirement was probably agitating her.”

  “Do you think so?” Betty’s sobs turned to sniffles. “It was supposed to be a fun surprise for her; I was going to tell her as soon as the winners were chosen. She might have won a gift certificate, you see. I didn’t even think she would miss it, but as soon as she came home Sunday, she was livid. She called me a thief and threatened to call the police. I didn’t know what to say. She was always so friendly.”

  “Letting her cool off was a wise choice,” Claire said, patting Betty’s hand. “I’m sure she wasn’t really angry with you. Stress can make people lash out at anyone who happens to be in their path.”

  “I feel so guilty. What if I caused her to have a heart attack? Do you know if that’s what it was?”

  “I don’t think they know yet, and even if it was, I’m sure it had nothing to do with your little misunderstanding.”

  “If I had only called the police earlier, though, maybe they could have saved her.”

  Claire spotted a box of tissues on an end table and brought it to Betty. “It probably happened very quickly; I don’t think you could have done anything to save her. At least you saved her dignity. If you hadn’t alerted the police, who knows when she would have been laid to rest.”

  “Do you think so?” Betty asked, her face streaked with makeup.

  “Yes, I do. I wish I had a neighbor like you; people rarely interact with each other anymore. You took care of her cats while she was away, tried to win a gift certificate for her, and were concerned enough to know something was wrong and did something about it.”

  “I was worried, because the bird feeder was still empty last night. Ruth filled it every morning without fail. She loved the wild birds; I can still picture her walking through the neighborhood with her binoculars. I joined her on a birding walk once, but she said I made too much noise and scared the birds away. I’ve always been chatty; I can’t help myself.”

  “I bet the cats enjoyed the bird show outside their window.”

  “I never thought of that,” Betty said, brightening slightly. “I’ll get the maintenance crew to put up one of those bird feeders that attaches to the window tomorrow. I already have boxes in the front and back yards, but now they’ll have birds upstairs too. I’m so glad you said that.”

  “Speaking of the cats, I brought a little gift for them. I didn’t know what they might like, so I brought a sampling of treats and toys.”

  Betty smiled as she looked through the bag. “You’re so kind. Where did you get these? I’ll need to start shopping there now.”

  “It’s my shop, The Posh Pup. Despite the name, cats are welcome and we have plenty in stock for them. Here’s one of my cards, if you want to stop by. Baron would love to see you again.”

  Betty took the card and posted it on her refrigerator with a “Keep Calm and Bowl On” magnet. She looked at it for a few moments before reheating the pot of reserve cocoa.

  “I think I saw your shop. You’re next to the antique store running the contest, aren’t you?” she asked.

  Claire nodded as Betty refilled the cups with the steaming beverage, topped with more whipped cream. Baron took the opportunity to beg a small plate of whipped cream for himself.

  “My friend Deloris and I were there Saturday for the contest,” Betty continued. “She went to shop for her corgi while we waited. She even brought a cup of hot cocoa for me. She’s very thoughtful.”

  Claire choked when she realized Betty was talking about the Dill Pickle; no wonder she thought Ruth was so friendly. In comparison to Deloris, the Abominable Snowman would seem cheery. “Yes, I knew Nurse Dill from my school days here.”

  “Just between us, I think Deloris is attracted to the antique store owner. He is very handsome.” Betty’s cheeks blushed. “But married, and his wife is so very kind.”

  “Oh, yes, he’s a real charmer,” Claire said, fighting to keep her eyes from rolling. “Did you happen to see him again? I know he sometimes makes home visits.”

  “No, I only met him that one time, and just for a few minutes. Deloris had much more to talk to him about, so I let her go ahead. I had such a nice chat with his wife while I waited. She told me, in confidence, mind you, that she thought Ruth’s piece might be chosen as a winner.” Betty pulled out another tissue. “I told Ruth that, but she was still furious with me.”

  “When I saw Ruth Sunday afternoon, she was so vivacious. In fact, she was very excited about the contest.” While the word excited may have been a euphemism, it wasn’t technically a lie.

  “Really?” Betty dabbed her eyes and looked up. “Maybe she had forgiven me. Oh, I do hope so.”

  This time, Claire flat out lied. “I’m sure she had.”

  “That makes me feel so much better. I hated to think that she was still angry with me when she went to heaven. Maybe she even knew that I stopped by to see her Sunday night.”

  “Wasn’t she in?”

  “The television was on, but she didn’t answer the door. I should have known something was wrong, because she never was one to waste electricity.” Betty described Ruth’s Sunday night regiment, as only a small-town neighbor could. She watched the news while she ate dinner, then walked it off on her treadmill during her favorite reality show. Then, she turned off the TV and read the latest spy book.

  “She always strived to keep her mind and body active.” Betty pulled out another tissue and sobbed. “Oh, to think she was lying there, helpless. I could have helped her.”

  “We don’t know exactly when she died. It was probably peacefully, during her sleep that night,” Claire speculated. “Maybe she didn’t hear the door when you rang. Or, maybe she just wasn’t up to seeing visitors.”

  “No, I don’t think so. The football game was on. You can see the television clearly through the entry window; the screen must be at least five feet wide.”

  “Well, that explains it. People get completely immersed in sports, especially football.”

  “No, that’s just it. Ruth hated sports. Some of the high school athletes would stop to visit her, to do the lawn and other job
s, but she complained about them all the time. She said the school spent far too much on its sports programs. Even when the team did so well, she said the whole thing was a farce.”

  “Well, that does seem odd.”

  “That’s why I think she must have collapsed before her reality show was over.” Betty sniffed several times, then blew her nose. “She was so good at remembering all the contestants’ backstories and alliances and she would predict what they would do by the most insignificant comment or gesture. I told her she should work as a private investigator when she retired.”

  “Was she thinking of another career? I understood she had additional income streams.”

  “We didn’t discuss money, though she said she planned to travel and enjoy the rest of her life. I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but retirement funds don’t stretch as far as you think.”

  “It sounds like she was in good health, then,” Claire thought aloud.

  “Oh, she was in excellent health. Just last week, she was up on a ladder, installing a solar-powered security light. She always took such good care of her home, but lately, she was on a mission to improve the outdoors.”

  “Do you think she was planning to sell her house after she retired?”

  “I wondered that myself,” Betty said. “I was watching a show on HGTV and one of the experts was talking about the value of a good security system. In fact, it was when I triggered that new light of hers last night that I realized there were no tire tracks or even footprints. I knew then that something was definitely wrong and called the police.”

  She paused to dry her eyes before continuing her story. She explained that Ruth always walked to the end of her drive to put out food for a feral cat. She never missed a day, unless she made other arrangements. Baron comforted Betty as she broke down into tears again while describing the scene after the police and paramedics arrived.

  Claire changed the subject to talk about Baron and how she came to adopt him. Betty was disgusted by the attorney who had imported the eight-week-old puppy from Germany to impress a girlfriend before subsequently dumping both. Claire pulled up Baron’s baby photos on her phone for full effect; they never failed. Noticing Betty’s color returning, she continued with stories about rescue groups that came to her shop.

  “I’m glad to hear that. When my late husband and I lived in Barrington Hills, we adopted all sorts of animals. With ten acres, there was plenty of room for them to run. I thought this place was too small for pets, but when I heard Ruth’s cats would be taken to the pound, I didn’t hesitate to take them. I think they’ll have a happy life here.”

  “If you’re up to it, come to our Bark the Halls event Saturday. There will be a guitar player singing carols, Santa Paws taking photos, crafters, local shelters, raffles, and refreshments. It’s an open house, from six until nine o’clock. Baron will be there in his holiday finest.”

  Hearing his name, the furry guest raised his head and yawned.

  “Poor thing, he must be exhausted. I’m sorry to keep you so late, but it’s been so wonderful having you both. You really cheered me up.”

  “We enjoyed our visit and hope to see you Saturday night.” Claire signaled to Baron, who got up, stretched, and licked Betty’s hand. “He says you’ve been an excellent host.”

  Betty reached over to pet her new furry friend, then walked them to the door. “I’ll see you Saturday,” she promised.

  At home, Claire ate a carton of yogurt for a late dinner, wrote up her notes from the visit with Betty, and caught up on some paperwork. Baron fell asleep on the couch while the cats, having just awakened from a long winter’s nap, raced around and swatted discarded prints across the parquet floor.

  “I should sell these at the shop,” Claire said, tossing a new crumpled paper into the air. Hercule outreached his sister, and batted it down the hall. Penny jumped up to snatch another paper marvel and knocked down Claire’s notebook. It fell open to her notes about Ruth’s television being on, prompting Claire to think about the timeline. “If Mr. Prescott did visit, wouldn’t she turn off the television? Or, maybe she muted it. I suppose the police didn’t note that.” The cats had abandoned her, chasing a red flannel mouse.

  Chapter 7

  Thursday, December 7th

  “Woof!” By Baron’s tone, Claire knew a friend was waiting outside the shop. She turned off the mixer and hustled to the front door. Seeing it was Lana standing outside Prescott Antiques, she poured a cup of peppermint mocha coffee and took it out to her.

  “You’re an angel,” Lana cooed. Her tone changed as she glared at the closed sign in the antique shop’s door, then down at her Cartier watch. “I really don’t understand how they expect to conduct business in this manner.”

  “Mrs. Prescott is always punctual. Perhaps her husband is opening the store today. They’ve been inundated with that new promotion they launched, so…”

  “Do you know how many promotions I’ve launched? I would never allow something so trivial to interrupt my…” Lana stopped herself. “Pardonnez-moi. I’m a bit on edge since I turned my pearls over to that man for repair. His eyes have haunted me; they look, well they look comme un diable. I know that sounds silly, and the necklace is only worth a few thousand, but it has such sentimental worth. I should have waited for my jeweler to return to town. I just want to make sure it’s okay before my weekend in California.”

  “I’m sure your necklace is fine,” Claire said, desperately hoping that was true. “Mrs. Prescott is a saint, and she always tells me what a good job her husband does.” It was the best she could do, never trusting the cantankerous Mr. Prescott herself. “Why don’t you come in and sip your coffee while you wait? Baron would love to see you.”

  As Lana turned to leave, Mrs. Prescott opened the store. The socialite marched in to demand the status of her repair order.

  Five minutes later, Claire’s shop door was flung open by Lana in mid-rant. “I mean, do you believe it? That ruddy little man said he would call me by ten o’clock today with an update, and now he isn’t even there.” Her nostrils flared as she continued, “That simpering woman tried to cover for him, telling me how busy he is with that new blasted promotion. She apologized for being late, having to pick up extra copies of the newspaper this morning. It just won’t do. You’re from that publicity world, you understand.”

  “Yes, I do,” Claire agreed, hoping she didn’t find out that the blasted promotion was her idea. “They’re new business owners. They’ll learn.”

  “They had better, if they want to remain business owners. Now she tells me that with the unexpected influx of business, my necklace won’t be done until next week. Can you believe it? I’m all for new businesses promoting themselves, but really.” Lana slammed her Birkin bag on the counter.

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right,” Claire agreed, surreptitiously bringing out a peanut butter ice cream cup for Lana to give to Baron. Cuddly canine intervention was required, and quickly.

  The Baron effect worked immediately. Lana asked for another cup of coffee and sat down to pet Baron. He rolled on his back for full effect. Claire brought out the JP basket, which was met with enthusiastic approval. Lana especially liked the sugarless sugar cookies shaped as ice skates, celebrating the town’s annual ice rink.

  “I haven’t tried skating since a tres embarrassing escapade in Rockefeller Plaza with my husband, of course then he was still my boyfriend,” Lana said. “I was a Rockette then, and planned to dazzle him with my grace and athleticism on ice. Instead, I fell ever so ungracefully on my derriere,” she said, laughing so heartily, she was barely able to finish the story of how he tripped trying to rescue her, sending both to the emergency room. “Maybe I’ll buy one of those extra-puffy full-length coats and go with you next week.”

  Lana was still laughing as she entered her car, with Claude surreptitiously flashing a thumb’s up signal to Claire through the window. Baron earned himself another treat for his damage control. Claire might have forgotten the matter, had i
t not been for Delilah’s arrival later that day, looking more pale than usual.

  With a raspy voice, the elder woman asked, “Claire, do you have a moment? I want to ask your advice.”

  “Sure, why don’t you come in back and I’ll get you a cup of tea?”

  “No, I can’t stay long. Donald is leaving soon. I told him I had to get change.” She stood clutching the cash bag, looking at her feet.

  “Is this about Lana?” Claire prompted. “We talked it out and she’s much calmer now. I think it will be fine.”

  “Oh dear, I didn’t realize she was that upset. Donald arrived just after she left. I thought I saw her in with you, but he said he would call her later. He’s been so busy with all the calls we’ve been getting.”

  The front door chimed with doom. Claire would have been grateful for any interruption to walk through the door, except for this one.

  Mike Barbon held his clipboard against his black wool coat, tapping his foot out of synch with the chorus of Jingle Bell Rock.

  “I’m sorry to keep you, thank you for your help,” Delilah said as she scampered out the back door. The Prescotts, mainly Mr. Prescott, had decided against joining the North Haven Chamber of Commerce. As Chamber president, Mike took it as a personal affront and never let Mrs. Prescott forget.

  Although Claire was an active member of the Chamber, Mike had very little regard for her either. The feeling was mutual, resulting in infrequent and clipped conversations.

  “I presume you received the rules for the Winter Carnival’s dog parade,” Mike said. “You are responsible for maintaining the strictest of order, or we shall exclude dogs from all future events.”

  “You do realize that there will be a lot of children there, right?” Claire asked. “It’s supposed to be a fun event.”

  “Chaos, Ms. Noble, is the very antithesis of fun.” He pulled out his clipboard and pointed to the signature line, marked by a fluorescent orange “sign here” tape flag. “This confirms that you will adhere to the set polices—and schedule—put forth to you. Further, you will bring the donated items for which you obligated yourself to the Chamber office by no later than next Thursday. That is one week from today, not a day later.”