We Woof You a Deadly Christmas

by Laura Quinn

  Once signed, he snatched his pen out of her hand and secured it in his pocket. He was about to leave when a customer came in, ending the possibility of a rude exit line.

  Claire seized the opportunity to ask about his niece, a friend of hers and thorn in his side. “How is Rita? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  His lip twitched slightly, but he turned the snarl into the semblance of a smile in the presence of others. “She’s in Los Angeles, working on the plans for the new Tonelli gym. They want to break ground after the holidays. So kind of you to ask.”

  “Oh you poor man, all alone for the holidays,” the senior said. “I understand Mrs. Barbon is still away; she’s been gone for a few months now, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes, well, must get on with official business. Lovely chatting with you ladies.” The door was barely opened wide enough before he ran out of it.

  “That man!” the customer exclaimed. “He’ll make a killing this Christmas Being that uptight and getting all that coal from Santa, he’ll be a regular diamond mine!”

  Laughter swept away the tension of her back-to-back glum visitors, and Claire could now focus on her to-do list. By the time Barbara arrived, Claire was ready to run her errands in town.

  With her Santa suit rescued from the tailor shop, showing no signs of the tear from an enthusiastic Boxer, Claire headed to her last stop at Rollins Rentals

  Mele Kalikimaka announced her entry into the showroom, and the tropical atmosphere made her forget the single-digit temperatures outside. No wonder the town has gone Maui mad, she thought.

  “I’ll be right with you,” a voice called out. “Help yourself to a cup of island rum nog. I’m just folding up your linens.”

  Claire cautiously poured a small amount of the featured drink, knowing the owner’s penchant for liberal libations. She coughed as she tasted it, filling her cup instead with the kiddie version. Finding an inviting lounge chair next to a surfing Santa and holly-bedecked outdoor heater, Claire took a moment to enjoy the tropical holiday magic.

  “What do you think of my special recipe?” Helen asked, startling her from behind.

  “It was delicious, but if I had a full cup of it, I’d be under the table by now,” Claire confessed. “I love the island holiday theme in here! Makes me forget how cold it is outside.”

  “I just figured we could all use an escape from our winters with a Maui Christmas. It’s been a huge hit with everyone; I have another rush order of green and red leis arriving this afternoon.”

  “Maybe I should host a canine luau next month,” Claire thought aloud. “For now, though, I’m sticking to the traditional White Woofmas.”

  “Your events are always such fun. I’m sorry I have to miss this one, but I have to oversee Blanche’s daughter’s rehearsal dinner. She ordered 50,000 strands of Austrian crystals to dangle from the hundreds of thousands of imported Italian lights strung along the ceiling. In fact, I’m meeting the florist in an hour to finalize plans with her.”

  “I can just imagine what the wedding will be like!”

  “If I live through it, I’ll bring photos,” Helen promised. “Anyway, Cliff has the rest of your order ready at the dock door. Feel free to lounge here as long as you want, though.”

  “Tempting, but I’ve been gone far too long already. I’ll pull up in the back.”

  “Thanks again for coming in to get these. I’m sorry about the tent mix-up, but I promise we will have it set up bright and early Saturday morning.”

  “I told you, it’s no problem at all. I appreciate the donation.”

  “Least I could do for those shelters. I would volunteer myself if I weren’t such a foster failure. That animal communicator you hosted told me Pixie prefers to be an only child,” Helen said. Her Great Dane, ran out as if on cue. Claire promised a play date between her and Baron soon. “Dare I ask one more favor?”

  “I owe you plenty, so let’s hear it,” Claire said.

  Helen ran back to get her purse and pulled out a small wrapped parcel. Pixie sniffed it thoroughly before it was handed to Claire.

  “Do you mind bringing this to your neighbor to enter into the contest? Here’s $25 for the donation,” Helen said. “This is a family heirloom, though it’s hideous. Santa’s beard is made of great, great, great grandfather Alfred’s hair. I think it should win the top prize.”

  “It certainly sounds unique,” Claire answered diplomatically. “I’ll be happy to drop it off for you.”

  “I included my contact information on the back; I’m hoping to score a private audience with Mr. Prescott.”

  “Why on earth would you want that?” Claire blurted out. “I mean, I didn’t know you had an interest in antiques.”

  “Trying to keep him for yourself, are you?” Helen teased. “I’ve heard about all about him from Blanche. After her divorce, she took all her monogrammed china and silverware to his shop. It was worth much less than she thought, but she said just chatting with such a debonair gentleman more than made up for it. Was he really a film star?”

  “Mr. Prescott? I don’t think so. Actually, I don’t know much about him at all. His wife is very nice, though.”

  “Oh, I’m not planning a fling with him. Not really,” Helen mused, pouring herself another cup of eggnog. “I’m going to bring Pixie next week to pick out an outfit for the Winter Fest parade.”

  Claire tucked the antique pin in the top napkin and drove to the back to pick up a portion of her rentals, then returned to her shop. Barbara was helping a family at the bakery counter, so Claire opened the second register to handle the growing queue. Baron greeted each customer at the counter, earning plenty of praise and cookies. When the shop quieted down, Claire set up the tables and chairs and carried in the linens. On top of the pile of crisp red tablecloths and silver runners lay the antique pin.

  “Barb, do you mind taking this next door to Delilah? Helen wants to enter it in the contest and she is donating twenty-five dollars. Then, go take a nice long break at the coffee house, my treat.”

  Claire overruled her manager’s objections, ensuring her she had everything well in hand. She was surprised to see that her to-do list was nearly complete. As she finished decorating trays of treats for the gala, Delilah called to thank her for the new business.

  “No need to thank me, Helen heard all about your gaudy contest and was excited to take part in it.”

  “All this attention has been quite overwhelming,” Delilah said. “We’ve had so many calls that I’ve almost forgotten about, well, you know.”

  “Now, there’s no sense in worrying about that.” Claire quickly formulated a feasible story from the facts she collected. “From everything I’ve heard, the police still don’t suspect foul play. Maybe Ruth took early retirement due to health issues.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but several people told me she was planning to go somewhere, to take it easy. Someone that young wouldn’t just retire from life, unless something was amiss.”

  “I do hope so. We haven’t heard anything, but I jump every time the phone rings. Donald says it’s all nonsense, but I still don’t think he’s telling me everything.”

  “This has been very upsetting for everyone. I’m sure he’s just as shaken as you, but doesn’t want you to know.”

  “Yes, maybe that’s all it is, a façade. Thank you, I feel much better.”

  “Good, because we have to focus on Saturday. We’re going to have fun and raise a lot of money for our charities.”

  “Wait until you see my outfit,” Delilah said. “I took your advice and went to the charity shop. I found the most ostentatious sweater; it has Santa and, well, you’ll see.”

  “We’ll see if it can compete with mine, which is a North Haven Christmas classic.”

  “You’re on, and I’m willing to wager a cup of Carrie’s cocoa supreme that mine is tops.”

  “I’ll enjoy drinking that cup of sweet victory,” Claire wagered before hanging up.

 
; She turned around to find Baron staring at her. “Don’t give me that look. I didn’t lie to her, exactly. I simply presented some of the facts to her, which led to a possible and quite logical conclusion. She needs to focus on the event and she can’t do that while worrying that her husband will be arrested for murder.”

  Baron licked Claire’s hand. “I’m glad you understand the complexities of these ethical dilemmas we humans must face. Now, how about we go home and face the ultimate dilemma, what’s for din-din?”

  Claire met with her team then left for a rare, early night at home. The cats seemed startled at her appearance and drew her attention away from the pile of shredded envelopes that had been her mail. Strips of the village newsletter showed a picture of the champion football team and a grinning photo of Jill Tonelli, announcing her latest gym in Tinseltown. Three ornaments were smashed on the floor.

  “I hope you don’t behave like this when Aiden is here. Catsitters are hard to find,” she told the unrepentant felines.

  She cleared the cobwebs from the fireplace and lit a fire. She turned on the selection of holiday music, including a Meowy Christmas CD she bought for the cats. After a dinner of crab and whitefish, they settled into their spots on the couch and took a nap. Baron fell asleep chewing his candy-cane crunchie. Careful not to disturb him, Claire put up her feet and Agatha Christie’s The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding.

  She fell asleep, dreaming of smuggled treasures and murder.

  Chapter 8

  Friday, December 8th

  Dashing through the shop, customers filled baskets and kept the registers ringing throughout the day. At four o’clock, the front door opened, revealing that the sky’s dusky pink was darkening. Four middle-aged women checking out giggled and pointed at the handsome man who walked through the door. They put on a fresh coat of lipstick before pirouetting to greet the high school football coach. Claire watched as he glanced around the shop then walked directly to the cat section. One of the customers, notorious for her hatred of all things feline, chatted about the best products to ensure a dear cat’s cheer. Politely declining the woman’s offer to demonstrate how a cat might wiggle through a gingerbread tunnel, Coach Bishop settled for a pair of crocheted catnip mice. He brought them up to the register and asked if the selection would be a good gift for his aunt’s new kitten.

  Despite the cinnamon-kissed vanilla scent of snickerpoochies baking in the ovens, Claire detected traces of citrus and spice from the man’s cologne. She babbled about the appeal of organic catnip as she tried to remember why the scent was so familiar. She introduced herself and Baron, who was too busy with his bone to make an appearance.

  “Do you teach at the high school?” Claire asked.

  “Before I answer that, are you related to a child who didn’t make the football team?”

  “No,” she laughed. “I stopped by the school the other day and thought I saw you. It’s my alma mater.”

  “I’m sorry I missed you. Was I wearing my stylish polyester shorts? They’ve been standard issue for coaches for decades.”

  “You make them look much better than Mr. Smith did. Of course, he must have been about sixty when I had him in sophomore PE. Not that I was looking at his shorts, not in that way. Or yours, I mean, obviously.”

  “I think it’s safe for an alumna to look at a teacher’s shorts any way she wishes. You are over eighteen, right?”

  “Just barely, give or take a few…”

  “Claire, I need you,” a voice wailed. The frantic woman, wearing a chocolate-stained apron, pushed past Ed to get to the cash wrap. Claire raised her index finger to him, as a signal she would be right back.

  “Did you take your tray of peppermint bonbons?” Yvette asked. “They aren’t finished yet.”

  “No, I thought you were going to drop them off later this afternoon.”

  “I don’t believe it; someone really did steal them!”

  “Don’t panic, Yvette. Someone probably moved them; things are always going astray back here.”

  “No, no; I looked everywhere. The platter was on the counter, then I left to get edible glitter. When I returned, it was gone. My only hope was that you picked them up early.”

  “It’s the sweet tooth thief,” Emma said, walking back to the office to get an apron before starting her shift. She turned to Claire and said, “We told you the cops won’t be able to solve this without your help.”

  “I’ll let you know how the kitten likes this,” Ed said, excusing himself from the scene.

  Claire dashed around the corner, grabbed a bag of tuna treats and a gala flyer, and dropped them in his bag. “On the house,” she said before running back to Yvette.

  Claire watched him walk to his BMW roadster, only partially aware of the ongoing bonbon conspiracy.

  “So, what are we going to do?” the chocolatier asked, her lips now quivering.

  “We’re going to start by walking back to your shop and taking a fresh look around,” Claire said. “I’ll talk to your assistant to see if she remembers who was there. Maybe someone picked it up with an order by mistake.”

  The two walked to Le Chocolat briskly, with no coats to protect against the arctic air. After scouring both the front and back areas, Claire talked with Amanda to see if she noticed anything.

  “No, Ms. Noble, I’m sure none of our customers took them. I rang them all up, and it was mostly small boxed assortments. I should have noticed someone stealing that big tray; I feel terrible.” The distraught teen looked to see if her boss was listening. “Don’t tell Yvette, but my boyfriend was here, and I was a little distracted, but I’m sure he would have noticed a shoplifter.”

  “Don’t worry,” Claire said. “It’s so busy; someone could have walked out when your back was turned just for a moment.”

  “They were so beautiful! Yvette piped cute little red and green paw prints on the top of each one.”

  “I’ll never be able to make a new batch of them before tomorrow,” Yvette said, returning from a thorough search of the back areas. “I have so many orders to finish.”

  “It’s no problem,” Claire assured her. “I’m sure they would have been the stars of the party, but we have plenty of other treats.”

  “How about a chocolate fountain?” Amanda suggested. “I could show you how to set that up, and we have plenty of blocks of our chocolate.”

  “That wouldn’t be safe in a room with dogs. If a small dog licked up even a few drops of chocolate, it could be fatal,” Claire explained.

  “I know - what if we dropped off the fountain with a supply of white chocolate? It could be for humans and dogs.” Yvette proposed.

  “Perfect! It will be our melted snowman fountain,” Claire said. “I’ll make graham smoreman cookies for the dogs and pick up some extra ginger cookies from the bakery for the humans.”

  “I’ll send Amanda over a little later to get it set up for you, and she can bring a few bags of my homemade marshmallows too,” the chocolatier said.

  “Le Chocolat will be the hit of the party,” Claire said. “Be sure to bring over plenty of your business cards too.”

  Claire returned to her shop to start mixing bowls of graham cracker cookie dough. While the mixture chilled, she called in an emergency order of ginger cookies from The Olde World Bakery. Mandy arrived with a cartful of boxes while Claire cut snowman shapes from the rolled dough. The baker stopped her rhythm just long enough to send Jesi and Amanda upstairs to set up the fountain.

  Once the queue of shoppers was cleared, Emma went upstairs with Baron. He sniffed Amanda’s boots, picking up traces of his friend Cooper, the mini-dachshund. While Amanda demonstrated the fountain, Emma and Jesi arranged packages of white chocolate chunks, marshmallows, crushed peppermint, and red sugar crystals. They were soon lost in conversations about all the news that had elapsed since they left school that afternoon, not noticing that Claire came upstairs.

  “Everything’s all set, Ms. Noble. Jesi and Emma know how to run it tomorrow.”
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  “That’s great,” Claire said. “Thanks for helping us with that.”

  “Is it cool if Mandy stays til close?” Emma asked. “Harry and Todd are going to pick us up here after work. We’re going to the Christkindlmarkt.”

  “Sure,” Claire said. “That sounds like fun. I wish I could go with you.”

  “Me too,” Marti said, walking through the door. “Where are we going?”

  “The Christkindlmarkt opens tonight,” Claire said. “The girls are going with their dates after work. I’ll be here, though. There’s so much still to do tonight.”

  “Phooey on that! I’m here to help you, and we do have to eat.”

  “Yeah, you should totally go,” Emma said. “The Brat Hut is finally offering vegan brats.”

  “And if you buy a stein tonight, you get half-price apple cider or Glühwein fill-ups until they close,” Amanda added.

  “I’m going to get one for Zac,” Jesi said. “He sounded really down about missing it tonight.”

  Marti pulled out her wallet and handed cash to Emma. “Tell you what, girls. I’ll buy your steins, for cider, if you’ll watch the shop for an hour or so while Claire and I run over there.”

  “Sure!” the girls said in unison.

  “Get your coat and bring some flyers,” Marti called to Claire.

  “That’s a great idea,” Claire said, zipping up her boots. “There are bound to be plenty of dog lovers there.”

  “I know I’m always on the lookout for a schwanz there.”

  “I think you mean hund,” Jesi laughed.

  “Yeah, that’s like putting the wagen vor dem pferd,” Emma said, also laughing.

  “I believe that’s the wagon before the horse, since I said tail instead of dog,” Marti explained to a bewildered Claire. “Shame on you, your mother’s Austrian.”

  “A few generations back,” Claire said. “I only took a few German classes, and that was a long time ago.”