We Woof You a Deadly Christmas

by Laura Quinn

The back door was shut behind the fallen chair.

  “It must have fallen on its own,” Claire whispered.

  “Just leave it this time, my heart can’t take another shock,” Marti said. “We need to finish up and get out of here, preferably not in an ambulance.”

  They returned to their search patterns, Claire in the office and Marti in the stock room. The curious baker searched through the neatly labeled folders on the desk, but couldn’t find anything authored by Donald. A large safe stood sentry in the back corner, locking any secrets safely behind its thick steel walls. Less imposing was a locked file cabinet, which Claire tried to pick with a bobby pin she brought especially for such purposes. She cursed the myriad of fictional tales that led her to believe this was an easy trick for the novice. After several attempts, the lock clicked and she looked through each of the three long drawers. The first two housed boxes of stationery, embosser, cartridges, books, assorted magnifying lenses and equipment. The bottom drawer was empty, save for a City Pets shopping bag. When her flashlight beam swept over it, she could hear a faint scratching sound. As soon as she leaned over to peek inside, she shrieked, covering her mouth too late.

  Marti ran into the office, swearing when she caught her knee on the edge of the old-fashioned desk.

  “Are you ok?” she whispered. When Claire nodded, she chastised her for nearly causing a second heart attack. Her face scowled when she saw what the flashlight illuminated. Inside was a large rat in a small metal cage, an unopened package of rat traps and a tissue filled with Posh Pup cookies, some chewed by the hungry inhabitant.

  Marti ran to the register and grabbed a large Prescott Antiques gift box and used the hole-punch to create air holes. She lay the box inside a shopping bag and deftly opened the cage and transferred the rodent into the box. “I know a rodent rescue group,” she whispered, then pointed to the exit to leave.

  They listened at the door for several minutes before slipping out. With nothing but sweatshirts to block the freezing air, they ran to the car. The heater was turned to high and the two rubbed their arms and legs to get warm.

  Marti loosely covered the shopping bag transport with a blanket and directed the vent towards it. Her teeth were still chattering as she pulled out her cell phone and pulled up the album of blurry photos. “This proves it; he is smuggling illegal animal parts.” Claire looked at the grainy images, disgusted at the collection of tusks, horns and worse.

  After stopping at the nearby mega-mart for a large rodent cage, food, Aspen shavings, and water bottle, Marti settled the temporary boarder in Claire’s guest bedroom. Two cats sat mesmerized in the hallway, the only detectable movement being their twitching tails.

  A safe distance from the rodent, Claire cautioned, “You better put our guest in the bathroom, it has a round doorknob. The cats know how to open the bedroom door. I used to hide their extra catnip in there, but they figured out they can pull down the handle quite easily.”

  The feline felons repositioned to assess the new challenge. Hercule jumped atop the tall bookcase in the living room to scheme from above. Penny lay on the floor, trying to reach under the door. Baron nudged the doorknob with his nose.

  “Don’t you start,” Claire called to the curious dog. “Come over and help us; Uncle Bob will be here soon.”

  As soon as Bob arrived, he was inundated with tales from his friends’ adventure. Claire began with the exposed plot to frame her shop with the trapped rat and her cookie remnants.

  “Are you sure I can’t report this? Bob asked. “You couldn’t make up a story that good.”

  “No,” the ladies said in unison.

  “I don’t want him to know we were there,” Claire said. “Besides, this way he’ll think the rat escaped into his store. He’ll be panicked that it’s going to nibble his precious possessions.”

  “We’ve got a much bigger story, but you can’t print that either,” Marti said. She proceeded to show him the photo evidence of illegal smuggling that she planned to send to the police anonymously.

  Soon, the topic moved to Ruth’s death and the possibility that it was suspicious.

  “If there had been a public service, we might have picked up some information,” Marti said. “Remember how many clues we got from Karen’s wake and funeral?”

  Claire shivered at the memory of the summer murders. “None of which pointed to the actual murderer, unfortunately.”

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Marti said. “What kind of family doesn’t hold some kind of remembrance ceremony?”

  “From what I hear, her nephew didn’t want to be bothered,” Bob explained. “Although he is Ruth’s only relative, I gather they weren’t very close.”

  “Close enough for him to inherit everything,” Marti said. She helped herself to another slice of peppermint-mocha cheesecake.

  “I know Principal Blummer wasn’t exactly a fan, but you would think he would have organized something,” Claire said.

  “You didn’t see him at the ill-fated retirement send-off,” Bob said, swiping a forkful from Marti’s plate. “He looked like he could have killed her himself.”

  “Should we move him up as a suspect?” Claire asked. “He was still bitter about her when I saw him days after Ruth’s death. If she were a blackmailer, she might have had something on him, something that earned her an early retirement.”

  “I’ve been wondering about those arrangements myself,” Bob said. “I’ve checked with colleagues and no one has heard of someone that young receiving such a package.”

  “Dr. Blummer definitely didn’t want to talk about it,” Claire said, relating the conversation she had in the school office. “It made me think the whole thing was an elaborate cover story.”

  “Maybe it was,” Marti said.

  Claire shook her head. “I saw the paperwork myself. It was signed by Trustee Davis, since the board president was out of town that month.”

  “That’s interesting; she was rumored to be one pushing the chief to thwart an investigation into Ruth’s death,” Bob said. “She insisted it was a disgraceful waste of funds for an accidental death and the nephew wanted a cremation as soon as possible to begin healing.”

  “You don’t think that one of them had something to do with it, do you?” Claire asked.

  Bob shook his head. “I think they want to sweep any crime under the rug, especially during this time of year. Murder isn’t exactly part of the idyllic holiday image the chamber of commerce has designed; even the whisper of a suspicious death would be silenced.”

  “I would really like to pin this on Donald,” Marti said. “Claire, tell Bob that mysterious man you saw; I’ll bet that was his fence.”

  Claire briefly described the situation with the fake gems and the bearded stranger, leading into the full case against Donald so far. Marti made another pitcher of holiday cocktails and Claire wrote down notes on an improvised murder board. As she listed possible motives, Claire told her friends about the woman with the chest of silverware to sell.

  Bob had little information to contribute, though he did share some high school photos he found while preparing for the farewell assembly. “Look at this old staff picture. You can see Halloween decorations in the background, so it must have been taken a few weeks after Ruth was hired. Do you notice anything strange in the corner?”

  “Oh my gosh,” Marti said. “Is that Mr. Motto? He was my favorite math teacher. I never believed the gossip about why he was fired.”

  “I heard he got caught once with a thermos full of Irish coffee during homeroom,” Claire said. “That’s what Mila Kemper said, anyway.”

  “She probably made that up after he sent her to detention one of the hundred or so times,” Marti said. “Remember she kept flicking football notes to Terry during history class?”

  “Take ‘em down Terry! You were quite enamored with the varsity fullback, weren’t you Marti?” Claire teased.

  “My history of bad choices goes back a long way!” Marti confessed. “I though
t it was so cool that he had a pager!”

  “He couldn’t have been the coke king without it!” Bob said.

  “Yeah, well, I was a bit suspicious of how he could afford a BMW after his dad’s steel mill closed,” Marti admitted. “Anyway, I don’t think he even knew my name.”

  “Just as well,” Claire said. “Otherwise, you might have ended up in jail instead of law school.”

  Marti objected, “No matter how gorgeous he was, I would never have helped him build his drug empire.”

  “I mean that with your temper, you probably would have killed him when you found out what he was up to.”

  “Yeah, and that deputy do-nothing didn’t even investigate, despite Bob’s brilliant expose on campus drug use.”

  “No one was very happy with that story,” Bob said. “It didn’t go anywhere. Besides, all the kids were talking about Marti’s op-ed piece about the inequity in pizza slicing at the cafeteria.”

  “A well-argued case, if I do say so myself.”

  “Which brings us back to the photo,” Bob said. “Take another look at Mr. Blotto.”

  “Is he glaring at Ruth?” Marti asked.

  “It wasn’t long after that he was fired,” Claire remembered. “Makes you wonder if the secret commodities trade had already begun.”

  Bob agreed, adding “Ruth would have been dead right then and there, if looks could kill.”

  Chapter 11

  Monday, December 11th

  “I thought you were taking a day off from Santa’s woofshop today,” Barbara said, chuckling at her pun.

  Claire took off her coat and put on her apron. “I just have to bake a few batches of cookies before I leave; you won’t even know I’m here.”

  Baron, exhausted from a morning at the snow-covered dog park, plopped down in his bed. Despite the usually slow day, Barbara kept busy with customers while Claire mixed batters in the kitchen. She was half-way through the recipe when Baron alerted Claire at the first whiff of Lana’s scent, and they stepped out from the kitchen to greet her best customer.

  “Oh, Claire, you can’t believe what has happened. I’m an absolute wreck!”

  “What’s wrong?” Claire asked, bracing herself for another last-minute request.

  “That swindler stole my pearls, that’s what’s wrong!”

  Every head in the store, human and canine, turned in their direction as she continued, “They were only worth a few thousand, but so precious to me. And now, they’re gone. Gone!”

  “Donald lost them?” Claire guessed.

  “No, the weasel replaced them with fakes and left his clueless wife to pawn them off to me. As if I wouldn’t notice; I could tell immediately by the coarse reproduction of the knots. My pearls were hand-tied, beautiful in their imperfection.”

  “I…I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say,” Claire stammered. She guided Lana to the back room, to vent her rage in privacy.

  “I told that simpering woman to produce my necklace immediately or face the consequences. She said her scammer husband is out of town until Tuesday,” Lana said, accepting a cup of brandy-spiked cider and taking a long sip. “I would have called the police right then and there, but I don’t want my name in the press; you know how they would jump on a story like that. If that swindler had been there, I would have knocked him into the New Year!”

  Lana’s glare left no question as to the promise of vengeance. Claire tried to calm her, but it was Baron’s charms that eventually soothed the socialite. Lana managed to regain her usual speaking voice as she talked about her trip to California. Although she didn’t get to see JP personally, Lana did talk to his agent who assured her he would see JP the next morning and present the basket. On her way out of the store, Lana glared at the antique store and cursed its owner.

  Claire considered running over to talk with Delilah, but had to work on doughs to replace empty bins. She mixed the wet ingredients for the ginger express cookies, then blended in the flours and spices. The cinnamon aroma helped soothe her mind, focusing on her work instead of the weasel’s crimes.

  Just as she put the last tray of the grain-free version into the oven, a faint knock sounded at the back door.

  “Claire, are you there?” Delilah asked.

  “Yes, come on in.”

  “I wanted to talk about your friend’s pearl necklace. I am absolutely mortified! I can’t imagine what happened, except perhaps a mix-up occurred with all the entries from the antique evaluations,” Delilah said, looking Claire directly in the eyes. “You know, we received so many items that we had to backlog the estimates. It must have been an innocent mistake with a faux pearl set from another customer.”

  “I know you would never try to cheat anyone,” Claire said, thinking the opposite of her husband.

  “She was so upset! I didn’t know what to say, other than promising I would look into it. I just wish Mr. Prescott had been there to straighten everything out.”

  “I thought he was planning to be there today.”

  “Well, yes, he was here, briefly. He has several private accounts, so he can’t always be at the shop.”

  “You’ve been so busy lately; maybe you could hire someone?”

  “I’m not sure Mr. Prescott would want an outsider in the business. Although, these past few days have been most successful. Maybe if it continues…”

  “I’m sure it will. How did today go?”

  Delilah brightened. “Nearly everyone who came in bought something, and many more commissioned sales. We even have a waiting list of interested buyers for the contest winners so far; many of them are on consignment. I still can’t believe their appeal.”

  “People are fickle. If something appears in the paper, suddenly it’s in vogue. If it gets you a higher commission, then all the better.” Claire said, before being called back by the ovens’ timers. Delilah left, a much better color.

  When Barbara left for the day, Claire worked on projects at the front counter. She printed up labels for the holiday-themed grain-free cookie boxes. After affixing the twenty-third label, she suddenly stopped. “Oh, fudge!”

  Baron woke up from his nap, ready to eat the remnants of Claire’s mistake.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Baron. I just realized I used the oat flour instead of brown rice flour. Shall we try one?”

  Claire popped a piece into her mouth, but her Chief Testing Officer sniffed the new treat cautiously, licking it twice before committing to a bite. An enthusiastic consumption of the full cookie approved the oat-flour version. Claire made a note of the new recipe for future batches, and printed revised labels. She began peeling off the old ingredient labels, replacing them with the new version. Her progress was interrupted by customers, deliveries, phone calls, and oven timers. Some boxes were labeled twice and some not at all. She decided to have her staff finish that project, instead focusing on baking more treats.

  Emma ran into the shop late for her shift. She threw her backpack, purse, and coat on the chair, knocking down everything on the table.

  “Sorry!” the teenager began. “Madison had a total thing with her boyfriend, so you know, I had to calm her down. She is totally freaked about Josh. They were supposed to go to Starbucks to study for the physics test next week, but he blew her off. He said he had some kind of special training session, but I know that’s a lie because I texted Harry during French class and he didn’t know anything about it, which I already knew because he promised to meet me here tonight. We’re going to that new frozen yogurt place after work. Have you tried it? It’s really good, plus it’s low in calories and I’m on a diet. I could barely fit into the dress I want for the winter formal. Harry’s so fit; he might ditch me if I keep porking out…”

  “A diet?” Claire interrupted, “Emma, you do not need to lose an ounce! If Harry is pressuring you to change yourself, then you need to change boyfriends.”

  “He didn’t say anything, but his bod is so hot! Guys have it so much easier than we do. He eats more calories at breakfast
than I do all day, and that’s his smallest meal. He hardly ever goes to the gym, but he does go to practice a lot, so I suppose that’s why. Anyway, I’ve got to really cut down on those skinny lattes. Black coffee and stevia. That’s it. Well, maybe a splash of skim milk, but that’s it. I should tots try a detox again. Anyway, I had to stay and talk with Maddy, then I raced over here. I know I should be on time, but I knew you would understand and…”

  “Okay,” Claire interrupted, “I understand. Are you sure you can manage tonight on your own?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s like two hours.”

  “Harry is going to be here with you to close, though, right?”

  “Yes, he’ll be here after he has dinner. His dad is back from a long case, so they’re having a family sit-down. He hates them, but you know, sometimes you’ve got to suck it up. Especially so close to Christmas, and…”

  “Well, I better run, before I’m late,” Claire said while clipping on Baron’s leash. “Call me if you need anything. If anything makes you nervous, just lock the doors and put up the closed sign.”

  “Like we have anything to worry about in boring old Snorest Hills,” Emma shrugged.

  Claire was relieved the teen hadn’t asked her about the sudden worry. She hadn’t told her staff about the illegal items in the neighboring storeroom. Knowing Donald, he would keep himself far removed from the criminal element, but she still felt unease and was glad he was out of state.

  Thoughts about her neighbor were soon eclipsed by wardrobe stress. While the cats slept off their dinner, Claire pulled more choices from her closet. Baron fell asleep after the third outfit change. Riding in the cab to La Vida Doughlce, she regretted her choice. The classic little black dress with a red waterfall cardigan and knee-high boots was comfortable, but definitely set off different vibes than she intended, like a winter version of Princess Di’s revenge look. She considered keeping her full-length winter coat on throughout dinner.

  Ed, seated at the bar watching sports TV, rose to greet her and surprised her with a kiss on the lips. He wore a well-fitting pair of black trousers with a deep blue shirt, unbuttoned enough to expose a bare chest. His leather Diesel jacket was folded neatly on the back of the chrome bar chair. They were immediately directed to the prime table in the bay window, and the waiter brought a vase with red roses and a bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket.