Three Woofs for the Dead, White and Blue

by Laura Quinn

  Three Woofs for the Dead, White and Blue

  By

  Laura Quinn

  pawtisseriemysteries.com

  Dedication:

  To my husband, thank you for your continued support of my writing passion. I could not have done this without all your love, encouragement and contributions.

  To my sister, thank you for always being so supportive and for sharing your expertise in psychology, answering endless questions about motives and behavior.

  To my dearest puppy, you helped mend my heart and inspired me to return to this project. Thank you for only deleting a few pages with your adorable paws.

  Acknowledgements:

  To the brave members of our military and your loved ones, thank you. Your selflessness and sacrifices will never be forgotten.

  To the admirable organizations and volunteers dedicated to helping our veterans, thank you.

  Cast of Characters

  Main Cast

  Claire Noble: Owner of Posh Pup Pawtisserie

  Baron, MeowyPenny and Hercule Purrot

  Marti Von Brandt: Attorney

  Bob Ernst: North Haven News editor

  Posh Pup Pawtisserie Staff

  Barbara O’Reilly: Manager

  Emma Martin: Part-time employee, Zac’s sister

  Zac Martin: Part-time employee, Emma’s brother

  Peggy Dumas: Part-time employee

  Supporting Cast

  Agnes Foxwell: Golden Oaks Manor resident

  Brendan Hughes: Real Estate Agent, ex-husband of Olivia Hughes

  Bunny Marshall: Socialite and Philanthropist

  Carrie Teaford: Owner of Java and Tea, Naturally

  Claude Morris: Lana Vanderloft's chauffer

  Deloris Dill: Retired school nurse and North Haven historian

  Dottie Devin: Real estate agent

  Helen Rollins: Owner of Rollins Rental

  Jean and John Jenkins: Golden Oaks Manor residents

  Jill Tonelli: Fitness model, Co-Owner of Tonelli Gym

  Keckers Andersen: Teen techie, best friend of Zac Martin

  Ken Bancroft: Entrepreneur/angel investor, Kim’s husband

  Kendall Cole: Photographer, Lydia Langdon-Reeve’s niece

  Kim Bancroft: Village president, Ken’s wife

  Kirstin and Sanjay (Jay) Patel: newest NoHa residents

  Kyle Beecham: Organic fruit farmer and beekeeper

  Lana Vanderloft: Philanthropist and socialite

  Larry Hamilton: Accountant, Traci’s husband

  Lydia Langdon-Reeve: Philanthropist, Kendall’s aunt

  Mike Barbon: Chamber of commerce president, Sam Mason’s uncle

  Nick Cooper: North Haven assistant fire chief

  Nurse Anita: favorite Golden Oaks Manor nurse

  Olivia Hughes: Chamber ambassador, Brendan Hughes’ ex-wife

  Sam (Samantha) Mason: Contractor, Mike Barbon’s niece

  Traci Hamilton: Interior designer, Larry’s wife

  Chapter 1

  Saturday, July 2nd

  “It’s the perfect night to murder someone,” Dottie Devin said. The upstairs window of the Posh Pup Pawtisserie rattled from the boom outside, causing a cacophony of howls from the canine guests. Although Independence Day was still two days away, the smell of sulfur tinged the air. “Who could distinguish between a gunshot and firecrackers?”

  “Hercule Poirot, for one,” Marti Von Brant said. The red-haired attorney knelt beside her two beagles, Clarence and Darrow, and calmed them with a freshly baked treat. Claire Noble, Marti’s best friend and owner of the new shop smiled at the reference to Murder in the Mews, one of the many Agatha Christie stories they knew well. The mystery lovers founded their own crime-solving club in middle school, calling themselves the Mystery Mavens. Over the years, they developed an extensive repertoire of fictional case studies.

  “Sounds very messy,” Henry Paige, owner of Page by Paige bookstore, said. He spit out a spray of crumbs, brushing them off his t-shirt that proclaimed A Reader Lives a Thousand Lives.

  His sister, Olivia Hughes, the Welcome Wagon Chair and Chamber Ambassador rolled her eyes at the irony. She was as elegant and outgoing as he was bookish and dowdy. “Yes, you would have to worry about the cleanup on top of everything else.”

  “A few teaspoons of antifreeze in smoothies every day for a month would do it. I saw that on a crime show once,” Traci Hamilton, the interior designer said. She helped herself to another sandwich, adding two packets of mayonnaise to the brioche bun. Her English Bulldog, Humphrey, chewed on a yam yummy, despite having lost several teeth over the years.

  “No, no, you leave too much to chance,” Claire said. She dabbed perspiration from her brow as the air conditioner struggled to keep pace with the outside heat and twin convection ovens downstairs. “Put one large dose of the poison in something very sweet, like pink lemonade. There’s no coming back from that.”

  The assembled guests, friends and Posh Pup employees dropped their beverages in unison. Claire’s green eyes sparkled in amusement. “Oh, come on. I would hardly tip you off if I were going to poison you. Besides, how would I get all these goodie bags done by tomorrow all by myself?”

  “They should have been done yesterday,” Mike Barbon said, his posture as rigid as the pinstripes on his charcoal suit. A silver cross secured a red tie, clashing with the gold North Haven Chamber President badge on his lapel. He always spoke as if he were addressing a congregation of sinners.

  “I really appreciate your flexibility so I could still participate in the giveaways,” Claire said, forcing a smile. Her dog, Baron, sat next to her in support. “I had planned to get everything to you by Friday.”

  “It’s hardly your fault that the gas line wasn’t hooked up until this morning,” Barbara O’Reilly, the shop’s manager said. She glared at the chamber president, whose wife was a village trustee. “The village should have sent the building inspector on time to issue the permit.”

  “My studio was delayed too. If Aunt Lydia hadn’t gotten involved, I would have missed my grand opening,” said Kendall Cole, the young owner of the neighboring photography studio. Her chic tangerine sundress reminded Claire of the SoHo boutiques she used to frequent when she lived in New York.

  “Yeah, lighten up Mike,” Olivia said, pulling her sleek black hair into a bun. Her dog, Liberty, barked and jumped in her lap. “The chamber is supposed to support new businesses, aren’t we? The Posh Pup is the most exciting new business we’ve had in years. Besides, it’s much nicer working here than in your stuffy offices. Unless you miss that pretty new assistant of yours.”

  Dottie, the real estate agent who had shown the property to Claire, ran from the table. An untied bag of dog cookies caught on the belt of her trademark polka-dotted dress and flew to the floor. While the other dogs jumped up to investigate the fortuitous mistake, the empathic Baron trotted downstairs after Dottie, followed by Claire.

  “That dog is so beautiful,” Kendall said, taking more photos of the large, fawn-colored Eurasier with the curled, feathery tail. Mike directed her to photograph the donated gifts for the chamber to publicize. The rest of the team continued with their assigned task of bagging blueberry biscotti and peanut butter stars. Henry gnawed on another biscotto.

  “Those are for the dogs,” his sister scolded.

  “I can’t help it,” Henry said between mouthfuls. “You know I’m a stress eater.”

  Barbara reassigned him to tying grand opening flyers to the bags. The widow’s years as a naval officer’s wife were evident in her efficient manner, though her cheery face, framed by soft, grey waves, mitigated offence. She was the perfect manager for Claire, who could be
too accommodating.

  The blonde baker returned to the table with a fresh tray of goodies and Baron joined his dog friends. She couldn’t resist taking another cookie for herself, promising to take a long walk later.

  “Is Dottie ok?” Marti asked. In her heels, she eclipsed her friend’s petite stature.

  “She’ll be fine,” Claire said. “She needed to get some fresh air.”

  “She’s dealing with a delicate matter,” Henry said, rising to get another box of NoHa Chamber bags from the back table.

  “It’s her husband,” Olivia whispered, while tilting her hand to indicate a drinking problem. Her brother gnawed a licorice rope he snagged from one of the bags. “That’s hardly a secret,” she continued. “David’s been that way since the affair ended. He chose a true man-eater with that woman.”

  “Which is entirely a private affair,” Mike said. “Besides, she shouldn’t be judged so harshly. She’s a respected member of our community, after all.”

  “What a crock of…” Traci stopped mid-sentence when she saw Claire signaling to her. The two teenage employees at the table caught the clumsy hint.

  “Don’t mind us, we’ve already heard all the stories,” Zac Martin said, looking up briefly from his iPhone.

  “Yeah,” his younger sister, Emma, said. Even wearing headphones, the sixteen-year-old could follow several simultaneous conversations. “We tots know you’re talking about Kim Bancroft. I heard that…”

  “Claire, those piña colada scones smell divine,” Barbara said, cutting off the conversation before it got worse. “They remind me of my honeymoon in Maui, when we toured the pineapple plant. The air smelled so sweet, and I can just about feel the tingle of the fresh juice on my tongue. Funny how aromas can trigger memories like that, even all these years later.”

  “That’s because the olfactory bulb is directly connected to areas of the brain that process memory and emotion,” Emma said. “We studied some basic neuroscience at summer camp.”

  “We learned how to macramé an owl and make cupcakes in summer camp,” Claire said. “Remember that, Marti?”

  “I remember nearly burning down the camp with my indoor smore idea,” her friend said. Her aquiline nose crinkled at the acrid memory. “Guess it isn’t a surprise that you’re the one opening a bakery.”

  “Clarissa always made the most delicious desserts,” Barbara said. “Her mother and I thought she could become the youngest graduate of Le Cordon Bleu. She even spoke fluent French in middle school.” Barbara shared more stories of Claire as a young girl, with Marti contributing quips to keep her friend’s ego in check.

  “If anyone wonders why she is always so damned cheery, you can blame her nose. When we were kids, a fortune teller at our fifth-grade carnival told Claire that her celestial nose shape destined her to be eternally optimistic,” Marti said.

  Her long-time friend twitched the upturned tip of her nose and flashed a big smile in response.

  Marti continued, “Which probably explains why she bopped around high school listening to 80s music, dressed like a Valley Girl when everyone else slumped around in grunge, listening to the Seattle sound.”

  “Can I help it if I was born a few years too late?” Claire protested.

  “You were perfect just the way you were,” Traci said. “Amanda loved your mixtape karaoke nights, especially making up new lyrics with you. For a while, I thought she would become a song writer.”

  “Your daughter was a joy to babysit; we always had such a blast! It didn’t surprise me when Mandy graduated top of her class at Annapolis. I love reading her letters as she moves around the world; it’s like I’m there with her.”

  “She still credits you for inspiring her to pursue a media career. She enjoys being a public affairs officer so much that I think she’s going to stay in the Navy until she retires.”

  “Just a minute,” Mike said. “I thought you were from New York.”

  “Duh, she grew up here,” Emma said. Like their boss, she and her brother were born and raised in the affluent North Shore suburb, about twenty miles north of Chicago.

  “Yeah, didn’t you read the article in the Snooze?” her brother, Zac, asked. Like many teens, he referred to the idyllic town as Snore Haven, and the local newspaper as the Snore Haven Snooze. “Here, I’ll pull it up for you.” He slid his phone across the table.

  “I’m sure Mr. Barbon has been inundated with the town’s holiday plans,” the diplomatic shop owner said. “I think it’s going to be the best Fourth at North Fest yet. Consolidating all the giveaways in these goodie bags was a great idea, so everyone gets everything.”

  “Throwing candy from floats is so unsanitary, and then the village has to sweep all the streets afterwards,” Mike said. Although he had only moved to North Haven five years prior, he worked to subsume as much of the town as possible.

  Someone whispered “codger”, but Mike’s attention was diverted by the digital article. He scanned the paragraphs to learn that Claire ran a successful marketing company in Manhattan for several years before returning to her hometown to take over her parents’ home when they retired to Naples. Weary of the rat race, the entrepreneur sold her company and worked as a freelance marketer until she adopted Baron, who changed her life. Having to bake treats for the fussy eater led Claire to work with a dog nutritionist to develop recipes, and ultimately, to open her own dog bakery.

  As he read, conversations continued around the table. Claire talked about her late grandmother, who sparked her baking passion. She could still remember standing on a step stool, balanced on her tip toes, to reach the counter to roll out her first pie crust. Kendall asked where she could find a dog like Baron, having fallen in love with him. The charismatic dog sat next to her and she twirled the soft fur around his ears. Marti told the story of how a lawyer she knew had imported the puppy from a Eurasier breeder in Europe to impress his fiancée.

  “Not long after the adorable Baron von Hund arrived, the jerk accepted a new position in Miami, found a new girlfriend and abandoned the ten-week-old puppy in my office,” Marti said, her jaw clenching as she recalled the story. “He knew I worked with pet shelters and figured I would find a new home. After I decked him, I called Claire. It was shortly after she moved back, and I knew she would be the perfect parent.”

  “It was love at first sight,” Claire said. “I’m forever grateful to Marti for bringing this precious boy into my life.”

  The table applauded Marti, who took the opportunity to tell them about upcoming adoption events at the shop. Dottie returned and was welcomed with a kiss on the knee from the furry host. She reached over to hug him and took her seat. A few strands of her brunette bob caught on freshly-applied mascara. “I’m sorry everyone, I needed to take a little walk.”

  “We all could use a stretch,” Claire said. “In fact, I’m calling quitting time. I’ll finish the rest and drive them to the tent tomorrow.”

  Mike was the first to stand and he collected his gold-trimmed briefcase from the seat beside him. Claire walked down with him to the shop floor and unlocked the front door. Before leaving, he reminded her that all the bags needed to be delivered by noon at the latest. As he would be busy with deacon duties, Claire was to give the bags to Kim Bancroft. She promised she would and thanked him again for his help, smiling as she muttered under her breath. When she returned upstairs, the rest of the group were still working on the bags. Olivia proposed adding antifreeze to Mike’s lemonade, though others suggested there were better targets. Marti reminded them that she practiced family law, and wouldn’t be much help as a criminal defense lawyer.

  “Hey guys, the shift is over,” Claire said. “I’ve got the rest of these, no problem. You’ve been angels to help me out like this.” She set out empty food containers and encouraged everyone to bring home extra sandwiches, snacks and cookies. Her guests took her up on her offer, clearing out most of the leftovers on the table. Most of the group left, all telling Claire how much they loved her shop.

&
nbsp; Kendall exited through the joint hallway to work on the photos in her studio. The plaza was designed so that each pair of shops shared a bathroom, utility box, and delivery door in the back. Claire designed her main floor so that the storage room, office and kitchen were accessible through the back door, convenient to receive the frequent shipments of ingredients and boutique products. The cushioned rubber flooring that lined these areas had just been laid, following installation of the custom bamboo floor with paw-shaped rubber inserts to prevent four-legged guests from slipping in the retail area.

  “This floor is heaven for my feet. Maybe I should have it installed in my new kitchen,” Traci said. She took her shoes off to fully enjoy the padded comfort.

  “What happened to your toe?” Claire asked.

  “I was reaching for something in Larry’s office and his stupid book fell on my foot. I swear, it must weigh five pounds. Any other man cave would have sports magazines or Playboy, but not my husband. He set up a shrine to “The Wealth of Nations”, the book that inspired his degree in economics.”

  “I don’t think I’ll add that to my summer reading list.”

  “I don’t think any normal person would,” Traci said. Before the shop’s designer left, she made notes of projects she needed to complete the next day. She promised to bring the cherry-pit heating pads she made as fundraisers for the NoHa Senior Dog Rescue she chaired. They would be featured on the wall alongside custom-made dog beds, handcrafted pet dishes and stands, and various paw-themed home goods.