Davis, Krista - Murder, She Barked - A Paws & Claws Mystery (A Paws and Claws Mystery)

The kitten danced past her, headed toward the registration desk.

We followed Twinkletoes and proceeded outdoors, where I found a very thoughtfully placed doggie restroom. The dog still seemed a bit confused by the constraint of the leash, but she did what she needed to, and we headed back inside to more familiar territory in the main part of the inn. The dog readily trotted along with me. She paused now and then for a sniff, but who could blame her for that?

Oma had knocked down some walls, opening the Dogwood Room, the main gathering room, into the old lobby area. The huge stone fireplace remained, along with the rustic pine mantel that I remembered. I paused in front of the grand staircase. Opposite it, the original entrance of the inn fronted on Wagtail’s pedestrian zone. The Dogwood Room lay to my left and a corridor led away to the new reception area.

I hoped Oma hadn’t updated the wonderful old kitchen that she maintained for her personal use. I had spent countless hours in its warmth and hated to imagine it gone. But before I reached it, my grandmother called to me from a table overlooking the lake in the dining area on the other side of the grand staircase. She had removed the narrow old windows in favor of a breathtaking window wall where guests could enjoy the panorama of the lake and the mountains. A few brave guests sat outside at tables on the stone terrace.

The relief I felt at seeing Oma reminded me how much I loved her. I didn’t like the looks of her elevated leg, though.

I rushed over to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Officer Dave sat at the table with her. Heavy bags sagged under his eyes. He probably hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. He clutched a mug of coffee in his hands.

A crisp white square topper covered a rose tablecloth. Dave’s breakfast—a waffle covered with blackberries—made my mouth water. The delicious scent of sage wafted from sausages on a side dish. A basket of croissants and hearty breakfast breads looked so incredible that I wanted to select one, slather butter on it, and sink my teeth into it.

A vase of sunflowers graced each of the dozen round tables. I reveled in my surroundings. Oma seemed fine, the sun glittered on the lake below, and it felt great to be back at the inn.

Oma grasped my hand and didn’t let go until she noticed the dog. “Ja, who is this? Casey mentioned that you brought a dog.”

Oma hated that she still had a German accent after fifty years in America, but it sounded charming to most people, including me.

“She doesn’t have a name yet. I found her yesterday when I drove up here.”

Dave murmured, “Morning,” before digging into his breakfast.

The dog placed her front paws against the seat of Oma’s chair and wagged her tail with delight. Oma reached down to pet her. There was a little spark between them. Maybe Oma would keep the dog after all.

“When I was a child, this kind of dog often performed in the circus.” Oma reached for a little glass canister on the table and pulled out a tiny cookie in the shape of a bone. She held it over the dog’s head and asked, “Do you know any tricks?”

The dog’s ears perked up, and she pranced on her hind legs briefly, her nose uplifted for the treat. Oma chuckled and fed her the bone.

“What happened to your leg?” If it hadn’t been for the elevated foot, Oma would have looked perfectly normal. She wore her silvery hair in a short, sassy cut. For a woman just over seventy, her skin showed remarkably few wrinkles. She’d never been fond of makeup and didn’t really need it. She wore a white turtleneck, brown trousers, and a hand-knitted red vest embroidered with tiny white hearts. I assumed she had knitted the vest herself.

“You didn’t tell her?” asked Oma of Dave.

“There was a fire, Liesel.”

“Yesterday evening,” said Oma, “someone murdered Sven, one of my employees.”

Eight

“Murdered? Are you sure?” In my astonishment, I spoke much louder than I’d have liked. A couple of guests who were eating breakfast looked in our direction.

“He was a ski instructor at Snowball Mountain in the winter but worked as night auditor for me in the summer months.” Oma heaved a sad sigh and dabbed a tissue at her eyes.

An attractive waitress arrived at our table, unintentionally interrupting the conversation. A few streaks of blond in her wavy, light brown tresses suggested she might have been blond as a child. She had pulled her hair back into a loose bun but had skipped makeup altogether. Not that she needed any, with those startling blue eyes. I guessed she was in her thirties, close to my age. There was a calmness about her. I couldn’t tell whether she was simply a serene person or exhausted. She wore a white Sugar Maple Inn golf shirt with a khaki skirt. “You must be Holly. Your grandmother never stops stalking about you.”

“I’m so sorry! That must be boring.” I sent a little glare of disapproval to Oma. “A pot of hot tea, please.” I paused, finding it hard to shift my thoughts to food. Should I stay on my diet or dive into a waffle? The mere thought of blackberry syrup almost had me drooling. How could I pass it up? I sighed. “Two soft-boiled eggs, please. No sausage or bacon.” I would have to resist the breads and pastries.

“That’s all?” asked Oma. “You should eat something you wouldn’t make for yourself. A little indulgence while you’re here. Wouldn’t you rather have the blackberry French toast? And perhaps a small Liver It Up breakfast for the little one?”

I’d have been thoroughly upset if my mother changed my order, especially when I was younger. But grandmothers fell into an entirely different category. I smiled and accepted it. Oma merely wanted to spoil me a bit. Besides, she was right. I could return to eating my two bare eggs when I was home again. “And sausages, please?” No point in doing it halfway.

After the waitress left, I said in a hushed voice, “Casey said something about a car accident.”

“A hit-and-run,” said Oma. “Right in front of me. I was crossing the street just a few feet behind Sven when a big car flew at us and hit him. Right before my eyes. We didn’t hear a thing. Suddenly it was upon us.”

“The fog was terribly thick,” I said. “Was it raining? Maybe the driver didn’t see him.”

“Liesel, she needs to know the truth.” Dave wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The car had no lights on. Wagtail has become a golf cart community. There’s limited access for cars. That car had no business being there whatsoever. And Liesel is lucky she got off with a twisted ankle. The car hit them both, but only sideswiped Liesel. She could just as easily have suffered Sven’s fate.”

My fingers felt cold against my cheeks. “Did you see the driver, Oma?”

“I wasn’t looking, though I doubt I would have seen much in the dark. It all happened very fast.” She gestured with her hands as she spoke. “One minute, all I heard was the peaceful pitter-patter of rain. The next thing I knew—” she snapped her fingers “—a car came at us, and suddenly I was laying on the road, and Sven was dead. It was horrible. He was such a lovely young man with everything to live for.” She reached out and curled her fingers around my hand for a moment.

The waitress delivered steaming tea in a tall rounded porcelain mug with a touch of gold on the delicate handle. I stirred in sugar and a splash of milk. “Driving with the lights off is certainly suspicious, especially last night because I could barely see anything with my lights on. But why do you think it was murder? How would anyone know that Sven would happen along? Did he run there regularly or something?”

“The phone call.” said Oma. “Someone called the inn about Ellie needing help because Dolce was running loose. Sven was hanging out at the inn,” she smiled wistfully, “because he has—had—a crush on Chloe, who works for me. He went over to help Ellie find Dolce.”