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

“Dolce is a dog?” I asked.

“An amazingly beautiful show dog. Ellie and I own him together. Our Scandanavian stud!” A breath escaped Oma’s lips. “Thank goodness he was found.”

“Then it was someone who knew Sven well.” I sipped my tea.

Dave frowned at me. “Why would you say that?”

“The caller knew Sven would be at the inn and that news of a loose dog would bring him running to the rescue.”

A stubby man wearing a preppy argyle V-neck vest over a light blue, button-down shirt marched in with a basset hound, who stuck to his side, doing his level best to match the man’s stride. The basset hound extended his nose toward my Jack Russell. When the man sat down with us, the basset edged toward my dog and polite sniffing ensued.

I put the man somewhere in his fifties, although his grim expression aged him. He exuded restless energy that made me wary.

Ignoring my presence, he lifted his hand, one finger raised. “Shelley, I’ll have coffee, one of these waffles and an order of bacon.” He leaned toward Dave, but turned his head to me and demanded, “Who are you ?”

Oma projected an oasis of calm in his presence. “Holly, Jerry Pierce is the mayor of Wagtail. Jerry, this is my granddaughter, Holly.”

“Uh-huh.” Jerry’s mouth puckered in annoyance.

Oma found a treat in her pocket and split it in half. She fed one part to my dog, and the other to Jerry’s. “And this handsome basset hound is Chief.”

The waitress delivered our breakfasts. My gorgeous round waffle was dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a mound of fresh blackberries and a dollop of whipped cream. She left a carafe of maple syrup and another of blackberry syrup next to my plate. It would have been a wonderful decadent breakfast, had Sven’s death not cast a pall over us.

The waitress placed a little dish in a short stand on the floor for my dog. I peered over. Chopped liver mixed with rice rested on a bed of green beans. The dog snarfed her breakfast like it was the best food she had ever eaten. It probably was.

“Holly, wouldn’t you and your little dog rather eat outside on the terrace so I can have a word with Dave and Liesel?” asked Jerry.

This time Oma bristled. Someone who didn’t know her might have missed it, but I knew what it meant when her jaw tightened like that. “It’s fine, Jerry. There is nothing you can’t say in front of Holly.”

He didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Very well.” Lowering his voice, he aimed his ire at Dave. “What the devil is going on? People are saying that Sven was murdered. Do you know what that will do to tourist business in this town? It will shut us down, that’s what. People will be afraid to come to Wagtail!”

My eyes met Oma’s. He seemed a bombastic type. Surely he was exaggerating.

“It’s bad enough that I have to field phone calls every single morning about the noise from Hair of the Dog when it closes at midnight. I swear I have to dodge Birdie when I see her coming. If it’s not the noise from the bar, then it’s that ridiculous tree house Tiny built. If she mentions it again, I will scream. Do you know she dragged me out there to measure the distance from her lot in the air? In the air! I’ve given Tiny notice about it but he won’t move it. I half think he’s refusing just to irritate Birdie. Not that I’d blame him.”

I cringed. I would have to pay my grouchy Aunt Birdie a visit while I was in town or I would never hear the end of it.

“That woman complains endlessly. And last night, some idiot reported trees down on power lines clear up near Hazel Mae and Del’s place. I went up there but couldn’t find nary a downed tree and the electricity was working just fine,” Jerry continued. “I will not have Wagtail turn into a lawless mire like Snowball Mountain, with a burglary every weekend.” He paused for a moment. “Any word on the trouble over there yet? I heard they set up a sting that bombed. Think it’s an inside job?”

Dave looked up at the ceiling briefly. I got the impression Jerry wasn’t supposed to leak that information.

Dave kept his cool though. “No leads that I know of.”

Jerry pulled a white athletic sock out of his pocket and, after a swift glance around, poured out the contents. Two gold coins rested in his hand. “I fear their problems have come to Wagtail. I found these this morning.”

Dave grimaced. “And now they have your fingerprints all over them.” He produced a plastic zip top bag and held it open so they could fall into it. “I’ll check the reports to see if they match anything that has gone missing.”

“What’s going on at Snowball?” I asked.

“Big trouble,” said Oma. “Someone is stealing jewelry and small gold valuables. Entering hotel rooms and houses when no one is home. They will have a very poor ski season if they don’t find the culprits and put a stop to it.”

“Gold coins? Who brings gold coins to go skiing?”

“They’re popular investments,” said Dave. “Some of the people with vacation homes around here think it’s safer to stash them here than back in the city. It all started shortly after Sven won a gold coin in a poker game with some well-heeled guys over on Snowball Mountain last winter. Sven was so excited. It was the talk of Wagtail and Snowball.”

“I’m not exactly in that investment category, but if I had gold coins, I believe I’d keep them in a safe.”

Dave grinned. “You’d think so. The thieves bust into safes. But some people take pride in sewing them into mattresses and hiding them in fishing tackle boxes. One woman stashed her jewelry in a fake soup can and stuck it in her pantry.”

Jerry sat back, his arms folded over his chest. “Are you quite through? I knew you would gab.”

I was taken aback by his attitude. Excuse us for breathing.

“Where did you find these?” Dave asked as he examined the coins.

“Next to my front door, under a bush, like someone tossed them on my stoop and they slid off.”

I glanced at Dave. Was that some kind of warning to the mayor? Or a payoff to keep him quiet? It hadn’t worked if that was the case. It seemed to me that Sven’s death could have been connected to the gold coin he won but I didn’t dare say anything in front of Jerry.

Dave didn’t appear to be perturbed about it. “Holly’s the one who called in the explosion from the car last night.”

Oh, very nice. Switch the subject by bringing up my name.

The mayor glared at me as though he thought I had caused his problems. I followed Oma’s lead and didn’t let him suck me into his vortex of aggravation. I wondered if Oma knew what had happened to Mr. Luciano yet, but I decided this might not be the best time to bring it up. Besides, the blackberry syrup on my waffle tasted like summertime. I was far too engrossed in my delicious breakfast to be concerned about what Jerry thought of me. I did notice that he ate a little bit like the Jack Russell, fast—as if he hadn’t seen food in a while.

“I expected to receive a phone call last night about someone else who didn’t make it home, but it never happened. Whose car is it?” He might not have been happy about my presence, but genuine concern etched wrinkles into Jerry’s face.

Dave swallowed the last of his sausages. “I don’t know.”

“Well, what model of car was it?”

“Some kind of SUV. It’s nothing but a burned out hulk.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you down there right now figuring out who was in it?” Jerry fed Chief a piece of bacon.

I thought Dave might pop. “Good grief, Jerry. I was out there all night. Went home for a shower and a change of clothes because I was drenched and reeked of smoke. Then I thought I’d better check on Liesel. I’m headed back there as soon as I finish my breakfast. Since you’re so worried about it, why don’t you come along and see for yourself?”