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

“Probably plenty. She can be pretty hardheaded. She’s run this inn by herself for long time. She’s sure to have clashed with some people. I need to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with her.”

“So this Sven guy died because he was just being a nice guy, trying to help out a couple of old ladies and a dog?”

“Looks like that might be the case. I can’t bear to think that. Maybe I’m wrong about all of it. What did Dave say this morning?”

“Not much. He asked questions about the car. Where it was located when it was stolen, that kind of thing.”

I peered at him. Something was up. Those questions should have been answered by Mortie. “Why did you really come to Wagtail?”

“Mortie sent me to straighten out this business about his car.”

“What’s to straighten out? It was stolen. Mortie and his family were with us when Sven was killed. If it was his car that hit Sven, then it’s pretty clear that someone else was driving it.”

Something flickered in his expression. “I can’t talk to you about the details. Mortie needed somebody to watch over her.”

“Her? You’re babysitting Kim?”

“It’s not like that. He’s just a concerned father.”

Really? Concerned about what? Kim was a grown woman. Were her parents so determined to hitch their daughter to Ben’s wagon that they threw them together? Or was Kim somehow involved in this mess? “Where’s your ward now?”

“She’s not a ward, Holly. She went back to her cabin to do her nails.”

I burst out laughing. “She gave you the slip!”

“Did not.”

“Honey, a woman like Kim doesn’t do her own nails, and she sure wouldn’t go back to the cabin, where she doesn’t like to be alone.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “Why would she ditch me?”

“I don’t know. Why do you have to babysit her?”

Ben picked up the chair and returned it to the lawn. “Well, come on. Where’s my car?”

Eek! “A golf cart will get you there faster.” I had to get his car cleaned immediately!

We raced up to the inn. Trixie beat us to the door and waited impatiently, dancing in circles.

Zelda fixed up Ben with a golf cart.

The minute he left, I said, “You’ve got to help me. Who can detail a car around here?”

“Tiny does a lot of odd jobs like that.” She picked up a walkie-talkie. “Tiny, could you come to reception, please?”

“He’s here?”

“He keeps the grounds in shape and does handyman work for your grandmother.”

“You’re wonderful.” Relief and hope that the car could be cleaned surged through me.

Ten minutes later, Tiny was shampooing the carpets, and I breathed easier. Now to deal with Oma.

I braced myself and marched into her office. She worked at her desk. Trixie ran around the desk to Oma and placed her forepaws on Oma’s chair.

Oma smiled at Trixie and fussed over her, telling her what a smart dog she was to come home. “Your expression tells me that you are unhappy about something, Holly.”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

She rose from her chair and focused on something outside the French doors. “What do you mean?”

I closed the door in case Zelda was listening. “I think that the person who killed Sven meant to kill you.”

She turned toward me and smiled briefly. Smiled!

Her expression became serious. “I am aware of this. It troubles me greatly, of course. Imagine anyone being so angry with me that he should wish me dead.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the moment Ellie told me that she didn’t realize Dolce had gotten out. Someone orchestrated that horror, and it wasn’t Sven he was after.”

“I have a proposition.” I held up my hand, ready for her automatic refusal. “Please think about this. What if you and Rose went to my house to stay for a week or two? I could probably manage the inn without burning it down.”

“You would do that for me?” She seemed interested.

“Of course!” Maybe she would take me up on it. “The two of you could have a little vacation, take in the sites, visit the Smithsonian, maybe go to a play at the Kennedy Center.”

She cupped my face in her hands. “I love you, too, my little Holly.”

“Wonderful!” I gave her a big hug. I would feel better the minute she left town. “Let’s call Rose so she can start packing. Then you can show me what’s going on over the next week or two.”

She returned to her desk and slid on reading glasses. “I am not running away from this . . . this villainous individual. This is my home. We will find Sven’s killer and bring him to justice.”

“We?”

Twenty-four

“You, Dave, and me,” said Oma. “You will tell Dave, and we will assist him in uncovering the killer.”

“Whoa. This isn’t Murder, She Wrote .” Sometimes I thought Oma fancied herself a Mrs. Fletcher. “This is a flesh and blood, real live killer who put a lot of thought into murdering you. And he came—” I raised my hand with my thumb and forefinger an inch apart “—this close to doing it, too.”

Her mouth twitched to the side. At least she was taking it seriously.

“Please reconsider my offer for you to stay at my place for a while.” I picked up a stack of papers on her desk and tapped them into a neat pile. The color brochure advertised Mystery Weekends at the Sugar Maple Inn .

I waved one at her. “You can’t be serious?”

“People love those weekends. We are always sold out, and when they leave, some people book ahead for the next year. You would enjoy them! Or don’t you like mysteries anymore now that you’re all grown up?”

“I love mysteries, but that doesn’t make me Nancy Drew.”

She shook her head sadly. “You were so much more fun when you were younger. When did you turn into such a dry person? You’re like a piece of zwieback.”

“Excuse me for being concerned about the fact that someone is trying to murder you. It’s not a game! You, yourself, said that he planned it very carefully. You don’t think this person is going to try again? He or she could be on his way at this very moment. Or worse, he or she could already be here, staying in the inn.” I sighed, loudly.

“What do you want from me, Holly? I refuse to run away in fear. Let’s say I take a vacation and go to your house—what happens if the killer isn’t found in a week or two weeks? I never come home to Wagtail? No, this is not a solution.”

“Okay, then tell me who you suspect.” Dave needed leads. People with motives.

Now Oma fidgeted with papers, shuffling them and rearranging them. “I don’t know. I have always been very outspoken, as I’m sure you realize. There were hot tempers about turning Wagtail into a pet friendly town. Many residents were against it, vehemently so. Including your Aunt Birdie.”

“You think Aunt Birdie gunned that car at you?”

“No! I’m simply saying that she was opposed to the plan. And she has never liked me.”

“I suppose the list includes Peaches Clodfelter and her dreadful daughter, Prissy.”

“Nonsense. Peaches and I coexist. She holds a grudge but that goes back many years. I hardly think she would have waited until now to take such dire action. At least we know Jerry can’t be a suspect. We certainly had our differences, but now he has been killed.”

I let her keep talking, but it dawned on me that just because Jerry was dead didn’t mean he hadn’t tried to knock her off. In fact—now that I thought about it—maybe Jerry had tried to kill Oma, and someone had murdered him in revenge.

“I get along with most of the people in Wagtail and consider them dear friends.”