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

She glanced out the window. “I gotta get back to my tables, but just one more quick thing—you know that girl, Kim, that came in for breakfast? Her dad, Mortie, comes by the inn to see Mrs. Miller every time he’s in town. He always brings her flowers.”

She jumped up and returned to the terrace, all smiles and southern graciousness.

My head reeled from all the information she had spewed at me. Especially the part about Oma and Mortie. He was a good bit younger than Oma. I couldn’t imagine it was anything romantic. But flowers? That was hard to interpret in a different way.

I finished my burger and tea, told Trixie to stay, which I didn’t imagine she understood, took my dirty dishes into the kitchen, and stacked them to be washed.

Happily, Trixie had waited by the door. I patted her and rewarded her with a mini treat for being so good.

She readily went with me to meet the bride and her parents, who had brought along a short-haired red dachshund and a black lab who would be the ring bearer at the wedding.

Trixie chased and played with the Wheeler dogs as we strolled the lawn. I had seen enough weddings at the inn to be able to describe where the tent would go and where the bands usually set up. The lake cooperated by sparkling in the sunlight, the perfect opportunity for me to tell them how romantic it was when a full moon shone its beams on the water.

“It must be wonderful to live here,” said Mrs. Wheeler. “I’d love to take my little Schatzi everywhere with me.”

Mr. Wheeler nodded in agreement. “Not to mention the lack of traffic and noise. It’s so peaceful.”

If they only knew about the troubling undercurrents! But once the murderers had been arrested, Wagtail would be a charming place to live again. No wonder Holmes kept coming back. No sitting in rush-hour traffic. Clean air. Birds singing in the trees. Dogs and cats everywhere. It wasn’t surprising that the Wheelers liked it. They had left their lives, their problems, and headaches behind.

As Betsy and her parents discussed their plans, I couldn’t help wondering about my own wedding. What was it about weddings that made them so contagious? I pushed thoughts of Ben out of my head. Oma was far more important. I had to get her squared away first.

I led the Wheelers up to the terrace, inside to the dining area, showed off the new library, explained about the special cat rooms, and finally returned them to Oma’s office. They settled on the cushy chairs and the loveseat. Even though I’d recently eaten lunch, I longed to stay because a gorgeous platter of cake slices had magically appeared next to a silver coffee and tea service. Oma’s antique Empress Dresden Flowers china took me back to my childhood.

When I stayed with her, once a week Oma had sent the boys to do something rough-and-tumble, while Oma, my stuffed Steiff dog, Lassie, and I had a little tea party with her exquisite floral china. Colorful flowers rambled around the edges, interrupted by scrolls of gold. It hadn’t been in vogue for a very long time, yet there was something about afternoon tea that called for ornate, girly china.

As I closed the door behind me, I overheard Mr. Wheeler say he would like to book the entire inn for the weekend of the wedding. Whoa . “That’ll be a crazy weekend,” I said to Zelda.

She laughed. “It’s always like that around here. Sometimes I wonder if it’s not too much for Mrs. Miller. She rarely gets a day off. I think the last time she left was when she went to see your dad in Florida.”

Zelda introduced me to her replacement, who gave me a thumbs-up and promised to watch out for Oma. He handed me a pink message slip.

Zelda said apologetically, “He’s called here six times in the last hour.”

“I’m so sorry. I left my cell phone in my room.” I glanced at the message. Ben called. He can’t find Kim. That wasn’t terribly surprising. Something was up with her and that stolen car. I knew she had ditched him.

I used the inn’s phone to call Ben. His cell phone rang and rang, and finally rolled over to voice mail. I left a message.

I reached under the desk and borrowed a leash. “Is there a store in town that doesn’t belong to the Clodfelters where I could buy a collar and tag for Trixie?”

“Loads of them,” said Zelda, “though Prissy’s store is by far the largest and has the biggest selection. Not surprising, since it was funded by Mr. Wiggins. Personally, I like Puppy Love.”

Tiny trudged through the door. Handing me the keys to Ben’s car, he said, “I am really sorry I didn’t have more luck with the carpet. It’s still drying, but I don’t think those stains will ever come out. I tried three different stain removers. I’m afraid it’s as good as it’s ever gonna get.”

“Thanks, Tiny. What do I owe you?”

“Nothin’. I was happy to do it for you.”

“Oh no! You tell me what you charge for that kind of work.”

He stated a fair price, and I hurried upstairs with Trixie for my checkbook and wallet. He still chatted with Zelda on our return. I handed Tiny a check.

“I sure appreciate this.” He rubbed the back of his ear. “Both my kids need braces. Man, but they’re expensive. I need all the odd jobs I can get. You need anything else at all, you just call me.”

I slipped the leash around Trixie’s GPS collar. “Thanks for taking care of that for me, Tiny. Guess I’d better have a look.”

Zelda followed me outside. I opened the car door and stared at coffee-colored and orangey-red blotches that marred the carpet.

I winced. “Do you think it’s expensive to install new carpet in a car?”

“At least the leather seats cleaned up nicely.”

I couldn’t help liking Zelda. She might think she was an animal psychic, but she always seemed to look at the brighter side of life. “You’re absolutely right. How much could new carpet cost? It’s not like a whole room. Right?”

Her eyes big, Zelda lifted her shoulders in a shrug, and the two of us burst into nervous giggles. I picked up Trixie and looked her square in the eyes. “You’d better hope it’s not expensive.”

She wagged her tail and licked my nose. And didn’t look one bit concerned or remorseful.

We walked along the sidewalk to The Blue Boar. Suddenly, Zelda ran her fingers through her hair and fluffed it up. “There’s Philip,” she hissed. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

He stood in front of The Blue Boar, blocking our path and staring toward the inn.

“Hi.” It was simple, but let him know he was in our way.

He jerked in surprise and looked around at us. “Holly. Zelda.” Scratching the side of his neck, just under the collar of his button-down shirt, he said, “You might have told me who you were.”

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes, you! I had no idea you were a Wagtail Miller.”

“She’s Mrs. Miller’s granddaughter,” offered Zelda, clearly eager to jump into the conversation.

“So I hear. She was out slumming with the rest of us last night.”

Slumming? I didn’t know quite how to respond. What was he getting at? “I’d hardly call Hair of the Dog slumming.”

“No? Maybe not. I just meant there are only a few big names in town, and your grandmother ranks right up there.”

“She’s lived here for a long time. People will probably say the same sort of thing about you in a few years,” said Zelda.

He raised his eyebrows but appeared pleased by the thought.

“Holly!” Ben waved at me from across the plaza.

“Who’s that?” asked Philip.

“Her boyfriend.” Zelda had turned quite chatty.

Philip shot me an inquisitive look. “Must be serious if he followed you here.”

I didn’t go into details. What was I going to say? He’s not here because of me?