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

My dreaded Aunt Birdie marched toward us. Even Mr. Luciano paced on the plaza, checking his watch every few seconds.

Oma hobbled up behind us and peered at the receiver in my hand. “That collar is coming back on its own. It’s only twenty-five feet away.”

I held my breath, waiting for the little signal on the gizmo to turn away. Instead the number of feet continued to decrease.

Thirty-three

A lone figure broke out of the crowd and headed straight for us. A loosely-knit sweater hung on her frail frame. The woman who had pocketed the ballet slippers at the shoe store walked up the steps. “Mrs. Miller?”

“Hazel Mae!” exclaimed Oma. “Did you walk all the way down here?”

“I’m used to it.” She held out her hands, offering Oma the GPS collar. “My kids found this collar in the woods near our house this morning. It says Sugar Maple Inn on it. I figure it belongs to you.”

Oma took the collar. “My goodness! What was it doing all the way up there? Thank you, Hazel Mae. Could I offer you some apple cider or a cup of tea?”

“Oh, no thanks! That’s not necessary.”

“Well, let me give you something for your trouble.” Oma pulled some bills from her pocket and pressed them into Hazel Mae’s hand. “Now, don’t you fight me on this. It would have cost much more to replace that collar. Take it and buy a little treat for your children.”

I thought Hazel Mae might cry. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller.” Her voice cracked with emotion when she spoke. She turned and walked away, her head high.

“I’ll reimburse you,” I whispered.

“Nonsense. I would have found a way to get some money into her hands. This provided an excellent excuse.”

Before we could scatter, Aunt Birdie was upon us. “Well, well. Wouldn’t you think a niece would bring her fiancé by and introduce him to her only aunt?”

Birdie wasn’t my only aunt, and she knew it. Seemed futile to point that out to her. Was it a slight to offend Oma by pretending her daughter wasn’t my aunt as well? I thought it better to overlook it. “Aunt Birdie, I’d like you to meet Ben Hathaway. Ben, this is my aunt, Birdie Dupuy.”

They shook hands. Birdie had the nerve to look him up and down like he was livestock for sale.

I felt obligated to clarify our relationship, especially in light of his recent I-hereby-rescind text, so I continued, “We were never engaged, Aunt Birdie. And actually, we’re now just friends.”

Holmes’s head swiveled so fast that it sent a jolt of hopefulness through me. Wrinkles creased his forehead. I wanted to think he was conveying a silent question. Maybe. But Ben shot me a curious glance, too.

“Hmmpf. Well, I’m glad to hear that—given that he’s shacking up with Mortie’s daughter.”

Ben’s face flushed. Even practicing law hadn’t prepared him for the taunts of someone like my Aunt Birdie.

“It’s not what you think!” he sputtered.

The joys of small town life! So little got by the residents. Rumors flew fast and thick. Yet no one had information about who murdered Sven and Jerry? Impossible. Someone knew something regarding the murders. But why wouldn’t that person step forward and tell Dave what he knew?

Aunt Birdie pinched my arm. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? Have you no manners, Holly? Do you expect me to stand out here on the porch all day?”

I was doomed. “Would you like to have a seat out here? Maybe some hot cider?”

“Still on the porch? What does a person have to do to be invited inside?”

There was no salvaging the situation.

Oma surprised me by stating in a no-nonsense voice, “This isn’t a good time for a visit, Birdie. I’m letting the entire staff go to Sven’s memorial service in about an hour. Holly is the only one who didn’t know him, so I’m counting on her to stay behind and take care of the guests while we’re over in Snowball.”

Sad as I was about Sven, I had to bite my upper lip to suppress a grin. Oma came up with a humdinger. No one, especially Aunt Birdie, who set so much stock in manners and social niceties, could argue with a memorial service.

It worried me that her expression changed from a storm cloud to pleasant, almost gleeful.

“How thoughtless of me. I understand completely.” She took in Oma’s black pantsuit, accessorized with a geometric black and white silk scarf. “If you only have an hour, I’d best be on my way so you can dress appropriately.”

Birdie walked down the stairs like a beauty queen, head high, back erect, as though she floated effortlessly.

The four of us released a collective sigh of relief. We turned and hustled inside, where everyone spoke at once.

“Great excuse, Oma!” I said. “Thanks for getting me off the hook.”

“Are you really related to that . . . that awful woman?” asked Ben.

Holmes shook his head. “Birdie never changes. What did your dad call her? The wicked witch of Wagtail?”

“How dare she suggest I change clothes?” Oma grumbled. “What’s wrong with this outfit?”

We assured her that she looked fine.

“Holly, I’m afraid it’s not just an excuse. I do need you to look after things while we’re gone.”

“Shouldn’t I go with you?”

“Now, don’t start that again. I won’t have you sleeping by my door or pretending to be a bodyguard. Besides, Holmes is driving Rose and me.”

At her reminder, Holmes said good-bye and sprinted down the stairs, heading for his parent’s house to change clothes.

“Could I have a second with you, Holly?” asked Ben.

Oma left us alone, saying to meet her in the office so she could explain a few things.

Ben, Trixie, and I edged over to a quiet corner of the front porch.

“What’s this about just being friends?” he asked. “I know we have issues—like the dog. But I thought we were on track for you to move in with me eventually. Maybe soon if you don’t find a job.”

I gave him my very best you-have-to-be-kidding look.

“I know you’re not excited about moving into my place, but I didn’t think we were over.”

“How can you say that?” How could he not understand what he had done? Although he approached our relationship like a business transaction, and ineptly at that, even a businessman would have been stunned by the retraction. The funny thing was that I didn’t feel heartbroken. A little bit out of sorts, perhaps, because it heralded a major change in my life, in my plans, in my future, but not heartbroken. Maybe Rose had been correct. Maybe Ben wasn’t the right guy for me after all. “‘I hereby rescind’ is pretty final, don’t you think?”

In a rare speechless moment, Ben studied me. “Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please! Your text. I believe it said, so eloquently and full of emotion and love, ‘I hereby rescind all offers of marriage,’ or something to that effect.”

“I never texted you that.”

“You’re going to deny it? I can show you the text!”

He rubbed his fingertips against each other beneath his chin. “What time was it sent?”

“I don’t know exactly. During the night.” And just like that I knew what he was thinking. “Kim.”

“That’s my guess. Holly, I’m very sorry. That must have been devastating to you, especially after all my offers to have you move in.”

The trouble was that it hadn’t been particularly hurtful. “Ben, I’m not moving in with you. I thought I was fairly pragmatic about love. Realistic and not prone to hearts and lace and romance. Apparently I was wrong. I suppose things could change between us, and I might feel differently in the future, but I do know that I will never marry someone who texts a proposal.”