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

“Absolutely.” I hurried back to my suite and placed a call to Dave. He didn’t answer his home phone or his cell phone. I left messages for him, telling him we’d discovered that someone with a golf club key ring was camping out in the attic of the inn. Given the circumstances, we thought he should be with us when we confronted the unofficial guest.

• • •

Not an hour later, I browsed through Pawsitively Decadent in search of turtles. Jackpot! Exactly what I wanted. Pecan turtles made fresh on the premises with bourbon and dipped in chocolate. I bought a box, which the saleswoman very kindly gussied up with the store ribbon of gold paw prints on a white satin background.

Too bad I couldn’t teach Trixie to carry it, since the gift really came from both of us. I had a sneaking suspicion she would rip it open and eat the contents given half a chance.

She accompanied me to HEAL!, where I sought out Eric, the pharmacist, and presented the turtles to him. “We wanted to thank you for helping us. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you called when you saw Trixie.”

He knelt and ruffled her fur. “It’s reward enough that she’s home safe and sound. We’ve had too much trouble in Wagtail this week. I’m glad there was good news, too.”

He must hear a lot of gossip. “Any word on whether they’re making progress on identifying the killer?”

“Everyone has a theory. The only thing we know for sure is that Mortie’s car was stolen from Northern Virginia. Not from Wagtail. So that means either the thief went up there to get it, or someone stole it from the thief.”

“How do you know that?”

“Police reports and gossip. The Snowball newspaper runs the police reports every week. It wasn’t reported stolen up here. I believe in coincidences, but I have trouble imagining that Mortie’s stolen car just happened to turn up here, you know?”

So did I. No wonder Mortie sent Ben to Wagtail. Someone from Wagtail had gone to a lot of trouble to steal Mortie’s car. I had to wonder if that person had known all along that he would use it to commit a murder. “Have they established that Mortie’s car is the one that hit Sven?”

“Everyone is assuming that’s the case.”

“Why Mortie’s car? Why not use another car that was more readily available?”

“Precisely. And then his daughter shows up with a lawyer in tow?”

“They were with me hours away from here when Sven was killed. There’s no way Kim or Mortie could be involved.”

“Ever hear of murder for hire?”

“Mortie paid someone to steal his car and commit murder?” It boggled my mind to even contemplate that scenario.

“Yeah, well, that’s where the whole thing falls apart, isn’t it?”

The door to the pharmacy slammed open, and I recognized Casey’s shock of dark hair, but he didn’t even bother stepping inside. “Eric! They’re arresting Holmes!”

Thirty-nine

I ran out of the store, Trixie bounding along, sensing excitement. We trailed Casey by fifteen feet. He headed for Oak Street.

A police car was parked in front of Rose’s house. It seemed like the whole town had gathered to see what was going on. Tiny, Brewster, Shelley, Philip, Prissy. I knew many of the faces.

The door to Rose’s house hung open. Holmes walked out, raised his arm and waved, more like an athlete who’d scored than someone in trouble with the law.

I dodged everyone to get to him. “Holmes! What’s going on?”

“Stand back, Holly.” Dave sounded tired.

I walked along to the car with them.

Holmes squeezed my shoulder. “Not to worry. I haven’t done anything.”

He wasn’t in handcuffs. Maybe that was a good sign. “Then why are they arresting you?”

“I’m not under arrest. I’m going to Snowball voluntarily just to talk.”

“No! Don’t say anything. Don’t you watch TV shows about crime? Don’t say a word.”

“Holl, I have nothing to hide. I didn’t do anything.”

He bent to wedge into the backseat of the police car.

I whipped around and faced Dave. “I felt sorry for you. But this isn’t right. You’ve got the wrong man.”

Quietly, almost apologetically, Dave said, “Motive, means, and we have an eyewitness who can place him at the scene and running away.”

“He was jogging!” My voice rose, not nearly as calm and controlled as Dave’s.

“How do you know that?” Dave slid into the car and shut the door.

Even though he couldn’t hear me, I whispered, “Because he told me so.” It wasn’t enough. Even I knew that.

Compelled to watch the police car leave, I stayed until it disappeared from sight, as though I thought it would help Holmes in some way.

The crowd dispersed, and Philip approached me.

“I apologize for coming on so strong, Holly. The prospect of a relationship with someone like you was . . . intoxicating. I think I was a little bit giddy. I hope Ben appreciates you as much as I would.” He touched my shoulder gently. “I’m here for you if it doesn’t work out.”

I thanked him. At least he had backed off. At the moment, I couldn’t have cared less about Philip or a relationship with Ben. Holmes was in trouble. I dragged home, numb with despair.

Zelda hugged me when I returned to the inn. “Your grandmother said to tell you that you’re in charge. She drove Rose over to Snowball because Rose is too upset to drive. They’re going to find Holmes a lawyer.”

A lawyer! I knew a lawyer. “Thanks, Zelda.” I removed Trixie’s leash and ran to Oma’s office to look up the phone number for Mortie’s cabin. When I called, Kim didn’t want to put Ben on the phone. I held my temper in check when I insisted, but my nerves had been stretched to the point of fraying.

I explained the situation to Ben. “Can you go over there and bail him out?”

“There’s no bail yet if he’s not under arrest.”

“Can’t you do something to help him?”

“Actually, I can’t. There could be a conflict of interest.”

“Is that another way of saying that you expect Mortie to be charged with murder?”

“No!”

“Then where’s the conflict? Why does Mortie need representation anyway?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

Steaming mad, I said good-bye and hung up the phone.

Zelda leaned against the doorframe. “Holmes didn’t do it.”

“I know. Why would someone steal Mortie’s car to use in a homicide?”

“Because he didn’t want to use his own car.” She let out a little screech and her eyes opened wide. “Because he wanted to frame Mortie!”

“That,” I pointed at her, “is the first plausible explanation I have heard.”

Zelda beamed. “But it wouldn’t work unless Mortie was actually here when the murder happened.”

“Good point. And the car was reported stolen, so that would let Mortie off the hook in any case. Then why would he send Ben up here? Unless . . . unless the car wasn’t actually stolen.”

“Yes!” Zelda shouted. But her enthusiasm waned quickly. “How exactly would that work?”

“I don’t know. We should be concentrating on Jerry’s murder anyway. That’s the one they think Holmes committed.”

Zelda paced to the French doors. “If Brewster hadn’t seen him running away from Jerry’s house that morning—”

“Brewster?” I sat up straight. Now there was a coincidence. “Brewster is the one who saw Holmes there?”

Zelda turned around. “Sure. Brewster is Jerry’s neighbor. Makes perfect sense.”

“And Brewster brought Dolce back to Ellie,” I mused.

“He loves dogs, especially his Irish setter, Murphy. I’m not surprised that he brought Dolce home. He would have known who Dolce was.” She squinted at me. “Do you find that odd for some reason?”