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

“Aw, come on.” Holmes slung an arm around Dave’s shoulders. “We’ve known each other forever. I don’t hold a grudge against you. You’re just doing your job.”

“Well, I’m madder than I’ve ever been at anybody.” Rose’s voice soared to a shrill pitch. “What the devil do you think you’re doing? Leave Holmes alone! Don’t you tell me you came to arrest him!”

Dave didn’t rise to her bait. Low and level, he said, “That’s not why I’m here. I apologize for interrupting your dinner. Holly, could I have a word with you?”

“Sure.” I stepped into the empty dining area. Trixie followed, and I closed the door behind us. “You’re early.”

“Don’t want to miss him.”

We walked up the stairs. I spoke in a loud voice in case anyone was listening. “You’ll be amazed by the third-floor suite. I think it would be just the place for your cousin’s honeymoon.”

A smile twitched on his lips. “She’s very picky.”

“She’ll love it! We can take some pictures to send her if you like.”

We reached the third level, and he muttered, “It disturbs me that you’re good at this.”

“Did Holmes’s hair match the ones you collected at the crime scene?”

Dave stopped dead. He exhaled and chuckled. “Holmes is no dummy. No, they didn’t match.”

“What does the hair look like?”

He paused and assessed me as though weighing how much to tell me. “Weird hair. Most of it has been sent to Richmond for analysis.”

“Weird? What does that mean? Dog fur or something?”

“Or something. Maybe a toy. It’s a mixture of human hair and some kind of synthetic hair.”

I gasped. “Jerry’s extended arm—he must have been holding something the killer wanted. So maybe it was a burglary! But who would kill over a toy?”

Dave didn’t say another word.

I pulled a duplicate key to the storage room out of my pocket. “Are you all by yourself? Shouldn’t you have backup?”

“I’ve got a backup in the parking lot, one on the front porch, and another in the lobby.”

He strode over to the bed. “No one has been here. Nothing has been moved. Okay, Holl. Thanks.”

I’d been dismissed. I handed him the duplicate key to the room. “Just in case you need it.” I called to Trixie and locked Dave inside.

Forty-one

When I returned to her kitchen, Oma was rinsing the dishes.

“Holmes and Rose left?” I asked.

“Poor Rose. We told her to take a sleeping pill so she could get some rest. Holmes is everything to her.” Oma smiled tearfully. “Like you are to me. I don’t know what I’d do in her shoes.”

“I do. You’d try to figure out who really killed Jerry.”

“It’s not as easy as it is on TV shows.”

“Oma, what’s the deal with Mortie?”

She rinsed a dish and slid it into the dishwasher. “What do you mean?”

“You seem to know him fairly well . . .”

“Oh, that. Wagtail is such a small place. I had met him a few times. He put up extra guests here occasionally. Then when Kim was fourteen, she ran away from home with a seventeen-year-old boy. Mortie called and asked me to keep a lookout for her. I found them at Mortie’s cabin, sent the boy packing, and kept Kim here for a few hours until her father arrived to pick her up. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, except they discovered later that the boy was a drug dealer. Very bad news.”

That explained a lot. No wonder Mortie continued to be grateful to Oma even after all these years. “Why did he send Ben to watch over her? She’s an adult now. Mortie still doesn’t trust Kim?”

Oma turned to me and winced. “I might have had a hand in that. Mortie called to see how I was doing.”

“Uh-huh.” I waited, certain that wasn’t all.

“The subject of the Ben might have come up.” She averted her eyes and busied herself sweeping imaginary crumbs off the island. “Mortie and his wife wouldn’t mind seeing him back together with Kim. He’s a stabilizing influence on her.”

“So you suggested they throw them together?”

She held up a cautionary forefinger. “That was not my idea. Kim insisted on coming here, and Mortie was worried about her.”

“As well he should have been. She’s been sneaking out at night. She’s the one who tried to steal Trixie.”

Oma plopped her fists on her hips. “What a terrible thing to do! I knew she was devious, but not cruel.”

I couldn’t help being a little bit resentful. The whole thing was a setup. Ben hadn’t come because of me at all.

“Butterscotch hot cider?” she asked.

“Butterscotch?”

“I add butterscotch schnapps. It’s very popular with guests.”

“Okay. Not much schnapps, though. We want to be alert tonight.”

I pulled out a pot and poured in cider to heat up. Oma finished tidying and handed me two glass mugs with butterscotch schnapps in the bottoms. I poured the steaming liquid over the top, and the scent of crisp apples wafted up.

When we sat comfortably before the fire, the dogs lay at our feet, but Twinkletoes had vanished. I told Oma about Kim visiting Brewster in the middle of the night.

“I hope it’s not Brewster who will show up for the keys. He’s a big man. He could overpower Dave.”

I assured her Dave had backups all over the inn. “And he seems to think it might be a woman. It would be nice to have radio contact with him so we would know what was happening.”

Oma nodded. “Unfortunately, when something does happen, I fear everyone in the inn will be awakened.”

“Oma, I don’t mean to pry, but where did you go the other night? And how did you get out without Casey or me seeing you?”

She laughed so hard that she slapped her knee. “Now, now, Holly. Even a grandmother gets to have a few secrets.”

“Please?”

“Once a week, Thomas—”

“The owner of The Blue Boar?”

“The very same. He and I gather our leftovers and take them up to Hazel Mae’s house.”

“In the middle of the night? You just leave them there?”

She smiled. “Sneaky of us, isn’t it?”

“Don’t they spoil during the night?”

“She has a refrigerator on the back porch. We put everything in there.”

“And no one hears you?”

“With all those children? One has to assume that someone has heard us.”

“So they know it’s you.”

“Probably. But it permits them to save face. They’re too proud to take charity.”

I sat up. “Hazel Mae isn’t too proud to steal.” I told Oma about seeing her take the ballet shoes.

“Most of the merchants like to help them out.”

“Isn’t that setting them up for trouble? Maybe someone should give them jobs.”

Oma clucked. “Hazel Mae takes in laundry, and Del mows lawns in the summer and shovels walks in the winter, but it’s not enough to support their big family. Besides, Hazel Mae will find a way to reimburse the shop owner for those shoes. She does her best to pay everyone back with some act of kindness. Perhaps it seems odd to you, but Hazel Mae and Del are part of the marvelous diversity that weaves into the Wagtail fabric. We take care of our own here.”

At ten o’clock, we turned in. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, especially across the hall from the action—if there was any. No wonder Dave had been adamant about keeping quiet. It would be easy to tip off the killer and inadvertently cause him to stay away.

Since my arrival, I’d done little in my lovely suite except shower and sleep. Restless, I puttered around, incredulous that Holmes had managed to carve the wonderful space out of the attic. Trixie followed me through the rooms until a little, mostly white tornado tore through. Trixie yelped and chased her.