Murder, She Barked

Twenty

Ben and Kim sat at a table with Oma. What were they doing here? The text. He’d come to propose in person! But why did he bring Kim?

Ben motioned me over to the table.

I scanned the floor. No sign of the dog. Turning to Zelda, I asked, “Where’s the dog? You said she was here.”

“Oh, honey! I’m so sorry. I meant,” she lowered her tone, “her.”

Kim. She’d meant Kim.

Ben rose to greet me. “You look like you’ve been crawling through the woods.” He grazed my cheek with a kiss, reached up, and tugged a twig out of my hair.

I had to admit that Kim couldn’t have looked more beautiful. Beaming, you might say. Had I been too quick to trust Ben with her?

I said good morning to everyone, painfully aware of my appearance. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll run upstairs and wash up.”

“Is that blood on your face?” asked Kim.

I’d forgotten about the blood on my hands. I must have touched my face. “Probably.”

Zelda fell in step with me as I hurried toward the main staircase. “I’m so sorry. But there’s someone better out there for you. I’m sure of it.”

I paused. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, honey, they’ve been . . . together.”

It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Nevertheless, I wasn’t sure I was ready to concede that anything had happened between them. “You read people’s minds, too?”

She fidgeted with a button on her blouse. “Not usually. But I’m sensitive enough to pick up on some things.”

She seemed so sad that I blurted, “They used to date.”

“Oh! I’m not usually that far off. Still, I’d watch out for her.”

I trudged up the stairs. Zelda had to be wrong. He would never have texted a proposal, awful as that was, if he had gotten involved with Kim again. When I reached my suite, the door stood open, a cleaning cart parked outside the doorway. I stepped around it, and a petite woman with a jet-black ponytail and intelligent dark eyes jerked upright from dusting the coffee table.

She held up a finger over her lips in a sign to be quiet and pointed toward the terrace.

I tiptoed over. Had she brought her baby to work?

And there, on a chaise longue, upside down, all four feet in the air, twitching as though she was running, was my dog. I didn’t care if I woke her. Laughing, I swept her up in my arms.

“Don’t ever do that again! Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

She licked the tip of my nose and proceeded to wash my chin. When I lowered her to the ground, she stood on her hind legs and placed her paws on my thighs. I bent over, and she buried her head into me, her tail wagging like crazy.

I pulled the inn collar out of my pocket and fastened it onto her. “No one takes this off except for me. Okay?”

The cleaning woman had left when we went inside.

The dog trotted alongside me to the bedroom and never let me out of her sight. Not even while I took the world’s quickest shower. She positioned herself outside the bathroom door, which I left open for her benefit. I blew my hair halfway dry, leaving it straight and simple.

My meager selection of clothes couldn’t match Kim’s designer outfit. I decided on the khaki trousers with a sleeveless white turtleneck. It wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but it was quintessential daytime attire for Wagtail.

Filled with joy at having my little friend back, I looped the leash under her collar, and the two of us went to breakfast.

Oma cried out and clapped her hands together when she saw the dog. “Where did you find her?”

As if she understood, the Jack Russell tugged me to Oma and reached up to her to be petted.

Kim fussed over her, too.

Even Shelley raced to us. “I’m so glad she’s back!” She bent to the dog. “You must be starved. How about a nice bracing bowl of oatmeal with chicken and apples?” Looking my way, she added, “Our special today is two eggs over easy, with home fries, buttered toast, and bacon. We also serve a dog version of that.”

The dog would probably be happy with anything. “We’ll both have that. And a pot of tea for me, please.”

Ben seemed surprised. “That’s a hearty breakfast.”

“You weren’t out climbing a mountain this morning.” Maybe that was too defensive. “I can’t believe you drove all the way up here!” It blew me away. Ben didn’t even miss work if he had a cold, but he’d taken time off to be with me. That meant a lot. Zelda had to be wrong.

“Daddy insisted.” Kim nibbled at a blueberry muffin.

“There’s an issue with a car that belonged to Mortie,” explained Ben. “I need to speak to an Officer Dave Quinlan.”

“This is work?” So much for thinking he’d come because of me. On the other hand, maybe he’d used the car as an excuse to talk Mortie into sending him up here. “You must be beat after driving all night.”

“It wasn’t so bad. We arrived around midnight.” Kim chugged black coffee.

“Midnight?” Where had they slept?

Ben speared a piece of kiwi on his plate. “A fine young fellow named Casey put me in a room called Chew.”

“I thought he should come with me. I hate being in the cabin all alone.” Kim wrinkled her nose. “It’s not too far from here by golf cart, though.”

Shelley brought me a pot of water and English Breakfast tea bags.

I poured the steaming water into a mug, dunked a tea bag into it, and added milk and sugar. “I’ll call Dave to let him know that you’re here.”

“Your grandmother has been telling us about these horrible crimes. I don’t know if he’ll have much time for us with two murders on his hands.” Kim pushed a lock of expertly curled hair off her face.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to say it. “I think Dave will have time for you since it was your father’s car that killed Sven.”

Guilt swelled through me as soon as I spoke.

Kim turned green and sputtered coffee onto her plate. “It was stolen! He reported it stolen weeks ago.”

Ben turned to her and spoke with steely determination. “What did we talk about on the way up here? You don’t say anything to anyone about this.”

“But we’re among friends.”

Ben remained calm, but I heard the exasperation in his tone. “Everyone includes friends, too. How hard is that to understand?”

Kim tucked her chin in, like a scolded child. An appropriate response, I thought. Ben didn’t need to be so harsh with her. Unless . . . unless she was involved in some way.

She couldn’t have been the driver. She’d been with us when the call came from Rose. How would I react if I knew my father’s car had been used to kill someone? I’d probably turn green, too.

That reminded me of Ben’s car and the mess inside it. I had to get it cleaned—pronto! And I had to talk to Oma, or perhaps to Zelda or Shelley. Maybe they knew more about the phone call regarding Dolce the night Sven was killed.

Shelley delivered my breakfast and a cute tiny version for the dog—one egg surrounded by a few home fries, sprinkled with bits of bacon. A teensy wedge of toast stood at an angle as a garnish.

The dog ate like she was starved, but I left my meal for a moment, made an excuse, and followed Shelley to the kitchen.

Her wavy hair, the color of light brown sugar, was pulled back into a loose bun again. Small tendrils around her face had worked their way loose. Her skin was like porcelain. Whispering, I asked if she was working the night Sven was killed.

“I worked that day, but I left in the afternoon. Is something up?”

“I’m just trying to get some things straight in my head, that’s all. I thought you might know more about the phone call regarding Dolce.”

“Chloe would know. She was working that night. Would you like me to call her?”

“Chloe? Sven’s girlfriend?”

“I don’t know that it had gone that far, but they were working toward it. She’s a friend of mine. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“That would be great. Thanks, Shelley.”

She placed a comforting hand on my arm. “We’re all rooting for you, by the way. Would you like me to spill a pot of coffee on her?”

It took me a second to realize she meant Kim. I giggled. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a feeling she has much bigger troubles. It’s nice to know you’ve got my back, though.”

Ben accosted me as soon as I returned to the table. “This isn’t your grandmother’s dog?”

I swear she lifted her lip at him, showing him tiny front teeth. “She’s mine. She still needs a name, though.”

“Trouble,” muttered Ben.

Kim laughed, but I dug into my breakfast. Now that she was back, I had every intention of keeping her. The subject was not open to discussion or negotiation.

Happily, the conversation moved to the subject of Kim’s father, Mortie. Oma knew him fairly well and gave the impression of liking him.

“So, Kim, what do you do that you’re able to take time off to come up here?” I asked in between bites of salted, slightly spicy potatoes, crispy on the outside but soft and warm inside.

She held her coffee mug in both hands and rested her elbows on the table. “I work for myself. I’m a day trader.”

“Apparently, a pretty good one,” said Ben. “She’s given Mortie some great tips.”

She waved him off, like she was embarrassed, but she moistened her lip with her tongue and tossed her hair back.

Shelley brought me a fresh pot of hot water, leaned over, and whispered, “Chloe will meet you at Café Shot at eleven.”

I could hardly wait. For some reason that I didn’t understand, I felt the need to be rid of Ben and Kim for that event. It didn’t make sense to me that I should feel that way. I chalked it up to instinct.

After breakfast, I rushed Kim and Ben out to the front porch, where Gingersnap made a beeline for them. Kim rubbed her head and told her what a pretty girl she was.

Ben grabbed my hand. “Holl, we need to talk.”

People never had anything good or happy to say when they broke it to you like that. He would undoubtedly pressure me to give away the adorable dog. No way.

“Maybe later. Excuse me.” I hurried to the reception desk to call Dave.

“So this is your scamp!” Zelda rubbed the dog behind her ears while I left a message for Dave. “What about naming her Scamp? She’s certainly been up to tricks.”

Her ears perked up.

“Or Scampi? She’s a little shrimp,” said Zelda.

I hung up the phone and tried it out. “Scampi? Is that your name?”

“Scampi!” called Oma, bending and holding her hand out to her.

But the scamp didn’t budge. She just stood there, wagging her tail. Not that I blamed her. I’d been called a shrimp plenty of times and had never particularly liked it.

Zelda circled her hand under her chin again. “She’s thrilled to be home.”

You didn’t have to be a psychic to figure that out. Zelda struck me as a lovely person, but I found it hard to believe that people paid her for that kind of insight.

“She says her name is Bad Dog.”

Oma turned away quickly to hide a smile.

“I’m not naming a dog Bad Dog!” Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. “What else did you say a minute ago?” I asked. “She liked something.”

“Hmm. I said she’d been up to tricks.”

And just like that, she ran to Zelda.

“Trixie. That’s her name.” I knelt and called out, “Trixie, come!”

Clearly thrilled by the attention, she dashed to me, her tail wagging so hard that I didn’t need Zelda to interpret her thoughts.

I reached down to pat her. “No more Bad Dog. You’re Trixie now.” She cocked her head to the side and held up her right paw. I shook it. We had a deal.

Oma laughed and retreated to her office.

I whispered to Zelda. “Keep an eye on Oma for me? I have an appointment.”

“Eleven at Café Shot.”

“How could you possibly have known that?”

She shrugged and said, “I’m psychic.”

I narrowed an eye and gave her a skeptical look.

She bounced up on her toes and then down again. “Okay. Chloe called me. She wanted to know about you.”

Of course. The people who worked at the inn were hardwired into each other’s lives. “What did you tell her?”

“That you are exactly like your grandmother.”

People had said worse things about me. “Can I take Trixie into Café Shot?”

“Honey, there isn’t anywhere in Wagtail that you can’t take Trixie. That’s what we’re all about.”

I waved and left through the reception door to avoid walking by Kim and Ben on the front porch. They’d see me strolling up the shopping area if they were paying attention. There wasn’t much I could do about that.

A lovely, wide brick walkway lined on both sides by manicured shrubs led us to The Blue Boar. We dodged around the front of the restaurant and walked as fast as I could go. There wasn’t much doubt in my mind that Trixie would have dashed ahead if she weren’t on a leash. How would she ever get enough exercise if I couldn’t take her off the leash? This baby needed to run. Dog school was definitely in order.

I passed cafés and restaurants with outdoor tables. Why hadn’t I asked Zelda for the exact location of Café Shot?

A woman browsed at books on rolling shelves outside of Tall Tails Bookstore.

I asked if she knew the location of Café Shot.

She pointed across the walking zone. “Outsiders never get it. It’s cute, but not obvious.”

Across the way, tables clustered before an arched double door with large windows on both sides. Over the top of the entrance were the words Café Chat. Sleek, stylized cats curved to create the capital Cs. I stared at it for a minute, thinking the woman had misunderstood me. And then it dawned on me. Chat was pronounced something like “shot” and meant “cat” in French—a bilingual double entendre.

I thanked the woman and hastened over. As I approached, I scanned people at the tables for a young woman sitting alone and spotted her right away. Chloe had curly strawberry blonde hair that bushed out around her shoulders. Pale and so thin she seemed fragile, she fidgeted, twisting a ring on her middle finger and glancing about nervously. When I introduced myself, I realized that carefully applied makeup had hidden dark circles under her eyes, but nothing could conceal the red rims, no doubt from crying.

A handsome waiter scurried over to our table. He could hardly take his eyes off her. We ordered café au laits and croissants. I was going to have to embark on a major diet when I went home. Much to my surprise, Trixie sat quietly next to my chair, taking everything in.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “Am I fired? Please don’t fire me. I love working at the Sugar Maple Inn.”