Murder, She Barked

Twenty-nine

“I can’t trust you not to say or do something that might get you into trouble,” said Ben, scowling at Kim. “I’m not losing you for hours again. I could use a leash for you.”

That was a fine excuse! Painfully aware that Holmes watched me, I tried to play it cool. “Do you need a chaperone?”

Kim’s eyes flickered over Holmes, head to toe. “Depends on who it is.”

“Down, Kim. He’s engaged.” I apologized for not introducing them.

Kim swayed a little, cocked her head again in her obnoxiously provocative way, and made eye contact with Holmes. “Engagements were made to be broken.”

Ben huffed.

“Well, hurry up! I don’t want to miss all of Yappy Hour.” Kim glanced at her wrist as though she’d forgotten she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Let’s all have dinner together. Won’t that be fun?”

I couldn’t think of many things that would be less fun.

But Holmes was game. “In an hour and a half at Hair of the Dog?”

Kim pouted. “Oh, not there.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t we go someplace more interesting? Let’s see, I feel like . . . barbecue!”

“Hot Hog, then.” Holmes stood up and stretched. “I’ll meet you there.”

• • •

At nine o’clock that night, Holmes walked Trixie and me back to the inn. During dinner, Kim had flirted with everyone except me. She knew no bounds. Ben, Holmes, the waiter—everyone seemed to love her.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” said Holmes, “but I don’t think I’d trust Kim alone with Ben.”

“She’s quite an operator. But I trust Ben. He’s too . . .” I stopped myself. I almost said he was too boring to have an affair! That was terrible on so many levels that it boggled my mind. “He’s too decent to have an affair.”

We walked up the front steps, and Twinkletoes greeted us at the front door, mewing and twisting around our ankles. She even touched noses with Trixie.

Holmes gazed at the guests milling around in the Dogwood Room. “Where do you suppose the dotty grandmothers are?”

Twinkletoes scampered through a dog door in the wall just past the dining tables.

The second I removed Trixie’s leash, she followed Twinkletoes.

“Kitchen.” We said it simultaneously.

I opened the door that bore the words Staff Only, and found that Oma’s private kitchen looked almost like I remembered it. Oma, Rose, and Gingersnap lounged comfortably before a blazing fire.

“I’m so glad you left the kitchen intact!” I gushed. “I always loved this room.”

In the glow of the fire, Oma seemed healthy and relaxed. “Me, too, liebchen. It has always been my private refuge.”

Ancient beams ran across the ceiling. A fireplace with a raised hearth occupied a spot in a stone wall. The huge center island was still a blue that verged on farmhouse turquoise.

Although it was dark outside, I knew the big windows over the kitchen sink on the far end of the kitchen overlooked the mountains and the lake. The door to the left led outside to a small herb garden and Oma’s private patio.

But, sadly, the back staircase had been a victim of the remodeling. In the rear right corner, where the stairs should have been, a bookcase lined the wall.

Holmes fetched two wine glasses. I poured Pomeranian Pomegranate wine into the glasses.

“It’s research,” said Oma. “I wouldn’t want to offer our guests something I hadn’t tried first.”

I perched on the hearth, warming up by the fire. Candles flickered gently. Oma had switched on only the lights under the rustic pine cabinets. Their cozy glow bathed the room in golden light.

Holmes snagged another comfortable chair and relaxed, his long legs outstretched so that his shoes nearly touched mine.

Classical music that I couldn’t quite identify played very softly in the background. If I hadn’t known about Oma’s troubles, I would have thought it the most wonderfully warm and comforting moment. The way life should be. Good wine with good friends and beloved family. Twinkletoes kneaded in my lap while Trixie looked on. She fixated on my eyes, sending a very clear message—That should be me on your lap!

I reached out to stroke her fur. Apparently, that wasn’t enough. She curled up next to me, pushing against my thigh as tightly as she could.

Oma didn’t make eye contact with me when she said, “I heard the Ben checked out. Did he go home?”

Holmes snorted. “Sorry, Holly. You’re being too calm about this.” He faced our grandmothers. “Ben is staying with Kim at her dad’s cabin.”

A smile twitched on Oma’s lips. Why did I get the feeling that she and Rose would high-five if I wasn’t present?

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I assured them. “Ben is a very responsible person. I’m sure that’s why Kim’s father insisted he accompany her. She pulled a fast one on Ben earlier today and disappeared for hours. She claimed she was shopping, but all she carried was one bag with dog treats in it. A flimsy attempt to back up her shopping story if you ask me.”

“I hope you’re right about Ben’s character, because Kim is definitely a vamp,” said Holmes.

Rose frowned at Holmes. “Does that still mean what it used to mean?”

“Sure does. Ben is probably fighting her off as we speak.”

I had to come to Ben’s defense. I might have been let down by his totally unromantic proposal, but poor Ben was a good guy. “I hardly think he would have proposed to me if he planned to fall into Kim’s arms.”

Oma bit her lip.

Rose snickered. “Are you talking about that e-mail he sent you? Honey,” she shook her head sadly, “you marry him, and I swear I will be the one who jumps up and makes a fuss when the preacher asks if anyone objects to the marriage.”

“That’s because you don’t know him. He’s a nice man.”

Trixie took that inopportune moment to yawn and let out a complaining wail.

Fortunately, we all laughed, and the subject changed to getting Trixie a vet appointment. In the chaos, I’d forgotten all about that.

“So Oma,” I said, “what’s the deal with Peaches and Prissy Clodfelter? Why do they despise us so?”

Rose spewed wine. She sat up straight and dabbed at her blouse. “I hope this doesn’t stain. Liesel! You never told Holly?”

“Told me what?”

My grandmother sucked in a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling. “I suppose you’re old enough to know now. Peaches is what my generation called a gold digger.”

Rose chuckled. “She’s a devil in a skirt.”

“She wanted to marry your father.”

“My father?” I shuddered at the thought. “When was this?”

“About the time your parents decided to divorce. Peaches came around claiming your father had gotten her pregnant.”

“With Prissy?” My hair stood on end. “Please tell me Prissy isn’t my sister!”

“Have you seen the size of that girl?” Oma asked. “There’s never been a Miller that tall. No, Prissy’s father was someone else, but Peaches thought she could con your dad into marriage.”

“Wait a minute,” said Holmes. “I’m the tallest in my family. It happens.”

Rose leaned toward Holmes and me. “The reason Peaches hates Liesel so much is because Liesel had the baby tested.”

“Oma!” I exclaimed.

“I am many things. But I am not a fool. I was not going to allow that woman to destroy your father. If the baby had been his, that would have been one thing. But I knew it wasn’t.”

My head reeled from the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“It is no longer important,” said Oma. “Old stuff that no one cares about anymore.”

“Peaches still cares about it,” I said.

“If she resents me, then it is her problem. She is the one who lied. I did what I had to do and have no regrets about it.”

An hour later, Holmes walked Rose home, and Oma trundled off to bed with Gingersnap. I pretended to go up to my quarters, but I simply left my purse on the coffee table and promptly returned to the second floor. I located the housekeeping closet, where we kept the cleaning supplies and linens, and rummaged around. Trixie waited outside the door. I found two blankets and a pillow. That should do the trick.

I tiptoed down the hallway to the balcony overlooking the reception area. Murmuring voices stopped, and I could hear footsteps on the stairs. Probably Oma! There wasn’t any place to hide.

I hurried back to the housekeeping closet and called Trixie. The silly girl wouldn’t come. Would—not—come. Evidently, she had a fear of small spaces—the elevator, the bathroom, and now the housekeeping closet, which was the size of a walk-in closet. Glancing toward the staircase, I lunged at her, scooped her into my arms, smuggled the writhing dog inside, and closed the door.

She fought me with all her strength. “Quit that! No one is going to hurt you.” Thank goodness she didn’t bark.

I counted one Mississippi, two Mississippi until I thought Oma must have passed the point where she could see me.

The hallway lay still when we emerged. I set Trixie down and grabbed my blankets and pillow. Trixie didn’t quite understand the stealthy nature of our operation, but I did my best to walk very quietly.

My timing couldn’t have been better. I peeked around the corner just in time to see Gingersnap’s tail vanish inside Oma’s apartment. The lock clicked behind them.

Perfect! I tiptoed to her door, spread out one of the blankets on the floor, and propped the pillow up against her door. If I fell asleep, I would surely wake if it opened for any reason.

Twinkletoes showed up and demonstrated how she’d acquired her name. She walked along the banister of the balcony as unconcerned as if she were walking on the floor. I knew cats were supposed to right themselves when they fell, but it scared the wits out of me anyway. Moving slowly, so I wouldn’t alarm her, I approached her and gently gathered her into my arms, away from that dangerous railing.

Beneath us, Casey worked at the desk. I could only assume that he hadn’t heard us yet. I hoped to keep it that way.

I snuggled, as much as anyone could, on the hard floor. I had covered it with one blanket and thrown the other one over me. My trousers cut into my waist, and I wished I had taken the time to brush my teeth. I didn’t dare leave, though. I unfastened the top of my trousers and felt more comfortable. Trixie must have forgiven me for wresting her into the tiny housekeeping room because she curled up next to me, her body pressing against the blanket by my hips.

Twinkletoes roamed the balcony. Sconces lighted the area where I lay. Through the ornate wrought iron of the railing, I could see the lights on the antler chandelier that hung in the reception area below.

Easing back against the pillow, I closed my eyes but couldn’t help thinking about Ben and Holmes. Just between me and myself, I knew deep in my heart that if I thought I had even a remote chance with Holmes, I would drop Ben. The thought crushed me. I’d been so sure Ben was the one for me. In spite of Oma and Rose’s assessment, I knew he was a warm and caring man. Okay, given his two terrible proposals, I could scratch warm. The second one hadn’t really been a proposal of marriage at all. He was smart, even if Kim had managed to elude him today. He was genuine—that was important. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. He was serious. So he didn’t make me laugh much. What was more important? Laughter or taking life seriously?

I squiggled down into a more comfortable position, landing on my cell phone. Probably not a good thing.

The phone at the reception desk rang softly beneath me.

I yanked my phone out from under the blanket and realized with horror that I’d managed to dial the inn when I sat on it. “Uh, sorry, Casey,” I whispered. “My mistake.”

I set the phone on the floor, on the other side of Trixie, where I couldn’t accidentally roll over on it in my sleep.

I settled down and closed my eyes. The truth was that my love for Holmes was just a remnant of a schoolgirl infatuation. Honestly! What had happened to me? I came to the land of dogs and cats, where people spoke of ghosts like they were real, and I’d lost all good sense. Holmes wasn’t available, and even if I woke up tomorrow morning and discovered that he had broken off his engagement, he probably wasn’t the person I had manufactured in my mind as the perfect guy. So there. I had to get back to reality. Ben might be unimaginative, but he was a solid person.

• • •

I must have drifted off. The next thing I knew, Trixie barked. Like a periscope, Twinkletoes aimed her attention at the hallway. Trixie barked again. Scrambling to her feet, she kicked my phone over the balcony and took off running.

“Shh!” I loped after her. “Trixie?” I hissed.

Where could she have gone?

The door to Heel opened, and Mr. Luciano stepped out. “What’s going on?”

I had to stop, however briefly. “My apologies for the noise, Mr. Luciano.”

He tightened the belt of his black satin bathrobe. “Do you need help? Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Thank you.” I said softly, hoping we weren’t waking everyone. “Everything is fine.”

Almost, anyway. I took off running as quietly as possible along the hallway. At the main stairs, I listened. No barking. No pitter-patter of little paws. I ran up the stairs to my floor. No sign of Trixie.

I trotted downstairs to the main floor and looked in Oma’s private kitchen. No dog. Breathing hard, half from fear and half from rushing around, I hurried through the library, the hallways of the cat wing, the sitting area, and back upstairs to my fancy quarters. My last hope was that she had returned to the balcony where we had slept. I stumbled down the stairs and back through the hallway on the second floor. No sign of Mr. Luciano this time. I held my breath as I rounded the corner. The blankets and pillow remained undisturbed.

Gingersnap barked inside Oma’s apartment.

“Shh, Gingersnap! Everything is okay.”

I kept saying that to pacify everyone else. Meanwhile, my nerves had stretched to their limit. “Shh.”

It didn’t help. Gingersnap barked like she’d seen a squirrel run through Oma’s apartment.

As quietly and reassuringly as I could, I said, “It’s all right, Gingersnap. No barking.”

She still barked. Woof, woof, woof. Woof, woof, woof. Oma must be awake by now. I dashed down the stairs.

“Casey, could I have a key to Oma’s apartment?”

His lips pulled tight, grim. “I’m not supposed to give them to anybody.” But he handed me a ring of keys. “It’s the pink one.”

I staggered back up the stairs, anxious to halt Gingersnap’s incessant barking. Woof, woof, woof.

I slid the key into the lock, twisted it, and opened the door to a dark apartment. Gingersnap butted her head into my thighs and refused to budge. At least she wasn’t barking anymore. I stroked her head and gave her a big hug.

How could Oma have possibly slept through that? I managed to evade Gingersnap, who continued to demand my attention, and tiptoed over to Oma’s bedroom. Could she have slept so deeply that she missed the commotion?

Gingersnap burst past me and leaped onto the bed. She wouldn’t sleep through that!

“Oma, I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t respond.

“Oma?”

Nothing.

My heart sped up again, beating like it would fly out of my chest. I flicked on the light.