Murder, She Barked

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.

Where had Twinkletoes come from? I followed them but they had vanished. I felt like an idiot standing in front of the fireplace and looking around. They had to be in the suite somewhere.

In less than two minutes, they raced through the suite again, Twinkletoes in the lead. This time I was ready. I watched to see where they were going. But Twinkletoes jumped up on the hearth.

Trixie focused on her, ready to play.

Thinking I had missed my opportunity, I flicked on the fire and settled in one of the cozy chairs with my feet up. I strained to hear any indication of activity across the hall. Nothing.

Twinkletoes sprang off the hearth. Dancing sideways like a Halloween cat, with her back arched, she whapped Trixie on the nose with one of her paws and took off again.

Trixie’s claws rustled against the wood floor as she scrambled after Twinkletoes. I jumped up and chased them, just in time to see Trixie disappear through the bookcase in the dining room.

What on earth? I knelt down and peered at the bottom shelf. They had gone through a round pet-sized hole in the back. I stood and stepped back. In the dark cherry wood, it was almost invisible. No wonder I had missed it.

I grasped a shelf. A little pressure caused that section of the bookcase to swing open to a stair landing. A light switch to my right turned on overhead lights. I trotted down the stairs, laughing at how stupid I’d been. These had to be the old back stairs to the kitchen. Indeed, a landing on the second floor provided an exit, undoubtedly hidden on the other side. I continued down another flight of stairs. At the bottom, I pushed against a wood panel with a pet door in it and found myself in Oma’s private kitchen with Twinkletoes and Trixie.

Oma must have built a similar hidden staircase between her suite and her office when she put on the new addition. That would explain how she managed to leave without being seen by Casey or me.

That tricky woman! I couldn’t stop smiling. My dear old Oma was one of a kind. I should have known she would use the renovation as an excuse to build hidden passages. She loved things like that.

I carried Twinkletoes up to my suite. Trixie raced ahead of us. I located some heavy books and blocked off their escape hatch. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about Trixie being stolen from the kitchen.

I settled back in the big cushy chair with my feet on the ottoman, waiting for something to happen. Trixie jumped up on the chair, and twisted and turned until she wedged herself in beside me. I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

• • •

Trixie’s yelp woke me at one in the morning. She sat up at attention, listening. One more yelp and she ran to the door of the suite and barked like crazy.