Murder, She Barked

Forty-six

Oma and I invited everyone to dinner that night, including inn employees, interested guests, and even Aunt Birdie. Zelda, Shelley, and I shoved the tables in the dining area into a big circle and arranged side tables for a buffet. Thomas catered it.

Only Aunt Birdie, Dave, and Ellie declined. Not surprising under the circumstances. Mr. Luciano showed up, with Gina on a leash, looking healthy and happy. Holmes and Rose arrived together. Even Ben and Kim came to celebrate. Our guests mingled before dinner with Appletinis and ginger pear Getaway cocktails in their hands.

To my surprise, Dave showed up after all. I hurried over to him. “I thought you weren’t coming. Let me get you a drink.”

“Thanks, I can’t. I have a lot of work to do tonight.” He studied the floor for a moment. “You were right about Prissy.”

“Oh, Dave. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t want to believe you. I thought Prissy had a thing for me but it was just an act to get on my good side. She took the job as police dispatcher to help Brewster.” Dave snorted. “He had a pattern of hiring people to do his dirty work for him. Prissy kept him apprised about the situation in Snowball and fed him information about where the police would be patrolling. We’ve arrested a couple of young guys over on Snowball who stole the goods from homes and hotel rooms for Brewster. Apparently, he feared they would turn on him and raid his house, so he hid everything in socks in a laundry basket where he thought no one would look. Periodically, he sent it off to be smelted.”

“Do you think Jerry was onto him?”

“I doubt we’ll ever know for sure. Brewster knew the socks were disappearing. Apparently, he saw Murphy dig up a couple of socks in Jerry’s back yard. Brewster jumped to the erroneous conclusion that Jerry had buried them there to hide them. After Jerry ate breakfast with us, he returned home where Brewster confronted him. According to Brewster, they got into a fight upstairs, and Jerry managed to snatch Brewster’s toupee. Brewster slammed a golf club on Jerry’s head, causing Jerry to fall, which gave Brewster the opportunity to slide the choke collar and leash on him. Jerry tried to get away but fell again when he was running down the stairs, and the collar choked him.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “Hair of the Dog seems like a thriving business. Why would he throw all that away and get involved with a ring of thieves?”

Dave met my eyes. “Greed. Plain old greed.”

“What a twisted mind! It was okay for him to steal from other people, but he killed Jerry for stealing those same ill-gotten gains from him. And the saddest thing of all is that it wasn’t Jerry who took them—it was Murphy, Brewster’s own dog, who was taking his treasures.”

Ben shook his head. “I can’t believe that Kim went to a scumbag like Brewster for money. She’s lucky he didn’t try to kill her, too.”

“Hey,” said Dave, “even I thought he was a nice guy! I went to Hair of the Dog all the time.”

I whispered to Ben, “What’s going to happen to Kim?”

“Grand larceny carries a penalty up to twenty years.” Ben sighed. “All I can say is she’ll have the best legal representation possible. It’s her first offense, but it’s a whopper, even if she does claim she meant to return the car eventually.”

“Can’t Mortie drop the charges?” I asked.

Ben’s lips puckered. “If the state brings charges, only the prosecutor can drop them or reduce them. Who knows? Maybe Kim will get lucky this time.”

I looked at Dave for his opinion. He held up his hands. “That’s in another jurisdiction, up where the car was stolen. I have to get going.” He leaned forward to hug me. “Thanks for your help. I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.”

“You were just doing your job.”

Dave waved to us, and left at a fast clip.

“Did you know Kim had stolen the car?” I asked Ben.

“Nope. Mortie didn’t know a thing about it, either. Remember how Kim slipped away from me that first day? She was off having a little meeting with Brewster. He threatened to expose her as the car thief if she didn’t do what he asked. Kim didn’t tell me until yesterday morning that she had taken her father’s car and handed it over to Brewster.”

Kim ambled over with an Appletini in her hand.

“Did Brewster offer to expunge your debt if you brought him Trixie?” I asked.

“Close. He wanted me to kill her. I didn’t know why, of course.”

I stared at her in horror.

“Oh, don’t look like that. I could never hurt a dog. I love dogs.” She reached down to pet Trixie. “I planned to drive her out in the country, far enough away that she wouldn’t find her way back.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Hey! I was under a lot of pressure,” she whined. “Besides, Trixie got away from me, and everything turned out fine.”

“Holly!” called Zelda.

Good timing. I was ready to let Kim have it.

I joined Zelda, who stood in the center of a cluster of people.

“I had to hand Philip’s phone over to Dave,” said Zelda, “but in anticipation of that, your grandmother and I taped this from Philip’s voice mail.” She hit a button on a small device.

It wasn’t very loud. We all craned our necks to listen as Brewster instructed Tiny on the details of the hit-and-run murder plot.

“On Friday night, you’ll be sitting in the SUV at the end of the street with the lights off. Wear gloves so you don’t leave fingerprints anywhere. Got it? Jerry arrives at his mother’s house for dinner at 7:15 sharp. They’re calling for rain, so that will give you extra cover. You hit Jerry. Take him out. Then drive to the highway and hide the car in the trees. Go back around midnight or one in the morning when there’s no traffic and nobody there to see you, and roll it over the cliff. You understand? Don’t mess up.”

“When do I get my money?” Tiny spoke softly. I felt as though I could hear the doubt in his voice.

It clicked off. The recording ran for less than a minute, very short, but certainly enough to land Brewster in the slammer for a long time.

Mr. Luciano scowled. “Why would this be on Philip’s phone?”

“We wondered about that,” said Zelda. “It’s on Philip’s voice mail. We think it was an accidental pocket dial. You know—when the buttons on your phone are accidentally pushed, and you can hear a conversation going on but they don’t hear you. Except Philip’s voice mail answered the call and taped it.”

Philip was as devious as Kim. He’d heard that conversation and then made arrangements for Jerry to be called away about a phony emergency. Ironically, Philip had saved Jerry’s life that night. He knew a murder was going down, and instead of reporting it, he’d used that knowledge to further his own desires by substituting Oma as the victim, instead of Jerry.

• • •

When everyone had helped themselves to the buffet, Oma dimmed the lights slightly, and we sat down to eat. Through the huge window wall, a harvest moon shone in the sky like a beacon. A golden path sparkled across the lake reflecting the light. Inside, a fire crackled in the rustic stone fireplace. Candles and bouquets of sunflowers and chrysanthemums adorned the tables. Even though we weren’t all relatives, the horrible events of recent days bonded us like one big family.

Oma clinked a fork against her glass. “Thank you all for coming. It has been a terrible time for us in Wagtail. We mourn the loss of two of our beloved residents, Sven and Jerry. We are grateful, though, that the perpetrators have been apprehended, and we thank everyone who played a role in that effort, especially Zelda, Trixie, and my wonderful granddaughter, Holly. Enjoy your dinner!”

I caught a glimpse of Kim. She turned away quickly, no doubt ashamed of herself for her involvement.

We dined on savory spinach and bison lasagna and blackberry-wine venison stew that I could have eaten by the vat. Miniature versions without onions or wine were available for the dogs. Assorted salads, grilled zucchini with fresh herbs, and spicy sweet potatoes rounded out the meal.

Over after-dinner coffee and chocolate-glazed profiteroles filled with rich vanilla ice cream, Ben said, “I’m heading home tomorrow, and I’d like to take my car. Can you be downstairs prepared to go by nine?”

I wasn’t quite ready to leave Wagtail. But, like a vacation, my visit had to come to an end. I had to get back to my job. They wouldn’t hold it for me forever. “Guess I’d better head back with Ben,” I said to Oma. “Assuming he’ll allow Trixie and Twinkletoes in his car.”

Oma couldn’t hide her disappointment. “If this is what you want.”

Around the room the chatter stopped in a wave, and everyone listened.

Even Trixie watched me with a glum, apprehensive look.

“We’ll be back to take care of the inn when you go on your cruise.”

Oma brightened a little bit. “You could stay a few more days if you drove my car home. I don’t use it very often since we have the golf carts.”

“That would be so complicated. I’d have to come back to return it.”

“Exactly.” Oma smiled. “Then I would know that I will see you again soon.”

I felt terrible. Would another year, or five or ten, pass before I returned for a longer stay? I gazed around at their faces. Zelda, Shelley, and Casey, appeared disappointed. Even Gingersnap, who walked over and buried her face between my knees. They had been so good to me. What was my big rush to return to Washington? To a relationship that had ended. To a job where I would turn into a workaholic again. If I was going to work all the time anyway, shouldn’t it be fun? In a place I loved?

“Oma, if you were to semiretire, wouldn’t you need a manager of sorts?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a partner.”

A partner? That thought had never crossed my mind. “Really, Oma?”

“This has been my dream for a very long time.”

It was a huge decision–a major life change for me. But there was no place in the world I would rather be. Running the inn and meeting new people was fun, and different every day. I stood up and hugged Oma. “I accept!”

A cheer went up. Gingersnap, Trixie, and even Mr. Luciano’s Gina barked and danced in crazy circles. Twinkletoes leaped to the safety of a tabletop, but she held out one paw, and Zelda seized the moment to high-five with her.

Only Ben looked on in shock.

Oma hugged me again. “Welcome home, liebling.”

Wagtail might not be as sophisticated as Washington. There weren’t any high-rises or big chain stores, and it was miles and miles away from everything. But the Sugar Maple Inn was where I wanted to be, with Trixie, Twinkletoes, Gingersnap, and especially Oma.

Author’s Note

One of my dogs suffered from severe food allergies that did not allow him to eat commercial dog food. Consequently, I learned to cook for my dogs and have done so for many years. Consult your veterinarian if you want to switch your dog over to home-cooked food. It’s not as difficult as one might think. Keep in mind that, like children, dogs need a balanced diet, not just a hamburger. Any changes to your dog’s diet should be made gradually so your dog’s stomach can adjust.

Chocolate, alcohol, caffeine, fatty foods, grapes, raisins, macadamia nuts, onions and garlic, salt, xylitol, and unbaked dough can be toxic to dogs. For more information about foods your dog should not eat, consult the Pet Poison Helpline, atpetpoisonhelpline.com/pet-owners/.

Recipes

Sugar Maple Inn Caramel Banana Oatmeal

For people. Makes 2–3 portions or 4 small portions.

Caramel

¹/₄ cup heavy cream

¹/₄ cup sugar

¹/₄ cup dark brown sugar

2 tablespoons butter

dash of salt

Place ingredients in a microwave-safe bowl. (I use a Pyrex 2-cup measure.) Microwave in short bursts from 20–50 seconds, stirring each time until it bubbles up and is hot. Set aside to thicken and cool slightly.

Cook oatmeal in your preferred method. Or fill each individual bowl with oatmeal and add enough water to barely cover it. Microwave for 1 to 2 minutes.

Slice one banana for each serving, and cover the cooked oatmeal with the slices. Drizzle with caramel.

Oma’s Hungarian Goulash

For people. Contains onions—do not feed to dogs.

¹/₄ cup vegetable oil

2 pounds cubed stew beef or pork (do not use lean meat, like a tenderloin)

2 cups chopped onions

2 teaspoons marjoram

2 cloves garlic

1 tablespoon sweet paprika

1 cup water or stock

4 carrots, peeled and sliced

4 medium potatoes, cubed (optional)

Heat the oil in a deep pot. Brown the meat and remove. Sauté the onions in the same pot. Add the marjoram, garlic, paprika, water, carrots, and meat. Cover and simmer 1 ¹/₂ hours over low heat until the meat is tender.

If you wish to add potatoes, you may cook them in the goulash for the last ¹/₂ hour. Or, so they won’t soak up the sauce, you can cook them in another pot and add them to the goulash for the last five minutes.

Sugar Maple Inn Cherry Strudel

For people.

10 sheets 12 x 17 filo dough

2 cups pitted and halved fresh cherries

¹/₄ cup sugar (I use sweet black cherries, you may need more if you use sour cherries)

¹/₃ cup graham cracker crumbs

¹/₂ of a lemon

1 teaspoon vanilla or brandy (optional)

6 tablespoons butter

powdered sugar

Mix the cherries, sugar, lemon and vanilla or brandy in a bowl. (If you’re very lazy, you can skip this step. Watch for the ** later.)

Melt the butter and brush a little bit on a baking sheet. Preheat the oven to 350.

On an ungreased baking sheet, spread the first sheet of filo dough. Brush with butter. Lay another sheet of the filo dough on top of it and brush with butter. Repeat until you have ten sheets of filo dough.

Spoon the cherries onto the filo about an inch from the edge in a line along the long side of the filo. Sprinkle with the graham cracker crumbs. (** If you’re not using vanilla or brandy, you can just lay the cherries in a line, sprinkle with sugar, sprinkle with graham cracker crumbs and squeeze the lemon over top of it all.)

Roll the cherry end slowly, brushing the top of the filo as you go. Lay it seam side down on the buttered baking sheet and add one more buttery swipe to the top. Cut small diagonal vents along the top. Bake 25 minutes, brush with butter and return to oven for another 20 minutes. Sift powdered sugar over the top to dress it up—and serve. It’s good warm and cold!

Sweet Dog Barkery Cinnamon-Pumpkin Muffins

For people. Makes 12 muffins.

1 ¹/₂ cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

¹/₂ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

2 eggs

¹/₂ cup vegetable oil

¹/₂ cup dark brown sugar, packed

¹/₄ cup regular sugar

³/₄ cup canned pumpkin

Swirl

¹/₂ cup dark brown sugar, packed

2 teaspoons cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350. Fill cupcake pan with liners.

Mix the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and 1 teaspoon cinnamon in a bowl and stir with a fork to mix. Set aside.

Whisk the eggs, and add the vegetable oil, ¹/₂ cup dark brown sugar, the regular sugar, and the pumpkin. Blend well. Dump in the flour mixture and mix with a spoon until just blended. Do not overmix.

In a separate bowl, combine the ¹/₂ cup dark brown sugar with the 2 teaspoons of cinnamon.

Fill the liners almost full. Add 1 teaspoon or so of the cinnamon-sugar swirl mixture to the top of each muffin. Using a cake tester or bamboo skewer, sweep through the muffin to mix the cinnamon into them.

Bake at 350 for 15 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.

Peanut Butter Cookies

For dogs.

³/₄ cup flour

¹/₂ teaspoon baking powder

pinch salt

1 egg

¹/₄ cup olive oil

1 tablespoon milk

²/₃ cup peanut butter

Preheat oven to 350. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Mix flour and baking powder and set aside. In a mixer, beat the egg with olive oil and milk. Add peanut butter and mix well. Add flour and mix. The dough will be thick. Roll into ¹/₂ inch diameter balls for large dogs, and ¹/₄ inch balls for small dogs. If you prefer crisper cookies, flatten them with the heel of your hand or a fork. Bake 15 minutes.

The Blue Boar Pumpkin Dessert

For dogs.

3 tablespoons canned pumpkin (not pumpkin-pie mix)

3 tablespoons no-fat or low-fat Greek yogurt

Swirl together so there are pretty pumpkin and white swirls. Serve.

Sugar Maple Inn Seafarer Supper

For dogs. Makes 2–3 Gingersnap-size servings or 5–6 Trixie-size servings.

1 average wild-caught cod filet (about ¹/₂—³/₄ pound raw)

3 cups cooked barley

2 cups steamed green beans

Preheat oven to 400. Place the cod in a glass baking dish, and cook 20–25 minutes or until the fish flakes apart easily. Flake the fish and combine with barley and green beans. Serve slightly warm.

Sugar Maple Inn Travel-Tummy Dinner

For dogs. Makes 2–3 Gingersnap-size servings and 5–6 Trixie-size servings.

1–2 tablespoons olive oil

1 pound 4 percent fat ground beef

3–4 cups cooked white rice

1 cup cooked spinach, chopped

Heat the olive oil in a 3 to 4-inch-deep pan. Make rough burger shapes out of the ground beef, and cook on each side 3–4 minutes until the middle is red but not raw. Use a metal spatula to roughly chop the meat into pieces. (For picky eaters, chop the meat into tiny bits.) Add the rice and spinach. Mix thoroughly. Serve slightly warm.

Turn the page for a preview of Krista Davis’s next Domestic Diva Mystery . . .

The Diva Wraps It Up

Coming soon from Berkley Prime Crime!

Dear Natasha,

My son-in-law is quite a cook. I would love to give him a set of professional quality knives for Christmas. Can you recommend some good brands?

Hungry Mom in Turkey, Arkansas

Dear Hungry Mom,

Never give knives as a gift. The gift of a knife is believed to sever the friendship. In this case, it might even sever the relationship between your daughter and her husband! Unless, of course, that’s what you had in mind, in which case any old knives would do.

Natasha

Horace Scroggins poured hot chocolate into a mug. “It’s my own special blend.” He glanced out the door of his office as though he thought employees might be eavesdropping to hear his secret ingredients. “I add vanilla! Learned it from my true love.”

He was too cute. I accepted the mug and made a fuss like I thought vanilla in hot chocolate was very special indeed.

Horace had always reminded me of Santa Claus. A petite man with rosy round cheeks and a belly that jiggled, 364 days of the year he wore a bow tie and suspenders, and at Christmastime they were inevitably red. On the day of the Scottish Christmas Walk, he donned a kilt and proudly paraded through the streets of Old Town.

I had never heard Horace utter a bad word about anyone. In his early sixties, he had a head of fluffy hair as white as snow. He always smiled, amazing in itself since he was married to Edith Scroggins, the most odious and unfriendly woman imaginable.

As an event planner, I didn’t typically handle small company gatherings, but for the past few years, Horace had talked me into arranging his real estate company’s Christmas party. It kicked off the Christmas season in Old Town. Horace had bought a magnificent historical town house for his real estate business many long years ago. His staff delighted in decorating it with a towering balsam fir in the two-story foyer. Scottish tartan ribbons curled through wreaths in the most tasteful and elegant manner, and groups of ruby red poinsettias graced antique tables and mantels. The muted colonial green walls provided a perfect backdrop for the tartan ribbons and bold reds.

It was Horace’s habit to invite people to whom his company had sold homes in Old Town, Alexandria, which included half my neighbors.

He sat down in his desk chair. The weathered leather gave, soft and cushy under his weight. He drank from his mug like he was thirsty and smiled at me. “Always settles my stomach. There’s nothing like hot chocolate to cure whatever ails you.” He held an orange box out to me. “Peanut brittle?”

“No, thanks. Queasy tummy?” I asked. “The party is going very well. You needn’t worry.”

“You did a lovely job, Sophie. Just getting older, I guess. Can’t eat everything I used to.”

Luis Simon, a prominent psychiatrist who had bought a home on my street through Scroggins Realty, popped his head in the doorway. With prominent cheekbones and sultry bedroom eyes, Luis was worthy of posing for the cover of a romance novel. He carried a cup of English Bishop, a flaming holiday punch loaded with rum and oranges studded with cloves. “Horace! Where’s the Scottish dirk you were telling me about?”

“Dirk?” I asked.

Horace jumped up. He steadied himself briefly, his fingertips on his desk. “A traditional Scottish dagger, my dear.” He turned to the bookcase behind his desk, took a tiny key from a book, and unlocked a desk drawer. He removed the knife gingerly and proudly presented it in his open palms as though it were a prized possession.

“An antique. The sheath bears sterling silver thistles.”

Probably hand carved, the sheath appeared to be ebony. I didn’t have to be an antiques expert to see that it bore the hallmarks of age.

He grasped the handle. A silver crown on the top held a large amber stone. Horace withdrew the handle to reveal a gleaming knife. “I like to imagine that it was really used, and not just worn for ceremonies.”

Luis whistled his admiration and took the knife from Horace. “It’s sharp! And heavier than I expected. You could do some damage with this thing.” He danced backward and extended his arm as though it were a sword.

“They made things to last in the old days, didn’t they?” Horace beamed. “Let’s find Babineaux. He wanted to see it, too.” He locked the drawer again and tucked the key back into the book.

They scuttled out of Horace’s office with the enthusiasm of little boys who had found a shiny object. I followed them out, and moseyed toward the buffet to check on the food. Guests couldn’t seem to get enough of the oysters on the half shell and rolls of salmon on pumpernickel with pink peppercorns and crème fraîche. The baked Brie with toasted pecans and fig glaze was always a hit. I couldn’t resist a taste of the melting cheese with a hint of salt and a smidge of sweet fig. Heavenly! And I had to try the seared foie gras with caramelized pears. The caterer had outdone himself.

Everyone appeared to be having fun. I checked my watch, grabbed my pashmina, and slipped out the front door in search of the carolers I’d hired, shivering at the chill. Mother Nature had cooperated beautifully, sending us sparkling snowflakes. Not enough to have to shovel, but the right amount for perfect ambiance. I had worn a red velvet dress in the spirit of the season, but it lacked sleeves. No matter. The pashmina would cover my bare arms. Besides, I didn’t plan to be outdoors long.

The carolers hurried along the street toward me. Dressed in traditional Victorian garb, with white faux fur trim on their clothes, they fit in perfectly on Old Town’s colonial streets.

They gathered in front of the door, and at the signal, I opened the door and stepped aside on the sidewalk to watch them.

They began with “Deck the Halls.” The doors to the upstairs balcony opened, and Horace led a small group out to watch. From below I couldn’t help but notice the blanched color of his normally rosy face. He still smiled, though, and listened to the voices blend.

But then I saw him grasp the railing with both hands and appear to sway. None of the people behind him seemed to realize that he wasn’t well.

He leaned forward, his upper body draped against the railing, and they finally clustered around him in concern. With an enormous snap, the railing split, and Horace plunged headlong onto the sidewalk.