by Krista Davis
“Absolutely.” I was getting hungry watching Dave chow down on his turkey sandwich. I hustled to the magic refrigerator in search of turkey for my dinner.
My parents had sent me to Wagtail every summer to stay with Oma. They had been sun-filled days of fun and work at the inn with my cousin and Holmes, the grandson of Oma’s best friend. Most of the day’s leftovers from the inn’s dining services were delivered to less-fortunate people who lived on Wagtail Mountain, but quite a bit also landed in the fridge, which never seemed to be empty, earning it the moniker the magic refrigerator.
“Has Gingersnap eaten yet?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Oma replied.
I filled bowls for Trixie and Gingersnap with something called Gobble Gobble Goodness. The inn offered special homemade meals for our dog and cat guests. We also kept an array of commercial dog and cat foods because some people preferred to have their furry ones eat the foods they were used to. Gobble Gobble Goodness appeared to be chunks of turkey breast, onion-free gravy, broccoli, quinoa, and linguine, sprinkled with a few rosy cooked cranberries. I located a similar version for cats called Turkey Mousse and spooned it into a small bowl for Twinkletoes.
Dave looked over at the dogs. “Too bad Trixie’s nose can’t lead us to the missing dogs.”
“Shh!” Oma hissed. “I wish to find the dogs but not next to a murdered person. We have had enough of those incidents. Holly, when you send out the e-mail blast, perhaps you can mention that everyone should be on the alert for the barking of dogs where there were none before.”
I glanced at Dave for his approval and bit into my sandwich.
He nodded. “If it’s really someone stealing dogs, there’s a good chance he’s not through yet and the missing dogs are still in the area somewhere. We should all be on the alert for whimpering and barking. When things calm down in town tonight, I might take a drive down the mountain to see if I hear anything on the outskirts.”
While we ate, I described the incident with the gray-eyed man and how LaRue came to the rescue. Oma was horrified.
“What do you know about LaRue?” I asked.
Oma’s eyes met Dave’s.
“Not much,” he said. “He’s retired and chooses to live quietly among the blessings of nature.”
“It looked like he might have sewn his own clothes. Have you been to his house?”
Dave grinned. “It’s kind of neat. He builds with things he finds. The stuff the rest of us throw away. He constructed a whole wall in his entranceway out of glass that he found. It’s like a mosaic that lights up from the inside.”
“So he’s creative and pretty smart,” I said. “Does he live off the grid?”
“Ja,” Oma muttered. “He is very intelligent.”
Why did I feel like they were keeping something from me? In any event, they seemed to approve of him and didn’t warn me to keep my distance.
I noted that Dave changed the subject quickly. “If you see the gray-eyed man tomorrow, give me a call. I’d like to know who he is and keep an eye on him.”
I was more than happy to do that!
Six
After dinner, I closed the hidden dog door in my dining room so Trixie wouldn’t wander through the inn. I spent the next few hours in my quarters working on e-mail blasts and social media. Still, I glanced around for Trixie every few minutes, even though I knew she hadn’t left my apartment.
At midnight, I slid a harness on Trixie and attached a leash. She gave me a curious look. It had been a long time since she had to walk on a leash. We headed downstairs to the empty lobby. Our night manager, Casey, ought to be around somewhere.
I pushed the front door open and we stepped outside. The bars and a few restaurants stayed open for night owls, so the sidewalks weren’t deserted despite the late hour. We strode along for a bit. The stores were locked, but lights glowed in their elaborate window displays. Several of them featured everything Pippin, from keychains to dog beds. Jim must be making a mint on merchandising Pippin’s name and image.
We turned to the left and walked along the quiet street. The night air was blissfully warm. It was a lovely night for a stroll. Every so often we stopped and listened. Trixie continually lifted her nose to the air, picking up scents that I couldn’t smell. We heard no barking or whining.
But even in the dark, there was no mistaking Rae Rae as she whipped by us in a golf cart on a cross street. Rae Rae’s jewelry flashed under the light of the moon as if it glowed in the dark. Interestingly, she was headed away from the inn.
Trixie stopped to investigate a boxwood. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sounds of the night. Crickets were busy rubbing their legs together to make their chirping sound. The engine of a boat puttered on the lake. Probably someone fishing. In the distance, to my west, I could hear a lone dog barking.
“Let’s stroll over that way, Trixie.”
She readily changed direction. In a few blocks, we were back in the heart of Wagtail.
As we crossed the green, I spied Jim striding somewhere fast. But Pippin was nowhere to be seen. I followed him briefly to be sure. I couldn’t believe he would have left Pippin alone. But on second thought, they had had a long plane trip and poor Pippin was always the center of attention. He deserved some rest.
The Wagtail Springs Hotel was the only other inn-type facility in Wagtail. Some visitors to town stayed in a bed-and-breakfast or rented a house for their time here. Across the way, just on the outskirts of Wagtail, there was a popular subdivision with houses that looked like hobbits lived in them. But owners were not allowed to rent them. So it stood to reason that if there were someone nabbing dogs, he would have to hide them in a rental house or outside of Wagtail. And if it were the latter, he would need a means of transporting them out of Wagtail without anyone noticing. Unless he was a resident, he couldn’t bring in a car or truck. But some of the rentals came with a golf cart for the tenant’s use, I mused. He could probably sedate a dog and transport it to a vehicle in the parking lot outside of Wagtail without anyone noticing.
A couple of dogs barked at us as we wandered through residential neighborhoods. But I knew those dogs. They were where they belonged.
We walked back to the inn, where I collected a key for a golf cart. Trixie and I headed outside, and she hopped on the golf cart like a pro.
We drove along the same road Rae Rae had taken. I didn’t see another golf cart parked anywhere, but she could have turned off on one of the smaller side streets. We drew up to the huge parking lot outside of town where visitors left their vehicles. I recognized the lot’s night manager helping some people with a flat tire.
Grateful for the quiet engine of the electric golf cart, I paused and listened.
“Trixie, speak!” I said.
She looked at me and breathed a quiet woof in an indoor kind of voice like she couldn’t believe I wanted her to be noisy.
I reached into my pocket for a treat. “Real speak!”
Her eyes locked onto the liver treat in my fingers, and she barked once, loud and clear.
I fed her the treat and listened for any whimpering or barking. We drove on, and Trixie barked four more times for a treat.
Before we left, I stopped to speak with the night manager. “Could you keep an ear open for any barking inside of vehicles?”
“Dave’s a step ahead of you. He told all of us what’s going on. The whole parking lot crew is on the lookout.”
“Great. Thanks a lot.”
I drove slowly, winding through streets on the way back to the inn. As I parked the golf cart at the inn, I heard voices and could make out two figures running and giggling in the dark. They passed under a light, and I saw then that it was Camille and Finch.
I didn’t see Pippin or his group again that night, which I hoped meant things had gone well for them.
* * *
Trixie and Twinkleto
es bounded out of bed in the morning, eager to get going. I wished I had their energy at that hour. I showered, pulled my long hair back into a ponytail, and dressed in a navy skort, sleeveless white shirt, and comfortable sneakers for the walk up the mountain.
As we ventured downstairs, the aroma of coffee and bacon wafted up to us from the inn’s kitchen.
I glanced around the main lobby, which had begun to get busy. The phone buzzed at the front desk. I strode over and answered, “Sugar Maple Inn.”
“Holly?”
I recognized Augie’s voice. “Hi!” I said. “Please don’t tell me there’s a problem with the food for Pippin’s Treasure Hunt.”
“Not the food exactly. I was wondering if we could borrow Shadow today. Diane Blushner has gone missing, and two of my employees are joining a search team to look for her.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What do you mean missing? I saw her yesterday at Shutter Dogs.”
I could hear Augie inhale sharply. “Her dogs were heard barking last night. And today, no one can find her. She’s not home, and no one has seen her. It appears that she didn’t feed the dogs this morning.”
“There’s no way she would neglect her dogs. She lives for them!”
“Stella is gone, too.”
If it hadn’t been for the other two missing dogs, I would have assumed Diane had taken Stella somewhere with her. It was as unusual to see Diane without Stella as it was to see me without Trixie. “Does Dave think there’s a connection to the other missing dogs?”
“That’s what worries us. We’re hoping for the best, but you know Diane. If someone tried to take Stella, she’d have said, ‘Over my dead body.’”
I hoped that wasn’t the case. “Shadow is free to help you out today if it’s okay with him. Who is feeding Diane’s dogs?”
“I’m taking care of them until we find her.”
“Keep me posted?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. See you at lunch.”
Oma was heading toward me. “I never want to be famous.” She pointed at the outdoor patio where Pippin and Jim were enjoying the sunshine. While they ate their breakfasts, people at the other tables watched, clearly fascinated.
“I presume you’ve heard about Diane?” I asked.
“Dave called me an hour ago. This is unimaginable.”
I explained about Augie’s call and that Shadow would be helping him.
Oma nodded. “I hope that Diane will turn up soon, and that she is surprised to learn people are searching for her.” Oma winked at me. “Maybe she has a boyfriend we don’t know about.”
I took Trixie out the front door for her morning stroll. She turned left and headed to greet friends at the area of grass designated as a doggy bathroom.
The sun shone, and there was little humidity. Perfect for a hike. People passed me on their way to breakfast at the inn, some with small backpacks, others with hiking poles. The Sugar Maple Inn was well-known for decadent breakfasts and drew diners who were staying elsewhere. We were the only restaurant in Wagtail that served afternoon tea, which was also a big draw. Our reputation for good food was one reason Oma chose not to serve dinner. Oma felt guests and visitors should get out to other restaurants and bars for their evening meals.
When we returned to the dining area, I opted for a table indoors, away from the Pippin fanatics.
Seconds after I sat down, Camille appeared. Her long brunette hair hung in informal beach waves. It was a casual look that I knew she had worked to accomplish. She was in full makeup, ready for photographs. Her hiking boots made clumping sounds as she walked toward our table. “Hi, Holly. I don’t see any of my group. Would you mind if I joined you? I hate to eat alone.”
“Trixie and I would love that. But Jim and Pippin are outside if you’d rather eat with them.”
“Oh?” She tromped over to the window and peered out at them before clomping back. “I really don’t want to be in pictures when I’m eating. Not unless I’m posing like I’m eating. You know what I mean? Holding a spoon of something and saying, ‘Yummy!’” She sat down. “Chewing is not when we’re at our best.”
“It must be hard to be in the spotlight all the time.”
“This is all new to me. The show was developed for Pippin. They pulled Finch and Howard in because they’re already famous.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “This is my big break. Roscoe Yates as producer, Howard Hirschtritt, Finch, and Pippin? It’s like a dream come true. I’m trying to make the best of it. I was so lucky to be chosen. But it’s easy to goof up. All it takes is the wrong tweet or photo and I’m dead in the water.” She grimaced. “Why do people wear these boots for hiking? They’re so uncomfortable.” She glanced under the table. “Is that what you’re wearing for the treasure hunt? Sneakers?”
“Unless you’re planning to be in rough terrain, I think sneakers would be fine.”
“Ugh. I’ll change right after breakfast.”
Shelley Dixon, the chief waitress at the inn, came over to our table and poured coffee. “Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s been a madhouse this morning.”
I smiled at her. “No problem.”
“The special today is, what else—Pippin pancakes with chocolate chips and maple syrup. For those who aren’t wearing Pippin ears, I recommend the broccoli and ham quiche or Oma’s German pancakes with fresh strawberries.”
“Oma’s pancakes for me, please. Is there a doggy version?” I asked.
“Of course. Instead of fruit, Trixie will have ground chicken and veggies with a bite of pancake.”
“Perfect.”
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” said Camille. “Do you have any plain yogurt? Maybe some strawberries without any sugar on them?”
Shelley smiled sweetly like she had heard this kind of order before. It reminded me of the way I ate before I came to Wagtail. Of course, in those days I spent most of my day seated at a desk. I wasn’t on my feet all day long like I was now.
Shelley nodded. “Are you going on the treasure hunt? You might want to eat something more substantial.”
“Just the yogurt and berries, please.”
“Sure thing.” Shelley hustled off.
“I hate asking for special orders,” said Camille, “but I don’t dare gain an ounce.”
“It’s no problem. There are several healthy low-calorie breakfasts on the menu. Including one with plain yogurt, berries, and nuts.”
“That makes me feel much better.”
Rae Rae showed up in the most bling I had ever seen for a hike in the woods. Her sneakers were covered with turquoise sequins, which matched the sequins on her T-shirt in the shape of dog paws that ran from the bottom of her shirt to her shoulder on a diagonal. “Isn’t this adorable?” Rae Rae asked. “I did some shopping yesterday before dinner. I had no idea there would be such wonderful stores here. It made me miss having a dog, too.”
“There’s a terrific shelter here. Maybe you should stop by and have a look,” I suggested.
“I might just do that. It’s time I had another fluffy sweetie in my life.” Rae Rae took a seat beside me just as Shelley served our breakfasts.
“I want what Holly is having, please! That looks delish. Oh! And with a side of bacon, please.”
When Shelley left, Rae Rae turned her attention to Camille. “Where’s the rest of your troupe?”
“Jim’s outside with Pippin, but I haven’t seen anyone else. Rae Rae, do you know why Howard dumped us? It troubles me. I feel like it’s some sort of test.”
“Darlin’”—Rae Rae fidgeted with a giant glitzy ring on her middle finger—“that’s just Howard. He may have awards and a reputation for being a marvelous actor, but Howard has been an undependable, self-centered horse’s patoot since the day I met him.”
“But he has such a good reputation,” Camille protested.
“He’s
good at what he does,” Rae Rae drawled. “I’ll give him that. But he is a thoroughly miserable excuse for a human being. Trust me on this. Once upon a time, I was engaged to be Mrs. Horse’s Patoot.”
Seven
Camille gasped. “Then you must know him very well.”
“Why do you think Roscoe called me to keep an eye on things? Howard was mad as a hornet when he found out that I was here.”
“Isn’t it hard on you to see him?” I asked.
Rae Rae laughed aloud. “Oh, you sweet thing. It was a long time ago. But I’ll admit that our breakup on our wedding day came as a blow to me. In all honesty, though, his wandering eyes did me a favor. I got out before we tied the knot. It was a painful lesson back then, but it saved me a lot of heartache in my life.”
Rae Rae pointed at Camille. “Do not succumb to his charisma. He may be a flabby, middle-aged man without much hair, but he can still be very charming. And he’ll suck you into his vortex before you know what’s what. Here’s the thing, sugar. He can do a lot for your future, but he’ll do more if he can’t catch you.”
Camille appeared horrified. “I’m lucky you’re here. He should come with a manual.”
“You’ll do fine. If he gives you any trouble at all, you just come to Rae Rae. Now, speaking of which, where do you suppose Finch and Marlee are?”
Camille shrugged and promptly ate some of her yogurt as if she didn’t want to reply. Luckily for Camille, Shelley arrived with food for Rae Rae, which distracted her for the moment. I had a hunch that not much got by Rae Rae.
I excused myself when I finished breakfast. I needed to hustle over to the staging site to take care of any last-minute issues that might arise. After leaving some Cow-a-Bunga Stew for Twinkletoes in our apartment in case she got hungry before our return, I grabbed harnesses and leashes for Gingersnap and Trixie and returned to the lobby.
We stepped onto the porch. One guest sat in a rocking chair with a cat on her lap and a steaming mug of coffee on the table next to her. She nodded at me.
