by Krista Davis
I stopped the golf cart and stepped out. “Mr. Finkelstein, are you okay?”
His face flushed red. “I hope you didn’t hear any of the choice words I used, Holly. I apologize if you did. My dear departed wife would scold me for using language like that. But some idiot stole my golf cart! How am I supposed to get around? Why would someone steal an old man’s transportation?”
Jim strode over to him and shook his hand. “Jim McGowen, sir. When did this happen exactly?”
“Well, it was still in the driveway when I had my coffee on the porch this morning. I remember that because I thought it needed washing. Then I drove over to”—he stopped abruptly and eyed me—“a friend’s house for brunch. It was good, too! Country ham, corn bread, and green beans like my mother used to make. I came home, so I must have had the golf cart. I watched fishing on TV. I guess that meal was so good that I fell asleep. And then I thought I’d enjoy the night air a little bit and sit on the porch swing. That was my dear departed wife’s idea. I never was much for swings, but it reminds me of her, so some evenings I sit in it for a while, mostly because she can’t sit in it anymore. So I came out to the porch and sat down. And everything was all peaceful. I thought I saw some fireflies. And when I looked closer, I realized the golf cart was gone.”
Jim grinned at me. “Is there any chance you forgot that you left it at your lady friend’s house?”
“I don’t recall saying anything about a lady friend, young buck.”
Jim bent and peered at him.
“I’m not that forgetful either. I can’t walk from her place to mine. Of course I drove home. How else would I get here?”
I pressed Dave’s number on my phone. He wouldn’t be happy to hear about a missing golf cart when he was dealing with a death, but if Howard had been murdered, chances were pretty good that the murderer could also be the thief.
“Did you hear any dogs barking?” Jim asked.
Finkelstein gave Jim an odd look. “Not while I was sleeping.”
I stepped away to tell Dave what had happened. As I expected, he was less than thrilled to have to deal with a missing golf cart, but he promised to be there as soon as possible.
“Officer Dave is on his way over. Do you know the make and model of your golf cart?” I asked Mr. Finkelstein.
“Why are you asking such difficult questions?”
“What color is it?”
“Red with beige seats. Is that good enough for you?”
I smiled at him. I would let Dave ask him for more identifying information. The color was a good start. I phoned the parking lot where visitors parked their cars and told them to be on the lookout for Trixie, Pippin, and Mr. Finkelstein’s red golf cart with beige seats.
Jim rubbed his eyes. “Really, Holly? You think a guy is going to murder someone, kidnap two dogs, steal a golf cart, and then leave through the main gateway in and out of town?”
“Murder?” asked Mr. Finkelstein. “You mean he would have killed me for my golf cart? I’m lucky to be alive!”
“Yes, you are,” I assured him. To Jim, I said, “He stole a golf cart. Where else do you think he’s going to go? He can drive somewhere, park the golf cart, and hike down the mountain. Or he can find a boat and row across the lake. If he wants to get out of here, which is what any smart criminal would do, his options are somewhat limited.”
Mr. Finkelstein frowned at me. “That’s just not true. He could thumb a ride. He could hide in the back of a delivery truck. He could pretend to be a guest and call a Wagtail taxi to pick him up.”
I placed my fingers over my eyes. “I don’t know where to look.”
“Don’t worry, Holly. Maybe the killer doesn’t have the dogs.” Jim patted my shoulder.
In my mind’s eye, I could see Trixie cowering at Wade’s feet. My poor baby. She must be so scared. He dumped her once. Why would he want her again? And then I remembered that someone seemed to know him. “Camille.”
The men stared at me like I had lost my mind. “She knows something about that man. Let’s go.” I assured Mr. Finkelstein that Dave would arrive soon.
Jim jumped into the golf cart. “I’m glad these things don’t go very fast. You have got to calm down.”
I ignored him and steered the golf cart along the east side of the green. My phone rang while I was driving. I pulled over, hoping it was Oma with good news.
It was Zelda. “Holly, are you looking for Pippin and Trixie?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“I’m having dinner at Hot Hog. Trixie and Pippin walked in by themselves, selected a table, and hopped up on a bench like they came to dine. Everyone is cracking up about it. The waiter brought them pulled chicken dinners. We’re all wondering how they’re going to pay!”
I started laughing, but tears came to my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “They’re okay,” I squeaked. I could barely see anything through my tears. What a relief. I had never been happier. My baby was safe. She wasn’t in the clutches of a horrible person. She would be fine and in my arms again soon. I couldn’t help myself. I laughed harder. I had been scared to death, and now all that anxiety was released. The tears kept flowing.
Jim peered at me. “If they’re okay, then why are you crying?”
“I’m just so relieved.” I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes. “We’re on our way. Zelda, if you don’t mind, could you try to keep them there?”
“Sure thing.”
“Where are they?” asked Jim.
“Apparently, they went out to dinner by themselves.” I gunned the golf cart toward Hot Hog.
When we arrived, Trixie and Pippin were still sitting at their own table eating yogurt-frosted pupcakes for dessert. They wagged their tails at the sight of Jim and me. After hugging Trixie and making sure she was all right, I paid the owner for their dinners and ordered enough takeout to feed Oma and Pippin’s crew back at the inn.
“Look at this,” said Jim, showing me his telephone. “Someone took a picture and it’s going viral. They’re calling it Pippin’s date night out.”
It was precious. I could only imagine that Trixie had been to Hot Hog so many times that she knew the drill. The scents that filled the air were certainly enticing. “I guess I know now which restaurant is your favorite,” I said to her.
Pippin and Trixie willingly followed us to the golf cart and jumped into it. I had a feeling they were going to take a long nap when we reached the inn.
We walked into the lobby to cheers and applause. Pippin was used to that, but Trixie danced in circles as though she understood that she had done something special.
Oma switched on the strings of pear-shaped lights that hung over the terrace. We carried the takeout dinners out to the terrace and shoved two tables together to accommodate everyone. I fetched two pitchers of iced tea and glasses of ice from the kitchen. Pippin and Trixie relaxed on the stone floor, but Gingersnap and Stella sniffed the air eagerly, hoping for their fair share of the takeout.
“So much for your theory that Wade murdered Howard,” said Jim.
“Murdered Howard?” Camille screamed like an ingenue in a horror film.
Twenty
Oma gasped. “The famous actor? Howard Hirschtritt?”
“Howard is dead? How did that happen?” asked Finch in his usual unflustered way.
Jim told them the sordid details. “Not the best dinner conversation. I’m sorry, guys. I wasn’t fond of him, and I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but the guy may have had it coming.”
Camille’s mouth dropped open. “It sounds like he was murdered! You think he deserved that? How unbelievably cruel of you.”
“He had a reputation. Of course, if any of that was true, you’d think he would have been axed in Hollywood years ago,” said Finch. “Not here on vacation where no one has ever had to work with him.”
“
Finch is right, Camille.” Jim bit into a rib that dripped with sauce.
“Oh, I just can’t believe it.” Camille sipped her iced tea but didn’t eat. “He invited Marlee and me to his place last night. When do you think it happened? What if we had been there?”
Marlee. In my fear that Trixie had been stolen by Wade, I had forgotten all about seeing Marlee at Howard’s rental house the night before.
Jim shrugged.
I wasn’t sure how much I should say about what I knew. “I saw him last night around eleven, so that narrows it down a little bit.”
Finch’s eyes met mine. “Was he with anyone?”
“He was all alone. He had come out of a bar, I think, and was stinking drunk.”
“I hate to be so selfish at a time like this,” said Camille, “but what about the show? Do you think it will be canceled?”
“He’s a secondary character,” muttered Jim.
“But he’s so well-known.” Camille still wasn’t eating. “Roscoe said he didn’t want anything to go wrong. Where’s Rae Rae anyway? I’d say something has gone majorly wrong!”
I was thinking that Rae Rae couldn’t prevent a murder but thought it wise not to say so. Especially since Rae Rae was probably going to be the prime suspect. Camille was upset. And rightly so. She had a lot riding on the success of Pippin’s show. I gazed around the table. And where was Marlee?
Oma observed them quietly as she ate. I suspected she was thinking the same thing I was. We were sitting with the top suspects in Howard’s murder.
“Pippin’s the real star,” Finch observed. “They can find someone else to play the role of a grouchy old man. All of us except for Pippin are expendable.”
Camille’s eyes opened wide. “You’re missing the point, Finch. It’s the publicity that will kill us.” She waved her hands as though she wanted to erase her words. “I didn’t mean to say that. Will kill the show. Are you sure he was murdered?” she asked. “He wasn’t, like, staging his death and right now he’s having a good laugh about it?”
“Not unless the cops were in on it,” I pointed out. “But it’s true that we don’t know for sure that he was murdered. Dave made a big point of that.”
Jim waved a rib when he said, “Dave was trying to stall rumors. We saw him. It was something I’ll never forget. People who die of natural causes don’t look like that. Listen up, now, everybody. They’re going to try to pin this on us, but Howard had something else going on in Wagtail. Remember how weird he was when we checked in? Why would he rent a house unless he wanted to meet with someone without us knowing about it? Why wouldn’t he stay at the inn or that other place in town?”
Oma nodded her head. “I think you may be on to something, Jim.”
Finch leaned back in his chair. “Okay, let’s work off that premise. But how would anyone be able to find out what Howard was up to? Unless someone was following him around, it would be impossible to figure out.”
“Marlee,” uttered Jim.
Finch shot him a look. “She and Rae Rae aren’t here, so they’re going to be our top suspects? If I weren’t here right now, would you point your accusing finger at me?”
“Oh, come on!” Jim whined. “You really don’t think those sunglasses and the wig are weird?”
“Wig?” asked Finch.
“Seriously, Finch. Don’t you look at people?” Jim shook his head. “She’s obviously not used to wearing it or wisps of brunette hair wouldn’t show on the sides. And those sunglasses are a joke. She’s like a private detective in a corny third-rate movie. What’s that about?”
Finch raised his eyebrows. “Huh. Turns out Marlee might be much more interesting than I thought. I had her chalked up as another wannabe actor who wasn’t having any luck breaking in. I meet way too many women like that. They want to be friends because I was a child star, but they’re not really interested in getting to know me. They just want to meet any connections I might have. When they find out I don’t have any, they leave so fast I can feel the icy air in their wake.”
It was the first thing I’d heard him say along those lines. Maybe that was why he didn’t show much emotion and had learned to be sarcastic to get by.
Camille pressed her lips together and looked worried.
“C’mon, Camille.” Jim gave her a little nudge. “We’ll get through this.”
“My dear ones, Dave and Holly will uncover the monster who has perpetrated this sin on Howard. You mustn’t worry. There is little you can do other than show your best faces in this terrible time.” Oma rose and bid us all a good night. She whistled for Gingersnap and Stella, who followed her into the inn.
“She’s right, you know,” said Finch. “The media will come after us. It’s best if we say how sorry we are and then change the subject to Pippin.”
Camille nodded. “And what kind of face do we put on when the killer comes after one of us?”
Jim nearly spewed his iced tea. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re assuming Howard was killed because of something he did. What if he was murdered because of the show?” Camille whisked her hair back off her face.
Jim and Finch stared at her like she was nuts.
“Why would anyone want to do that?” I dared ask.
Camille’s expression changed to one of horror. She flapped her hands in the air rapidly. “It’s Rae Rae. What do we know about her? We’ve been letting her tell us what to do. How do we know if she’s really Roscoe’s sister? How do we know if he actually sent her here? Maybe it’s all a ruse and she’s going to try to pin the murders on us. After all, she’s the only one who really knew Howard. Right?”
I didn’t say what I was thinking, because Camille was already agitated. No need to fuel that fire. But it had not escaped my attention that Rae Rae had known both of the victims. On top of that, they had both betrayed her. It had happened a long time ago, but sometimes people harbored resentment for decades. She had said it was a good thing she hadn’t married Howard, but what if she really felt that they had stolen her life, her plans, her happiness? Was Diane the reason Howard had wanted his own place? Could he have murdered her? Did he need privacy where no one would keep tabs on his comings and goings?
“Holly!” Jim snapped his fingers at me. “We could all use a drink to help us relax. Want to come?”
What I needed was a hot mug of tea to settle my nerves. I declined their kind invitation. Besides, Oma had gone to her quarters. With a full house, I should stick around in case someone needed something.
“Before you go,” I said, looking straight at Camille, “there is one thing I would like to ask. How do you know Wade Holt?”
Camille sucked her lips into her mouth and eyed us. “I heard that you thought he killed Howard, but I was hoping you’d forget about that. I am ashamed to admit that I was somewhat related to him.”
“Somewhat?” laughed Jim. “Do you share DNA or not?”
“Not! My aunt married him, and now they’re divorced. Wade is . . . a swindler. That’s the kindest way I can say it. He’s bad news. Frankly, I never thought I’d see him again. Last I heard, he was in prison in Ohio. When I spotted him here I was horrified. I honestly thought he might have escaped. But my aunt says he’s been out for years. He’s not even on probation anymore. Something I find very scary.” Camille gazed around at us. “Please don’t think poorly of me. A person can’t help who her relatives marry.”
Finch smiled at her. “If you dig deep enough, I bet most people have a relative they’d be happy to forget about.”
“Sure,” said Jim. “I have an uncle who gets staggeringly drunk at every family gathering. Not quite up there with being a con man but embarrassing nonetheless. Especially at elegant weddings.”
I shooed them on their way and gathered up the takeout mess. Satisfied that the terrace was ready for use the next morning, I called Trixie and the two of
us strolled down to the registration lobby to be sure the sliding glass doors had been locked for the evening. I left the lights on in case any guests happened down that way. We returned to the private kitchen to make the tea I craved.
I savored my tea quietly in the Dogwood Room, where I could see who came and went without seeming too nosy. Trixie hopped up on the sofa and rested her sweet head on my thigh.
I stroked her fur, relieved that she was okay and safely home with me. But I felt enormously guilty for imagining that Wade had murdered Howard and stolen Trixie and Pippin. Even if he was a swindler, I had jumped to conclusions in my panic and had been so wrong!
In fact, I felt a little bit better knowing that he was a lying cheat. For starters, it meant that maybe he was lying about Trixie having been his dog once. Maybe Dave had been right all along, and Wade had read about her in the magazine and gotten ideas. Additionally, I seriously doubted that Wade would pursue the matter in court, even if he was the person who dumped Trixie. My guess was that people who’d been imprisoned for conning others weren’t keen on returning to a courtroom. And surely, the fact that he was a convicted liar and cheat would weigh in my favor if I ever wound up in court over Trixie.
Still, I felt a little bit guilty for jumping to the conclusion that he had murdered Howard.
The front door opened and Marlee burst inside. She closed the door and caught her breath as though she had been running from something, or someone. She didn’t seem to notice me as she trudged to the grand staircase and up to her room. I heard her door close and wondered what that had been about.
I was itching to find a way to ask her about her wig and sunglasses, but nothing subtle had come to me yet.
Rae Rae entered the inn with her usual vigor. She spotted us right away and sank into an armchair opposite me. “Tell me, have you had a chance to chat with Marlee?”
“No.”
“She just ran by me outside like she was afraid. Now, if she was scared, you’d think she might have grabbed on to me, wouldn’t you? Either because there’s safety in numbers or to tell me to run, too.”
