Bassets and Blackmail (A Dog Detective Series Novel Book 2)

by Sandra Baublitz

  I carried the mugs down the stairs to the kitchens. Perhaps I should have told Jessica that I wouldn't investigate for her, but since I was already questioning people, it seemed like an effective way to keep her talking to me.

  Paw met me in the kitchen and sniffed at the mugs of cooled chocolate. “None for you sweetie. Chocolate's bad for dogs.”

  I dumped the leftover chocolate down the sink and washed the mugs. Where was everybody? I heard no sounds from the commercial kitchen. Patricia had said she was going to prepare dinner. And where was Rascal? And the dogs?

  Paw woofed. As though he could read my mind, he walked over and sat at the door connecting to the back porch, looking over his shoulder at me in expectation.

  I hooked on his leash and opened the door.

  Paw sniffed the air before walking through the door. I took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of fall leaves, and stepped outside. Chrysanthemums in shades of red, yellow, and orange bloomed in the garden. Crickets chirped and hopped amongst the plants.

  Paw ignored the gardens, instead turning right and leading me around the side of the building to the parking lot. Six vehicles filled the space, including Robert Roberts’s.

  Paw passed the cars, tugging on his leash toward the cluster of trees at the back of the lot.

  Shelbee and Robert stood around one of the stately oaks that had grown here for decades.

  Squawk! “We have a problem.” Squawk!

  “Woof! Woof!” Paw lunged to the tree.

  I held on to his leash and staggered after him, nearly tripping in my haste.

  “Ack! You, big galoot. Get away! Get away!”

  Chapter 11

  Shelbee turned with a frown on her face. “I penned Paw in the kitchen because he scared Pedro, who flew up there.” She pointed to the brightly-colored parrot perched on a branch, three-quarters of the way up the tree.

  “Pedro.” Robert held up a piece of an apple. “Come here. It's your favorite.”

  Paw sat at the bottom of the tree, tail swishing back and forth, as he stared up at the parrot. “Woof. Woof.”

  “Hush, Paw.” Robert's voice held a note of frustration. He glanced at me. “Sorry.”

  “I'll take Paw back to the kitchen.” I grasped Paw's collar and tugged but failed to budge him. “Come on, Paw.” I tugged harder and pushed at his backside, trying to shift him.

  “Silly dog. Silly dog.” Pedro taunted as he hopped from branch to branch.

  “Grrr.” Paw shot up and planted his paws against the base of the tree.

  “Pedro, shut up.” Robert wagged a finger at the bird.

  Shelbee waved a dog treat in front of Paw's nose. He sniffed it but continued to watch the parrot.

  From my right side, I glimpsed a black streak whoosh up the tree.

  Squawk! “Ack! A cat!” Pedro scurried to the end of a branch with Saber stalking him.

  “Saber!” Lillian huffed into view. “Where are you, baby?”

  Robert lost all patience. “Lillian, get that cat away from my bird!”

  Paw continued to resist my efforts to pull him from the tree. His tail wagged furiously as he stared up at the bird and cat.

  Shelbee gave up tempting him and pocketed the treat.

  Lillian scowled at Robert. “Saber has a right to climb any tree he wants.”

  Robert turned to glare at Lillian. “Not now, he doesn't.”

  Meanwhile, Saber advanced along the limb of the tree and out to the branch where Pedro sat. The parrot kept squawking which only drew the cat's attention.

  I thought Saber was too heavy to climb out much farther than the end of the thick part of the limb. I was wrong.

  Step by cautious step Saber began to shimmy out onto the thin branch where Pedro sat.

  Squawk! Pedro flew from the branch, headed straight for Robert, whose back was turned as he argued with Lillian.

  Paw lunged after Pedro, but I grabbed his collar and hugged him to me. He stopped with a whine.

  The bird landed on Robert's back, digging in his talons for purchase.

  “Ow!” Robert jerked and raised his arm, trying to reach Pedro to unhook him.

  Shelbee rushed to Robert’s side to assist him.

  Saber slowly inched back along the branch until he reached a section that supported his weight. He sat up, tail curled around his feet, while he licked a paw and cleaned his face as though nothing had happened.

  Lillian skirted around Shelbee and Robert to join me at the base of the tree. She stared up at Saber. “Are you okay, baby?”

  Paw glanced back and forth between the cat and the bird. His momentary distraction gave me the advantage. I tugged him from the tree.

  Shelbee threw me the biscuit from her pocket which I used to draw his attention.

  Paw followed me, sniffing the treat. I led him back to the kitchen where he crunched his treat in contentment. Leaving Paw there, I returned to help Robert and Shelbee.

  By the time I returned to the scene, Shelbee had unhooked Pedro's talons and the bird perched on Robert's shoulder.

  I glanced up the oak tree at Saber who continued to wash his face, purring. Lillian stood with hands on hips coaxing him to come down.

  Shelbee pulled the back of Robert's shirt out and peered at his back. “You need to treat these scratches. Come up to my room. Pedro will be safe there.”

  I winced. Paw was partially responsible for Robert's injuries.

  We left Lillian talking to Saber at the oak tree. The cat would come down when he was ready. I certainly didn't want to be the one to climb up to him.

  Shelbee led the way inside and up the stairs to the third floor. Pedro balanced on Robert's shoulder, grumbling to himself. When Shelbee opened her door, Pedro flapped his wings, flew over, and alight on the sill by the open window. Fortunately, the window screen blocked his escape.

  “Pedro,” Robert snapped his fingers, “be a good boy.”

  Pedro ruffled his feathers but ignored Robert.

  “Robert,” I said as I sat down on one of the twin beds. “What did you do last evening after I left?”

  Robert unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his back. Shelbee picked up a tube of ointment from the dresser and uncapped it.

  As she smoothed ointment on his back, Robert said, “I dressed the mannequin body for the mystery game, checked on Shelbee and Jac, then went to my room.”

  “It's next door to the Daytons,” Shelbee said as she examined Robert's back. She patted him on the shoulder. “That should do. I'll check it later tonight and reapply the ointment.”

  Robert pulled up his shirt and buttoned it. “I wrote a chapter in my book but fell asleep before I finished.”

  Jealousy twisted in my gut. I was struggling to write a mystery novel. How could Robert write with such ease?

  Robert, ever perceptive, said, “The book's about acting. Lessons for new actors. Don't get discouraged, Clarissa. You'll finish your book. Persevere.”

  “Sometimes it feels like pushing a rock up a hill.”

  “All true accomplishments come with work and doubts.”

  Pedro flew over and landed on Robert's knee. “Squawk! Tell Kathleen! Tell Kathleen!”

  I smiled at the bird. “What are you to tell Kathleen about?”

  Robert smoothed the parrot's chest feathers. “He means I'm to tell you about Kathleen's escape last night.”

  “What escape?” Shelbee asked as she sat down next to me.

  “Kathleen woke me up, batting at my face. That's her favorite way to get my attention. Once I roused, she ran to our door and scratched at it. I crawled out of bed, scolding her about ruining someone else's property. She howled so I opened the door because I feared she'd wake the guests or the dogs. Loud barking would be a rude awakening to paying guests.”

  Shelbee nodded.

  “As soon as I opened the door, she scampered down the stairs. I grabbed a robe and ran after her. I paused on the second floor but didn't see her, so I continued downstairs. Muttering noises were coming
from the living room. When I got there, I found her sitting by the French doors, meowing quietly to an opossum outside. The opossum trundled away when he saw me, and I scooped up Kathleen. As I turned toward the foyer, soft footsteps padded down the stairs. Curious, I peeked out. Madeline Wells tiptoed across the foyer and entered the dining room.”

  “Madeline!” She had lied to me.

  “I sneaked after her. She crouched down in front of the sideboard, rifling through a drawer. Whatever she hunted she failed to find because she cursed and moved to the next drawer. I debated what to do. I hated to wake William.

  “Kathleen mewled, and Madeline stilled, listening, then cursed again and hurried toward the door, so I ducked behind the reception desk in the corner. Cowardly, I know. She breezed past me and ran up the stairs. I heard a door close upstairs.”

  “Did you see anyone else?” Shelbee asked.

  “No. I climbed the steps and paused on the second floor. No one was around, so I carried Kathleen up to our room and went back to bed. I planned to tell William in the morning, but then everything went crazy. There was no time to talk to him.”

  “Did you hear Madeline scream?”

  “I think everyone in the county heard her scream. That woman would be perfect for the stage.”

  I scrunched my brow.

  “She can project.” Robert motioned to his throat. “Her voice could reach throughout the theater.” As Robert was an accomplished actor, he should know.

  Shelbee shifted next to me. “What took you so long coming downstairs?”

  “Kathleen. As soon as I heard the screams, I jumped out of bed. Kathleen wound around my feet, tripping me in the dark. By the time I righted myself, she was at the door. Refusing to budge. Of course, each time I nudged her back, she slipped around me back to the door. I had to chase her and pen her in her carrier before I could leave the room.”

  I smiled at the thought of a big guy chasing after a little cat. She had him wrapped around her paw. “Did you pass anyone on the way downstairs?”

  “No.”

  “Where was James?” I mused.

  “You mean Dayton?” Robert shrugged.

  “He's the only one in the inn that no one has mentioned seeing when you all found Madeline.”

  Shelbee tilted her head in thought. “He could have been sleeping off all the wine he drank at dinner. Maybe he never heard the screams.”

  Robert snorted. “Those screams could wake the dead.”

  Before Shelbee could argue his point, someone knocked on the door.

  Pedro squawked and flew to the top of the armoire in the corner.

  “Yes?” Shelbee stood up.

  “It's me.” Jac opened the door and peeked around it. “Clarissa?”

  “I'm here.”

  “For goodness’ sake, come in Jac.” Shelbee waved her over to us.

  “I can't. I've got Rascal with me.”

  The cat, who was cradled in Jac's arms, poked his head around the door.

  “Cat! Cat! Help!” Pedro hopped from foot to foot.

  Rascal's eyes widened, and he gathered himself to lunge from Jac's arms. She held tight to him, gritting out, “Stay here you, ornery cat.”

  She backed out of the room, saying, “Get downstairs, Clarissa. Bruce and James Dayton are fighting.”

  Chapter 12

  I stayed motionless, stunned by her words. “What?”

  “Hurry!” Jac called over her shoulder.

  I ran to the door and out into the hallway with Shelbee on my heels.

  Robert said, “Stay here, Pedro.” The click of the door and heavy footsteps followed his words.

  The three of us rushed down the stairs behind Jac, who lost control of Rascal.

  He scampered past us up the stairs toward Pedro, intent on capturing the bird. I hoped Robert had latched the door.

  As I stepped into the foyer, James Dayton swung at Bruce. Side-stepping the punch, Bruce grabbed James's arm and pulled it behind his back.

  James cursed.

  “Watch your mouth.” Bruce pulled James's arm higher. “There are ladies present.”

  James glared over his shoulder at Bruce.

  The front door opened and Uncle Harry sauntered in. “I see you have the situation under control.”

  Bruce grunted. “For now.”

  Harry strolled over and placed a hand on Bruce's tense shoulders. “Let him go.”

  Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Why? He needs to learn some manners.”

  “Let him go.” Harry's soft voice held a note of steel.

  Bruce glanced at me.

  I nodded.

  Bruce released James and stepped back.

  James glared at Bruce as he straightened and flexed his shoulder and arm. He turned to Harry. Pointing at Bruce, he said, “Arrest him for assault.”

  Bruce tensed, but Harry raised his hand in a stopping gesture. To James, he said, “Seems to me you both were culpable.”

  James's gaze drilled into Harry. Before either spoke, Donna Dayton rushed in from the kitchen hallway and grabbed James's arm.

  “Ow!” He cursed again. “Woman, that hurts!”

  She ignored his protest. “I apologize for my husband's behavior,” she said to Harry.

  “And what prompted said behavior?”

  Donna shrugged. “My husband drinks.”

  “I'm not drunk.” James glared at his wife.

  Bruce shifted, drawing their attention. “You may not be drunk, but you're rude. You owe me an apology. And Clarissa.”

  Everyone glanced at me and back to James who said, “She's sticking her nose into Cafferty's death. She deserves what I said about her.”

  Ah. Now I understood. Bruce was defending me.

  “And if you didn't have anything to do with his death then it shouldn't concern you.”

  Harry stepped between Bruce and James before a new confrontation could erupt. Over his shoulder, Harry asked, “What did he say about Clarissa?”

  Oh dear. Now Harry was in protective mode.

  I cleared my throat. “It doesn't matter what he said.”

  Bruce and Harry ignored me. Harry pointed at James. “Apologize to her.”

  James stood silent. Donna shoved him. “Do it.”

  He huffed. “I apologize.”

  “Now,” Harry said, “go off and cool down.”

  Donna curled her hand in James's sleeve and tugged him toward the stairs. “We'll go to our room.”

  They skirted around me and climbed the stairs. Once they were out of sight, Harry spoke.

  “What was that all about?”

  Bruce rubbed a hand over his face. “I asked him his whereabouts last night. He told me to mind my own business then said the same about Clarissa.”

  “What else?”

  “He insulted her.”

  I walked over to him and placed my hand on his arm. “Bruce. They’re only words.”

  Bruce looked down at me. “He threatened you. Told me you had better stop sticking your nose into things that don't concern you.”

  “He threatened her?” Harry snapped to attention.

  “Not enough to charge him with a threat.”

  Harry grunted.

  “Maybe Jessica was right.” I thought aloud.

  “Jessica?” Shelbee asked as she walked over to me. “What about her?”

  “She told me that she believes Donna and James Dayton killed Cafferty.”

  “She got any proof?” Harry pulled out his notebook.

  “No proof. At least none that she gave me. She claims Cafferty was furious to find the Daytons at the inn.” I glanced at Bruce. “Jessica wants me to investigate.”

  “Well, you're not.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. “It's too dangerous.”

  Shelbee tapped her chin. “But James is a hot-head. Seems to me he was running his mouth.”

  “So?”

  “Bruce, if James truly meant Clarissa harm, wouldn't he have attacked her?”

  Bruce's jaw clenched
. “We're not waiting to find out. I'll investigate.”

  Harry cleared his throat. “That's my job.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Enough. We'll all investigate. Like Shelbee said, James is a hot-head. He mouths off a lot, but I'm not running and hiding from this case.”

  Harry opened his mouth, but I spoke before he could. “Uncle, I love you. And I know it's police business. But the guests will tell me things they won't tell you.”

  Harry closed his mouth with a scowl.

  Robert coughed. “If I may, has anyone determined the time Cafferty died? I mean, did Madeline find him right away or was there a lapse of time?” He shook his head. “I'm not explaining this right. If James killed him, it seems to me it would have been in a fit of rage. I never heard raised voices or fighting before Madeline screamed. Did any of you?”

  Silence filled the foyer. We had been so intent on Madeline's screaming that we hadn't considered the events of the death.

  “I'll speak with Hal immediately.” Harry turned on his heel. As he opened the front door, he said, “Thank you, Robert.”

  “You're welcome,” Robert called as Harry shut the door behind himself. To us, he said, “Who's Hal?”

  “The coroner.” Jac bent to pick up Rascal who had joined us in the foyer.

  “Where are the dogs?” Shelbee asked Jac.

  “In the kitchen with Paw.”

  “Thank goodness,” Robert spoke softly, no doubt thinking of Pedro.

  I focused on Bruce. “We need to question the Daytons, but your altercation poses a problem.”

  He grunted.

  “Let me talk with them,” Robert said from behind me.

  As I said, “Robert, I don't want to get you involved,” Bruce said, “Good idea.”

  Shelbee nodded her agreement.

  But Jac shook her head. “Wait until he calms down. We're preparing dinner now. You can talk to them after we eat.”

  “But,” Shelbee asked, “at dinner, aren't we going to suggest to the guests that the mystery game continue?”

  “What?” Robert crossed his arms over his chest. “That's in poor taste. A man is dead.”

  “Then you think of a way to keep them here.” Shelbee sighed. “Harry wants us to keep them in town, and Madeline wants to continue the game. We thought the game was a clever way to find the killer.”