Robert glanced up from his notes. “Air mattresses?”
Shelbee nodded. “Clarissa and Bruce are staying here tonight.”
Jac finished filling my mug and returned the carafe to the counter. She opened an overhead cabinet door and lifted down a tray. “I'll fix a few snacks to take up to our room along with the hot chocolate.”
Robert scratched his chin with the end of his pen. “Why are Clarissa and Bruce staying the night here?”
I sat down across from him. “Because Bruce believes Cafferty was murdered.”
“He thinks the murderer will kill again?”
Samuel raised his head, whined softly, then lay back down.
I took a moment to enjoy the sight of the two dogs before answering Robert's question. “That's his fear. He would never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn't here to prevent it.”
The back door rattled. I jumped at the sound as Bruce and Paw entered. Paw trotted to me and propped his chin on my leg. I stroked his back which felt cool to the touch. “Bet you're glad you have a warm coat on, huh, sweetie?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed.
I unsnapped his leash and set it on the table.
Bruce sat down next to me and took a big gulp from my mug.
Robert tapped his pen on the table and asked Bruce, “What are your plans for stopping the killer?”
“I’m staying awake and patrolling tonight. That's the best I can do until I find out who the killer is.”
Shelbee and Jac sat at the table.
Jac placed a plate of peanut butter crackers in the center of the table and pulled up a chair. “You can't stay up all night.”
“I can,” Bruce said as he took a cracker. “I've done surveillance lots of times.”
“But you have us.” Shelbee sat down next to Jac. “We’ll take turns patrolling.”
Bruce shook his head “no” before she finished speaking. “Too dangerous.”
I sighed at Bruce’s overprotectiveness.
Robert pushed his notes to the side. “I could watch.”
“No.” Bruce pulled the plate of crackers closer to himself. “You have to prepare for the game tomorrow.” He glanced around the table. “You all do. I can sleep tomorrow while the game is in progress.”
I stroked Paw's ears. “You don't think the killer will attack during the game?”
“No.”
Robert pulled his notes in front of him. “I'll finish these then since I can't change your mind.”
Shelbee picked up one of Robert's notes. “I'll help Robert finish these then go up to bed.”
Jac stood up and retrieved the tray on the counter. “I'm going up to bed. Come on, Samuel. Come on, Bitsy.”
Both dogs scrambled up and followed her out of the kitchen.
“I'll be up soon,” I called after her.
I turned to Shelbee. “Do you think Paw and Bitsy will get along tonight?”
Paw hated Pomeranians. He was slowly accepting Bitsy, and they had stayed together in the kitchen with surprisingly no problems, but I wasn't confident they could share a tiny bedroom overnight.
Shelbee scrunched her forehead. “Maybe.”
Bruce swallowed more of my hot chocolate. “I'll keep him with me.”
“Where are you going to be?” I asked as I snapped on Paw's leash.
“In the living room for now. I'll patrol every so often. Paw will let me know if something is wrong.”
I curled on my side watching Samuel in his sleep. Shelbee and Jac slept above me on the twin beds. The air mattress was surprisingly comfortable, but my mind wouldn't quiet.
Samuel's paws twitched as he slept. I wondered what he was dreaming. Perhaps he was chasing a squirrel in his sleep.
Bitsy was nestled in bed with Shelbee. The little dog huffed out a gentle snore.
I rolled onto my back. What was Bruce doing? How was Paw?
Click. The sound of a door being closed with care. To me, it reverberated in the silent night, and yet neither Shelbee nor Jac woke up.
Samuel raised his head, and Bitsy jumped down next to me. I sat up. Both dogs stood with ears perked, listening.
I picked up Bitsy and cuddled her. Time to investigate.
I slid off the mattress and stood up, jamming my feet into my slippers, and tiptoed to the door.
I turned the doorknob and eased the door open a crack, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Bitsy and I peeked through the opening. Samuel pushed his head in next to me. No one was in sight, but quiet footsteps faded away down the stairs.
Bitsy opened her mouth to bark, but I gently clasped her muzzle closed. Samuel whined.
I glanced between them. If I left them behind, they'd bark and alert everyone. Pulling the door wider I stepped into the hall, Samuel pushing past me. I closed the door behind us with a gentle snick.
The three of us padded to the stairs and descended. The halls were lit with strategically placed night lights.
When we reached the second-floor hall, I paused to listen.
Bitsy wiggled in my arms, so I set her on the floor. She yipped, and I shushed her. The little dog stopped mid-bark, giving me a reproachful frown.
Samuel, nose to the floor, tracked a scent. He trailed it to the stairs leading to the foyer and began to descend. Bitsy scampered after him.
I glanced around the second floor but saw nothing out of place, so I followed Samuel.
I stopped on the second step from the bottom and peered into the living room. No light shone from the room, but the moonlight through the window cast a swath of light across both sofas. They were empty. Silence filled the foyer.
Where were Bruce and Paw?
Samuel jerked his head up and turned to face the hall leading to the kitchens. Bitsy yipped and charged ahead. Samuel ran after her.
So much for sneaking up on whoever was creeping around tonight.
The dogs barreled through the private kitchen door.
As I ran after them, a female voice shrieked one piercing scream then silence fell.
I pushed through the kitchen door and skidded to a halt.
Patricia stood with a skillet raised in one hand as she fended off Samuel's kisses.
Bitsy danced around Patricia's feet.
I rushed over and pulled Samuel back.
Patricia lowered the skillet and set it on the counter. She held a hand to her chest. “You scared me!”
“Sorry. Samuel, sit!” He sat down and thumped his tail. “I thought the killer was creeping around down here.”
Bitsy stood against Patricia's legs. The innkeeper picked up the little dog and cuddled her. “I thought everyone was asleep but me, so I thought I'd make some tea.” She motioned to the canister of tea bags on the counter.
“I'll make us a cup. I couldn't sleep either. My mind kept running in circles over Cafferty's death.”
Patricia sat at the table with Bitsy on her lap.
Samuel walked over and lay by Patricia with his head resting on her feet.
Patricia sighed. “I wish Cafferty had never come here. All it has caused is trouble.”
I filled the tea kettle with water, set it on the stove, and turned it on. Taking a tray from the cupboard, I placed two cups and the sugar bowl on it. “Do you know where Bruce is?”
“No. I checked the living room when I came down. Thought Bruce would like some tea too. But he wasn't there.”
I selected two tea bags from the canister and set them on the tray along with two spoons. “Most likely he's patrolling outside. He'll have Paw with him.” I glanced at the kitchen clock. 2:47 am.
Patricia smoothed Bitsy's fur. The little dog smiled, with tongue peeking out, at the attention. “Henry is snoring on his bed upstairs. He's as bad as William.” She kissed Bitsy. “I'm glad they are safe.”
The kettle whistled behind me, causing me to jump. I turned off the stove, filled two cups with water, and carried the tray over, placing it in front of Patricia.
“How muc
h do you know about Cafferty?” I asked as I steeped my tea bag.
Patricia placed Bitsy on the floor, so she could prepare her tea. The little Pom yipped softly then curled up against Samuel's side. “Not much. I only met him when he showed up at the inn. I'd read William's sister's letters though. Cafferty was a horrible human being. I can understand why someone would kill him.” She glanced up at me. “Not William though. I hope you believe that.”
“I do, but it would help to know more about his life and past and the motives of the guests. Of course, his death could be an accident.”
Patricia stirred her tea. “I wish I could help you, but I've already told you all I know.”
A loud voice from outside said, “I have every right to be outside if I wish.”
Samuel and Bitsy jumped to their feet and ran to the door, barking in excitement, as I stood up.
The doorknob rattled, and the door swung inward.
Karen Taylor marched in with Bruce and Paw following.
“Woof!” Paw joined in the barking.
Bruce scowled at Karen. “There is a possible murderer on the loose. Why would you want to be out by yourself?”
Karen shouted to be heard over the dogs’ barking. “Young man, I can take care of myself.” To the dogs, she commanded, “Shut up!”
All three dogs stopped barking and tilted their heads to observe her.
I smiled at their cute expressions, but Karen scowled.
Chilly air swirled through the kitchen. I shivered as Patricia called, “Shut the door, please.”
Bruce obeyed, locking the door then shrugging out of his coat. “What were you doing out there?”
Karen ignored him. “I'm going up to bed.” She marched out of the room, her footsteps fading as she moved deeper into the inn.
Bruce glanced between Patricia and me. “Is everybody up?”
I hugged Paw. “No. Just us, unless the dogs’ barking woke someone up. We couldn't sleep.”
“Couldn’t sleep. So, you wandered around the house with a killer in it?”
Bruce's cold mood irritated me. “You are on patrol. Shouldn't we be safe?” I turned my back on him and sat down at the table picking up my tea.
Paw flopped at my feet while Samuel and Bitsy milled around the room, sniffing the floor.
Patricia stood up and retrieved another cup from the cupboard. “Come have some tea, Bruce. We ladies worry when our loved ones are in danger.”
Bruce sat down and accepted the cup of tea Patricia handed him. “Sorry.” He mumbled as he added two teaspoons of sugar.
I nodded. “Did you hear Karen outside?”
“No. I patrolled every hour. Paw heard her when we were in the back garden. He led me to the corner of the house, and we met her as she came around the side.”
“Good boy.” I stroked his back.
Paw raised his head and whined.
A scream rent the air.
Chapter 16
“Not again.” Patricia dropped her teacup. Fortunately, it landed on the table without breaking but did spill tea across the top.
The dogs barked and ran out of the room toward the sound.
Bruce ran after them with Patricia and me right behind.
Bruce climbed the front stairs two at a time and disappeared as he turned left at the top.
William, followed by Shelbee and Jac, descended from the third floor and met Patricia and I as we ascended from the first.
To our left Donna, James, and Jessica stood huddled together by an open door. Inside a woman wept.
I ran forward and pushed through their huddle. Karen Taylor knelt by one of the beds on which Madeline Wells lay still.
Bruce felt for a pulse at Madeline's neck then looked up at me and shook his head.
She was dead. But how? And why? And who?
The dogs, noses to the floor, sniffed around the room. Bruce nodded to them. “Get them out of here.”
I grabbed Paw's collar and tugged. He resisted, pulling against my hold, determined to sniff a pillow that had fallen to the floor.
He looked up at me as he pawed the pillow. “Woof!”
Bruce bent and looked at the pillow then back to the bed. He touched Paw's back. “Good boy. Now go with Clarissa.”
I tugged gently, and he willingly followed. Shelbee and Jac had pushed into the room and helped gather the dogs while Patricia knelt and placed an arm around Karen.
William, arms spread, ushered the guests huddled in the hall away from the door. “Please go back to your rooms.”
Bruce called to him. “I want everyone in the living room.”
James balled his hands into fists. “Who put you in charge?”
“I did,” Bruce lied as he folded his arms.
Jessica pulled her robe tighter around her. “I'm going back to bed.”
“No,” Bruce said, “you're not. The police will be here soon.”
Jessica grumbled but stayed where she stood.
Donna turned toward the stairs, speaking over her shoulder. “Come on, James. We might as well get comfortable in the living room.”
James glared at Bruce then turned and followed his wife.
“Humph.” Jessica turned on her heel and walked away.
William said to Bruce, “I'll call the police.”
I led Paw from the room and followed the guests who descended the stairs. With Shelbee by my side, cuddling Bitsy to her chest and Jac behind us, leading Samuel, we closed the dogs in the private kitchen.
Shelbee crooned to Bitsy. “Stay here, sweetheart.”
“Good job, boy.” Paw's tongue lolled out.
Jac set a bowl of water next to Samuel, who gulped it up. “I'm going up and getting Henry and Rascal.”
“I'll brew tea and coffee.” Shelbee set Bitsy on a cushion on the floor. “Are you going up to help Bruce?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I'll see if Patricia needs help with Karen.”
I turned to the door but stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute. Where’s Robert?”
“Oh, no!” Shelbee cried. “What if the killer attacked him?”
Jac hugged herself. “I’ll check if he’s in his room.”
“No,” I said. “Let Bruce do it.”
Jac and I slipped through the kitchen door, crossed the foyer, and climbed the stairs. Through the living room door, I glimpsed the guests huddled in silence. William sat in a chair near the door.
I heard a faint siren. Uncle Harry would soon be here.
I turned left at the top of the stairs while Jac climbed to the third floor.
Patricia supported a sobbing Karen as they walked down the hall. “We're going down to the kitchen for some tea.”
“Shelbee's preparing it. Why don’t you go to the living room?” I nodded to a weeping Karen. “Can I help?”
Patricia shook her head. “We're fine.”
Karen ignored me, too caught up in her grief. She clutched a wad of soggy tissues to her streaming eyes.
I met Bruce in the doorway of the room Madeline and Karen shared.
I shuddered as I looked at Madeline lying lifeless on the bed. “I wish we could cover her.”
“Not until Harry gets here.”
Louder sirens punctuated his words.
I worried my lower lip. “We need to check on Robert. We haven’t seen him.”
“Robert’s fine. He left the B&B shortly after midnight. Pedro was squawking and fussing, and Robert felt the parrot would calm down if he took him home. He’ll be back here early this morning.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and gazed around the room, attempting to avoid the sight of Madeline on the bed. I tilted my head in thought. “Why kill Madeline?”
“What do you mean?”
“As far as we know she had no connection to Cafferty. And Jessica was the one accusing others of murder.”
Bruce rubbed his chin. “Madeline wanted to continue the mystery game.”
“Yes. But what harm would that cause? We were hoping the killer would r
eveal something in the game, but it was a long shot.”
“We need to dig deeper. Perhaps Madeline was connected to Cafferty.”
“And if she wasn't?”
“Watch the door,” Bruce said as he pulled on latex gloves. “I'm going to search the room for any clue to Madeline's connection with Cafferty.”
I glanced down the hall. No one was in sight, but the police sirens were louder. “You'll finish more quickly with my help.”
Bruce grunted and handed me a pair of gloves.
I glanced around as I put a glove on my right hand. Twin beds with a nightstand between them filled most of the room. Madeline lay on the bed closest to the door. The other bed was neatly made with a floral-printed spread. The pillow we believed killed Madeline laid on the floor between the beds.
A plate of cookies and an empty glass with what appeared to be milk residue sat on the nightstand next to a lamp. The lamp cast the room in patches of light and shadow.
Bruce turned on the lamp on the dresser by the door, where a purse and assorted cosmetics were scattered.
Directly across from the beds was a closet, its doors partway open. A straight back chair by the closet held a large tote bag.
I pushed the handles of the tote open, leaving Bruce to check the nightstand and beds. I shuddered at the thought of searching near Madeline's body.
As I searched, I listened for sounds in the hall. I was anxious. When Bruce spoke, I jumped.
“Leave things exactly as you found them.”
I rolled my eyes although Bruce couldn't see as I was facing away from him. I'd searched rooms before and knew what I was doing.
I picked my way through the contents of the bag. A mishmash of possessions included a hairbrush, lotion, shampoo, and underwear. As I delved amongst the bottom layer of clothing, my hand hit something solid. I pushed aside the clothes and grabbed the object, pulling it out. “How did this get here?”
“What?” Bruce stepped closer and looked over my shoulder at the gun in my hands. “That's not real.”
The gun, made of wood, was carved in intricate detail to appear real.
“No. It isn't. It is one of the props that Hans Greble made for the murder mystery game. Shelbee showed it to me last night before she and Jac hid them for the game.”
Bassets and Blackmail (A Dog Detective Series Novel Book 2) Page 13
