Not a Creature Was Purring

by Krista Davis

  A large, dark mound lay inside. Far too big for a woodland creature, unless it was a deer or a bear, and that seemed unlikely.

  Rupert stepped in behind me. “Watcha see, little Trixie?” He aimed the flashlight toward the middle.

  Dale Thackleberry was sprawled on the bottom of the Grinch.

  Fourteen

  Dale lay on his back. I rushed toward him and dropped to my knees.

  Rupert followed and shone the light on Dale’s face. “You know him? I never saw this guy before.”

  “Dale Thackleberry. He manufactures dog clothes.” I grabbed Dale’s hand. It was as cold as the food in a refrigerator. It was probably too late for him.

  “Looks like he’s a goner,” said Rupert. “Friend of yours?”

  “He’s—” I corrected myself “—he was staying at the inn.”

  Trembling, I pulled out my cell phone. Because of the mountains, Wagtail was notorious for dead spots. I hoped this wasn’t one of them.

  “I better call from my landline,” said Rupert. He departed immediately.

  I tried punching in 911 anyway but couldn’t get a signal.

  Overcome with sadness, I hoped he wasn’t dead. I slid my fingers under Dale’s turtleneck in a desperate search for a pulse. His skin felt cold. His pulse had probably stopped quite some time ago.

  Trixie had quit barking. She sat down beside Dale as though she knew for sure what I didn’t want to accept.

  There was nothing to do but wait.

  Dave arrived in a matter of minutes. “This is Dale?”

  “Yes.”

  “His family reported him missing a few hours ago.”

  “They did? No one mentioned that to me. I think he’s been here awhile.” Much like I had, he checked for a pulse. He shook his head and sighed when he didn’t find one. He gently tried to flex Dale’s fingers. He sucked in a deep breath. “It was mighty cold outside. I don’t know if his fingers are stiff from the cold or if rigor mortis has set in. I already called the rescue squad so we wouldn’t waste any time, but it’s way too late for this guy.”

  Dave crouched and eyed Dale head to toe.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I don’t see any obvious cause of death.”

  Dave heaved his body slightly and rolled him away from us. His hands supporting Dale’s back, he said, “Shine the flashlight on him, will you?”

  I picked it up and aimed it at Dale’s underside.

  “There it is.” Dave ducked his head to examine Dale more closely. “Aw man.” Dave scowled. “At Christmas, too. What’s wrong with people?”

  Dale wore a lightweight winter jacket with leather on the collar and wrists. There was no doubting the blood on the back of it, even though the jacket was a dark gray color.

  “What do you think happened to him?” I asked.

  Dave rolled him back, stood, and reached out for the flashlight. I handed it to him, and he flashed the beam around the interior of the Grinch. “You touch anything in here?”

  “Only Dale. I don’t see anything else to touch except the walls of the Grinch.”

  Dave nodded. “He’s been stabbed. More than once.”

  The rescue squad arrived just then, and Dave motioned for me to leave. I picked up Trixie and stepped outside to make room for them.

  Neighbors had begun to wander out to see what was happening. Most had thrown winter coats or jackets over bathrobes. One woman wore curlers in her hair.

  Lights flashed as photos were taken inside the Grinch.

  The chatter among them was quiet but died down completely when Dale’s body was carried out and loaded into an ambulance for transit to Snowball. From experience, I knew they would send him to the medical examiner in Roanoke for an autopsy.

  Holmes ran up to me, breathless. “Everyone is looking for you. We were worried when you didn’t show up at Grandma Rose’s garage. What’s going on?”

  “I’m so sorry, Holmes. Someone murdered Dale.”

  “Thackleberry?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a tremor run through him.

  “Oh no.” Holmes rubbed his forehead. “He was such a terrific guy. They’ll be devastated. He was the backbone of that family.”

  “EmmyLou is going to take it very hard. Losing her father! Some Christmas.”

  Dave strode over to us. “I’m sorry, Holmes. I hear he was a friend of yours?”

  “Almost my grandfather-in-law.”

  His hands gloved, Dave held up a wallet. “Looks like he was mugged. There’s not a dollar in his wallet. No credit cards, either. I hope the idiot who took them uses them soon so we can arrest him.”

  Mugged and thrown into the Grinch? That didn’t sound right to me.

  Holmes sighed. “I hope you don’t mind if I skip elf business tonight. I think I should be with Dave when he tells the Thackleberrys.”

  “Of course. I should probably go back to the inn to make some tea for them or something. Maybe we can do double elf duty tomorrow night.”

  On the walk back, as soon as we could get signals, Holmes phoned Zelda and I phoned Shelley to let them know what was going on and call off the elf excursion.

  The inn was quiet when we entered. EmmyLou and Tiffany lingered by the dying embers of the fire in the Dogwood Room, probably too concerned about Dale to sleep.

  Holmes and Dave walked straight to them.

  I heard sobs before I made it to the inn kitchen.

  Casey emerged from the private kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  I explained what had happened and enlisted his help in putting on coffee and tea, and searching for something to serve the family.

  I found a glistening raspberry cheesecake and set it on a serving plate. I quickly spread the cook’s fabulous pimiento cheese on bread for sandwiches, cut off the crusts, and piled them on a tray. While ham biscuits were heating and Casey was eating some cold ones, I arranged red velvet cupcakes with luscious cream cheese icing on a larger tray.

  When everything was ready, I loaded it all onto a cart with cream, sugar, napkins, dessert plates, and mugs. Taking a deep breath to fortify myself, I pushed it across the lobby and into the Dogwood Room.

  Members of the family were still traipsing down the stairs in their sleeping attire.

  Norma Jeanne, I noted, wore a flowing silk bathrobe in a shade of pink that verged on nude. It was beautifully tailored and looked like something from a 1940s movie. Her matching slippers bore feather trim on the front and had little kitten heels on them.

  Her father, Barry, wrapped in a hunter green bathrobe, hugged her mother, EmmyLou, to him. Maggie, the German shepherd, whined at EmmyLou’s ankles. Tiffany cried. Austin seemed awkwardly uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know what to do. He probably didn’t.

  Dale’s mother, Doris, sat quietly in a chair, clutching Muffy. Her head bent forward over the dog.

  Linda appeared to be in shock. Her husband Tim asked me if we had anything stronger than coffee to drink.

  “Of course.” I finished unloading the cart so people could help themselves.

  As I passed the grand staircase, Blake nearly ran into me. He wore a silky short-sleeved top in blue with a loud dragon print and matching shorts. Over it, he had draped a black velvet robe that hung open. But I thought he could probably see better if he took off his sunglasses.

  I took a minute to dash upstairs to Oma’s apartment. I didn’t usually wake her for these middle-of-the-night matters, not that they occurred often, but she knew Dale, and I felt she would want to know.

  I knocked on her door softly. Gingersnap probably woke her. Oma opened the door, and Gingersnap barreled out, wagging her tail with delight at the midnight excitement.

  I explained what had happened.

  Oma sagged and
retreated into her apartment to sit down. “Not Dale,” she moaned. “Does Dave have any idea who would do such a terrible thing?”

  “I doubt it. He’s downstairs with the family now.”

  “I will come to help you. Give me a moment to change my clothes.”

  I left with Gingersnap, collected the cart, and went straight to our liquor selection. We didn’t often serve liquor at the inn, but some events required it, so we kept a stash on hand. I wasn’t sure what Tim had in mind, but I guessed it wasn’t an after-dinner type drink. I loaded the cart with glasses, brandy, Scotch, and Tennessee whiskey, and rolled it back to the Dogwood Room.

  Norma Jeanne clutched Holmes and cried on his chest. Not that I could really blame her. I would have too, under the circumstances.

  Tiffany appeared to have given up on Austin and cuddled Twinkletoes in her arms. I was proud of Twinkletoes for understanding that Tiffany needed her. Most cats would have jumped away at the wet teardrops hitting their fur.

  Gingersnap always seemed to know when someone needed comforting. She sat next to Linda, who ran her hand over Gingersnap’s soft fur.

  Oma had joined the grieving family. She had pulled up a chair next to Doris and clutched her hand. Muffy and Trixie roamed the room together, sniffing things.

  I couldn’t imagine their grief.

  Vivi finally made an appearance. She strode in, stood in the center of her family, and observed them, her head held high. Not a tear stained her face. Her lips were drawn in a tight line, and I noted that she had taken the time to change into a sweater and trousers.

  Dave watched the family, too. I couldn’t help wondering how he saw them. Was he watching for signs of a killer? A cop must see everything in a different light.

  He walked over to Vivi. “Mrs. Thackleberry, I am so sorry to intrude on your grief, but I’m afraid I need to ask you some questions.”

  She stared at him, cold as ice. “I know who did it. Her name is Birdie Dupuy.”

  Fifteen

  I stopped breathing for a moment. I never expected that. My Aunt Birdie?

  Holding his half-empty glass of Scotch, Tim sank into a big chair. “Oh no,” he moaned. “Mom, don’t start that.”

  “I’m not starting anything. Dale started it. She ended it by murdering him.”

  “Perhaps we should speak privately,” Dave said in a very kind tone.

  “I have nothing to hide. They should know what kind of man he was. All these years I’ve heard nothing but what a witch I am and how wonderful Dale is. Well, it’s time they knew the truth. My husband was having an affair with Birdie Dupuy. Why do you think he liked to visit Wagtail?”

  I was paralyzed. Oddly enough, Birdie and Vivienne were the same type in a way. Birdie would never steal a tip from anyone, but she was just as grumpy and querulous as Vivienne. They were both attractive women, about the same age. They were tough and stubborn.

  I couldn’t really imagine Birdie having an affair, though. But then, why not? She believed ghosts were living in her house. How many other secrets might she have? I had stupidly assumed her life was as staid as she was proper. What if that was all a facade?

  What was I thinking? Even if she had an affair with Dale, Aunt Birdie wouldn’t have murdered him. Would she?

  EmmyLou’s teary eyes narrowed and her chest heaved. “When is the last time you saw Dad, Vivi?”

  Vivienne’s lips tightened. “You won’t pin this on me, EmmyLou. He spent the night with her last night.”

  “EmmyLou reported him missing only a few hours ago, at eight in the evening,” said Dave, his tone a little incredulous.

  Vivienne appeared unfazed. “Are you suggesting that I should have barged in on my husband and his mistress? A wellness check, so to speak? If you want to know where he was today, I suggest you inquire of Birdie.”

  EmmyLou gasped. “Dad has been missing since last night? Why didn’t you tell me? You knew we were looking for him. All day long you made excuses that sounded like you knew where he was.”

  “I did know.” Vivienne was defensive. “He was with his mistress.”

  Tim rolled his Scotch glass across his forehead.

  EmmyLou asked, “Holmes, do you know this Birdie person?”

  Holmes looked straight at me. Gee, thanks!

  I took a step forward. “She’s my aunt.”

  Norma Jeanne looked up at Holmes. “Your friend’s aunt murdered my grandfather?”

  “Now just a minute,” I said. “We don’t know that.”

  Norma Jeanne looked at me incredulously. “What planet are you living on? Vivi just made it very clear.”

  “Like I would believe a woman who steals tips in restaurants?” It slipped out. Had I thought about it first, I never would have said it. I could feel myself flushing crimson.

  But Dave, Holmes, and Norma Jeanne were the only ones who reacted. The rest of Vivienne’s family took it in stride.

  Blake, who lounged in a chair much like his father, holding a glass of alcohol but more weirdly dressed, snorted and had to stifle a laugh.

  “Blake!” scolded his mother.

  Dave said very firmly, “Mrs. Thackleberry, I would like to speak with you privately. Now.”

  He gazed at me briefly. I nodded, assuming he wanted to use the inn office for a private interview as he sometimes did.

  When they disappeared down the hallway, chatter broke out among the family members.

  Tiffany declared openly, “I don’t believe her. Who would wait all day without saying anything when her husband didn’t come home? What kind of person does that?”

  Linda gasped. “Tiffany, she’s your grandmother!”

  Doris broke her silence. “Someone who did not wish to be caught would do that.”

  Tim drained his glass. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mom didn’t murder Dale. We all loved Dale. It was probably someone he did business with in Wagtail.”

  “Was Birdie married?” asked Norma Jeanne. “Maybe her husband or another lover killed him.” She avoided looking at me when she asked the question. Instead she kept her eyes on Holmes.

  He gazed at me, though. I could tell he didn’t want to answer.

  EmmyLou saved him by walking over to the hallway and looking down the corridor. “What’s taking them so long?”

  Less than fifteen minutes had passed. What she probably didn’t realize, but I suspected, was that we would be up all night as Dave interviewed each member of the family.

  “So how did Vivi do him in?” Blake looked around at his family.

  “What is wrong with my children?” Linda cried. “How can you be so crass? For heaven’s sake, I’m ashamed of you! She’s your grandmother! I can’t stand her. She’s argumentative and cheaper than anyone I have ever met in my life. Vivienne is the cause of a lot of strife and anger in this family, but she’s still your father’s mother, and if for nothing else, she deserves some respect for that.”

  Tiffany rose and helped herself to cheesecake and a cupcake. Austin joined her at the food but opted for a ham biscuit.

  Linda tried to get Tiffany’s attention, but it didn’t work. She forced a smile at Austin. “Tiffie, honey, don’t eat your emotions.”

  Tiffany shot a dark look at her mother. Her shoulders sagged. “How could you be so unkind at a time like this?”

  “Here they come,” said EmmyLou.

  We waited as the footsteps grew closer.

  Vivienne seemed none the worse for the interrogation. Either she hadn’t killed Dale or she was made of ice. I suspected the latter.

  Dave took EmmyLou to the office next.

  Blake sat up straight. “Hey. Dale’s death makes us the rich side of the family. Vivi, you’ll inherit everything.” He jumped up, loped to her, and embraced her.

  “Let go of me you little money-grubber. As I explained to the cop, Dale was worth m
ore to me alive than dead.”

  “You see?” Linda bestowed a smile on Vivienne. “That’s a very sweet sentiment. I’m sure all of us feel the same way. He enriched our lives, and we are poorer without him.”

  “Linda, you are such an idiot,” said Vivi. “I signed a prenuptial agreement when we married. On his death, I get ten thousand dollars. That’s it. Forevermore. Nothing else. I’m sunk.”

  Everyone stared at her in surprise.

  Norma Jeanne let go of Holmes. “So the money stays on our side of the family?”

  “What about the house?” asked Blake.

  Vivienne’s lips pulled tight again. “I have no rights to it.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Blake. “EmmyLou gets everything? Our side of the family is broke?”

  I couldn’t help noticing that Tim looked straight at EmmyLou’s husband, Barry. The conversation continued, but Tim stared at Barry.

  “The jet is ours, too?” asked Norma Jeanne.

  “I am not giving up the jet.” Blake sounded outraged. “You can’t imagine how awful it is to take public transportation.”

  “It’s too late.” Tiffany spoke softly, not looking at anyone. “None of us have use of the jet any longer. Grampy sold it. The ride here was the last one. It flew on to its new home.”

  Vivienne’s eyes widened. “That rat! He didn’t say a word about this to me. How can I be the last to know?”

  From their stunned and depressed expressions, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know. A glance around the room suggested strongly that Tiffany was the only one aware of these developments. Even Tim and Barry appeared to be stunned.

  Vivienne eyed Tiffany with suspicion. “Well, well, Tiffany. I had no idea that you were so close to your Grampy. Perhaps Officer Dave should be considering your motives for murdering Dale.”

  Linda gasped and jumped to her feet. “How dare you? Everyone rolls over backward to accommodate you, and you would turn on your own grandchild? Your own blood? You’re a miserable wretch, and I, for one, am through indulging you.”