Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery

by Krista Davis

  “On a bench near Tall Tails.”

  I said good-bye and phoned Dave Quinlan. Officer Dave, as he was fondly known around Wagtail. He sounded almost as groggy as Val. But his voice cleared up as soon as I told him I thought we had a problem and described the man on the bench. “You’re sure he’s dead?”

  “I’m not even sure he’s real, but Val insists that he’s not part of the mystery weekend.”

  Soft giggling caused me to turn around. Myrtle and Weegie were watching something in the Dogwood Room. Oh boy. Guests were up and about but I didn’t smell coffee yet. “Dave,” I said into the phone, “meet me in front of Tall Tails in ten minutes.”

  “Okay.” He hung up.

  Trixie and Gingersnap had joined the group in the Dogwood Room. I walked over to see what was going on, dismayed to find that Puddin’, Weegie’s poodle, was licking Casey’s hand. He was splayed on the sofa, dead asleep, not unlike the first time I had met him. One arm hung off the edge, and his stockinged feet relaxed on the armrest.

  Trixie joined Puddin’ in licking his hand, and Gingersnap kissed his face.

  Suddenly, Casey shouted, “Seventeen seventy-five!” and jerked up to a sitting position. He blinked at us. “Did I fall asleep? Nooo,” he wailed. “I have an exam this morning.”

  The front door opened. Shelley and the cook came in with a blast of frigid air.

  Casey pushed his glasses on his face, grabbed the books that lay about him, and hurried to the front desk.

  “Isn’t he adorable?” whispered Weegie to Myrtle. “Reminds me of that boy who played Harry Potter. We could help him study.”

  “And let someone else be the first to find the clues? No, ma’am. We got up early to win, not to tutor some kid who—” she raised her voice so he would hear “—should have been studying all along and then he wouldn’t be in this fix.”

  “All right,” conceded Weegie. “I do have to let Puddin’ out anyway.”

  But I noticed that when Myrtle wasn’t looking, Weegie whispered something to Casey about helping him when they came back for breakfast.

  The scent of coffee brewing finally filled the air, making me reluctant to head back out into the predawn darkness and cold. But Dave would be there any minute.

  I headed for the stairs in a rush but Shelley nabbed me. “Holly!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I have a little problem and could use your help.”

  Uh-oh. This day wasn’t starting well. “Is it an urgent crisis or can it wait an hour?”

  “It can wait. What’s going on?”

  “There’s either a dead man or a prop on a bench outside but I’m not sure which it is.”

  “Good heavens!” Shelley waved her hands horizontally. “No problem. This can definitely wait. Did you call Val?”

  I nodded. “She says it’s not a prop.” I sprang up the stairs to my apartment as fast as I could, swapped my nightgown for a turtleneck, opened the dog door so Twinkletoes could come and go as she pleased, grabbed a warm coat for Trixie, and hurried back downstairs. Trixie was agreeable about putting the coat on and dashed out the door with Puddin’ at the first opportunity. Gingersnap parked herself just inside the door, her eyes trained on the stairs as if she expected more guests to wake soon and didn’t want to miss them.

  The blizzard had died down but snow fell so heavily that it still obscured vision. I stepped out on the porch, where Myrtle and Weegie had paused to pull on gloves.

  “My goodness, Myrtle,” said Weegie. “Maybe we should have a cup of coffee first. I can’t see my own hand.”

  “If we wait, someone else will snap up all the clues.”

  “I doubt anyone else is crazy enough to be out in this weather.” Weegie looked over at me. “What are you doing out here?”

  I paused a beat too long. What could I say? There might be a man frozen to a bench? “I have to meet someone.” That was true!

  But my moment of hesitation caught Myrtle’s interest. She knocked her elbow against Weegie’s, then pulled her hat down on her head more firmly. “She’s putting out clues!”

  I had to hurry but I took the time to deny it. “They were all out yesterday.” I said good-bye, suspecting they would follow me anyway. They did. Puddin’ ran ahead with Trixie, who raced along the sidewalk in the direction of the bench.

  I was pleased to see that the streetlight shed more light on the man now that the wind had died down.

  Dave was already there and leaning over to examine the man more closely. Formerly a naval sailor, Dave lived in Wagtail and kept an eye on it, even though the sheriff’s headquarters were on Snowball Mountain. Early to mid-thirties like Val and me, Dave had grown up in Wagtail. Sometimes he had a hard time convincing the older folks who had known him as a little boy that he was an adult now and in charge.

  He straightened up and asked, “You’re sure this isn’t some kind of stunt for Murder Most Howl?”

  Myrtle lunged forward. “Of course it is! There’s the poison bottle that disappeared last night.” She grabbed the bottle and waved it in the air, doing a little dance. “I told you the early bird gets the worm. Or in this case the poison!”

  Dave looked on in horror. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I have to take that. It’s evidence.” He held out his gloved hand for it.

  Myrtle clutched it to her and looked at me. “Isn’t this one of the weapons?”

  I was pretty sure that it was the same bottle Val had used the previous night. I glanced at Dave. “I think it is one of the pretend weapons for the game.”

  Dave frowned. “So this guy could be a fake after all? May I please see the bottle?”

  Myrtle stood her ground. “No! We found it fair and square.”

  “Ma’am, I am the local law enforcement officer. Now hand me that bottle.”

  Weegie nudged her friend. “Better do it, Myrtle.”

  The second Dave took it into his hand, he threw a dirty glance at me. “You knew this was a prop, and you called me out here anyway?”

  “Just because the bottle is fake doesn’t mean the man couldn’t be real,” I protested.

  Val arrived at that moment and overheard me.

  I looked at her, hoping with all my might that the guy really was a prop. She might pull my leg, but she’d have to be honest with Dave.

  A screech shuddered out of her mouth. “Good heavens. He’s not part of the game!”

  Behind me, Weegie exclaimed, “You mean that’s a real person? Someone sat down right here and died?”

  No one answered her.

  Dave touched one of the man’s frosty eyebrows. Apparently unconvinced, he tried to lift the edge of the knit cap. “It’s frozen to his head.” He stepped back. “Looks like Norm, doesn’t he?”

  That was why he looked familiar!

  Dave focused on Val. “You sure you’re not pulling a fast one?”

  “Honest! The participants only have today and a few hours tomorrow to solve the death of the Baron von Rottweiler. I decided a second murder would be too much for them to handle.”

  Dave’s mouth puckered. “So help me, if I call the rescue squad and this turns out to be part of your murder mystery—”

  “It’s not!” Val protested. “I don’t know if he’s real or not—gosh, I hope not—but I had nothing to do with it.”

  Dave pulled out his radio and called for an ambulance.

  When he was through, he leaned forward and unsnapped the top of the man’s navy blue jacket. He tugged at the zipper but it didn’t budge. He slid his fingers along the side of the neck and wedged them under the man’s turtleneck.

  I saw Dave’s shoulders jerk. He backed up. “I think we have a corpse.”

  “Don’t they freeze people on purpose sometimes?” asked Val. “Maybe they can revive him in the hospital.”

  “That’s right.” A glimmer of hope crept into me. “They lower their temperatures so their hearts hardly beat.”

  “Yeah? Well, if his heart is beating at all, I’d be surprised.” Dave scanned the area. />
  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Footprints. It came down so hard and fast that the snow melt stuff couldn’t keep up but the snow also did a great job filling any tracks.”

  Val cocked her head. “You mean the footprints from this guy?”

  “Or someone else.”

  “Duh. If someone was with him, wouldn’t they have called for help?” asked Myrtle.

  Dave simply lifted an eyebrow.

  “Surely you don’t think this was a murder!” I blurted.

  “I have to treat it as a crime scene until we know otherwise.”

  A beaming couple with pleased smiles hurried toward us. “Is this the next victim?” asked the man.

  Dave stared at them, clearly appalled.

  Thankfully Val had her wits about her. “No. I’m so sorry. This isn’t part of the mystery weekend.”

  Although snowflakes continued to fall, the sky was growing lighter. More people were gathering around to see what was happening.

  “Folks,” said Dave, “I need you to step back, please. Sir! Please stay on the sidewalk!”

  How could we get people to stop tromping on the snow in what I now feared might be the scene of someone’s death? There was only one solution. I pointed toward the inn. “Free coffee for everyone at the Sugar Maple Inn this morning. And in just a short while, we’ll be giving away a secret about the location of a weapon.”

  Val glared at me, her eyes wide. “You’re giving away secrets?”

  “I had to do something to get them away from here.”

  “How do you know the weapons haven’t already been found?”

  I hadn’t thought that part through. “Surely not all of them have been discovered yet. Besides, I can peek to see if the candlestick is where I left it.” I hoped it was still there.

  Surprisingly, almost everyone except Myrtle and Weegie hurried toward the inn. Either they were desperate for that weapon or they were as cold as I was. I looked down at poor Trixie. Her little paws must be chilled to the bone.

  Myrtle coughed politely. “Um, could I have the bottle back now?”

  “Myrtle! For heaven’s sake. Someone died,” hissed Weegie.

  “Don’t you get it? It’s an act. If this guy is real, then why did he have a game piece in his lap? They’re putting us on.”

  “I can see why you would think that,” said Val, “but I’m in charge of Murder Most Howl, and I can assure you that this is not part of the game.”

  Honestly, Myrtle looked at us so innocently that I wondered if she understood what was happening. Val turned to Dave with her palms up as if she was pleading with him, but I knew he wouldn’t give up the bottle.

  “How about this?” I offered. “You can’t have that weapon but Val and I will come up with a replacement for it. That way you won’t lose out on the power of having a weapon. Give us an hour or two?”

  Myrtle scowled at me but Weegie said, “That sounds fair. I’m freezing anyway. And look at poor Puddin’, she’s shaking, even in her wool coat! C’mon, Myrtle. Let’s have breakfast. You got what you wanted.”

  I was relieved to see emergency medical technicians calmly striding toward us. I unzipped my jacket, picked up Trixie, held her close, and wrapped the jacket around her. Val and I backed away to give the EMTs room. There was no mistaking their astonishment.

  The tallest one scratched the back of his neck. “In all my years I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Another one worked at unzipping the navy blue jacket. He slid his hand inside the man’s clothing but shook his head.

  The tall one pulled out a phone, walked away a few steps, and made a call.

  “They’ll take him to the hospital,” said Dave. “I think he’s beyond help but I’m no doctor.”

  The EMTs had trouble moving him to the gurney. After a few awkward attempts, they lifted him in a sitting position. Dave stopped them briefly and felt the man’s pockets. He managed to withdraw a wallet and motioned for them to continue.

  Dave flipped the leather wallet open and found identification. “Just as I feared. It’s Norm Wilson.”

  Seven

  The EMTs rolled Norm away on his back, his feet jutting into the air reminiscent of a dead bug. I turned away.

  I barely knew the man but the heavy gloom of death hung over me. It was so sudden and unexpected. And now I felt guilty for excluding him from planning Murder Most Howl. It had been Val’s decision, not mine, but he’d seemed so eager to help. It wasn’t important, just unkind of us. We really ought to treat everyone with more kindness. We never knew what might happen.

  “Looks like I’ll be paying a visit to Norm’s wife, Savannah.” Dave gestured with a halfhearted wave. “The worst part of my job. See you guys later.”

  By the time Val and I returned to the inn, the sun was valiantly trying to peek through gray clouds and the snow had tapered off considerably. Stepping inside the inn was a bit of a shock. The dining area was packed. Cheerful chatter filled the air. At two tables, diners exchanged good-natured banter about the murder of the Baron von Rottweiler.

  A cry went up. “Clue! Clue! Give us the clue!” They rapped on the tables like a rowdy crowd in a bar.

  “Better go see if the candlestick is still there,” whispered Val. “I’ll try to hold them in check.”

  How was I going to pull this off? Surely someone would notice if I kneeled on the floor and moved the books. If that happened, I would simply have to hide the candlestick again. Assuming they didn’t overpower me first in their zeal to nab it.

  I sidled into the library and, from a distance, peered at the bottom shelf where I’d left the candlestick. Someone had found it all right. In his or her excitement, that person hadn’t even bothered to clean up. Books lay on the floor in little heaps. I knelt to put them back. Now what? I had promised a clue!

  “Psst. Holly!”

  I looked over my shoulder.

  Shelley twisted a dishtowel in her hands. She motioned me over to the window seat. “Do you have a minute now? I need to do something about this before Val finds out.”

  I shoved the last book into place and sat down on the window seat next to her. Snow blew past us outside with a ferocious howl.

  Val handed me a piece of paper.

  Chop chop choppity chop

  Cut off the bottoms

  Cut off the top

  What’s left over we’ll put in the pot

  Chop chop choppity chop

  —Australian Children’s Rhyme

  “What is this?”

  Shelley’s face flushed. “The clue for the weapon I’m supposed to hide!”

  “For the cleaver? That’s cute. I’ve never heard that rhyme before.”

  “Cute?” Shelley hissed. “It’s the worst clue ever! Where am I supposed to hide it? In a pot? No one would ever find it.”

  “You haven’t hidden it yet?”

  “No! I didn’t know what to do with it. Val’s going to be furious if she finds out.”

  “Perfect. Where do you want to hide it? We can make up a clue, and I’ll announce it.”

  Shelley looked out the window at the snowy vista. “Can it be somewhere close by?”

  “How about the dock? I’ll tell them, Hickory dickory dock, the mouse went up the clock.”

  “You’re as crazy as Val. They’ll be looking for clocks!”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No. But I don’t want to go out in that awful weather.” Shelley looked miserable at the mere thought.

  “I’ll do it. You might need to distract them, though. The dock is visible from the windows.”

  “Would you?” Shelley brightened up considerably.

  “Sure, where’s the cleaver? I’ll do it right now.”

  “In the kitchen.”

  I followed Shelley and slipped the weapon inside my jacket.

  Val poked her head into the kitchen. “I’ve been pouring coffee and ran out. Where’s the coffeemaker? What are the two of you
hatching in here?”

  I whipped past her, leaving Shelley to come up with answers.

  Trixie followed me to the office. I grabbed some floral wire to tie the cleaver to a post, and we stepped out into the snow. Even though it had slowed, I couldn’t see the lake. If Trixie hadn’t had black ears and a black spot on her rump, I would have lost sight of her. It was deep enough for her to have to jump like a bunny to cross the pristine lawn. Negotiating the walk down to the lake was tricky. I fell and slid, which Trixie thought great fun and reason to leap over me. She yapped with delight at our new game.

  “You’re not helping.” I reached out to nab her but she darted out of reach, her little tail wagging nonstop.

  I made it to the dock and had second thoughts. We really didn’t want people having to slip and slide down the hill to get to the dock, did we? Huffing more than I’d have liked, I called Trixie and made my way back up to the inn. A different nursery rhyme ran through my head. Stomping to shed snow, I returned to the office, peered into what Oma called the emergency closet, and found just what I needed. I seized the broom and tied the mock cleaver onto it with the florist wire. Now where to hide it?

  It only seemed fair for one of the other merchants to benefit from it. After all, the candlestick had been found by someone in the inn. I looked down at Trixie. “Ready for another trek out in the snow?”

  She gazed up at me and perked her ears. I took that as a yes.

  Armed with my broom, I felt a bit like a Halloween witch as we walked out into the white world. The Blue Boar wasn’t open yet, but a young guy was cleaning snow off the restaurant’s deck. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Most of his hair was hidden under a knit ski hat but I caught a glimpse of friendly brown eyes when he flashed me a smile.

  “Hey,” he said.

  A common Southern greeting. He was local or from the South. I responded with “Good Morning,” thinking that the owner of The Blue Boar was a savvy guy around Oma’s age. He wouldn’t hire a louse, even to shovel snow.

  “Do you work for The Blue Boar?” I asked.

  He stopped shoveling and stepped toward me. “Just do odd jobs when they need me. Are you Mrs. Miller’s granddaughter?”