Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery

by Krista Davis

  “How did you guess?”

  He looked down at Trixie. “Not to slight you any, ma’am, but your dog’s getting a reputation around town.”

  Trixie didn’t seem upset by that. She edged closer to smell his boots. Trixie had found a few bodies. I could imagine what local people thought. They probably ran when they saw her coming.

  I offered my mittened hand. “Holly Miller.”

  He laughed when our gloves were too bulky for a handshake. We tried a mock high five. “Shadow Hobbs. My mom owns The Cat’s Meow.”

  “I was just headed to her store. What else do you do for The Blue Boar?”

  “Whatever they need. I bring them firewood, and fix dishwashers, and—”

  That sparked my interest. “You can fix appliances? Do you mow and do yard work?”

  “Sure, but usually not when there’s a foot of snow on the ground.” He grinned at me.

  “We could use some help around the inn. Would you be interested in doing some work for us?” I could try him out to see how he did.

  “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll be over when I finish up here.”

  I waved at him and hurried toward his mom’s store. The front window of The Cat’s Meow featured an artfully displayed collection of items for cats and the people they owned. One of the resident cats, a long-haired tortoiseshell kitty named Mimi, sat in the middle of an assortment of stuffed toy cats and kittens, watching the snow fall. To her right, I recognized Zelda’s cat, Leo, draped over the perch of a fancy cat tree. Leo certainly got around.

  The store wasn’t open yet but I could see Delta Hobbs working inside. I rapped on the window. The bell on the door rang when she opened it. Trixie ran inside, eagerly sniffing everything she could reach. I had been in Delta’s store before but only knew her in a shallow sort of way.

  Delta smiled at me, pushing thick dark hair off her shoulder. “You’re an early bird today.”

  “I just wanted to leave this broom here. There’s a clue attached for Murder Most Howl.”

  “Oh my word!” Delta took the broom and spun it in her hands. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I was hoping I’d get some clues that would bring them in here.” She paused for a moment, and one eye squinted. “I’ll put it in the store window. What do you bet half of them will walk right by it?”

  I thanked her in a bit of a hurry, knowing that they were probably getting anxious about the clue back at the inn. Trixie and I shot out the door.

  To my left, I spied Dave draping the area around the bench with crime scene tape.

  I hurried over to him. “Does this mean Norm was murdered?”

  Dave shook his head. “Nope. He’s dead, though. We’re waiting for autopsy results.”

  “Then why the tape?”

  Dave shot me a deadpan look. “I don’t know how he died.”

  I guessed that made sense from a law enforcement perspective. “Come by the inn for some breakfast when you’re done?”

  “Thanks, I’d like that.”

  When I walked past the window of The Cat’s Meow, Delta was arranging the broom among the other items on display.

  We were halfway back to the inn when a wind blew in, lifting the snow and obscuring everything. I knew where I was but the snow swirled around me so thick and fast that I could have easily lost my way. I called Trixie and bent down to grab her. Clutching her in my arms, I forged ahead, bent over against the stinging ice crystals that flew through the air. Trixie didn’t even squirm. I thought she probably wanted us to reach the inn soon, too.

  I breathed with relief when I could make out the front steps. Still carrying Trixie, I staggered up the stairs and into the warmth of the inn.

  Mr. Huckle swooped down on me and took Trixie. “Miss Holly! We were worried about you.” He unfastened Trixie’s coat and removed it.

  “We’re fine, but it’s a blizzard out there.” I shed my jacket and boots, and hurried to the center of the dining tables.

  “I would like to apologize to everyone for taking so long. Trust me when I say you really don’t want to be outside right now anyway. Let’s hope this snow dies down. Here’s the clue you’ve all been waiting for.” I hoped I remember the words of the children’s rhyme correctly.

  ’Twas a stormy night

  When two little kittens began to fight.

  The old woman seized her sweeping broom,

  And swept the kittens right out of the room.

  —Anonymous (circa 1880)

  Participants scribbled the words. A few called out for me to repeat it. I was happy to oblige.

  The scent of hearty blueberry buckwheat pancakes and hot sausages laced with sage wafted to me, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten yet. Now that everything was getting under control, I thought I could pause for a moment to eat and savor some much-needed coffee.

  But first, I made sure Shelley knew that coffee was on the house for everyone this morning. Oma might not like that much but she probably would have done something similar had she been in my shoes. A number of the tables opened up rather quickly as people donned their coats and jackets and headed outside discussing clues.

  “Mr. Huckle, have you eaten breakfast?” I asked.

  “It’s been rather busy, Miss Holly.”

  I invited him to join me and sat down at an empty table. Mr. Huckle hustled over eagerly, took a seat, and leaned toward me. “Is it true that someone was found frozen?” he whispered.

  “News gets around fast.”

  “Half the out-of-towners were chattering about it this morning. Anyone we know?”

  “I’m afraid it was Norm Wilson.”

  “Norm! Well! I’m very sorry to hear that. Hmmpf,” he snorted quietly.

  “Do you know something about this?”

  “Oh my, no! I was just thinking that’s what comes of not wearing socks in the cold of winter.”

  I seriously doubted that Norm had succumbed to the frigid temps because of his bare ankles. Socks probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference unless they were extremely thick and warm. “I imagine he had a heart attack, don’t you?”

  “He was on the portly side. How very odd. I suppose he didn’t have the strength to stand and walk.”

  “Dave said they’ll be sending him for an autopsy.”

  Mr. Huckle frowned. “He was here last night. He didn’t seem ill to me. I’ve heard of people falling and freezing to death, but I can’t say that I have ever known anyone to sit down on a bench and freeze. Seems a bit peculiar.”

  I was about to agree with him when we heard thumping noises on the front porch. But no one entered.

  Eight

  Mr. Huckle and I exchanged a glance and hurried to the door. We found Shadow Hobbs cleaning snow that had blown onto the porch.

  “Come on in and have a cup of hot coffee. You’ve been out in the snow for hours,” I said.

  “Thanks, but I don’t want to track snow inside. I shoveled the walk between the inn and The Blue Boar, and sprinkled nontoxic ice melt on it. I hope that’s okay. I also cleaned up the doggy potty area. It looked like it needed it. You know, it shows more in snow than in the grass. And the snow had gotten too high for little dogs.”

  He was a gem! I looked at those sweet brown eyes and felt as though I’d discovered a gold mine. He hadn’t been told to do those things. He simply took it upon himself because they needed to be done. I had stumbled upon the perfect handyman! He was clearly a self-starter who didn’t need to be told every little thing. Oma would be thrilled that I had hired him.

  Brown curls peeked out from under his knit hat. He wasn’t as tall as I’d thought. Probably five inches short of six feet. His face was adorably earnest but someone really ought to tell him that the fuzzy triangle of beard just under his lower lip was not that attractive.

  “This is wonderful!” I exclaimed.

  A smile lit his face. “Yeah? I, uh, need to take a quick break. Something, um, came up, but if you’ve got anything else for me to do, I can come back in an hour or so.”r />
  “That would be terrific. We need someone to bring firewood in from the woodpile in back.”

  “Sure. I can do that. I can even split it for you if you want.”

  I loved him more every time he opened his mouth. “We’ll see you later then?”

  He nodded. “You bet.”

  I closed the door and said to Mr. Huckle, “I think I’ve found our new handyman.”

  Mr. Huckle raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be hasty about this.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Is there something wrong with Shadow?”

  Mr. Huckle paused. “I believe hiring a new employee is something your grandmother would rather do herself.”

  I was a little put out with Mr. Huckle. Maybe that was true, but Oma wasn’t here, and I was co-owner of the inn.

  Breakfast on my mind, I returned to the dining area but Myrtle rushed at me like a tank. I could tell from the determined look on her face that I wouldn’t get a bite of breakfast anytime soon.

  “No one believes that we have a weapon. We’re losing precious time here. Where’s the substitute poison bottle?”

  Oy. I had forgotten all about it. “I’ll work on that right now!”

  I whipped into the kitchen to swipe anything I could. The muffins looked good. “Hey, Shelley, I need an empty bottle as a replacement weapon. Do you know where Oma might keep something like that?”

  Shelley loaded a tray with dishes full of French toast. The scent made me want to stay put and eat. “Have you checked your grandmother’s stash in the attic? She saves all kinds of things. This isn’t the first murder mystery weekend. I bet she has some props up there somewhere.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that? Of course!” I dashed out of the kitchen and across the dining area. Trixie and Gingersnap ran with me, their noses turned up in the direction of the muffins I had grabbed.

  As soon as we were in the private kitchen, out of Myrtle’s sight, I paused and shared a muffin with the dogs. “Here’s the deal,” I told them. “We’re looking for a bottle. The sooner we find one, the sooner we can stop and eat a real breakfast.” They listened intently, their bright eyes focused on me—or the other muffin.

  “If we don’t find one, we may not eat more until lunchtime.”

  They snarfed their share of the second muffin, and as if they had understood every word, they shot through the doggy door and started up the hidden staircase, leaving me behind.

  I dashed after them. We climbed the stairs to our apartment, walked through it, and stopped at the door to the storage attic. Twinkletoes magically appeared as if she had a notion something exciting would happen there. I unlocked the door, and the three of them launched into the attic with enthusiasm.

  While they sniffed around, I scanned the large attic room hoping to see a stash of old bottles or boxes labeled Mystery Weekend or something along those lines.

  Across the room, a box crashed. Trixie and Gingersnap ran to their safety zone—me. Twinkletoes stalked away with her head and tail held high, pretending she had nothing to do with the loud noise.

  The box that had tumbled was labeled with my father’s name. Curious, I opened it. The dogs, feeling safer now, sniffed it eagerly. Twinkletoes jumped inside, purring. She investigated each corner and pawed at some old books. Apparently deciding it wasn’t worth her interest after all, she vaulted out of the box, leaped onto a table, and washed her fur.

  The contents were a fascinating look at my dad’s childhood. He read Tom Swift, the Hardy Boys, and Treasure Island. Nestled beside the books were a well-worn stuffed bunny, old 45 records, a stack of his report cards tied with a ribbon, and a host of other things. All interesting and worth a look at another time, but right now, I needed a bottle. I jammed everything back into the box and was stashing it near the wall when I hit pay dirt.

  An ornate display cabinet with gilding along the curving lines was almost hidden behind taller furniture. Through the glass doors I could see a collection of knickknacks and what appeared to be an old tea service. I wedged between a bookcase and an armoire to reach it. In a back corner was an old green bottle. Not too big, it looked like something that might have contained medicine at one time. Perfect.

  I called Trixie, Gingersnap, and Twinkletoes, locked the door, and pressed the button for the elevator. The second I did that, Trixie backed away in fear and shot toward the stairs. I was beginning to think she might never get over her fear of confined spaces. Gingersnap, older and wiser, stepped into the elevator as though it was perfectly normal. Even Twinkletoes pranced into the elevator without hesitation.

  Trixie was faster than the elevator, and the smart little girl was waiting for us when we stepped off. How could she have known on which floor we would exit?

  Gingersnap and Twinkletoes turned right toward the murmuring voices of diners. Trixie and I hustled in the other direction, to the office.

  Luck was with me. In less than a minute I found printable skull and crossbones poison labels on the Internet. I was even able to add the words Official Murder Most Howl Poison Bottle to the image. I printed it on a large address label and stuck it on the bottle. Voilà! “Trixie,” I said, “prepare to finally eat breakfast.” Coffee, I needed coffee in the worst way. I sped back to the dining tables, knowing I would finally be able to sit down and catch my breath.

  Myrtle, Weegie, and Sylvie sat at a large table with the rest of their book club.

  Trixie had the audacity to lick Puddin’s breakfast bowl in case she had left a morsel.

  I proudly announced, “Myrtle, this is the official replacement bottle. I apologize for the delay.”

  Sylvie reached for it.

  Myrtle clutched the green bottle to her chest. “Oh no you don’t. I see that I shall have to guard this with my life.”

  I hoped not!

  Sylvie scoffed at her. “Do you really think I’m going to run off with it?”

  “Yes,” said Myrtle. “That’s exactly what I think you’re going to do. If you had gotten up early like Weegie and me, instead of lounging until daylight, you might be entitled to the benefits. Now then, perhaps you could disclose your relationship with the Baron von Rottweiler?”

  “I just wanted to have a closer look at it.”

  Holding it firmly between her hands, Myrtle raised it in the air slightly. “You may admire it from afar. And now I’d like to know your connection to the baron, please.”

  The corners of Sylvie’s mouth turned down. “Very well. I’m not ashamed. I was his first wife. Apparently, he left me for some much younger trollop.”

  Weegie scribbled furiously in a notebook. “Well! I call that motivation for murder.”

  Myrtle eyed her friend. “I don’t believe you’ve told me your connection to the baron, Weegie.”

  Weegie pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m his third and current wife.”

  “Reaaaly,” drawled Myrtle.

  “You can’t think I killed him. I loved him!”

  She put on a good act, making me grin.

  Sylvie laughed. “We have a lot in common, apparently.”

  But Myrtle didn’t appear to be amused. Her eyes narrowed. “Have you obtained any other clues?”

  “You’re a pest, Myrtle.” She pulled a clue from her pocket. “I don’t think it means much.”

  The Baron von Rottweiler’s third wife has a brother, who recently made dinner for his mother and sister at their mother’s house.

  “There was another clue about his third wife,” said Myrtle. “I’ll have to check my notes.”

  It was an innocent comment, but Myrtle said it as though she thought Weegie might have really killed someone.

  Myrtle scanned the rest of the members of her group. They jumped up simultaneously, scrambling to depart.

  “Not so fast,” said Myrtle. “You don’t get to run away. I would like to know your secrets, please.”

  Some of them looked defeated but I noticed that a couple of them seemed pleased. Were the
y planning to lie to her?

  I spotted Mr. Huckle finishing his breakfast at a table near the window. I strolled over to join him, ready for my much-deserved coffee. “I think we have everything under control now.”

  “I hope so, Miss Holly,” he said.

  Across the room, Charlotte Tredwell watched Puddin’ and Trixie play with Ella Mae. Puddin’ and Trixie each outweighed little Ella Mae but there was no question that the tiny ten-pound dog thought she was bigger than either of them.

  Charlotte’s husband, Geof, chowed down on French toast, pausing only when Robin Jarvis made an appearance. Geof jumped up and pulled out a chair for her. Charlotte looked on, evidently used to such gentlemanly behavior.

  Robin and Charlotte launched into a conversation, leading me to believe they knew each other. Robin’s pale complexion contrasted with her dark hair. Bags under her eyes made her look tired and as if she had just rolled out of bed. But she had taken the time to accentuate her almond-shaped eyes with eyeliner, and despite her exhaustion, she drew admiring glances from a couple of men in the room.

  I took a deep breath and gazed around. People were laughing and lingering over coffee. I could hear them accusing one another of murdering the baron.

  Finally, everything was going fine. Myrtle had her faux bottle of poison, the Sugar Maple Inn had electricity, and it appeared that Shadow would make a pretty good handyman for the inn. At that moment, the sun even made an appearance in a chunk of clear blue sky. The air might be chilly and the ground might be covered with snow, but it was going to be a beautiful day.

  And then Dave walked in the front door with Holmes on his heels. They shed their coats and boots and headed toward us.

  Dave wore colorful woolly socks that couldn’t possibly have been part of his uniform. They showed a fun side of him that I rarely saw.

  The two of them greeted Mr. Huckle, and Dave asked, “Could we speak privately? In your grandmother’s kitchen, maybe?”

  Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good. “Sure.”

  Shelley arrived with a pot of steaming coffee and a basket of breakfast breads.