by Krista Davis
“Val!” I’d never seen her so upset. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t I? I haven’t been so angry since . . .”
“Since what?”
“I haven’t been so upset in years.”
Another player rescued her from having to explain. I stared at the little red envelopes he presented to me.
The Baron von Rottweiler’s third wife’s mother recently had an upper respiratory infection.
Holly Miller was fired from her last job.
That wasn’t exactly correct. Whoever wrote the notes about local people was taking liberties and presenting information in the worst possible light. Still, it was highly annoying. And some, like the one about Peaches and Larry, could have serious consequences. Larry’s marriage could break up because of it.
When the man left with his prize slip in hand, I asked Val, “Where did you buy the red envelopes?” I fervently hoped she wouldn’t say she purchased them online. If that was the case, we’d never figure out who wrote the ugly clues.
“At Pawsitively Decadent. They have a section in the back with wrapping paper and stationery. The red envelopes are meant for gift enclosure cards. I thought they were just the right size. And the red color would make it easier for people to find them.”
Val jumped up. “What am I thinking? I have to open the pub!” She shot out the door in a rush.
Half an hour later, Holmes showed up. “Val sent me over. I hear I can be useful checking clues.”
Perfect. I explained to him how it worked. As soon as he was up to speed, I retrieved my jacket and Trixie’s from the kitchen. Back in the lobby, I looked around for her. “Trixie?” I called.
“When I came in, she was heading upstairs with the little black and tan dog,” said Holmes.
I trudged up to the stair landing and called Trixie again. She appeared at the second-floor railing and looked down at me like a little kid who had been interrupted at play.
“Let’s go! Walkies!”
She scampered down to me. Back on the main floor, I helped Trixie with her jacket and called Gingersnap, but she was thoroughly engaged in a petting session with Robin. Her tail swished across the floor in delight.
As I walked by Holmes, I said, “Thanks for manning the fort.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To Pawsitively Decadent. I bet they don’t sell those little red envelopes in bulk to many people.”
On the porch, I ran into Blanche and Charlotte. For once she wasn’t carrying Ella Mae.
Charlotte stopped me. “Look what we had done!” She flitted her fingers in front of me like a new bride showing off her ring. Her fingernails had been painted with a glittering snowy white background. On alternating fingers were dog bones, dog paws, and tiny paintings of Ella Mae.
Blanche seemed subdued. At Charlotte’s prodding, she showed off her fingernails. A glittery blue background was perfect for miniature paintings of her saluki.
“We had such fun!” Charlotte said. “Our husbands have been obsessed with the clues, but we’re having a great time.”
They hustled into the inn, and I took off with Trixie. Dusk was moving in fast. The cloudy skies probably didn’t help. I wondered if more snow was headed our way.
The sidewalks of Wagtail brimmed with visitors. Dogs in a variety of sweaters and coats plunged through the snow with glee, Trixie among them.
She tired of it soon, though, probably because it was up to her chest. She ran along the sidewalk, stopping occasionally to sniff things that I couldn’t see.
At Pawsitively Decadent, I held the door open for her, and she readily ran inside. I was greeted by two unfriendly faces. The owner of the store and my own Aunt Birdie glared at me.
“I’m surprised that you dare to show your face around town, Holly,” sniffed Aunt Birdie. “It’s a good thing your grandmother isn’t here to see this mess you’ve made. You and Val are just spiteful and mean. You’ve libeled everyone in Wagtail.”
I tried to overlook her hatefulness, but I couldn’t help tweaking her just a little. “It’s not libel if it’s the truth.” Hah! That ought to shut her up.
I hadn’t thought Aunt Birdie could look more enraged, but I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Somewhat more meekly I added, “Besides, neither Val nor I wrote those clues.”
The store owner grumbled, “I should hope not. They say that I drink!”
“A dipsomaniac!” exclaimed Aunt Birdie.
He frowned. “There’s not a thing in the world wrong with a little Scotch at night.”
I tried to soothe him. “Of course not. Actually, the offensive clues are why I’m here. Val said she purchased the red envelopes from you. Do you remember anyone else buying some recently?”
“Only the people involved in your disastrous game.”
My breath caught in my throat. Shelley? Zelda? Surely not. They wouldn’t do anything to ruin Murder Most Howl. Could it be Hollis Hobbs, Shadow’s dad? “Oh?” I tried to sound casual but my heart was beating like a chugging train. “Who besides Val?”
“Not very organized, are you? Norm, obviously.”
Twelve
Aunt Birdie reached over and shook my arm. “Are you okay, Holly?”
I could barely breathe. In the frenzy about the fake clues, I had almost forgotten about Norm’s death. Even worse, I had foolishly dismissed Val when she said Norm wanted to make trouble.
“Do you remember when he bought them?” I choked out.
“Sure. Yesterday around noon. He asked me if they were the same type of envelopes Val had bought. I recall precisely because I joked about it being very last minute. Val bought plenty of envelopes weeks ago. I couldn’t believe she ran out.”
I wanted to kick myself. He had seen the clue envelopes on our table at the restaurant. That must have given him the idea.
“Did he say anything else?”
“Just how much he was looking forward to the game. He even came back later on and left some clues in here, which I thought was surprisingly nice of him.”
“Don’t be too impressed. He’s the one who left all those gossipy clues about you drinking, and about Aunt Birdie—”
She cut me off. “Nonsense! I will not have you speaking ill of the dead. Did my sister teach you no manners whatsoever?”
I almost giggled. She didn’t want me to say that she was stalking Max. Well, I couldn’t blame her. Especially if it was true. That kind of revelation was very embarrassing.
“Do you still have the clues he left here?”
His mouth swung to the side in irritation, but I could see a grin developing. “Now that you’ve gone and dragged my name through the mud, I don’t want to say anything nice, but you girls must have done something right. Folks barreled in here first thing this morning. Best day I’ve had since the holidays. This is the only lull I’ve had all day long. Those clues flew out of here like they were written in gold.”
“I’m glad to hear that! If you figure out anyone else who could have made up those fake clues, you let me know. Aunt Birdie, dead or alive, I fear Norm is our culprit.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than I wondered if his ugly stunt had resulted in his death. I had to talk to Dave.
“Trixie!” I called. Her nails clicked along the floor as she raced full speed to the front of the store with a giant carob-iced cookie in the shape of a squirrel in her mouth. The tail had already been consumed.
I had no choice but to buy it now. “I’d better take one for Gingersnap, too.” As I walked away to find another one, I overheard the store owner chuckle and say, “I sell those cookies like crazy since I put them down low where dogs can help themselves.”
I paid for my purchases, including a new catnip-filled white owl toy for Twinkletoes.
I stepped outside, wary about which Wagtail residents might be angry with me next. Everyone seemed to be going about their business as normal, though. Hours had passed since Dave said he was off to the pharmacy. I pun
ched his number into my phone. When he answered, I asked, “Where are you? I have information.”
“Just headed back to Norm’s house. Why don’t you meet me there? It’s number four Oak Street.”
I agreed, called Trixie, and we cut across the park toward Oak Street, thankful for the lights along the paths, which were growing increasingly dark after the early winter sunset.
Norm’s house turned out to be an adorable Cape Cod that I had admired many times when I walked by. They had put an addition on the right side with a perpendicular roofline and a Palladian-type arch in the porch roof over the front door. The house nestled in the embrace of old trees. Every light in the house was on, and spotlights mounted on the roof illuminated the outside, too. Under a black roof, the brick facade had been painted taupe with fresh white trim and adorned with black shutters. But someone had painted the front door the color of fresh leaves in the springtime.
Her nose to the ground, Trixie ran up to the front door.
Dave waited for me on the porch. “I thought we’d better talk out here. This has been a blow to Savannah. I don’t know if she should hear everything yet.”
Trixie faced the front door and yelped.
“Hush, sweetie.” I filled Dave in on the ugly rumor-type messages about Wagtail residents and the red envelopes. “Savannah probably won’t be happy to learn that it was Norm who was so malicious toward his neighbors.”
Dave took a deep breath. “Oh man. That changes everything.”
“You mean because it could have been anyone in town who was afraid Norm would spill their secret?”
“Exactly. The pool of potential suspects just grew.”
Trixie yelped again, and a dog inside the house barked in response.
The front door opened and a corgi trotted out, happy to see Trixie.
The attractive young woman holding the door threw me for a loop. “Y’all must be freezin’ out here. Come on in. Are you hungry? Folks have been droppin’ food by all day.”
Surely she couldn’t be Norm’s wife? She had to be twenty years younger than Norm.
She held out her hand to me. “I’ve seen you all over town but we’ve never really met. I’m Savannah Wilson.”
“Holly Miller,” I said to the woman I’d overheard talking on her cell phone the day before.
Thirteen
I stepped inside the house, thinking back. What exactly had she said on the phone?
A fire blazed in a comfortably furnished living room with a vaulted ceiling. They must have knocked down some walls because the house had the open floor plan that was so popular. As she had claimed, food in everything from fine china to aluminum foil covered the dining table.
“Look at that.” Savannah pushed loose blonde curls off her shoulder. “Isn’t it darling? Bingo is giving Trixie a tour of his home.”
It certainly seemed that way. I was slightly amused that she knew Trixie’s name but not mine.
Bingo led the way to his plaid bed and then to a box overflowing with dog toys. Trixie followed along, investigating everything thoroughly.
“Bingo is going to miss Norm.” Savannah tilted her head and watched Bingo. She carefully patted the corner of her eye, which was rimmed in heavy black eyeliner. “I used to tell Norm that Bingo thought he was a dog treat dispenser. He always had cookies in his pockets for his little Bingo.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I mumbled. “How are you holding up?”
“Everything has just been such a rush since Dave woke me up this morning that it really hasn’t hit me yet, you know? My parents came straight over and—” tears welled in her eyes “—I imagine tonight when it’s quiet, and Norm doesn’t come home . . .” She let the rest hang in the air.
We all knew what she meant. I sought something to say. “You have a beautiful house. I’ve always admired it.”
“Thank you. Norm hated this house. It was too plain for him. And he really hated my green front door.” Savannah chuckled and shook her head at the memory. “But he lived here to make me happy. He had bought a fancy place on the other side of town. It’s called Randolph Hall. Do you know it? A huge white monstrosity with columns all over the front porch. In the middle they even go up two stories. You know the house I mean?” She waved her hands. “It’s historical and all that but it’s just gigantic. Eleven bedrooms! It should be a museum or something. I said no way was I going to live in that hulking thing. Can you even imagine rattling around in a place like that? Not to mention the ghosts. Norm got it for a steal, and I thought he should sell it but he insisted he would live there one day.” Savannah stopped chattering and looked at her hands. Speaking softly, she said, “I guess he won’t now.” She looked away. “’Scuze me. Y’all help yourselves.” Savannah hurried down a hallway.
“How awful for her.” I felt so sad. A scrapbook lay on the table. A picture of Savannah and Norm on their wedding day was centered on the front cover. I picked it up and peeked inside. It began with photos of Bingo as a puppy. The next pages contained pictures of flower arrangements identified by little labels like From Norm for my birthday. She’d kept everything, including scraps of candy bar wrappers and paper napkins. They were interspersed with handwritten notes from Norm. In one photo, Savannah held pom-poms on a football field. A note beneath it said, You were the prettiest girl out there tonight. I felt a wave of revulsion when I realized that he was courting her while she was still in high school. Ugh. I slammed the scrapbook closed and set it down.
Dave drifted over to the dining table. “People certainly have been generous.” He popped a miniature ham biscuit into his mouth. “Mmm. I’d know Delta Hobbs’s biscuits anywhere.” Dave turned and looked out the large bay window. His shoulders straightened, and the fingers of his left hand curled into a fist.
I walked over to him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t say a word but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Someone had run through the snow in the backyard. The spotlights shone on one set of tracks and they sure didn’t look like dog tracks to me. They didn’t meander. And they only went in one direction, from the back door away from the house.
Fourteen
I stared at the footprints. They hadn’t filled in with snow so that meant the person ran out of the house after ten or so in the morning. The snow had been coming down fast before that. “What do you think it means?” I asked Dave.
“Holly, would you mind if I talked to Savannah alone?”
“Of course not.” I could take a hint. I called Trixie. When I opened the front door, Dave was still staring at the footprints in the snow.
Trixie trotted happily along the sidewalk, but I was in a melancholy mood. Someone had either been in the house during the heavy snowfall and left out the back when it had ended, or had entered the front door and departed from the back door.
Why? The only reason I could imagine was to avoid being seen. The bounty on the table was proof that Savannah had been receiving visitors all day. Had someone been caught in her house when others arrived? Who would slip out the back door to remain unnoticed? And why would anyone be concerned about that? Unless it had something to do with Norm’s death.
I strained to remember what Savannah had said on the phone. Her eyes had been rimmed in red as though she’d been crying. I stopped walking and tried to put myself back in that moment mentally. Blanche! She had mentioned that Blanche was in town. And something about doing it this weekend.
Dear heaven. What had she done?
Once again I needed to talk with Dave. I didn’t think he would appreciate being interrupted while he was questioning her, though. Trixie and I headed back to the green, which was now covered in white.
A small commotion was taking place at the front stairs to the inn. I ran as well as I could in my boots.
A cluster of people appeared to have cornered Myrtle, who had backed up to the second step. She held the poison bottle high over her head.
“What’s going on?” I cried.
Ten people
turned toward me, including some of Myrtle’s book club friends. They all talked at once. I caught bits and pieces as they spilled their ire. “Annoying . . . demanding . . . can’t stop and drink for fear of her . . . no peace . . . spoiling our fun.”
Before I could intervene, Geof Tredwell walked up behind Myrtle and snatched the bottle from her hand.
Myrtle screamed as though he’d stabbed her.
With a big grin, Geof held the bottle up like a trophy and the others cheered.
Myrtle shouted in protest, “That’s not fair.” She caught sight of me. “Is he allowed to do that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” We would all be relieved that she didn’t have possession of a weapon anymore.
“That’s stupid.” Myrtle shoved her way through the little crowd to me with Geof on her heels. “You mean if I tackle him, I can have it back?”
“No physical violence, please, Myrtle. He just swiped it from you.”
Under the porch lights, Myrtle turned a shade of red that frightened me for her health. “How many weapons are in circulation? That’s the only one I’ve seen besides the candlestick.”
“There are four in all. The poison bottle, a cleaver, a candlestick, and a gun.”
Geof smiled. “I had the candlestick at one time but someone stole it from me. You can bet I’m going to sleep with this thing. Now, Myrtle, perhaps we could have a little talk about your connection to the Baron von Rottweiler.”
Myrtle’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping in air. I gathered she didn’t much like having the tables turned on her. I tried not to laugh or smile as I passed them on my way inside.
Holmes still manned the desk and was accepting Norm’s gossipy clues from participants. Twinkletoes sat on the desk like an Egyptian cat, her tail wrapped around her front paws.
