by Krista Davis
I looked into Zelda’s sweet face. “Honey, you know the fake clues? There was one about you.” My heart pounded. This would be a good test of their veracity.
“Me? Hah! My life is so boring that they’d have to make up something juicy.”
“It said you borrowed a thousand dollars from a neighbor, that you didn’t repay.”
The color drained from her face. “Now that’s just not fair. It wasn’t me. It was my good-for-nothing ex-husband. I had nothing to do with it. Besides, if you ask me, it was all a con anyway.”
So it was true. Sort of. I shuddered. “What happened?”
“That stinking Norm had some kind of business gimmick going and got my ex all excited about it. We didn’t have two dimes to rub together, so Norm offered to lend my husband money to invest. Then, when it was a big disaster, Norm had the nerve to come to me and ask me to pay him! With interest!” Her tone grew shrill. “The divorce was already in progress, and I had kicked my husband out the door. I didn’t even know where he was. I never signed anything, I swear! Norm never even talked to me about it until that day. My idiot husband had run up a ton of credit card bills that I had to pay. So I told Norm if he wanted his money, he ought to go find my husband and get it from him.”
It was a convoluted story but I couldn’t blame Zelda for refusing to pay when she wasn’t involved. It didn’t make me feel any better about Shadow’s possible criminal record, though. It seemed that while Norm had put a twist on a lot of the clues, so far, it appeared that there was always a little truth behind them.
Zelda returned to the lobby to collect Leo.
I grabbed a spare key to my apartment and locked up the reception entrance and office.
Most of the book club ladies were still gathered in the Dogwood Room. I walked over to them. “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”
There was a chorus of cheers, and I noticed that one of them was wearing a lampshade like a hat. Someone had had too much wine with dinner. “I wanted to let you know that the roads have been closed. They’re too dangerous right now. The good news is that we’re extending Murder Most Howl, so you have another day to figure out what happened to the Baron von Rottweiler.”
“We’re not going anywhere tonight!” said one of them.
“Good to know because they’re expecting another big blast of snow.”
“Will we be able to go home tomorrow?” asked Sylvie. Her dimples disappeared and a worry line formed between her eyebrows.
“Is your husband all right?” asked Weegie. She leaned toward me and whispered, “He has a heart problem.”
“I’ll phone our neighbor. Maybe she can check on him.” Sylvie rose and walked past me toward the grand staircase.
The woman wearing the lampshade must not have been as drunk as I thought because she asked, “We’re gonna be snowed in?”
“I can’t say yet, but if I had to guess—”
“Yeehaw! Another night away from my husband, and I get to play hooky from work. Where’s that wine? I’m celebrating.”
“Oh my gosh, it’s like that book. Hitchcock made a movie where they’re all stuck at the inn and everyone gets murdered!”
“That’s not Hitchcock, that’s Agatha Christie.”
“No, it’s Clue, the board game. I am Miss Scarlet, in the Dogwood Room with—” she looked around “—where’s the candlestick?”
I figured that could go on all night. I waved in case any of them were paying attention and took my leave.
Myrtle followed me. “Do you mean we can’t leave?”
“Not until they open the roads.”
“There’s no way off this mountain? That’s not safe. What if there’s an emergency?”
“I guess they could load a person into a snowmobile.”
“Then I want to go down the mountain by snowmobile tomorrow. I have to go home. I have to be at work on Monday morning.”
“I’m sorry Myrtle, but if the roads are closed, it won’t do you much good.”
“This is an outrage. What kind of place is this? You’re detaining us against our will. That’s a crime. What’s it called? Oh yeah, false imprisonment.”
I was tired of trying to be nice to her. Still, I smiled sweetly. “You are free to check out anytime you like, Myrtle.”
A howling wind rattled the front door.
Myrtle scowled at me. “You know perfectly well that I can’t leave here in this weather. I’d die trying.”
It wasn’t like I’d suggested she camp outside. I’d had a very long day, so I just said, “Have a good night, Myrtle,” and walked away from the nutty woman.
I found Holmes in the dining area, next to the fire. He sat at a table with Geof and Ian.
“Excuse me.” I handed the key to Holmes. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Holmes checked his watch, a fancy number his fiancée had given him. “You’re so beat. I can keep an eye on things for the next couple of hours until Casey gets here if you want to go on up to bed.”
My visions of a romantic night by the fire with Holmes fizzled. The truth was that I was too tired to think let alone sit up by the fire. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that. Did you tell Ian and Geof about the roads?”
“I will right now.”
“Call me if you need anything.” I said good night and trudged up the stairs. Trixie and Gingersnap followed without being called. I thought they were probably as tired as I was. I changed into a nightshirt that said Sleeps with Dogs, and when I walked into my bedroom, I found Twinkletoes curled up and waiting for me.
I slid under the fluffy down comforter, ruing the fact that I had missed my chance to hang out with Holmes and get the scoop on his fiancée. Trixie and Gingersnap jumped up on the bed and staked out their corners, and I closed my weary eyes.
* * *
I awoke fully recharged and sat up. The world outside my window was white. Snow adorned the railing of the balcony. Trixie and Gingersnap still snoozed, with Gingersnap snoring softly. No sign of Twinkletoes, though.
Mindful of the fact that Holmes was in the apartment, I slung on the Sugar Maple Inn bathrobe that Oma had had embroidered with my name. I tiptoed toward the kitchen and heard Twinkletoes hissing.
Had someone’s cat gotten loose and made its way up here?
I peeked into the living room and found a rollaway bed with bare feet sticking out at the closest end. Why wasn’t Holmes sleeping in the guest room? Why was Twinkletoes sitting on a table near his head hissing at him? She loved Holmes!
I walked closer to remove her and discovered my former boyfriend, Ben Hathaway, was the owner of the bare feet jutting out from under the covers. He was fast asleep, and didn’t even notice Twinkletoes.
But when I picked her up, she acted like I had offended her, hissed louder, glided through my hands, bounced squarely off Ben’s abdomen, and flew through the apartment in a huff.
“Hi, Ben.” What else could I say?
He grunted and rubbed his eyes. “Did you just punch me?”
Uh-oh. I couldn’t admit that it was Twinkletoes. He wasn’t keen on animals as it was. “Would I do that?” I teased.
“Must have been a dream. I’m glad to see you’re back in the world again.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I went in to say hello last night and you were out of it.”
“I was pretty tired. What are you doing here?” I blurted out. I should have been nicer, but I hadn’t expected him to show up on a weekend when I had to work because Oma was away. And it struck me as odd and somewhat uncomfortable to have Ben staying with me at the same time as Holmes.
“Since your grandmother is away, I thought I’d come help out. I meant to be here sooner, but my car got stuck coming up the mountain.”
Holmes emerged from the guest room. “Dave had to rescue him.”
“Rescue is a strong word. Assist would be more accurate.”
“Is your car damaged?” I asked.
Ben flushed purple. “We,
uh, won’t know until they get it out of the snowbank. But, hey, I made it. Good thing I came, too. Holmes filled me in about the guy who,” he whispered, “was murdered.”
I was ashamed of myself. Ben had done something nice by coming to the Sugar Maple Inn but all I could think was that he had ruined my chances for a romantic moment with Holmes, who probably wouldn’t feel it necessary to stay over now that Ben was here. In fact, he might think he was in the way.
Before I moved to Wagtail, during a particularly trying time in my life, Ben had proposed to me. Twice actually. Once by text, and once in a pity proposal that made me realize we were through. I didn’t need his pity, nor did I want to spend the rest of my life with a man who saw marriage as a practical arrangement. I didn’t want to live that way. I had never thought of myself as a romantic, but rather level-headed, sensible even. To my surprise, I realized that if I was going to marry, I wanted it to be because someone loved me. I would have appreciated a single rose or a declaration of adoration. Even now I cringed a little to think that I felt that way. But I did.
What I did not understand at all were Ben’s repeated visits to Wagtail. He loathed the mountains and wasn’t fond of dogs or cats. He itched in the great outdoors. Maybe he just needed to get away from the city for some reason.
We heard a key in the lock, and Mr. Huckle shoved in a room service cart loaded with tea, coffee, a basket of assorted muffins and croissants, and a smaller basket of dog and cat treats.
Ben sat up. “Ah, my favorite part of staying here.”
“Good morning, Mr. Huckle.” He handed me a mug of tea. “How’s the weather?”
He stared at me in shock. “You didn’t hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“The storm, Miss Holly. The wind was frightful.”
I walked to the window overlooking the lake. Everything was covered with snow, even some parts of the lake that must have frozen.
“How are the guests taking it?”
“Most of them are still in their quarters.” He smiled at us. “Cook and Shelley made it, though.”
I flicked a light switch. “And we have power. It’s a good day!”
I grabbed a chocolate croissant and practically inhaled it. While the guys talked and enjoyed their prebreakfast treat, I hopped in the shower. I dressed in black jeans and a white cashmere sweater that would keep me warm without a lot of bulk. It was the perfect day for the dangling snowflake earrings Oma had given me. They caught the light and sparkled when my head moved. I slipped on my faux fur–lined lace-up boots and carried moccasins with me for indoor wear.
Ben and Holmes seemed to be getting along well. From the looks of the goody basket, and the way Trixie and Gingersnap focused on Holmes, I had a feeling they’d been given bits of banana muffins or plain croissants.
I fed Twinkletoes flaked cod, called the dogs, and left the guys to enjoy their leisurely morning. We trotted down the stairs, put on the coats I had left in the private kitchen, and walked through the inn to the reception area. Zelda hadn’t arrived yet. I unlocked the doors and let the dogs out.
They played in the snow with fresh enthusiasm. But poor Trixie had to work hard at jumping like a bunny. Every time she hopped, she disappeared in the snow again. I finally rescued her, and placed her where the snow wasn’t as deep.
I heard scraping and peered around the corner. Shadow waved at me. He had already made a significant dent in clearing the walkways for our guests.
At that moment, I despised Norm. If he hadn’t made up those horrible clues about the residents of Wagtail, would I be less suspicious of Shadow? I would have to talk with Shadow sometime about the missing necklace, but for now, I was just grateful that he was cleaning the walks!
By the time we returned, Zelda had arrived. “There you are. Officer Dave is looking for you. He said to tell you he’s at Café Chat.”
In my opinion, the inn had the best breakfasts in town. I had been fortified by that chocolate croissant, though, and Dave had to know what I had learned, so Trixie, Gingersnap, and I left, however reluctantly, and headed out in the cold to Café Chat.
In better weather, people always lounged at the outdoor tables. Some habits must die hard because one couple sat outside in spite of the weather. Steam rose from their mugs and their two Saint Bernards looked very comfortable lounging in the cold air.
I held the door for the dogs, who scampered inside. Dave sat at a table in the corner, eating scrambled eggs. A portly man sat across from him, leaning over the table a bit. As I drew closer, I could see that it was Larry, the chef who allegedly had an affair with Peaches Clodfelter.
I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. But Trixie had no such qualms and ran straight to Dave, planted her feet on his thigh, and cocked her head at him, clearly pleading for a bite of his food. Not to be left out, Gingersnap followed, sat down, and lifted a paw for Dave.
Dave glanced at them and looked up. He waved me over.
Apparently, their bad manners were rewarded. When I reached the table, both of them were chewing something. “Trixie! Gingersnap!” I scolded. They didn’t look one bit ashamed. In fact, they had the nerve to turn pleading eyes on Dave again.
“My new best friends,” he said, grinning at the dogs. “Have a seat.”
I pulled out a chair and greeted Larry.
He grunted and gazed at me with a swollen face and a whopper of a black eye.
“That looks so painful. What happened?” I asked.
“Val!”
I glanced at Dave, who continued to eat calmly. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Val slugged you?” Larry must have done something awful. Val wasn’t the type to haul off and punch someone.
“My wife coldcocked me.”
Dave tried to hide a smile.
“How is that Val’s fault?”
“You’re to blame, too!” A red flush crept up Larry’s jaw. “All of you who were involved in this misbegotten mystery weekend.”
It took more than a little bit of willpower on my part not to suggest that it might be his own fault for having an affair with Peaches in the first place.
Dave shook his head at Larry, conveying what I was thinking. “I can’t imagine what you see in Peaches anyway.”
Larry glared at him. “Really? As I recall, you thought her daughter was pretty hot.”
Dave almost choked on his toast.
These stupid rumors were making people turn on each other!
I took two deep breaths before I said, “It was Norm who spread the ugly rumors about local people.”
Dave stopped eating. “You’re sure?”
I explained about the envelopes.
Larry’s jaw dropped. “Confound that man. I never did him a dirty turn in my life. Too bad he’s dead. I’d have spit in his food if I’d known what evil lurked in his heart.”
Dave spoke in a monotone. “You better not be doing that to anyone. Evil heart or otherwise.”
Larry didn’t react to Dave’s advice. “No wonder somebody put that pestiferous louse out of his misery. More like out of our misery. He had it coming!”
He spoke so loud that Myrtle jumped from her seat and scurried over to our table. That woman was definitely an early riser. “Are you talking about the Baron von Rottweiler?”
Larry turned angry eyes on me before looking up at Myrtle. “The Baron von Rottweiler conned me into investing in one of his businesses, and I lost every last penny.”
Myrtle gasped. “Did you want to kill him?”
“Nope. But I’d like to kill Norm Wilson.”
Myrtle dug a tiny notebook out of her pocket. “Who’s that?” she asked as she wrote.
Larry sulked. His head seemed to sink between his shoulders, and he appeared to be done with Myrtle.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to her. “Larry’s being a little bit grumpy. Norm has nothing—”
“Wait a minute.” Myrtle stopped scribbling. “Norm’s the guy who was murdered!”
“Right.” I nodded at her. “But that has nothing to do with Murder Most Howl.”
Myrtle narrowed her eyes and leaned to the side a bit to get a better look at Larry. She raised her eyebrows, turned, and hurried back to her table. When she sat down, she leaned in and appeared to confide something to Sylvie and Weegie.
“What’s wrong with you?” I hissed. “I’m sorry that Norm let the cat out of the bag about your affair with Peaches, but you can’t go being a jerk to visitors.”
Larry leaned his forearms against the table. “I don’t think you understand. My wife has kicked me out. My entire life has turned upside down. If somebody hadn’t already done Norm in, I’d be doing it myself right now.”
With that, Larry stood up and disappeared into the kitchen.
My eyes met Dave’s. “Is he diabetic?”
Dave wiped his mouth with a napkin and fed Trixie the last morsel from his plate. “He hasn’t bought any insulin.”
“So he’s off the suspect list. Lucky for him. But he shouldn’t go around saying things like that.”
Dave avoided my eyes.
I frowned at him. “You’d make a terrible poker player.”
That brought a smile to his face. “I figured that out a long time ago.”
“You think Larry murdered Norm?”
Dave sucked in a deep breath. “You know I can’t tell you everything.”
I didn’t much care for this game. I couldn’t read his mind. All I knew was that he hadn’t crossed Larry off his suspect list for some reason.
Dave drank coffee from a Café Chat mug.
“Norm was married to Blanche Wimmer.”
Dave spewed coffee. Luckily, most of it landed on his plate. “Thanks a lot!”
“It’s true. Apparently, she was his first wife.”
Dave dabbed at his shirt with the napkin. “Who’d you hear that from?”
“Her sister-in-law.”
“I guess I know who I’ll be meeting in the flesh today. Are they staying at the inn?”
“Her sister-in-law is but Blanche and her husband are somewhere else.” I shrugged. “And I have one other little bit of information which I may not share now that you’re playing games about Larry’s involvement.”
