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Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery

Page 14

by Krista Davis


  He paused a moment. When he had gathered himself, he continued. “I worked for The Doggy Bag.”

  It was a simple statement. From the way he said it, I gathered it was supposed to mean something to me. I didn’t have a clue what The Doggy Bag was.

  “I remember that place. They worked out of Randolph Hall,” said Holmes.

  Randolph Hall? The place that Norm bought and Savannah disliked.

  Holmes continued, “Takeout for you and your dog. It was very popular. Set to go big with franchises, right?”

  Shadow nodded. “Up until that lady died. The idea was that dogs are part of the family. So, instead of getting a bucket of chicken or whatever and bringing it home for the kids, you could get lunch or dinner from The Doggy Bag and feed the whole family, including the dog. They didn’t cook with onions or garlic or things dogs can’t eat.”

  “Interesting concept. So what happened?” I prompted.

  “It was my job to do the dishes, and mop the floors, and throw stuff in the laundry. When we were super busy, I would pitch in filling the orders or whatever they needed. So, this one day, Mike was out somewhere and Michelle was busy taking orders on the phone, so I was packing the food in containers. Juliana, one of our regulars, came to pick up her order. I was the one who filled the order and handed it to her. She went home and ate it and died.”

  “The dog, too?” asked Holmes.

  Shadow shook his head. “The dog got really sick but they think he could smell the . . . the poisonous stuff in it, so he didn’t eat much.” He ran a hand over Gingersnap’s head. “Dogs can smell like a million times better than we can.”

  His story was missing something. “You didn’t cook the food, right? So why were you blamed for Juliana’s death?”

  “Because she was poisoned by laundry gel packs. You know, the ones that are so colorful? A bag of them was out on the counter, next to where the food was being packed up, and they said I must have put them in Juliana’s food.”

  I shot a glance at Holmes, who looked as confused as I felt. “Why would they blame you?”

  “Because I was the one who set the laundry gel packs on the counter.” He wrung his hands like he wanted to wash the taint off them. “I was the one who was packing the food. Nobody else’s fingerprints were on the bag of dishwashing packs. Just mine.” Shadow winced and fell silent. “I never would have killed anybody. And even if I wanted to, I sure wouldn’t have done it that way! Who would have ever thought you could kill a person with laundry detergent?”

  “So it was an accident.” Holmes spoke gently.

  “I guess.” Shadow sucked his upper lip into his mouth so he resembled a bulldog. “I don’t have a better explanation. All I know is that I didn’t put that junk in her food. I’m not stupid!”

  “That’s why you have a criminal record?” I asked, just making sure it wasn’t the only reason.

  “I was arrested and charged with manslaughter. That’s when you kill somebody but you didn’t mean to do it.”

  “Have you ever stolen anything?” I asked.

  “Shoot, no.” He grinned. “My mama and daddy would have tanned my hide!”

  “Did you do time?” I asked.

  “Not much. My folks bailed me out, and then I got ten years’ probation.”

  I could see the problem with hiring him. If something did go wrong, if Shadow had another accident, the inn would be blamed for hiring him in the first place. No wonder he couldn’t find a job. The trouble was that I didn’t see a malicious person when I looked in his face. He didn’t shy away from looking me in the eye. I guessed that psychopaths were capable of doing that, but somehow, I felt that Shadow wore his emotions openly. What you saw was what you got. He didn’t strike me as a devious killer or a tricky thief.

  I decided to be blunt. “One of the guests is missing a shamrock necklace.”

  “I’m right sorry to hear that.” His eyes widened. “Oh! You think I took it?”

  “Did you?”

  “No, ma’am. No way! I told you, I don’t do things like that.”

  I believed him. I watched Gingersnap and Trixie. They had sniffed around a bit, then settled near us. True, Gingersnap liked everyone, but I wondered if she would be as fond of him if he weren’t really a good person. Besides, he would be outdoors half the time anyway, shoveling snow and cleaning up outside. “Okay, how about this. You’re not fired—”

  Shadow beamed at me. “For real?”

  “For real. But for two months you’re in a test period.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If you goof up, or you don’t come to work, or you don’t do your job well—” I paused, pondering whether I should say it or not “—or things go missing, then you’re out.”

  He gulped. “You think I took the necklace.”

  “Actually, I don’t. Holmes and I have been around long enough to know that guests like to blame the inn when things disappear. It’s probably on the floor somewhere, or in a dark corner of a suitcase. But for the next few days, I don’t want you in or near the guest rooms unless Zelda or I am with you. Got it?”

  “No. If you believe me, why would you make that a condition?”

  “Because the two guests who reported the missing necklace won’t be happy if they see you near the rooms.”

  He thought for a moment. “Yeah. Okay, you’re on!”

  I felt relieved when we left. I would check with Dave to make sure that there weren’t any theft allegations against Shadow. And if he didn’t work out, I could still let him go.

  When we stepped off the porch, Holmes slung an arm around me. “You’re such a big softy!”

  “You think that was a mistake?”

  “No, I think you did exactly what Oma would have done. She’d be proud.”

  Trixie and Gingersnap dug in the snow near a rhododendron. They buried their noses, but their tails wagged like crazy.

  “C’mon, girls,” I called. “Trixie, Gingersnap, come!”

  They pulled their noses from the snow and raced toward us.

  The sun glinted on something hanging from Gingersnap’s mouth. “What is that?” I muttered. “Gingersnap!”

  She trotted over to me, but held her head to the side as though she didn’t want me taking the prize she’d found. I grabbed her collar with one hand and gently took the thing in her mouth, offering a treat from my pocket in exchange for it.

  I held it out so Holmes could see. Gingersnap had found a gold chain with a shamrock on it.

  Nineteen

  What had I done? “Shadow lied to us!” I groaned.

  “You think that’s the missing necklace?” asked Holmes.

  “It was described as an inexpensive gold necklace with a shamrock. How many could there be? It was her lucky necklace.”

  “There must be a million necklaces like that. Of course, the odds of one of them happening to be at Shadow’s house aren’t very good.” He snorted a laugh. “Doesn’t seem like it’s bringing anyone luck. She lost it, and now it looks really bad for Shadow.”

  “I feel like such an idiot. I believed him!”

  “I did, too. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  “Tell me one logical reason that this necklace might have happened to be here.”

  “It belongs to his girlfriend, and she lost it.” He looked at the little gold necklace with a green shamrock pendant and took it from my hand. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t confront him, Holmes!”

  He ignored me, loped back to the spot where the dogs had found it, and hung it from a branch of the rhododendron where Shadow would have to see it.

  He jogged back to me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, incredulous.

  “This is a test to see what Shadow does. I’m giving him a chance to save face.”

  “You expect him to return it, thus proving—what?”

  “If he brings it back, he’ll prove his good intentions. If he tries to sneak it into a room o
r never says anything about it, that will prove his guilt.”

  “I think his guilt is pretty well established. That necklace didn’t get to his house by accident.”

  “Give him a chance. I find it hard to believe that he could lie so convincingly.”

  I was having the same problem. Was he that adept at lying? Somehow, I didn’t think so. But there wasn’t a good explanation for the necklace turning up at his place. I met Holmes’s hopeful eyes. I had nothing to lose. At least if he showed up with it, I could fire him on the spot. He might even quit. “Okay. I can’t believe that I’m going to have to fire Shadow.” I moaned. “I thought I was doing the right thing. After all, it didn’t sound like he meant to kill Juliana. Of course, if I had known her, I probably would feel differently. Do you think he poisoned her intentionally and lied through his teeth to us just now?”

  Holmes shrugged and steered me along the street on a different path home. Before we crossed the street back into the heart of Wagtail, we stopped for a moment to watch children sledding on a hillside. They screamed and laughed, even when they fell off their sleds.

  Trixie and Gingersnap joined the fray, barking and running along behind the kids.

  One little boy, about eight I thought, slammed his sled into his mother’s legs and stomped off a short distance. Naturally, all the adults watching the fun turned their attention to her. “I’m sorry,” she said to no one, yet everyone. “He’s usually not so—” she raised her voice “—ill-tempered. His sled blew away in the storm last night, and he doesn’t like the new one I just bought because it’s not red.”

  The little boy shouted back at her, “I don’t like the new one because it’s not slick and fast like my old one.”

  Holmes grinned. “Can I try it?”

  Oh no. We really needed to get back to the inn. What was he doing?

  He grabbed my hand. “C’mon, Holly.”

  He raced up the hill tugging me along behind him. In seconds, he sat on the sled. It was big enough to hold two, but barely.

  I tottered as I stepped on it behind him and eased into a sitting position.

  “Hold on!” he shouted as he pushed the snow with his hands.

  I wrapped my arms around him, thinking more about the fact that my face had accidentally brushed his hair as I boarded than the fact that we were about to take off.

  The sled flew downhill at an incredible speed. That little boy was nuts. Gingersnap and Trixie barked alongside us until we turned over in a tangled heap. Holmes and I laughed like kids. I could have sworn there was a moment when he looked into my eyes. Just the flicker of a connection before the sled took off without us, commandeered by Gingersnap and Trixie, who rode to the bottom of the hill on their own.

  “Did you see that?” I asked. “It was like they understood how to sled.”

  Holmes laughed. “Man, that was fun! I haven’t done that in years.” He reached toward my face. “Hang on, you have snow in your hair.”

  He grinned as he brushed it away.

  My heart beat faster. No question about it—snow, fireplaces, cuddling up close—winter was definitely romantic.

  Holmes seized my hand and didn’t let go when we walked the rest of the way down the hill. I savored the moment, knowing there wouldn’t be many more like this when he finally tied the knot.

  Aunt Birdie waited at the bottom, her arms crossed, and her eyebrows raised. Oh no!

  “Having fun while your grandmother is away? I would think you would be more concerned about Murder Most Howl, the lies being spread about the good people of Wagtail, and . . .” She lowered her voice and hissed, “Norm’s death.”

  I was mortified. What could I say to mollify her? If there was one thing she liked, it was being needed. “Aunt Birdie, why don’t you drop by the inn for high tea today. Maybe you could help me with a little problem.”

  Holmes gave me an are-you-nuts glance. He grabbed the sled and towed it over to the little boy. “Thanks! This is the fastest sled in Wagtail. I’ll give you twenty bucks for it.”

  Aunt Birdie took that opportunity to whisper, “Holly! He’s engaged.”

  I was more painfully aware of that fact than anyone else on the planet, except maybe for his fiancée.

  The little boy’s sour expression changed. He took the rope handle from Holmes. “No, thanks. I think I’ll keep it.”

  Holmes nodded. “Good choice. But you call me if you decide to sell, okay?”

  The boy’s mom mouthed “Thank you” to Holmes. She beamed as her son started the trek back up the hill.

  Holmes joined us, still brushing snow off his trousers.

  “We’ll see you later, then?” I asked Birdie.

  She nodded, but the critical look on her face told me she was still thinking about Holmes and me. I called the dogs, who were all too ready to walk home.

  A couple of blocks later, a little Yorkie wearing a fluffy pink jacket that matched the bow tying her hair up out of her cute face ran down her sidewalk to greet Trixie and Gingersnap. I recognized GloryB, who had stayed with us at the inn in the fall.

  Her mom, Lillian Elsner, wasn’t too far behind. “She’s not home,” she said, laughing.

  “Who?” I asked. I thought she lived alone with GloryB.

  “Blanche. Isn’t that why you’re here? There’s been a steady parade of looky-loos on the sidewalk since word got out that Blanche is staying at Randolph Hall.” She nodded at the mansion across the street. “GloryB has been glued to the window, watching everyone. She’s seen a lot of her friends from the park, too. Bingo dropped by Friday morning and now Trixie and Gingersnap are here.”

  “Oh, is this where she’s staying?” asked Holmes.

  I shot him a nasty look. I recognized the feigned surprise in his tone. I bet he knew perfectly well where Blanche was staying. It wasn’t a coincidence that we were walking by. “Oh, please! Like you didn’t know?”

  Randolph Hall was worthy of a supermodel, but it seemed a bit gaudy to me. What had Savannah said? Too many columns across the front? The architect had gone overboard. I read once that the definition of elegance was “just enough, but not more.” Too bad the person who built the house hadn’t learned that. Multiple columns in two different sizes were a bit much.

  In the center of the house, four columns soared to the top of the second floor, holding up a roof, a portico of sorts. I mused that without that massive structure, the house would look very much like a large white farmhouse. On each side of the portico, the front porch bowed outward in large curves held up by more columns, and on each side of those curves, the porch continued, then extended back along the sides of the house. The front door was painted black.

  “It’s massive,” I said.

  Lillian leaned toward us. “She’s very nice.”

  “She must have rented the house from Norm,” I mused. It made sense that she would have contacted her ex-husband about a place to stay.

  “Norm!” Lillian shook her head. “That’s a sad business. Imagine freezing to death on a bench.”

  Lillian hadn’t lived in Wagtail very long so she might not have clashed with Norm yet. On the other hand, she was an attractive and well-to-do widow, who surely hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

  “Did you know Norm well?” I asked.

  A slight smile wavered on her lips. “No. He was always after me to invest in his harebrained business ideas. I told him I sank every penny I had into the store. I lived in Washington, DC, too long not to recognize a blowhard full of hot air.”

  She smiled at GloryB, who appeared to listen to Lillian instead of sniffing around like Gingersnap and Trixie. “I know one doggy who won’t miss Norm. GloryB is nice or at least polite to everyone, except Norm. You always growled at him, didn’t you, sweetie? Wouldn’t you love to know what they’re thinking? Dogs are so perceptive about people.”

  I gazed at GloryB’s innocent face. What had she picked up on about Norm?

  “He paid Blanche a visit after the meeting about Murder Most Howl. I
left the inn right behind him. I couldn’t figure out where he was going, and without power, it was very dark on this end of town. But it was definitely him. I think he had to get up his nerve to knock on the door. He waited outside for a bit before he was ready to go in.”

  Lillian clasped a hand over her mouth. “I sound like an old Wagtailite, gossiping about the neighbors! Actually, it was GloryB who sat by the window and growled. I wouldn’t have looked out otherwise. I’m glad I ran into you, Holly. Thanks for helping out with Murder Most Howl. We’ve been swamped today. Our first great sales day since the holidays!”

  “I’m relieved to hear that. We’ve had a few glitches, so it’s good to know that part of it is working out.”

  “The visitors have been just great. I’ve been asked a lot of questions about the Baron von Rottweiler. I was his mistress. I knew his deepest darkest secret.”

  “Which was?” prompted Holmes.

  Lillian threw her head back and laughed. “Now, honey, I can’t give that away. But the oddest thing happened. Two women came into the store and asked about Norm. They were pumping me for information on him as though he was the victim in the game.”

  “Did one of them bring her apricot poodle?” I asked.

  “Weegie! She came by and bought a whole wardrobe for her dog, Puddin’. But the one doing most of the asking about Norm was petite. She had a short haircut. Gray with dark streaks, not much humor. Her pudgy friend was a hoot, though. Darling with dimples that showed when she laughed.”

  “Sounds like Myrtle and Sylvie. Maybe I should have a little talk with them.”

  “I’d better get going. At least the shop didn’t lose power last night. What a storm! GloryB is always so well behaved but even she got up and barked at the howling wind.”

  We said good-bye, and she walked toward her house with GloryB scampering ahead of her.

  “Well,” I said to Holmes, “are you satisfied or are we going to wait here all day in the hope you’ll get a glimpse of Blanche?”

  He nudged me with his elbow in a kidding way. The dogs trudged on and so did we. They no longer sprang through the snow or raced ahead of us, though. They were ready for a long snooze by the fire. I wouldn’t have minded that myself.

 

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