by Krista Davis
Twenty-nine
I sat down and lowered myself one step on the icy concrete stairs. It was definitely a body. It lay facedown, so I couldn’t make out who it was. But it was a good bet it was our missing Myrtle. My heart pounding, I eased back up to the top, my gloves slipping on the slick railing.
I pulled my cell phone out of a pocket. Wagtail was known for dead spots and poor cell phone connections. I hoped I would be able to make a connection. I almost cheered when I heard the sound that meant Dave’s phone was ringing.
“Did you find her?” he was breathless.
“I think so.”
“Where?”
I held up my lantern. “The side yard of a little white house on Redbud.”
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. I think we need an ambulance.”
The line went dead. What would happen if she needed medical care? I wondered if I should wait in the street to guide him, or if I should see if I could help Myrtle. The latter won. If she was alive, helping or comforting her was the least I could do.
I returned to the stairs and sat down on the top one as I had before. I lowered my feet, then my bottom one step at a time. I sat next to her boots. Then by her side. It seemed an eternity passed before I was firmly on the bottom. Trixie was licking Myrtle’s face.
“Myrtle?” No response. “Myrtle?” I said louder.
She didn’t move. I slid off my glove and touched her shoulder. “Can you hear me?” I shouted.
She still didn’t move.
She wore gloves but no hat. The wind whistled above us.
I took off my hat and slid it onto her head. I knew better than to turn her over. If she had broken her neck or back in the fall, moving her could result in paralysis. If she was alive at all.
Relief flooded through me when I heard Dave’s voice yelling my name. “Back here!”
The strong beam of a flashlight blinded me briefly. I raised my hand to shield my eyes.
Dave took care coming down the steps. “The ski patrol from Snowball is coming.”
“How?”
“Snowmobile.” He said it as though it happened every day.
“Do you think she’s alive?”
“Can’t tell. All we can do at this point is wait. They’ll have to stabilize her on a stretcher before they can pull her out of here.” He flicked the beam of the flashlight at the steps and upward.
“Whose house is this? What would she have been doing here?”
“It’s a summer home. The owners live in Florida during the winter.”
He hadn’t answered my second question. I figured he couldn’t know what Myrtle had been up to either.
“Treacherous,” was all he said.
I followed the light. It was evident even to my untrained eyes that she had fallen from the top and slid down the snowy stairs. “The displaced snow along her right side is from me, trying to get down here without slipping.”
I heard him sigh.
“Wait, I thought I saw something. Go back.”
Dave retraced the route the light had taken.
“There! What is that?”
Hidden halfway under Myrtle, something gleamed in the light. Dave pulled it out.
“The gun from Murder Most Howl!” I felt slightly sick. “What kind of demented person would go around killing people and leaving the fake murder weapons near their bodies?”
“Let’s hope she’s not dead.” Dave walked up the steps. The beam of the flashlight danced along the snow. Gingersnap accompanied him. “You and your dogs made a fine mess of the tracks but I think someone else was with her.”
From the clicking sound I heard, I guessed he was trying to take some photos. I didn’t think he would have much success.
It wasn’t a moment too soon, though. People began to cluster at the top of the stairs. Holmes made his way down to me.
“Is she alive?”
“Don’t know.”
An emergency medical technician pushed his way through and joined us at the bottom of the stairs. “Did you move her?”
“No.”
“Good. Thanks. Hop on out of here so we can work, okay?”
I climbed up the way I came down, backward on my bottom, one step at a time. Trixie had no such problems. With her four-paw drive, she raced past me. Holmes walked up like a normal human, putting me to shame for being overly careful.
I waited with Ben and Holmes while the rescue squad fastened Myrtle to a board and flipped her. Shivering in the cold, I realized that my fingers were going slightly numb. We had to get the dogs back. They didn’t have shoes to keep their paws warm.
The EMTs brought her up out of the stairwell. “We have a heartbeat. Faint, but it’s there.”
With that good news, I asked Dave to keep me posted and hurried back to the inn as fast as I dared to go. Ben and Holmes remained behind.
Gingersnap limped up the stairs to the inn, which worried me. As soon as we walked through the door, I dropped to my knees and reached for a front paw to massage it. I scooted the lantern closer. No wonder she was limping. Hard balls of ice were stuck to the fur between her toes.
I helped her remove them, leaving a watery mess on the floor. I needn’t have worried, though. Just like magic, Mr. Huckle appeared with a mop.
With both dogs walking normally, I shed my jacket and hurried to the fireplace to warm up.
“We heard they found her?” asked Char. She sat with Robin and members of The Thursday Night Cloak and Dagger Club. Ella Mae pranced around from person to person.
Even in the firelight I could see the worry on their faces.
“Gingersnap did. Myrtle is still alive.”
“Woohoo!” Cries of joy resounded through the Dogwood Room. “Where is she?” They gazed around as if they expected Myrtle to walk in at any moment.
“They’re taking her to the hospital. I don’t know much about her condition. She fell down concrete stairs, facedown. I think she was unconscious. At least, she didn’t respond to me.” I could see their initial excitement waning. “I don’t want to upset you, but it didn’t look good.”
Holmes, Ben, and Geof joined us, along with other members of the book club who had been out searching. I moved away from the fire to give them a chance to warm up.
Mr. Huckle and Aunt Birdie had been busy in the kitchen. Mr. Huckle rolled in a cart with hot chocolate and homemade pizza, fresh from the oven. They didn’t really go together but anything warm and comforting was welcome.
Those who had been outdoors pounced on the hot food. Geof offered Char a slice but she declined.
“Is this dog pizza?” I asked, just to be sure before giving some to Gingersnap and Trixie.
Mr. Huckle nodded. “Indeed. Cook had it clearly marked in the freezer.”
I checked it out. It looked like thin pizza dough, sprinkled with hamburger and cheese.
Ben picked up a slice. “This looks more my style. Can people eat it?”
Mr. Huckle assured him that it was perfectly safe for human consumption but he might find it a little bit bland.
After Ben had eaten half of a piece, I couldn’t help teasing him. “Aren’t you worried that you might get the urge to bark?”
“I don’t understand this,” said Weegie. “One minute Myrtle was driving us batty at dinner and the next moment, she disappeared.”
Another member said, “I guess we were so eager to get away from her that none of us noticed. I feel terrible. We should have been better friends.”
“What was she doing at dinner?” I bit into another piece of mushroom and olive white pizza.
“She was always complaining about something. Anyone remember?”
“I think her wineglass wasn’t clean enough.”
“She thought the prices were too high and the menu too exotic—” the speaker looked toward Geof and Char “—I’m sorry, but she also groused about you and your brother, claiming the game was stacked for you to win.”
Geof sputtered, “That’
s just not true. I know she’s your friend but—”
Char deftly slid her hand onto his knee and squeezed. He stopped midsentence.
One of the club members spoke softly. “She said something about that man who died. Not the baron, the real man. I just humored her. I wish I had paid attention.”
I wished she had, too. I couldn’t imagine what would have possessed her to go to that house.
The front door burst open, and Dave walked in. He left his boots and outerwear at the door and strode to the fire. He must have been freezing.
“Do any of you have next of kin information on Myrtle?” he asked.
A couple of them gasped.
“Doesn’t mean anything. We just need to notify her family, that’s all.”
The members gazed at each other.
“She’s divorced.”
“Her children live in China.”
“That’s not Myrtle, that’s Sylvie.”
“Does Myrtle have children?”
“Doesn’t she have a sister?”
“Yes. And a nephew whom she dislikes.”
“I think she might not get along with the sister, either.”
Suddenly, I was sad for Myrtle. Had she alienated everyone?
Dave raised his eyebrows at me. I knew just what he meant. It should be a lesson to us all.
The tragic conversation continued, naming people with whom Myrtle no longer spoke. A scream brought it to an abrupt halt.
Thirty
Sylvie screamed a second time and jumped toward me.
“What is it?”
The light from the fire wasn’t the best but I couldn’t see anything wrong.
Dave flicked on his flashlight. The beam landed like a spotlight on a mouse. A tiny little nervous mouse sat next to a pair of shoes. And right beside the mouse was none other than Leo, once again looking thoroughly perplexed about the commotion.
“It’s that cat again! With another mouse!” Sylvie backed toward the fire and climbed on a chair. “It ran over my foot! Why do you have mice in this inn? It’s revolting. You really need an exterminator. Where is it? Where is it?”
I didn’t bother explaining that Leo had probably brought the mouse inside. Who knew where he was getting them? Leo’s fascination with Sylvie was a mystery to me as well. But I knew what was going to happen if I didn’t catch the mouse very, very fast. I looked around for something to throw over it, like a bowl or a box.
It was too late.
Twinkletoes saw the mouse. She pounced. The mouse ran. Twinkletoes leaped after him. The two cats on leashes bounded after her. Ella Mae couldn’t resist the chase, and in two seconds, Puddin’, Trixie, and Gingersnap were in on the fun. Like a ridiculous conga line, they raced through the inn. I didn’t think it would end well for the poor little mouse.
Oddly enough, Leo stayed behind. When I helped Sylvie off the chair, Leo rubbed his face against her legs. “I think there’s something wrong with this cat. What’s he doing now? Is he going to bite me?”
“Sylvie, you dope,” said Weegie. “He’s being affectionate. That’s what cats do.”
“The only other cat I have known did the same awful thing to me. Do I look hungry? Do I appear to need a mouse?”
That cracked her friends up. I was glad to see a little release of tension.
Dave motioned for me to follow him to the door. He jammed his feet into his boots and grabbed his jacket. “That Myrtle must be a real class act. Sounds like she doesn’t like anything or anyone. I didn’t want to say this in front of her friends but you need to know.”
Thirty-one
“Someone must have slammed Myrtle in the back of the head with a board or something. There’s blood in her hair. It was hard to see in the dark. I don’t know why it’s not on her hat.”
“That was my hat. I was trying to keep her warm. Do you think the blow to the head knocked her out? That would explain why she couldn’t get up after she fell.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty good guess.”
“Dave, she was trying to solve Norm’s murder.”
His head swiveled toward me. “That opens up all kinds of new possibilities, doesn’t it? I figured one of her friends did it since no one in town really knew her. But that changes everything. Listen, if anything the slightest bit weird happens here tonight, I want you to call me. Anything. Got it?”
I hoped everyone would go to bed and sleep.
By the time I returned to the Dogwood Room, it had nearly emptied out. I could hear book club members swapping books to read upstairs, and Char calling Emma Mae. I wondered what had happened to the poor little mouse and cringed at the thought.
The two cats on leashes had been caught and were being marched back to their rooms in the cat wing of the inn.
I sent Mr. Huckle and Aunt Birdie up to bed and put Ben and Holmes to work helping me tidy up by the light of three lanterns.
We were in Oma’s kitchen when Ben said, “I keep thinking you must have a dreary little life here. No Starbucks. No museums. No Apple store. But every time I come up here, there’s something wild going on.”
“Trust me, Ben. There’s not a murder every weekend.”
“I don’t mean the murders. I felt sorry for you when you moved here but it’s pretty cool. It’s not nearly as boring as I expected, that’s all.”
“Is that why you came to visit?”
He shrugged. “DC isn’t the same without you, Holly. Hey, we should text more!”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Same old Ben. Maybe it was good that some things never changed and there was consistency in the world. In a way, it made me more comfortable having him around. I had made up my mind about Ben when I broke off our relationship. If he wanted to be friends, that was fine with me.
He walked through the inn with me to make sure everything was locked up, chatting about Norm’s murder the whole way. Casey arrived for the night shift just when we finished.
“I don’t want to scare you, Casey, but one of our guests was assaulted in Wagtail tonight. Officer Dave wants to be notified if anything strange happens. Wake me no matter how unimportant it might seem. Okay?”
“You think we’re in danger? Is a madman going to try to break into the inn?”
“I think you’ve been watching too much TV. But keep me posted.” I felt a little guilty leaving him there by himself with only lanterns and the fire for light, but we would be right upstairs if he needed us.
Holmes, Ben, and I trudged up the stairs. I spotted Leo on the second landing, handed my lantern to Holmes, and scooped Leo into my arms. “You have caused enough mischief. You’re sleeping over as Twinkletoes’s guest tonight, and I want you to be on your very best behavior.” He had the nerve to purr.
I didn’t need to call the dogs. They looked every bit as tired as I was. Twinkletoes waited for us at the door.
Holmes and Ben said good night and vanished into the guest bedroom. I locked the door to the apartment and quickly closed the pet door so Leo would not go on a mouse hunt in the middle of the night. I made a quick call to Zelda so she wouldn’t worry about him, and then I fell into the rollaway bed laughing at myself for ever having imagined a romantic evening with Holmes. It just wasn’t in my destiny.
I had put Ben’s rollaway bed in the guest room with Holmes. Aunt Birdie was in my bedroom, and I was sleeping on a rollaway bed in my living room. I figured I was the one most likely to have to get up in the middle of the night if a problem arose and there was no point in waking Aunt Birdie by sleeping in the bedroom.
Only I was too tired and agitated to sleep.
I hadn’t had many sleepless nights since I moved to Wagtail. But this was one of them. Twinkletoes curled up with me on the bed, but it was far narrower than my regular bed, so she decided to sleep on top of me. I loved my little puss, but she wasn’t helping me sleep by rising and falling with my chest each time I took a breath.
Gingersnap and Trixie had staked out cushy spots on the sofa and a big club
chair. Even Leo had finally conked out. He nestled on the end of the bed by my feet. Everyone appeared to be fast asleep except for me.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw poor Myrtle sprawled on those cold concrete stairs. Why would she have gone there? Someone must have lured her. Someone she trusted. Did that mean she knew the killer? Or was the attack on her motivated by someone she had irritated beyond their breaking point? Maybe it had nothing to do with Norm at all.
At least I was fairly sure Shadow wouldn’t be blamed for what happened to Myrtle. Not unless she caught him red-handed at something illegal. Was he conning me? Was I a big sap for wanting to believe him?
I tried to focus. What did we know for sure? Two people had confirmed that Norm had been lurking outside Randolph Hall the morning of his death. That alone shouldn’t have led to his murder but it had upset two women who wanted to be rid of him, Blanche and Savannah. And one had to consider that the men who loved them might have taken action to protect them. So that put Ian and Shadow on the list of people with motives. All of them had opportunity. Killing someone with an insulin injection didn’t require brute strength. In fact, it was the kind of murder someone small and bookish, like Ian, might conceive.
We also knew that Norm attended the Murder Most Howl meeting at the inn that night. And that he returned to Randolph Hall instead of going home. To confront Blanche? Did he think he would find Savannah there? Was he taking advantage of the fact that the lights were out in that part of town? Whatever his intentions, he hung around outside before entering. Getting up nerve? Waiting for something to happen? Blanche had been quite forthcoming, maybe she would tell me. On the other hand, if she, with her husband or Savannah for that matter, had killed him, she wouldn’t be so open. She might even pretend she didn’t know he was there.
Which led me to another thought. Had Myrtle gone ahead and paid Savannah a visit? What if Savannah was the killer? That might have prompted her to lure Myrtle to those basement stairs and take a swing at her. Was that beautiful young woman taking advantage of Shadow? Had she used him to get rid of Norm? Or could she be setting him up to take the blame? Visions of Savannah living a life of leisure while Shadow wasted away in prison for a murder she committed shook me to the core. Maybe he was an innocent rube or so infatuated that she could manipulate him.
