Mission Impawsible

by Krista Davis

  The rescue squad arrived in no time. We led the way to Dave and the man.

  Dave appeared relieved to hand over the job of CPR to them. He was breathing heavily when he asked if I knew the guy.

  One of the rescue team members handed Dave a sheet of paper. “I can’t find a wallet, but this was tucked in his pocket.”

  Dave unfolded it with me looking on.

  “Oh no,” he groaned. “He’s a friend of your grandmother’s. Do you recognize him?”

  “No way. He’s not a friend of Oma’s.” I lowered my voice. “He was quite obnoxious to the two of us earlier today.”

  “So you do know him?”

  “No. We had an impromptu conversation on the plaza. He was a stranger. I would be surprised if Oma knew him because she was outraged by what he said to us. If she knew him, I think she would have let him have it.”

  Dave’s eyebrows took a quick dive.

  Why had I said that? I certainly didn’t want him thinking Oma would have hurt the man. “Verbally, of course. It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t mean to imply that. He was just a pill.”

  Dave held out the letter so I could see it. I raised my lantern. It was written by Oma, all right, to one Gustav Vogel! “I can’t believe this. He had a reservation at the inn, but he didn’t show up. We were waiting for him, but he never checked in.”

  Dave groaned. “You’re not making sense. You were expecting him, and you talked to him. So you did know him.”

  “No, we didn’t. I’m sure Oma didn’t know who he was. We were expecting a Gustav Vogel because he had a reservation, but we didn’t know this guy was Gustav Vogel.”

  I looked at the letter more closely. It was personal, not businesslike. “Aha! Oma didn’t know him after all. And this proves it.” I pointed at the letter. “It says, ‘I look forward to meeting you.’”

  “She knew him well enough to invite him to stay at the inn,” Dave pointed out.

  “But not well enough to know him when she saw him today,” I insisted.

  “Hey, Dave.” One of the rescue squad members approached us. “I’ve called for the medical examiner.”

  “Does that mean he’s dead?” John asked.

  “Only the medical examiner can determine that,” said Dave.

  That might have been the appropriate official response, but I knew better. “John, they call the medical examiner to declare someone dead. If he were alive, they would be loading him up to take him to the hospital.”

  “Did you two see anyone out here?” asked Dave.

  John shook his head. “Trixie found the guy. We didn’t run into anyone. It was silent and peaceful. We didn’t even pass anyone on our way into the Shire.”

  Dave pulled John aside. I could hear him asking John’s name, address, and what had brought him to Wagtail.

  When he finished, Dave said, “Holly, you and John get the dogs out of here. I’ll be in touch.”

  Gingersnap came immediately when called, but Trixie seemed reluctant to leave. Only the sound of the other dogs munching on treats tore her away.

  “Still want that drink?” John asked. “Or would you rather call it a night?”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I had better break the news to Oma. Dave will probably be paying her a visit as soon as he’s done here.”

  “Of course. I understand entirely.”

  We headed back somberly.

  “Are you all right?” I asked John.

  “I’m okay. A little shaken. I’ve never discovered a dead person before. Even when you don’t know the person, it’s pretty unnerving. That guy probably came here hoping to find a relationship and never dreamed this would be his last day. He was probably planning for his future.” John gazed at me in alarm. “Do you think his dog is lost? What if there’s a cat waiting for him somewhere?”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about that. Given what he said to Oma and me on the plaza this afternoon, he doesn’t have a cat or a dog.”

  John lowered his voice. “And making matters worse, he was murdered. I’ll never forget what his throat looked like.”

  “That was fairly obvious. I didn’t see a rope or anything lying around, did you?”

  “No. But I was in such a fog that I wasn’t concentrating on that. Besides, we might not have noticed it in the dark. It could have been just a few feet away, and we wouldn’t have seen it.”

  “Dave will probably get some guys out there with lights.” I looked up at the moon. “I guess they’ll rope it off and check it again in daylight, too.”

  We paused at the road between the Shire and Wagtail to return our lanterns. Crickets chirped in the night. Not a car or golf cart rumbled along the road. We crossed into historic Wagtail.

  John sighed. “As cool as the Shire is, I have to say that I’m relieved to be back in the land of streetlights. I never realized how important and comforting they are.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I rented a house in Wagtail a few weeks ago because I’ve been working on a book and this seemed like a nice quiet place to concentrate.”

  “Fiction or nonfiction?”

  “A historical thriller.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “If only it would pay the bills. I used to be a history professor. These days, I write and edit history textbooks. It’s okay but a little boring.”

  “I don’t recall seeing you around,” I said.

  “I haven’t gotten out much. Not knowing anyone has actually been a big plus. I stay home and work most of the time. Sometimes Cooper and I hit the hiking trails for walks. But when I heard about Animal Attraction, I liked the idea of letting Cooper introduce me to someone. Dogs are supposed to be great judges of character.”

  “I would be flattered by that, but I find a lot of dogs like me because I usually carry treats in my pocket.”

  “You see? Only a person with a good heart would do that. But my olfactory skills aren’t sufficiently advanced to detect dog treats in a person’s pocket, so I have to rely on Cooper.”

  For the first time since we had discovered Gustav’s body, I smiled.

  “This might be out of line, and I hope you’ll say so if it is, but would you mind if I went with you?” asked John.

  “To tell Oma?”

  “Yeah. It’s not very macho of me, but right now I’d rather not be alone.”

  “No problem. I know exactly how you feel. Sitting alone someplace is the last thing I would want to do at this moment. Come on, there’s always plenty of company at the inn.”

  We walked along the sidewalk that ran the length of the green in the middle of town. Business from the cafés and restaurants spilled onto the sidewalk. Despite the late hour, even some of the bakeries had stayed open. It looked like they were selling coffee and pastries to go.

  Oma and Rose’s idea appeared to have turned into a business boom for Wagtail.

  The porch of the inn buzzed with activity as well. We breezed past the couples getting to know each other, but Nessie saw us enter the inn and made a beeline for me.

  “Holly! Holly!” Nessie bustled toward me with Lulu at her heels. “Have you seen Sky? I can’t find her anywhere.”

  Seven

  I was slightly amused that the woman who hadn’t wanted to room with Sky was now looking for her as though they were good friends. I introduced John to Nessie. “I’m sorry, but we haven’t seen Sky.”

  “Honestly! Where did she get off to? My daughter has spent the evening with some guy. He’s too good-looking, if you ask me. You know what they say about a book and its cover. I once married a guy pretty enough to be on the cover of a romance novel, but the inside was a horror story.”

  She eyed me. “Maybe you two could go sit near them and tell me what’s going on since Sky isn’t available?”

  “I wish I cou
ld help,” I fibbed. I really did not want to spy on her daughter. “But I’m busy at the moment. We’re looking for Oma. There’s something important we have to tell her.”

  Nessie’s eyebrows jumped. “An engagement?” She looked from me to John and back to me. “You sure make a pretty couple, but . . . already? You must have known each other before.”

  Before I could protest, John winked at me.

  “Nope. Cooper introduced us.” John pointed at his dog.

  “You’re kidding me.” She gazed down at Lulu. “Can you find Mommy a nice man, sugar?”

  Just to be sure she understood, I said, “There’s no engagement, but Cooper and Trixie like each other.”

  Gingersnap and Trixie had sniffed their way to the pet hatch located in the door that led to Oma’s private kitchen. I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew where Oma was.

  Excusing ourselves, we hustled away.

  “Her poor daughter,” John whispered. “My mom set me up with a date once, but she never spied on me.”

  “Did the date work out?”

  “We went out for about six months before I had the guts to break up with her.”

  I swung open the door to the large room that Oma had reserved for family use. “So it wasn’t just one dinner. Your mom did pretty well.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “She was nice enough. But ultimately, I knew she wasn’t the right person for me.”

  I could relate. “Sounds like Ben and me.”

  Not a soul was in the kitchen. But I spied a corkscrew on the turquoise island. “I bet Oma is outside. It’s a beautiful night.”

  I opened the back door. Oma and Macon sat at a table on the private patio overlooking Dogwood Lake. Lights on boats bobbed in the distance and the sounds of laugher drifted to us. The scents of basil and rosemary wafted from Oma’s herb garden. Candles flickered on the table near a wine bottle and two glasses.

  I hadn’t expected Macon to be with Oma and wondered if I should mention Gustav in front of him. He would hear about it sooner or later, though, so maybe it was just as well that he was present.

  I introduced John to Oma and Macon.

  “Weren’t you two matched up through Live Love Bark?” Macon raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I thought that didn’t work out.”

  “You were matched by Macon? Ja?” Oma’s voice brimmed with joy.

  “Don’t get excited. Trixie likes John’s dog, Cooper,” I said as we joined them at the table.

  “Gee, thanks. What about me?” John teased. “All things considered, I think we’ve been getting along pretty well.”

  I guessed we had been. Not many people got to know each other by finding a corpse. “Oma, I’m afraid I have bad news. Gustav Vogel has been found.”

  “Found? What do you mean found? Did he have a car accident?” asked Oma.

  “He was murdered!” John exclaimed. “It was awful.”

  “Who is Gustav Vogel?” asked Macon. “A friend of yours?”

  I glanced at Oma, who appeared to be stunned by the news. “He had a reservation but never showed up.”

  My Oma was a strong woman. She had run the inn by herself for decades. But the news about Gustav clearly shocked her. She sank back in her chair like she had been deflated.

  I reached for her hand and clutched it. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No, it cannot be. This is terrible. What happened?”

  “Strangled.” John uttered the single word and shuddered. “I’ve never found a dead body before. It’s—”

  “Unnerving?” Macon suggested.

  “Unnerving doesn’t begin to cover it,” John said. “Unnerving times one thousand. I don’t know how the police and the paramedics do it. They must have nerves like steel. I didn’t even know the guy, but to be honest with you, I’m rattled to my core.”

  “You found him?” asked Macon in a high pitch.

  “Trixie did,” I said. At the mention of her name, she and Gingersnap came running and sat properly, looking at me expectantly. I fed an itsy-bitsy treat to each of the dogs.

  Oma clasped a hand to her cheek. “I am shocked. You called Dave, ja?”

  “Yes, of course.” I excused myself and fetched two wineglasses and another bottle of wine. Back at the table, I said, “Oma, do you remember the man on the plaza today? The one who said dogs can’t love people because they have brains the size of walnuts, and that cat owners are neurotic?”

  “Ugh. That man. I wish I could forget him.”

  “Oma, that was Gustav Vogel.” I handed John a glass of wine.

  She frowned at me. “No. That is impossible.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Macon sputtered, “Well, no wonder somebody killed him. What kind of idiot goes around sayin’ stuff like that? Do they have a suspect yet?”

  As Macon spoke, it dawned on me that Gustav had called Macon an old fraud. “Did you know him, Macon?”

  “I seriously doubt it. I believe I’d have remembered someone with such a distinctive name. Not to mention someone with ridiculous notions about dogs and cats.”

  If Macon did a lot of matchmaking for large groups, it was certainly possible that the singles who expected to be matched would remember Macon, but he might not remember all of them. Could Macon have made a poor match for Gustav that prompted his remark?

  It would be rude to come right out and say he thought you were a fraud, so I chose my words carefully. “He seemed to know you.”

  “Really? How very flatterin’. People all over the world have heard of me.”

  While I suspected that was a vast exaggeration, there probably was some truth to what he said.

  Oma gripped the edge of the table and rose to her feet. “I hope you will excuse me.”

  She walked slowly to the door and entered the kitchen with Gingersnap on her heels while Macon said, “Of course, darlin’.”

  “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I handed Huey’s leash to John and followed Oma.

  Closing the door behind me, I called out, “Oma?”

  She paused and looked back at me.

  “There’s something else you should know. Maybe you should sit down?”

  “Ach. It cannot be any worse.” But she perched on the edge of one of the chairs before the fireplace.

  “Gustav had a letter from you in his pocket.”

  She took that news very well. “This is not surprising. It probably contained directions to the inn.”

  “Oma, did you know Gustav?”

  She took a deep breath. “No. I never met him.”

  “Except today on the plaza, when we spoke to him,” I corrected.

  “But I did not know that was Gustav at the time.”

  “Dave will probably be here tonight to ask you if you knew him.”

  “I will be in my apartment.” Oma rose and walked slowly again, as though the bad news had sapped her strength.

  Gingersnap sprang to her feet and walked beside her, anxiously looking up at Oma.

  It wasn’t like Oma at all. I was sorry Gustav had died, too. And it was horrifying that someone had strangled him. But the news had drained Oma’s spirit. I watched her go, wondering if she was telling me the truth.

  She stopped at the doorway, turned back to me, and said, “Something is not right.”

  Eight

  “Do you know something about Gustav’s murder?” I asked Oma.

  She paused before answering me, which concerned me even more. Was she searching for a plausible response? “I know nothing about it. But this is very, very wrong. I go to my room for a rest now.”

  Gingersnap accompanied Oma when she left the kitchen.

  I had been dismissed. It was late, so not particularly surprising that she would be tired. Still, I was itching to know what she was talking about. Something was very wron
g every time a person was murdered. I feared Oma knew more and hoped that Dave would be able to coax it out of her.

  Reluctantly, I let her be. Oma was very special to me. She had been a source of security for me when my parents divorced. Every summer they had shipped me to Oma in Wagtail. Along with my cousin, and Holmes Richardson, the son of Oma’s best friend, I had worked at the inn. None of us realized it then, but we had learned the business from the ground up. Still, Oma always made sure there was plenty of playtime for us, too. We had hiked and played Star Wars in the woods, gone swimming and boating, and Oma had carved out special time to spend with each of us.

  People kept telling me how much alike we were. That was probably true. In any event, I knew better than to pester her. She would tell me when she was good and ready.

  One of the marvelous things about Oma’s private kitchen was the refrigerator. Holmes called it magical because it always contained fabulous food and was never empty. A good portion of the inn’s daily leftovers landed in that fridge. The rest were delivered to the less fortunate who lived around Wagtail.

  I hit the magical fridge now to scrounge up a snack for our guests. Leftovers from the popular cheese and fruit lunch option had already been nicely arranged on a large platter. Grapes, raspberries, local blackberries, and strawberries surrounded a creamy herbed goat cheese from a farm near Wagtail, a smooth orange Gouda, and a pepper-encrusted Brie. I located a crusty loaf of bread and sliced it on a diagonal. It was perfect for the cheese.

  The dogs probably needed a little munch, too. The inn’s chef cooked specialties daily for dogs and cats. I skipped the full dinners in the fridge because they had already eaten, but found apple barkscotti—twice-baked biscuits that would be good for their teeth.

  I loaded everything on the tray and carried it out to the table, where Macon and John were engaged in conversation.