Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery (17 page)

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.”

Dave relaxed in his seat, still wiping off coffee spots. “Holly, I appreciate your help. More than I can tell you, actually. But this isn’t a game. This is my job. There are laws about what I can reveal.”

I felt more than a little bit ashamed. “Yesterday morning I overheard Savannah talking on her cell phone. I can’t recall exactly what she said, but she mentioned that Blanche was in town and that she was going to do something this weekend. She was crying, Dave. And I’m pretty sure she said ‘the sooner the better.’”

Dave let out a low guttural groan. He winced.

I didn’t know, and now I didn’t dare ask, what he found out about the footprints behind Savannah’s house. I had a feeling he was sorry that my information put her in a bad light. I was trying to figure out how to weasel the information out of him, when his phone beeped at him. Maybe I should ask him about Shadow’s criminal record first.

He rose from his chair with the phone still at his ear and quickly left money on the table. When he hung up, he said, “Sorry, gotta go. What is it about signs that say
Road Closed
that people don’t understand? Including your boyfriend, by the way. Blanche will have to wait.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I pointed out.

“Really? Then why does he keep coming here?”

That was a good question. It worried me. I thought I had made it clear that we were through. But at the moment, I had more urgent things on my mind.

We left at the same time as Weegie, Myrtle, and Sylvie. I found myself walking back to the inn with the three ladies.

“Tell us what you know about the Baron von Rottweiler,” Myrtle demanded.

I laughed. “I think you know much more about him than I do.”

“Come on,” prodded Weegie. “Myrtle won’t give up until you tell us.”

“Let’s see. He aggravated a lot of his business partners. Apparently he had several children, but I haven’t met any of them yet.”

“I’m one!” Myrtle sang with pride. “Illegitimate, of course.”

“Of course. He left his first wife for a younger woman. And I believe the first wife was destitute and had to live in her car or some such.”

Weegie gasped and stopped walking. “Just like Blanche!”

Seventeen

It was my turn to be surprised. “Blanche?”

Weegie nodded her head. “Blanche Wimmer was a mess after her divorce. She had to sleep in her car until she could make enough money to get back on her feet.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Weegie blushed. “Don’t you read gossip magazines?”

Myrtle’s mouth dropped open. “I most certainly do not!”

“Well, everyone else does. You’re just a stick in the mud.” Weegie strode ahead with Puddin’.

Myrtle and Sylvie complained about Weegie all the way back to the inn. But I had other things on my mind.

As soon as I helped Trixie out of her coat, I hustled over to Holmes, who was eating breakfast with Ben.

“Where’s the list of clues?”

“Hi. Nice to see you, too.”

“C’mon where’s the list?”

He handed me a sheet of paper. “What’s up?”

I sat down in the chair next to him and scanned the clues.
“I don’t know. The good baron is beginning to sound an awful lot like Norm Wilson.”

Holmes snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Really? Listen to this.” I read them aloud.

The Baron von Rottweiler left his first wife for a younger woman.

The Baron von Rottweiler left his first wife so destitute that she had to live in her car.

Holmes elbowed me. “C’mon, Holly. You’re not that naive. A lot of men leave their wives for younger women.”

“Do a lot of exceedingly successful women have to live in their cars when they divorce? That’s what happened to Blanche.”

“It doesn’t say the baron’s wife was successful. And what about this one?” He pointed at a clue.

The Baron von Rottweiler poisoned his second wife.

“Obviously that one didn’t happen. Savannah’s alive and well.”

“Maybe you’re right. I just never heard of anyone having to live in her car after divorce. Well, not when she was making buckets full of money. Talk about a motive for murder. He must have run off with every penny she made.”