The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) (5 page)

She saw me coming. I sighed with relief when she dropped the branch and sniffed the ground. I grabbed the limb and tossed it onto the fire.

A moment later, she picked up something else that I couldn’t quite make out. “Drop, Trixie.”

She danced just out of my reach. Happily a scent must have interested her, and she dropped what she held in her mouth. Trixie’s nose took her in a circle around the bonfire. I followed her as fast as I could without running, trying to be calm, so she wouldn’t sense my desperation to catch her. Just as I bent over and reached for her, she took off, her nose still to the ground. Ugh. Undoubtedly on the scent of an evil squirrel.

I didn’t dare leave the fire, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to lose sight of my two rascals, either. Trixie was getting farther away. She zoomed by the Wagtail Springs Hotel. In the night with no one else around, it looked unbelievably spooky. No wonder people thought they saw ghosts in the eerie windows.

Frantic barking started. It had to be Trixie. I listened carefully for a clue to her whereabouts.

I jogged a few steps. “Trixie? Trixie?”

The furious barking continued. Where was Dave?

Like magic, he strode up, dressed in his uniform—an oasis of calm in the night. I waved at him and ran after Trixie. I would explain as soon as I had Trixie and Twinkletoes safely in my arms.

The light from the street lamps didn’t stretch far as I rounded the hotel. I slowed down, stepping through the grass carefully while my eyes adjusted to the darkness away from the fire. Without the light of the moon, the expansive lawn in back of the hotel would have been treacherous. The huge gazebo shimmered faintly. The barking grew louder. But where were they? I squinted and scanned the lawn for any sign of their white coats. “Twinkletoes! Where’s my pretty kitty?” I tried to sound relaxed so they would come to me.

Meep.
Twinkletoes didn’t speak much, but that sounded like her cute little mew.

Were they in the gazebo?

Twinkletoes darted out at me and swiped a paw at my leg as I neared the structure. I wasn’t quick enough to grab her.

She scampered into the gazebo.

“Trixie!” I called. “I have treats.” At this point I would have said anything to get them to come to me. But they didn’t.

Trixie hadn’t stopped barking, either.
Yap, yap, yap.

Built at ground level, the gazebo contained a mineral spring in the middle. I had played there as a child, joyfully splashing my cousin. Shallow water covered ancient stones, worn to smoothness. Simple wood stairs led from the decking into the pool.

As I approached, Trixie ran around the deck of the gazebo, yipping. I sighed. This would be an aggravating exercise in futility because she could simply scamper around in a big circle, always keeping out of reach.

She would sense my desperation. I tried to be calm and called her softly. She backed away, and backed away.

I stepped onto the decking and squinted in the darkness. Why hadn’t I brought a flashlight?

Trixie’s white coat gleamed in the moonlight. She whined at the water—and at the person floating in it, facedown.

Trixie stopped barking when I screamed.

My purse dropped to the floor. The contents clattered as they spilled onto the wooden deck.

I yelled for Dave.

There was only one thing to do and no time to think about it. I had to turn the person over. I plunged into the cold water. It came up just over my knees.

A filmy white dress floated around the body. Long silvery hair caught the glow from the light of the moon. I flipped her and dragged her to the side, but even though she was a slight woman, I couldn’t lift her out of the shallow pool. The gauzy white fabric caught on her arms and mine, wrapping us like mummies. After several tries, I managed to maneuver her shoulders up against the edge of the deck. Where was Dave? I yelled his name again.

Minutes mattered. I couldn’t allow her head to drop back into the pool. Pinning her with my shoulder to keep her from sliding down, I hoisted her legs up enough to roll her over onto the deck, dislodging the wig she wore.

Copper hair fell to the floor. Mallory! Shock flooded through me. The young woman who dreamed of her wedding didn’t appear to be breathing.

I tried to recall the first aid classes I had taken years ago. I leaned Mallory on her side so water could drain from her mouth. She needed CPR right that moment. I started it but was having no success. “Dave!”

It broke my heart to have to stop, even for a second. I rushed to the entrance. No wonder he couldn’t hear me. In the quiet of the night, the bonfire crackled loud enough to drown my cries for help. I ran toward it, waving my arms. “Dave! Dave! Help!”

When he turned toward me, I waved frantically and jogged back to the gazebo to start chest compressions again, wondering what else I could possibly do to revive her.

When I saw the beam of a strong flashlight I jumped up. “Here! We’re over here!”

Dave aimed his light at Mallory.

“Is she alive?” Dave flashed the light on her face.

“I don’t know. I found her floating facedown. I’ve been doing compressions, but there’s been no sign of . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

Dave kneeled beside her and felt for a pulse. “I’m not getting anything.” He handed me the flashlight and resumed the chest compressions. “Call 911 and have them send an ambulance.”

Twinkletoes scampered down the steps that ran into the water. She reached out, patting a dark ring on the water with her paw.

I squinted at it. A wreath of black roses. Mallory must have been dressed as the ghost of Becca Wraith. According to local legend, Becca’s ghost always wore a circle of black roses in her hair.

“Your cat’s here, too? What’s going on?”

I called 911 before answering him. Only when the dispatcher assured me that an ambulance was on the way did I hang up and explain to Dave how I came to be there. “I have no idea how Trixie and Twinkletoes managed to get out of the inn.”

My wet clothes clung to me and the night was cold, but I ran in search of the ambulance anyway. I flashed Dave’s light at them and shouted. Three amazingly calm EMTs crossed the lawn to the gazebo and peered at Mallory.

One of them checked for a pulse. “Are you a relative?” He took over the chest compressions.

“No. I just happened to find her.”

Dave stepped aside so they could work. He snagged Twinkletoes. Handing her to me, he said, “You better put on some dry clothes. I’ll come to the inn if I need more information.”

“Thanks.” I hoped they could resuscitate Mallory. Carrying Twinkletoes in my arms, I called Trixie. She came with us but dodged off to the fire again. I was far too cold and wet to play games. I called her again and again. She raced toward me carrying something in her mouth. Ugh. I hoped it hadn’t been alive at one time.

I reached for it but she ran from me each time I tried to grab it. She willingly hopped into the golf cart, though.

*   *   *

Dawn hadn’t broken yet when I returned to the inn. Safely inside, I finally released my grip on Twinkletoes. She leaped from my arms and immediately started grooming her fur, no doubt miffed that it was wet.

Trixie still carried the thing in her mouth. But indoors, I could see it clearly. I grabbed a treat from the cookie jar at the registration desk and tried to barter with Trixie. The scent of the treat must have been powerful because she finally gave in and traded me a faux fur black cat for the cookie.

I rocked back on my heels laughing. A toy. The cat’s back was arched like a Halloween cat. Some dog had probably dropped it at the bonfire. I handed it back to her.

“What happened to you?” asked Casey.

“I jumped in a mineral bath to pull Mallory Gooley out.”

“What? Is she okay?”

“I don’t think so. Is she a friend of yours?”

“No. I’ve seen her around town, though. She doesn’t live here. At least I don’t think so. You better get cleaned up. Aren’t you freezing?”

I nodded and shuffled away like I was one hundred years old.

“Hey, Holly. How’s your aunt?”

Huh? I was still so shocked about finding Mallory that I hadn’t given Birdie another thought. “She’s fine. Thanks for asking, Casey. She’s absolutely fine and dandy.”

Trixie refused to take the elevator, but I was in no condition to climb two more flights of stairs. She met me at the door to our apartment. It was locked tight.

I opened the door to find Twinkletoes resting on top of a box, cleaning her fur and looking so innocent that if I didn’t know better, I would have thought she’d been there the whole time. “The cat door.” In my haste to leave, I’d forgotten about it. I hobbled to the dining room of my quarters. Way down on a bottom shelf the cat door was open. It led down hidden stairs to Oma’s private kitchen. I wedged heavy books in front of it so there would be no more escapes for the time being.

I took a long, hot shower but it didn’t wash away the events of the night. Wrapped in a fluffy Sugar Maple Inn bathrobe, embroidered with my name, I had just stepped out of the bathroom when a muffled cry alarmed me. Someone was in my apartment!

I stumbled around the boxes in the hallway and craned my neck to see into the kitchen.

A stooped man wearing white gloves and a butler’s uniform placed a tray on the counter. He turned and his thick gray eyebrows jumped up at the sight of me. “Miss Miller! I’m so sorry to have disturbed you. I stubbed my toe on a carton. I must say, it’s a bit of a mess in here with boxes everywhere. Shall I unpack them for you?”

“No. Thank you. That won’t be necessary.” I peered at the tray. A carafe of something, sugar, cream, a dog treat, a cat treat, and a chocolate croissant. This man was definitely friend, not foe. I studied him. Why did he seem vaguely familiar? “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. You weren’t here last month, were you?”

“Niles Huckle, miss. I remember you. You played with Miss Clementine when you were just little girls. Your grandmother has hired me to help Shelley five mornings a week. Mrs. Miller likes hot coffee and exactly two, no more, no less, honey cinnamon graham crackers, and a biscuit for Gingersnap at six a.m. sharp. She ordered this for you. If you should prefer something else, please let me know. I shan’t let on if you don’t like what she sent.”

“It’s lovely, thank you.” What a luxury. This certainly beat rushing around to leave the house and then sitting in traffic to get to work.

Twinkletoes wound around his ankles, marking him with the side of her face.

“Now go on, you little scamp. You’ll get white fur all over my trousers.”

I locked the door behind him and asked Trixie, “Why didn’t you bark at him?”

She wagged her tail but wasn’t divulging her secrets. Either she was all barked out or he bribed her with a dog biscuit.

Feeling quite guilty about indulging in a pre-breakfast chocolate croissant, I ate it anyway, and shared the other treats with Trixie and Twinkletoes. Steaming hot tea with milk and sugar first thing in the morning was living the high life for me. Room service
and
someone to clean my quarters? It was almost too heavenly to contemplate. I would be thoroughly spoiled forevermore.

Cold to the bone, I lit a fire and sat on the hearth with my hands wrapped around my hot mug of tea. The image of Mallory’s gown floating around her was burned into my mind. How could she have drowned in so little water? Why didn’t she sit up? Or stand up? Could the long gauzy material have tangled around her legs? Two feet of water! Short as I was, it hadn’t even reached my hips. It was like drowning in a bathtub.

I stretched my bare toes toward the crackling fire and thought about the previous night. Something had been going on with Mallory. She’d talked about marrying Mark, yet he had been cold as ice toward her. And she upset Eva, who’d said
two can play that game
. Goose bumps popped up on my arms. I wanted Mallory’s death to have been an accident. But wishes wouldn’t make it so. Something untoward had happened to that poor young woman last night.

I’d heard of people drowning in shallow water before. But why was she in a costume? The last time I’d seen her was at the bonfire. She wore a dress with fashionable costume jewelry. When had she changed clothes?

She didn’t have family around that I knew of, and if Mark and Eva were any indication, not much in the way of friends, either. The least I could do was make some discreet inquiries. Dying alone in a strange place was bad enough. I couldn’t desert her. She needed someone to be her friend now. Especially if she had been murdered.

I finally blew my hair dry. When I turned off the blow-dryer I heard voices. More than one. I was beginning to feel like my new home was Grand Central Station.

In a hurry, I found khakis and a long-sleeved periwinkle blue V-neck tee in a suitcase, pulled them on, and ventured into the sitting area. The voices came from the TV. Trixie sat in her favorite toile armchair, and Twinkletoes lay sphinxlike on top of a big packing box. Both of them were watching the news.

“How did you turn the TV on?” I searched for the remote, thinking one of them must have accidentally pounced on it. They probably knew where it was, but in the chaos of boxes, I didn’t see it anywhere.

Relieved that no one else had entered my apartment, I navigated between boxes back to the bedroom, slid on a belt, and added gold hoop earrings. As I passed the French doors, I paused for a moment to step out onto the balcony that overlooked the heart of Wagtail—the pedestrian zone. Many of the leaves had fallen off the trees, exposing gnarly branches, but creating a charming mosaic of reds, oranges, and golds across the grass. Corn stalks and pumpkins decorated the expansive green between the wide sidewalks. It reminded me of a long park with a walkway winding through it. Benches offered places to rest. Lively dogs could run off some energy in one of the fenced play zones.

The lack of traffic noise still amazed me. Wagtail had become a golf cart community, allowing precious few vehicles through on the residential streets. Tourists parked at a large facility just outside of town. Electric golf carts, locally known as Wagtail taxis, transported them into town.

Beneath me, early risers strolled and jogged with dogs and an occasional cat. A couple of the coffee shops and bakeries appeared to be open but most of the stores were still closed. To the left and right, the roofs of Wagtail made for a charming scene. And beyond it all, mountains rose in the distance like a beautiful, undulating quilt of fall colors.

Returning to the Sugar Maple Inn was like coming home again. My parents had moved away when I was very small, but they had sent me back to Wagtail and Oma every summer. Oma put my cousin, Josh, her best friend’s grandson, Holmes, and me to work at the inn. We had learned everything from the bottom up. We washed dishes, whitewashed fences, checked guests in and out, and made beds, yet there had always been plenty of time for swimming and playing in the woods. They had been wonderful times, away from the issues of my divorcing parents. Even though my father and his sister had left Wagtail, the Sugar Maple Inn was the family homestead. It was more of a home to me than any place I had ever lived.

I gazed over my new hometown with joy. There was something special about new beginnings and starting fresh—leaving old problems behind. In my case, my old boyfriend, Ben, and a horrible problem at my previous job. They were in my past now, and wonderful new possibilities lay ahead.

And then I remembered Mallory. Maybe they had resuscitated her. I would hate to think that her future had been snuffed out. She was so young and so full of happiness about her wedding. I would have to check with Dave. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

The cool morning air brought on shivers, prompting me to dig through my suitcase again, where I found a lavender-ish fleece vest that coordinated with my top.

“You guys ready for breakfast?” I asked, returning to the kitchen. I spooned some chicken bits with sauce into Twinkletoes’s bowl. In the small dining room, I dropped to my knees and opened the cat door in case she wanted to return later for a snack or a quiet nap. Trixie was still watching TV. I discovered an
off
button on the TV set and pressed it, thinking Trixie and Twinkletoes were far smarter than me because they knew where the remote was.

I nabbed Trixie’s leash in case I needed to coax her away from the meals of other dogs, and the three of us were out the door. Trixie and Twinkletoes sprang down the grand staircase far faster than I could go.

By the time I reached the dining area, Twinkletoes was watching leaves blowing outside the window. The muscles in her shoulders jerked as if she meant to leap after them.

Trixie had her front paws on Oma’s lap.

I said good morning to Oma and latched Trixie’s leash on her collar. “We’d better make a potty stop first.”

We passed the registration desk on our way out. Zelda was arriving for her shift. She looked like a movie star with a hangover. Huge dark sunglasses shielded her eyes. She was massaging her temples.

When Casey and I chimed, “Good morning,” Zelda placed a finger over her lips. “Shh. Not so loud, please.”

“Rough night?” I asked.

“The night was fine, but morning has been pretty grim so far.” She yawned. “I’m getting too old to stay out half the night and go to work the next day.”

Trixie and I walked outside. We were back in a flash.

Zelda held a bottle of aspirin in her hand.

“I’ll be having breakfast if you need help.”

She nodded.

Trixie ran ahead of me to the dining hall.

When I sat down at Oma’s table, I leaned toward her and whispered, “Has Dave called you, by any chance?”

Oma rested her hand on top of mine. “I’m sorry, liebchen. Dave said they tried very hard to save her but it was too late. He called me early this morning because he had to notify the interim mayor.”

“Noooo. Oh no.” I slumped in my chair. “How awful. I didn’t have much hope, but still . . .”

“It is very sad. She was only twenty-nine. Now tell me, please—what were you doing out there in the middle of the night?”

I explained about Birdie’s call. “What I don’t understand is how Trixie and Twinkletoes managed to leave the inn. The cat door was open in my apartment, but Casey would never have allowed them to leave through the registration doors.

“Holly, did you lock the kitchen door last night?”

I thought back. “I’m pretty sure I locked it when Dave was here.”

Oma pulled her hand-knitted sweater closed as though she felt a chill. “It wasn’t locked this morning.”

“Maybe a guest went out that way?” But even as I offered that explanation, I knew it didn’t make sense. Why would someone go into the private part of the inn and leave through the back door?

“The front door wasn’t locked, either. I fear you are correct. I have made a mistake by moving the registration desk to the side entrance, thus leaving the front door unobserved.”

Shelley bustled over to our table, tucking a strand of light brown hair firmly into her bun. “I’m so glad you’re back, Holly. Chocolate chip pumpkin pancakes with maple syrup and maple glazed bacon for breakfast this morning? We have a doggie version, too—chocolate-free, of course.”

Oh, the guilt! I had allowed myself to gobble all the rich food on my last visit, but now that I was here for good I really shouldn’t. I spied the remnants of maple syrup on Oma’s plate, and the scent of bacon from another table wafted by. Trixie lifted her nose, no doubt catching the aroma. Maybe just this once we could indulge . . . “Sounds wonderful. Trixie and I will both have the pancakes. Thanks!”

I gazed at Trixie. “We’re going to have to do a lot of walking to work off those calories.” She didn’t seem to be at all concerned about that.

“Did you take her to training?”

“Not yet. She saw the vet and was spayed, but otherwise it was all I could do to rent my house, pack it up, and move. Besides, there are probably more trainers here in Wagtail. I’ll make arrangements as soon as I get organized.”

A guest walked out to the terrace, and Twinkletoes jumped back in alarm when a gust from the door shook a spray of decorative bats that were flying across the huge window. She stalked them carefully from below, periodically jumping up to try to reach one.

“By the way, nice job last night with the ghost orb and the lights in registration. You had the ghost hunters going.”

Oma raised her eyebrows. “Casey told me about that. He was quite impressed. But you are giving me credit for something I did not do.”

I tilted my head at her. “Really? Why don’t I believe you?”

“I admit that it would have been great fun to greet the ghost hunters with such an event, but I had nothing to do with it. I was at the meeting about the mayor.”

“Then it must have been Mr. Luciano.”

“He’s been here a week already, but quite busy. I don’t imagine he would bother to make up such a thing.”

I doctored my second cup of steaming tea. “So what’s with Mr. Huckle?”

“He is delightful, yes? He worked for the Wiggins family for many, many years, but Peaches, the last wife, kicked him out. I could not bear to see him suffering without a job. He is not very fast or strong anymore, but guests have raved about how considerate he is. He acts as though he is everyone’s personal valet—shining shoes, walking dogs, delivering flowers and packages to rooms. He’s an excellent dog and cat sitter, I’m told.” Her head wobbled from side to side a bit. “And I must say that I love the indulgence of coffee waiting for me when I rise in the morning. I miss him on his days off.”

Down to business. I wasn’t quite sure what my responsibilities would be at the inn. Oma wanted more time to enjoy life, and running the inn was a 24/7 job. “What’s on tap for today? Should we make a list of the things you expect me to do?”

“Yes, this is a very good idea. Perhaps we can work on a list later on? It should be fairly quiet. We have a full house, but almost all of them are ghost hunters.” She lowered her voice. “The lady eating alone is Lillian Elsner, the widow of the famous Congressman. She arrived a few days ago. Lillian is one of the two guests not affiliated with our ghost hunters. Her little Yorkie is GloryB.”

Aha. The woman who had paced the hallways last night.