Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery (20 page)

“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.

But when we walked into the inn, Holmes and I stopped dead.

Twenty

Aunt Birdie was waiting for us beside a rather large suitcase.

“
Hmmpf.
I didn’t expect to see Ben here. Holly, perhaps Mr. Huckle can take my luggage up to my room.”

“Your room? Oh, Aunt Birdie. I believe you misunderstood me when I said we’ll see you later. We’re full up. There’s not an unoccupied room in the entire inn.”

“No matter. I’ll stay in your grandmother’s apartment.”

“We could probably fit a rollaway bed in the living room if you don’t mind sharing with Mr. Huckle.” It was a little audacious of me, but I couldn’t help myself.

Ben and Holmes snickered.

“There’s nothing amusing about that. I believe you have a guest room? I don’t mind sharing your suite.” She removed her faux leopard print coat and held it out to me.

“Ben and Holmes are staying with me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I see I’m not a minute too soon. The moment your grandmother leaves town, this place
turns into a den of iniquity. Mr. Huckle is not doing his job properly. I shall have a word with him.”

“Aunt Birdie, there’s nothing to be agitated about. You can sleep in the comfort of your own home knowing that they’re here to help me if we get another big blast of snow.”

Her expression and tone changed. “I thought you needed
my
help.”

“Is that pine in your hair?” asked Ben.

No wonder Birdie was giving me that look. Ben reached toward me, but I backed up a step and felt my hair for pine. Sure enough, I pulled a pine needle out.

Mr. Huckle toddled up to us. “Miss Holly, if I am not mistaken, you haven’t had time for lunch. Perhaps you, Miss Birdie, and your gentlemen friends would like to take tea while I man the desk for a bit.”

So this was how it would be. On Oma’s return, she would hear that Trixie had found another corpse, I had hired a murderer who stole a guest’s necklace, and instead of working, I had entertained gentlemen callers.

I raised my chin and summoned every ounce of dignity I had left. “Thank you, Mr. Huckle. That’s very thoughtful of you. I believe I’ll just stop upstairs for a moment to fix my hair.”

As I walked toward the stairs, I ignored Ben’s question, “How did you get pine in your hair?”

Five minutes later, I joined them at a table by the fire. I needn’t have worried for a moment about Mr. Huckle’s comment about my gentlemen friends. They appeared to have bonded over Blanche. They had taken seats from which they could see her enjoying teatime with Ian, Geof, Char, and Robin.

Blanche wore another off-the-shoulder sweater and tight leggings that matched the color of her saluki’s fur. The sweater was trimmed in rhinestones, and she looked every bit a star.

“If you don’t stop staring at Blanche, I’m going to make you change your seats.”

Holmes and Ben sputtered excuses.

“Seriously. How would you like it if every woman in the room was watching you? Get up!”

With about the same level of happiness as the little boy who had lost his favorite sled, the guys changed their seats and shifted their drinks so that I was looking in Blanche’s direction and Holmes’s and Ben’s backs were to her.

“Thank you,” I said.

We had just taken our seats again when Aunt Birdie joined us.

Shelley showed up with tiny, single servings of mac and cheese and set them before us. “Cook is trying out Mac and Cheeselets as an alternative to cucumber sandwiches in the wintertime.” She set two bowls on the floor for the dogs. “Mac and Tease for Trixie and Gingersnap.”

I peeked in the bowls. They were eating fast but I could make out macaroni, hamburger, and just a tease of cheese. “Thanks, Shelley.” I helped myself to a Mac and Cheeselet.

“Since when is mac and cheese served for afternoon tea?” sniffed Aunt Birdie. “This isn’t proper at all.”

“We haven’t had time for lunch. You don’t have to eat it. Maybe Shelley could bring you cucumber sandwiches.”

“No need. I’m rather fond of mac and cheese. A pedestrian dish, yet curiously satisfying.”

Shelley made a face but returned to the kitchen and brought us a pot of tea.

We all dug into the savory dish, perfect for those who had been out in the cold. The Parmesan on top crunched ever so slightly—the best part if you asked me. But no one was asking or talking. We ate like we were starved.

Twinkletoes and Leo stretched out by the fire, making for a charming scene.

At the next table over, I could hear Myrtle and Sylvie.

“How long do cats live?” asked Sylvie.

Myrtle put down her cucumber sandwich. “About the same as a dog, I guess. Twelve, fourteen years?”

“That long? I had no idea.”

“Are you thinking about getting a cat?”

“No. There are just so many cats and dogs around here that one can’t help wondering about these things.”

“I’m far more interested in murder. It had to be the wife,” said Myrtle. “The age difference is staggering. He had to be as old as her parents.”

I smiled to hear her speculation on Murder Most Howl. But I noticed that Weegie and Puddin’ were enjoying tea at a different table, not with other members of their book club.

“Don’t they always look at the spouse first in a murder investigation?” asked Sylvie. “I bet she married him for his money. She probably got tired of the old coot and knocked him off.”

“There was a huge age difference. What could they possibly have had in common?”

“I have never understood that,” said Myrtle. “I know why men like younger women, but what could that girl have been thinking?”

“Now those are sensible women,” muttered Birdie. “They probably never invited two young men to share their sleeping quarters.”

“What do you bet he already had a mistress?”

I tried to hide my smile. Once they discovered that Lillian was the baron’s mistress, Myrtle and Sylvie would suspect her instead of the wife.

“I think we have to make another trip around to see the merchants. Some of them probably know the scoop. Like the fellow in the bookstore, he seemed to know everyone.” She paused to take a bite of a smoked salmon pinwheel. “What we need is an excuse to visit the wife.”

Aunt Birdie shot me an appalled look.

Holmes muttered, “Visit?”

Everyone except Ben stopped eating and listened rather openly.

“I wonder where she lives,” said Myrtle. “We could take her some flowers.”

Under my breath, I said, “Am I the only one who thinks they’re talking about Norm?”

“Myrtle,” said Sylvie, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’d be appalled if someone in your family had died and some stranger dropped by to question you.”

Yikes! I jumped to my feet before I thought about what I should say. My abrupt movement alarmed little Ella Mae, who raced over to me. Trixie opened one eye but Gingersnap didn’t budge from her snooze by the fire.

I bent to pick up Ella Mae, buying myself a little time to think of something that wouldn’t sound like I was scolding our guests. Clutching the lively little dog, I approached the table where Myrtle and Sylvie sat.

“Are you enjoying teatime?” I asked.

“Everything is so delicious,” raved Sylvie. “I don’t know that I’ll have room for dinner tonight.”

“I’m so glad.” I lowered my voice. “I’m afraid I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and I wanted to be sure you understand that the prizes are only for solving the murder of the Baron von Rottweiler.”

Myrtle flapped her hand in disgust. “There’s no way anyone can win that. Those two brothers—” she flipped her hand toward Ian and Geof Tredwell “—have made it impossible to get information from any of the other players. They stole my weapon from me in broad daylight, right in front of you, and you didn’t do a thing about it. Then somehow they stole the candlestick, too. They cheated, and what’s worse, you helped them.” She glared at them with open contempt. “Besides, there’s a much bigger prize in solving Norm’s murder—bringing a real killer to justice. That’s far more important than any ridiculous game.”

Twenty-one