Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery (24 page)

Blanche acted as though it was perfectly normal. I guessed it was for her.

Val hurried toward us. “Ms. Wimmer, er, Tredwell! What a pleasure.”

“Thank you.”

I introduced her to Val, who promptly asked if she could take a picture for the wall of the pub.

Blanche was gracious and funny. She didn’t seem to mind the swarm of people who formed to meet her and have their pub napkins signed.

“We should have a Blanche Wimmer dish,” said Val. “What’s your favorite sandwich or pub food?”

Blanche thought for a moment. “How about a good old-fashioned American hamburger, Blanche-style? Can I come back there and show you? I’ll need some onions . . .”

Val hustled her to the grill.

Blanche shed her jacket and gloves and, with the ease of a TV chef, set about explaining how to make her favorite burger.

Val whispered, “I’m taking the camera in the back to print out the picture so she can sign it.”

Blanche performed in front of a rapt audience, so I followed Val.

While she focused on printing out the photo, I wandered around her back office. I had never been in there before. We usually talked in the bar area, or met at a restaurant or the inn.

She had decorated the walls with framed diplomas and family photos. I recognized her as a child in one of the pictures. She posed with her arm around a taller blonde girl about her age. “You have a huge family!”

“That was my grandparents’ anniversary. All the aunts and uncles and cousins came.”

I smiled at a mock-up photo where Val and the blonde girl pretended to be mermaids. Their young faces had been inserted into voluptuous mermaid bodies. “Is this your sister?”

“That was a vacation in Florida with my cousin, Juliana, and her folks. She and I were like sisters. We did everything together. I miss her so much.”

My heart skipped a beat. Juliana?

Twenty-five

I tried to sound casual but red warning flags were jumping up in my head. “The same Juliana who was married to Norm? Why didn’t you tell me?”

The printer whirred and a picture emerged. Val didn’t look at me or respond.

“Val, did you intentionally base the Murder Most Howl clues on Norm?” I blurted it out, not at all the way I had meant to approach the subject.

She focused on the picture in her hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I walked over to her. “I think you do. Why would you have done that?”

Val sighed. “It’s harder than you’d think to write one hundred clues. I kept writing evil things the baron had done, and before I knew it, he sounded a lot like Norm. I figured I’d go with it. I mean, if you have to avoid everything anyone has ever done, then you’d never have any clues.”

She sounded breezy, as if it were no big deal. “You didn’t think you were hitting a little too close to home?”

“There were plenty of clues that didn’t apply to him at all. The baron had a ton of children. As far as I know, Norm didn’t even have one.”

That was probably true. But I was seeing a side of Val that was making me uncomfortable. Would I feel that way if Norm hadn’t died? Surely Val’s clues hadn’t triggered his death. I tested her. “Or maybe you wanted to aggravate him?”

“What’s the big deal, Holly? You’re making it sound like I did something despicable. So I yanked his chain with a few of those clues. It doesn’t matter anymore now anyway. It’s not like he’s going to complain about it.”

Maybe not. Then why did it bother me so much?

She’d never answered whether her cousin was the same Juliana. “So you were related to Norm.”

“Bite your tongue! Only by marriage and that was an appalling choice on Juliana’s part. I don’t know what she was thinking.”

A cheer went up out in the bar. The two of us hurried back in time to see Blanche mugging for cameras and joining people in selfies. She was a good sport.

Blanche signed the picture, and we were on our way back to the inn. While we walked, I worked up the nerve to ask her an important question where she might have special insight. We were almost back at the inn by the time I was brave enough to utter the words. “Who would have wanted to murder Norm?”

Blanche chuckled wryly. “Besides me, you mean? Let’s see. His wives, the people who love them, the people who made the mistake of investing their money in his schemes, the people he took advantage of. There was a long line of people who would have liked to do him in, Holly. I might have been at the front of the line, but somebody else did the dirty work for me.”

I froze at her words. Surely she didn’t mean that literally? Ian? Ian and Geof?

The front door of the inn opened.

Ella Mae, dressed in a fuzzy white coat, raced toward us, followed closely by Charlotte. “There you are! We couldn’t find you anywhere. The boys are hungry again. Are you ready for dinner?”

Blanche turned toward me and gave me a hug. “Thank you for listening to me ramble. It was . . . cathartic for me.”

She wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s waist as they walked away, and I heard her say, “Isn’t it peculiar that spilling your guts to a stranger can feel more cleansing than telling people you know?”

Charlotte responded, “That’s because the people who know you already know your problems and don’t listen anymore.”

I wondered if that was true.

The inn was quiet. It was the time of day when most people were out to dinner or getting dressed to go. I wondered where Aunt Birdie, Ben, and Holmes had disappeared to. Had they decided to take naps? I wouldn’t have minded a snooze.

Trixie knew exactly where they were. She dashed over to the door of Oma’s private kitchen and through the pet door.

I followed her, except I opened the big door. Sure enough, everyone had gathered there. Twinkletoes sat on the hearth, glaring at Ben, for whom she had no fondness. The feeling was mutual on Ben’s part. He didn’t grow up with animals and had never felt the bond of love with a cat or a dog.

Aunt Birdie nursed a large glass of wine, supervising Mr. Huckle as he warmed something on the stove. From the annoyed look on his face, and her comments, I gathered she was instructing him on how to do it correctly.

Holmes seemed thoroughly at home, relaxing in a big chair with his feet up on the hearth and Gingersnap by his side.

Altogether a charming scene. It wasn’t just the warm kitchen and the heavenly scent of dinner on the stove, but the togetherness of people who cared about one another.

“Wine, Holly?” asked Holmes.

I declined. I had no reason to imagine anything else would
go wrong, but between the business with Shadow and the news that Juliana had been Val’s cousin, I felt the need to be alert.

“A good bracing cup of tea, Miss Holly?” asked Mr. Huckle.

He wasn’t British. I smiled at his firm faith that a cup of tea would make the world right again. “Thanks. I’ll put the kettle on. What are you cooking? It smells delicious.”

“Beer-braised pork chops. I hope you’ll enjoy them.”

Behind his back, Aunt Birdie waved her hand doubtfully. “There are entirely too many onions in it.”

“Perhaps you should taste it before you opine, Miss Birdie.”

Their banter was silly but it soothed my rattled nerves. There, in the warmth of Oma’s kitchen, the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

“Onions? Do we have something for the dogs?”

Ben showed me a pot. “It’s called Rodeo Roundup. I thought it was for people. It’s not bad.”

“You tried it?” He was eating dog food?

“A little bland, but all it needs is a dash of salt.”

I peered into the pot. Ground beef, kidney beans, corn, and brown rice. I’d had worse.

Holmes groaned and stretched. “We had quite an interesting conversation in your absence.”

I poured boiling water over a tea bag. “Oh? What about?”

“Norm!” they all chimed together, ruining my fantasy that the rest of the world had disappeared.

Mr. Huckle announced that dinner was ready.

“Sit next to me,” said Holmes, pointing to a chair.

Aunt Birdie nudged me with her elbow.

She needn’t have worried. Holmes flicked out a notepad and sat down. “We’ve made a list of all the people who might have wanted to kill him.”

“Our number one suspect is Blanche.” Ben spooned sauce over his pork chop. “Lillian saw him enter Randolph Hall. And we know he was terrible to her, taking her money and causing her to have to live in her car.”

I nodded my head and helped myself to salad. It was worse than they knew. Still, I liked Blanche. She’d been through the wringer with him. “Poor Blanche. I hope she didn’t kill him. Who else?”

“Don’t forget Blanche’s current husband and his brother.” Holmes made a notation on the pad. “They might have killed him to protect her. Or out of love for her.”

“You won’t like this, Miss Holly, but I’m afraid we must consider your friend, Miss Val. Her behavior has been so odd. How could she know all those things about Norm?”

I looked at Mr. Huckle. “She was related to him. His second wife, Juliana, was her cousin.”

Forks clanked to plates.

“Well, that moves Val to number one on the suspect list.” Aunt Birdie drank from her wine glass.

“To tell the truth, it sounded more like she was being lazy. After all, as Ben said, he made a great victim. He had done so many terrible things to people. It was easy for her to make up clues based on him.”

Ben shot me a pleased smile. “Aunt Birdie, why would that make Val the number one suspect? If anything, she would have wanted to murder Shadow for killing Juliana, not Norm.”

“Shadow.” Holmes cut into his pork chop. “I don’t know what to think about him. I feel like he’s telling the truth when he insists that he didn’t poison Juliana. Holly, did he give you the impression that he blames Norm for anything?”

“No. Norm lost his wife. He was the hapless victim of that sad saga.”

“How about Shadow’s dad, Hollis?” Aunt Birdie was gobbling up the pork chop and sauce that contained too many onions. “I was there when Shadow said his father had to quit blaming Norm for everything that went wrong for Shadow.”

“It was clear that he blames Norm for something. Mr. Huckle, this is so good I want to lick the pan,” said Ben.

Mr. Huckle offered him another chop and spooned more of the sauce over top of it.

Aunt Birdie placed her knife and fork on her plate and sat up straight. “I might be able to shed some light on this. I’m told that Shadow’s legal fees cost his parents a great deal of money. And then to add insult to injury, Norm sued everyone involved. Of course, that didn’t extend to Shadow’s parents, but it meant more legal fees for a civil trial.”

Ben ate like he’d never seen food before. Maybe he was living off cereal and milk now that I wasn’t around. He swallowed a bite. “Ah yes. When all else fails, blame the lawyers.”

“C’mon, Ben. You can see how Hollis would have been resentful.” Holmes speared a carrot slice in his salad. “Holly, who do you think it was?”

“I don’t know. I feel like we’re missing something. All we know for sure is that the night he was killed, Norm left here and Lillian followed him. She saw him hanging around outside of Randolph Hall, then she saw him go inside.”

“And that’s where the trail ends until he showed up on the bench, frozen. I’d say that’s fairly incriminating. Wouldn’t you?” Holmes gazed at me hopefully.

“Who does that incriminate? Blanche? Her husband? I know that killers don’t wear horns on their heads and carry pitchforks, but I like Blanche. I haven’t talked to Ian much, but Char and Geof seem like nice people. I’m having trouble imagining that they would have come here planning to kill him.”

“It’s worth noting,” said Ben, “that unless the killer is diabetic and had to have insulin on hand, the killer planned this in advance. Who would Norm have been willing to meet at a park bench in the middle of a blizzard?”

“Blanche or any young blonde.” The words slipped out of my mouth.

“Is there a mistress after all?” asked Aunt Birdie. “Someone he promised to marry perhaps?”

“Why would he stray when he can go home to Savannah?” Holmes sipped his wine.

“Excuse me,” protested Aunt Birdie. “There’s a lot to be
said for women his age . . . and older. Maybe he got tired of young things who fill their heads with frivolity.”

We all stared at Aunt Birdie.

“It’s possible.”

I could see the men at the table were doubtful about that. And to be honest, so was I.

Gingersnap sat down next to me and pawed at me. “Are you still hungry?”

She whined. Not at all like Gingersnap.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She ran to the door, but instead of going through the doggy door, she looked back at me expectantly. It was my rule to make sure the dogs went out to do their business before they ate. But I’d forgotten about Gingersnap. “Did anyone take Gingersnap out?”

Somewhat sheepishly, they all shook their heads.

“We’ll be right back.” I rose from my seat, grabbed my jacket, and followed Gingersnap through the inn to the sliding glass doors in the reception lobby. Trixie trotted along for fun.

Once outside, Trixie bounded off somewhere, but Gingersnap headed for the doggy potty. Snowflakes floated gently from the sky. The peaceful stillness of snow surrounded us. I strolled in the direction of The Blue Boar, enjoying the wintery moment.