Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery (27 page)

I heard barking. Insistent barking. Trixie perked up her ears. Where was Gingersnap?

The barking wasn’t angry or fearful. It was a high-pitched dog-SOS-style sound.

Trixie turned and ran. I was worried about slipping in the dark but I hurried behind her as fast as I could.

Trixie disappeared from view. Where had she gone? I stopped again and listened.

Gingersnap still yelped. To my right, I thought. I turned down the next street. I could still hear Gingersnap. But where were they?

I walked at a fast clip, swiveling from side to side with my lantern so I wouldn’t walk by them. I reached the end of the block and realized that the barking was now coming from behind me. And then it stopped. The silence was alarming. Had something happened to Gingersnap?

Hurrying back, I spotted her. She ran into the street, did a U-turn, and dodged back behind a house.

I followed her to a black stair railing that I assumed led to a basement. In the moonless night, I couldn’t make out anything. I squatted and held out my lantern, lowering it as far as I could. Trixie’s white face and body glimmered faintly at the bottom. On my end, all I could make out were the soles of a pair of boots.

Twenty-nine

I sat down and lowered myself one step on the icy concrete stairs. It was definitely a body. It lay facedown, so I couldn’t make out who it was. But it was a good bet it was our missing Myrtle. My heart pounding, I eased back up to the top, my gloves slipping on the slick railing.

I pulled my cell phone out of a pocket. Wagtail was known for dead spots and poor cell phone connections. I hoped I would be able to make a connection. I almost cheered when I heard the sound that meant Dave’s phone was ringing.

“Did you find her?” he was breathless.

“I think so.”

“Where?”

I held up my lantern. “The side yard of a little white house on Redbud.”

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. I think we need an ambulance.”

The line went dead. What would happen if she needed medical care? I wondered if I should wait in the street to guide him, or if I should see if I could help Myrtle. The latter won.
If she was alive, helping or comforting her was the least I could do.

I returned to the stairs and sat down on the top one as I had before. I lowered my feet, then my bottom one step at a time. I sat next to her boots. Then by her side. It seemed an eternity passed before I was firmly on the bottom. Trixie was licking Myrtle’s face.

“Myrtle?” No response. “Myrtle?” I said louder.

She didn’t move. I slid off my glove and touched her shoulder. “Can you hear me?” I shouted.

She still didn’t move.

She wore gloves but no hat. The wind whistled above us.

I took off my hat and slid it onto her head. I knew better than to turn her over. If she had broken her neck or back in the fall, moving her could result in paralysis. If she was alive at all.

Relief flooded through me when I heard Dave’s voice yelling my name. “Back here!”

The strong beam of a flashlight blinded me briefly. I raised my hand to shield my eyes.

Dave took care coming down the steps. “The ski patrol from Snowball is coming.”

“How?”

“Snowmobile.” He said it as though it happened every day.

“Do you think she’s alive?”

“Can’t tell. All we can do at this point is wait. They’ll have to stabilize her on a stretcher before they can pull her out of here.” He flicked the beam of the flashlight at the steps and upward.

“Whose house is this? What would she have been doing here?”

“It’s a summer home. The owners live in Florida during the winter.”

He hadn’t answered my second question. I figured he couldn’t know what Myrtle had been up to either.

“Treacherous,” was all he said.

I followed the light. It was evident even to my untrained
eyes that she had fallen from the top and slid down the snowy stairs. “The displaced snow along her right side is from me, trying to get down here without slipping.”

I heard him sigh.

“Wait, I thought I saw something. Go back.”

Dave retraced the route the light had taken.

“There! What is that?”

Hidden halfway under Myrtle, something gleamed in the light. Dave pulled it out.

“The gun from Murder Most Howl!” I felt slightly sick. “What kind of demented person would go around killing people and leaving the fake murder weapons near their bodies?”

“Let’s hope she’s not dead.” Dave walked up the steps. The beam of the flashlight danced along the snow. Gingersnap accompanied him. “You and your dogs made a fine mess of the tracks but I think someone else was with her.”

From the clicking sound I heard, I guessed he was trying to take some photos. I didn’t think he would have much success.

It wasn’t a moment too soon, though. People began to cluster at the top of the stairs. Holmes made his way down to me.

“Is she alive?”

“Don’t know.”

An emergency medical technician pushed his way through and joined us at the bottom of the stairs. “Did you move her?”

“No.”

“Good. Thanks. Hop on out of here so we can work, okay?”

I climbed up the way I came down, backward on my bottom, one step at a time. Trixie had no such problems. With her four-paw drive, she raced past me. Holmes walked up like a normal human, putting me to shame for being overly careful.

I waited with Ben and Holmes while the rescue squad fastened Myrtle to a board and flipped her. Shivering in the cold, I realized that my fingers were going slightly numb. We had to get the dogs back. They didn’t have shoes to keep their paws warm.

The EMTs brought her up out of the stairwell. “We have a heartbeat. Faint, but it’s there.”

With that good news, I asked Dave to keep me posted and hurried back to the inn as fast as I dared to go. Ben and Holmes remained behind.

Gingersnap limped up the stairs to the inn, which worried me. As soon as we walked through the door, I dropped to my knees and reached for a front paw to massage it. I scooted the lantern closer. No wonder she was limping. Hard balls of ice were stuck to the fur between her toes.

I helped her remove them, leaving a watery mess on the floor. I needn’t have worried, though. Just like magic, Mr. Huckle appeared with a mop.

With both dogs walking normally, I shed my jacket and hurried to the fireplace to warm up.

“We heard they found her?” asked Char. She sat with Robin and members of The Thursday Night Cloak and Dagger Club. Ella Mae pranced around from person to person.

Even in the firelight I could see the worry on their faces.

“Gingersnap did. Myrtle is still alive.”

“Woohoo!” Cries of joy resounded through the Dogwood Room. “Where is she?” They gazed around as if they expected Myrtle to walk in at any moment.

“They’re taking her to the hospital. I don’t know much about her condition. She fell down concrete stairs, facedown. I think she was unconscious. At least, she didn’t respond to me.” I could see their initial excitement waning. “I don’t want to upset you, but it didn’t look good.”

Holmes, Ben, and Geof joined us, along with other members of the book club who had been out searching. I moved away from the fire to give them a chance to warm up.

Mr. Huckle and Aunt Birdie had been busy in the kitchen. Mr. Huckle rolled in a cart with hot chocolate and homemade pizza, fresh from the oven. They didn’t really go together but anything warm and comforting was welcome.

Those who had been outdoors pounced on the hot food. Geof offered Char a slice but she declined.

“Is this dog pizza?” I asked, just to be sure before giving some to Gingersnap and Trixie.

Mr. Huckle nodded. “Indeed. Cook had it clearly marked in the freezer.”

I checked it out. It looked like thin pizza dough, sprinkled with hamburger and cheese.

Ben picked up a slice. “This looks more my style. Can people eat it?”

Mr. Huckle assured him that it was perfectly safe for human consumption but he might find it a little bit bland.

After Ben had eaten half of a piece, I couldn’t help teasing him. “Aren’t you worried that you might get the urge to bark?”

“I don’t understand this,” said Weegie. “One minute Myrtle was driving us batty at dinner and the next moment, she disappeared.”

Another member said, “I guess we were so eager to get away from her that none of us noticed. I feel terrible. We should have been better friends.”

“What was she doing at dinner?” I bit into another piece of mushroom and olive white pizza.

“She was always complaining about something. Anyone remember?”

“I think her wineglass wasn’t clean enough.”

“She thought the prices were too high and the menu too exotic—” the speaker looked toward Geof and Char “—I’m sorry, but she also groused about you and your brother, claiming the game was stacked for you to win.”

Geof sputtered, “That’s just not true. I know she’s your friend but—”

Char deftly slid her hand onto his knee and squeezed. He stopped midsentence.

One of the club members spoke softly. “She said something
about that man who died. Not the baron, the real man. I just humored her. I wish I had paid attention.”

I wished she had, too. I couldn’t imagine what would have possessed her to go to that house.

The front door burst open, and Dave walked in. He left his boots and outerwear at the door and strode to the fire. He must have been freezing.

“Do any of you have next of kin information on Myrtle?” he asked.

A couple of them gasped.

“Doesn’t mean anything. We just need to notify her family, that’s all.”

The members gazed at each other.

“She’s divorced.”

“Her children live in China.”

“That’s not Myrtle, that’s Sylvie.”

“Does Myrtle have children?”

“Doesn’t she have a sister?”

“Yes. And a nephew whom she dislikes.”

“I think she might not get along with the sister, either.”

Suddenly, I was sad for Myrtle. Had she alienated everyone?

Dave raised his eyebrows at me. I knew just what he meant. It should be a lesson to us all.

The tragic conversation continued, naming people with whom Myrtle no longer spoke. A scream brought it to an abrupt halt.

Thirty

Sylvie screamed a second time and jumped toward me.

“What is it?”

The light from the fire wasn’t the best but I couldn’t see anything wrong.

Dave flicked on his flashlight. The beam landed like a spotlight on a mouse. A tiny little nervous mouse sat next to a pair of shoes. And right beside the mouse was none other than Leo, once again looking thoroughly perplexed about the commotion.

“It’s that cat again! With another mouse!” Sylvie backed toward the fire and climbed on a chair. “It ran over my foot! Why do you have mice in this inn? It’s revolting. You really need an exterminator. Where is it? Where is it?”

I didn’t bother explaining that Leo had probably brought the mouse inside. Who knew where he was getting them? Leo’s fascination with Sylvie was a mystery to me as well. But I knew what was going to happen if I didn’t catch the mouse very, very fast. I looked around for something to throw over it, like a bowl or a box.

It was too late.

Twinkletoes saw the mouse. She pounced. The mouse ran. Twinkletoes leaped after him. The two cats on leashes bounded after her. Ella Mae couldn’t resist the chase, and in two seconds, Puddin’, Trixie, and Gingersnap were in on the fun. Like a ridiculous conga line, they raced through the inn. I didn’t think it would end well for the poor little mouse.

Oddly enough, Leo stayed behind. When I helped Sylvie off the chair, Leo rubbed his face against her legs. “I think there’s something wrong with this cat. What’s he doing now? Is he going to bite me?”

“Sylvie, you dope,” said Weegie. “He’s being affectionate. That’s what cats do.”

“The only other cat I have known did the same awful thing to me. Do I look hungry? Do I appear to need a mouse?”

That cracked her friends up. I was glad to see a little release of tension.

Dave motioned for me to follow him to the door. He jammed his feet into his boots and grabbed his jacket. “That Myrtle must be a real class act. Sounds like she doesn’t like anything or anyone. I didn’t want to say this in front of her friends but you need to know.”