Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery (6 page)

Weegie’s poodle had jumped into her lap. But little Ella Mae dodged around the room, sniffing everything as though nothing had happened.

Val handled it like a pro. So smoothly that I’d have thought the power outage was intentional if I hadn’t known better. She positioned a large candle with three wicks so it lighted her face from below, giving her a frighteningly evil appearance. “Someone will be murdered tonight,” she intoned. “Each one of you has known this person in some way. Your connection to him is in the packet you received tonight. Some of you were in love, some of you hated him, and some probably loved and hated our victim. Whether you share your secret connection to the victim is up to you.”

I had to admit that the candles on the fireplace mantel and tables around the room added a certain ambience that wouldn’t have existed with electric lights. It hadn’t ruined the evening after all. On the contrary, it was charming and a little bit eerie. Perfect for a murder mystery event.

Val continued. “Three weapons are hidden in Wagtail. You have clues to help you find them. The weapons may be used to obtain information and clues from other players. If you are approached by a player with a weapon, you are obligated to share your clues and your connection to the victim. As you can see, the weapons are very powerful.”

I lighted a candle on a side table next to an elderly man whom I hadn’t noticed before and a horrified shriek escaped me.

Four

The old man slumped in his chair, one arm hanging limply over the side. His head sagged forward, his eyes closed. His white hair glowed in the candlelight. A bushy mustache covered his upper lip. He wore a black turtleneck sweater.

I felt completely foolish. My scream had drawn everyone’s attention and agitated the dogs. Gingersnap, who had stuck close to me, barked once and sniffed him from a safe distance. Trixie raced to my aid, and I noticed Twinkletoes prowling close to the man’s feet with great caution.

He had probably fallen asleep. I grabbed the candle next to him and held it near his chest for a closer look. The flame flickered, throwing distorted shadows on him.

I stretched my other hand toward his shoulder to give him a little shake.

A gust of air blew out the candle at the exact moment that he grabbed my wrist.

This time I screamed like the dead had come to life and jerked my hand away. All the dogs bounded toward me. One
of them howled, long and mournful, probably the basset hound.

But the man didn’t get up. He didn’t even lift his head. I peered at him, reluctant to try to touch him again.

I nudged his shoe with my foot. No reaction. But in the dim light, I could see Gingersnap and Trixie wagging their tails.

Someone behind me chuckled. I turned to see Geof, who uttered dryly, “Mr. Boddy, I presume?”

I recognized his reference to the victim in the game Clue.

Participants sprang to their feet and clustered behind me. Still recovering from my fright, it took me a minute to get out of their way. I scooted to the side as they made note of his condition.

“He was poisoned,” whispered Myrtle.

Mere inches from his hand, barely visible on the side table in the dark, the silver of the skull and crossbones on the green poison bottle glinted in the light of the fire.

I staggered away and collapsed in a chair.

Val slid into the chair next to me. “Wow! If I had known you were such a good actress, I would have asked you to play a role.”

I kept my tone as level as possible. “I wish I had been acting.”

“What?”

“He seized my wrist.”

Val burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. Truly I am. He wasn’t supposed to do anything like that. Your little shock aside, it played out much better than I could have hoped. The timing of the power outage was perfect.”

“Yeah? You’re not the one who has to keep the inn fireplaces stocked with wood.”

“I thought you had a handyman for stuff like that.”

“He quit this afternoon.”

“What lousy timing. Okay, look. You came through for me when we had to move the meeting. I’ll help you with the wood.”

I couldn’t see her very well in the dark, but I was touched by her offer. She had to be exhausted. I didn’t want to gush too much, though. I had a feeling that Val was the type to brush off sentiment. “That’s nice of you, thanks. I’ll give you a call if it gets to be overwhelming.”

“Good deal.”

I watched people milling around in the dark. “So this is how it begins? With me screaming and making a fool of myself? I hope that’s not how it ends! Who is that guy anyway?”

“The Baron von Rottweiler. He lives a very low key, under-the-radar life in Wagtail.”

The flames from the fire lighted her face just enough for me to see her. “You know what I meant. Who is posing as the Baron von Rottweiler?”

“I almost missed the hot chocolate! Have you had any yet?” Val bounded from her seat and headed for the table with drinks.

A very evasive maneuver if you asked me. Had she conned Mr. Huckle into posing as the Baron von Rottweiler? I dismissed that idea. The legs were too long. Mr. Huckle was a small man.

Now Val had piqued my interest. In the glow of the fire, the people who milled around the Baron looked spooky. Several local people checked him out as well. I was glad to see their enthusiasm for the game.

“Excuse me. Perhaps you could help us?” Candlelight flickered on Blanche Wimmer Tredwell and her husband. He held out his hand. “Ian Tredwell.” A receding hairline made Ian’s broad forehead appear very large. He seemed pleasant but earnest, and at that moment, his brow creased into waves of wrinkles. “My brother mentioned that you have a back exit somewhere. I’m afraid we’ve lost him in the crowd. Would you be kind enough to show us the way?”

“Yes, of course.” I picked up a lantern and led them and their saluki through the hallway. I didn’t want to be nosy but I asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No!” said Blanche a little too quickly.

I glanced at the two of them as we walked.

Ian appeared to be calm. “We don’t like to attract attention. You understand.”

I guessed he meant his wife. No matter, it was easy enough to show them to the registration lobby. I unlatched the door and handed them the lantern. “You’ll probably need this. Walk straight ahead for a few feet, then turn to the right. The walkway will bring you directly to The Blue Boar Restaurant and the main part of town. Can you find your way from there?”

They assured me that they could and strode off into the dark night. I locked the door, mentally kicking myself for not bringing two lanterns. When I turned around, a faint beam from outdoors shed some light on the room. I peeked out the window. The restaurants and stores were all well lighted! I smelled a rat.

I made my way back through the hallway to the main lobby.

The crowd had begun to thin. A few guests clustered near candles, looking over the clues and their secrets. Others took lanterns and made their way up to their rooms. Several people asked me for directions to a bar or a restaurant where they could chat over drinks.

Instead of cleaning up, I poured myself another cup of steaming hot chocolate, added a nice dollop of whipped cream, and handed Gingersnap and Trixie dog cookies.

I picked up a kitty treat and looked around for Twinkletoes. It was her habit to sit on the stairs at this time of night. I suspected she liked being petted by guests and told what a pretty kitty she was. But tonight, I didn’t see her anywhere.

And suddenly, with a clunk as loud as the previous one, all the lights came back on. I turned my head immediately to see the Baron von Rottweiler more clearly, but the chair he had occupied was empty. Perfect timing for him to vanish before the lights came back on. I grew very suspicious. Why was Val keeping his identity secret?

The electricity was greeted with cheers, applause, and another visit from a trembling Gingersnap, who clearly didn’t appreciate loud noises. I renewed my determination to find a handyman so I wouldn’t have to worry about stocking the wood-burning fireplaces in case the inn really lost power.

Just to be on the safe side, I thought I’d better check the reception doors in case anyone else had left that way. Gingersnap and Trixie joined me on the walk back to the reception area.

Mr. Huckle stepped off the elevator as we passed by. I squinted at him. “You didn’t come from the basement by any chance, did you?”

He smiled. “Why, Miss Holly! Are you accusing me of something?”

I was, actually. “That power outage was planned.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“You stinker!” He was so darling, though, with that sweet old face and proper butler attire that I couldn’t be angry with him. “Next time I’d better be in on the tricks.”

“By all means.” He suppressed a smile as he walked away, confirming my belief that he’d recommended putting out candles because he knew he would be shutting down the power temporarily. What a scamp.

I was a little bit miffed that he and Val hadn’t let me in on their plans, but maybe it had worked out better that way. If I had known there would be a dead man, I would have pretended to scream, and it wouldn’t have sounded as authentic.

I straightened up and made sure everything was in order in the registration lobby. Our little gift shop was locked, as was the door to the basement. Trixie raced ahead of me when we returned to the main lobby but I noted that Gingersnap stayed close by, no doubt fearful of yet another big bang. I double-checked the doors to the back terrace that overlooked the lake and the mountains to be sure they were securely locked.

The snow was really coming down. I paused for a few minutes to watch it in the beams of the outdoor lights. There
was just something magical about snow. Everything seemed so peaceful.

I tore myself away from the windows to clean up the leftovers—not that there were many. I loaded platters in my arms and carried them to the commercial kitchen. On my final trip, I told Trixie to behave. “Gingersnap, you’re in charge of her. I’ll be back very soon.”

The commercial kitchen was the only place in the inn where dogs and cats couldn’t go. Although the town had asked for official waivers from the laws regarding animals on the premises where food was served, everything was still pending. They skirted the law by keeping animals out of the food preparation areas.

I arranged the few leftovers in glass storage containers, then rinsed off the platters and popped them into the dishwasher so they would be clean when the cook arrived in the morning. With the dishwasher running, I picked up the leftovers and returned to the lobby. Gingersnap and Trixie waited for me just outside the door. I praised them for being good dogs and crossed to the other kitchen in the Sugar Maple Inn.

Oma had reserved one large room for family use. I had spent many happy hours there as a child. It was an open plan kitchen with enough space for a farmhouse-style dining table, a blue island that verged on turquoise, and a comfy seating area in front of a stone fireplace that was original to the building. The back door led to Oma’s little herb garden.

The dogs could have gone through the pet door but they waited for me. My hands full, I backed into the door to push it open.

Behind me, I heard a little snap. Trixie’s claws scrambled against the hardwood floors. Yelping, she raced through another pet door, located at the bottom of a built-in bookcase.

Gingersnap was on her tail and through the pet door in an instant.

Eyeing the door, I set the food on the island. I had recognized that snap. It was the sound of the bookcase closing. Oma
had hidden two secret stairwells in the inn when she renovated. No doubt the result of reading too many mysteries.

This one led up to a second-floor exit and to my apartment on the third floor, opening in my dining room.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, I considered my options. If this were a movie, and I dared to open the door, I would surely find a one-eyed monster with pointy claws for fingers. I listened. Neither Trixie nor Gingersnap was barking. Did they know the person who had concealed himself there as we entered the kitchen?

Most of the employees probably knew about the hidden stairs. Was this a continuation of tricking me for purposes of Murder Most Howl? Would I find a second body or scream loud enough to bring guests running? It would be amusing for them because they would hear the scream but not be able to find me in the secret staircase.

I exhaled noisily. The sensible thing to do would be to fetch assistance. Casey Collins would be here soon for the night shift. But then it would be a big joke, and when Oma returned, everyone would tell her the story about the time I was so scared that I waited for Casey to look behind the bookcase. Oma had run this inn for decades by herself. She would never have waited this long, pondering the situation. She would have opened the bookcase and demanded that the person show himself.

I squared my shoulders, picked up a wine bottle to bash over a head if need be, and opened the bookcase door.

Was that purring I heard? “All right,” I said. “Who’s in here?”

Five