Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery (8 page)

The moaning wind drowned my scream but not my horror. I stepped closer. Was he real or a prop?

The streetlamp next to the bench offered precious little light in the swirling snow. But the brightly lit storefront window display of Tall Tails, the local bookstore, helped somewhat. Icy snow covered his knit beanie-style hat and clung to his eyebrows and lashes. His eyes were half open as if he was drowsy. He wore a navy blue jacket. The swirling wind that made it difficult for me to stand didn’t appear to have an impact on him.

Gingersnap inched her nose closer to his body as though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the snowman.

My breath caught in my throat when I realized a bottle lay in his lap, covered with snow. Had he been too drunk to get up and save himself?

Surely not. I dared to reach forward and dust the surface of the bottle. It was the faux bottle of poison that had allegedly killed the Baron von Rottweiler! One of the
weapons for Murder Most Howl. So the guy was a fake. Val must have been up half the night setting it up.

I looked down at Trixie. “He’s not real, sweetie. Though I agree that he sure looks human.”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than it occurred to me that dogs used their noses more than their eyes. Even in this blizzard, Trixie should have realized far sooner than me that the man was a plastic prop.

Gingersnap delicately pawed his knee.

I peered at the frozen man’s face again. All the ice crystals on it had to mean he wasn’t a real person. No one could sit there covered in ice and snow like that. He’d freeze to death.

Wait a minute. What a coincidence that he was sitting where tourists would find him. Had Val counted on someone making a fuss and thinking the guy was real?

The face seemed odd, almost like a mask, yet vaguely familiar. I had to call Val to find out for sure. If he was a fake, I would be the butt of a joke that no one would ever let me forget. But I hadn’t bothered to bring my cell phone.

This time, Trixie allowed me to pick her up. Gingersnap and I walked back to the inn. No one sat at the front desk, and the melted snow hadn’t been cleaned. I wondered where Casey was. Maybe he was getting a snack in Oma’s kitchen.

I set Trixie down and used the phone on the desk to call Val. She answered with a sleep-fogged voice. While I felt a little bit bad about waking her, she deserved it if she had left that fake body out there without telling me.

“Val, did you arrange for a second body to be found with the poison bottle?”

“Huh? Who is this?”

“It’s Holly. Is the guy on the bench one of your props?”

“What are you talking about?”

A shiver ran through me. “Are you kidding?”

I heard her moan. “I don’t joke at five thirty in the morning.”

Was it that late? Guests would be rising soon! “I’m going to call Dave. He won’t be happy if you’re lying about this.”

Her words were measured. “Holly, I do not know what you’re talking about. Where is this guy?”

“On a bench near Tall Tails.”

I said good-bye and phoned Dave Quinlan. Officer Dave, as he was fondly known around Wagtail. He sounded almost as groggy as Val. But his voice cleared up as soon as I told him I thought we had a problem and described the man on the bench. “You’re sure he’s dead?”

“I’m not even sure he’s real, but Val insists that he’s not part of the mystery weekend.”

Soft giggling caused me to turn around. Myrtle and Weegie were watching something in the Dogwood Room. Oh boy. Guests were up and about but I didn’t smell coffee yet. “Dave,” I said into the phone, “meet me in front of Tall Tails in ten minutes.”

“Okay.” He hung up.

Trixie and Gingersnap had joined the group in the Dogwood Room. I walked over to see what was going on, dismayed to find that Puddin’, Weegie’s poodle, was licking Casey’s hand. He was splayed on the sofa, dead asleep, not unlike the first time I had met him. One arm hung off the edge, and his stockinged feet relaxed on the armrest.

Trixie joined Puddin’ in licking his hand, and Gingersnap kissed his face.

Suddenly, Casey shouted, “Seventeen seventy-five!” and jerked up to a sitting position. He blinked at us. “Did I fall asleep? Nooo,” he wailed. “I have an exam this morning.”

The front door opened. Shelley and the cook came in with a blast of frigid air.

Casey pushed his glasses on his face, grabbed the books that lay about him, and hurried to the front desk.

“Isn’t he adorable?” whispered Weegie to Myrtle. “Reminds me of that boy who played Harry Potter. We could help him study.”

“And let someone else be the first to find the clues? No, ma’am. We got up early to win, not to tutor some kid who—”
she raised her voice so he would hear “—should have been studying all along and then he wouldn’t be in this fix.”

“All right,” conceded Weegie. “I do have to let Puddin’ out anyway.”

But I noticed that when Myrtle wasn’t looking, Weegie whispered something to Casey about helping him when they came back for breakfast.

The scent of coffee brewing finally filled the air, making me reluctant to head back out into the predawn darkness and cold. But Dave would be there any minute.

I headed for the stairs in a rush but Shelley nabbed me. “Holly!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I have a little problem and could use your help.”

Uh-oh. This day wasn’t starting well. “Is it an urgent crisis or can it wait an hour?”

“It can wait. What’s going on?”

“There’s either a dead man or a prop on a bench outside but I’m not sure which it is.”

“Good heavens!” Shelley waved her hands horizontally. “No problem. This can definitely wait. Did you call Val?”

I nodded. “She says it’s not a prop.” I sprang up the stairs to my apartment as fast as I could, swapped my nightgown for a turtleneck, opened the dog door so Twinkletoes could come and go as she pleased, grabbed a warm coat for Trixie, and hurried back downstairs. Trixie was agreeable about putting the coat on and dashed out the door with Puddin’ at the first opportunity. Gingersnap parked herself just inside the door, her eyes trained on the stairs as if she expected more guests to wake soon and didn’t want to miss them.

The blizzard had died down but snow fell so heavily that it still obscured vision. I stepped out on the porch, where Myrtle and Weegie had paused to pull on gloves.

“My goodness, Myrtle,” said Weegie. “Maybe we should have a cup of coffee first. I can’t see my own hand.”

“If we wait, someone else will snap up all the clues.”

“I doubt anyone else is crazy enough to be out in this
weather.” Weegie looked over at me. “What are you doing out here?”

I paused a beat too long. What could I say? There might be a man frozen to a bench? “I have to meet someone.” That was true!

But my moment of hesitation caught Myrtle’s interest. She knocked her elbow against Weegie’s, then pulled her hat down on her head more firmly. “She’s putting out clues!”

I had to hurry but I took the time to deny it. “They were all out yesterday.” I said good-bye, suspecting they would follow me anyway. They did. Puddin’ ran ahead with Trixie, who raced along the sidewalk in the direction of the bench.

I was pleased to see that the streetlight shed more light on the man now that the wind had died down.

Dave was already there and leaning over to examine the man more closely. Formerly a naval sailor, Dave lived in Wagtail and kept an eye on it, even though the sheriff’s headquarters were on Snowball Mountain. Early to mid-thirties like Val and me, Dave had grown up in Wagtail. Sometimes he had a hard time convincing the older folks who had known him as a little boy that he was an adult now and in charge.

He straightened up and asked, “You’re sure this isn’t some kind of stunt for Murder Most Howl?”

Myrtle lunged forward. “Of course it is! There’s the poison bottle that disappeared last night.” She grabbed the bottle and waved it in the air, doing a little dance. “I told you the early bird gets the worm. Or in this case the poison!”

Dave looked on in horror. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I have to take that. It’s evidence.” He held out his gloved hand for it.

Myrtle clutched it to her and looked at me. “Isn’t this one of the weapons?”

I was pretty sure that it was the same bottle Val had used the previous night. I glanced at Dave. “I think it
is
one of the pretend weapons for the game.”

Dave frowned. “So this guy could be a fake after all? May I please see the bottle?”

Myrtle stood her ground. “No! We found it fair and square.”

“Ma’am, I am the local law enforcement officer. Now hand me that bottle.”

Weegie nudged her friend. “Better do it, Myrtle.”

The second Dave took it into his hand, he threw a dirty glance at me. “You knew this was a prop, and you called me out here anyway?”

“Just because the bottle is fake doesn’t mean the man couldn’t be real,” I protested.

Val arrived at that moment and overheard me.

I looked at her, hoping with all my might that the guy really was a prop. She might pull
my
leg, but she’d have to be honest with Dave.

A screech shuddered out of her mouth. “Good heavens. He’s not part of the game!”

Behind me, Weegie exclaimed, “You mean that’s a real person? Someone sat down right here and died?”

No one answered her.

Dave touched one of the man’s frosty eyebrows. Apparently unconvinced, he tried to lift the edge of the knit cap. “It’s frozen to his head.” He stepped back. “Looks like Norm, doesn’t he?”

That was why he looked familiar!

Dave focused on Val. “You sure you’re not pulling a fast one?”

“Honest! The participants only have today and a few hours tomorrow to solve the death of the Baron von Rottweiler. I decided a second murder would be too much for them to handle.”

Dave’s mouth puckered. “So help me, if I call the rescue squad and this turns out to be part of your murder mystery—”

“It’s not!” Val protested. “I don’t know if he’s real or not—gosh, I hope not—but I had nothing to do with it.”

Dave pulled out his radio and called for an ambulance.

When he was through, he leaned forward and unsnapped the top of the man’s navy blue jacket. He tugged at the zipper
but it didn’t budge. He slid his fingers along the side of the neck and wedged them under the man’s turtleneck.

I saw Dave’s shoulders jerk. He backed up. “I think we have a corpse.”

“Don’t they freeze people on purpose sometimes?” asked Val. “Maybe they can revive him in the hospital.”

“That’s right.” A glimmer of hope crept into me. “They lower their temperatures so their hearts hardly beat.”

“Yeah? Well, if his heart is beating at all, I’d be surprised.” Dave scanned the area.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Footprints. It came down so hard and fast that the snow melt stuff couldn’t keep up but the snow also did a great job filling any tracks.”

Val cocked her head. “You mean the footprints from this guy?”

“Or someone else.”

“Duh. If someone was with him, wouldn’t they have called for help?” asked Myrtle.

Dave simply lifted an eyebrow.

“Surely you don’t think this was a murder!” I blurted.

“I have to treat it as a crime scene until we know otherwise.”

A beaming couple with pleased smiles hurried toward us. “Is this the next victim?” asked the man.

Dave stared at them, clearly appalled.

Thankfully Val had her wits about her. “No. I’m so sorry. This isn’t part of the mystery weekend.”

Although snowflakes continued to fall, the sky was growing lighter. More people were gathering around to see what was happening.

“Folks,” said Dave, “I need you to step back, please. Sir! Please stay on the sidewalk!”

How could we get people to stop tromping on the snow in what I now feared might be the scene of someone’s death? There was only one solution. I pointed toward the inn. “Free
coffee for everyone at the Sugar Maple Inn this morning. And in just a short while, we’ll be giving away a secret about the location of a weapon.”

Val glared at me, her eyes wide. “You’re giving away secrets?”

“I had to do something to get them away from here.”

“How do you know the weapons haven’t already been found?”

I hadn’t thought that part through. “Surely not all of them have been discovered yet. Besides, I can peek to see if the candlestick is where I left it.” I hoped it was still there.

Surprisingly, almost everyone except Myrtle and Weegie hurried toward the inn. Either they were desperate for that weapon or they were as cold as I was. I looked down at poor Trixie. Her little paws must be chilled to the bone.

Myrtle coughed politely. “Um, could I have the bottle back now?”

“Myrtle! For heaven’s sake. Someone died,” hissed Weegie.

“Don’t you get it? It’s an act. If this guy is real, then why did he have a game piece in his lap? They’re putting us on.”

“I can see why you would think that,” said Val, “but I’m in charge of Murder Most Howl, and I can assure you that this is not part of the game.”

Honestly, Myrtle looked at us so innocently that I wondered if she understood what was happening. Val turned to Dave with her palms up as if she was pleading with him, but I knew he wouldn’t give up the bottle.

“How about this?” I offered. “You can’t have that weapon but Val and I will come up with a replacement for it. That way you won’t lose out on the power of having a weapon. Give us an hour or two?”

Myrtle scowled at me but Weegie said, “That sounds fair. I’m freezing anyway. And look at poor Puddin’, she’s shaking, even in her wool coat! C’mon, Myrtle. Let’s have breakfast. You got what you wanted.”

I was relieved to see emergency medical technicians calmly striding toward us. I unzipped my jacket, picked up Trixie, held her close, and wrapped the jacket around her. Val and I backed away to give the EMTs room. There was no mistaking their astonishment.

The tallest one scratched the back of his neck. “In all my years I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Another one worked at unzipping the navy blue jacket. He slid his hand inside the man’s clothing but shook his head.