Murder, She Barked

In minutes, I tumbled into bed, ecstatic to see that Oma still used the luxurious down comforters and featherbeds that I remembered. They fluffed up around me like a comforting cocoon.

When I finally rested my head on the down pillow, the dog crept up onto my chest. I ran my hand along the rough fur on her back, wondering if I would be able to sleep with a dog on top of me.

Seven

Apparently not. As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts kept returning to Oma. I should have pressed her to tell me what was wrong with her. Not knowing might be worse than the truth because I imagined all sorts of terrible things.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the man I’d seen on the road and the fire. I’d managed to wash the smell out of my hair, but the image of the flames came back to me every time I closed my eyes.

When the first rays of sunshine announced a new day, I stretched and gently moved my doggy friend to the side, even though I’d barely slept. I wrapped the robe around me, and ventured to the balcony.

A wrought iron railing arced around my little vantage point above Wagtail. The area below was just waking up. The mist from the rain had cleared, leaving a blissfully crisp fall morning. I inhaled the clean mountain air.

They say you can never go home again. Except for the first few years of my life, Wagtail hadn’t really been my home, yet I found myself smiling and curiously happy to be back. In the distance, graceful mountain ridges seemed to undulate in green waves. Farther away, the waves turned to blue with wisps of white clouds rising into the sky.

Maybe my contentment sprang from temporarily leaving my job troubles behind.

No, it was more than that. I didn’t hear any traffic. No trash trucks chugged through the streets. No horns blared. Birds twittered in the trees, and even though the town stretched out in front of me, it was blissfully quiet and serene.

The stores were still closed, but a few joggers and brisk walkers exercised, every single one of them accompanied by a dog, or two, or three.

Originally a resort built around crystal clear natural springs, Wagtail’s waters had drawn guests for their healing powers. Stores and hotels had catered to wealthy visitors. Even today, the center of town remained a pedestrian zone, free of cars and exhaust.

Adorable stores and restaurants lined the sides of the walking area. Wide sidewalks provided ample space for pedestrians, benches for the weary, and outdoor tables at restaurants. In the center, a green grassy section stretched away from me. Trees lined the sides, and a charming gazebo graced the center.

Beyond the pedestrian zone, the roofs of quaint houses made for a picturesque scene, with chimneys rising above the rooflines.

Eager to see Oma, I ironed my silk blouse in a hurry. It would never be the same. I doubted that even a talented dry cleaner could remove the stains, and there I was, ironing them so they’d be set in the fabric. Unfortunately, I now knew why my suit was dry-clean only. The wool had shrunk, but the lining hadn’t. The jacket wasn’t fully dry, so I canned that immediately. The lining now draped below the skirt, and caused the material to tug and pucker. I had no makeup except for the lipstick in my purse. My suede shoes had stiffened but I jammed my feet into them because they were all I had. After I checked on Oma, I would have to take a stroll through town and buy a few things to tide me over.

My hair kinked from sleeping on it wet. I brushed it into a ponytail, one of the benefits of long hair on bad hair days. How good could a person look in a stained blouse, no makeup, and a dry-clean-only skirt that had air-dried and shrunk? I looped the leash on the dog’s collar and hurried out to the elevator.

The kitten pranced to the elevator with us and readily boarded it as though she’d been riding elevators her whole life.

The dog hesitated. She didn’t want to enter the elevator again. Silly girl. I picked her up, and she squirmed when the elevator doors shut. At least she hadn’t soiled in the inn. I set her down. Terrified, she froze.

When the doors opened, she shot out.

The kitten danced past her, headed toward the registration desk.

We followed Twinkletoes and proceeded outdoors, where I found a very thoughtfully placed doggie restroom. The dog still seemed a bit confused by the constraint of the leash, but she did what she needed to, and we headed back inside to more familiar territory in the main part of the inn. The dog readily trotted along with me. She paused now and then for a sniff, but who could blame her for that?

Oma had knocked down some walls, opening the Dogwood Room, the main gathering room, into the old lobby area. The huge stone fireplace remained, along with the rustic pine mantel that I remembered. I paused in front of the grand staircase. Opposite it, the original entrance of the inn fronted on Wagtail’s pedestrian zone. The Dogwood Room lay to my left and a corridor led away to the new reception area.