Murder, She Barked

I pulled up a chair and realized that a third, unused mug rested on the table along with a napkin, silverware, and a plate. They had expected me.

“Of course I believe you!” Oma spoke sympathetically. “Never mind him. Children can be so bossy. Mine treat me like I’ve gone daft. I’m not a doddering fool yet. Don’t give it another thought.” Oma hung up the phone. “That was Ellie Pierce, Jerry’s mother.”

I nearly choked on my chicken salad. His poor mother!

Oma sipped her tea. “She’s beside herself about losing Dolce last night. Jerry was quite hard on her.”

Rose poured tea for me and passed me the mug. “Eat slowly, dear, so you won’t choke. I’m telling you, Liesel, Jerry has gotten out of hand. He thinks someone made him the King of Wagtail. He had the nerve to tell me I had too many roses along my fence and that the blooms are not—” Rose changed to a whiny tone meant to mimic Jerry “—allowed to cross the fence line.” She leaned forward. “My prize roses!”

I swallowed and washed the chicken salad down with tea. Clearly they didn’t know about Jerry’s death yet.

Oma roared. “The next thing you know, he’ll be out there with pruning shears, clipping off the roses that dare to peek over the fence. He sent Ellie a notice that she had put out decorative pumpkins too soon—his own mother!”

“He’s dead,” I hacked.

Thirteen

“He may be pompous and imperial, but that’s no reason to kill him.” Oma dabbed her lips with a napkin.

“You don’t understand. Someone did kill him. Holmes found him.”

Now I had their attention.

“This is not funny, Holly.” Oma scolded me like I was a child.

“I’m not being funny. Somebody bashed in the back of his head and strangled him with a dog’s choke collar. It was . . . horrific.”

“No, liebchen. It’s Sven who died. Ellie would never have complained about Jerry the way she did if he was dead. Besides, she would have told me immediately.” Oma leaned toward us. “Ellie thinks someone opened her gate on purpose to steal Dolce.”

I put down my fork. “Ellie probably doesn’t know yet. I just came from there.”

Rose and Oma stared at me. Oma reached for her phone.

“I don’t know how well you know Ellie, but I’d let the police tell her if I were you.” I drained my tea and poured more into the mug.

Oma set her phone down. “No. This is a joke?”

“It’s not a joke. Who jokes about something like that? He was . . .” I debated whether I should tell them the gory details or spare them. Wagtail was tiny, they would hear eventually. “He was sprawled on the stairs, like he was running away from something.”

Rose gasped. “A ghost! I knew that old house was haunted. He laughed it off every time I mentioned it.” She let out a little shriek. “It’s cursed. Now there have been two deaths there.”

I knew Oma and Rose took a different view of the supernatural than I did. More specifically, I just didn’t believe in ghosts. It was all nonsense and hogwash. I knew better than to criticize them for their stand, though. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, which I hope conveyed skepticism at the very least. “Would he have bled if a ghost attacked him?”

“Of course. The ghosts might not bleed, but we would.” Rose spoke with conviction.

“What is happening here? This is not like my beloved Wagtail. Not at all. Rose,” said Oma, “I don’t think we’re dealing with a ghost this time. Someone killed Sven, and now Jerry. This cannot be a coincidence.”

“Our meeting! I forgot all about it,” exclaimed Rose, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Rose, we’ll call Ellie after the meeting, yes? Holly, would you mind keeping an eye on the desk?” Oma stood up.

“Not at all. Do you mind if I borrow your computer?”

“It’s a deal.” She hobbled toward me and glanced around. “Where’s your dog?”

I told them my tale of woe in abbreviated form.

Oma couldn’t have looked sadder. “Perhaps someone will find her. We will spread the word,” Patting my shoulder, she said, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the terrace.” She scowled at me. “We will be fine, Holly. Don’t look so worried. You can leave as soon as Zelda returns from her lunch break.”

They left through the French doors. Oma hobbled slowly, with Rose by her side. Their heads were bowed, but their agitated murmurs drifted to me as they made their way toward the terrace, where guests enjoyed the beautiful day and views of the lake and the mountains.

It didn’t take long to whip up a flier. When the printer started, Twinkletoes ambled indoors and sprang onto the desk. Fascinated by the paper that churned out of it, she reached a tentative paw toward it every time a new sheet appeared.

“I’m back from my lunch break, Mrs. Mil—” An attractive, ever-so-slightly-plump woman in her thirties with kind eyes and corn yellow hair that flowed down her back stepped into the doorway. “Oh! You must be Holly. I recognize you from your picture.” She pointed at a framed photo behind me.

I peered at it. My cousin Josh, Holmes, and I were posing on the dock. “I must have been about eight years old.”