Murder, She Barked

Across the room, a woman scrutinized me. She had an angular body and a face with sharp eyes that didn’t observe me kindly. She made her way over. Golden bangles jangled on her wrists. She wore giant pearl earrings that stood out against hair set so tightly that it didn’t move. She was about the age of my mother, so I guessed that the brassy orange hair wasn’t her original color.

“If it isn’t Holly Miller.” She didn’t extend her arms for a hug or a hand to shake. “I’d heard you were in town.”

Her voice jogged memories. I had a vague notion of running away from her and not being as fast as Josh and Holmes.

I forced a smile and said, “How nice to see you.” Why didn’t I have a better memory for names and people? It was too embarrassing. Hoping she might mention her own name, I said nothing more. The ball was in her court.

She tsked at me. “I spent the better part of the afternoon removing your fliers.” She lifted her chin as though she thought she was superior. “We don’t litter in Wagtail.”

“That wasn’t littering. Some idiot woman at Putting On the Dog removed my dog’s collar and pinched her behind. Who does something like that? Now she’s lost. I need those fliers to let people know to be on the lookout for her.”

“Well, I never! You’re as rude and horrible as your grandmother. I see your mother didn’t bother teaching you any social graces.”

She turned abruptly and stalked away, holding her head so high that it tilted backward.

Holmes ambled toward me. “What did you do to upset Peaches?”

Now there was a name I recognized. “That’s Peaches Clodfelter?” She had certainly changed in appearance, though she had always possessed that haughty demeanor. “Wow. She’s aged!”

“Technically, I guess she’s Peaches Clodfelter Wiggins now.”

“She married Old Man Wiggins?”

“That she did. Her fourth husband. Makes a person wonder what kind of magic she wields over men.”

“How do you know all this stuff? I don’t remember most of these people.”

“I went to school here. Plus, I come back more often because my whole family lives in Wagtail.” He paused for a moment, his eyes on the floor. “I’ve spent quite some time here over the last couple of years because my dad was sick. I flew back and forth from Wagtail to Chicago for a while, then finally took a leave of absence and stuck around here until things settled down. He’s fine now, though.” Holmes’s face brightened, and he smirked. “You need to catch up so you won’t keep offending people when you talk about Prissy.”

It came to me in a flash. My face burned, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. “The tall woman who pinched my dog—that was Prissy Clodfelter!”

He bobbed his head. “And she’s dating Dave.”

I wanted to shrink into a little ball, roll across the floor, and fall into a hole. I had been ugly about her to Dave and to her mother.

“It’s not surprising that you didn’t recognize Prissy. Who’d have thought a kid would change so much? But she’s just like her mother—thinks she’s Wagtail royalty.”

“Now that they’re officially Wigginses, it’s no wonder that they think that. They could buy and sell just about everyone in this town.”

“They complain a lot about being kept on a tight budget, but he set them up in that store, and it couldn’t have been cheap.”

“But Prissy answered my 911 call.”

“Dave got her that job at the headquarters over on Snowball. She only works there on weekends.”

Rose edged up to us. “We’re shooing everyone out for a bit. Ellie needs some rest.”

Oma and Rose managed to empty the house in minutes.

Holmes and I stepped outside with Gingersnap and waited for them. Across the street, a sturdy fellow raked grass clippings.

Holmes waved at him. “Remember Tiny Goodwin?”

He might have been Tiny once, but he’d caught up. “He played football, right?”

“Star of the team. He was a celebrated guy around here in those days.”

We crossed the street. “I guess you heard about Jerry,” said Holmes.

Tiny gripped his rake with both hands. “Aw, man, it’s terrible. I’ll go ’round and pay my respects to his mom tomorrow.”

His eyes squeezed to slits. “Holly Miller? I heard you were in town.”

“Hi, Tiny. Just visiting my grandmother. I hear you’ve got a tree house that’s upsetting Aunt Birdie.”

He snorted. “I built it for my kids. My wife has custody so I don’t see ’em much. I knew they’d get a kick out of it.”

“The fancy one with blue doors and the balcony with cutout pickets that look like cat silhouettes?” asked Holmes.

“That’s the one. I think it came out right pretty. But you know Birdie. She says it’s too close to her property because we’re not s’posed to build anything within fifteen feet of the neighbor’s lot. The base of the tree is seventeen feet from her line, but up high, she says the tree house encroaches in the fifteen-foot zone. Now, you tell me–how’d she get up there to measure it in the air? It’s not on her property no matter what she says.”