Murder, She Barked

“It wasn’t a ghost!” For heaven’s sake, what was wrong with these people? It was one thing to tell a fun ghost story, but they were adults. “I’m the one who was there. Come on, you guys don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

Silence. Once again I’d put my foot in my mouth and chomped down hard.

Philip flicked a finger on the table. “I didn’t believe in them until I moved to Wagtail.” He leaned in toward us and whispered, “There’s one in Brewster’s house. I’ve seen her at night in the tiny window upstairs.”

Tiny nodded vigorously. “Wagtail is loaded with them. You should know that, Holly.”

“Come on! You’re all big boys. You can’t be serious. I never believed in ghosts.” I looked to Holmes for help.

“Haven’t you ever experienced something that couldn’t be explained?” he asked.

He was on their side! Oh no. Not Holmes! “Everything has a rational explanation,” I said calmly.

The three of them smiled like Mona Lisa. Like they thought they knew something I didn’t. I sipped my Irish coffee, tasted the cream, and felt the warmth as it went down.

Philip looked at Tiny and asked, “So what’s the scuttlebutt on Jerry’s killer? Do the cops have any leads?”

Tiny slugged back his beer and wiped his mouth with his wrist. “Not that I know about.”

“Really? You’re usually on top of local gossip,” said Philip.

“I get around and keep an ear to the ground.” Tiny grinned, evidently pleased to be acknowledged as an expert on local matters. “Ole Jerry liked to act above his raisin’ and pretend he was better’n the rest of us. There’s more’n one person had an axe to grind with him.”

“How about Sven?” I asked.

Tiny clutched his beer bottle between his fleshy hands. “They’re sayin’ it was somebody from Snowball. Probably kids that got drunk.”

That didn’t seem right. Kids who got drunk, killed someone, and then threw the car off the mountain? Now that I considered it, maybe it did make sense. They probably panicked. Was it a kid that I saw that night? I thought better of mentioning it again, given their belief that it had been a ghost.

Philip raised an eyebrow. “I heard from a very reliable source that Old Lady Miller knows who the killer is. They’re keeping it quiet so the killer won’t find out.”

I nearly blurted out that Oma most certainly did not know the identity of the killer but stopped myself and drank my Irish coffee. Was that why she had been acting so odd? Did she know who killed Sven?

“Gentlemen, I hate to break up this party, but I rolled into town pretty late last night.” I dug some bills out of my purse and shoved them toward Holmes. “If any of you see my little white dog, you’ll call me at the inn?”

They assured me they would. I rose to leave, and Holmes stood up as well.

“I’ll walk you back.”

I debated briefly. I was in the pedestrian zone, and it wasn’t terribly late, so there should be plenty of people milling around. “You stay and have a good time. I’ll be fine.”

He tilted his head. “With everything that has happened—”

Tiny looked up at us. “She’ll be okay. Ain’t nobody got a beef with her.”

I didn’t think anyone had issues with Sven, either. Nevertheless, I pulled out my cell phone and said, “No problem. I can call for help in a snap.”

That set the three of them into hysterics.

“What did I miss?” I asked.

Philip grinned. “Cell phones get very spotty reception up here in the mountains. There’s only one carrier that works with any regularity. It drives my guests crazy. Their cell phones never receive a signal inside my B and Bs. But my cell phone is like a beacon in the tower room of my house. I get five bars every time.”

“I guess I have the right carrier then. I called 911 last night out on the road,” I said smugly.

“A lucky break. Sometimes when I can’t get a signal, I walk twenty feet away, and suddenly my cell phone works fine. You’ll do best close to some of the cafés that offer free Wi-Fi.”

“With that reassuring news, I bid you all a good night.” I slid the phone into my purse and left.

The outdoor tables still teemed with people having a great time. The walk became darker as I headed toward the main part of the car-free zone, but I didn’t feel in the least bit afraid. Lights shone in the windows of lovely homes, and I encountered several people out walking their dogs.

I turned onto the shopping area, surprised to find that it still buzzed with business. Stores were open and chatter came from restaurants.

The night had grown too chilly for my sleeveless dress, though. I hurried back to the inn, gorgeous and romantic at the end of the plaza, its lights glowing a warm welcome.

Twinkletoes sat on the front stairs of the porch. She mewed and mewed like she was crying and ran to me.

I swept her up and nuzzled her. But instead of purring, she fidgeted and mewed complaints.

When I set her on the ground, she circled my ankles, winding in and out, making it nearly impossible to walk.

“What is with you?” I lifted her again and trotted up the steps.