Murder, She Barked

The dog’s situation was certainly more dire than mine. In a couple of hours, I would be in my grandmother’s inn, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe and sneaking something delicious from the kitchen.

I wiped water off my cheek. My own precious yellow lab had succumbed to old age about the time I met Ben. Every day I drove by the animal shelter on my way to work and thought about adopting a dog. When I’d mentioned it to Ben, he’d nixed the idea, insisting we didn’t have time for a dog in our lives. Maybe we didn’t . . .

I sighed. Except for my grandmother’s dog, they weren’t allowed in the inn. “I . . . I can’t take her with me.” My words faded at the end of the sentence. I wanted to take her. I wanted to rescue her from her miserable life.

“If you don’t, she’ll get hit by a car or shot.”

“Shot? Who would shoot a harmless little dog?”

“Sooner or later she’s gonna go for somebody’s chickens. Darlin’, just take her with you. It’s karma, you know. That little girl knows something we don’t. Lots of cars come by here every day. There’s a reason she picked you.”

I suspected the unceasing rain was probably the driving force behind her choice, but I just nodded my head and hurried back to the car. If nothing else, I would find a home for her.

When I opened the car door and lights illuminated the interior, I looked closely at the muddy yellowish dog with black ears, a black spot on her rump, an orange muzzle, and a Dorito clenched between her teeth. A Jack Russell terrier, I guessed. Her lively, intelligent eyes and body shape certainly suggested that.

The bag of Doritos had been ripped open, and orangey chips lay on the seats, carpet, and middle console. If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d managed to chew the lid off my coffee and spill the entire contents on the carpet.

Her eyes reminded me of a baby seal’s. Rimmed in black, with sweet white lashes, they studied me, waiting for my reaction. I burst out laughing. This day couldn’t get any worse. It was either laugh or cry, and I always preferred laughter.

I bought more Doritos, another cup of makeshift café au lait, and a roll of paper towels.

The dog promptly retreated to the backseat when I opened the passenger door and cleaned the mess she had made. Like the suede shoes I wore, the carpet would never recuperate. “Ben is not going to be happy about this,” I told her.

Water squished out of my wool skirt when I settled into the driver’s seat for the last two-hour leg of the trip. Trying to ignore the discomfort of sitting on waterlogged wool, I put the car into gear and headed out on the nearly deserted road.

Ben would never loan me his car again. He hadn’t had much choice when my phone rang during the tour of his boss’s vineyard. During the drive there, he’d asked me not to mention my employment issues. Issues, he’d called them! I got the message, though. The vineyard invitation was about him and his future with Mortie Foster’s law firm. He needed to put his best foot forward. I wasn’t offended. I understood the importance to him, and he deserved my support. But then he’d said something that blew my hopes to smithereens.

“They will all find out soon enough that you’re persona non grata in the fund-raising community.”

It wasn’t as though I hadn’t realized it somewhere deep in my subconscious. But when he said it out loud like that, I had visions of whispers about Holly Miller spreading like the threads of a spider web. No matter that I had been in the right—no one wanted a troublemaker. Finding a new job might not be as easy as I had hoped.

I’d put on a happy face, though, for Ben’s sake. Not the easiest thing to do considering the way his boss’s daughter, Kim, had latched onto him. Easily ten or twelve years younger than Ben and me, probably still in her twenties, her bottle blonde hair curled like she’d just romped in bed. Her upper lip curled, too, suggesting a doctor had plumped it up.

Jacqui Foster, his boss’s wife, had clutched Ben’s arm and snuggled up to him. “I always thought our Kim would marry Ben,” she’d said. “They made such a cute couple when they were dating.”

A fine time to learn he had dated Kim. Didn’t Ben know he was supposed to tell a person when she was going into enemy territory?

Jacqui had lifted my left hand to examine my ring. For a moment, I’d thought she might pull out a jeweler’s loupe to study it more precisely. “What, no engagement ring yet?”

Translation: Kim, there’s still hope!

No one could confuse the little band of five square-cut emeralds I wore on my middle finger with an engagement ring. Could she have been more obvious?

We had just finished dinner when my phone rang. Ben had shot me a look that could have fried an egg. “I thought we agreed no phones tonight,” he’d hissed. Under his disapproving glare, I excused myself to take the phone call.

“Holly, honey? Is that you?”

I hadn’t recognized the voice.

“It’s Rose, sweetheart. I think you ought to come to Wagtail as soon as you can.”