Murder, She Barked

The dog trotted alongside me to the bedroom and never let me out of her sight. Not even while I took the world’s quickest shower. She positioned herself outside the bathroom door, which I left open for her benefit. I blew my hair halfway dry, leaving it straight and simple.

My meager selection of clothes couldn’t match Kim’s designer outfit. I decided on the khaki trousers with a sleeveless white turtleneck. It wouldn’t win any fashion awards, but it was quintessential daytime attire for Wagtail.

Filled with joy at having my little friend back, I looped the leash under her collar, and the two of us went to breakfast.

Oma cried out and clapped her hands together when she saw the dog. “Where did you find her?”

As if she understood, the Jack Russell tugged me to Oma and reached up to her to be petted.

Kim fussed over her, too.

Even Shelley raced to us. “I’m so glad she’s back!” She bent to the dog. “You must be starved. How about a nice bracing bowl of oatmeal with chicken and apples?” Looking my way, she added, “Our special today is two eggs over easy, with home fries, buttered toast, and bacon. We also serve a dog version of that.”

The dog would probably be happy with anything. “We’ll both have that. And a pot of tea for me, please.”

Ben seemed surprised. “That’s a hearty breakfast.”

“You weren’t out climbing a mountain this morning.” Maybe that was too defensive. “I can’t believe you drove all the way up here!” It blew me away. Ben didn’t even miss work if he had a cold, but he’d taken time off to be with me. That meant a lot. Zelda had to be wrong.

“Daddy insisted.” Kim nibbled at a blueberry muffin.

“There’s an issue with a car that belonged to Mortie,” explained Ben. “I need to speak to an Officer Dave Quinlan.”

“This is work?” So much for thinking he’d come because of me. On the other hand, maybe he’d used the car as an excuse to talk Mortie into sending him up here. “You must be beat after driving all night.”

“It wasn’t so bad. We arrived around midnight.” Kim chugged black coffee.

“Midnight?” Where had they slept?

Ben speared a piece of kiwi on his plate. “A fine young fellow named Casey put me in a room called Chew.”

“I thought he should come with me. I hate being in the cabin all alone.” Kim wrinkled her nose. “It’s not too far from here by golf cart, though.”

Shelley brought me a pot of water and English Breakfast tea bags.

I poured the steaming water into a mug, dunked a tea bag into it, and added milk and sugar. “I’ll call Dave to let him know that you’re here.”

“Your grandmother has been telling us about these horrible crimes. I don’t know if he’ll have much time for us with two murders on his hands.” Kim pushed a lock of expertly curled hair off her face.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to say it. “I think Dave will have time for you since it was your father’s car that killed Sven.”

Guilt swelled through me as soon as I spoke.

Kim turned green and sputtered coffee onto her plate. “It was stolen! He reported it stolen weeks ago.”

Ben turned to her and spoke with steely determination. “What did we talk about on the way up here? You don’t say anything to anyone about this.”

“But we’re among friends.”

Ben remained calm, but I heard the exasperation in his tone. “Everyone includes friends, too. How hard is that to understand?”

Kim tucked her chin in, like a scolded child. An appropriate response, I thought. Ben didn’t need to be so harsh with her. Unless . . . unless she was involved in some way.

She couldn’t have been the driver. She’d been with us when the call came from Rose. How would I react if I knew my father’s car had been used to kill someone? I’d probably turn green, too.

That reminded me of Ben’s car and the mess inside it. I had to get it cleaned—pronto! And I had to talk to Oma, or perhaps to Zelda or Shelley. Maybe they knew more about the phone call regarding Dolce the night Sven was killed.

Shelley delivered my breakfast and a cute tiny version for the dog—one egg surrounded by a few home fries, sprinkled with bits of bacon. A teensy wedge of toast stood at an angle as a garnish.

The dog ate like she was starved, but I left my meal for a moment, made an excuse, and followed Shelley to the kitchen.

Her wavy hair, the color of light brown sugar, was pulled back into a loose bun again. Small tendrils around her face had worked their way loose. Her skin was like porcelain. Whispering, I asked if she was working the night Sven was killed.

“I worked that day, but I left in the afternoon. Is something up?”

“I’m just trying to get some things straight in my head, that’s all. I thought you might know more about the phone call regarding Dolce.”

“Chloe would know. She was working that night. Would you like me to call her?”

“Chloe? Sven’s girlfriend?”

“I don’t know that it had gone that far, but they were working toward it. She’s a friend of mine. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“That would be great. Thanks, Shelley.”