Murder, She Barked

She placed a comforting hand on my arm. “We’re all rooting for you, by the way. Would you like me to spill a pot of coffee on her?”

It took me a second to realize she meant Kim. I giggled. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a feeling she has much bigger troubles. It’s nice to know you’ve got my back, though.”

Ben accosted me as soon as I returned to the table. “This isn’t your grandmother’s dog?”

I swear she lifted her lip at him, showing him tiny front teeth. “She’s mine. She still needs a name, though.”

“Trouble,” muttered Ben.

Kim laughed, but I dug into my breakfast. Now that she was back, I had every intention of keeping her. The subject was not open to discussion or negotiation.

Happily, the conversation moved to the subject of Kim’s father, Mortie. Oma knew him fairly well and gave the impression of liking him.

“So, Kim, what do you do that you’re able to take time off to come up here?” I asked in between bites of salted, slightly spicy potatoes, crispy on the outside but soft and warm inside.

She held her coffee mug in both hands and rested her elbows on the table. “I work for myself. I’m a day trader.”

“Apparently, a pretty good one,” said Ben. “She’s given Mortie some great tips.”

She waved him off, like she was embarrassed, but she moistened her lip with her tongue and tossed her hair back.

Shelley brought me a fresh pot of hot water, leaned over, and whispered, “Chloe will meet you at Café Shot at eleven.”

I could hardly wait. For some reason that I didn’t understand, I felt the need to be rid of Ben and Kim for that event. It didn’t make sense to me that I should feel that way. I chalked it up to instinct.

After breakfast, I rushed Kim and Ben out to the front porch, where Gingersnap made a beeline for them. Kim rubbed her head and told her what a pretty girl she was.

Ben grabbed my hand. “Holl, we need to talk.”

People never had anything good or happy to say when they broke it to you like that. He would undoubtedly pressure me to give away the adorable dog. No way.

“Maybe later. Excuse me.” I hurried to the reception desk to call Dave.

“So this is your scamp!” Zelda rubbed the dog behind her ears while I left a message for Dave. “What about naming her Scamp? She’s certainly been up to tricks.”

Her ears perked up.

“Or Scampi? She’s a little shrimp,” said Zelda.

I hung up the phone and tried it out. “Scampi? Is that your name?”

“Scampi!” called Oma, bending and holding her hand out to her.

But the scamp didn’t budge. She just stood there, wagging her tail. Not that I blamed her. I’d been called a shrimp plenty of times and had never particularly liked it.

Zelda circled her hand under her chin again. “She’s thrilled to be home.”

You didn’t have to be a psychic to figure that out. Zelda struck me as a lovely person, but I found it hard to believe that people paid her for that kind of insight.

“She says her name is Bad Dog.”

Oma turned away quickly to hide a smile.

“I’m not naming a dog Bad Dog!” Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. “What else did you say a minute ago?” I asked. “She liked something.”

“Hmm. I said she’d been up to tricks.”

And just like that, she ran to Zelda.

“Trixie. That’s her name.” I knelt and called out, “Trixie, come!”

Clearly thrilled by the attention, she dashed to me, her tail wagging so hard that I didn’t need Zelda to interpret her thoughts.

I reached down to pat her. “No more Bad Dog. You’re Trixie now.” She cocked her head to the side and held up her right paw. I shook it. We had a deal.

Oma laughed and retreated to her office.

I whispered to Zelda. “Keep an eye on Oma for me? I have an appointment.”

“Eleven at Café Shot.”

“How could you possibly have known that?”

She shrugged and said, “I’m psychic.”

I narrowed an eye and gave her a skeptical look.

She bounced up on her toes and then down again. “Okay. Chloe called me. She wanted to know about you.”

Of course. The people who worked at the inn were hardwired into each other’s lives. “What did you tell her?”

“That you are exactly like your grandmother.”

People had said worse things about me. “Can I take Trixie into Café Shot?”

“Honey, there isn’t anywhere in Wagtail that you can’t take Trixie. That’s what we’re all about.”

I waved and left through the reception door to avoid walking by Kim and Ben on the front porch. They’d see me strolling up the shopping area if they were paying attention. There wasn’t much I could do about that.

A lovely, wide brick walkway lined on both sides by manicured shrubs led us to The Blue Boar. We dodged around the front of the restaurant and walked as fast as I could go. There wasn’t much doubt in my mind that Trixie would have dashed ahead if she weren’t on a leash. How would she ever get enough exercise if I couldn’t take her off the leash? This baby needed to run. Dog school was definitely in order.

I passed cafés and restaurants with outdoor tables. Why hadn’t I asked Zelda for the exact location of Café Shot?

A woman browsed at books on rolling shelves outside of Tall Tails Bookstore.