Murder, She Barked

“Not unless you find the heathen who took my Jerry’s life.”

“I’m sure Dave is working on that.”

“Dave.” She spoke his name like an exasperated schoolteacher. “He’s a very nice boy. Always was. He’s a big help when someone is hurt on a trail or loses a purse. But he doesn’t know anything about murder. Right now, as we speak, Jerry’s killer lurks somewhere among us, probably enjoying a hearty lunch and laughing to himself about Dave’s inexperience.”

I should have felt for Ellie, for her loss. But at that very moment, I sympathized with Dave. He was a nice guy. That didn’t mean he was incompetent.

“Maybe Wagtail is lucky to have him. I can’t imagine anyone who would try harder to find Jerry’s killer.”

A familiar voice accosted us. “As I live and breathe, Holly Miller! My second-closest living blood relative arrives in town, and I have to find out about it from strangers.”

That voice grated on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. I shivered. There was no point in defending myself. Aunt Birdie would only twist whatever I said. My mother’s older half sister never let me forget that I had brought great shame upon the family name by having the nerve to be conceived while my parents were still in their senior year of high school, thus necessitating their hasty marriage.

I pasted on a big smile and held my arms out for a hug.

High cheekbones jutted out of her bony face. The streak of silver in the part of her mahogany hair was new to me. Did she not realize that it was frighteningly reminiscent of Cruella De Vil?

She bent to embrace me. “Still short like your father’s side of the family, I see.”

Really? Did she really expect me to keep growing taller in my thirties? “It’s good to see you.”

“Obviously not good enough,” she said crisply, “or you would have had the decency to call on me.”

I faked distress. “You know I would have dropped by but these murders have just thrown everyone for a loop.”

“They don’t concern you.” She directed her attention to Ellie. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” She didn’t sound sorry. If her words had been any icier, they would have frozen in midair as they left her mouth.

“Thank you, Birdie.”

Birdie’s hawk-like gaze drifted down to Trixie, who backed away from her as far as her leash could go. “I certainly hope that’s one of Liesel’s beasts. She’s made quite a pigsty of this town with that ridiculous pet friendly business. I’ve a mind to move.”

Wagtail residents would probably take up a hefty collection to assist with moving expenses if she were serious. “This is my dog, Trixie.”

“Does your mother know about this? I swear Liesel is a bad influence on you. I’ve always thought so. I told your mother that no good would come of shipping you out here to Liesel every summer. You should have stayed with me, where you would have learned proper manners and decorum.”

Ellie made a production of looking at her watch. “My goodness, Holly! Didn’t you say that you promised Liesel you would be back at the inn by one? You’d better get going, honey.”

I fell in step with her game, flashing her a grateful smile. I owed her a big favor for this. “Oh dear! Must go. I’ll see you both later.” I turned quickly and hustled away before Aunt Birdie could demand I stay.

“Your mother is going to hear about this, young lady!” Birdie shouted.

The woman could not give up. I had never heard her utter a kind word. Everything that came out of her mouth dripped with dissatisfaction. Truth be told, she was an attractive woman. But bitterness pinched her face, and that wicked tongue of hers lashed out constantly. My mom insisted that Birdie hadn’t always been so caustic. Their parents had moved to California around the time my parents divorced. My mom packed us up and moved to be near them, but Birdie staunchly remained in Wagtail. Behind her back, my dad called her the wicked witch of Wagtail.

I should have called her yesterday, but with everything that had happened, I’d honestly forgotten all about her. Once I had everything with Oma straightened out, I’d go by with a basket of muffins or a box of chocolates.

Oma’s situation weighed heavily on me. My instinct to sleep on her sofa the night I arrived had been on the mark, only for a different reason. My worst suspicions had been confirmed. If Ellie hadn’t realized that Dolce was running loose, then the person who called the inn to say she needed help had very likely done so to lure Oma to Ellie’s house. Otherwise, wouldn’t he or she have called Ellie? That person must have waited in the cover of darkness and the heavy fog and then unwittingly killed Sven.

We picked up speed and dodged visitors as we returned to the inn. Ben spotted me in the foyer and called out my name.

Rather rudely, I shouted, “Later!” and whipped along the corridor and down to the reception area. The door to Oma’s office was closed.

Zelda looked up at me. “Sorry, you can’t go in right now. She’s with Mr. Luciano.”

Twenty-three