Murder, She Barked

“Don’t you find it suspicious that he conveniently disappeared at that exact time?”

“Then who killed Jerry?”

“Lord, now there’s a question. Could have been just about anybody. I know Rose and Holmes are friends of yours, but all the Richardsons were just madder than wet cats at Jerry about that land development that he blocked. There are others, too. Brewster was upset with him for trying to move Hair of the Dog out on the highway even though there are other restaurants in town that don’t shut down until late. Jerry’s own mother complained about him!”

She glanced out the window. “I gotta get back to my tables, but just one more quick thing—you know that girl, Kim, that came in for breakfast? Her dad, Mortie, comes by the inn to see Mrs. Miller every time he’s in town. He always brings her flowers.”

She jumped up and returned to the terrace, all smiles and southern graciousness.

My head reeled from all the information she had spewed at me. Especially the part about Oma and Mortie. He was a good bit younger than Oma. I couldn’t imagine it was anything romantic. But flowers? That was hard to interpret in a different way.

I finished my burger and tea, told Trixie to stay, which I didn’t imagine she understood, took my dirty dishes into the kitchen, and stacked them to be washed.

Happily, Trixie had waited by the door. I patted her and rewarded her with a mini treat for being so good.

She readily went with me to meet the bride and her parents, who had brought along a short-haired red dachshund and a black lab who would be the ring bearer at the wedding.

Trixie chased and played with the Wheeler dogs as we strolled the lawn. I had seen enough weddings at the inn to be able to describe where the tent would go and where the bands usually set up. The lake cooperated by sparkling in the sunlight, the perfect opportunity for me to tell them how romantic it was when a full moon shone its beams on the water.

“It must be wonderful to live here,” said Mrs. Wheeler. “I’d love to take my little Schatzi everywhere with me.”

Mr. Wheeler nodded in agreement. “Not to mention the lack of traffic and noise. It’s so peaceful.”

If they only knew about the troubling undercurrents! But once the murderers had been arrested, Wagtail would be a charming place to live again. No wonder Holmes kept coming back. No sitting in rush-hour traffic. Clean air. Birds singing in the trees. Dogs and cats everywhere. It wasn’t surprising that the Wheelers liked it. They had left their lives, their problems, and headaches behind.

As Betsy and her parents discussed their plans, I couldn’t help wondering about my own wedding. What was it about weddings that made them so contagious? I pushed thoughts of Ben out of my head. Oma was far more important. I had to get her squared away first.

I led the Wheelers up to the terrace, inside to the dining area, showed off the new library, explained about the special cat rooms, and finally returned them to Oma’s office. They settled on the cushy chairs and the loveseat. Even though I’d recently eaten lunch, I longed to stay because a gorgeous platter of cake slices had magically appeared next to a silver coffee and tea service. Oma’s antique Empress Dresden Flowers china took me back to my childhood.

When I stayed with her, once a week Oma had sent the boys to do something rough-and-tumble, while Oma, my stuffed Steiff dog, Lassie, and I had a little tea party with her exquisite floral china. Colorful flowers rambled around the edges, interrupted by scrolls of gold. It hadn’t been in vogue for a very long time, yet there was something about afternoon tea that called for ornate, girly china.

As I closed the door behind me, I overheard Mr. Wheeler say he would like to book the entire inn for the weekend of the wedding. Whoa. “That’ll be a crazy weekend,” I said to Zelda.

She laughed. “It’s always like that around here. Sometimes I wonder if it’s not too much for Mrs. Miller. She rarely gets a day off. I think the last time she left was when she went to see your dad in Florida.”

Zelda introduced me to her replacement, who gave me a thumbs-up and promised to watch out for Oma. He handed me a pink message slip.

Zelda said apologetically, “He’s called here six times in the last hour.”

“I’m so sorry. I left my cell phone in my room.” I glanced at the message. Ben called. He can’t find Kim. That wasn’t terribly surprising. Something was up with her and that stolen car. I knew she had ditched him.

I used the inn’s phone to call Ben. His cell phone rang and rang, and finally rolled over to voice mail. I left a message.

I reached under the desk and borrowed a leash. “Is there a store in town that doesn’t belong to the Clodfelters where I could buy a collar and tag for Trixie?”

“Loads of them,” said Zelda, “though Prissy’s store is by far the largest and has the biggest selection. Not surprising, since it was funded by Mr. Wiggins. Personally, I like Puppy Love.”