Murder, She Barked

Tiny trudged through the door. Handing me the keys to Ben’s car, he said, “I am really sorry I didn’t have more luck with the carpet. It’s still drying, but I don’t think those stains will ever come out. I tried three different stain removers. I’m afraid it’s as good as it’s ever gonna get.”

“Thanks, Tiny. What do I owe you?”

“Nothin’. I was happy to do it for you.”

“Oh no! You tell me what you charge for that kind of work.”

He stated a fair price, and I hurried upstairs with Trixie for my checkbook and wallet. He still chatted with Zelda on our return. I handed Tiny a check.

“I sure appreciate this.” He rubbed the back of his ear. “Both my kids need braces. Man, but they’re expensive. I need all the odd jobs I can get. You need anything else at all, you just call me.”

I slipped the leash around Trixie’s GPS collar. “Thanks for taking care of that for me, Tiny. Guess I’d better have a look.”

Zelda followed me outside. I opened the car door and stared at coffee-colored and orangey-red blotches that marred the carpet.

I winced. “Do you think it’s expensive to install new carpet in a car?”

“At least the leather seats cleaned up nicely.”

I couldn’t help liking Zelda. She might think she was an animal psychic, but she always seemed to look at the brighter side of life. “You’re absolutely right. How much could new carpet cost? It’s not like a whole room. Right?”

Her eyes big, Zelda lifted her shoulders in a shrug, and the two of us burst into nervous giggles. I picked up Trixie and looked her square in the eyes. “You’d better hope it’s not expensive.”

She wagged her tail and licked my nose. And didn’t look one bit concerned or remorseful.

We walked along the sidewalk to The Blue Boar. Suddenly, Zelda ran her fingers through her hair and fluffed it up. “There’s Philip,” she hissed. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

He stood in front of The Blue Boar, blocking our path and staring toward the inn.

“Hi.” It was simple, but let him know he was in our way.

He jerked in surprise and looked around at us. “Holly. Zelda.” Scratching the side of his neck, just under the collar of his button-down shirt, he said, “You might have told me who you were.”

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes, you! I had no idea you were a Wagtail Miller.”

“She’s Mrs. Miller’s granddaughter,” offered Zelda, clearly eager to jump into the conversation.

“So I hear. She was out slumming with the rest of us last night.”

Slumming? I didn’t know quite how to respond. What was he getting at? “I’d hardly call Hair of the Dog slumming.”

“No? Maybe not. I just meant there are only a few big names in town, and your grandmother ranks right up there.”

“She’s lived here for a long time. People will probably say the same sort of thing about you in a few years,” said Zelda.

He raised his eyebrows but appeared pleased by the thought.

“Holly!” Ben waved at me from across the plaza.

“Who’s that?” asked Philip.

“Her boyfriend.” Zelda had turned quite chatty.

Philip shot me an inquisitive look. “Must be serious if he followed you here.”

I didn’t go into details. What was I going to say? He’s not here because of me?

Ben panted like a worn-out hunting dog. He grabbed my arm. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

Under other circumstances, I probably would have pitched in to help him. But honestly, with everything that was going on, Kim’s successful maneuver of ditching Ben didn’t worry me in the least. “Is her car still at the cabin?”

He nodded.

“Then she hasn’t left town. I’m sure she’s shopping or having her hair done or something. Want to come with me to buy a collar?”

Ben smirked. “Like that’s more important than finding Kim?”

It was to me.

Zelda tilted her head coyly at Philip even though she addressed Ben. “You could get a latte and sit outside. Maybe you’ll see her walk by.”

Zelda, Trixie, and I walked away, leaving Ben and Philip together.

Zelda spoke in a hushed voice. “I have such a crush on that guy. Maybe it’s because my ex was such a slug. Philip is everything he wasn’t—successful and industrious, and, well, neat. I have this fantasy that he picks up after himself and does dishes. He doesn’t lounge around on the sofa watching TV all day. He’s making something of himself. I’ve heard he’s interested in the old Wagtail Springs Inn at the end of town. He wants to expand and be successful. But I don’t think I’m his type. Not everyone can accept that I’m a psychic.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Last night it sounded like he’s convinced there are such things as ghosts. Maybe he’s open to the concept of psychics.”

“You think? I could ask him over to dinner some night. Hey, would you mind giving me a hand for a minute? I’m not far from here.”

“Sure.”

We turned and walked almost two blocks. “This is me,” said Zelda.