Murder, She Barked

“I didn’t recognize her when I saw her again. Who would have imagined she would turn into such a knockout? I hear Dave is chasing her. Think he’ll consider her a suspect?”

“Doubtful. Where’s the motivation?”

“Apparently Peaches made a huge scene at the inn when Mr. Wiggins was having lunch with Oma. Think there’s something going on between them?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of. He tossed Peaches and Prissy out of the mansion, but I think they’d be inclined to kill Clementine for that, not Oma. Unless . . .”

I scootched around to face him better. “Unless what?”

“Unless Peaches is already working on her next conquest. Everyone knows Thomas, from The Blue Boar, is sweet on our Oma. But maybe Peaches is eyeing him and wants Oma out of the way?”

Seemed kind of flimsy to me. “Who else?”

He snorted. “Jerry. Kind of ironic, eh?”

“I thought about him, too. In fact, I wondered if he was murdered because he tried to kill Oma.”

Holmes pulled back and scrutinized me. “Why Holly Miller! I never realized that you were so sly.”

“You would be, too, if . . .” I smacked my forehead and gasped so loud that Trixie barked. “How could I be so dense? It was right there in front of me the whole time.” I leaned over and whispered, “Mr. Luciano.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of the guests. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but the night I arrived, he came in after I did. He was a mess and claimed that someone had beaten him up.”

Holmes’s forehead crinkled. “I’m not seeing the connection.”

“Don’t you get it? Nobody attacked him. That was a line he made up—because he’s the one who pushed the car over the cliff! He probably fell in the process. Maybe it’s harder than we’d think to shove a car over the side of a mountain.”

My pulse quickened as my thoughts became clear. “And the next morning, I saw him running right along there.” I pointed at the east side of the walking zone. “He could have been on his way to Jerry’s, to lie in wait for him.”

“Motive?” asked Holmes.

Air fizzled out of me. My brilliant idea deflated like a balloon. “Kind of falls apart right there. I don’t know. I wonder what he’s doing here. Oma met with him in her office earlier today.”

“Maybe he wants to buy the inn.”

Few things could have sent as big a shudder through me. “No! Do you think so?”

“You okay? You’re pale.”

“I never thought about Oma selling the inn. That would be like losing a family member. It would . . .”

“Oh, Holly! Don’t cry.”

I blinked back the moisture in my eyes. “I’m not crying. It just never occurred to me that the inn would be out of the family.”

“You could still come back and visit.”

“It wouldn’t be the same, and you know it. They would change things.”

“You’ll get used to the idea.”

“Do you know something? Tell me!”

“I don’t know beans. But Oma isn’t getting any younger. Most people her age have retired and are cruising with drinks in hand instead of waiting on people.”

I slumped back against the bench. “Now I’m depressed.”

“You have to be kidding me. What did you think would happen? You know your dad and his sister aren’t interested in the inn. They fled Wagtail as soon as they could. And Josh, I don’t know about him. If he was ever going to quit globe-trotting and settle down, you’d think he would have done it already.”

I nodded. My cousin, Josh, had itchy feet. I couldn’t imagine him taking over the inn.

Holmes shot a sideways glance at me. “You don’t have a job.”

“I’m a fund-raiser. My life is in Washington. Ben is there, my house, my friends.” Trixie whined softly and licked my chin. “Don’t worry, you’ll go with me. I can’t just uproot myself.”

“Oma’s right.” He grinned at me. “You’re dry as toast.”

“Am not. You just called me sly.”

“That just proves there’s hope for you.”

“I don’t see you

moving back to Wagtail, Mister I-have-to-visit-every-other-weekend-but-I-live-in-Chicago.”

“Touché.” Holmes gazed at the inn. “I’d try to finagle a way to buy it in a heartbeat. But it’s a big place, Holly. With the inn and the grounds and the new additions, we’re talking megabucks. It’s not like Joe Schmoe can come along and buy it. Besides, my fiancé would never agree to live here.” His sigh reflected my feelings.

I knew what he meant. We had other obligations. We had built lives where we lived. I tried to push the ugly thoughts about losing the inn away. “Back to where we were, do you think Luciano would have tried to kill her so he could buy the inn?”

“Let’s walk through this. He steals the car—”

“The car was stolen weeks ago.”

“Okay. So he stole the car and hid it somewhere. Then he parked it on Oak Street?”

“Right. He opened the gate to let Dolce out, walked over to Hair of the Dog, called the inn and reported that Dolce was loose, then returned to the car, and wham—he hit Sven instead of Oma.”

“Then why did he kill Jerry?” asked Holmes.

“I don’t know. In fact, nobody seems to know where Jerry was that night.”

“Are you suggesting that Jerry murdered Sven and Luciano killed Jerry?”