Murder, She Barked

“No! I will never sell the inn. It is my home. Where would I go?” She swallowed a bite of ice cream and caramel sauce. “Whatever gave you such a strange idea?”

I couldn’t exactly say she was getting old. “I thought you might want to retire.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “It would be nice to semiretire.”

“Because of your health?” I held my breath.

“Oh, Holly. You worry too much.”

“Do I? When Rose called me, she sounded so desperate that I thought you were dying.”

“I apologize for that. She shouldn’t have made you worry so. As you can see, I will survive this twisted ankle.”

Holding my spoon between my thumb and forefinger, I flipped it back and forth. “What I don’t quite understand,” I said, trying to make it sound as innocent as possible, “is why Rose sounded so urgent when she called me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that she called, but somehow, she gave me the impression that you had something far more serious than a twisted ankle. Maybe she thought you would have trouble dealing with Sven’s murder?”

Oma froze. Toying with the ice cream, she finally said, “We had to get you to come here.”

“But, why?”

Oma heaved a great sigh. “We had to time it when Holmes would be here.” She finally met my eyes. “Liebling, please understand. I couldn’t see you spend your life with the Ben. He’s so dull. He has sucked the joy out of you.” She reached across the table to me. “You used to be fun, but somewhere along the way, you became parched like a desert. You need to find laughter again and the merriment that I know you have inside you.”

“You terrible woman! You and Rose played matchmaker? You thought if you threw Holmes and me together that we would fall in love?” I snorted. “Well, that didn’t work.”

“A pity.”

“So you’re not sick? You never were?”

“No. Please don’t be angry with us. We did this from the love in our hearts for you and Holmes.”

“Does Holmes know?”

“I doubt it. He’s not as pushy as you are.”

Nothing like a grandmother to tell you that you’re dry as the desert and pushy. Way to boost my self-esteem, Oma. I should have been angry—furious, really. They deceived me and worried me to death. What had Holmes called them? Dotty. They were crazy as loons.

“Rose doesn’t like Holmes’s fiancé?”

“Not in the slightest. He’s not happy in the big city. Did you know that I hired Holmes to design the renovation of the inn?”

“He never said a word.”

“He loved doing it. It wasn’t fancy architecture, of course, but I could see the change in him. He needs to come back here.”

“How soon do you think you could book that cruise?”

She perked up. “I don’t know. Are you saying . . .”

“I don’t have a job at the moment. If you trust me to take care of things, Trixie and I would be happy to fill in for you.”

It felt great to clear the air. Silly woman, she should have just told me from the beginning. I imagined it hadn’t been easy for her, though. How can you tell someone that you took desperate measures to matchmake? Still, it was a relief that she wasn’t ill. Plus, if she went on that cruise soon, she’d be out of town and away from the possible harm of the killer. As far as I was concerned, she should leave as soon as possible.

• • •

Just before ten o’clock that night, I donned my clean jeans, a dark green turtleneck, and the black jacket I had borrowed from Oma. I dressed Trixie in her halter. She would give me away with her white fur, but I could cover her with the jacket if need be. That would help conceal her a little bit. I filled my pockets with my cell phone, a little cash in case of an emergency, and the GPS collar and receiver.

When we stepped out into the stairwell, voices drifted up to me. I didn’t dare leave the building by way of the reception area. Casey would see us for sure and pelt me with questions. We hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Pretending we were simply going for a late doggy stroll, we walked over to the Blue Boar and cut down the sidewalk that intersected with the inn parking lot.

Minutes later, we were back in the golf cart, retracing the route we took earlier in the day. I parked on the side of the road and tiptoed to Kim’s cabin in the dark. They didn’t have a dog, but I worried about triggering motion detectors that might shine a spotlight on us.

We made it to their golf cart under the cover of darkness. I tucked the GPS collar in the recesses of the dark vinyl bag in front of the seats and crossed my fingers that it would work. We ran back to our own golf cart, Trixie eagerly leading the way.

Near Hazel Mae’s house, I pulled off the road, angled the golf cart so it was facing town but was partly hidden by trees, and turned off the engine. “If Kim comes by, we’ll follow her. Okay?”

Trixie hopped out and sniffed the ground. She could go fairly far, thanks to the leash. I had a bad feeling that if she hadn’t been tethered, she’d be off running through the woods.