Murder, She Barked

Slipping on Oma’s jacket as we went, I led her out the front door. Even in the cold at that early hour, some guests sat on the porch, bundled up with steaming coffee in their hands and dogs in warm coats at their feet or on their laps.

I hurried Trixie past The Blue Boar and along the sidewalk to the inn’s doggy-duty zone. Oh no. I bet Tiny usually maintained it. Fortunately, it appeared that most people were pretty good about cleaning up.

Trixie led the way back to the reception desk, clearly used to the doors that opened automatically. I kept her on her leash, though, so she wouldn’t run straight to the dining area again.

Zelda had just arrived and still wore a blue fleece jacket. Casey hadn’t left yet.

“I guess you heard about Tiny?” I asked.

Casey puffed up his chest. “I was here last night with the backup guy. Tiny went with them peacefully, though. It was pretty anticlimactic.”

“Zelda?” I prompted.

Her brow wrinkled. “Something stinks to high heaven. Tiny would never have hurt your grandmother. Quite the opposite—I think he would have protected her. It doesn’t add up for me.”

Casey’s eyes opened wide behind his glasses. “I never thought of that. You’re right! But why did he have the keys to the car?”

Exactly what I had suspected. Oma’s employees seemed to adore her. They were like a big extended family. Something wasn’t right. But I knew who held the missing link. Kim. Her only connection to the murders was the car. Somehow, Kim and Brewster had to be involved.

I skipped the inn breakfast, which I hated to do since I’d become spoiled by it, and headed to the Sweet Dog Barkery on the theory that one ought not go empty-handed to beat information out of someone. I bought three large lattes and a selection of croissants and muffins as well as two miniature peanut butter cookies for Trixie.

Borrowing Oma’s golf cart, we tootled out to Mortie’s cabin for a confrontation with Kim.

Picturesque against the pines, the cabin lay in stillness, interrupted only by the occasional chirp of a bird. The sun glinted off the water like sparkles undulating with the current.

I knocked on the door and waited.

Ben answered, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Kim shuffled out of a room. “It’s the middle of the night! What’s going on?”

I barged past Ben, who wore only a pair of jeans. “Good morning. I brought caffeine and goodies.”

Ben yawned. “I’ll just put on a shirt.”

He stumbled toward a different door. I wanted to think that detail wasn’t of interest to me, but I took note. Someone had been sleeping on the sofa.

Kim had wrapped herself in a sheet again. She reached out for a muffin. “These look good! Is that cinnamon I smell?”

“I think those are cinnamon pumpkin.”

Trixie barked. She wagged hopefully and tried to reach the box.

I didn’t like the way Kim looked at Trixie. Was she thinking of stealing her?

I held up the peanut butter cookie. “Sit.”

Trixie barked again.

“Sit.” I pressed down on her rear delicately and put her in a sitting position. “Good girl.” I broke off half of the cookie for her.

Kim bit into a cinnamon pumpkin muffin. “Mmm. Delish!” She popped the top off a latte. “To what do we owe this surprise visit?”

Maybe it was best if I hurried and got her to talk while Ben was out of the room and couldn’t stop her from blabbing. I thought fast. What would produce a response from her? “I know about you and Brewster.”

She spewed latte all over the sheet she wore. “Please don’t rat me out. Oh, please, Holly! I’ll break up with Ben if that’s what you want.”

From the looks of the sofa, I wasn’t sure there was anything to break up. But that was beside the point. I had to get her to tell me what was going on. I kept my question open-ended. “Why did you do it?”

She dabbed at the mess with a corner of the sheet. “I had to. I didn’t know what else to do. Brewster insisted on collateral, but I had already sold almost everything. He was my last resort. I rue the day I went to him for money.”

I heard Ben’s electric razor whirring. I had a few more minutes. I took a guess. “Day trading?”

Kim collapsed on the sofa and held her forehead with one hand. “I lost so much money. You can’t even imagine. I borrowed from everyone I knew, even Ben! When Brewster offered me a loan, I jumped at it. But he wanted collateral, so I borrowed Dad’s car and gave it to him.” She sat up. “You have to believe me, Holly. I never thought anything like this would happen. I thought I’d make a few trades, pay off Brewster, the car would be returned, and everything would be fine.”

“You stole your father’s car?”

She winced. “Borrowed, really. Who knew my dad would go and file a police report?”

What had she expected? Wouldn’t most people report a stolen car? “Then why did Tiny have your dad’s keys?”

She emitted a little shriek and sat up straight. “Tiny? He must be the one who stole the car from Brewster.”

Forty-three

“You can’t be serious,” I said. “A stolen car was stolen again? More likely Brewster made that up to save his own hide.”