Murder, She Barked

Soft lights beckoned me inside. I lifted the scared dog, walked inside, and closed the door behind me with my shoulder.

Yellow and burnt orange chrysanthemums spiked with cattails filled a vase on a half round table. A mirror behind them doubled the impressiveness of the arrangement. I caught a glimpse of my face and set the dog down in a hurry.

Another look in the mirror and my hands flew up over my mouth in shock. The rain had smeared my mascara and eyeliner into frightening black circles around my eyes. It looked like horror movie makeup. A zombie would have been proud. My hair was plastered to my head, except for little wisps that kinked in odd directions. No wonder Casey had reacted so peculiarly toward me. I looked over at the dog. “Thanks for telling me.”

She wagged her tail and ran to the right, into a comfortable sitting room. A stone fireplace dominated one wall. If I hadn’t known I was on the third floor of an inn, I would have thought I was in a cozy mountain cabin. A plush red sofa and deep chairs clad in red and white toile with red ottomans begged me to put up my feet and read a mystery by the fire. Apparently, they also appealed to the dog, because she already sat in one, looking quite at home.

Long red, yellow, and green plaid curtains hung open, revealing two sets of French doors topped by a semicircular window. I opened a door and breathed in the frigid night air. A spacious deck offered a table and chairs as well as two chaise longues.

Soft lights shimmered beneath the fog in a wing to my left, probably the new Cat’s Pajamas wing Casey had mentioned. Although I couldn’t see it, I was certain the view from the deck would be of Dogwood Lake and the mountains beyond. The dog trotted out, raised her nose, and scrutinized the air.

“Anything interesting?”

She wagged her tail again. Did that mean she liked it when I spoke with her? She followed me inside.

A small but complete kitchen adjoined the sitting room, divided by a counter. To my complete surprise, a cozy dining room opened off the kitchen. Or was it a library? Red roses swelled over the edges of a bowl in the middle of a round table. Sunlight would surely spill in through the windows on both sides of the little room. The far wall featured bookshelves, and a plump country French buffet sat under a window to the left.

As I wandered through the suite, I realized that it spanned the depth of the inn. Oma had decorated it in what she liked to call European-American country. A master bedroom, also with a fireplace, featured identical French doors with a semicircular window over top of them. They opened to a balcony but fog blocked the view.

After checking out a second bedroom with its own private bath, I returned to the kitchen feeling guilty for using what was no doubt the swankiest digs in the entire inn. I’d have been happy to collapse on a bed in one of the standard rooms.

The dog’s ears perked, and she barked excitedly.

She might not be much protection, but she could wake anyone with those high-pitched yaps. “Shh. People are sleeping!”

Someone knocked on the door, prompting her to bark more.

I looked out the peephole. Casey waited in the hallway.

When I opened the door, he scooted past me with a room service cart. I closed the door and trailed after him.

He made his way into the kitchen and unloaded several covered dishes on the counter. He handed me a T-shirt. “My sisters like large Tshirts to sleep in, so I brought you one from the store.”

I held it up. Artistic logos said Sugar Maple Inn on one side and Wagtail on the other. “That’s so thoughtful of you. Thanks!”

He spotted the kitten curled up on an ottoman. “Your grandmother calls her Twinkletoes. She’s the nosiest cat I ever saw. I hope you don’t mind her in here. She took up residence in this suite on her own—like she chose it.” He shook his head. “I think that’s very peculiar, but your grandmother accepted it as though it was perfectly normal.”

“I don’t mind. Is there a litter box?”

“It’s in the bathroom. You’ll see. It looks like a little cabinet with a cutout door in it. This salmon is for her, and there’s more cat food in the fridge if she gets hungry.”

“Are you sure I’m supposed to be in this suite? It’s huge!”

He nodded and smiled at me. “No luggage? Really?”

“I left in a hurry when Rose called me. I didn’t take the time to go home and pack anything because I was so worried about Oma.” I gasped. I’d been so enamored of the suite that I forgot to wash off the dreadful smeared makeup. Using my fingertips, I wiped underneath my eyes.

Relief swept over his face. “Ah, that makes sense. I should have realized. Everything happened very fast. We’re all a little spooked. Things like that don’t happen in Wagtail. I can’t believe someone jumped Mr. Luciano. Perhaps you’d like the fireplace on while you eat.” He picked up a remote control, pressed a button, and flames flickered.