The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) (22 page)

I had barely stepped inside when Shelley called out, “She’s here!”

Zelda peeked out of Oma’s office. “Where have you been?”

“Walking. What happened?”

Shelley motioned for me to follow her into Oma’s office. “We can’t talk about this when your grandmother is present. Hurry!”

Casey was lounging on the sofa with a cup of coffee. Holmes sat on the other side. He waved to me and smiled.

“Didn’t you bring any leftover goodies, Shelley?” asked Casey.

Trixie sprang onto the sofa and nestled under Holmes’s arm. She gazed up at his face as though he were the most wonderful person in the world. Not that I blamed her for feeling that way.

I set the box of Frankenstein brownies on the table. “Will this do, Casey?” I plopped my shopping bag on the floor next to a cushy chair.

“Hey, cool!” He snatched one up.

Zelda poured coffee into a mug and handed it to me. She cracked the door ever so slightly. “So I can see if anyone is out there,” she explained.

I added milk and sugar to my coffee and settled into my seat.

Shelley spoke in a low voice. “We’re all worried about Zelda because of the rumor. We thought if we brainstormed and worked together, we might be able to figure this out. But”—she looked from me to Holmes—“no blabbing to the older set in Wagtail, specifically your grandmothers.”

I felt like I had missed something. “What rumor?”

Zelda choked on her coffee.

Holmes spoke up. “That three people left Hair of the Dog together that night, and one of them was dead in the morning.”

My initial reaction was to spout,
Nonsense!
and say how silly that was. But then it dawned on me that the rumor, no matter how ugly it sounded, was true. “Ugh. That’s really rough.”

“It
is
!” whined Zelda. “It’s totally unfair. Just because we left with her doesn’t mean we killed her.”

“Of course not,” I said as soothingly as I could. It didn’t look good for her, though. Anyone could see the logic in that dreadful rumor.

Shelley cleared her throat. “So let’s talk this through, okay? I don’t dare leave Mr. Huckle alone too long serving afternoon tea. I’ve made a list. Zelda aside, because we know she didn’t do anything, I figure it has to be one of the Apparition Apprehenders because so few people in Wagtail knew Mallory.”

“Let me guess,” said Holmes. “Mark is first on the list.”

“Of course he is.” I ticked off items on my fingers as I spoke. “Mallory wanted to marry him. She was staying with him. She had already come between him and Eva once before. And he was planning to reconcile with Eva this weekend. At least that’s what Eva thought.”

Holmes frowned at me. “Look, I know Mark a little bit. He’s a good guy. What you’re saying doesn’t make sense unless he was two-timing them, and honestly, I don’t think he’s the type who would do that.”

I held up my hands. “Just saying—he and Eva are an item now.”

Shelley spoke as she checked off little boxes on her list. “Mark had a motive to get rid of Mallory, and apparently he had the opportunity.”

“Which brings us to Eva,” said Zelda. “She doesn’t even deny being outside later that night. So she has motive and opportunity, too.”

“They could have done it together!” said Casey.

“What about Brian?” I asked. “I still don’t know what he was doing outside in the wee hours of the morning. At least Eva concocted a story about a light in her window. Brian said he went for a walk.”

“Hmm, opportunity—but did he have a motive?” asked Shelley.

“He kept hitting on Mallory at the bar, and she was pretty brutal in her rejection of him,” said Zelda.

“He wouldn’t kill a girl for that, would he?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” Casey helped himself to another brownie. “It’s hard being rejected by girls all the time. The poor guy probably flipped out.”

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened before,” said Shelley. “What about that Felix guy? I’m sorry, Zelda, I know you like him. I do, too. But he
was
the last person seen with her.”

Zelda shook her head. “Impossible. I saw him leave Mark’s house.”

“I just walked it. We can count out Felix and Zelda.”

Zelda beamed at me. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“He could have doubled back,” offered Casey.

“In that case, we’re not any more suspect than anyone else,” Zelda protested. “Brian could have just as easily walked over to Mark’s house while he was out on his walk. Besides, Felix doesn’t have a motive.”

“That we know of,” Casey muttered.

“I think he might be true-blue,” I offered. “He was upset that Mallory was flirting with him in front of Mark. You know, when she introduced herself to Felix, Mallory said
she
had written
Haunting Horrors of Wagtail
.”

“I’ve heard that, too. Taking credit for his book is motive number two for Mark.” Shelley made another note on her list.

“Felix could be putting on an act in the hope that Zelda would be blamed for the murder,” said Holmes.

Zelda gasped. “Nooo.” She gazed around at us. “I’m sure that’s not the case!”

“That leaves Grayson.” Shelley flicked her pad with her pen.

“Seems pretty nice,” I said. “When we stopped to buy some muffins for Birdie, the ladies in the bakery went wild over him. He was very sweet about it.”

Shelley sighed. “They all had opportunity. We might as well just accept that. Any one of them could have left the inn and come back.”

“That unobserved front door is a bad idea.” Casey’s mouth twitched. “I check it just about every hour now to be sure no one left it unlocked. It’s a pain.”

“Someone could sneak in so easily.” I shook my head. What had Oma been thinking when she moved the registration desk to the side entrance? I had to take up that subject with her.

“I saw
you
coming back that night.” Casey grinned at me. “You were wetter than a dog after a swim.”

I gazed at him in shock as I realized what we had all overlooked. “Maybe none of our guests killed her.”

They turned their attention to me.

“I was soaked through. Whoever drowned her must have held her down. The water isn’t deep but that’s all the more reason her killer would have had to be in the water. Whoever it was must have been wet—at least his or her feet and legs. Probably arms, too.”

We fell silent.

“That’s the missing link,” said Holmes. “Even after walking back to the inn, his shoes probably would have left wet marks on the floor. Has anyone talked to the housekeeper? Maybe she noticed wet clothes or shoes.”

In a calm voice, Shelley said, “It had to be Mark, then. He was the only one who didn’t have to come back here. He went home and changed clothes. No one else was there to notice. He could have washed everything that night, and no one would have been the wiser.”

Shelley’s plan to find the culprit and eliminate Zelda as a suspect had backfired. There was one other person who could have gone home soaking wet and no one would have been the wiser—Zelda. In my heart, I knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t, have killed anyone. But she could have gotten away with it just as easily as Mark could have.

“I’ll talk with the housekeeper,” I offered. “All of us need to do some snooping to find out if Felix or Grayson had a motive.”

Shelley nodded. “I fear most of the evidence is pointing straight at Mark, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.”

The bell rang at the registration desk. Zelda flew to the door.

Lillian cocked her head and smiled. “I wondered where everyone went.”

The rest of us rose to leave.

“Casey,” I said, “the ghost hunters are making a return visit to the Wagtail Springs Hotel tonight. If you want to go along, I’ll fill in for you.”

The sleepy kid came to life. “No kidding?” His mouth hung open. “That’s so great! Oh man! This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Shelley grabbed his shirttail. “Don’t forget to do some snooping about Grayson and Felix’s connection to Mallory.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Casey agreed, still excited about the ghost hunting expedition.

“How long are you staying in town, Holmes?” I asked.

“Just through the big Howloween bash tomorrow night. I’m flying back to Chicago the next morning. Right now, I’m headed over to help Grandma Rose. Wanna come along?”

A rustling noise caused us to look down.

Trixie had buried her nose in the bag I set on the ground and was pulling out the stuffed dog that belonged to Emily.

“No!” I took it from her. “Not this one.” I dug around for the yellow duck. “Here. Drool and chew on this all you like.”

I looked at the loved-to-death dog in my hand and had visions of Emily crying and Clementine retracing her steps for it.

“I think I’ll pass, Holmes. I’d better get Lassie back to Emily before Clementine mounts a statewide search for him.”

“There’s a major crisis,” he teased. “Call out the National Guard!” Holmes left with Shelley.

I called Clementine from the phone in the office.

No answer. Not even the ubiquitous voice mail picked up.

“Wanna go for a ride?” I asked Trixie. She wagged agreeably. We walked outside to the golf carts. Trixie carried her yellow duck the entire way.

She hopped into the golf cart as though she’d been riding in them her whole life. She’d adapted quickly to life in Wagtail and had been surprisingly well-behaved. I was beginning to think she might not run off again. I tucked the shopping bag into the black storage compartment of the cart, and we were off.

The drive to Fireside Farms was gorgeous. Most of the leaves had fallen, leaving bare branches exposed, but the reddish gold carpet they created on the ground was stunning. The air held a nip in it, just enough to suggest that winter would be on its way, and we ought to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted. An occasional cloud drifted over the sun, and in one of those moments, I felt cold and wary. Without sunbeams, the leaves seemed drab and lifeless, and the wind whispered through the bare limbs of the trees.

The white fence of Fireside Farms came into sight. We turned and chugged down the long driveway. But we had only made it midway when a scream pierced the air.

Trixie leaped off the golf cart and sped toward the barn, yelping.

I parked the cart and ran after her. At the barn door, I paused. Trixie barked furiously at a man bending over something—or someone. Clementine!

I glanced around for a weapon. Anything I could slam over his head or back. Where was a pitchfork when I needed one? I grabbed the only things nearby, a saddle and a rope horse halter connected to a lead.

I flung the saddle on his back to weigh him down, straddled it, looped the halter over his head and pulled it tight. “Clementine! Clementine! Are you all right? Say something, Clementine!”

Trixie danced around them, continuing her relentless yipping.

“Clementine!”

A feminine hand waved near the ground.

I yanked the halter, stepped off him, and kicked the saddle away. “Get up!”

That didn’t turn out quite so well, because Parker towered over me and could have easily strangled me with his bare hands. Instead, he loosened the tight halter at his throat and choked out a whispered, “Can’t breathe.”

Clementine rolled over and sat up slowly, her hands around her throat. She waved at me, flicking her hand down, but I didn’t understand her gesture.

Parker seized the halter lead, and with one quick jerk it was out of my hands. I backed away and tried to call Dave, but couldn’t get a signal on my phone.

“Clementine, are you okay? Where’s your gun?”

She leaned over, pulled it out of a pocket, and handed it to me.

Oh swell. A toy.
I pointed it at Parker anyway.

He backed away a step, his hands turned up with palms facing me. “I should get some credit here. Clementine, tell her.”

Clementine nodded. Her voice was raspy. “He’s okay.”

I was thoroughly confused.

“Trixie,” I said, “that’s enough barking.”

She followed her nose to another door, still emitting an occasional yip.

Parker spoke calmly. “Please put down the gun.”

“Not a chance.” Did he think I was some kind of idiot? As long as he didn’t get too close, maybe he wouldn’t figure out that it was plastic.

Parker rubbed his neck. “What did that guy want?”

“What guy?” I asked.

“The one I pulled off of her.”

Clementine staggered to her feet. “What did he want?” she rasped. “The same thing you want!” Her voice gained strength with her anger. “I don’t have them! I don’t have them! I don’t have them! How many times do I have to tell people that I don’t have them?” She broke into a hacking cough. “The phone rings all day long,” she wheezed. “I don’t even answer it anymore. People are sneaking around, scaring me, frightening the children. For pity’s sake, can’t you leave us alone? I
don’t
have them!”

Parker stared at her. He mashed his lips together and frown lines creased over his nose. After a long moment, he nodded his head. “You know, I believe you.”

“Then, please, leave me alone.”

Why did I feel like I was on the outside of this conversation? I didn’t dare interrupt, though.

“Hey!” he protested. “Is this any way to show your appreciation? I just saved you from that creep. Tell her to put the gun down.”

Clementine held on to me as though she didn’t have strength in her legs. “Thank you,” she said bitterly. “You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, if I’m not overwhelmed with gratitude to someone who has made my life miserable.”

Parker inhaled. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, I don’t think
I’m
the one who did that.”

Clementine bit her upper lip and winced. “Would you
please
get off my property?”

Parker blinked at her. “Am I the only one who understands that you were just attacked? You could use my help. What if he’s still around here?”

I finally butted in. “You’d better come stay at the inn, Clementine.”

“I’m not leaving the house.”

“I’m calling Dave.” I pulled out my cell phone again and walked toward the huge barn door.

“You won’t get a signal here,” said Clementine. “You can use the landline in the house.”

“Let’s go then,” I whispered.

We stopped at the door to the barn and looked around.

“When I say
now
, run for the side door,” instructed Clementine. “Now!”

Clementine, Trixie, and I ran like our lives depended on it.

Parker strolled, as if he hadn’t a worry in the world. “Where are the kids?”

Clementine shot an angry look at him. “They’re not here.” She pulled a key from her pocket, but her hands shook so hard that she fumbled with the lock.

“Give me that.” Parker took the key from her and unlocked the door.

In a split second we were inside with Parker. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. After all, he did save her. But he shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

I picked up the wall phone, dialed 911, and told the dispatcher that Clementine had been attacked. A small tabby wound around my legs. She clenched a turquoise mouse in her mouth, much like the one Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer had played with.

When I hung up, Clementine and Parker were going at it.

“If I had wanted to hurt you, I could have. But it wouldn’t do me any good to kill you, would it?”

Clementine pumped her fists on her hips. “You have no business intruding on my life.”

“I don’t know about that. I think you were plenty lucky that I happened to be here. Do you know who he was?”

“Not a clue. You’re not the only one, you know.”

I was completely out of the loop again. “Did her ex-husband hire you?” I demanded.

Parker looked at me in complete surprise. “Man, you’re really out of it.” He hitched his thumb in my direction. “She doesn’t know?”

Clementine sagged into a chair.

She looked so wan that I hurried to the fridge for something sweet, like orange juice, but it was nearly empty. Seriously empty. Like my refrigerator looked when I was getting ready to go on a long trip. There was milk for the kids in a glass jar. No label. Did they have a cow, I wondered? A bunch of spinach from the garden, four apples, and a block of cheese.

I put the kettle on for tea. I hoped she had that. “What’s going on, Clementine?”

“Have you ever heard of Ron Koontz?”

“Heard of him? I nearly lost my job because of him.”

She cringed. “How much money did you lose?”

“None. It wasn’t like that. He made anonymous donations through my company. I was a fund-raiser.”

Clementine closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “Is there no end to the people he hurt?”

Parker slid into a chair at the kitchen table. “Sounds like Ron.”

“I don’t get it.” I opened empty cabinets in search of tea. All I found were dried chamomile blossoms in a pickling jar. I located a Royal Stafford bone china teapot with a bold red rim and lacy gold detail. It was far more ornate than we needed, but I placed a sieve on the top anyway and filled it with chamomile. I poured boiling water over the chamomile and brought the whole contraption to the table with mugs, napkins, spoons, and a sugar bowl.

Clementine looked me straight in the eyes. “My husband was one of Ron’s associates.”

“What?” She couldn’t be serious! But she was.

“I’m sorry. What they did was horrible.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Stealing from people by promising them huge returns on their investments—I still can’t bear to think of it. I asked Dad not to say anything to anyone. You can’t imagine the guilt. But now I’ve lied to everyone I cared about. I hope you understand, Holly. I didn’t want the pain and the shame following us here.”

Parker raised an eyebrow. “Like you didn’t know what your husband was doing? Give me a break.”

Clementine threw him an ugly look. “We lived so well, but I never thought to question it. The nannies, the housekeeper, the exotic trips on private jets with Ron. Now that I look back, I don’t understand how I could have been so blind.” She studied her fingers. “I trusted my husband.”

“Your husband went to prison with Ron for the pyramid scheme?”

Clementine nodded. “I divorced him, of course. I turned everything of any value over to the feds.
Everything.
The house, the jewelry, the cars. It’s been a huge adjustment for the children. I didn’t think anyone would mind if I took the cats, but I had to sell some of my horses.”

“Where are the horses?” I asked. I hadn’t seen any in the barn.

“I took them over to another farmer for safekeeping. They’re grazing on his land. I couldn’t leave the house without being afraid someone would steal or harm them.” She wiped a strand of hair out of her face and winced. “I never imagined anything like this could happen. I only kept what I brought into the marriage and gifts from my parents. It’s one thing to lose your money because you make a poor investment. I know all about that from raising horses. But to steal other people’s hard-earned money! They were relying on it for their retirements, for their kids’ educations, for their dreams. And we squandered it.
We
even gave huge donations. Isn’t that the worst? We got credit for being soooo generous”—she closed her eyes briefly—“and it was all with other people’s money.”

Parker leaned back in his chair and watched her.

“I’m so ashamed, Holly. I didn’t want everyone in Wagtail to know. I just wanted to slink back here and lead a quiet life. Raise my children and try to recuperate. If it’s any consolation to the people they stole from, I’m broke. Flat-out, completely broke. I’m bartering with the French teacher. Riding lessons for her kids in exchange for French lessons for mine. I can barely scrabble together enough change for a couple of cans of cat food. If this weren’t farmland, we wouldn’t have anything to eat. Don’t ask me what I’m going to do come winter. I didn’t get here soon enough to plant a big garden or put up preserves this year.”

I reached for her hand. “Oh, Clementine! Don’t worry about food. We’ll take care of you.”

She grimaced. “We’re living in this big fancy house and still have all the trappings, but between Dad’s investments with Ron and the spending habits of his last wife, he’s nearly wiped out, too. We own the two most useless properties in all of Wagtail—his ex-wife’s empty store and the Wagtail Springs Hotel. There’s no money for us to make a go of either one of them, and no one is interested in buying or renting. We’re a mess, Holly.”

Parker had made himself useful by pouring tea into mugs and passing them around.

I eyed him suspiciously. “If her husband didn’t hire you, who are you, and why are you stalking Clementine?”

“
Stalking
is an awfully strong word for it, don’t you think?”

At exactly the same time, Clementine and I said, “No!”

“It’s common belief that your friend here has some items of great value. Namely, the frustratingly elusive ghost diamonds worth millions.”

I sucked in a deep breath. We were having tea with the enemy! “You’re here to steal them?”

Clementine leaned forward and waved both hands in the air. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have them?”

“The story goes that mastermind Ron and his patsy, Clementine’s husband, saw the big crash of their pyramid coming and invested in a tidy nest egg that they could sell on the black market if necessary—the ghost diamonds. Except the feds can’t find them. All we know is that Clementine’s husband was heard to say that he hid them in something Clementine would never give away.”

“Holly, I swear I don’t have them. Didn’t know a thing about them, don’t know where they are. I even sold my engagement and wedding rings and gave the proceeds to the feds. But horrible people like Parker have been swarming to Wagtail in the belief that the diamonds are here. The other night I found a crazy woman in my closet who demanded I turn them over to her because her boyfriend lost all his money, and he wouldn’t marry her if he was poor. Can you imagine? Like I’d hand them over to a lunatic stranger? If I had them, I’d give them to the feds. Then she asked for my Hermès handbag. Can you believe her nerve? I gave it to her and told her the truth—she could have it if it would make her feel better, but my boys stashed their crayons in it and left it in the sun on a hot day. If it weren’t damaged, I’d have sold it and turned the cash over to the feds.”

Parker tilted his head at her. “And her clever husband knew Clementine would also turn over the diamonds. So where did he hide them? As diamonds go, they’re huge, but they’re still little bitty things that could be stashed anywhere. It’s a mystery. Unless, of course, Clemmie knows and isn’t saying.”

“Don’t call me Clemmie,” she uttered through clenched teeth.

“So you’re following her around in the hope that she’ll—what? Go to a safe-deposit box in a bank? Visit the diamonds in a hay bale?”

“There are people who want them.”

People? What did that mean? I imagined a lot of people would want them. Then his meaning dawned on me. “Someone hired you? You’re not here because
you
lost money?”

“Hey, I’m a private investigator, okay? It’s an honorable way to make a living.”

“Not very good at it, are you?” muttered Clementine.

“If I had made the effort, you never would have seen me tailing you. The ones you’d better worry about are the ones you don’t see.” He faced me. “I’m not doing anything wrong. May I once again point out to you that I saved Clemmie today? If you’ll pardon my saying so, you ought to be treating me like a hero right now.”