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

Praise for the
New York Times
bestseller

Murder, She Barked

“Krista Davis has created another charming series with a unique setting, an engaging heroine in Holly Miller and her furry sidekick, Trixie, and a wonderfully quirky supporting cast of characters—two- and four-legged. I’m looking forward to my next visit to the Sugar Maple Inn.”

—Sofie Kelly,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Magical Cats Mysteries

“Krista Davis has penned a doggone great new mystery series featuring witty, spirited Holly Miller and her endearing canine sidekick, Trixie. The adorable, pet-friendly setting of Wagtail Mountain will appeal to animal lovers and mystery lovers alike and the intriguing plot twists will keep you guessing to the very last page.”

—Kate Carlisle,
New York Times
bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries

“Krista Davis has created a town that any pet would love—as much as their owners do. And they won’t let a little thing like murder spoil their enjoyment.”

—Sheila Connolly,
New York Times
bestselling author

“A charming blend of small-town eccentrics and big-city greed,
Murder, She Barked
touches all the bases of the cozy mystery—including a bit of romance—and does so with style.”

—
Richmond Times-Dispatch

“Well-written dialogue, fun characters, and romantic complications that never go as the characters—or the readers—expect. . . . Readers will enjoy this skillfully plotted mystery and its biting humor.”

—
Kings River Life

“Davis has created a charming little town with a unique character, a town that caters to pets. . . . If you’re looking for quirky characters, wonderful animals, and a charming setting, you don’t have far to look.”

—
Lesa’s Book Critiques

“This action-filled book will have you rooting for Holly and her friends as they dig deep to find a killer within their reach. . . . [Davis] did a good job in keeping this light and airy whodunit fresh, entertaining, and engaging.”

—
Dru’s Book Musings

“This was a fun, fast-paced read. The plotting is top notch, and I love the quirky characters. I could not put this book down. The story will keep you guessing until you find out whodunit. The author has plenty of dogs . . . I mean red herrings to keep you turning those pages. I am looking forward to reading more books in this delightful new series. So if you like your mystery with a tail, then you should be reading
Murder, She Barked
.”

—MyShelf.com

Praise for the Agatha Award–nominated Domestic Diva Mysteries

“The quirky characters are well developed, the story line is as crisp as a fall apple, and the twists and turns are as tight as a corkscrew.”

—AnnArbor.com

“Davis finely blends mystery and comedy . . . entertaining and alluring.”

—SeattlePI.com

“This is not your run-of-the-mill cozy; the characters are real to life, interesting, and keep you wondering what will happen next. Krista Davis writes one enjoyable read.”

—
The Romance Readers Connection

“[Davis] handles this tricky tale with aplomb and fills it with a cast of eccentrics.”

—
Richmond Times-Dispatch

“[Davis’s] novels are every bit as good as Diane Mott Davidson’s Goldy Schulz mysteries.”

—
Shine

“[An] enjoyable mystery that includes decorating tips, a few pets, an unusual bequest, and recipes. . . . Once again, Krista Davis brings us interesting, fun characters.”

—
Lesa’s Book Critiques

“A mouthwatering mix of murder, mirth, and mayhem, nicely spiced by new author Krista Davis.”

—Mary Jane Maffini, author of
The Icing on the Corpse

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Krista Davis

Domestic Diva Mysteries

THE DIVA RUNS OUT OF THYM
E

THE DIVA TAKES THE
CAKE

THE DIVA PAINT
S THE TOWN

THE DIVA
COOKS A GOOSE

THE DI
VA HAUNTS THE HOUSE

THE DIVA DIGS UP THE
DIRT

THE DIVA FROST
S A CUPCAKE

THE DIVA
WRAPS IT UP

Paws & Claws Mysteries

MURDER
, SHE BARKED

THE GHOS
T AND MRS. MEWER

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

THE GHOST AND MRS. MEWER

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2014 by Cristina Ryplansky.

Excerpt from
The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss
by Krista Davis copyright © 2015 by Cristina Ryplansky.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-59309-7

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / December 2014

Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher.

Cover design by Diana Kolsky.

A Paws and Claws Mystery logo by Alpimages/Shutterstock.

Interior text design by Kelly Lipovich.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

To Buttercup, Queenie, and Little Miss Sunshine

People often ask if I do any research for my books. I learned a lot about ghosts for this book. It was fascinating to hear about ghosts that people have encountered. Thanks to all of the lovely people who shared their ghost stories with me. It was equally interesting to learn how some people have manipulated situations to make us believe in ghosts. The Apparition Apprehenders took me into the believers’ side of the paranormal, and Eva’s position led me to examine the scientific position. I have learned a great deal, mostly that there is no grand conclusion.

Special thanks to Shawny Darby for answering my questions about ghost hunting. And also to Kathleen Joyce, who suggested the name Apparition Apprehenders. As always, I couldn’t do this without my editor, Sandra Harding, and my agent, Jessica Faust. I thank Susan and PJ Erba for taste-testing the recipes for me. And my dear friends Betsy Strickland and Amy Wheeler for always being so supportive. I can’t forget my mother, my first reader and biggest fan. As always, any errors are my own.

Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate.

—Sigmund Freud

APPARITION APPREHENDER GHOST TEAM

Felix Fischbein and Casper (Weimaraner)

Brian Anderson

Mr. Luciano and Gina (bulldog)

Eva Chevalier and Mrs. Mewer (Siamese cat)

Grayson Gatewood

Mark Belinski

Mallory Gooley

OTHER SUGAR MAPLE INN GUESTS

Lillian Elsner

Parker Colby

SUGAR MAPLE INN STAFF

Liesel Miller

Holly Miller

Zelda York

Casey Collins

Shelley Dixon

Mr. Huckle

Marisol Rodrigues

Gingersnap—canine ambassador (golden retriever)

Trixie (Jack Russell)

Twinkletoes—feline ambassador (calico kitten)

RESIDENTS OF WAGTAIL

Doc Kilgore and Siggie (black Labrador)

Officer Dave Quinlan

Clementine Wiggins

Rose Richardson

Holmes Richardson

Aunt Birdie Dupuy

Val Kowalchuk

GHOSTS

Elmer Dupuy

Dr. Ira Wraith

Becca Wraith

Dr. Hiram Montacue

Obadiah Bagley

“There is no such thing as a ghost.” Eva Chevalier turned her pointy nose up in the air and chortled. “It’s preposterous. Nonsense, folderol, fiddle-faddle.”

No sooner had she spoken than the automatic sliding glass doors to the parking lot whooshed open. A gust of wind blew in, bringing dried leaves with it.

A grey Weimaraner with startling blue eyes stepped away from the doors and growled. Gingersnap, the Sugar Maple Inn’s canine ambassador, simply wagged her tail. In typical golden retriever fashion, she continued kissing the guests gathered in the reception area.

The doors closed again as if a person had passed through. I felt the chill of a late October wind pass by.

“I bet there’s a ghost in here now,” Casey Collins whispered, gazing up at the ceiling and shoving his glasses to the bridge of his nose with his index finger. Casey worked at the inn as a desk clerk but seemed more like a little brother than an employee. At twenty, he still looked boyish and reminded me of the young Harry Potter, with similar glasses, a shock of dark hair that always fell over his forehead, and sweet, innocent eyes.

Five guests who were part of the Apparition Apprehender ghost hunting team had arrived a few minutes ago and were waiting to check in. They had come to town to shoot what they hoped would be a pilot episode for a potential TV show about ghosts. Wagtail had plenty of them, but the most well-known allegedly haunted the creepy old Wagtail Springs Hotel. At the mention of a ghost, the guys dived into their luggage and pulled out assorted handheld machines. The chatter behind Eva stopped as they concentrated on their gizmos, apparently trying to prove the ghost’s existence through technological devices.

I raised my voice a little to get their attention. “Welcome to the Sugar Maple Inn. I’m Holly Miller. If you need anything during your stay, please let me know.” I smiled broadly, but they were intent on their machines. Oh well.

Eva turned her eyes toward the ceiling and shook her head in amused disbelief. The doors were automatic, but I had to admit that opening on their own had been odd. Probably the result of that gust of wind.

Only the day before, I had moved to Wagtail Mountain permanently to join my grandmother, Liesel Miller, as her partner in running the Sugar Maple Inn. Halloween was nearly upon us and the first thing I had seen at the outskirts of town was a huge orange banner over the road that proclaimed
Welcome to Howloween in Wagtail, where spooky things are afoot!
A cat with an arched back adorned one side and a howling dog decorated the other.

The inn’s Halloween decorations only added to the fun. Pumpkins clustered at the base of the doors on both sides. Spiderwebs clung to the walls with a parade of faux spiders marching along them. The sinister figure of a grinning vampire hanging upside down in a black cape was enough to give anyone a chill. Two skulls lay at rakish angles on top of the registration counter, and vultures peered at us from the large antler chandelier overhead.

My grandmother, whom I called
Oma
, German for
grandma
, had flitted off to a meeting of some sort, leaving me to keep an eye on the Apparition Apprehenders when they checked in.

Not that I minded. I welcomed any excuse to leave my apartment on the top floor. Boxes upon boxes cluttered my quarters. My entire life was still packed, except, of course, for my calico kitten, Twinkletoes, and my Jack Russell terrier, Trixie, who sniffed around the back of the reception desk in search of the treat jar.

Zelda, another desk clerk, had called me when the ghost hunting crew arrived. I hadn’t expected any major problems, but here I was, already thinking that I would have to have a little talk with Casey about arguing with guests. After all, Eva was paying to stay with us, and if she didn’t believe in ghosts, that was her business.

“That was
not
a ghost.” Eva took a deep breath and watched the antics of the guys behind her. She turned back to Zelda and me. “I’m a university professor and have students like them. What frightens
me
is not ghosts, but the fact that my students and people like these ghost hunters believe ridiculous claims of spirit sightings. If these gentlemen would think it through, they would understand the absurdity of believing in ghosts.”

Eva wore thick glasses in pink cat-eye frames that accentuated the odd paleness of her skin. Clearly vintage, a boxy coat of drab green wool hung on her, at least two sizes too large. A wide pink hairband pulled her dark hair back—very 1960s. She was thirtyish, like me, I guessed.

A Siamese cat on a leash jumped onto the registration counter, startling Trixie. She yipped at the cat and danced around to the lobby side. When she saw the open bags, she lost interest in the cat and buried her nose in a duffel bag.

I glanced at Eva’s reservation. She’d been booked as part of the Apparition Apprehenders group. Obviously an error on our part. She should be in the cat wing. An easy fix.

“I’m sorry. It appears we’ve made a little mistake. I have you down as one of the ghost hunters. But no matter, we can—”

“Your confusion is understandable. My reservation was made by Mr. Luciano, the producer who is in charge of the ghost hunting expedition. I’m the ghost debunker whom he hired.”

Ghost debunker? She definitely shouldn’t be staying near the ghost hunters. Her cat would be happier in the Cat’s Pajamas, our cats-only wing, anyway. I made a quick room assessment based on her apparent love of vintage clothing. “Zelda, let’s put Ms. Chevalier in
Pounce
.” Unless I missed my guess, she would love the pink cabbage drapes and the old-fashioned feel of the room. “Ms. Chevalier, what is your cat’s name?”

“Mrs. Mewer.”

“Like
The Ghost & Mrs. Muir
? That’s cute.”

Eva smiled. “Thank you. It’s M-E-W-E-R, of course. I have a fondness for both 1960s TV shows and puns. The name came from Mrs. Mewer’s tendency to talk.”

“Mrs. Mewer will enjoy
Pounce
, I’m sure.”

Zelda nudged me. “Where should I put Mr. Fischbein?”

“Move him to
Hike
.”

“What peculiar names for rooms. Do you have an aversion to numbers?” inquired Eva.

“Like the town of Wagtail, the Sugar Maple Inn is pet-friendly, so we’ve changed all the room names to reflect pet-related activities,” I explained.

A small man whom I’d barely noticed separated himself from the other ghost hunters, stepped closer, held up his forefinger, and murmured softly, “I . . . I’m Felix Fischbein. I . . . I brought my dog? I was told that was okay?”

Eva turned to him with a devilish expression. “Mr. Fischbein, we meet at last.”

Fischbein’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He stuck out a stiff hand to shake hers, his shoulders pulling tight as though he was cringing inside. He forced a smile, one corner of his mouth twitching with doubt. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Fischbein shot a glance at one of his friends, a pudgy man who glared at Eva.

Fischbein shoved hair out of his forehead with his palm in a nervous gesture. “Your reputation precedes you.” Even his Weimaraner backed away from Eva.

Eva cast a critical eye at the pudgy guy. “I imagine it does.” She turned to us again. “I love it when ghost hunters quiver in my presence.”

Uh-oh. Did I sense tension? “
Hike
is a terrific room, Mr. Fischbein, and we’re very happy that you brought your dog.” That worked out well. He must not have informed us that he was bringing a dog. No matter. Problem solved. Plus we had moved away from the argument about ghosts.

And then Casey returned and had to go and say, “It was definitely a ghost.”

Zelda, who fancied herself a pet psychic, whispered, “Bet she doesn’t believe in psychics, either.”

Oh no. Not what we needed right now.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing,” Eva announced. “But you are quite right. Psychics prey on those who haven’t the intelligence to know better. They’re nothing more than modern-day snake oil salesmen.” Eva gathered her cat into her arms.

Zelda stiffened. “Mrs. Mewer wants you to know that she’s afraid of the vultures.”

Eva glanced up at the antler chandelier before frowning at Zelda. “Which way is my room, please?”

Mrs. Mewer hunched her back and dug her claws into Eva’s unfortunate wool coat, ducking and twisting her head so she could keep an eye on the vulture decorations overhead.

I hoped Zelda and Casey wouldn’t high-five in front of Eva. I hurried to change the subject. “Would you like a GPS locating collar for Mrs. Mewer’s use during her stay?”

Eva pondered for a moment. “No. She’s very good at walking on a leash.”

I didn’t dare trust Zelda or Casey to show Eva to her room. They were bound to argue with her about ghosts and psychics.

“Would you keep an eye on Trixie?” I asked them.

I handed Eva her welcome packet. “This way, please.” I picked up her bags and led the way into the main part of the inn, past the large sitting room and the grand staircase. Someone had gone overboard with the decorations. A mummy stood guard on each side of the staircase. Candles flickered on assorted black iron stands, and a trio of faux, oversized black cats hissed at us.

I pointed at the busy tables in the dining area. “We serve breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea, as well as light dishes by room service on request. There’s a menu in your room, and a cat menu for Mrs. Mewer. I believe Mr. Luciano has made special arrangements for most of your meals. Breakfast is here at the inn at your convenience, and there’s a welcome reception for you at five o’clock this afternoon in the Dogwood Room.” We walked through the library and into the newly built cat wing.

I unlocked the door and switched on the overhead light, gesturing for Eva to enter. If she was distressed by the conversation regarding her disbeliefs, she showed no sign of it, but I still debated apologizing for the staff. I probably should.

She lowered Mrs. Mewer to the bed and turned around in the center of the spacious guest room, taking it in with a dreamy expression. “This is lovely. Thank you for changing my room. I have no idea what the other room looks like, of course, but it couldn’t be any more perfect than this.”

Pink and red cabbage roses on a soft blue background graced the drapes and the goose-down comforter. The walls had been painted the palest blue and the wood floors had been whitewashed, a nice match with the white headboard, white tufted bench at the foot of the bed, and cozy white armchair near the fireplace. Over the top of the bed, in between paintings of cabbage roses, hung a framed quote in an artful gold script:
“If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve the man, but it would deteriorate the cat.” ~Mark Twain
.

An antique mahogany dressing table with a huge mirror and the delicate crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling offered additional feminine touches.

Mrs. Mewer wasted no time in leaping to the catwalk that ran along the walls near the ceiling. She viewed us from above with haughty pleasure.

I strode over to the sliding glass doors and demonstrated how to lock the cat door to the porch. When I opened it, Mrs. Mewer zoomed through, evoking a cry of distress from Eva.

“She’s fine.” I unlatched the sliding glass door and walked out to the porch with Eva on my heels.

“It’s securely enclosed with cat-proof screening.”

Mrs. Mewer had already climbed to the highest point of the tree that had been installed inside the porch just for feline guests. She rested on a branch like a panther, purring so loud that we couldn’t mistake her contentment. A gentle wind blew, no doubt carrying the scents of squirrels and other woodland creatures.

“This is amazing. Luciano told me that the Sugar Maple Inn offered special quarters for cats, but I never imagined anything like this. Is there a litter box?”

“In the bathroom. And I must apologize for Casey and Zelda. I’m terribly sorry about their behavior.”

Eva shrugged. “I’m used to it. Three out of four Americans believe in ghosts or some sort of supernatural activity. To do otherwise would destroy their hope in an afterlife. It’s understandable that they wouldn’t want to give up that dream, hence the continuing search for evidence which does not exist.” She sighed. “I can’t complain. I’m augmenting my teaching income by proving it’s all nonsense. The believers keep me employed.”

“Thank you for being so understanding. Give me a call if there’s anything you need.” As I left the room, Eva was examining the contents of her gift basket. Mrs. Mewer would be thrilled with the locally made toys and treats, and after her less-than-welcome reception, Eva would probably enjoy the bottle of Fat Cat wine.

I hurried back to help Zelda and Casey, but when I rushed into the registration lobby I stopped short.

A perfectly round, white circle was traveling slowly across the wall.