The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

Leaves blew around me with such force that I felt certain Brian would have insisted the spirits were complaining about what I had said.

The dogs were still barking in the corner of the cemetery. I made my way toward them, pausing to see who warranted the ornate obelisk.

Swags of roses had been cut into the top. Beneath them, perfect folds of fabric had been carved in the stone, ending in ornate stone tassels. I peered at the name.
Dr. Ira Wraith.
His wife and son’s epitaphs appeared there as well. The sun broke through the clouds, turning the giant cherub beside it golden. It was every bit as ornate as the obelisk. The chubby angel held one foot in the air behind him as though held aloft by his finely detailed wings. A wrap looped around his legs, and carved flowers cascaded down the pedestal on which he stood.
Rebecca Wraith.

I was surprised that she hadn’t been buried with the rest of her family.

Furious barking broke my concentration. I jogged among the headstones and nabbed the three leashes.

“All right, all right. Hush. Enough barking!”

They weren’t interested in the grave, as I’d thought. They aimed their noses toward the woods outside of the fence. Moss grew on two plain tombstones that sat next to each other outside of the cemetery. I craned my neck to see the names.
Dr. Hiram Montacue
and
Obadiah Bagley
.

I stepped back, shocked. They had been ostracized. The people of Wagtail hadn’t buried them among their own respectable townspeople. Hiram had been a murderer. I wasn’t surprised that they wouldn’t want him in their cemetery. But Obadiah had been his victim. Why had they buried him outside of the fence, and even worse, right next to the man who had killed him?

Gingersnap started another round of barking, which prompted Trixie and Casper to join in. “Shh. You’re noisy enough to wake the dead.”

At that exact moment, I caught a movement in the trees. A shiver shuttled through me. It was probably only a deer. But wouldn’t I have heard a deer prancing away through the dry leaves? Only the youngest, most naive deer would stick around with this barking.

I was letting all the talk of ghosts get to me. Still, I felt as though someone was watching us. Many of the leaves had fallen, but the evergreens still provided a dense, dark thicket.

Nonsense. I was being silly because I was in a graveyard. Of course, that didn’t explain the dogs’ behavior.

“C’mon.” Holding their leashes, I turned quickly and bounded through the cemetery as fast as I could go, watching my step and dodging around grave markers.

When we reached the gate, I glanced up and screamed.

Holmes opened the gate for us. “You’re running like you saw the devil himself.”

“Where did you come from?”

He was as calm as a summer sky. “Across the street. I’m supposed to meet Doc Kilgore and some of the guys here to set up for the celebration tonight.”

I peered at him. “Are you sure you weren’t in the woods trying to spook me?”

His gaze shot over my head to the woods. “I would never do that.”

“Yeah, right. So it
was
you.”

“Honest, Holly, I just got here. It was probably a deer.”

“That’s what I thought too, but they have trouble not making any noise when they leap away.”

Holmes couldn’t hide his grin. “You’re so skittish! The next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’ve changed your mind and that you believe in ghosts.”

“Speaking of ghosts, do you know why Obadiah is buried outside of the cemetery?”

“Sure. He murdered Hiram.”

“Duh. Obadiah couldn’t have murdered Hiram, because he was already dead.”

“Ah, but they saw the ghost of Obadiah delivering the snakes that killed Hiram, remember?”

“That’s stupid. I’d rather not think our ancestors would fall for something like that.”

Holmes laughed. A nice hearty laugh that always warmed my heart. “Shh. I wouldn’t say that quite so loud out here in the cemetery where they’ll hear you.”

“Very funny.”

Several golf carts drove up, laden with supplies.

I waved good-bye to Holmes and turned to leave.

“Hey, Holly!” he called. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

How could a girl turn down that kind of heartfelt invitation? “You bet. Wouldn’t miss it.” Not if Holmes would be there, I wouldn’t. Maybe it would be fun. Maybe Oma and Rose were right. I just needed to loosen up a little and enjoy the spirit of the season.

When we returned to the Sugar Maple Inn, I removed all the leashes from the dogs. They descended upon Eva, Felix, Mark, Grayson, and Ben, who were relaxing in the sitting room with glasses of wine.

“I see you all met Ben.”

“They’ve been telling me about their ghost hunting adventures,” he said.

Eva waved at me. “Look at this. Isn’t it the cutest?”

She beckoned me to the huge window. Twinkletoes and Mrs. Mewer lay side by side, fast asleep. They weren’t touching, but given a little more time together, they might even snuggle.

“I thought this might be a boring trip for Mrs. Mewer, but she’s having the best time of her life. Who thought
she
would make a friend?”

“I’m just glad they’re not hissing at each other anymore.”

“Zelda told me about the GPS collar. Is it okay to let Mrs. Mewer run around the inn? I’ll be out part of the night at your aunt’s house.”

“Sure. No problem. We’ll look after her.”

“If you see her in the library, you might want to shoo her out of there. She’s been known to shred books and newspapers.”

We tiptoed away from the sleeping kitties just in time to see Officer Dave arrive.

He looked straight at us. “Eva Chevalier? I’d like to have a word with you, please.”

“Brian.” She barely breathed his name. “This is Brian’s doing.”

Mark jumped up from his seat. “What’s this about, Dave? Eva didn’t do anything.”

Dave kept a poker face, but his gaze locked on Mark for a hair too long. “I’d like to speak with you privately, Eva. Excuse us, please.”

Eva and Mark exchanged a fearful glance.

Dave followed Eva to her room in the cat wing.

Mark’s chest heaved with each breath he took. He kept his eyes on Eva. We all trailed behind Dave and Eva. When the door to her room closed, we waited in the inn library.

Ben whispered, “I feel like I missed something. What did Eva do?”

“Nothing!” barked Mark. In a softer tone, he repeated, “Nothing.”

“Brian saw Eva outside the inn the night that Mallory was murdered,” I murmured. Doc would be furious when he learned about this.

“Brian doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Mark snarled. “I never should have put him in the mix of ghost hunters. He’s just retaliating because Eva caught him in some underhanded ghost tricks.”

“Which you knew would happen,” said Felix.

“Makes for good TV. People like conflict. But it’s not fair of him to lie about Eva and imply that she was mixed up in Mallory’s death somehow.”

A little shuffle behind us drew our attention. A cameraman bounded in our direction. “Where are they?”

Mark held his hand up. “We’re not shooting this.”

Brian thundered toward us. “You just said conflict makes for good TV. Wish we could see her face. Was she panicked?”

“You’re a worm, Brian. The lowest of the low.” Mark seethed with disgust.

“Oh, it’s okay to make money off
me
by putting me on the hot seat and wrecking my reputation? That didn’t seem to bother you so much, Mr. High and Mighty. But now that it’s Eva in the middle of the controversy—”

“You twit. This has nothing to do with the show. I will not allow it to become a sick drama about Mallory’s death.” Mark’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Really, Mr. Big Shot Author? Why not? Where were you when your girlfriend was drowning?”

“I wouldn’t be quite so bold about accusing other people if I were in your shoes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Felix stepped between them. “Hey, guys. Let’s not start attacking each other. We’re all friends. Okay? We need to stick together.”

It was Brian who seemed the most put out. Trixie placed her paws on his thigh and nuzzled his pocket for treats. He pushed her away. “What’s wrong with your dog? I don’t have any dog treats.”

Mark kept a vigilant and worried eye on the door to Eva’s room. Grayson had stayed out of the argument, but he stood by with his friends.

I excused myself, but before I walked away, Felix said, “Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? Ben is coming. Then we’re going to walk over to the cemetery.”

“Sounds great. I just need to check in with my grandmother.” I walked toward her office with Trixie trotting ahead of me. I had risen early so I could get to work but I hadn’t done a thing for the inn all afternoon.

Oma wasn’t in the office, so I walked upstairs to her apartment. She answered the door in a chic pantsuit with a jacket reminiscent of Chanel.

“Wow. Where are you off to?”

Oma smiled coyly. “Dinner at the Blue Boar.”

I suspected that the charming chef who owned the posh restaurant had a bit of a crush on my sweet Oma. “Is Rose going, too?”

“You would like to join us, perhaps? Doc will be coming when he finishes helping at the cemetery.”

“Is it my imagination or is there a spark between them?”

Oma nodded. “It would be nice, no? Doc and Rose have been widowed for a long time. Like me, Doc has a daughter who lives in Florida and never visits. Such a pity. We miss them so much.” She bestowed a beautiful smile upon me. “I’m so glad I have you, liebchen.” She hugged me with a fervor that I knew came from deep within her. “So would you like to come with us?”

“And bring Ben?” I teased. “Thanks, but I thought I’d go out with some of the ghost hunters. I just came by because I feel so guilty for not helping out more here today.”

“No? I didn’t notice. Some days are like that. Other days will be so crazy busy you might regret your decision to move here. You have fun with the young people tonight, liebling. It will do you good. I will see you later at the cemetery?”

“Absolutely.”

I left thinking I would make up for it tomorrow. It bothered me not to pull my weight. Still, I had only been here a few days—and what bizarre days they had been. Before long I would be in a boring routine, taking over so Oma could have some much-deserved time off.

I took a few minutes to freshen up in my digs. I filled two bowls with cat food, in case Twinkletoes brought Mrs. Mewer home for dinner. I changed into a belted plaid skirt and a scoop-necked top in ivy. After running a brush through my hair, I pulled on boots and a suede jacket, then wrapped a long scarf around my neck. I grabbed my purse and Trixie’s leash, and we were off.

Ben and the ghost hunters were still clustered where I’d left them. Casper nuzzled Trixie, glad to have canine company again.

“He’s still questioning Eva?” I asked.

“Can you believe it?” Mark swallowed hard. His jaw muscles tensed.

The door opened, and Dave walked toward us. “Holly, could I speak with you?”

Eva emerged, looking none the worse for the interrogation. Under her breath Eva muttered, “I need a drink.”

“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up,” I said.

“We’ll be at the barbecue place,” said Felix.

Grayson ushered the group out.

Dave and I sat down on the window seat in the library.

He ran both his hands up his forehead and sighed. “Everyone had the opportunity and no one has an alibi. Did Eva say anything to you about a weird light in her room?”

“As a matter of fact, she did.”

“I don’t know what to make of that. She says she doesn’t believe in ghosts, but then she tells me this crazy story about a light in her room. Doesn’t that seem contradictory to you?”

“Not really. Sometime we see reflections of something. The day they checked in, an orb floated across the registration area. It had to be a reflection of some kind. I saw it myself. That doesn’t mean I thought it was a ghost. It’s her job to figure out stuff like that and prove it wasn’t a spirit. It probably bothers her that she can’t explain it.”

Dave nodded. “Catch up to them and see what you can find out. One of them has to know something.”

“What about Brian? He was outside that night too, or he wouldn’t have seen her.”

“Says he went for a walk. He could easily have killed Mallory. Know of any reason he would want to?”

“He said something about asking her out. I gather she turned him down and he was offended. It sounds like all of them, except Felix, knew her one way or another.”

Dave stood up. “More than one person has a motive.”

“Who? Who has motives?”

“I can’t tell you everything, you know. Besides, I’m not sure. See what you can dig up.”

“Rose and Oma chewed me out for asking questions that implied Doc is wrong and Mallory was murdered.”

Dave’s lips bunched up in anger. “I find it painfully ironic that Doc says I’m not letting him do his job but he cannot see that I have to do
my
job. The old guy made a judgment call and now he feels like he has to prove that he’s right. He keeps telling me there’s no evidence of an altercation. The way I see things, it’s his job to determine the cause of death. It’s my job to find the evidence. I hope that Doc doesn’t try to interfere, because I’m not a little kid anymore. I have as much clout around here as he does. Maybe more.”

We left the inn together, but Dave kept going when we reached Hot Hog. The entire group had gathered at a table with Mr. Luciano and the last person on Earth I ever expected to see there—Aunt Birdie.

She flushed like a young girl on a first date, raised one hand, and curled her fingers at me in a wave. Mr. Luciano appeared to be in his element. I said a silent little prayer that he would amuse Aunt Birdie and keep her away from me.

I gratefully accepted a chair near the opposite end of the long table, as far away from Birdie as possible, next to Ben and across from Mark and Eva.

No sooner had I been seated than Holmes arrived with a group of locals who had been working at the cemetery. It took him exactly one minute to say, “Mind if we join you?” He shoved another table up to the end of ours and took the seat beside me. Introductions flew around the table.

“Hey, Donna,” he called to the waitress. “Barbecued shrimp and corn bread for the whole table?”

It was as though his mere presence transformed an ordinary dinner into a party. Beer mugs clinked against wineglasses in toasts. Not a single person around the table wasn’t smiling or laughing. We shared the tangy shrimp and nibbled on warm corn bread with fresh country butter.

And I was stuck between my dream man, who had his arm slung around the back of my chair, and my former boyfriend.
Oh, joy.

No one else seemed to notice. I decided Oma was right. I was too stiff and concerned about these things. I should relax and laugh and chatter with everyone else.

To my complete shock, Birdie regaled everyone with stories of Wagtail in the 1800s. “The interesting thing about Obadiah is that he really did cure snake bites. Probably not all of them—but the original snake oil salesmen sold tea tree oil or Chinese water snake oil, which really did have an effect on snakebites. It didn’t take long for unscrupulous people to bottle any old thing and sell it as snake oil, and that’s how snake oil salesmen got a bad name.”

Platters of ribs, glistening with a deep ruby sauce, arrived, along with pulled pork, French fries, lightly charred grilled ears of corn, and little white ramekins that nearly overflowed with creamy coleslaw. The lively banter subsided as we dug in.

I did notice that Aunt Birdie skipped all the luscious, messy, sauced foods and primly ate her chicken breast with a knife and fork while the rest of us used our fingers.