Seven

I turned around and watched a shower of glowing embers fall to the ground. A cheer went up among the firefighters, which confused me. Was it a good thing for the shed to explode? I was terrified. All I wanted was to find Holmes, Trixie, Twinkletoes, and Dave. I needed to know they were all right.

But Dovie clasped my arm with a vise grip. Her eye makeup oozed down her face in black tears, leaving behind sooty trails.

I gazed around for help with Dovie. People had backed away from the falling cinders. I didn’t see Oma, Rose, or the WAG Ladies in the immediate vicinity.

“You should probably sit down,” I said. “Do you recognize anyone? A neighbor perhaps?”

“Is my house on fire now?”

“I can’t tell for sure, but from here it looks like it’s okay.”

She weighed heavily on my arm, and I realized that her knees were buckling and she had begun to sink to the sidewalk. I gazed around and spied my aunt Birdie. She would undoubtedly fuss at me for yelling at her, but I had no choice. I couldn’t drag Dovie over to her.

“Aunt Birdie,” I yelled.

She pretended not to hear, but I knew she had. Biting back the temptation to shout something mean at her, I yelled, “Aunt Birdie! I could use a hand here!”

No fewer than six people hurried over to us. One brought a folding lawn chair so Dovie could sit properly. Another brought Dovie a glass of something that smelled suspiciously like bourbon. Dovie didn’t mind. She gulped it like she hadn’t seen liquid in a week.

Once Dovie was surrounded by friends and neighbors, Aunt Birdie deigned to stroll over. “Did you need me, dear?”

She was so aggravating. Still, I had to admit that Birdie, who was probably close to Dovie and Oma age-wise, was the most strikingly dressed woman on the street. She wore white silk pajamas with a Nehru collar and fine embroidery. The top looked like a well-tailored daywear jacket that she could easily have worn to lunch with friends. If she had any.

I forced a smile. “Everyone has been so kind to help Dovie.”

“It certainly appears that Dovie needs some help. Maybe it’s time for her to look at Green Meadows.”

Dovie wasn’t completely out of it. She snapped back, “You have some nerve, you old crone. Nothing like kicking a woman when her shed is on fire.”

“Good riddance to it. It was nothing but an eyesore and needed to be torn down anyway.”

I couldn’t believe Aunt Birdie. There was a huge fire in Dovie’s backyard, and this was how Birdie treated her? I turned to the woman who had brought the bourbon. “Could you keep an eye on Dovie?”

She shot a disgruntled look at Aunt Birdie. “Of course, Holly. Unlike other people, I am pleased to help in time of need.”

I spied Oma and Rose standing with some of the WAG Ladies. Rose shouted to me, “Have you seen Holmes?”

“Not since the blast.”

I shot off toward Dovie’s house at a trot, desperately scanning for Twinkletoes and Trixie. I peered at groups of dogs and cats that played along the street, not troubled by the fire. But neither Trixie nor Twinkletoes was part of the fun.

A group of firefighters clustered near one of the trucks. I was relieved to make out one of the grimy faces as Dave’s. He smiled when he saw me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine. It was a crazy little fire. Good thing they warned us to get out before the explosion.”

“Little fire?”

“All things considered, it could have been far worse.”

“Did it damage the house?”

“Naw. Could have killed someone who was standing close by when that gas can exploded, but we all got out in time.”

“Even Holmes? Where is he?”

He clapped my back. “Especially Holmes. Now that he’s back in Wagtail, we’re not letting him get hurt. I don’t know where he is this minute, but he’s fine.”

I knew that his friends were as glad to have him back as I was. They would look out for him. “Did you see Trixie or Twinkletoes back there?”

He stared at me in shock. “They’re not stupid. They wouldn’t have wanted to be close to all that heat and chaos. They must be around somewhere.”

I knew what he said was true. Animals would run from flames. It was instinctive. But why couldn’t I find them? Had they gone home looking for me?

When I returned to Dovie, her neighbors had circled around her discussing whether she should sleep in her cottage that night. Aunt Birdie had disappeared. I assumed she had gone home since various neighbors were offering their guest rooms for the night and Aunt Birdie certainly wouldn’t have gone out of her way to accommodate someone else. It wasn’t in her.

Fagan stood by Brenda, Rose, and Addi. I looked at him more closely. What was that around his mouth? I walked closer. Something white clung to his whiskers and fur.

“Brenda? What did Fagan get into?” I hoped it wasn’t anything dangerous.

She picked him up and moved under a streetlight. “It’s sticky. Really sticky like glue or something. Oh no! Where’s the closest vet? I’d better have his stomach pumped! Fagan! What did you do? Stop that. He’s licking his whiskers! How do I stop him?”

Rose walked over and bent close to look at Fagan. She touched the white substance on his fur and when she pulled her fingers away, we saw streaks of red on the white goop.

Brenda screamed, “He’s bleeding!”

Rose calmly said, “Now wait just a minute. She plucked more of it off his fur. “I believe this little stinker got into my Very Berry Meringue Pie.”

“Are you sure?” asked Brenda. She gazed at Rose’s fingers. “Is that a raspberry?”

“That’s what it looks like to me. The sugar isn’t good for him, but at least it’s not poison,” Rose said in obvious relief.

Brenda set him on the ground. “Come on, Fagan. Let’s go wash your face.”

“Oh dear!” said Rose. “It’s all over your shirt. I’m sure the meringue will wash out, but the berries might stain the fabric.”

Brenda wiped at her shirt, which only succeeded in making it worse. “I’ll see what happens if I wet it.” She and Fagan walked back toward Rose’s house.

I didn’t see Garbo or the cats. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe they had sensibly fled from the flames and were playing somewhere with Trixie and Twinkletoes.

I spotted Holmes helping someone with a fire hose. Even from a distance I could see that his face was covered with soot. In spite of Dave’s assurances, I was relieved to see him with my own eyes. I stood quietly and scanned the neighborhood.

Still troubled, I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Huckle at the inn. “It’s Holly. I guess you heard about the fire. Looks like it’s mostly out. Have you seen Twinkletoes or Trixie?”

I could hear him opening the front door. “I’m afraid I have not seen them, Miss Holly. They’re not on the front porch waiting to get in.”

“Would you please call me if they come home? I’m worried about them.” I thanked him and hung up. Walking away from the fire, I traced our steps back to Rose’s house. With fewer people and less commotion, I could hear a dog barking not too far away.

As overjoyed as I should have been to hear Trixie’s bark, my heart sank. I knew that sound all too well. Trixie had many barks. Happy, frisky, playful, and the one I hated to hear. It was mournful, yet frantic, like she was calling for help or sending a message. It was the bark that meant someone had been murdered.