Twelve

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

Shelley smiled. “Didn’t you know? Waitresses are invisible. You wouldn’t believe what I overhear.”

“Like what?”

“Well, apparently they have agreed to tolerate Joanne’s need to act like the boss because she called home to speak to her husband and thought she could hear a woman in the background. Being in charge will help take her mind off of that.”

“They said that?”

Shelley nodded. “Joanne has been quite the topic of concern. And Brenda, too. They’re wondering how to give her some clothes. I’m sure you’ve noticed how she dresses.”

“It’s not like she’s wearing rags. She just doesn’t have the same couture style as the others. I’m rather fond of khaki skorts and pants myself.”

“That’s not what they think. Oriana has actually brought some extra ball gowns with her that she thinks might fit Brenda. But they don’t know how to broach the topic without offending her. You can’t just walk up to a friend and suggest that you have nicer clothes that she could borrow.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair to Brenda. She just has different taste.”

“Her friends suspect she has run out of her inheritance. Brenda is what you might call a penny-pincher.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She leaves an embarrassing tip. You should see her friends trying to distract her while they add money behind her back.”

“That’s sad. Her brother went to prison for trying to kill her father years ago. He’s out of prison now. Maybe that’s the problem. She could be having trouble supporting him and trying to help him get back on his feet. Does she work?”

Shelley shrugged. “Want me to find out?”

“What? And lose your cloak of invisibility?”

“I have my methods.” She winked at me and got back to work.

I scurried down the hallway to the reception lobby to retrieve keys from the office. I hurried up the back stairs with Trixie dashing ahead of me.

The housekeeper’s cart was in the hallway.

I found her in Oriana’s room, where Twinkletoes inspected a brown trunk that was not-so-subtly decorated with the famous Gucci logo in a slightly different shade of brown. A matching carry-on bag stood beside it with the same logo, but it was also decorated with a yellow butterfly and vivid flowers. The trunk stood open, as did the closet door. A selection of gorgeous evening gowns hung inside. “Twinkletoes! You’re not supposed to be snooping.”

She showed no shame. She bothered to stop her inspection to throw me a quick glance, then promptly went on her way checking out Oriana’s belongings.

I stepped toward her and bent to pick her up, but the little rascal darted to the bathroom.

“Marina,” I said to the housekeeper, “the gentleman in Hike died last night.”

She gasped. “Is he still in there?”

“No. He didn’t die here. But the police don’t want us to touch his room until after they fingerprint and check it out.”

“No problem. I am not interested in the dead man’s room. How did he die?”

“We’re not quite sure yet.”

She nodded and made a cross over her chest before she continued cleaning.

“Holly?” I could hear Dave calling me.

“Right here,” I said, stepping into the hallway, where he waited with two people whom I recognized from the Snowball police headquarters. “Hi.”

“They’re going to dust for prints.”

I unlocked the door and followed the three of them inside. It looked just as it had the night before. Seth’s bag rested on a chair. The coverlet on his bed was pulled back, which seemed illogical. He never made it back to the inn to sleep in it. He could have taken a nap, I supposed. He had changed clothes. A pair of trousers and a shirt hung over the arm of a chair.

“Anything change since you saw it last night?”

“I don’t think so.”

His phone rang, and he answered it with a curt “Quinlan.”

Meanwhile, the other two got to work. One collected fibers, and the other began to dust for fingerprints.

Dave stood completely still while he listened to someone on the other end. He didn’t say much, but thanked the person before hanging up. “You will be relieved to know that the irritated spot on Seth’s back is not a bug bite.”

I felt like I had been given a gift. “Thank goodness for that. What is it then?”

“It appears that it’s from an injection.”

“Where exactly is that spot?”

“Beneath his left shoulder blade.”

“Who gives themselves injections in their backs?” Contorting, I reached my right hand behind my back. “I guess it’s possible, but it would be difficult to give yourself a shot there. Are they certain?”

“I don’t mean to gross you out, but they’re used to cutting into that kind of thing.” His mouth shifted uncomfortably. “Drug addicts who are in medicine or law enforcement are adept at hiding their injections. But if you slice into a suspicious spot, you find a small amount of coagulated blood that forms underneath the puncture. Unfortunately, the medical examiner sees that kind of thing more often than one would wish. In addition, Seth shows signs of an arrhythmic death.”

I blinked at him. “You’re saying he injected something in his back that made his heart beat irregularly and that’s why he died?”

“People inject themselves in all kinds of places, but your point is well taken. I would agree that given the location of the injection, it was more likely administered by a second person. They’re trying to figure out what was injected.”

Why did I feel like we were going in circles? “So a doctor might have given him an injection for back pain and he had a bad reaction?”

“I seriously doubt that’s where an injection for back pain would be administered. We’ll know more from the toxicology report.”

I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t saying what he was really thinking. “But?”

Dave grimaced at me. “But I think someone came up behind Seth and injected something into him that killed him.”

Okay. That was plenty clear and very scary. “You’re saying any one of us could be walking along, minding his own business, and suddenly there’s a little sting in his back and, whammo, he falls to the ground dead?”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite so dramatically, but yes. That is what I suspect.”

“That puts a new light on the saying, ‘Watch your back.’”

Dave sighed. “Presumably, most of us haven’t done anything to merit the ire of the person wielding the syringe.”

“But we don’t know, do we?”

“Not yet.”

“Do you think the murderer set the fire at Dovie’s to distract everyone?”

“It’s a possibility. Something to consider. The timing is dead-on for that.”

Dave looked over the shoulder of the woman bagging Seth’s belongings.

“If you don’t need me, I’ll just make my rounds.” Dave wasn’t paying attention, so I called Trixie and left. I headed for the reception lobby, where I composed a simple message updating the residents of Wagtail.

It is with great sorrow that I inform you of the death of a visitor yesterday evening. At present I do not have information on the cause of death, but you will be notified if there is reason for concern.

Mayor Liesel Miller

I printed a copy and took it into the office, where Oma was conversing with Rose and Zelda. “Is this okay?”

She read it. “Perfect. I think you begin to sound like me. Short and to the point.”

I returned to the computer and hit Send. Then I collected my clipboard and eyed the registration lobby.

It was my habit to make a morning tour of the inn, noting such things as burned-out lightbulbs, collecting items people had left behind, and making sure the common areas were clean. It was relatively calm that morning, as was the norm. Trixie scampered along, sniffing the floor as we walked through the halls. Not a thing was amiss until we reached the library.

It was a small, cozy room with a fireplace and a window seat. Located on the first floor, it connected the main lobby to the newer cat wing. Oma’s and my reading tastes ran to mysteries, so the shelves were full of them, along with a selection of books in other genres and some fun children’s books.

Fagan, Brenda’s black Scottish terrier, lay stretched out on the window seat on top of a grubby navy T-shirt. He snarled at Trixie when she approached him to take a look. Trixie backed up, understanding his growly possessiveness, but still watched him, clearly curious about his treasure.

Loki bounded into the room and snatched the T-shirt away from Fagan. Trixie leaped at it and grabbed it in her mouth. Fagan joined her, and the two of them appeared to have teamed up against Loki. But Loki was having fun. He held on to the T-shirt, taking a step or two forward to let the smaller dogs think they were winning, but then he twisted abruptly, and Fagan lost his grip. Trixie didn’t have the strength to wrest the prize away from Loki. He dragged her across the floor, but she held on with dogged determination and was soon joined again by her buddy Fagan.

I could hear Brenda upstairs, calling, “Fagan! Fagan!”

I walked over to the stairwell and shouted up to her, “He’s in the library.”

She joined me and immediately scolded him. “Fagan! What have you got there? Give it to Mommy.” She held out her hand to him.

He pinned his ears back and made the guilty face of a dog caught in the act.

“Loki!” scolded Brenda. “Give!”

Reluctantly, he allowed her to take the T-shirt from him, and Trixie let loose, too.

“Ugh. It’s filthy.” She held it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger. It said Walley World under a picture of a moose. “Silly boy. Fagan does Earthdog, you know.”

I didn’t know, but I had heard the expression. “Is that some kind of game?”

“It’s marvelous. It tests the natural hunting instincts of your dog.” She leaned over toward Trixie. “I bet you’d be excellent at it.” Speaking to me, she said, “You really should enroll Trixie. Terriers have such a strong ingrained ability to locate things, especially underground. That’s what they were bred for, you know. Fagan probably dug this up somewhere.”

I reached for the T-shirt. “I’ll put it in the lost and found. Some kid probably forgot it.”

“Thank you. I doubt anyone will come around for it, but you never know.”

Now that he had nothing to protect, Fagan was quite friendly with Trixie, and the two of them had fun romping from the library into the lobby. But when Loki tried to join in, the two of them ran off by themselves as though they were ganging up against him.

We watched them like doting moms, but Joanne distracted us when she dashed down the stairs. As always, she was dressed in office attire, a chic navy dress with a gold belt. The long sleeves had been carefully folded back and shoved up. If she was flushed, I couldn’t tell. Thick makeup concealed her true coloring. Her Somali, Hershey, walked eagerly on his leash, gazing around and not a bit afraid of the two dogs racing through the lobby.

Joanne marched up to us. “They tell me your grandmother is the mayor of Wagtail. I would like a few minutes of her time, please.”

“Is it something I can help you with?”

“They told me I might have to go through you to get to her. That’s clever business tiering. You take care of the little things, clearing her time for important items.”

That was utter nonsense. But it suggested to me that whoever told Joanne that didn’t think much of the urgent matter that drove her to seek an audience with Oma. It was all a bit humorous, given that Oma was probably in the inn office and readily available to speak to anyone who dropped by. “How can we help you?”

“I need to be sure that Seth’s most untimely death isn’t cause for canceling the gala. People have already arrived. It would be a catastrophe to cancel it.”

Brenda listened calmly. I couldn’t help noticing that while the two friends were involved with the same project, Joanne looked like she was ready to go on camera, and Brenda, without a stitch of makeup, wore a shabby olive green jacket that was frayed at the cuffs and khaki pedal pushers with a stain on the right knee.

“I haven’t heard even a whisper of any intention to cancel,” I assured Joanne.

“That’s a relief. I overheard people discussing a cancellation. It would simply be a disaster.”

“I suspect that many of the people coming from out of town don’t have any idea that there was a death.”

“See that it stays that way.” Joanne glanced at her watch. “We’re going to be late. There’s so much to do.” She strode toward the door and turned back to look at Brenda, who hadn’t budged. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll be along soon.” Brenda spoke politely but didn’t seem ruffled in the least by Joanne’s expectations.

Joanne looked like she’d been slapped. Her head held high, she stepped out onto the front porch and disappeared from view.

Brenda sighed. “Joanne hasn’t been herself this trip. She’s incredibly high-strung anyway. She’s always efficient and work-oriented. She lives for the business she built. Eats, drinks, and breathes it. It’s her life. Her baby.”

“What kind of business is it?”

“It was very clever, really. She started out doing bookkeeping and payroll services all by herself. She added employees as the business grew. Then she opened a human resources division. It’s enormously successful. Suits her perfectly. I couldn’t do it. You have to be very precise.”

“What do you do?”

“I used to be a teacher.”

“That must involve some degree of precision,” I said.

She snorted. “It would drive Joanne out of her mind. When you teach, you have to roll with the punches. You never know what crazy thing some kid will do. Well, I’d better go check on Addi. She was quite distressed by Seth’s demise.”

“She knew him better than the rest of you?” I asked, trying to sound very casual.

“I suppose the two of us knew him better than most. He was a friend of my brother’s. His parents will be devastated. They’re nice people. He and my brother were apt to get into mischief, as boys will do. I am sorry to see him end this way. But, then, I’ve had so many losses in recent years that death seems to be the norm in my life now.”

“That’s very sad.”

“Isn’t it?” She appeared pensive. “I suppose now that he’s deceased it won’t matter anymore if I tell you privately that Addi was quite in love with Seth.”