The Wagtail Murder Club

Book 10: A Paws & Claws Mystery

by Krista Davis

Genres: General Fiction; Animals; Mystery; Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Animal Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Holly Miller gets much more than she bargained for when she rescues an adorable stray pup by the side of the road in this all-new Paws & Claws Mystery from New York Times bestselling author Krista Davis.

Holly Miller is on her way home to Wagtail, Virginia when she spots something in the grass not far from her car. It turns out to be an adorable black Labrador in a cage with a note attached to his collar. My name is Squishy. I am a very good boy. Please take good care of me. Holly takes Squishy home to the Sugar Maple Inn, which she owns with her grandmother, who also happens to be the mayor of Wagtail. They decide to foster Squishy at the Inn. Days later, Holly is surprised to see her ex-boyfriend Ben checking in with a group of his attorney colleagues who all seem to think that he and Holly are still an item!

Aided by Squishy, Holly’s rascally dog and cat find one of Ben’s fellow attorneys who has died from a non-accidental fall. Is the fiend a resident of Wagtail or a visitor? Holly bands together with her mom, grandmother, and beloved elderly Inn butler, Mr. Huckle, to uncover the killer and the truth about Squishy. Because nothing brings a town together like murder.

Release date: February 4, 2025

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 320

Sample

One

"There is a murderer among us."

My grandmother, whom I called Oma, German for grandma, had a great sense of humor. But she wasn't inclined to joke about the macabre. Maybe on Halloween. But it was springtime now. I stared into her blue eyes, hoping to find a twinkle of mischievousness. Her gaze held steady, and no hint of mirth twitched on her face. "I hope you're joking."

"Sadly, I am not."

"Someone was murdered?" While Wagtail had had its unfortunate share of deadly incidents, I was usually the first person to know about them because my Jack Russell terrier, Trixie, and my calico cat, Twinkletoes, had noses for murder. The two of them had an uncanny ability to find murder victims.

I looked down at Trixie, who was doing her best to annoy Oma's golden retriever, Gingersnap. Almost all white, Trixie had black ears and a large black spot on her rump that went halfway up her tail, which had not been cropped.

Twinkletoes could be a rascal, but her general demeanor was one of feline superiority. The elegant cat sat watching everything slyly through vivid green eyes. Her face and abdomen were mostly longish white fur. Her forehead bore two spots, one chocolate fudge and the other butterscotch, which made her look like she wore sunglasses on the top of her head. She often regarded the world Egyptian style, with her black tail wrapped around her white feet.

"No one has been murdered by this man recently," said Oma. "Not here, anyway. A man called Cooper Adams was convicted of murder. He has just been released from prison and decided to make Wagtail his home. Apparently, he is required to inform the police so we know that this Cooper now lives among us. His name rings a bell for me, but I don't know why."

Part of me wanted to be sympathetic toward Cooper, but a conviction for murder was hard to embrace. "Why? What brought him to Wagtail?"

"I do not know. It is all new to us." A faint smile crossed Oma's lips. "Zelda says the lunar eclipse is a time for new beginnings. Perhaps it is so for this Cooper."

"Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds? Maybe the murder was an accident, not intentional." I sought reasons to convince myself of that. "Maybe it was a stormy night and his car skidded and he hit someone."

"We are having a lunch meeting today where I will learn more."

Oma had brought me on at the inn so she could take it easy and travel, but then she went and got herself elected mayor of Wagtail, which meant she was busier than ever. One of the advantages, of course, was that I heard the town's scuttlebutt.

"Are you still going to Snowball?" she asked.

"I had planned to. Maybe I should stay here today instead."

"Zelda, Mr. Huckle, and Shadow will be here. And I will be a quick walk away. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Probably so. It was simply the shock of the news that caused me to reconsider. There really wasn't any reason to alter my plans or do anything differently, though.

"Be careful, liebchen."

I smiled at her and waved goodbye. Trixie and Twinkletoes followed me to the door. I held up my hand in the "stay" signal. With sad faces, they watched me leave. They would have more fun staying at the inn than shopping for it.

Six hours later, I was on my way home. From my car, I couldn't quite tell what the black thing was near the side of the road. The sun gleamed on it, but tall grasses obscured too much to see it clearly. As I drew closer, it appeared to move or change shape. I was nearly upon it when I realized that it was a black cage. A large black cage with something alive inside it.

Luckily, no cars were behind me. I swerved to the side, gravel crunching under my tires as the car slowed.

When I stepped out and ventured toward it, I paused in terror. Was that a baby bear trapped inside? I glanced around nervously. We were in the mountains of Virginia, well-known for being black bear territory, and where there was a baby, a large, angry, insane mama bear likely lurked nearby.

The black animal in the cage whined and yelped at me. A dog! Definitely a dog! I hurried over to the cage and looked into sad brown eyes. They pierced right through me. Poor baby! What was he doing out here all by himself?

He sat in a wire crate barely large enough for him to turn around in. His food bowl was empty and water, if there had ever been any, was long gone and the bowl lay upside down. A well-worn pink stuffed elephant and several other toys lay around his feet.

His situation was so strange that I wondered if someone could be watching. Was this a ploy to get unsuspecting strangers to stop? To steal a car? To mug them? I gazed around but didn't see anyone. Still, someone could be hidden in the dense trees about twenty feet away.

I hurried back to my car for a leash that I kept there for Trixie. She usually walked off-leash in Wagtail, but on the rare occasions when we left town, I felt it safer to attach a leash to my frisky girl's halter.

I returned to the dog and tried to gauge his temperament. He wagged his tail and licked the finger that I cautiously placed on the wire of the cage. Thanks to a generous donation, my cousin, who owned a rescue transport company called Fly Me Home, had been flying in a lot of dogs and cats who had been cast aside and ignored to the point of starvation, but this guy looked fairly well-fed. Despite his size, I suspected he was still a puppy. He had to be terrified, and who knew what he might have gone through to end up abandoned near the road, confined to a cage. Not all wounds showed.

I knew I didn't have the strength to pick up the cage with the dog in it. I squatted and dared to open the cage door just wide enough to reach one hand inside. He let me pet him and wagged his tail with joy. I reached toward his collar and snapped the leash on it. Moving slowly, I opened the cage door. He bolted out. Wriggling all over, he kissed my face repeatedly, knocking me off my feet.

I couldn't blame him. Poor guy. Who knew how long he'd been cooped up in that cage? Well, I groused silently, someone knew. The someone who had left him there.

When I stood up, he immediately wrapped the leash around my legs in happiness at being released from his awful confinement.

I laughed at him and untangled myself. "What are you doing here?"

He jumped on me with the exuberance of a puppy. Probably a Labrador, I thought, from the shape of his head and a tail that was meant to steer him when swimming. "What's your name, fella?"

He answered by kissing me again.

I didn't see tags on his collar, but I found a piece of paper taped onto it. I unfolded it and discovered a handwritten message.

My name is Squishy. I am a very good boy. Please take good care of me.

"Squishy?"

He wagged his tail with joy.

Dragging the cage behind me, I followed along as he proceeded toward my car as if he knew we had to go somewhere else. I stashed the crate in the back and Squishy hopped in to ride shotgun beside me. He was much larger than Trixie, but I managed to attach her seat belt to him. It wasn't perfect, but it was all I had.

I poured some of my bottled water into his bowl and he lapped it up, leading me to believe that he had been out there for a while.

As he drank, it dawned on me that someone had left him very close to the exit for Wagtail Mountain. The town of Wagtail was the premier vacation destination for people who wanted to travel with their pets. Dogs and cats were welcome everywhere in Wagtail. Restaurants had special menus for them. Stores catered to their every need, from collars and leashes to beds and specialized furniture to matching pajamas for people and their furry friends.

I put my car in gear and headed home toward the Sugar Maple Inn.

To protect two- and four-legged residents, cars were left at a parking lot just outside of town. I transferred my purchases to a Sugar Maple Inn golf cart and drove home. Squishy was a good sport and seemed to enjoy the open-air ride.

When we walked into the inn, Trixie, Twinkletoes, and Oma's golden retriever, Gingersnap, rushed us. They greeted me briefly but immediately focused on the newcomer. When I released Squishy from the leash, he romped with Trixie and Gingersnap.

Oma and our desk clerk, Zelda York, bombarded me with questions.

"Who is this dog? Where did he come from?" Oma liked to dress in what she called chic country style, which translated to skirts that fell below the knee, crisp blouses, and matching sweaters. She wore her wavy gray hair cut short and sassy, which suited her face and her personality.

Zelda claimed she could communicate with animals. I couldn't say either way, but she certainly seemed to know what they were thinking. She tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder and emerged from behind the registration desk to meet the dog.

"His name is Squishy."

"That is different," said Oma in the German accent she wanted to lose but I found charming. "How do you know this?"

"Squishy," cooed Zelda, scratching the folds of his furry face. "You are adorable! He's very happy to be here."

His tail wagged nonstop. You didn't have to be a dog psychic to know he was happy. Any dog would have been thrilled to be released from that cage.

"It was the strangest thing," I said. "He was in a crate near the Wagtail exit. And this-" I handed Oma the note I had found on him "-was on his collar."

"This was written by someone who cares about him, but it makes no sense," said Oma. "If you love a dog, then you do not leave him in a cage by the side of the road."

"That's right." Zelda nodded. "The person could easily have driven up to Wagtail and brought him to the shelter. Why wouldn't they do that?"

"Maybe they couldn't for some reason?" I threw out the suggestion because it was the only thing I could think of.

"You mean they were in a hurry? Or afraid someone would recognize them?" Zelda suggested.

"Perhaps the person was very young and failed to understand the danger to Squishy. He appears to be an agreeable dog," Oma observed. "No fighting or growling. He is well socialized."

"I bet they come back looking for him," said Zelda. "My heart would be so heavy with grief when I drove away that I couldn't take it."

"Me, either!" I said. "I'll call the shelter-"

Oma stroked Squishy gently and gazed into his melt-your-heart eyes. "Give them a picture and a description. We will keep him here with us and foster him. Yes?"

Zelda grinned and shot me a thumbs-up.

I was all in. The shelter would have had to find a foster home for him anyway. We could save them the trouble.

I pulled out one of the GPS collars we offered guests for their dogs and fastened it to his neck. If he took off, we would be able to locate him.

In the excitement of finding Squishy, I forgot to ask about Cooper Adams, the convicted murderer.

Two

In the morning, Oma smiled as she watched Squishy, Gingersnap, and Trixie romp in the empty reception lobby. Twinkletoes wasn't so sure about the new dog and watched him from a safe perch on the desk.

Harold Harvey stormed in. A large man, he had no trouble acting as a bouncer for his restaurant and bar, Tequila Mockingbird. As far as I knew, he was generally liked and even respected in Wagtail. Pointing at Oma, he said, "I need to have a word with you. What do you think you're doing allowing a murderer to live in Wagtail?"

I was taken aback by his threatening posture.

"Harold," Oma said softly, "won't you come into the office?"

As Harold trudged after her, I whispered to Zelda, "Call Shadow and get him down here." I didn't really think we needed backup, but Harold was about the maddest I had ever seen anyone.

Although I had not been invited to join them, I followed him into the office and sat down on a comfy chair. After all, there was safety in numbers. The dogs joined us but quieted down as if they understood there was trouble afoot.

Oma sat behind her desk and intertwined her fingers. "Harold, it's the law. Everyone is very sorry about your son, Jeff. His death was a terrible loss to all of us. I'm certain you must have been in the courtroom when Cooper Adams was tried."

"He should have received the death sentence. It was a miscarriage of justice. At the very least, he should have been incarcerated thirty or forty years. He should have had his opportunities for a good life taken away from him the way he took them from my boy."

"But twelve years is what he received," said Oma. "We cannot change that."

How could Oma keep her calm and speak so rationally?

"He served his sentence. He paid his debt to society," she said.

"The only way that man will ever pay his debt is if he brings Jeff back to life. An eye for an eye, they say." His voice weakened a bit, and he swiped at his eye with the back of his fist.

"He has been released according to the law and has the right to live freely wherever he likes."

"Not in Wagtail, he doesn't." He sounded gruff again and pointed his finger as if he meant to emphasize every word he said. "Mark my words, Liesel, there will be trouble in this town, and Cooper will be at the heart of it. And it will be your fault for allowing him to live here. You're the mayor! You need to run him off. What does he want here anyway?" He rose and planted his palms on Oma's desk, towering over her. "I'm telling you now that there will be blood on your hands if you allow him to live in this town."

"Harold, I cannot change the law." Oma stood, planted her own palms on the desk, and faced him, her head held high. "And you will treat him like any other citizen of Wagtail. Because that is his right. If you do not like the law, then I suggest you make efforts to change it."