Murder Most Howl: A Paws & Claws Mystery Read Online Free PDF

Mr. Huckle would be staying there during her absence. I loved Mr. Huckle, but having him live in the inn to watch over me was the equivalent of having a babysitter. Formerly a butler for a wealthy family in Wagtail,he was ancient and proper in a way that made me want to pull my shoulders back and stand straighter, but he was a dear man. Oma claimed he lent a dignified air to the inn, which was undoubtedly true, but the reality was that she wanted to give him a job when he found himself unexpectedly unemployed.
    I knocked on the door. The moment Mr. Huckle opened it, Trixie jumped up and placed her paws on his knees. He bent to pat her. I was surprised to see the wizened little man in the formal attire he favored for work. It was almost as though he’d been waiting for me.
    Mr. Huckle jumped at the opportunity to help. I wasn’t sure if it was just his nature or years of being a butler that made him eager to be of assistance. Whatever the reason, I was glad to have him around in spite of my initial resentment.
    While we walked downstairs, I told Mr. Huckle about losing our handyman. “Know of anyone who might be interested in the job?” I asked.
    Mr. Huckle took a beat too long to respond. “Perhaps that’s something your grandmother would prefer to take up upon her return.”
    Hmmpf. I hadn’t expected that response. We needed a handyman now. Besides, this was something I could handle. I was perfectly capable of hiring someone. I let the topic slide and moved on to the project of setting up chairs.
    Mr. Huckle, Shelley, and I formed an assembly line of sorts to bring extra chairs up from the basement. I refrained from mentioning to Mr. Huckle that a handyman would have been helpful. In the basement, I hauled the chairs onto the elevator and pressed the button for the main floor. Shelley took them off the elevator and carried them to Mr. Huckle, who arranged them in the Dogwood Room and the adjoining lobby.
    Once a grand home, the inn had been expanded and updated over the years. It was situated in a prime location between the end of Wagtail’s pedestrian zone and Dogwood Lake. The original lobby and grand staircase faced a plaza and the green, where people strolled with their dogs and cats.Each side of the green was lined with sidewalks, where most of the stores and restaurants were located.
    Oma had renovated recently, moving the official reception lobby to a new addition on the west side of the inn. We’d discovered, though, that it was wiser to keep an eye on the front door of the old lobby because that was where most people came and went.
    At my insistence, we had added an elegant concierge desk, where Mr. Huckle could take a load off his feet when he wasn’t busy elsewhere. At night, we now locked the reception lobby on the side. The night manager worked at the desk in the old lobby. A buzzer at the reception door rang at the concierge desk if someone arrived after dark. So far it was working out fairly well.
    I dusted off my jeans and joined Mr. Huckle, Shelley, and the cook in the Dogwood Room, which was open to the old lobby and the grand staircase. Outside the two-story windows, snow gently drifted through the air. A fire blazed and my calico kitten, Twinkletoes, who was getting bigger by the day and was more of an adolescent now, was curled up in front of it, snoozing with her black tail over her pink nose, the cat equivalent of a Do Not Disturb sign.
    Trixie danced toward her carefully but had the good sense to leave the sleeping cat alone.
    “Looks great!” I said.
    The cook appraised our work. “I guess we’ll serve some simple appetizers and munchies? Hot chocolate, decaf coffee and tea, and a warm grog?”
    I nodded. “Works for me. Thanks for staying late to help out.”
    “If I may make a suggestion, Miss Holly, perhaps we should bring out some candles and candelabra, just in case we lose power as well.” Mr. Huckle bestowed a gracious smile on me when I agreed.
    On my way to the third-floor