It was a truth in police work, and probably many other fields, that people lied. Sometimes it was a big lie and sometimes a small one. The trick was figuring out which it was and how it related to the case.
Baxter loped back to us without the snowball and waited for Seth to make him another one. Tuffy barely cleared the snowdrifts and after finishing his business, pawed at Seth to pick him up.
“He’s covered in snow,” I said. “We better get him inside and dried off.”
We turned and made our way back to the hotel. Holly came out of the cottage as we passed and said it was ready.
“I’ll ask Kirk to clear a path from here to the back door so your parents can get in and out easily,” she said as we walked back together.
“It feels like we’re all going to be stuck here for a while. Unless we use the snowmobiles to shuttle everyone out of here.”
“Well, now that the power is back on, it won’t be too difficult to tolerate.”
She held the door for us and we went just inside the door with the dogs.
“Do you have any old towels we could use to dry off the dogs?”
She nodded, went down the hall toward the kitchen, and came back with a pile of fluffy white towels that looked anything but old.
“You can use these. Maybe you can put one on the floor there so they don’t drip too much.”
She patted Baxter and he leaned into her hand. Tuffy stretched his head forward to sniff her leg while Baxter distracted her. Tuffy seemed satisfied she wasn’t dangerous because he stepped closer and wagged his tail. Holly bent down and rubbed his ear. Tuffy sat and looked at her adoringly.
“Wow, he doesn’t usually like strangers,” Seth said.
Holly shrugged. “Dogs typically like me. It’s cats that I have a hard time winning over.”
“If you’re talking about the white cat, she seems to be nothing but trouble,” I said.
“She’s not so bad,” Seth said. “She just got scared of Baxter.”
“Duchess? She’s been in a snit since Ms. Carlisle moved here,” Holly said. “I used to find her up in the turret room sleeping in the sunshine in the window. I think when she had to share her room, she got mad.”
“She didn’t belong to Clarissa?”
Holly snorted. “Hardly. They barely tolerated each other.” She lowered her voice. “They were too much alike. Predatory and entitled.” Her eyes grew large and she put her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
I was surprised by how easily she had criticized her dead boss, but remembering the way Clarissa had berated her, I couldn’t really blame her.
I held up my hand. “Don’t worry about it. Already forgotten,” I said. But I did file it away to mention to Mac later.
18
Vi strode into the hall just as we were finishing with the dogs. They were still damp and filled the hall with that distinct wet dog odor.
“Here you are! We’ve been looking for you. Lunch is set up in the dining room.”
“Oh good, I’m starving,” Seth said.
“You just ate!” I said.
“That was just a snack. What’s for lunch?”
Vi waved her arm in the direction of the dining area and Seth disappeared down the hall.
I stood there holding the leashes and wondering what to do with the guys.
“I just had something to eat—you go ahead and I’ll guard the dogs. As long as that cat doesn’t show up again, I should be fine.”
“Thanks, Vi. I’ll be quick and then we can get them out to the cottage. Holly said it’s ready.”
She nodded and knelt to talk to Baxter and Tuffy.
Everyone crowded around Dad in the dining room, congratulating him and thanking him for fixing the generator. He glowed with all the attention.
I filled a plate with pasta salad and half of a sandwich and sat at an empty table. Mac came to the door and scanned the room—his face lit up when he saw me. He wore the blue snowman sweater and pink plaid Bermuda shorts. As he walked toward me, conversations dwindled.
I tried to control the smile that spread across my face, but couldn’t.
He twirled for the knitters and took a bow. Everyone clapped and went back to their discussions.
“I asked Holly to put my jeans in the wash, but it’ll be a little while,” he said.
“If anyone can pull off that look—and I’m not saying it’s possible—you can.” I laughed when I noticed his white socks and boots.
“Baxter isn’t getting any treats from me for a while. I’m just glad the soup was cold.”
“Go get some food,” I said. “Maybe not the bouillabaisse . . .”
He nodded and returned a few minutes later with a loaded plate.
“Your dad is the hero of the hour, I see.” He tilted his head toward Dad, who stood in the center of the young-knitter contingent. He moved on from talk of generators to teaching them his ten-code vocabulary gleaned through his police scanner hobby.