The Ghost and Mrs. Mewer (A Paws and Claws Mystery Book 2) by Krista Davis Read Free Book Online

cleaner.
    Twinkletoes shot through the pet door and screeched to a halt at the sight of us. Arching her back like a Halloween cat, she danced sideways for a few steps, then changed direction and flew out the pet door. Trixie scrambled after her. At least they were having fun.
    Twinkletoes had shown up at the inn on her own before I adopted her. She was probably happy to be back where she had room to roam. My house in Arlington, Virginia, was tiny compared to the inn. Thanks to the booming real estate market there, I had rented it out for an amount that covered the mortgage and left me with a little stream of income.
    After washing the bowls, I took Trixie outside for a quick stop at the doggy bathroom. Back inside, I spied the blonde woman pacing the second floor hallway. I considered asking if she needed something but she disappeared into a room.
    We trudged up the stairs to our quarters but Trixie had stopped bounding ahead of me. We had both run out of steam.
    In my own little kitchen, I spooned shrimp supper into a bowl for Twinkletoes, slid into a nightshirt, and snuggled happily under the down comforter on my bed. Trixie turned in a circle three times before plopping next to my hip, and Twinkletoes soon bounded onto the bed and settled near my head.
    *   *   *
    The phone rang in the dead of night. I groped for it in the darkness and mumbled, “Hello?”
    “Holly, is that you?”
    My Aunt Birdie. I closed my eyes and lay back on my pillow. “Yes.”
    “Dear, I need help.”
    I rolled over enough to peer at the clock. “Birdie, it’s four in the morning.”
    “I’m sorry. Have I inconvenienced you? I’ll just lie here in pain. What’s a better time to call?”
    Aargh. Guilt surged through me. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “I’ll call the ambulance.”
    “No! Don’t do
that
! I’m in my nightie.”
    “Aunt Birdie, I’m sure they’ve seen nightgowns before.”
    “Not mine, they haven’t. And they’re not going to, either.”
    I slid my legs over the side of the bed. “Okay, I’m on my way.”
    “Thank you, dear.”
    Grumbling under my breath, I pulled on jeans and a turtleneck, and grabbed a jacket and my purse, in case I had to go to the hospital with her.
    Trixie and Twinkletoes followed me to the door. “You guys better stay here this time.”
    I locked the door behind me and trotted downstairs through a silent inn. As I passed through registration, I told Casey where I was going just in case a trip to the hospital was involved and I wasn’t back by breakfast.
    I fired up one of the inn’s electric golf carts and headed for Birdie’s house. Wagtail slumbered. A breeze scattered dried leaves, and the moon cast a strong beam through bare branches. Porch lights and a few pumpkins glowed in the night, but no lights shone in houses yet. Except at Aunt Birdie’s, where the windows were ablaze.
    Two black witches’ brooms rested upside down on her front porch. Pumpkin-colored pillows created an inviting vignette on the white wicker settee until I noticed that a faux bat hung upside down in the black birdcage on the table next to it. Huh. I never knew Birdie had a sense of humor.
    She had clustered pumpkins around a chair that held an elaborate flower arrangement containing sunflowers and wickedly wild grapevines that jutted out in odd directions. And right next to it, a faux skeleton perched on a closed coffin. His legs were crossed, as though he were simply taking a break.
    I walked up the steps and it dawned on me that her door was probably locked. How ironic that I might now be the one trying to break in. I knocked as a formality, then tried the doorknob. The door readily swung open.
    Birdie stood in her foyer wearing bright red lipstick that matched a chic dress. Years ago, she would have been called a handsome woman. Her face was attractive, almost beautiful, but the sour expression she always wore took it down a notch. She was painfully thin. The skin on her face clung tightly to prominent