A Christmas to Dismember, Addison Moore [howl and other poems .TXT] 📗

dogs? Because at this rate he’ll need them.

Sherlock gives a soft bark. Someone spilled some water and I was kind enough to help get it off the floor. I can’t help it. That stuff goes right through me.

Jasper twists his lips down at his cute pooch. “I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what he needs. I’ll take him out to the garden.”

“I’ll go with you.”

We exit through the side door that leads to a dark wooded area with a fountain illuminating the blue cobbled path that snakes throughout the property. The moon is high overhead, it’s bitter cold and snowy out, and the only sound is the quiet rush of that fountain.

“It’s bliss out here,” I say as Fish jumps out of my arms.

Sherlock trots off to the grass to our left just as Fish lets out a sharp yowl.

Bizzy, I think you need to see this. She jumps on all fours with her back arched, her fur standing on end.

“Hey”—I quickly make my way over to the fountain where she stands frozen solid on the edge of the bottom tier—“what’s the matter? Is the water splashing you a bit too much?” I’m about to pick her up when I spot what looks to be a hand floating in the fountain as the water swirls pink around it. “Jasper?” I call him over. “Do you think this is left over from Halloween?” I’m not sure why I asked the question, but my mind demands I make sense of the sight.

“Let’s find out.” He picks a stick off the ground and is about to jab at it when Sherlock lets out several riotous barks at something near the woods and I spot that sweet puppy with its red ribbon tied around his collar and that red plastic nose of his blinking on and off like a beacon.

Jasper and I head that way and I gasp at the sight.

Lying on the ground is Quinn Bennet with his eyes open as he looks to the sky, the blade of an axe buried deep in his chest, and his left hand is noticeably and horrifically missing.

Quinn Bennet isn’t going to have to worry about throwing the best holiday party Cider Cove has ever seen.

Quinn Bennet is dead.

Chapter 3

“He’s dead,” I pant the words out as Jasper pulls me a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, Bizzy,” Jasper says as he looks past me over at the body. “I’m going to call it in. I need you to take the animals out of here. I’ll text Leo. Stay safe and stay away from anyone acting suspiciously.”

Jasper takes a few steps back toward the corpse as he quickly makes that call, and I take the moment to sweep the area with my gaze.

Dotting the lapel of Quinn’s suit jacket is a single red bead, the color of blood, and in the shape of a tear. I have a feeling I know exactly where that came from—Angelica Chatfield’s dress. A single white glove lies a few feet away, smeared with blood on it. And just behind that there are tiny paw prints in the snow that lead right up to the special angel Santa gifted to Quinn earlier this evening.

“Come here, sweetie,” I say, carefully making a circle around Quinn as I scoop the shivering sweet baby boy off the snow. I gather Fish in my other arm and Sherlock bounds up next to me. “Jasper, there’s a red bead on his jacket.” The words stream frantically from me. “And there’s a glove next to the body. And his hand, it’s—”

“I know.” He looks up from the phone and nods just as the area is miraculously flooded with deputies.

My feet carry me inside to the bustle of voices, now sounding far more worried than they are merry, just as Leo finishes speaking to the crowd from the stage.

The puppy barks then whimpers and Fish pats him gently on the nose.

My name is Fish, and the moving carpet is Sherlock Bones. And don’t worry about the woman carrying you. Her name is Bizzy and she can hear your thoughts and mine.

Sherlock barks up at us. She can understand you, too.

Fish lets out a gurgle of a meow. Only if you’re saying something intelligible.

The tiny pup growls and whimpers. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do or say. Where is that ball they put on my nose? I just want to chew on it and go back to sleep.

“Rudolph?” I look into his sweet brown eyes. “Do you mind if I call you that?”

He gives a soft bark. I don’t see why not. I have no other name.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” I whisper. “Did you happen to see anyone out there with Quinn before he—”

Fell? He barks.

I nod. We’ll go with that.

The cute puppy squirms as he glances to the ceiling. I heard voices. A man and a woman.

“A woman was talking to Quinn?”

A woman was talking to another man. I didn’t see their faces, and then I got lost in the woods. When I came back, Quinn was already asleep.

Sherlock moans. A woman and a man. There could have been two killers.

Fish pats Rudolph on the head with her tail. It doesn’t matter if there were twenty killers, Rudolph. Bizzy could find them all.

“Here’s hoping I can track down whoever did this no matter how many guilty parties there are. He was the owner of this inn. My boss. This just got personal.”

The murmurs in the room grow to impossible decibels as Georgie swoops over with Juni in tow.

“Give me a baby.” Georgie plucks Rudolph right out of my hands. “Something has gone terribly wrong, Bizzy. There’s a bomb on the premises.”

“A what?” I squawk in disbelief.

“No, no.” Juni bats her away. “Some teenager said this was the bomb. There’s a body on the grounds. Leo says there’s been a crime committed. Rumors are circulating that there’s a jewel thief in the room. Trust me, there’s