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

seriously good-looking man roamed past their aisle, distracting me. Short hair the color of coffee beans had outgrown its cut just enough to be charmingly ruffled. He wore the haven’t-shaved-in-a-couple-of-days look. Boots, jeans, T-shirt, green army jacket—he could have walked out of an ad for cowboys.
    He pretended to study some bins of nails, but it appeared to me that he was actually watching Clementine and her children.

Seven

    Clementine spotted him, too. Her eyes widened in fear. She wasted no time grabbing the hands of the two boys. “Emily, let’s go.” She dodged out the other end of the aisle and through the store to the entrance, where she beat a hasty exit.
    The good-looking guy ambled toward the front and exited the store a beat behind her.
    I set my items on a display rack and dashed outside with Trixie to see if Clementine needed help. Holding the boys’ hands, she ran as well as anyone could in those shoes. Her daughter raced ahead of her.
    The man pretended to window-shop. When Clementine and her troop turned the corner, he picked up his pace. Trixie and I did, too.
    By the time we reached the corner, they had all vanished. I paused and listened for any sound of distress. If the guy had nabbed them, surely he wouldn’t be able to keep those two boys quiet.
    A pebble shot toward us on the sidewalk. Trixie sniffed it, but I looked in the direction from which it had come.
    A darling one-story shingled house was set back a bit on a heavily landscaped lot. The sign near the sidewalk identified it as Pampered Pet Portraits. A large show window at the front of the house displayed stunning paintings of animals. Trixie and I strolled toward it.
    “Don’t come over here.” It was little more than a frantic hiss.
    “Clementine?” I peered behind a row of manicured boxwoods.
    Clementine crouched with her children, holding a hand over each of her sons’ mouths. “Is he gone?”
    “I think so.”
    “Make sure.”
    I casually returned to the sidewalk and gazed around. If he was hiding, I didn’t think
he’d
toss a pebble my way.
    We doubled back, and I pretended to admire the portraits in the window. “I don’t see him, but he could be hiding.”
    “Ouch!” Clementine stood up. “What did I tell you about biting?” She grabbed the boys’ hands. “Thanks, Holly.” Her eyes canvassed the area so fast that it made me dizzy.
    “Clementine, do you need help? Maybe you should come to the inn.”
    “No, no! We’re good, thanks.” She took off down the street with her three children.
    “That was strange, wasn’t it?” I asked Trixie as we walked back to the store. I didn’t know what Trixie was thinking, but I pondered what I had seen. If the man had been her husband, surely the children would have run to their dad. Was her ex the type who would hire someone to spy on her?
    I would have to ask Oma if she knew anything about Clementine’s domestic problems when I returned to the inn. I paid for my purchases and stepped outside, keeping an eye out for the mysterious man.
    It dawned on me that Hair of the Dog wasn’t too far away. It wouldn’t hurt to nose around a little bit for Zelda’s sake. “C’mon, Trixie. Let’s ask a few questions.”
    Trixie wagged her agreement and happily sniffed everything her nose could reach on the way to the pub. Located in a Tudor-style building with outdoor tables in the front, the pub was a source of aggravation for some townspeople who hated the noise when it closed at two in the morning. We stepped inside. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.
    A chalkboard advertised Bewitching Brews, Spooky Spirits, and Monster Burgers.
    The woman behind the bar pushed back hair the color of Kahlúa. She tilted her head at me. “What can I get you, Holly Miller?”
    I didn’t remember her from my recent visit. It seemed like I would have. She had a girl-next-door face and a don’t-mess-with-me attitude. She wasn’t much taller than me, but she