When a famous pooch comes to Wagtail for some downtime, inn owner Holly Miller learns that murder never rests in this all-new Paws & Claws mystery in the New York Times bestselling series. America's favorite dog comes to pet-friendly Wagtail for some rest and relaxation, but Holly quickly discovers that this perfect pup is a total scamp who takes every opportunity to run off and misbehave. During an outdoor treasure-hunting game, the star dog and Trixie, Holly's beloved Jack Russell terrier, stumble across a dead body. Holly has more than murder to worry about, though, when a man shows up after reading an article featuring Trixie in a magazine and claims that he is the dog's rightful owner. Holly will need to prove that she is her pup's only parent and catch a killer to restore peace to her pet-loving happy place. Krista Davis is the New York Times bestselling author of the Paws & Claws Mysteries, as well as the Domestic Diva Mysteries. One Most cats would have fled from all the barking and yipping. But Twinkletoes, my long-haired calico, took it in stride. She sat on top of the desk in the main lobby of the Sugar Maple Inn and yawned as if the commotion was perfectly normal. A caramel spot and a chocolate spot on top of her head looked like she had shoved sunglasses above her brow. Her green eyes almost glowed as she peered at me. "You're very brave," I whispered to her. She mewed and rubbed her head against my hand, twisting as if she wanted to make the most of being stroked. My grandmother, Liesel Miller, whom I called Oma, German for grandma, joined me in the main lobby, where the grand staircase led up to the rooms. It was the hub of the inn, where guests gathered to eat in the dining area or to lounge in the Dogwood Room, which wasn't actually a room. It was all one large open space, divided by the grand staircase. Opposite the stairs was the front door, which led out to a covered porch and, beyond that, the town of Wagtail. In the accent that I found charming but she wished to lose, Oma said, "It is Pippinmania! I have never seen such a thing." "I guess they're not exaggerating when they call Pippin 'America's Favorite Dog.'" I had thought that was some kind of clever marketing ploy, but if these people were any indication, it was true. In the dining area of the inn, adults and children wore fake-fur dog ears in a creamy white color. The ears stood up at the base of the headband that held them on, but the tops flopped over. They were quintessential puppy ears. The people barked. And yowled. And the dogs who were with them joined in, undoubtedly confused about their humans trying to speak canine. Fridays were always busy, but this was highly unusual. My own Jack Russell terrier, Trixie, sat at my feet, watching and listening as if she didn't know quite what to make of it all. She would be meeting Pippin shortly when he arrived with his costars in an upcoming TV show for what had been billed as a much-deserved vacation for Pippin in Wagtail. With fans like these, I suspected he wouldn't be getting much rest. "They say it is like this all over Wagtail. The merchants are thrilled. We aren't the only ones who have a full house. Everyone is booked." Oma smiled at the craziness. "You would think Cary Grant was coming!" If I recalled correctly, Mr. Grant had passed away. "I think you'd get a bigger crowd than this if that happened." Fortunately, she understood my meaning and chuckled. Her smile faded too quickly, though. In a low voice she said, "Another dog is missing." "No!" As Oma was the mayor of Wagtail, that kind of problem fell directly into her lap. It had been odd when the Hoovers' beloved Yorkshire terrier disappeared the day before, but we hoped she had simply gotten lost and would turn up. News of a second missing dog changed everything. Now it was an ominous pattern. "This time it's Clara Dorsey's Scottie. Two dogs in two days. We have to stop this. For the sake of the dogs, but also for the well-being of Wagtail. If this kind of news gets out, people will be afraid to bring their dogs here." "Did anyone see anything this time?" Oma shook her head. "He was there one moment and gone the next. Some people fear that it is a coyote. They tell me that these creatures are very wily." I shuddered. "Has anyone seen a coyote?" "No," she said emphatically. "They say coyotes are everywhere in the United States, but none have been spotted on Wagtail Mountain or Snowball Mountain. Some speculate that Wagtail is not a popular place for coyotes due to the number of large dogs here. No, I fear it may be something else entirely . . ." I tried to gauge her expression. It wasn't difficult. She was clearly very upset. "The dogs weren't wearing GPS collars?" I asked. "The Scottie was. Officer Dave is trying to track him down right now. I am crossing my fingers that they will find him. Clara has a reputation for dipping into the cooking sherry whe