A clue behind the bakery… a secret in the kennel. Ruby and her dog Biscuit follow a trail from Three Hounds Bakery’s alley to a midnight break-in at the kennels. Love cozy whodunits with dogs? This one’s for you.

Read the first two chapters—then follow the crumbs.

Chapter 1 — Welcome Back, Ruby

Maplewood hadn’t changed much in fifteen years.

The main street still smelled like cinnamon rolls and damp pine, the gas station still had that one flickering bulb above pump two, and half the storefronts still had hand-painted signs that leaned a little left.

Ruby Meadows parked her battered blue Subaru in front of Three Hounds Bakery and turned off the ignition with a sigh.

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In the passenger seat, Biscuit gave a soft woof, his stubby tail tapping rhythmically against the glove compartment.

“I know, I know,” Ruby said, glancing at the dog. “You’re not sure about this either.”

He tilted his head, one ear flopping over like a question mark.

Ruby wasn’t sure if he understood her words or just the tone, but Biscuit had always been more emotionally intelligent than most of her exes — which said a lot about both the dog and her dating history.

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She stepped out into the late September breeze, tugged her hoodie tighter, and opened the back hatch to grab her one suitcase, a dog bowl, and a half-empty bag of kibble. That was her life now. She and Biscuit, starting fresh in the town she’d sworn she’d never come back to.

“Let’s go meet the kennel lady,” she muttered, locking the car with a beep. Biscuit trotted beside her, his harness squeaking faintly with each bounce.

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The front door to Maplewood Kennels creaked like it hadn’t been oiled since the Clinton administration. A bell above it gave a jingle that sounded more like a warning than a welcome.

“Be right with you!” called a voice from the back.

The lobby smelled like peanut butter treats and disinfectant. Posters of happy Labradors and obedience class schedules covered the walls. Biscuit sniffed eagerly at a potted plant in the corner, then sat politely, tail sweeping the floor like a broom.

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A woman in her late sixties emerged from the hallway. She wore a forest-green apron, white sneakers, and a name tag that said Nancy — Owner/Alpha.

“Well, well,” she said, looking Ruby up and down. “You must be Ruby Meadows.”

Guilty as charged.

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“I am,” Ruby said with a smile. “And this is Biscuit. He’s mostly terrier, part drama queen.”

Nancy chuckled. “We could use both of those around here. C’mon, I’ll show you around. Hope you don’t mind dogs — we’ve got twelve boarding, five in obedience, and one diva Pomeranian who thinks she runs the joint.”

“Sounds like my kind of workplace.”

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The back of the kennel buzzed with motion — barking, tail thumping, the sound of leashes clinking like wind chimes. The dogs came in all sizes: a sleepy Great Dane curled up like a living rug, two yapping dachshunds in matching sweaters, a border collie pacing like it had to solve a math equation before dinner.

Ruby took it all in — and relaxed for the first time in days. It was noisy, sure, but it was familiar. Real. Not like the cold apartment she’d left behind in the city.

Nancy leaned in. “You’ll get used to the names. And the quirks. And probably the smell.”

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“I already have the smell part covered,” Ruby joked, holding up her dog-hair-covered hoodie.

Nancy gave a wheezy laugh. “That’s what I like to hear. Now — just one thing to mention…”

She paused at a door marked Storage.

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“There was… a bit of an incident out back yesterday morning.”

Ruby tensed. “Incident?”

Nancy gave a look that said don’t overreact but definitely take this seriously.

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“One of the staff found a purse. Not just any purse — Lenora Delaney’s. You remember her?”

Ruby blinked. “Lenora? The woman with the prize-winning poodles and personality of a porcupine?”

“The very one,” Nancy said, voice dropping. “She hasn’t been seen since Friday.”

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Ruby felt Biscuit brush against her leg, as if he sensed her discomfort.

“And get this,” Nancy continued. “One of the dogs went missing too. The new Pomeranian she was flaunting like a tiara.”

Ruby raised a brow. “So… missing dog and missing dog owner?”

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Nancy nodded grimly. “I’ve got a bad feeling. And I’ve learned to trust my gut.”

So had Ruby. And right now, it was twisting.

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Chapter 2 — The Man in the Baseball Cap

Biscuit didn’t bark, but he let out a low whuff as Ruby and Nancy passed through the side gate toward the outdoor kennels. The wind carried the scent of pine needles, damp concrete, and something else Ruby couldn’t quite place — something metallic, like the back of an old penny.

“This is where she usually parked,” Nancy said as her sneakers crunched the gravel. “Lenora. Right next to the staff entrance. But she never came in Saturday.”

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A dozen kennels lined the rear of the property. Most were filled — a sleepy beagle, two labs wrestling over a chew toy, a nervous collie pacing in circles.

But the last kennel on the left was empty. Door ajar. Bowl overturned.

“That was hers?” Ruby asked.

Nancy nodded.

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Biscuit sniffed along the gravel, nose twitching. He paused by a patch of flattened grass and sneezed twice.

Ruby crouched. “What is it, boy?”

A small object half-buried in the grass caught her eye. She reached down and picked up a pink, heart-shaped tag attached to a rhinestone collar.

Tinkerbell.

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Nancy’s breath caught. “That’s it. That’s the dog’s collar.”

“No blood,” Ruby noted. “But no dog, either.”

Nancy looked grim. “I filed a report, but Maplewood PD is more ‘parking ticket’ than ‘missing person.’”

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Ruby turned the collar in her hand. Rhinestones glinting. Something didn’t sit right.

Outside the gate, a dark blue SUV pulled into the gravel lot. A man in khakis and aviators stepped out, all teeth and no warmth.

“Mark Delaney,” Nancy muttered. “Nephew.”

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He glanced at Ruby. “You new?”

“Depends who’s asking,” she said.

“My aunt was last seen here,” he said. “I’m sure the police will take care of it.” He turned back to the SUV without waiting for an answer.

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Biscuit gave a quiet woof. Ruby scratched behind his ear.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a case, buddy.”

Turn the page—Biscuit’s nose just caught the first scent.