A Purrfect Alibi

Thirteen

On the walk to the car, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw my daughter’s name on the display. “Oh, it’s Emma. I’m going to take this.”

My mom’s eyes lit up and she yelled into the phone as I was answering, “Hi, honey! Hope you’re having a good time.”

“Was that Grandma?” Emma asked as I pressed the phone to my ear and sidled away from my mother.

“Yep, we’re downtown shopping.” I moved further away because my mother looked as if she was going to grab the phone. Mom was in the habit of blurting out all kinds of things to Emma that I really wished she wouldn’t. Like things about dead bodies in the guesthouse and my non-existent love life.

“I talked to her earlier. I hear you have another dead body, another murder,” Emma said.

See what I mean?

“Oh that? It’s nothing to worry about. The police have it under control.” I glanced back at Mom and Millie who were obviously listening in. The raised brow look they shared didn’t escape me and I moved further away.

“Well, if you say so, Mom. I guess by now you know how to handle them.” Emma laughed. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I was touched that my grown daughter, who now worked for the FBI, was checking in on me. “I’m fine!” I hoped my forced, chipper tone didn’t come across as sounding false. “You know me, steady as she goes. Same old, same old.”

“Uh-huh. So things are going good at the guesthouse? You’re getting a lot of bookings?”

My stomach churned remembering the cancellation this morning. “Yes, it’s going really well. The renovations are on track and pretty soon I’ll have made back my investment and be sitting pretty.” A slight lie depending on one’s definitions of pretty soon and sitting pretty.

“That’s great, Mom.”

“How are things going with you?” I steered the conversation to her, which was much more interesting for me anyway.

“Work is going great! I’m getting a vacation in a couple of months and I thought I’d come out and visit.”

Panic shot through me. What would happen when she came to visit? Would there be a dead body? Would she and my mother gang up on me about Mike? I took a deep breath. She’d said a couple of months. No need to panic now. Besides, my desire to see my daughter outweighed everything else. “That would be great.”

“Okay. Good. We’ll make plans later on. Gotta run, break time is over.” She clicked off and I put the phone back in my pocket.

“Emma is doing good, it seems,” Mom said.

“Yes, she is.” I knew Mom wanted to know more about the conversation, but I wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction. Besides, she’d already overheard everything on my end.

Millie had wandered down two stores and was gesturing toward the window. “Boodles is having a huge purse sale!”

Mom rushed over and I followed at a more sedate pace. The store was a cute boutique with a pink-and-yellow striped awning and displays of designer purses in the window. A little red leather clutch with a studded butterfly design caught my eye, but the last thing I could afford was to buy a purse—especially now that someone had cancelled.

“You guys go ahead and shop. I’m going to visit with Jen at the post office.”

“Okay, dear, we’ll meet you there in a half hour,” Millie called over her shoulder, as she disappeared into the store.

Jen Summers had been my best friend all through school. Even when I’d moved away, we’d kept in touch. One of the positive things about moving back was reconnecting with her and it was as if the decades in between had never happened.

Jen was the postmistress for Oyster Cove, and I have to admit that did come in handy when investigating a murder, as I’d found myself doing all too often this summer. The post office was the grapevine for the town and if there was anything to be learned about this movie producer or the murder at the guesthouse, I’d hear it there.

As I opened the door to the old brick post office, Mrs. Pennyfeather was leaving. I held the door and she scooted as far away from me as she could, crossed herself and rushed out into the street.

Jen was behind the counter.

“What’s with Mrs. Pennyfeather?”

Jen’s left brow quirked up. “Words gotten out you had another murder and something about a ghost. I think she’s a little worried you might be the devil.”

“Great. Is that what people are saying?” I crossed the old black-and-white marble floors to the counter. The Oyster Cove post office was a wonderful throwback to the 1930s, with its oak-paneled doors, wainscoting, brass fixtures, gold stenciling and frosted glass. It even had the vanilla-tinged scent of old paper.

Jen was replacing the roll of labels in the machine that printed out priority mail stickers. “It’s no secret that you have all those psychics and mediums up at your place. They’ve been running around town telling fortunes and offering to contact deceased relatives.”

“Yeah. But no ghost.”

“So you say. People seem to think there really is one, though. What happened?”

I told her all about my unusual guests and included the details of how we’d found Madame Zenda with the note and buckle.

“Agnes Withington just told us that a television producer is in town asking about the guesthouse. I think it’s weird timing, especially with Anita Pendragon lurking around outside the mansion.” I picked a chocolate kiss out of the bowl Jen kept on the counter. Today she had the ones with the almonds inside. I like the solid chocolate better, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“What was she doing there?” Jen squinted into the machine and pulled out a ripped piece of sticker backing.

“At first I assumed she was trying to get information for a story. The psychic guests came because of the discovery of Jed’s skeleton. They’re attempting to communicate with him and find out where the treasure is.” I popped another kiss into my mouth. “But seeing as she’s the one that found Madame Zenda’s body and claims not to have seen anyone else around…”

Jen glanced up at me from the machine. “You think she could’ve killed her? Why? Seems like she’d want to keep her alive so she could get the story from Jed.”

Jen had a point. If Anita thought there really was a ghost and she killed off Madame Zenda, she’d be killing off the cash cow. “I think all this ghost business is malarkey. Someone is just hyping it up for their own purposes. What if Anita found out Madame Zenda was a fake? She saw all her hopes for an exclusive article and possibly selling the rights to the movie producer go out the window, so she killed her and staged it so she could make up some story about how the ghost killed Madame Zenda.”

Jen pointed to the Oyster Cove Gazette on the counter. “She’s already published the story. Front page, too.”

I glanced over to see the headline: Ghostly Murder at Oyster Cove Guesthouse. That was sure to go over great with Myron and any potential guests.

Jen slammed the machine shut and pressed a button. The stickers advanced and she ripped off the first one and then leaned against the counter opposite me. “What are the police saying?”

“Millie hasn’t been able to get anything out of Seth thus far.”

“Maybe Millie needs to ramp up her efforts to extract information from him.” Jen was quite familiar with the methods Millie used to get information out of Seth and we both made a face. Neither one of us needed that visualization.

“I just hope it gets solved quickly. Myron seems very nervous about the loan. He’s afraid that it’ll hurt business at the guesthouse and I won’t be able to make the monthly payments.”

“Myron’s annoying. Maybe it will help business.”

“I don’t know. Someone did cancel this morning.”

“Maybe they were sick or getting a divorce or had some other reason to cancel.” Jen’s gaze drifted over my shoulder and the lines around her lips tightened. “Crap. Here he comes now.”

“Who?” I turned around just as Myron opened the door and trotted in, trailing an air of importance behind him.

“Josie! I’m glad I’ve caught you here,” Myron said.

“Me too,” I lied.

“I need to talk to you about this business at the guesthouse. I’m very worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Myron. It’s just a simple murder. I mean, it’s highly unlikely word would get out to anyone coming here to stay. Most of the guests are from out of town.” I leaned my arm on the paper to cover up the headline just in case he hadn’t seen it yet and conveniently didn’t mention the cancellation from that morning.

Myron scowled. “Be that as it may, it’s no good having those people in the guesthouse. You don’t know what they’re going to do next. Maybe even something ungodly like a seance. I say you need to get rid of them before something else happens.”

“What could possibly happen that’s worse than a murder?” I asked.

Myron shuddered. “Who knows with that ghost running about and all that.”

“Myron, you don’t actually believe in ghosts, do you?” Jen asked.

Myron straightened his blue silk paisley tie and pursed his lips together. “Of course not, but something’s going on up there and it’s not good.” He turned to me. “Anyway, I need to stop by later. I left my pen and notebook there and I need my notes.”

“Okay, I’m heading back soon.” The thought of seeing Myron twice in one day was not appealing; maybe I could just put his pen and notebook in the foyer.

The door opened and Mom and Millie bustled in, narrowing their eyes at Myron.

“Myron.” Millie nodded at him, then turned to me. “Josie, it’s time to go now. Are you ready?”

“Definitely.” I waved at Jen and let them pull me away. When I got to the door, I looked over my shoulder at Myron. “Stop by anytime. I’m headed home now.”

Outside Millie let go of my elbow. “He’s stopping by? Told you he had a crush.”

“Never mind Myron. Did you find anything out from Jen?” Mom asked.

“I didn’t find out much. Except that the murder and the ghost made the headlines. And it appears that Myron is getting more nervous about the loan he gave me.”