A Purrfect Alibi

Fifteen

I filled in Mom and Millie on what I’d found out at the post office on our way back to the guesthouse.

“You’d think if they were real psychics they’d know who killed Madame Zenda,” Millie said as we let ourselves in through the back door in the kitchen.

“Good point,” Mom said. “Kinda proves they’re fakes.”

“Which means the killer wasn’t a ghost,” I added.

Thud!

We all looked up at the ceiling. “Did that come from the attic?” Mom asked.

“Don’t think so. Kind of loud.” Millie walked around the kitchen, her eyes still glued to the ceiling. “I’d be surprised if we could hear something from the attic two floors below.”

“Must be the cats,” Mom said.

Of course it was the cats, you never knew what they would be getting up to, though usually they were a lot more silent and sneaky.

“Probably knocked something over.” Millie turned her attention away from the ceiling, opened the fridge and started to rummage around. “Have you thought about what you’ll serve for breakfast tomorrow? Even with all this going on the guesthouse has to keep its reputation for fine breakfasts. We don’t need to have another reason for people to think about canceling.”

Shoot! I’d completely forgotten about that. My mind raced to think up the quickest and easiest meal, but I didn’t want Millie to know I was thinking ‘quick and easy’. “I was thinking we should go with something that I can heat up in the morning, like a frittata. And then I could make some waffles too. The sugar will set off those feel-good endorphins and they won’t be worried about the fact that one of them could get murdered next.”

Millie scowled at me. “Do you really think someone else might get murdered? It looked like Madame Zenda’s murder had a specific purpose.”

“Yeah,” Mom chimed in. “I don’t think anyone else is in danger.”

“Probably not, but I can whip up the batter in the morning and cook them hot in the waffle maker for them. I have some spinach I need to use up, I can put that in the eggs.” No sense in wasting food, and I needed to be frugal, just in case.

“Sounds good.” Millie disappeared into the fridge and came out with the ingredients for the frittata.

Mom pushed in beside Millie and pulled out some string cheese. “That’s smart thinking,” she said as she pulled off a string from the cheese and dangled it into her mouth. “Everyone loves a sweet and savory combo and maybe that will have them raving about the breakfast and talking about the dead body not so much.”

Millie put the spinach, eggs, milk and cheese on the counter and preheated the oven.

The cats appeared in the kitchen and trotted over to sniff at the oven, then fixed me with their intelligent eyes. I was relieved to see that Nero had dust on his whiskers, indicating that it had probably been them that caused the thud. It looked like they had been in the attic. I knew it was dusty in there. Not that I was worried about it being a ghost or anything, more like a nosey guest. Or Anita Pendragon. How the cats had gotten in there, I had no idea. Maybe there was a secret passage or something. Come to think of it, one of those old servants’ rooms had a door with a crack in it that led straight to the attic, the cats could probably fit through that.

Millie bent down to pet them, but they had another agenda.

Meow. Nero glanced at me, then trotted over to the narrow servants’ stairs that led to the attic.

Meroop. Marlowe was right behind him, her tail fluffed up as she trotted ahead of Nero, then looked back as if to see if we were following.

Nero kept giving me the eye. I thought back to the previous murders. Each time someone had been murdered the cats had seemed to be suggesting things to me. I could have sworn they’d helped me out of a few scrapes, maybe even saved my life. I was starting to believe that what Millie had said about cats being smarter than humans was true. Maybe I should take their advice under consideration. And right now, it looked as if they wanted me to follow them upstairs.

I was just starting toward the stairs when Myron’s voice bellowed from the foyer. “Josie! I’m here for my notebook.”

Millie’s face scrunched up. “Is that Myron Remington?”

“Yeah, he mentioned he had left his notebook and pen here.” I reluctantly turned away from the stairs, ignoring the protesting meows and exasperated looks from the cats.

“Can’t he get a new notebook?” Mom asked. “Such a cheapskate.”

“Well he does like the finer things. Did you see his notebook has a leather cover and that pen looks very old and expensive.” Millie focused on beating the eggs and I left the two of them in the kitchen and headed to the foyer to meet Myron.

“I see a murder hasn’t scared these people off yet,” Myron said when he saw me coming down the hall. Unfortunately, he said it loud enough for the people in the parlor to hear him.

Victor called out from his spot next to the fireplace where he was sitting in a chair swinging some sort of talisman in the air. “Scare us off? No way. Now more than ever I know that I’ll be able to communicate with Jed and solve the mystery not only of his death and where the treasure is buried, but also who killed Madame Zenda or Betty Sue or whatever her name was.”

“What do you mean?” Gail asked. “I thought Jed killed Madame Zenda.”

Victor waved his hand in the air. “I doubt it, but if he did I suppose he will confess to me.”

Esther had been sitting over by the table with her crystal ball in front of her. The cats must’ve followed me into the hallway because they were now both sitting in her lap. She was petting and cooing to them.

She eyed her crystal ball and softly said, “Don’t think that you’re the only one who can talk to Jed. You might be surprised at who else has psychic abilities.”

Victor jerked his head in her direction. “I’m not worried about you wannabes. I know I’m the only real psychic and so does everyone else.”

He glanced out the window and I followed his gaze and saw a swirl of pink. Anita Pendragon? I’d have thought the murder would have scared her off. Especially if she was the killer. But apparently the chance of getting a story scoop that could be made into a movie was too enticing.

I also noticed the window was open again, even though Flora and I had been making sure we kept them closed. Did Anita have a cohort inside that left it open so that she could overhear our conversations? For all I knew she was taping everything we said.

“So no one is leaving then?” Myron asked.

They all shook their heads.

Myron glanced at me and I smiled. This was good. Now that Myron knew that the guests weren’t scared off, maybe he’d curtail any thoughts about canceling the loan. I didn’t need to mention the cancellation I’d already gotten. That was probably a fluke.

“The only thing that would get us to leave is if the real ghost was here trying to kill off another one of us.” Gail frowned down into her mug, apparently reading something she didn’t like in the tea leaves.

Millie had come down the hall and was standing next to me. Mom was right behind her. “Good thing that so far he doesn’t seem interested in killing anyone.”

Thunk!

Another candlestick fell off the mantle and we all looked at it suspiciously. Even the cats seemed distrustful of the fallen object.

Gail picked it up and put it back. “Weird.”

I could practically see thoughts of hauntings whirling in Myron’s head. Luckily there had been no other signs of a ghost—like eerie moans or lights flickering. At least I had that on my side.

Victor stared at the candlestick. “Say, is anything in here an item that belonged to Jed? I can speak to the departed more easily if I am holding one of their objects, you know. Preferably something he favored.”

I looked around the room. Most of the belongings had come with the sale. I glanced at Millie.

“Not anything in here. These things belonged to my family,” she said.

Victor looked disappointed. Myron was staring at him with a mixture of dread and suspicion.

“So, Myron. You’re probably in a hurry, I know how busy you are. I’ll walk with you to the west wing to get your notebook and pen. You can see how nicely Ed is progressing with the work.” I quickly ushered him down the hall. The less time Myron spent in the guesthouse the better as you never knew when the next weird thing was going to happen.

Myron’s notepad and pen were right where he’d left them in the ballroom. Ed didn’t appear to be keen on seeing Myron again, muttering something about Myron leaving them on purpose so he could have an excuse to come back and see me. I hoped he wasn’t going to start leaving things around just so he could stop by. He’d been here enough in the past week already.

I tried to ignore Ed’s mutterings as I shoved the pen and notepad into Myron’s hand and then rushed him out the front door before anyone could say anything that might make him even more nervous about the financial situation at the guesthouse. I wanted him to leave on a high note thinking things weren’t so bad. If the current guests weren’t considering defecting from the guesthouse and staying at the Smugglers Cove Inn down the road, then it wouldn’t harm future guests and therefore my loan.

When I returned to the kitchen Millie and Mom were getting ready to leave.

“We gotta run, Josie. It’s bingo night tonight. I think you can handle the clean-up.” Mom gestured to the countertop now littered with food scraps, dirty bowls and utensils. “The frittata is in the oven, don’t forget to cover it when you reheat it tomorrow otherwise it will be too dry.”

“Yep, no problem.” I wondered if I could get Flora to do the dishes. Probably not. I’d heard her vacuuming upstairs earlier and I was sure she’d claim to be exhausted.

I set to work cleaning up, periodically checking the dish in the oven. I’d had a little bit of a problem with burning baked goods a few weeks ago and was extra cautious with cooking time as a result.

The clean-up gave me time to think. If these incidents were not due to a ghost—and I was sure they weren’t because there was no such thing as ghosts—then someone had killed Madame Zenda. Would that person stop at one person? Was Madame Zenda killed because the person believed she could talk to Jed and wanted to stop her? Or was there some other reason that the murderer wanted her dead?

Maybe Madame Zenda knew something about one of them that the other person wanted to keep secret. Esther knew her real name, did someone else have a relationship with Madame Zenda that I didn’t know about? I made a mental note to dig around on the Internet and see if I could find such a connection.

I knew one thing, the murder wasn’t random. The note and the buckle proved that the killer had a specific reason to want her dead. Hopefully the killer would have no reason to strike again. Still, I was glad I had a double lock on my owner’s quarters.

I was bent down peering into the oven for the umpteenth time when I heard the back door open. I whirled around, heart pounding. Apparently this murder business had me more nervous than I thought.

“Whoa, Sunshine. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Mike sauntered in, the lazy smile on his handsome face holding a hint of amusement at the way I’d jumped. My heart started beating even faster, but not because I thought he was the killer.

“You startled me.” Nothing like stating the obvious.

His face immediately took on a look of concern. “Are you worried because of the murder? Do you not feel safe here? I could come and stay here if you want—”

I raised my palms in front of me and cut him off. “No. I’m not worried. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me.” I pulled the frittata out of the oven and set it on the counter.

“I wasn’t sneaking up.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute… are you not worried because someone else is staying here?”

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “What do you mean? There’s a lot of people staying here. It’s a guesthouse.”

“Not them. I saw Myron leaving when I came in. He’s been here a lot lately.”

I made a face. Did Mike think I had something going on with Myron? Was he jealous? For some reason that amused me. I waved my hand dismissively as if Myron’s presence was of no consequence. Which it was. “Oh yeah. He left his notepad and pen here and came to pick it up.”

“Ummm… hmmm… I bet he did.” Mike said it with the same hint of sarcasm in his voice that Ed had done when I brought Myron into the ballroom to retrieve his items.

“Did you want something?” I asked as Mike sauntered over to the counter and started picking at one of the leftover lemon muffins. I slapped his wrist. “Those are for guests.”

“Mmmm… this is good. Your cooking has really improved.”

I took a minute to bask in his compliment. “Thanks.”

“I have some new information on the case.”

I composed my face into a blank look and stared at him. I didn’t fool him though because he said, “Forget playing dumb, Sunshine. I know that you, your mom and Aunt Millie are investigating.”

I simply raised my brows. Mike had been an investigator in the navy and had gotten all bossy and protective when we’d tried to investigate the last two murders. Maybe he was getting used to the idea that when someone was killed on my property I looked into it. Good. Any help we could get would be welcome and Mike knew how to investigate, plus his office was in the town hall and he could have access to insider information.

“So, what did you find out?” I asked after trying to wait him out.

“Turns out that buckle really was old,” Mike said.

I frowned. “You mean like as old as Jed?” I glanced over at the stairs to the attic, remembering how the cats had been trying to lure me up there.

“Yep. Of course, it’s probably not his, they have old buckles in antique stores and you can buy them on the Internet from eBay.”

Of course! Why hadn’t I thought of that? But if the killer got the buckle from eBay, then they would have had to purchase it way before the murder, as they would have had to have it shipped. Which meant that the murder might not have been because Madame Zenda said she was going to talk to Jed. It would have been planned before that.

Esther bubbled up to the top of my mental suspect list, but I cautioned myself not to jump the gun. Just because Esther had a prior connection to Madame Zenda didn’t mean that she had a reason to kill her. Nor did it mean that the others didn’t have prior connections. Hadn’t Victor mentioned something about how her readings were never accurate? That seemed to indicate he was familiar with her work. And what about Gail? She’d been very quiet about her past and when I’d asked her once, she’d brushed me off. Besides, if Esther had murdered Madame Zenda because of some prior connection, wouldn’t she have tried to hide the fact that she knew her?

“So the murder could have been planned for some time. If someone had researched Jed and his treasure and planned it out, maybe they had time to find a similar buckle.”

Something outside the window caught my eye. Nero and Marlowe were slinking along the side of one of the old barns. Stalking mice? Or something else? Up ahead of them, I saw a flutter of purple fabric. Anita Pendragon? No. It was Esther Hill. She was dodging from shrubbery to shrubbery. What was she up to?

“Josie?” Mike’s question tugged my attention from the window.

“Huh?”

“I just said I think you should try to be careful here.”

“Of course. I’m always careful.”

Mike popped the last of the muffin into his mouth and brushed his hands together. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll go see Ed.”

“Ed?”

“Yeah, I came to inspect the ballroom. He’s ready to start the electrics and I need to make sure the framing is right.” His left brow quirked up. “Why did you think I was here?”

“Oh, I knew that was why, of course.” With all the excitement, I’d forgotten about the planned inspection. I didn’t want to explore the fact that I hadn’t thought it odd that Mike had come, that it almost felt normal for him to just walk into the kitchen. With his connection to Millie and the guesthouse, it was natural he’d feel right at home.

He left and I returned my attention to the window. I couldn’t see Esther or the cats anymore, but I couldn’t help but wonder just what the three of them were up to out there.