7ac5210d24aef17d34b70f663fc85852

‘Because of the review, of course.’ Millie glanced at me.

‘I found a review that Charles had written on the lemon meringue pie at the Mariner last year and it wasn’t very good,’ I explained.

The furrow between Seth’s brows deepened. ‘Last year? Why would Tony kill him now?’

‘Maybe he just found out that Charles was in town?’ Mom suggested.

‘Seems highly unlikely. Why would he carry a grudge all this time? Not to mention that he’d have to come all the way over to the Oyster Cove Guesthouse, sneak inside and then kill Charles.’ Seth shook his head, his eyes cutting over to me. ‘Nope, it seems more likely that the person he was writing that review about found it in his room. They probably ripped it up before they killed him. And it seems more feasible that someone here would be the killer.’

That made me a little mad. Up until now I was cutting Seth some slack. I mean, he was a friend of Mom and Millie’s and he seemed like a nice old guy, but now he was getting me a little angry with his not so subtle looks in my direction. ‘We don’t even know if he was writing a review. All you found is a scrap of paper with some words on it. And by the way, don’t you know me well enough to know I’m not a killer?’

Seth’s face reddened and he looked down at the ground. ‘Well Josie, I knew you when you were a kid. But you been away all these years.’

‘I’m still the same person.’

‘She has a point about the review. Let’s see what it said again.’ Millie said.

‘It’s pretty obvious, look.’ Seth pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled to a picture of the paper he’d had in that bag.

He held it up and we all craned our necks and squinted to read it. It was just the very edge of a handwritten note with just the endings of a few words.

….ull

…. ick

…. son

‘Those endings could go with lots of words,’ Millie said. ‘I want a copy of that. Can you text it to me?’

‘Me too,’ I said.

Seth looked uncertain.

‘There’s an apple pie in it for you if you text it to me.’ Millie turned to me. ‘I’ll text it to you after.’

Seth sighed.‘I suppose it won’t do any harm.’

‘Good,’ Millie said. ‘Now, until we figure out what that note really says, we have a lot of clues that point to Tony Murano. How many clues do you have that point to Josie?’

Seth opened his mouth but I cut in.‘Never mind, don’t answer that. This is what we have on Tony. His shoe print was under the window, Tony has a bad temper and Charles wrote a bad review about his lemon meringue pie.’

Mom nodded.‘Why would Tony’s print be outside the window if he wasn’t climbing out and why would he be climbing out if he didn’t kill Charles?’

‘Maybe the print wasn’t from Tony,’ Seth said. ‘I don’t think you can tell for sure that print was from his shoe. And besides, it’s risky to go out of the window. And how did he get in and mess with the stairs without anyone noticing? It makes more sense that it was an inside job.’

‘No one inside the guesthouse has a motive…. Well, except maybe Tina.’ Mom turned to me. ‘Didn’t Ava say she saw Tina sneaking out of Charles’s room?’

I glanced at Seth. He didn’t look surprised. Could he have known about Tina and Charles’ affair already? Maybe I wasn’t giving him enough credit. ‘She did. And Stella Dumont saw her down at the sleazy motel.’

‘Maybe Tina and Tony were in on it together,’ Mom said.

Millie bit her bottom lip.‘You know now that you mention it, didn’t we notice that Tina works for the culinary section of the paper? Is it possible she and Tony know each other?’

Mom slapped her forehead.‘Of course! That’s it. This wasn’t about a bad review at all Seth was right about that. It was about a love triangle.’

‘Love triangle?’ Seth looked more confused than ever.

‘Yes!’ Mom said. ‘What if Tina was having an affair with both Charles and Tony? Tony found out, and came here and murdered Charles out of jealousy!’

‘That would explain why Tina was checking into that other motel. Maybe Stella really did see her. She didn’t want Charles to know she was having an affair with Tony,’ I said.

‘That makes perfect sense,’ Millie said. ‘And Tony would have to go to a hotel because his wife seems very jealous. Did you see the way she acted in the kitchen?’

I nodded vigorously.‘And she also seemed suspicious of him. Like she suspected he was having an affair.’

‘That’s it then.’ Millie turned to Seth. ‘Are you going to make an arrest?’

‘That’s not really solid evidence,’ he said. ‘We like to have a few clues other than people’s say-so. Especially with your say-so is tainted.’

‘Tainted? How?’ Millie was indignant.

‘You guys are trying to get Josie off the suspect list,’ Seth said.

‘We are not!’ Mom said. ‘Well I mean, we are, but that’s cause Josie isn’t guilty.’

‘Seth Chamberlain you know these clues are good clues. This is a good working theory. Are you going to check it out or do you want me to never cook you a batch of snickerdoodles again?’ Millie asked.

Seth lips quirked in a smile and his eyes twinkled.‘Fine. I’ll check them out. I suppose I could find out where they were the night of Charles’s death and see how well this Tina person knew him. But don’t expect anything to come of it.’

Thirteen

Flora hadn’t washed the dishes I left in the sink, so after Mom and Millie left, I got to work on those. Nero and Marlowe accompanied me to the kitchen and stood meowing at their food bowls. Nero looked like he was getting a little fat, but I still fed them some kibble.

I thought about the clues as I worked. The sound of Mike’s hammering three floors up was comforting. Even the cats’ meows and little crunches as they ate the kibble made me feel at home.

I should probably move their dishes out of the kitchen just in case Barbara Littlefield made an appearance. Actually, one good thing about having a murder at the guesthouse was that it seemed to be keeping her away. She wasn’t due to come and inspect anything until Mike was done with that room next week. I could move the cat bowls before then.

From my spot at the kitchen sink I could see the Smugglers Bay Inn below the dark storm clouds that had rolled in. This time there were no seagulls around. That must make Stella happy. Thinking of her made me realize I had really been hoping that she was the killer. Though Tony Murano did seem more like the type. I still had to wonder why Stella had been lurking around the guesthouse? Was she really here to see Mike?

If Tony really was the killer, was he really in cahoots with Tina? The thought of having an accomplice to murder right under my own roof turned my blood cold.

I contemplated asking Tina some leading questions that might trip her up so that she inadvertently confessed, but maybe that wasn’t very smart considering she might be a killer. The advancing storm would be a great backdrop for her to murder me. The sound of thunder could mask the bludgeoning. Maybe I’d better not. Besides, though her little red convertible was parked in the lot, I hadn’t seen her all afternoon so she must be ensconced in her room.

Just before I finished the dishes, Ava Grantham popped her head into the kitchen.

‘Oh, hi Josie, I was wondering if I could get some tea. This damp weather is getting into my old bones.’ She wrung her hands together.

‘Of course, why don’t you sit in the front parlor and I’ll bring some out.’

She nodded gratefully and headed off toward the front parlor while I boiled water, got out of selection of teabags and threw some pumpkin muffins into a basket with the butter.

Ava sat in the overstuffed chair looking out the window at the storm. She looked up when I entered.‘I hope the storm passes over quickly.’

It was almost dark and the churning sea had a rough, ominous feel. Great ambience for a murder, I thought, but refrained from saying so. The last thing I needed was another one of those.

‘Hopefully it won’t be too bad.’ I put the tea and basket down in front of her.

‘Oh, you brought muffins! How lovely.’

The thought struck me that Ava had seemed to know an awful lot about what had gone on between Tina and Charles. Since I couldn’t really ask Tina, maybe Ava would have some insight. I picked out a muffin and buttered it while Ava sipped her tea.

‘Has there been any news on the murder case?’ Ava asked the question casually. Perhaps a little bit too casually? I looked up to see a glimmer of interest in her eye.

‘The police are still looking into it, but I may have found a little clue.’ I wasn’t going to tell Ava what I’d discovered, but I wanted to feel her out and see how willing she would be to talk.

‘Oh really?’ Ava watched me over the rose dotted rim of her china teacup.

‘Well, I don’t know much, but I heard it might have something to do with a jealous lover. And you said you saw Tina…’ I let my voice trail off.

‘Oh yes I did.’ Ava nodded. ‘Tina and Charles.’

‘And Charles was the type to fool around you say?’

‘Certainly. I’d seen it happen many, many times. But who would be jealous?’ she paused and then her eyes widened. ‘Oh? You think Charles had another lover and Tina killed him because she was jealous?’

Actually I hadn’t thought of it that way. But what if Ava was right? What if I had it backwards and the jealous lover wasn’t someone who was mad that Charles was fooling around with their woman, but rather someone who was angry that Charles was fooling around on them?

‘Or Tina had a lover that killed Charles. I guess either way, jealousy is a strong motivator,’ I said.

Ava nodded her head enthusiastically.‘Yes, that is a very good theory. Are the police going to make an arrest?’

‘That I don’t know,’ I said.

Ava nibbled on a muffin and made a face.‘Now that would be one for the columns. A love triangle murder.’

I frowned. Hopefully Ava wasn’t considering publishing a story about Charles’s murder.

‘Such a sad thing that people want to hear about murders and affairs now instead of balls and coming-out parties like in my day,’ Ava said.

‘People certainly have become ghoulish,’ I agreed.

Ava brushed the crumbs off her fingers and stood.‘Well, I guess things never stay the same. I’m just glad the police are onto somebody. I hate to think of the killer just wandering around in here. Now that the tea has warmed me up, I think I’ll get my old bones under the comforters. Always get so tired once the sun goes down.’ She glancedout the window and then headed toward the front stairs.

She must’ve passed Flora because I heard her asking the maid to bring her an extra blanket. To my surprise Flora agreed and said she would be there in a few minutes. With the lack of work Flora did, I figured she would’ve told Ava she was clocking out, but she hadn’t. Maybe Flora wasn’t a total loss after all.

Flora came into the parlor and flopped down in the chair Ava had just vacated.‘Dang guests, got me running all around.’ She glanced at the basket. ‘Oh muffins, don’t mind if I do.’

She plucked a muffin out and popped half of it into her mouth.‘I’m exhausted. Changing all those beds is hard work and I also did some dusting and now I’ve got to get that blanket. You know the dusting is hard enough, even without all that cat hair.’ Her words were barely intelligible because she was mumbling around her food.

Suddenly I realized that if Flora changed the beds, she would know if Tina had been home the night Charles was killed.

‘It must be very difficult,’ I agreed, pushing the muffin basket closer since she’d already finished the one she’d started. ‘You must be glad you don’t have to change them all every day.’

She swallowed hard and frowned at me.‘What are you getting at? Are you saying I don’t do my job every day?’

‘No not all. Just that if the beds haven’t been slept in…’

‘Yeah, that’s right. Why would I have to change the bed if it hadn’t been slept in? Did that little tart Tina complain? I don’t see any reason to change her bed if wasn’t slept in. Well I’ll tell you, she’s a fine one sneaking off to another hotel.’ She leaned back in her chair.

‘So Tina wasn’t here one night?’

‘No. And I’ll have you know. There’s no sense in changing the bedclothes if someone isn’t here. First of all, its work that doesn’t need to be done and second, it saves on electricity, hot water and laundry detergent. I mean, its bad enough I have to clean up straw and feathers and muck.’

‘Straw?’

‘Yes, those old people with the cameras. When I went in to clean up their room it was dirty with straw and twigs and feathers. Pigs!’

Nero and Marlowe had come into the room and jumped up on my lap. I absently petted them as I thought about Flora’s words. Straw, twigs and feathers sounded like nesting material. I knew they were birdwatchers but I had no idea they’d gotten close enough to the nests to have nesting material on them.

Thunder boomed in the distance and Flora jumped up.

‘Looks like the storm’s brewing and I aim to get home before the big rain starts.’ She pointed at her owlish eyes. ‘Can’t see very good with these old peepers anymore. I’ll just get that blanket to the old lady and be on my way.’

‘Okay, don’t worry about me, I’ll clean up in here.’ As if she would worry. The first rain drops splattered on the window, but I wasn’t paying attention to the weather. I was busy wondering what the Weatherbys had been up to and whether or not Seth Chamberlain had confronted Tony Murano.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Nero practically jumped out of his fur as thunder boomed in the distance. He snuggled further into Josie’s lap, enjoying the soft stroking of her fingers more than he cared to admit.

Marlowe kneaded Josie’s thigh. ‘I don’t like where this is going. Josie might be getting herself into a heap of trouble. She was asking Ava a lot of questions about Tina and Charles. She might be getting ready to interrogate a suspect.’

‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t confront the wrong person.’ Nero glanced at the basket of muffins. He wasn’t much of a muffin eater, but the butter on the other hand was quite delectable and enticing.

‘You think she’ll notice if we lick the butter?’ Marlowe echoed his thoughts.

‘Most likely.’ Nero glanced longingly at the bright yellow stick in the crystal dish. ‘I think we need to focus our attentions on making sure Josie doesn’t do anything rash.’

‘Yeah. Especially if the killer is around on a night like this.’ Marlowe shivered and glanced out the window.

‘Maybe we should sleep in the bed with her tonight?’ Nero tried to keep from quaking as another thunderclap boomed. ‘I mean for her comfort, of course, not for ours.’

‘We can try.’

‘Though of course you know what we must do,’ Nero said.

‘Of course. Try to sleep on her head and then only after she has shoved us away twenty-five times we can curl up beside her, but we must take up a sizable amount of space on the bed.’ Marlowe repeated what Nero had instructed her of early on.

Nero nodded.‘You have learned much.’

Josie set Nero aside and he hissed at her to indicate that she should only do that when he wanted her to. She looked down at him.‘When we were just getting along, now you hiss at me?’

Nero purred and put his head down and she patted him.

‘Now that’s better. I suppose I better figure out what to make for breakfast.’

Nero and Marlowe followed Josie into the kitchen and watched as she fussed around with the recipes.

‘We must stick to her like glue, she’s headstrong and may say the wrong thing to the wrong person,’ Nero said.

‘Agreed,’ Marlowe said.

Nero glanced out at the dark night, a grim feeling of foreboding coming over him.‘And tonight especially, we must be alert. My seventh sense is telling me the killer may return to the scene of the crime, and if he does, we will have to be here to protect our human.’

Fourteen

I listened to the rain splatter against the windows and prayed the power wouldn’t go out while I pawed through the recipe file in search of something to make for breakfast the next morning. The sour cream coffee cake would be nice, a great comforting treat after a big stormy night. Where was the recipe?

Maybe it had gotten wedged somewhere when I dropped the file the other day. The cabinet door under the sink didn’t close right. Maybe it had fluttered inside and was laying amongst the bottles of Windex and stacks of sponges?

I got down on all fours and stuck my head inside the cabinet. Marlowe and Nero trotted up beside me. In fact, they’d been sticking to me like glue all night. Probably afraid of the storm.

Kaboom!

The cats jumped and so did I, hitting my head on the inside of the cabinet. Ouch. At least the sound of the thunder had been muted with my head inside that thing.

I pulled my head out. I couldn’t hear a darn thing with it inside the cabinet, but I was expecting to hear a flurry of footsteps above as my guests leapt out of bed. But no. They all must have Ambien prescriptions because they were apparently fast asleep, tucked into their quilt-covered beds.

I stood, rubbing the back of my head and Nero jumped on the counter.

Meow.

‘Hey, I just washed that. Get down.’ I waved my hands at the cat who simply turned his back on me to look out the window. Good thing Barbara Littlefield wouldn’t be making a surprise visit tonight in the storm.

I followed his gaze out the window just in time to see a bolt of lightning illuminate the turbulent surf in the cove near the Smugglers Bay Inn. No seagulls were flying around in this storm.

Meroow!

Marlowe paced over by the door to the hallway. The sound of his meow reminded me of the tone of his wailing when we found Charles’ body. Hopefully it wasn’t a tone reserved only for body finding.

Nero leaped down from the counter and trotted toward the door, looking over his shoulder at me.

Kaboom!

The thunder sure was loud.

Creak.

Wait, what was that? One of the guests? I tilted my head to the side and cocked my ear toward the ceiling. No, the creaking hadn’t come from upstairs, it had come from the direction of the foyer. Both cats were now sitting in the doorway that led to the hallway and looking at me expectantly. Were they trying to alert me to an intruder?

I grabbed the first weapon I could find. A rolling pin. Not the new glass kind. The heavy old-fashioned wooden kind.

My heart pounded against my rib cage as I crept out into the darkened hallway.

Creak.

Whoever it was, was near the stairs! Was that the killer coming back to the scene of the crime? And if so, why?

I probably should’ve called the cops, but I didn’t want to alert the intruder to the fact that I knew he was there. Because now I had the element of surprise and I didn’t want to lose it. If I took my phone out and called, they might hear me and run off. I needed to catch him in the act and then hopefully detain him long enough for the police to come.

I moved slowly along the hallway, my rolling pin raised above my head.

A big hulking shadow loomed by the stairs. He looked like he was about to head down the hallway that led to the West wing. Just as I suspected, the killer was returning, probably to make sure he hadn’t left some sort of clue.

I was almost upon him when lightning lit the hallway, exposing the intruder. My heart crashed along with the accompanying sound of thunder.

It was Tony Murano and he was holding something shiny in his hand.

I must have made a noise because Tony spun around.

I flicked on the lights and raised the rolling pin over my head.‘You! Put that down. I knew you were the killer!’

Tony shoved his hand behind his back, scrunched up his face and shaded his eyes against the light with his free hand.‘Huh? Listen lady, you’ve caused enough trouble for me.’

He took a step toward me. I couldn’t see what was in his left hand. Was it the cleaver I’d seen him wielding the in restaurant? He seemed to enjoy hacking things with it. But I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. ‘That’s far enough Tony. I’ve already called the police and they’ll be here any minute.’

‘Good, because you should be arrested.’

‘Me? You’re the killer!’

‘No. You are. Themarriagekiller. What do you mean coming over to my restaurant and getting my wife all upset. You should mind your own business.’

Huh? This wasn’t going the way I thought it would. Why was he talking about his wife? Perhaps he was trying to distract me.

‘I’m not falling for that! You broke in here! I bet you think we’re getting too close to the truth and want to make sure you didn’t leave more than just a footprint at the scene of the crime.’

‘I didn’t break in.’ Tony gestured toward the door. ‘I was knocking on the door but nobody answered. It was unlocked so I just came in. It was dark in here and I was standing, getting my bearings, when you came out and tried to attack me.’

I looked at the door. Had I left it unlocked? I couldn’t remember, but surely I would’ve heard him knocking? Then again, I’d had my head inside the cabinet and barely heard the thunder.

Nero and Marlowe were pacing around Tony with their tails high in the air. Now, what exactly did that mean? I was sure they were trying to tell me something, but was it that Tony was the killer or that he was not the killer? Either way, I wasn’t safe with him in here. I dug in my pocket for my cell phone and quickly realized I’d left it in the kitchen. Now what? Maybe one of the guests would come down and help distract him, and I could clonk him over the head with the rolling pin.

My arm was getting really tired, but I raised the rolling pin higher.‘You can’t talk your way out of this. I know that you snuck over the other night and killed Charles. Maybe you broke in the same way you did tonight. And you went out the window afterwards.’

‘Charles? Who is Charles and why would I kill him?’

‘Charles Prescott. The Laughing Gourmet. He wrote a bad review on your restaurant last year and when you found out he was staying here, you took your revenge.’

‘Bad review? You mean that review on my lemon meringue pie?’ Tony laughed, the sinister sound echoing along the hallway. ‘Why would I kill him over that? That review was good for business.’

‘You expect me to believe a bad review is good for business?’

‘Sure, that review is just sour grapes and it hasn’t hurt me none. In fact, it’s brought more people to my restaurant asking for the sour lemon meringue pie. Turns out there’s a whole bunch of people who like their pie sour.’ Tony said. ‘So you see I wouldn’t want to kill him. I want to thank him.’

I gnawed my bottom lip. It seemed like Tony might be telling the truth about that. Maybe my mom had been right about the love triangle.‘All right, maybe that review was not the reason why you killed him. Maybe you killed Charles Prescott because of the love triangle!’

The stairs creaked and we looked up to see Tina standing there, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open as she stared at Tony.‘You killed Charles?’

Tony’s brow furrowed. ‘What? No. I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t mad about that review.’

‘Not the review,’ I said. ‘You were jealous because you had to share Tina with him!’

Tina gasped. Tony’s gaze jerked to Tina’s face. He looked like he was ready to cry. ‘You were having an affair with this Charles guy?’

Tina’s eyes were about as big as Floras. ‘No. I swear!’ She rushed down the stairs to Tony’s side. ‘You’re the only one I’m having an affair with.’

Tony looked dubious. He turned to me.‘What do you know about this affair?’

I crossed my arms over my chest, mostly because my right arm was aching from holding up the rolling pin.‘One of our other guests saw Tina sneaking out of Charles’s room.’

Tony looked at Tina, crestfallen.‘Is that true? You were cheating on me?’

Tina glared at me.‘No, it is not true. Well it’s partly true. Iwas in Charles’s room.’

‘Aha!’ I said.

Meow. The cats obviously agreed.

‘But not because I was having an affair with him,’ Tina added.

Tony still looked dubious.‘Why were you in there then?’

Now that his attention was on Tina, I thought it might be a good time to do something to detain him for the police. I needed to know what he had for a weapon first. I tried to peek behind his back, but all I saw was what looked like a plastic bag. Had he brought the cleaver in a bag? I supposed it would raise suspicion if he walked around holding it in his hand.

Tina sighed and looked down at the floor. She shuffled her feet, then she said,‘I was in his room looking for his recipe book.’

‘Aha!’ I said again. My vocabulary had apparently diminished during the conversation.

‘A recipe book?’ Tony looked like he wanted to believe her but wasn’t sure.

‘Charles was supposed to be writing a book with unique recipes. It was going to be a hit. And… well… my food column isn’t going very well and I just thought if I got a peek at the recipes maybe I could re-create some and write a book too.’ She whipped out a tissue and sniffled, tears welling up in her big blue eyes. I could tell by the look on Tony’s face that the tears had softened him.

‘Wait a minute, so you’re the one who took his cookbook?’ I asked.

Tina nodded, dabbing her eyes with the tissue.‘It’s in my room. But I swear he wasn’t there. I had seen him that night up on the cliffs and I knew it would be a long time before he could make it back, so I figured that was my chance to get in his room and look for it.’

‘Let me get this straight. You weren’t mad about the lemon meringue pie review, the two of you are having an affair, but Tina wasn’t also having an affair with Charles?’

They both glanced at each other and nodded. That explained why Tony’s wife was acting like he was a cheater. He was. But was he a killer too? If Tina wasn’t having an affair with Charles, then there would be no motive for Tony to kill him. The affair could also explain why Stella had seen Tina out at the Timber Me Motel.

‘Did you guys meet at the Timber Me Motel?’

Tony’s eyes widened. ‘Yeah, how do you know about that?’

‘I have my sources.’ I turned to Tina. ‘But you weren’t having an affair with Charles?’

She shook her head.

‘And you were seen coming out of his room because you stole the cookbook?’

She nodded vigorously.‘Yeah and I can prove it too. It’s in my room upstairs. I’ll get it.’

Before either of us could answer, she ran up the stairs.

I turned to Tony. There were still unanswered questions, not the least of which was why he’d snuck in here carrying a weapon in a bag. ‘Well then, if you and Tina had your affair at the Timber Me Motel, why did you sneak out the window in the West wing?’

His eyes widened.‘How did you know I did that? Do you have cameras in this place? Do you have cameras in the rooms? You watching what’s going on?’

‘No. We saw a footprint in the bark mulch outside the very room Charles Prescott was killed in.’ I glanced down at his feet. ‘It was a chef’s clog and the sides had extensive wear on them, as if the owner walked on the sides of his feet.’

Tony backed up. I was a little nervous because he was still holding his left hand behind his back. What did he have back there?‘I didn’t kill Charles. But I did sneak out that window. I came here one night to meet Tina when she first arrived in town. But then that busybody old lady saw us. I panicked and wanted to get out without being seen. I was afraid word would get back to my wife. Tina knew that section of the guesthouse was closed off so we went down there and I went out the window.’

‘What night was that?’

‘It must’ve been two nights before the guy was offed? Because after getting caught out in the hall here, we decided to lay low the next day and meet at the sleazy motel on Tuesday and that’s where we were the night that guy died.’

I cringed at his coarse language, but that wasn’t the worst thing about what he’d said. If he really was at the sleazy motel the night Charles was killed, then he might have an alibi. And if he did, then who was the killer?

Tina had also been in the breakfast room that morning, so how could he have been at the Timber Me Motel? Then again, I didn’t know if she’d come into the dining room from her room or from outside. It was possible she’d just gotten in from her midnight interlude or had snuck back in the wee hours of the morning. If they were trying to fly under the radar, that would make sense.

Tony must’ve seen the look of doubt on my face because he continued, ‘You can ask that sheriff guy. In fact, he came to visit me after you got poking your nose into my business. That’s how I know when this Charles guy was killed. That sheriff started spouting off some stuff about me being a suspect and I told him just what I told you. He went down to the sleazy motel to verify my alibi. And that’s why I came here tonight. I knew I had to explain myself and beg you not to tell my wife.’

Before I could answer, Tina came back down the stairs with the cookbook. It was a blue three-ring binder just like Ava had described.

‘See? This is what I got from Charles’ room.’ She looked down at the floor again. ‘I know it was wrong to steal it. And after he died, I tried to put it back, but the police were in there and then you were in there and well I figured since he was dead maybe I could use the recipes…’

I opened the book. It was filled with handwritten recipes. I turned to Tony.‘If all this is true and you only came here to talk to me then why did you bring the cleaver?’

‘Cleaver?’ Tony looked down at his hand. ‘Oh this?’ He whipped his hand out from behind his back, the white plastic bag dangling menacingly. ‘This isn’t a cleaver.’

I stepped back as he reached into the bag.

‘It’s a ricotta pie. I brought it as a peace offering. I was hoping that if I got in your good graces you and those crazy old ladies would stop coming to the restaurant and wouldn’t tell my wife about the affair with Tina.’

And just like that, my prime suspect evaporated. If what Tony said was true, I could easily verify his alibi with Seth. And why would he lie about it?

I accepted the ricotta pie, grimaced as Tina and Tony gave each other a sickening smooch goodbye and then proceeded to the kitchen. At least I had the ricotta pie to offer my guests for breakfast. I didn’t have time to sort through recipes and put something together for the morning. I needed to come up with a new suspect.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I put the ricotta pie away and went to my suite to settle in with the cats. Okay, I admit I did take a teeny sliver of pie with me, but only because I had to test it out to see if it was good enough for the guests. Tina had gone back to bed and by some miracle the rest of the guesthouse had not been awakened by the argument down in the foyer, so it was nice and quiet.

The owner’s suite wasn’t big, but it was comfortable and cozy. It consisted of a small fireplace, living room that had a window overlooking the ocean, complete with blue cushioned window seat, a bedroom that was part of the rounded turret, and a small bath. It was done in neutral shades of gray and mocha.

The trendy colors blended nicely with the antique touches like the carved mantel and hardwood flooring to give it an eclectic feeling. The living room had a microsuede sectional and I settled in, pulling a fleece blanket over me. The cats immediately jumped on the blanket and curled up beside me. The low hum of their purrs was comforting. Maybe I could get used to having cat companions.

I sipped my chamomile tea and dug into the ricotta pie. It was creamy and sweet. If I hadn’t been married to a chef, I would have been grossed out by the idea of ricotta pie. I mean wasn’t that something you put in a lasagna? But I’d had it before and Tony’s was much better than Clive’s.

As I savored the pie, I flipped through the recipe book. Charles was making a book of recipes that included berries. He even had a section of information about each berry. There were berry tarts, berry pies, berry dressings, even berry bread. There were even flockenberries in there. Maybe that was why he’d been on the cliff, to research the flockenberries.

I closed the book and sighed.‘Well I guess these berries probably didn’t have anything to do with Charles’s death.’

Meow.

Nero hopped down from the sofa and trotted over to the old mahogany writing desk Millie had left for me, casting a glance back at Marlowe who soon joined him.

‘Yeah, I know. Dead-end right?’ I said. ‘Who would kill someone over berries?’

Nero jumped up on the desk and batted at a pen.

‘Unfortunately now, I’m back to square one.’

Merope. The pen clattered onto the wood floor.

‘Hey, cut that out.’

Nero stared at me with his golden eyes as he pushed another pen off.

‘You’re doing that on purpose!’

Mew. Purr.

He pushed another pen.

‘Okay, now I’m getting angry.’ I disentangled myself from my fuzzy cocoon, picked up the pens and put them back on the desk. Marlowe was sitting in the window seat and I patted the top of his head.

‘At least you’re a good girl, not tossing things off the desk.’ I gave Nero a pointed look.

Nero narrowed his gaze.Mew.

I kept petting Marlowe who was gazing out the window toward the Smugglers Bay Inn. It had stopped raining and the silver light of the moon highlighted the edges of the clouds and bounced of the rolling surf. Marlowe was probably thinking about getting out and catching some midnight mice.

‘Not tonight, my friend.’

Merow.

The tone of her voice indicated he wasn’t very happy with that, but I was the boss.

Mreep!

Nero swatted a small pad of note paper off the desk. Was he jealous that I was paying so much attention to Marlowe?

Meow!

Marlowe leapt off the window seat and lunged for the paper, tearing it with her claws.

Meroo!

Nero jumped down and swatted at it, shredding a few pieces off.

Marlowe pounced, Nero swatted, pieces of paper flew.

‘Hey, hey!’ I intercepted the pad as it slid across the floor and picked it up.

Both cats screeched to a stop and looked up, innocent expressions plastered on their furry faces.

I looked down at the paper which was practically shredded into confetti.‘Boy, you guys have sharp claws.’

It was only a cheap notepad, but I’d written a partial grocery list and now you could only see the last few letters of the words. Now what was the food that ended in ‘ery’ that I’d wanted? Celery? What other words ended in that? This was like the partial note that had been found in Charles’s room that the police had assumed was the review he’d been killed for.

I’d assumed Charles had been killed because of a review too and that turned out to be wrong. If my assumptions about the motive behind Charles’s death were wrong, then maybe that partial piece of paper wasn’t a review after all.

I rushed to my phone to look at the picture of the note that Millie had texted to me.

…ull

… ick

… son

What if‘ull’ was for gull. The gulls were sick. Was it possible the letter had something to do with the reason for that? That last word ended in ‘son.’ Poison?Gull, sick, poison. Charles had been seen on the cliffs. What if he’d stumbled upon some evidence pertaining to what was happening to the gulls? And what if he knew who was behind it? Ava had mentioned that Charles wasn’t a nice man. He wasn’t beyond throwing someone under the bus or lying or cheating. And he needed money.

What if the note was a blackmail note? Someone being blackmailed would have a much deeper motivation to kill Charles than someone he was writing a bad review about.

But if this was a blackmail note and if the note really was the reason Charles was murdered, then who was he blackmailing and what did he have on them?

Fifteen

The next morning, I arranged the slices of ricotta pie on a fancy plate so that no one would realize I’d taken a slice out the night before. With only four people at the guesthouse, there was plenty of pie. I just wanted it to look nice on the buffet. But one can’t have only pie for breakfast, so I also got out some eggs and bacon. I was cracking the eggs when Mom and Millie burst through the kitchen door.

‘Josie! Bad news! Seth Chamberlain informed me that Tony Murano can’t be the killer. He has an alibi.’ Millie pushed me aside and took over egg duty. Fine by me, I didn’t really want to scramble them anyway and besides, I was bursting to tell them about my visit from Tony and my new suspicions about why Charles was killed.

As if summoned by Millie’s voice, Nero and Marlowe trotted into the kitchen and sat at her feet, gazing up at her.

‘I know. And there’s more.’ I moved to the bacon, which was crackling and sizzling. The cats swerved their gaze in my direction. I removed the fully cooked pieces and put them on a paper towel to drain, then added a few more slabs to the pan.

Millie turned to look at me.‘Do tell.’

I told them about my visit from Tony and how Tina hadn’t been having an affair with Charles, but had been in his room to take the cookbook.

‘Hmmm, well, that is a bummer,’ Millie opened the spice drawer and started fishing around. ‘Where’s the vanilla? It’s a secret ingredient for the eggs.’

‘Should be in there.’ I peered in and spied it way in the back. ‘There it is.’

‘So now what?’ Mom had helped herself to a piece of ricotta pie and was sitting at the table. ‘Seems like we have to start from square one with the suspects.’

‘Not necessarily,’ I said. ‘I think we might have been barking up the wrong tree with the review angle anyway.’

Millie poured eggs into the pan and started mixing them around while I told them about my suspicions that the note was really a blackmail note having to do with the gulls.

‘You don’t say?’ Mom glanced toward the cove. ‘Do you think someone is harming the gulls on purpose?’

‘Maybe. Charles was seen on the cliff and that’s where they nest. He might have discovered someone doing something to their nests.’ I lowered my voice. ‘I already have some suspects.’

‘Who?’ Millie rummaged for serving dishes and then started spooning the eggs into a silver bowl with a lid.

‘Well, now let’s think of this logically,’ Mom said, her forkful of ricotta pie hovering near her lips. ‘The partial note was found in Charles’s room, which seems to indicate the killer was in his room. So who visited Charles?’

I thought about that for a second as I layered the crispy bacon onto a white ironstone platter.‘I don’t think anyone came to visit him. At least no one that I saw.’

‘Ava Grantham said she saw Tina in his room,’ Millie pointed out.

‘But Tina was there because she was stealing the cookbook. Charles wasn’t even at the guesthouse then, because she’d seen him on the cliff.’ I picked a piece of bacon out of the pile and crunched.

‘He could have gotten the letter earlier, maybe he confronted the person and they tore it up and Charles took part of it back with him.’

‘But the killer had to have been in the guesthouse at some point, either the night they killed Charles or when they sabotaged the room. And no one saw anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here,’ Millie said. ‘With Josie, Flora and Mike around I would think someone would have seen something.’

‘Charles was killed in the middle of the night, everyone was asleep.’ Mom snagged a piece of bacon and broke off two tiny morsels, then tossed one to Marlowe and one to Nero.

‘Not too much of that, Rose,’ Millie admonished. ‘That’s not good for them. I hope you aren’t going to get in the habit of feeding junk to the cats like your mother does, Josie.’

‘Huh?’ I hadn’t been paying attention because my brain was still processing the fact that no one had seen anyone in the guesthouse who wasn’t supposed to be there. ‘What if none of us saw an intruder in the guesthouse because the killer was one of the guests?’

‘Who?’

I glanced around to make sure none of the guests were hovering in the hallway. Especially not the guests that were now on my suspect list. The hall was empty.

‘The Weatherbys,’ I whispered. ‘They are very interested in the gulls and Flora found straw and feathers in their room. Tina said she saw them up on the cliffs near the nests!’

‘Well of course she did.’ Millie looked at me as if I was batty. ‘They are bird watchers. I mean surely you’ve seen them with all their cameras and binoculars.’

‘Oh, I’ve seen them all right. But the other day, Mike asked Ron some questions about his camera and Mike said that the answers seemed to indicate that Ron didn’t know much about the camera. Now wouldn’t he be somewhat of an expert if he was a bird watcher?’ I asked.

Mom pressed her lips together.‘Maybe. But you know us older folks aren’t that good with technology. I had to ask your brother to help me with my new smartphone.’

Millie nodded.‘She’s right. And they hardly seem like the type to bludgeon someone and try to make it look like he fell down the stairs.’

‘Right, someone would have to have carpentry skills for that,’ Mom added.

‘Either that or maybe they thought an elderly small-town sheriff wouldn’t be able to figure out the scene was tampered with. I remember Ron made a comment about small-town police forces not doing a thorough job. Maybe he was banking on that,’ I said.

Millie and Mom’s brows drew sharply together.

‘Did you say elderly? Seth is our age,’ Mom said.

‘Err… I meant senior.’

‘Right, well anyway,’ Millie picked up the serving bowls. ‘It’s time to serve the breakfast. Meanwhile we need to figure out exactly what the Weatherbys have been up to.’

‘How do we do that?’ Mom picked up the plate with the ricotta pie on it, eyeing the pieces as if she was counting them to make sure she’d get leftovers.

‘We ask who saw them around and what exactly they were doing. Were they watching the gulls or doing something more? That sort of thing,’ Millie said.

‘What about Barbara Littlefield?’ Mom asked. ‘She’s always up on the cliff mothering that lousewort. If the Weatherbys have been up to some shenanigans, chances are she’s seen them. I’d say someone should talk to her.’

I grabbed the pitcher of juice from the fridge and follow Millie to the dining room. Mom had a point about Barbara. Maybe the crotchety building inspector would have her uses after all.

Sixteen

Millie and Mom had cast suspicious glances at the Weatherbys all during breakfast. It was a wonder they didn’t catch on to the fact that we suspected them. I couldn’t help but study them myself for suspicious activity, but they acted normal. Tina on the other hand kept staring at me, then averting her eyes, then dropping things on the floor. Clearly she was nervous that I’d tell everyone about her affair with Tony. I wouldn’t. That was the least of my worries.

Ava seemed oblivious to all of it and enjoyed two slices of ricotta pie while sipping tea from her dainty china teacup and chatting with Millie and Mom.

After breakfast, Mom and Millie helped me clean up and I drew the short straw so it was determined I would talk to Barbara. That’s how I found myself standing outside Barbara’s office in the town hall with the last piece of ricotta pie in a handy reusable plastic container.

The door to Barbara’s office was a giant imposing oak door. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had a humongous metal doorknocker and squeaky iron hinges, but it was just a regular oak four panel door.

‘Go ahead and knock, she’s not busy,’ the receptionist prompted because I was hesitating. ‘She doesn’t bite.’

I sucked in a breath wondering how badly I wanted to find out if she knew about the Weatherbys doing anything strange on the cliff. I reminded myself that Sheriff Chamberlain still thought I could be involved and tapped the door.

‘What do you want?’ Her voice bellowed through the door and it didn’t sound friendly.

‘Umm… It’s Josie Waters. I brought you some pie.’

‘Oh good. Come on in, I can serve you this fine in person.’

Great. I opened the door anyway. I figured she’d give me the fine no matter what, but maybe the pie would butter her up a bit. At the very least I still needed to ask about the Weatherbys.

I don’t know what I had expected her office to look like. Probably sparse and unwelcoming and filled with stainless steel furniture, bland indoor-outdoor carpet and uncomfortable plastic chairs. But what was inside was something else entirely. It looked like a tropical paradise.

Lush green plants lined the windowsills, crowded the tables and obscured the desk. There were plants of every size. Tall palm-like plants that stood in giant pots in the corner, to tiny seedlings under a fluorescent lamp. The heat was turned up to sweltering.

‘Well, well, well. I didn’t expect or want to see you, but I guess it is convenient.’ Barbara’s voice came from somewhere in front of me, but all I could see was plants. Then, two claw-like hands reached out to part the leaves of a gaggle of giant philodendrons that sat on the desk, and Barbara’s face peeked through, her eyes narrowed, mouth twisted in a sour puss.

‘Hi Barb— I mean Mrs. Littlefield!’ I tried to act cheery and shoved the pie out in front of me. ‘I had this leftover from breakfast and Millie thought it would be nice to bring it down.’

I heard a chair push back and I assumed she had stood. I couldn’t tell because the plants were so tall. She appeared around the corner of the desk (yes, it was dull gray metal just as I’d envisioned).

‘Millie Sullivan you say?’ She eyed the pie with suspicion and I hoped she wouldn’t recognize it as Tony’s. Was it bad etiquette to re-gift pie?

I nodded and handed it over. Barbara grabbed it and found some space on the desk for it, then folded her arms across her chest.‘That wouldn’t be a bribe now would it?’

‘What? No, of course not.’

‘I don’t take bribes.’ She shoved a piece of paper in my hand. ‘This here’s your fine for having a corpse on the premises during breakfast.’

‘That’s a real thing you can get fined for?’ I stared at the paper, my palms starting to sweat. I wasn’t sure if the sweating was because of the two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar price tag or the fact that the room was sweltering. Two hundred and fifty dollars? I could barely come up with that, but I knew it was no use to argue with her. Better not to anger her either, I still had a lot of renovations I had to get her approval for.

Barbara didn’t seem affected by the heat. ‘Yes it’s a real thing and payable within thirty days. You better get your act together over there or you might find yourself without a guesthouse to run.’

I swallowed hard, sweat beaded on my forehead. I felt like a chastised schoolgirl.‘Yes ma’am.’

‘Okay, now get lost.’

Shoot. I had to ask her about the cliffs. I wiped sweat out of my eyes and glanced at the plants. Inspiration struck. The best way to get people to like you was to talk about something they were interested in. Barbara was certainly interested in plants.‘I see you have some nice plants here. They look so healthy.’

She turned and frowned at me.‘What’s it to you?’

‘Nothing. Just um… they look nice.’

‘Thanks.’ She blinked and I thought I saw her eyes soften, but then they grew cold and hard just as quick.

This wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped. Okay, be more specific and get her talking. I walked over to the plants that were growing under the lights and made a pretense of admiring them while sweat rolled down my back. There were some dead plants on the lower shelf and I purposely didn’t mention, those focusing on the live ones instead. ‘Take these for example, they’re very green even though they are so young.’ I bent closer to them and reached out my hand to touch one.

‘Watch out!’ Barbara rushed over and practically slapped my hand away. ‘Those are

endangered lousewort. Be careful.’

Bingo! The perfect opening for me to ask about the cliff.‘Speaking of that. I’ve heard some of my guests talking about that and was wondering if you’ve seen them on the cliffs?’

‘Your guests? No. That area is off limits.’

‘I know, but it has a nice view.’

‘View, schmoo. The endangered plants are up there and no one is allowed.’

‘But the Weatherbys are avid birdwatchers and the gulls’ nests are near there and they eat the berries. Surely you must have seen them up there?’

She just glared at me and repeated,‘No one goes up there.’

Darn. She hadn’t seen anything. She’d probably have made big scene about it if she had seen them anyway. Was it possible that I was on the wrong track, that Charles and the Weatherbys weren’t up there? ‘Not even Charles Prescott?’

‘You mean the man who died?’

I nodded.

‘Nope. Never even met the man, much less saw him in a protected area. I would have written him up if I did. Now if you’re done asking me inane questions and trying to bribe me, I have work to do.’ She practically shoved me out the door.

I supposed that Charles could have been on the cliff when Barbara wasn’t there. She spent a lot of time tending to the lousewort, but she couldn’t possibly be up there every minute. And, if the Weatherbys were up to something suspicious, wouldn’t they make sure they were alone? Unfortunately my whole trip had been a waste, but just because Barbara hadn’t seenanyone, didn’t mean that they hadn’t been there.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Barbara hadn’t been a wealth of information, so I left her office disappointed. I had been hoping she could corroborate my theory about the Weatherbys and had seen them doing something suspicious.

Since I was in town, I figured it was only fitting that I pop in and visit Jen. Seeing her always lifted my spirits and I could use someone to bounce my theories off of and help me figure out what to do next. Mom and Millie were fine to investigate with, but I needed another opinion.

As I started down Main Street toward the post office, my phone pinged. It was Emma.

Just checking in. How you doing?

How nice was that? My daughter was taking the time out of her busy day to check up on me. Then I frowned. Maybe she’d been talking to mom again and had gotten an earful of information about dead bodies and potential suspects.

I’m great. Don’t listen to anything grandma tells you.

It took a few seconds for her reply.

Lol. I just want you to be safe. Remember, don’t jump to conclusions without the proper evidence. That’s what I learned in school.

How the tables had turned. When Emma was a teenager, I’d texted her advice trying to keep her out of trouble, now she was texting it to me. But she had a point. Did I have the proper evidence to suspect the Weatherby’s or was I jumping to conclusions?

I won’t, don’t worry. I’m too busy running the guesthouse for that.

Okay so it was a little white lie. Probably no worse than some of the things she’d texted me when she was young. Of course, her reply speared me with guilt.

Okay, Mom. Gotta run. Love you!

Love you too.

I put my phone in my pocket and continued on to the post office, my thoughts swirling about the Weatherbys. I was starting to second guess myself. What did I really have on the Weatherbys? The fact that they didn’t know technical information about cameras and had straw and feathers in their room? Flimsy at best.

I held the door for two senior citizens who were leaving as I exited. Their smiles faded as they recognized me, and they sidled away as if I was contagious.

‘Morning Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Newhart,’ I said pleasantly.

Mrs. Newhart narrowed her eyes and nodded.

Mrs. Fisher grabbed Newhart’s arm and hauled her down the street

They shuffled off, heads bent together, hose wrinkled around their ankles. I thought I heard some words drift over to me‘…heard she was involved in a murder…’

Oh no. The Oyster Cove rumor mill was in full force and I was the subject. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I knew from past experience that all the good gossip was gleaned down at the post office. All the more reason to help Sheriff Chamberlain along with his investigation. I strode into the post office with dogged determination.

Inside, Jen was standing at the counter, a two-foot-high pile of envelopes on her left, a large round stamper on her right and an angry look on her face.

Stamp. Stamp. Stamp.

She plucked envelopes from the top of the stack and hammered the stamper down on them, then piled them on her right.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

She blew a bang out of her eyes.‘Stupid postmarking machine broke. I have to do these by hand.’

‘Can I help?’

She paused the stamping and smiled at me.‘No. Thanks for the offer, but I only have one stamper. I could use the company though, this is boring.’

Stamp. Stamp.

‘I have some news that will liven things up.’

She looked up at me, barely stopping the stamping rhythm.‘Oh? Did you figure out who the killer is?’

‘Sort of. Remember how I told you about the footprint and the bad review that Charles wrote on the Marinara Mariner?’

‘Yep.’ Stamp. Stamp.

‘Well, I was partially right.’

The stamping stopped and she looked up at me.‘Tony really was the killer?’

‘No. But it was his footprint.’

The stamping resumed.‘But he wasn’t the killer? What was he doing there?’

I told her about Tony’s visit and his and Tina’s confession. ‘I have new suspects now though. I think it might be the old couple staying at the guesthouse,’ I said.

‘The birdwatchers? Why?’

‘According to Flora, they had feathers and straw all over the room. You know. like from birds’ nests,’ I said.

Stamp.

‘Flora doesn’t see too well and she’s been known to exaggerate.’ Jen punctuated her words with more stamping.

‘Well, they were seen up at the gulls’ nests.’

‘Why is that unusual? They are birdwatchers, right?’

Stamp. Stamp.

Hmm… she had a point. Maybe I was seeing malice where there was none. But they were my only suspects. ‘Mike said they didn’t know the details about one of the cameras they used. That seems odd to me if they are such avid bird watchers.’

Jen stopped stamping and looked up at me with a sly smile.‘So youare hanging around with Mike.’

‘No!’ Judging by the knowing look Jen gave me, the protest might have been too forceful. I tempered my voice and said matter of factly, ‘He only saw the camera because he’s working there and hopefully not for long.’

‘Uh-huh. Come on, I know you were crushing on him in high school. Admit it. You like having him around.’

‘That was more than twenty years ago. I’ve been married since. Who lingers on their high school crush anyway?’

She looked at me skeptically then went back to stamping.‘Just because you were married to a jerk, shouldn’t sour you on men. Look at all the jerks I dated before I found the right guy.’

Jen wasn’t joking, she had dated a lot of jerks, but now she was with her soulmate. I was a little envious of their wedded bliss, but also doubtful that would happen for me. I was no spring chicken. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for dating.’

‘Ohhh so there’s a chance you might be someday. Good, I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Great. So back to the case…’

‘Right’ She made a face as if trying to remember the specifics. ‘What about the sabotage? Could Ron have done that?’

I’d wondered that myself, but it wasn’t like it took a lot of strength or skill to do that sawing. One would have to know just where to make the cuts, but it wasn’t rocket science. ‘Maybe Ron was a carpenter before. I mean he certainly could have sabotaged the roomand he made a remark about small-town police not following up thoroughly, so I wonder if he was banking on the fact that Seth Chamberlain might not even notice the sabotage and rule it an accident.’

Jen stopped stamping and thought about it.‘I guess that is a lot of counts against them. I just can’t believe those nice people could be killers. The Wessons were so nice.’

‘Wessons? You mean Weatherbys.’

She scrunched her face up.‘No. Wesson. They came in to pick up a package the other day and I’m certain that was the name on it.’

‘No. They signed in as Weatherby. It was on his license.’

Jen’s brows shot up. ‘What if they have a fake identity? If they are the killers, they might be pretending to be someone else.’

‘Why? I doubt they came here knowing they would kill someone.’ Then again, if they came knowing they were going to poison the gulls, maybe they did use a fake identity.

‘Serial seagull killers? Who knows. With fake names they can kill off whole colonies of gulls and then disappear and no one can trace it back to them.’

That made sense to me.‘You could be on to something. There is definitely something suspicious about the old couple.’

‘There’s only one way to find out what it is.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Follow them around and see what they do. If they killed Charles because he discovered they were doing something shady, and they didn’t leave town right away, then chances are they are still doing it.’

Seventeen

Nero shrunk back into the doorway of the bookstore as Josie came out of the Post Office.‘Get back! She’ll see us!’

Marlowe crouched low beside him. Juliette, Boots and Harry just looked at him.

‘So what if she sees you?’ Stubbs asked.

‘We don’t want her to think we’re following her.’

‘Ahh… Still playing aloof?’ Juliette preened.

‘Yep. Plus we don’t want her to try to lock us up inside or anything. We need to be free to protect her,’ Marlowe said.

All the cats shuddered at the thought of being shut up inside. Sure, many humans tried to curtail their outdoor activities thinking it was in their best interest and it likely was forregular cats. But Nero and his gang were special and needed to be free to roam around. How else would they solve mysteries?

‘Especially since I feel she may be barking up the wrong tree.’ Nero peeked out from his hiding spot. Josie was almost a block away. He slipped out and trotted a few stores down, taking care to stick close to the edge of the building and duck into doorways when possible. The others followed.

‘Barking up the wrong tree?’ Juliette asked. ‘Sounds like something that Mrs. Peterson’s chihuahua would do.’

‘I’ve seen him do that a few times,’ Harry said.

‘Very funny,’ Boots ran his paw the length of his long whisker, curling it up at the end with a flourish. ‘Nero means that he thinks Josie is on the wrong track. Why don’t you fill us in Nero?’

‘There was an incident at the guesthouse last night that eliminated some of the suspects.’ Nero told them how Tony had come to the Guesthouse and what happened after. Admittedly, he might have embellished the whole confrontation part a little bit to make it seem like he and Marlowe had stopped Tony from harming Josie, but since Marlowe didn’t disagree he felt like he was within his rights. He certainlywould have if it came to that.

‘Darn. I thought that clog print was a sure-fire clue and Tony would take the rap. So now what?’ Stubbs asked.

‘Once Tony was cleared, we knew Josie had to go back to the earlier clue. The note.’ Nero ducked quickly behind a tree when Josie turned around. ‘Holy Hiss, did she see us?’

Marlowe, who had ducked right behind him, peered out.‘I don’t think so. Looks like she’s getting into her car.’

‘Hmm… I wish I knew where she was going.’ Nero narrowed his gaze at Josie, who was settling in behind the wheel of her twelve-year-old Dodge sedan.

‘Hopefully back to the guesthouse,’ Harry said.

‘We can take the shortcut back there,’ Nero suggested.

‘Did you convince her to look at the note? I thought the police had it,’ Boots said.

Marlowe nodded.‘It took quite a bit of effort, but she finally got the hint. Luckily she had a picture of it on her phone.’

‘So what happened? Don’t tell me the note was a bum steer,’ Stubbs said, using his hard-boiled detective lingo again.

‘She puzzled out the potential meanings of the letters,’ Nero said.

‘Josie seems quite adept at word puzzles and games. I’ve seen her do the crosswords before,’ Marlowe added.

‘She discovered something?’ Juliette asked.

‘Now she suspects the Weatherbys. I feel she might be getting into dangerous territory though and want to keep her close.’ Josie’s car pulled onto the road and Nero dove under a shrub, scaring the bejesus out of a sparrow who burst out the other side like he’d been shot from a canon.

‘Are you sure she’s correct in suspecting the Weatherbys?’ Boots asked. ‘My whiskers are tingling at the thought and not in a good way.’

‘There are some clues. We saw gull feathers and nesting material in their room,’ Marlowe said.

‘And I saw them near the gulls’ nests,’ Juliette added.

‘They do seem overly interested in the gulls and Josie thought the note might be a blackmail note because Charles caught someone messing around with the gulls somehow.’

‘You mean this all has to do with what is happening to the gulls?’ Harry asked.

‘It’s a possibility.’ Nero scrambled out from under the bush and shook errant leaves off his coat, then started to groom off any dirt that might have gotten on the white patch of his chest. ‘Whatever the real reason is, Josie is determined to find the killer. Her reputation is on the line, after all.’

‘Of course. And we must assist like we always do.’

‘Great. Well, we gotta run.’ Nero trotted off in the direction of the shortcut that led to the guesthouse. ‘I’ll keep you all posted.’

‘Let us know if we can do anything else!’ Poe yelled after him.

‘You know where to find us!’ Harry added.

‘I’ll be watching the cliff from the Belfry!’ Juliette purred.

Nero broke into a full run, Marlowe at his tail. If they hurried they could get back to the guesthouse before Josie did something that might put herself in danger.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I waited almost all day for the Weatherbys to make a move. I hovered around the front rooms with my duster, trying to look busy. I wanted to stay near the foyer so I could catch them if they left, but there was only so much dusting and straightening one could do in the front rooms.

I felt a little like a creep. Was I doing the right thing? If they were innocent, I’d simply see them taking pictures of birds. But if not…

I’d also had the distinct feeling someone… or something… was following me when I left the post office earlier that day. I hadn’t seen anyone when I did a tricky glance over my shoulders and the Weatherbys car was parked and cold (yes, I felt the hood) when I got back to the guesthouse, so itwasn’t them. What ifthey weren’t the killers and it was the real killer who was following me?

The cats had been acting strangely too. They bolted into the house a few minutes after I got home and had been staring at me the whole time. Now all of a sudden they’d disappeared. A creak on the stairs brought me out of my reverie.

‘Oh, hi, Josie. Huh, I saw Flora cleaning in here earlier.’ Ron looked at me suspiciously. ‘How often do you have to dust this place?’

‘One can never have things too clean!’ I chirped. ‘Old houses collect lots of dust.’

‘Ahem. Right. Well the Mrs. and I are just going for a walk.’ Ron held up the camera that dangled around his neck. ‘Going to see if we can spot a blue-billed horn-swallow.’

‘They have those around here?’ I’d never actually heard of one. Was he making it up? If he was the killer, then he probably was. I remembered how Mike had said that he thought it was odd that Ron had the specifications of his camera wrong, maybe he’d been lying then too? Maybe if I’d listenedto Mike, I would have realized Ron could be the killer sooner. Of course, I would never tell Mike that.

‘They are very rare, but we’re hopeful!’ Iona pulled Ron out the door and I stared out the window as they headed off to the path at the edge of the estate property. It wound up the hill above the Smugglers Bay Inn, then over to the cliffs near the gulls. I tossed down my feather duster and followed.

I’d always liked the serenity of walking in the woods with only the chipmunks and birds as company. The smell of pine and the dapples of sunlight filtering through the leaves can be magical. Except for today. Today the woods had an ominous feeling and being alone wasn’t quite so serene.

I came to a fork in the path. Now, which trail had they taken? I squinted down the path on the right and caught sight of something red moving in between the trees. Iona’s shirt. I picked up the pace. Something dark ran in front of me, almost tripping me.

‘Whoa!’

Mew! Nero leapt onto a rock and preened.

‘Hey, watch it.’ I whispered because I didn’t want to alert the Weatherbys to my presence.

Purrr. Marlowe did circle-eights around my ankles.

‘Get lost. Shoo. I’m busy.’ I stepped over her and continued on the path, slowing when I came to the corner. I didn’t want the Weatherbys to see me if they’d slowed down. And surely they must have slowed, because we were going uphill. I knowI felt like slowing down, and they were a lot older. I could probably take my time and let them get to the cliffs and still see them doing something nefarious. But what if they also did something along the way? I didn’t want to miss that.

Meow!Nero shot ahead of me on the path then stopped, almost blocking it.

‘Look out,’ I whispered, stepping over him again. Darn cats were going to ruin everything.

I turned the corner. No Weatherbys. I went a little faster, now afraid I might miss out on something.

Nero and Marlowe trotted in front of me in the most annoying way possible. It was almost as if they were trying to trip me.

Another splash of red! They were just ahead. I didn’t want to lose them now, but also couldn’t let them know that I was here.

I continued on, craning to see ahead. They were probably around the next corner. I rounded cautiously.

No one was there.

I picked up the pace. Maybe the next corner.

Nope. Where were they? Had I lost them? And where were the cats? They’d run off and—

‘Josie. What brings you out here?’

I spun around to see Ron and Iona Weatherby blocking the path.

‘Josie. What a surprise!’ Iona really did look surprised, but how had they gotten behind me without seeing me on the path? And why would they double back and then come back up? Had they seen me following them and come to confront me? Would I be their next victim? I tensed, ready to flee. Too bad they were blocking the way. I had nowhere to go but toward the cliff. Images of my body smashed on the rocks came to mind.

Mew.

Nero, the traitor, was threading between Iona’s ankles and she bent down to pet him. ‘We didn’t realize you were a nature lover.’ Ron stepped closer, a look of suspicion on his face.

‘I am. Really. But I don’t get much time to enjoy it what with all my duties at the Guesthouse.’ I stuttered as I tried to plan my escape. I could dart around the big pine, jump over that fallen oak and crash through the woods to connect with the trail below. They were old, I could outrun them.

Meow!Nero trotted over to Ron and gave him the same purring ankle rubbing routine.

‘Yes, of course.’ Ron said. ‘But you do come out here often?’

‘Uh huh… Yep.’

‘I suppose you go up to the cliff?’ Iona straightened from where she’d crouched to pet the cat and brushed her hands together. ‘The view is outstanding.’

‘Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t? Is that where you go?’ While I was stuck here, I might as well ask them some questions and see if I could trip them up.

‘Oh yes.’ Ron hefted the camera. ‘Bird watching.’

‘The gulls?’ I tried to keep my voice casual.

Ron’s brow furrowed. ‘What do you know about the gulls?’

Aha! I could tell by the way he asked that he was worried. His tone definitely indicated guilt. But I had to be careful. If they had killed Charles as I suspected, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.

I shrugged as if I had no suspicions at all.‘They nest up there. It’s sad what’s happening to them, but that’s nature I guess.’

‘What do you mean?’ Iona asked innocently.

Trying to play dumb? Well, two could play at that game.‘They’re dying at an alarming rate. I guess it’s just a cycle of nature? Not enough food to support the growth of the colony.’

Ron and Iona exchanged a glance. Had I fooled them? Now was my chance to get away.

Nero and Marlowe had trotted back on the path and were looking over their shoulders at me. Yep, that was my cue to leave.

‘Oh, look at the time!’ I glanced at my wrist. ‘The cats are signaling that they need their afternoon meal.’ I pointed toward the two cats who were staring at us.

Ron and Iona looked dubious but they stood aside.‘Of course, dear. You shouldn’t delay their feeding. Too bad you won’t make it to the cliff. Seems a waste to come halfway up and not get to the top.’

Yeah, too bad because that would be a great place to push me off.‘I know, but I live here so I get to go anytime I want. You two enjoy!’ I hurried off without looking back.

Only when I was a safe distance away did I turn around. Judging by the way those two had been acting, my suspicions were confirmed that there were the culprits. But what should I do about that? I couldn’t tell Seth Chamberlain until I had some concrete proof. He’d never listen, especially after I’d messed up by pointing the finger at Tony. I was going to have to resort to breaking into their rooms and looking around.

Eighteen

Later that afternoon, I made sure the Weatherbys saw the big coupon for the senior special at Salty’s Crab Shack that night. Since I didn’t serve dinner it was a sure bet they’d be dining out. I waited a few minutes after they drove off just to make sure they didn’t turn back.

Once all the guests were out to dinner, I rushed up the stairs, tamping down the guilt that was spreading in my chest as I fingered the spare key to the Weatherbys room. I’d only ever used the room key for cleaning, and this felt like a violation. I reminded myself that the nice old couple could be hardened killers and looking in their room was necessary to find evidence.

I was bent over the keyhole and assured myself this was the right thing to do when I heard,‘What are you doing?’

Dang! I’d been so focused on sneaking around that I hadn’t noticed Mike coming down the hall. He had his tool belt and a dark gray t-shirt that showed off the fact that he still kept in shape even after being out of the Navy for several years. Not that I was noticing.

I straightened and leaned against the wall casually as if breaking into guests’ rooms was nothing out of the ordinary. ‘Cleaning.’

He glanced at the door.‘Isn’t that the Weatherbys room?’

‘Yep. Still needs to be cleaned.’

He leaned his shoulder against the wall so he was facing me and cocked his head.‘I thought Flora did the cleaning.’

I snorted.‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, I guess maybe she doesn’t do all of it.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But you wouldn’t be doing some snooping in there, would you?’

I tried to look incredulous.‘Me? I would never snoop on guests. Why would I?’

‘Aunt Millie told me all about the new theory you guys have come up with that Charles was blackmailing someone. She said you suspected the Weatherbys.’

Dang. Millie had a big mouth.

‘Maybe.’ I studied him for a second. He had been an investigator in the Navy and had been acting like he was interested in this case. Maybe he had an opinion. And since I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about the Weatherbys, maybe I should listen to it. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugged.‘Might be a good deduction, but I don’t think they did it. The sabotage of the stairs doesn’t seem like their forte.’

I leaned closer to him and lowered my voice.‘But you said they acted suspiciously about the cameras.’

He inched closer and my heartbeat sped up.‘Yeah, I did. But whether it is or isn’t them,you shouldn’t be investigating it. Leave it to Sheriff Chamberlain.’

I sighed.‘I wish I could, but he seems to be barking up the wrong tree and I’m sitting on the top branch.’

Mike’s face softened. ‘I know. Don’t worry. The truth will come out. I’ve been looking into it myself, so you don’t need to concern yourself with it.’

I didn’t need to concern myself? Did he seriously just say that? Did he think I should keep to the cooking and cleaning and let the men do the investigating? Ha! I’d show him. But I didn’t voice my thoughts. Better to let him think I was playing along with him, I knew how to handle domineering, control-freaky men.

I smiled sweetly.‘That’s really nice of you. I suppose you’re right. Thanks. Now if you don’t mind…’ I gestured toward the door.

‘Right, you have cleaning. You work really hard here. Maybe you need a night out.’

Not with you. No way.‘Maybe.’

‘I’m just finishing up here and…’

He let his voice drift off and an eager puppy dog look spread across his face. I knew what he was suggesting but I would not be swayed. He probably just wanted to get me away from the Weatherbys room so I wouldn’t get evidence that they were the killers before he did. I knew how competitive men could be. Besides, I had no desire to go on a date. Not with him or anyone for that matter. For one, I was still reeling after the divorce and for two we had history and it wasn’t all pretty.

‘You must be almost done with the work Millie contracted you to do,’ I said by way of avoiding his suggestion.

Mike nodded, looking kind of sad.‘This place needs a lot more work though. I have spare time in my schedule…’

‘Thanks, but I have a tight budget.’ The last thing I wanted was Mike hanging around here. As it was, I was almost starting to get used to him and I certainly did not want that. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I’d already been talking to Ed O’Hara—a nice retired gentleman who was not within my dating range—about doing the rest of the work.

He leaned in.‘I’d be willing to give you a discount or we could work something out.’

He was magnetic, with a charming smile and soulful brown eyes. A discount would be nice. So would… wait! No. I was not going to go there. Best if he was out of my sight for good.

‘I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you, but thanks for the offer.’ I gestured toward the door. ‘I really need to get to work.’

He pushed away from the wall, obviously disappointed.‘Ok. But I hope you really are cleaning. I’m serious Josie, there’s a killer on the loose and it could be dangerous.’

‘Me too. Just cleaning.’ I smiled and managed to hold his gaze until he walked away. Once I heard the last stair creak, I let out my breath. I didn’t like being sneaky or lying, but one did what one had to do.

I slipped the key into the lock, turned the knob and the door squeaked open.

Given Flora’s description, I had expected the room to be filled with feathers and straw, but it was neat as a pin. Maybe Florahad cleaned. Most likely she’d exaggerated. I poked around in the bureau, under the bed and in the medicine cabinet.

The sound of tires on gravel startled me and I ran to the window. It was only Mike leaving. The driveway was empty. The Weatherbys car was still gone, but I knew I had to hurry.

In the small drawer of the writing desk, I hit pay dirt. An envelope addressed to Bill and Cindy Weston. Hmm… maybe I was on to something, but I needed more.

Maybe in the closet or between the mattress and box spring?

I was on my hands and knees in the closet, examining the bottom of Ron’s shoes, which had straw and twigs embedded inside the thick treads, when I heard the door open.

‘I’ve been craving clams ever since—’ Iona’s words were cut off as she noticed me crouched there on the floor. ‘Josie? What are you doing?’

‘Ummm… just cleaning.’

Her questioning gaze was riveted on my right hand, which still held Ron’s shoe.

‘I like to vacuum under the shoes.’ I plopped the shoe back down and jumped up. ‘See? All nice and clean.’

Ron’s closed the door and glared at me. His eyes were not friendly. ‘I don’t see any vacuum cleaner.’

Crap. Maybe Mike had been right and I should have stayed out of investigating. But if I didn’t, I’d have to remember to bring props next time if I was trying to pose as a cleaning excuse.

‘I prefer the old-fashioned method of picking stuff up by hand.’

Mew!

The cats must have snuck in with the Weatherbys. They trotted around Iona’s feet, looking up at the bag of takeout food from Salty’s which was filling the room with the delicious smell of fried clams. Just my luck they’d decided to get takeout instead of eat in.

Meow!

Nero cast a glance at me. Was he trying to signal me? To let me know they would help me escape if need be? Because judging by the way Ron was planted in front of the door with his hands on his hips, I might need help.

Iona put the bag on the dresser and Marlowe immediately jumped up and started sniffing.

Iona glared at me. No longer did she look like a sweet old lady.‘Looks like you didn’t rush home to feed the cats like you said you were going to do when we saw you out in the woods. This one appears to be starving.’

‘Oh, them.’ I waved my hand dismissively at the cats. ‘They beg for food all the time.’

I inched toward the doorway. Maybe I could rush Ron and knock him over? I hated to knock over a senior citizen, but he was a killer.

‘No sense in lying, Josie. We know what you were up to out in the woods,’ Ron said.

So they knew I was on to them. Fine! I’d get myself out of this somehow.

Mew!

Nero jumped up on the dresser and sniffed.

Iona snatched up the bag.‘I don’t think fried clams are good for cats.’

Lovely, a senior citizen killer who cared about cat nutrition.

‘That’s right. I’ll just take them downstairs for some properly formulated cat food.’ I glanced at Nero and Marlowe. Not sure what I was expecting. Maybe for them to distract the Weatherbys while I made a break for it? But they were more interested in the takeout bag because now they were sitting at Iona’s feet practically begging like dogs.

‘Nice try, Josie. You might as was well confess. We aren’t letting you go.’ Ron stood firmly in front of the door.

Images of my body at the bottom of the stairs in the West wing bubbled up. I hadn’t heard any other cars pull in, so it was likely no one else was home. Why hadn’t I listened to Mike? I decided to buy some time.

I crossed my arms over my chest.‘You confess first. I know what you’ve been up to.’

Ron and Iona glanced at each other.‘You do? How did you find out?’

‘Process of elimination,’ I said proudly. But not too proudly, lest it anger them and make their killing method more painful.

Meroo…

Nero tore his attention from the bag long enough to blink at me. Was that some kind of signal? Too bad I didn’t understand cat-blink.

I moved toward the door another inch. Maybe it was best to let them take me to the West wing. That way I’d have more opportunities to escape. Or maybe I should try to reason with them? Convince them to give themselves up.

‘What are you going to do? Push me down the stairs and try to make it look like an accident? I don’t think the police will fall for that again.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Iona looked confused.

‘Don’t play dumb. I know the truth and what you’ve been up to. But you can’t kill me like you did Charles. It won’t work. Might be easier to give yourselves up. I’m sure it was an accident. The cops will go easy, but if you kill me too… not so much.’

‘What are you talking about? Why would we kill Charles?’

‘To cover up the fact that you were messing with the gulls, of course.’

Ron and Iona looked nervous. Clearly I’d hit a nerve. They hadn’t figured that I’d discovered their secret about the gulls.

Meroo!

Marlowe and Nero sat at Iona’s feet, tails swishing back and forth anxiously. Eyes focused on the bag of clams. Fine friends they were. Here I was about to be murdered and all they could think about was clams.

‘Oh, for crying out loud, give them a clam.’ Ron took a step toward me, and I backed up. ‘Now Josie, I see what you are trying to do but it won’t work.’

Darn! He was onto my ploy to keep them talking and try to hedge toward the door. Now what? I glanced back at the window, but we were on the second floor. Maybe I could lock myself in the bathroom?

‘You’re not going to get away with murder. Think about it.’

‘Why do you keep saying that?’ Iona had taken a clam out of the bag, picked off the coating and was feeding little pieces to the cats. They were lapping it up, not paying any attention to the dire circumstances going on around them. ‘It’s no use trying to cover up what you’ve been doing.’

I frowned.‘WhatI’ve been doing?’

‘Yes dear,’ Ron managed to look fatherly. ‘It’s quite obvious that you’re the one who has been killing the gulls. Earlier when we caught you in the woods, we know you were going to the nests, but turned back because you ran into us. I don’t know what happened with that Charles fellow but if you just confess, I think we can convince the authorities to go easy on you.’

‘What I don’t understand is why you would do it… were the gulls hurting business at the guesthouse?’ Iona tossed a tiny clam morsel to Nero, who caught it mid-air like a dog.

This was confusing. What was their angle? Would they try to blame me for their crime? Maybe they were trying to force a confession like I was doing to them. I fisted my hands on my hips and stood my ground.‘I had nothing to do with the gulls. They aren’t hurting business at all. They don’t even come here.’ I gestured toward the window where a few evening gulls were circling far over the water, as if to prove my point.

Iona popped a clam in her mouth and exchanged a confused look with Ron.‘Well then, why harm them?’

‘It’s not me, it’s you!’

Ron shook his head and gave me a sad look of pity, then reached in the bag for a clam.‘Think about it, this has been happening long before we came. It’s not us.’

I still didn’t believe him. ‘How do I know you weren’t in town staying somewhere else before? And what about the fact that you have been lurking up near the gulls. You don’t know the specifics of your camera and had straw and twigs from the gulls’ nests in your shoes!’ Ha! Now I had him.

Ron glanced at Iona.‘Looks like we better enact plan B.’

He advanced toward me, a serious look on his face. Ooops, now I’d done it. I stepped back, but the dresser stopped me from going further. He kept coming. My heart thudded against my chest as I searched for a means of escape.

I glanced at Iona for help. I mean I know she was in cahoots with him but maybe she’d have pity on a fellow woman.

Too late. He was almost on me. He reached out as if to grab me, I dodged left, threw myself on the floor and tucked into a roll.

To my surprise he didn’t lunge for me. Instead he gave me a funny look and opened the bureau drawer.

He fished underneath. Probably where he kept the gun!

I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my arm across my face as if that might stop a bullet.‘Don’t shoot!’

‘Shoot? Josie, dear, what are you talking about?’ Iona asked.

I opened my eyes. Ron was standing in front of me, a yellow padded mailer in his hand. He reached in and pulled out what looked like a wallet. He flipped it open. Inside was a gold badge and ID card.

‘You didn’t believe us, so I wanted to prove to you why we were here and why we can’t possibly be the ones who have been harming the gulls.’ Ron handed the badge over.

It looked official, but I’d never heard of the department. ‘U.S. Department of Audubon Investigations?’

Rona and Iona nodded.‘Yes. We’re investigators for a special government division. Not a lot of people know there is a department of Audobon Investigations. We often get confused with the Audubon Society, but we have no relation to that. You were right about one thing, we aren’t here as regular guests. We were sent to investigate what’s happening with the gulls.’

‘And our name isn’t Ron and Iona Weatherby either.’ Iona picked a clam out of the bag and passed it to Ron. ‘It’s Bob and Cindy Wesson and I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re looking mighty suspicious right now.’

‘Especially since we caught you skulking around in the woods today and looking very guilty,’ Ron added.

Iona nodded.‘And the way you ran off after we caught you… well, you can see why we think you’re the culprit.’

I sank down on the bed. Ron and Iona (yes, I still thought of them as their fake names) were government agents? Even worse, they suspected me! I supposed I had been acting funny in the woods, but that was only because I thought they were killers.‘I was guilty. But not of doing anything to the gulls. I was following you because I thoughtyou were doing something to them!’

The cats purred around my ankles as I told Ron and Iona about the note and my suspicions that Charles wasn’t killed because of a review, but because he was blackmailing someone.

‘And you thought he was blackmailing us?’ Iona chewed thoughtfully. ‘Well I suppose I can see why. We were going off and watching the gulls every day, but that was for research, of course you didn’t know that.’

‘And we did investigate the nests,’ Ron said. ‘Funny thing we didn’t find anything wrong. We suspect someone is somehow poisoning the gulls. We’ve been trying to figure out where you kept the poison so we could confiscate it for evidence and turn it over to the police.’

‘Well it’s not me,’ I said. ‘I mean why would I? The gulls are not a nuisance to me and why would I kill Charles and put the reputation of the guesthouse in jeopardy?’

‘Good point.’ Iona sat on the bed beside me, passed me the clams and patted my knee. ‘Besides you’re not the killing type. Gull or human. And we’ve seen a lot of killers, haven’t we dear?’ She looked up at Ron, who nodded.

‘I was afraid we were on the wrong track with you, anyway,’ Ron said. ‘We had no evidence that you even went near the cliff until we saw you on the path. And, as you said, you have no motive.’

Iona nodded.‘But when we ran into you on the path, we started to second guess ourselves. Funny that it turns out you were looking for the same person we were.’

I fished around in the bag and picked out a clam with a big belly. I paused before scarfing it down.‘Well, if it’s not you and it’s not me, then who is it?’

Nineteen

Nero’s mouth watered as he watched Josie eat the succulent clam with the plump belly. ‘I wish they’d pass some of those to us.’

‘Yeah what gives? The lady was feeding us until they sorted things out.’ Marlowe watched Josie pass the bag to Ron. ‘It’s like they’ve forgotten all about us. Maybe I should hack up a hairball.’

‘No, they don’t like it when that happens around food,’ Nero sighed, and hopped down from the bed. ‘I’m just glad they’ve straightened things out.’

‘Yeah, I was sure there would be a problem when Josie followed them through the woods.’

‘Me too, especially since she wasn’t understanding our hints about turning back.’

Marlowe preened her belly.‘It did seem as if she was turning to us for help a little while ago here in the room, though.’

‘Yet she didn’t ‘get’ the hint that we were not concerned and she shouldn’t be either.’ The clam bag crinkled and Nero looked up at the humans. They were seated side by side on the bed, no longer paying attention to the cats. Had they eaten all the clams?

‘I think we need to figure out who has a vested interest in getting rid of the gulls,’ Ron said.

‘Are we really sure the gulls’ plight is connected to Charles’ death?’ Iona glanced at Nero. He willed her to pick out another clam for him and she did! But just so the humans didn’t think they were too eager, he let it drop on the floor before sniffing at it disdainfully for a few seconds, then hunkering down and eating it slowly.

‘I get the next one,’ Marlowe said.

‘Fine, but we can’t waste too much time eating. We have to point them toward the real suspect.’ Nero swallowed the last tidbit and licked his lips.

‘Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the gulls. I could have been wrong about the letter. I mean it was only a few parts of words,’ Josie said.

‘What were the parts?’ Ron asked.

While Josie fished out her phone and showed the Weatherbys the picture of the note, Nero got to work trying to give them a hint. Who was the killer and what were they doing with the gulls? Now that it had been proven not to be the Weatherbys, Nero could think of only one person it could be.

He hopped up on the old cast iron steam radiator under the window. Luckily it was summer and the heat wasn’t on, otherwise he would surely have burned his paws. As it was, the radiator, with its fancy accordion of scrolled pipes, was not very comfortable. It was all part of the sacrifices cats to make for their humans. ‘The humans are asking the same question we asked ourselves earlier. Maybe this time Josie will listen and come to the same conclusion.’

Meroo!

‘Oh shush now, you’ve had more than your share of clams.’ Iona waved a dismissive hand at him without even looking in his direction.

‘I think I’m going to need help,’ Nero said to Marlowe.

Marlowe joined him on the dresser. She sat and curled her tail around him, then looked out toward the cove, her whiskers twitching. The moon was out and the last gull had gone wherever gulls go at night. But hopefully Josie would get their drift.

Merooo!

Mewo!

Merowl!

‘What’s going on? Is something out there?’ Josie came to join them at the window, petting the top of Nero’s head. He had to admit it felt good. He let down his guard and purred a few times.

Mew!Marlowe signaled that she wanted attention too, but she kept her eyes on the cove.

‘Something sure must be interesting out there.’ Josie petted Marlowe, giving her equal attention. ‘What do you see?’ Josie stared out the window. ‘Oh, I think I’ve got it!’

‘What’s that?’ Ron asked.

Josie whirled around.‘Stella Dumont runs the Smugglers Bay Inn over there. The gulls have been hanging around her deck and pooping all over it.’

‘Really?’ Iona and Ron joined Josie, squinting out in to the night.

‘Not only that, but Stella has been seen lurking around here,’ Josie said.

‘And Charles was killed here,’ Ron added.

‘Do you think Charles caught Stella doing something to harm the gulls?’ Iona asked.

‘I wouldn’t put it past her to do that. Or to kill Charles,’ Josie said.

Nero and Marlowe hopped down from the radiator, they tails held high proudly. Finally, Josie had gotten their hint and now it was up to the humans to catch the killer.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

‘Iknew it was Stella,’ I said. ‘I should have trusted my first instincts, but I thought it had something to do with Charles’ cookbook. When I found out that it was Tina who took it, I ruled Stella out.’

‘But what proof do we have?’ Iona peered out the window as if the answer was out there somewhere.

‘Well, she does have a problem with the gulls,’ Ron said. ‘Remember when we went there for lunch and gull pooped in your clam chowder?’

Iona made face.‘Yeah. Nasty.’

‘And my maid saw her skulking around here.’ Josie pressed her lips together. ‘I don’t remember if she said it was the night Charles died. I’ll have to ask.’

‘That does seem like a start. But it’s not enough to call the sheriff on.’ Ron’s words dashed my hopes.

‘But we have to dosomething,’ I said.

‘Indeed.’ Ron tapped his lips with his finger. ‘What we need is to set a trap and let her walk right into it and prove her guilt.’

‘Like what?’ Iona asked.

‘Something that would be irresistible to the killer. Something that would make them expose themselves somehow.’

I snapped my fingers.‘Got it! What if we say we found a clue in the room Charles was killed and when the police run forensics on it, it will leave no doubt who killed Charles.’

‘Like what? DNA? A fingerprint?’ Ron asked.

‘Maybe.’

‘We might not have to be too specific,’ Iona said. ‘We can avoid the details, just a hint is better.’

‘But how do we get this information to the killer?’

‘This is a small town and unless I am out of touch, if there is something juicy to talk about, there are certain circles where you can let the secret out and it will be around town in no time.’ Iona glanced at me and I nodded.

‘Good,’ Ron said. ‘Here’s what we need to do. We’ll start a rumor that you’ve found a clue to the killer’s identity. It’s in the West wing where Charles was killed.’

‘And the killer will come to find it before the police!’ Iona said.

I frowned.‘That won’t work, the killer isn’t just going to waltz into a guesthouse full of people.

Ron’s eyes gleamed. ‘Not with a guesthouse full of people. But everyone knows that you don’t serve dinner. Can you arrange something in town where your guests get a discount somewhere tomorrow night? We’ll help make sure everyone goes out to take advantage of it.’ Ron pointed to the clam bag. ‘You know, like you made it so obvious that there was a special at Salty’s.’

My cheeks prickled with heat. Had I been that obvious? Is that why Ron and Iona had gotten takeout? Oh well, it all worked out in the end.‘I think I can arrange something. Tony down at the Marinara Mariner owes me one.’

I could maybe get him to make a special twenty percent off coupon for the guests in exchange for making sure no one ever found out about him and Tina. Blackmail? Sure. But it was for a good cause.

‘And one more thing to make it irresistible,’ Ron said. ‘When you are spreading the rumor, make sure it is known that you will be out of town until the next morning, but the guesthouse will remain unlocked so that your guests can come and go after dinner.’

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘Good, maybe if you can get that rumor started tomorrow morning, we can have our killer in handcuffs by tomorrow night.’

‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘I know exactly where to start.’

Twenty

The next morning I was up with the gulls. Looking at them through the kitchen window, I wondered if they would stop dying off once Stella was in jail. There were only two over her deck now and I swear a month ago there would be six or seven in the morning.

Now what for breakfast? I wished I hadn’t spent so much time trying to come up with the best way to spread the rumor and sweet-talking Tony into getting me coupons last night. Mom and Millie had picked them up and were supposed to deliver them here any minute.

I was rummaging through the recipe file—still no sour cream coffee cake —when I heard a tap on the kitchen door.

Mom and Millie were outside with sneaky looks on their faces, glancing back behind them and whispering. I motioned for them to come in and the door squeaked as Millie opened it. I made a mental note to oil the hinges later on, or whatever one did for squeaky doors. I had enough going on right now.

Millie presented the special coupons from The Marinara Mariner.‘Tony made these up special, just like you asked him to.’

‘He was very nice to us.’ Mom leaned in and whispered. ‘Didn’t want us to tell his little secret.’

The cats trotted over and purred at Millie’s feet while she fed them some sort of fishy smelling treats. I didn’t have those types of treats here for them and I wondered if she’d been holding out on me and keeping the most savory treats for herself so she would still be their favorite.

Millie scowled at the stove, peeked in the oven and then turned her frown on me.‘You haven’t started breakfast yet?’

‘I was just trying to figure out what to cook.’

Millie glanced at her watch.‘It’s almost seven thirty, not much time to make something.’ She pressed her lips together and glanced at the pantry. ‘Hmm… I know. Do you have any breakfast ham?’

I glanced in the fridge. Two ham patties sat wrapped in their plastic covering.‘Yep.’

‘Good, then we’ll make Ham and Cheese Muffin Puffs. It will only take twenty minutes and the guests love them.’ Millie rushed into the pantry and grabbed the Bisquick. ‘Get out the ham and some eggs, milk, cheese and olive oil.’

I did as I was told and twenty minutes later the kitchen was filled with the smell of homemade biscuits. Millie pulled golden biscuits with pink dots of ham and gooey cheese out of the oven. I added a fruit bowl and milk and cereal and we headed to the dining room where the guests had already gathered.

Ron and Iona shot me a knowing look. Tina gave me a nervous glance. About the only one I didn’t have a secret with was Ava. She was looking around with a twinkle in her eye as if she was onto the fact that there were questionable goings on at the guesthouse.

‘I have a nice surprise for everyone,’ I announced, after I’d laid the food out and they were milling about the buffet table making their selections. I held up the coupons. ‘The Marinara Mariner has offered a wonderful 50 percent discount on dinner between 7 and 9 tonight for guests of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse only.’

‘The food there is wonderful,’ Ron said.

‘That’s a good deal,’ Iona added.

‘Marinara gives me heartburn.’ Ava squinted at the coupon.

‘I’ve never heard of the place, is it good?’ Tina’s demeanor dripped with faux innocence but her sideways glance told me that Tony had already alerted her to my blackmail demand.

‘Yes and since Josie has to go out of town tonight, it will be good for you all to have a night out. The guesthouse will be unlocked for you when you get back,’ Millie said.

Ava’s eyes narrowed. ‘So, would the last person in lock the front door, then?’

That stumped me.‘Err… that’s not necessary. It’s not like someone is going to break in and steal things. Very low crime here.’ Except for the recent murder. ‘And of course your individual rooms are locked, so no one can go in there.’

Ava studied me for a few beats then nodded.‘Okay then. Sounds good. I do have a hankering for garlic bread.’

With breakfast served and the dirty deed done, I headed back to the kitchen with Mom and Millie. I didn’t have time to waste. I had to get to the post office during peak gossip hours in time to let the news that the guesthouse would be empty and unlocked make its way to the killer.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

The post office was always the most crowded at 11 a.m., so I timed it to get there then. I wanted to maximize the amount of people who overheard me to ensure the rumor got spread around quickly. I knew that Stella liked to keep track of everything that went on around town, so I was positive it would get back to her.

‘Hey Josie,’ Jen looked over at me as she wrestled Priority Mail tape onto a ginormous package that little old gray-haired Lottie Cox had hefted onto the counter.

‘Hi Jen! I just stopped by to say goodbye before my trip tonight.’

‘You’re going on a trip?’

‘Just overnight. Be back in the morning.’

‘Umm… okay.’ She put the last of the tape on the package and punched something into the postal machine, then turned to Lottie ‘That will be $23.21.’

‘$23.31!’ Lottie clutched her purse against her chest. ‘Highway robbery!’

‘Sorry Lottie, but I don’t set the prices. I could send it regular mail?’

Lottie’s lips pursed. ‘How long would that take?’

Jen consulted the screen in front of her.‘Seven days.’

‘Forget it.’ Lottie creaked open her purse and counted out the money. ‘Darn government is getting greedy.’

While Jen completed the transaction, I continued,‘Yeah, so my guests are eating at the Mariner tonight. Tony has a special coupon just for the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. Isn’t that nice?’

Jen’s left brow quirked up at the mention of Tony. ‘All the guests?’

I hadn’t yet filled her in on the fact that I’d discovered the Weatherby’s true identity and our plan to dupe Stella into revealing herself as the killer. ‘Yep. And it’s a shame I have to go away too because I may have found an important clue as to the identity of the person who killed Charles Prescott.’

The hubbub of conversation among the post office customers stopped.

‘A clue? Like what?’ Jen asked.

‘I can’t really say, but the police are meeting me tomorrow morning to take it. I’d do it tonight but already had the plans to go away.’

‘Right. Plans. So, I guess the guesthouse will be empty?’ Jen said loudly. She’d been a quick study in high school and apparently that hadn’t changed. She must have caught on to my intentions.

‘Yep, exactly.’ I winked to thank her.

‘Did you have something to mail?’ She asked, because I was standing there holding up the line.

‘Huh? Oh no… Ummm… Just came to check my post office box. You know because I’m going out of town tonight.’ I made a big show of going over to the post office box. I tried to keep the smile off my face as I heard people mumbling about the big clue and the guesthouse, how I was going out oftown and how it wasn’t fair that Tony Murano had given a special coupon to only my guests.

The box was full of fliers, so I tugged them out and went over to dump them in the bin that the post office kept against the wall for such things. My way was blocked by Mike Sullivan. Arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. He looked suspicious. Probably that Navy investigator training.

‘What’s this about you going out of town, Sunshine? Aunt Millie didn’t mention that,’ he said.

‘I don’t usually apprise Millie of my itinerary and if I did, she wouldn’t tell you because it would be none of your business.’ I dumped the fliers in the bin and headed for the door.

He followed me, holding the door open as I swept out into the street.‘I think you’re bluffing. Tell me what you’re up to.’

I stopped on the sidewalk and looked back at him, using my most innocent expression.‘Honestly Mike I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Mew! Meow!

Nero and Marlowe appeared at my feet. How did they get into town so fast? They ran over to Mike, circling around his ankles and purring. He bent down to pet them.

‘Josie, I don’t mean to be nosey, but this could be dangerous.’ He stood, towering over me, which is no easy task because I’m five-foot-seven. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

Meroo!

Apparently Nero agreed with him.

‘Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.’ I turned to walk toward my car, but he latched onto my elbow, holding it gently but swinging me around to face him. My arm tingled, my heart fluttered, but my brain got annoyed with his insistence.

‘Josie, I think I know who the killer is. I was with Internal Affairs in the Navy and have experience with this sort of thing. Leave it to me.’ His face showed only concern, not ego or pushiness, but I wasn’t going to leave it to him. For one, I doubted he was going to nail his old high school sweetheart and for two it was important for me to prove that I could do this. Plus, I had it all planned out with the Weatherbys and what could possibly go wrong?

I extracted my elbow gently.‘I think I know who it is too and the wheels are already set in motion. And besides, I’m not stupid and I’m not a kid anymore. I think I can solve this without your help.’

Twenty-One

Despite the confidence I’d had about catching the killer when I’d talked to Mike outside the post office, I was jittery as a chihuahua in winter. I was half afraid he’d stick around the guesthouse, as I knew he suspected I was up to something. But he must have believed my story about going away. He finished up work and bid me farewell at four, asking about my flight. I told him I was taking a train just in case he had designs on checking up on me at the airport. I had a twinge of guilt as I watched him drive off. He’d acted a little cool all afternoon and I hoped I hadn’t been too harsh with him outside the post office.

At 6:30, Ron and Iona got the ball rolling by ushering everyone to the Marinara Mariner. Their plan was to get seated with all the others, then Ron would excuse himself to the bathroom and double back. He wanted to be here to make the arrest.

We figured the killer would come in the front door and head straight down the hall to the West wing. They wouldn’t try the window for fear it would be locked, and why bother when they knew the front door would be unlocked and no one home? I turned off the lights and Ron and I crouched in the pitch-black doorway to the butler’s pantry and waited.

At around 7:15, we heard a noise. Only problem was, it wasn’t at the front door.

‘That sounds like the kitchen,’ I whispered to Ron.

‘Why would someone come in the kitchen?’ Ron whispered back.

‘I have no idea.’ Mom and Millie knew about the plan so they wouldn’t be coming in that door. Flora had already left for the day and she never came back to the guesthouse after work. Could it be Mike? I knew he’d seen through my act at the post office but surely he wouldn’t ruin our plan.

Ron stood and the floor creaked.

‘Shhh…’

We froze, but the creak must not have bothered the intruder because the next thing we heard was the squeak of the hinges on the kitchen door opening. Good thing I hadn’t oiled them.

Ron tapped my arm and pointed to the kitchen, communicating that we should sneak over there quietly. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t have figured that one out on my own. One end of the butler’s pantry opened into the kitchen and we tiptoed through.

The kitchen was dark, but I could make out a form bending over the counter. By the size, shape and cloying smell of floral-scented perfume wafting over, I could tell it was Stella.

Ithad been her all along! But why was she standing at the kitchen counter? It looked like she was going through the recipes. Had she hidden something in the recipe box or cookbook? The rest of the note they’d found in Charles’ room? Or maybe she wanted to swipe a recipe before heading into the West wing to look for the fake evidence I’d found. Either way she wasn’t going to complete her mission.

I flicked on the light switch and jumped into the room.‘Aha!’

‘We caught you red-handed!’ Ron chimed in.

Stella whirled around, squinting into the light. Her hands flew out, palms up in front of her. She dropped the paper she was holding and it floated down to the floor.

‘What is that?’ I pointed to the paper. ‘Part of the note Charles left?’

‘A confession maybe,’ Ron said. Did he have to add something every time I spoke?

‘Hardly.’ Stella put her hands down and glared at us.

‘Fine.’ Ron whipped out his badge, the gold shield glinting in the light as he thrust it out toward her. ‘I’ll be calling the police then and they’ll get a confession from you.’

‘For what?’ Stella crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I hardly think the police will care that I came to borrow a recipe.’

I glanced at the floor. Yep. Looked like a recipe.

‘Not for that,’ Ron said. ‘For poisoning gulls and killing Charles Prescott.’

‘What? I never killed anyone! Or poisoned anyone for that matter. Except that time Mr. Dudley got sick from my cream puffs but that was unintentional.’

‘Of course you did. He found out you were poisoning the gulls and threatened to blackmail you, so you had to kill him,’ I said.

Mew.

That sounded like Nero out in the parlor. Not sure what he was meowing about but apparently he hadn’t figured out that all the action was going on here in the kitchen.

Stella made a face.‘I’m not poisoning the gulls. Who told you that?’

‘No one told me. It’s as plain as day that they are affecting your business.’ I gestured in the direction of her inn.

Meow.

Was that Marlowe? It sounded like she was near the front stairway.

‘They are not. I admit it’s hard to keep up with cleaning the gull poop off the deck, but tourists love to go and feed the gulls. In fact, I have special ‘gull food’ canisters now that I sell them specifically for feeding the birds.’ Stella shrugged at our disbelieving looks. ‘It’s just stale bread but hey, if life gives you lemons you make lemonade.’

I glanced at Ron. He was stroking his chin and studying Stella.‘Then why did you break in here tonight if not to get the evidence before it was given to the police?’

Stella sighed and pointed at the scrap of paper on the floor.‘Okay, I admit it. I wasn’t borrowing a recipe. I was returning one.’

‘Returning?’ I bent down to pick the paper up.

‘Yes, it’s Millie’s sour cream coffee cake recipe. It’s really delicious, so I stole it to make for the cooking contest. I wanted to sneak in and return it sooner but after you came over and started asking all the questions about why I was hanging around the Guesthouse, I didn’t dare. So when I heard you wouldn’t be here and the place would be unlocked, I figured it was a perfect time to return it.’

I stared at the paper in my hand. Handwritten on a blue lined index card and smudged with an old butter stain was Millie’s distinctive handwriting in a faded blue pen. It was the missing Sour Cream Coffee Cake recipe. Had Stella really broken in just to return it or was this some clever trick to use as an excuse to be here because she really was breaking in to get the trumped-up evidence?

‘But it has to be you,’ I said.

Meroo!

That one came from the hallway, probably the cats were just figuring out we had the killer cornered in the kitchen. But now, looking at the recipe I had to wonder if we’d made a mistake.

‘Why does it have to be me? I’m not the only one who could poison the gulls. Why don’t you ask Barbara Littlefield? She’s the one who was conspiring with Charles up on the cliff.’

Now I knew she was lying.‘But Barbara said she never met Charles and she—’

A gruff voice in the doorway cut off my words.‘That’s right. I said what I had to say to stop you from nosing around.’

We turned in the direction of the voice to see Barbara Littlefield standing in the doorway with a gun pointed directly at us.

Twenty-Two

I’d been so focused on getting Stella to confess that I never heard Barbara coming in.

Meow!

Nero and Marlowe appeared behind her, blinking at me as if I was the dumbest human on earth. I guess that’s what they’d been meowing about. They’d been trying to warn me.

‘Aren’t you the building inspector?’ Ron asked.

‘Yeah, what of it?’ Barbara glared at him.

‘What do you have to do with all this?’ Ron looked genuinely perplexed and for good reason. Why would Barbara kill Charles? Was she the one poisoning the gulls? Even Stella seemed confused as she glanced from the small silver gun Barbara was waving around to Ron to me.

‘Did you know Charles from before?’ I asked. Maybe she had a grudge? Maybe she’d been one of the many he’d had an affair with and was out for revenge.

‘No. That dimwit thought he could outsmart me though. Ha!’ Barbara jerked the gun toward the door to the basement. ‘Now all three of you shuffle over toward the cellar nice and slow.’

I glanced at the door and shivered. I’d only been down in the basement once and that was plenty for me. It was an old house and the basement was dark, dank and full of spiders the size of kittens.

Meow.

Nero rubbed up against Barbara’s ankle.

She shook her foot to push him away.

‘Get lost, Kitty.’ Her face twisted even more. ‘I thought I told you not to have cats in the kitchen. It’s a code violation. I’d write you up, but after I burn the place you won’t even have a kitchen.’

‘But why would Charles blackmail you?’ Ron asked.

Barbara gestured with the gun again and we all shuffled a bit closer to the door.‘He shouldn’t have been up on the cliff. I mean what kind of a stupid cookbook uses flockenberries? They don’t taste that good, you know.’

‘The gulls seem to like them,’ Stella said.

‘Yeah. Unfortunately. That’s how he found out.’ Barbara gestured with the gun again and we moved another half inch.

Meow!

Marlowe scratched Barbara’s ankle.

Barbara lashed out with her foot. Luckily, she missed the cat. Unluckily she kept her grip on the gun and her eyes on us. I had to wonder if the cats were trying to distract her.

‘Found out about what?’ I prompted. Maybe if she got talkative one of the others would come back and save us.

A sly look came over Barbara’s face. ‘About what I was doing to the flockenberries. Someone had to get rid of those nuisance berry plants. Still hadn’t perfected the poison though, I had a few experiments going on.’

I remembered the dead plants in her office. Had she been experimenting on those?

‘So you poisoned the berries to get rid of the gulls?’ Ron asked.

‘No. Not the gulls, but hey, theyare a nuisance. Town should thank me. I was trying to save the lousewort from getting choked out. If the lousewort dies the cliff will no longer be protected and next thing you know a big giant hotel will be looming over us ruining the quaint ambiance of the town.’

‘That’s preposterous,’ Ron said. ‘Those lousewort plants must have been there for generations.’

Merooo!

Marlowe wound around Barbara’s feet and she glanced down annoyed but then looked right back up at us. Guess she didn’t want to be distracted too long for fear one of us would lunge for the gun which, of course, had been exactly my plan.

‘That’s where you’re wrong. That lousewort was never here. I imported it and planted it to stop the hotel from being built. Cost me a pretty penny and was a lot of work keeping it thriving. And you people,’ Barbara waved the gun at me and Stella as we jumped back. ‘Don’t even appreciatemy efforts! Now where would the town be if I hadn’t done that!’

I remembered Jen had mentioned that Barbara got dirty packages. Had it been the lousewort? Where had she imported it from? I knew it was protected here in New England, but thought I’d heard my mother mention something about it growing like a weed in some other country. Maybe she’d sent away for it and no wonder she’d had to spend so much time ‘mothering’ it, the cliff wasn’t its natural habitat and it needed extra care.

But none of that mattered now. The only thing that did was making sure we did not get forced down into that basement.

Barbara smiled, but it wasn’t a warm and fuzzy smile, it was cold and calculating mixed with a bit of pride. She shoved the gun forward. ‘To the basement door!’

We shuffled over more. Now we were right next to the door. Time was running out. I glanced at my watch.

Barbara laughed.‘Hoping someone will come back early from dinner? Hardly. It’s only eight o’clock and your guests will be at the Marinara Mariner for another hour at least. Guess your little plan to lure the killer here didn’t work out so well after all.’

‘Well, it did lure the killer here…’ Even facing death, I felt defensive of my plan.

‘Yeah, but it gave me an even better idea. Now that I have to get rid of you and the evidence, a nice fire will do the trick!’

My gut clenched. She was planning to shove us in the basement and set the place on fire. My mind raced. I had to do something to stop her. I glanced around for a weapon, but only saw bowls, dish towels and canisters.

Barbara moved forward, stepping on Nero’s tail and earning a screech and hiss from him. ‘Open the basement door and shove those cats down there first.’

Nero looked up at Barbara and wrinkled his nose, then glanced at me.

My heart clenched at the thought of the cats burning in a fire. At least maybe I could save them.‘Not the cats. Let them go, they’re innocent.’

‘Yeah,’ Stella agree. ‘Killing us is one thing but not innocent kitties.’

I glanced at Stella. She actually had a heart?

If the cats could understand Barbara, they were being awfully calm about their fate. Marlowe stretched and Nero trotted over to the cellar door. He glanced up at me and then at the doorknob. Suddenly I got an idea.

‘Ok. I see we have no choice but to go down there. Stand back though. The door sticks and I need some room.’ Stella and Ron stood back and I grabbed the knob.

The cats sat to attention, eyes on Barbara, tails swishing on the floor.

I planted my feet and tugged. I twisted the knob. I made a show of trying to open the door holding my breath and letting my face turn red. I glanced at Barbara.‘It won’t open.’

Barbara rolled her eyes.‘Figures. This old place isn’t even worth fixing up. Good thing I wrote all those violations. I’m doing the town a favor by burning it down.’ She stomped over to the door. ‘Let me try. You’re wimpy.’

But just as she reached me, I whipped the door open. The movement surprised her and she teetered at the opening. Marlowe and Nero sprang into action. Weaving around her feet. I gave her one hard shove.

She stumbled forward, tripping over the cats and losing her grip on the gun.

The gun clattered to the floor.

And then, as she was teetering at the top of the stairs, Stella gave her one last push and she fell down into the dark hole of the basement.

‘I’ll get you for this!’ Her words were punctuated by Ouch! And Dang! As she hit each stair going down.

Ron dove for the gun and I slammed the door shut just as the kitchen door burst open and Mike and Sheriff Chamberlain ran in.

They skidded to a stop, taking in the three of us standing there and the two cats planted firmly in front of the door, calmly licking their paws and washing behind their ears as a fresh string of curses drifted up from the basement.

Sherrif Chamberlain’s eyes were wide, his gun held straight out in front of him. He glanced at Mike. ‘Well? Which one of them is the killer?’

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Seth Chamberlain hauled Barbara out of the cellar, slapped the cuffs on her and shoved her in the squad car with the energy of an eager rookie. We were standing in the driveway, the cats preening around us as if they’d been the ones to capture the killer. Inside the car, Barbara pounded on the window.

‘You let me out of here Seth Chamberlain. I’ve done a lot for this town and don’t you forget it!’

We moved away from the car so we couldn’t hear her.

‘Sorry for acting like I suspected you, Josie,’ Seth said as he fished some cat treats out of his pocket and flipped them to Nero and Marlowe.

‘What do you meanacting?’ I asked.

Seth smiled and for a second I could see what Millie saw in him. Even though he had to be in his late seventies, the dimpled smile and intelligent twinkle in his eye gave him a boyish charm.‘Heck, I knew it wasn’t you all along. That was just an act. I would have arrested you if I had really thought it was you seeing as there was evidence pointing in your direction. I didn’t want the real killer to know I was on to them until I got solid evidence.’ He glanced uneasily at Ron and Stella.

I sensed that Seth was telling the truth about not suspecting me, but I doubted he’d known who the real killer was. More likely he’d suspected Ron or Stella just as I had. After all, he had asked Mike which one the killer was when they came bursting in. At least he’d ruled me out early on.

Speaking of Mike, he’d been fussing around me ever since they’d arrived and I wished he’d stop.

‘I knew you were up to something when I ran into you in the post office,’ he said. ‘I figured you were luring the killer in with that trumped-up story and it was a good ploy. I just wish I’d gotten here sooner. It took me a while to explain it to Seth and get him moving.’

‘My gut instincts were spot on, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me so I had to do something to flush the killer out.’ I didn’t mention I had actually thought it was Stella.

He stepped closer and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. Stella scowled at us.

‘You could have been hurt. I wouldn’t have liked that very much,’ he said softly.

Yeah, me either.‘Why not?’

‘Well, for one your brother would kill me and for two…’ He hesitated then shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back. ‘I’m kind of getting used to you being back in town.’

‘Thanks.’ For once I was at a loss for words. I felt like something had happened between us. Not sure what, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It was just too soon. For a second I regretted hiring Ed O’Hara to do the rest of the renovations so I wouldn’t have to keep Mike on. I was going to miss having Mike at the guesthouse. It was probably for the best though, I still needed to prove that I could be good on my own before I was ready to add another person to the mix. Plus, Ed charged a lot less.

Millie’s 1970s Dodge Dart careened into the driveway and Mom and Millie spilled out, cell phones in hand.

‘Did we miss it?’ Millie asked.

‘The police scanner app never went off!’ Mom scowled at her phone.

Seth walked over and gave them a stern look.‘We didn’t put in a call this time. Now you ladies can’t be using some app to go to all the crime scenes, it’s dangerous.’

Millie drew herself to her full height.‘Why Seth Chamberlain, you know darn well that without us, most of the crimes in this town would go unsolved. Besides, the crimes scenes are not dangerous because the crime has already been committed.’

‘That’s right,’ Mom chimed in. ‘And crimes scenes are swarming with police, therefore very safe.’

Seth closed his eyes and I pictured that he was mentally counting to ten. I couldn’t blame him, I’d had to do that myself a few times when dealing with Mom and Millie. Then he smiled at Millie. ‘It’s true that you help immensely, but I would appreciate it if you don’t broadcast that all over town. I have a reputation to protect.’

Mom and Millie looked contrite.‘Of course, sorry.’ Millie patted his arm. ‘There will be an extra dozen chocolate chip cookies for you this weekend.’

Seth’s smile widened and he covered her hand with his.

Millie grinned up at him, batted her eyes a few times and then slid her hand out from under his and tore away.‘I’m glad you understand, but now we have to go get the scoop from Josie!’

They scurried to my side. Mike was still standing there and Mom beamed at him.‘I see you’re watching out for my girl.’

Mike smiled.‘Can’t let anything happen to her.’

I bristled.‘I’m a grown woman and don’t need anyone to watch over me.’

‘Never mind that,’ Millie said. ‘Tell us all about it! How did the killer end up being Barbara? I thought it was Stella!’

By the time I was done telling them what had happened, the other guests were pulling into the driveway. Iona rushed to Ron to get the lowdown from him, and they beckoned Tina to join them, which she did reluctantly.

Mike had drifted off and was chatting with Stella. I didn’t really mind – I mean, he was free to talk to whoever he wanted, but for some annoying reason I kept glancing in their direction as if I cared. A few times I caught Mike’s eye. He had a smug expression every time he caught me looking, which I ignored.

Ava strode over to us, nodding her head as if she’d known what was unfolding the whole time. ‘Well, things sure are interesting at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse.’

‘Never a dull moment,’ Millie said.

‘I knew something was going on,’ Ava said. ‘It’s good to know my reporter’s instincts are still working. Too bad people don’t give a monkey’s banana about society happenings anymore. It’s okay though, I have something better in mind.’

Ava walked off with a satisfied look on her face and I got a little worried.

‘I hope she’s not going to write some sensational newspaper article about this,’ I said to Millie.

Millie’s brows drew together. ‘Me too. Then again, maybe it would bring in business. You know how morbid people are.’

‘Hmm… you have a point.’

‘Never mind that,’ Mom tugged on my arm. ‘Mike’s leaving. You’re not going to let him get away, are you?’

I glanced over at his car, half expecting to see Stella inside, but she wasn’t. ‘Yes, I think I am.’

‘Are you sure? Could be your last chance to get him to ask you out on a date,’ Mom said. ‘Millie said he finished up the last task on his list today.’

‘I’m not in the market for a date,’ I said. ‘Besides, it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t hang around here too much. The way he calls me Sunshine is annoying.’

As I watched his truck turn onto the road, I felt a little tug of regret. Now that he wouldn’t be working at the guesthouse, I probably wouldn’t see him much, but surely that was for the best?

Meow!

Meroo!

Nero and Marlowe joined our circle and Millie and Mom bent down to scratch their ears. The two cats strutted around, tails in the air and heads held high.

‘Sheesh, by the way they’re acting, you’d think they’d caught the killer,’ Mom said.

‘They sure do look proud of something,’ Millie glanced up at me, her brows raised in a question.

I looked down at the two cats. They met my gaze with intelligent, luminescent eyes.‘Funny you say that. I think they did actually help out. It was due to them getting underfoot, that I was able to push Barbara into the basement.’

Millie looked adoringly at the cats, a proud smile on her face.‘Well then, I say they are certainly taking good care of the guesthouse and their new human. What do you say, Josie?’

‘I agree, in fact I’m getting used to their company. I can’t imagine the guesthouse without them.’

Meow!

Meress!

Twenty-Three

‘I’m so proud that you caught a killer all by yourself while running a new business, Mom.’ Emma’s voice gushed over the phone, swelling my heart with pride. ‘But it sounds like that could have been dangerous.’

‘Not at all, Sheriff Chamberlain was right outside the door.’ I made it sound like I’d arranged for the sheriff to step in so Emma would think I was never in danger.

‘Even so, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,’ Emma said.

‘You don’t need you to worry about me. I’m sure nothing like that will happen again. I mean, what are the odds?’

Emma laughed.‘Good point. I gotta run. You take care. Love you, Mom.’

‘Love you too.’ I barely got the words out before she disconnected. Kids these days, always running off. Truth was, I’d wanted to give her the same heartfelt warning about her job at the FBI. I took some comfort in the fact that she was an analyst and not in the field, but still, a mother never stops worrying. Unless maybe you were talking aboutmy mother. She seemed to thrive on danger and it didn’t seem to matter which one of us was in it.

It was one week after Barbara’s arrest and Millie, Mom and I sat in the kitchen at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse.

Steam wafted up from mugs of coffee that sat beside warm pieces of sugary sour cream coffee cake on the table in front of us. Nero and Marlowe were there too, of course. They’d been treated like royalty all week and were now lapping up the last of a small bit of cream I’d given them as a treat.

‘At least Stella Dumont did the right thing and decided not to use my coffee cake recipe for the contest.’ Millie forked up a piece of the crumbly top.

‘That would have been cheating,’ My mother said. ‘What’s she using instead?’

‘Her Aunt Sally’s fruitcake, I think.’ Millie said.

Mom laughed.‘I doubt that will win any prizes.’

I relaxed back in my chair. Honestly, I hadn’t been worried about Stella wining that contest and getting one-up on me anyway. Not much. I was sure my baking would improve over time. Besides, considering how often Millie popped in to help make the breakfasts, I was sure the Oyster Cove Guesthouse would be able to keep its reputation for good eats. ‘It’s nice not have guests to tend to.’

Ava had left two days earlier for a cruise to the Caribbean. The Weatherbys had gone off on a top-secret mission to Antarctica the day after Barbara was arrested and Tina had broken off her affair with Tony and gone back home on Tuesday. I was glad their affair was over, I liked the chicken parmesan at the Marinara Mariner and didn’t want the restaurant to close down if Tony and the Mrs. got divorced.

‘I think things went very well for your first round of guests.’ Millie pressed her index finger to the plate to pick up the last sweet crumbs from the coffee cake, licked them off and then pushed up from the table and headed to the cabinets where she started to assemble bowls, whisks and measuring utensils. Apparently she was going to do some baking. I knew the kitchens were small over at the retirement village, but honestly, if she was going to just keep coming here to bake she might as well make the breakfasts all the time.

At my skeptical look, my mother added.‘Well, there was that little hiccup of a murder, but you handled it very well, dear.’ Mom patted my arm.

‘And caught the killer!’ Millie added.

Meow!

Meroo?

‘Yes, we know you guys helped too,’ Millie said to Nero and Marlowe who appeared offended at the lack of credit. They twitched their whiskers and sauntered off toward the hallway, apparently appeased by Millie’s praise.

‘Who would have figured it was Barbara?’ Mom said. ‘I mean, I knew she was went overboard tending to the lousewort but I never thought she’d planted it herself. I would have suspected Ava before Barbara, but I was hoping it was Stella.’

‘Me too,’ I said.

Millie turned around to look at us.‘Ava? Why would you suspect her?’

‘She knew Charles from before, she was the one who told us about Tina, she was here at the guesthouse… it sort of seemed like she turned up everywhere,’ I said. ‘I just hope she isn’t going to do some big column in the paper about it. It sounded like she needed something exciting to bringin readers.’

‘Don’t worry, she isn’t writing a column.’ Millie glanced out into the hallway to make sure we couldn’t be overheard. By whom I had no idea. We were the only ones in the guesthouse. ‘She’s writing a book about it.’

‘Oh.’ Was that better than a column? Probably. Maybe they’d make it into a movie and people would flock here to see where it happened.

‘I’m just glad all’s well that ends well,’ Mom said. ‘Barbara would have done anything to protect herself, so it’s a good thing you guys were able to outwit her.’

‘I can’t believe she would have burned down the guesthouse,’ Millie shuddered as she cracked eggs into a bowl.

‘Yeah that could have been a problem, especially with the town’s 250th celebration and all the descendants of Jedediah Biddeford coming to stay here in two weeks.’ Though the guesthouse had been added to over the years, it had started out as a smaller mansion way before Millie’s people evenowned it. The main part of the mansion that was now the West wing had been originally built by Jedediah Biddeford, and seeing as he’d lived here 250 years ago, apparently his descendants felt the town celebration was a great time to have a family reunion right in the house that started it all.

A family reunion was nice and all, but I was really thrilled because all five of the rooms which had been renovated to this point had been booked by Biddefords. If only I’d kept Mike on, I might have been able to squeak out a few more rooms, but it was just as well that he wouldn’t be around. I was getting too comfortable with him. And while Ed O’Hara was a bit slow, he did good work and I was happy to supplement his Social Security income.

‘That’s probably only because of the curse,’ Millie said as she whisked something together in a stainless-steel bowl.

‘Curse?’ The familiar baritone came from the doorway. I hoped I was hearing things. I scrunched my eyes shut and turned in that direction, opening one eye slowly. Mike Sullivan lounged against the doorframe. Who had invitedhim? To be even more annoying, he winked at me.‘Hey Sunshine, how’s our little detective?’

‘I thought you were done with your work here.’ I said.

‘I am.’ Mike pushed off the frame and strode over to Millie, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Aunt Millie invited me over for cookies.’

‘I’m just getting ready to put them in the oven now.’ She scooped big dollops of batter out of the bowl with a tablespoon and plunked them on a cookie sheet.

‘Forget about the cookies, what’s this about a curse?’ Mom asked.

Millie waved her hand in the air dismissively, keeping her back to us as she continued dropping cookie dough onto the sheets.‘Oh, just some old curse where Jedediah claimed he was coming back at the town’s 250th to deal with anyone who dared plunder his treasure.’

‘Treasure?’ Moms eyes lit up like a slot machine on tilt. ‘I never heard anything about a treasure.’

Millie opened the oven and shoved the cookie sheets in.‘My grandmother told me about it when I was a little girl. Apparently, it was told to her grandfather when they bought the place. But there’s no treasure. Jedediah was sailing to the West Indies and figured he’d come back with treasure, but he never made it back to the country.’

‘Why not?’ Mike asked.

Millie shrugged.‘How should I know? Died over there. Plague or something.’

‘So why have a curse then?’ I asked.

‘Sounds like he was overly dramatic. Probably setting the stage, getting everyone scared for when he did bring back the treasure so no one dared mess with it. You know how superstitious people were back then.’ Millie put the dirty dishes in the sink and started running the water.

Merooo!

The cat’s hollow cry came from deep inside the mansion. It was kind of eerie and reminded me of the way they’d sounded the morning we’d found Charles Prescott’s body. Must be a strange echo coming from that room…

‘But there could still be a treasure,’ Mom said hopefully. I could already tell she was dreaming of treasure maps and x-marks-the-spot. Probably already planning her trip to Ace Hardware to buy a shovel.

Millie turned around, her hands on her hips.‘Really, Rose. If there were a treasure don’t you think someone would have found it by now?’

Mom looked disappointed.‘I suppose.’

Mereech!

This time everyone looked in the direction of the cry.

‘Is that Marlowe?’ Millie cocked her head to the side. ‘I hope she’s not hurt.’

‘I’ll go see,’ Mike said.

‘Me too.’ If something was going on in the guesthouse, I certainly didn’t want Mike one-upping me like he’d tried to do with the Prescott investigation.

I followed Mike into the hall to the sounds of another loud cry from the cats.

‘Sounds like it’s coming from the West wing near where we found Charles Prescott,’ Mike said.

‘Lucky thing there can’t be another dead body in there now, no one else is in the guesthouse.’ I didn’t feel as confident about that as I sounded.

Mike scowled as he tried to open the door that separated the main house from the West wing.‘It’s locked. That’s good. You’re supposed to keep it shut, especially if you have new guests in here.’

Okay, now I remembered why I had hired Ed in his place. Mike was kind of bossy. I didn’t need that. ‘Yeah, I know. You sound like Barbara.’

I ducked into the pantry and retrieved the ring with the spare sets of keys to unlock the various doors that didn’t go to the guests’ rooms. I kept the keys to the guest room in a more secure place.

Meroow!

Mike frowned at the keys jangling in my hand.‘Are those keys easily accessible to anyone?’

I paused before opening the door, my annoyance with Mike overshadowing my worry about the cats.‘What’s it to you?’

He smiled, a twinkle in his eye that I did not like.‘Oh, it’s very important to me.

What was that supposed to mean?

Meoooo!

‘That sounds bad,’ Mike’s face creased with worry. ‘We better get in there.’

I pushed the door open, my stomach tightening as I glanced over at the stairs. No dead body. I felt silly. Of course, there wouldn’t be.

Meroop.

The sound came from the next room.

‘I think they’re over here.’ Mike headed toward the sound. I gave one last glance at the place where Charles had been found. Ed had been starting to work on this part of the guesthouse and the fallen banister and wooden debris had been cleaned up. There was no sign that a man had died there just over a week ago. Good, I was glad to put that whole incident behind me.

Meroeeow!

Never mind that the cats’ cries sounded eerily similar to the tone and insistency they’d had when they’d alerted me to Charles’ body. I was more worried about what Mike had just said. Why would anything at the Guesthouse be important to him? If he thought he was going to make it a habit to pop over all the time I’d have to set him straight.

I followed him to the room. Millie had said that it had once been a small ballroom. Remnants of black and white marble tile dotted the floor, water-stained floral wallpaper peeled from the walls, and the ceiling still had chunks of plaster medallions that once surrounded grand chandeliers. I wasn’t going to restore it to a ballroom, as there was little interest in balls these days. My plan was to make it into a game room. Judging by the clouds of dust in the air, the cobwebs in the corners and the smell of decades’ old dry wood, that was going to take a lot of work.

Mew!

Nero and Marlowe were at the far wall. Thankfully they seemed unharmed and I wondered if all the incessant meowing was simply because they were admiring themselves in the few shards left of the wall-length mirror that still clung to the wall. Right now it reflected the dilapidated room, but I imagined guests in ball gowns and elbow length gloves waltzing around on the dance floor, their images reflected in the gigantic mirror, making the room look twice as large and the crowd twice as big.

‘This place is in bad shape.’ Mike stood in the middle of the room surveying its entirety. I doubted he was picturing ballroom dancers. He might have been picturing a ball, but it was probably more like a wrecking ball.

Meow! Nero’s cry was insistent, as if we weren’t paying enough attention.

‘It looks like they’re fine,’ I said. Though I didn’t like the way Marlowe was scratching at the wall and then looking back at me. It was almost the same way she’d looked back at me when we’d discovered Charles. But that was crazy, there was clearly no dead body in this room.

‘You’ll need to make sure you shore up these joists before you do any work here. This room is big and that’s a load bearing wall over there. You’ll want to submit plans and get the proper inspections before you mess around with it,’ Mike said.

Now he was really starting to bug me.‘I think I can handle it and Ed knows what he’s doing. Besides the renovations here aren’t your business anymore and I sincerely doubt you’ll be coming around much anyway, right?’ Maybe I sounded a little too hopeful with that last part because Mike’s eyes darkened with disappointment for a second before returning to their devilish twinkle.

‘Sorry, Sunshine, that’s where you’re wrong.’

Somehow those six little words were more disturbing than the prospect of the cats finding another dead body inside the guesthouse.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked cautiously.

Mike’s smile widened. ‘Haven’t you heard? What goes on here is going to be very much my business from here on out. I’m taking over as building inspector, at least until they find someone else to take Barbara’s place. So, you see, I’ll be coming around here a lot more –especially considering all the work you have going on and the decrepit state of this part of the mansion. Why, you might even see me more than you did when I worked here.’

Nero’s despairing cry echoed my thoughts. I gaped at Mike, remembering how Barbara would just waltz in unannounced all the time. Was he planning to do the same?

But Mike was no longer paying attention to me. He was over near the cats, bent down petting them. They butted their furry heads against his hand and purred. Clearlythey wouldn’t mind him coming around all the time. Traitors.

‘What have you got here?’ Mike bent closer to the wall where the cats had been pawing and scratching. He poked at it with his finger, sniffed, then looked up at me. ‘Looks like you might have a problem with rot here, maybe even mold.’

Perfect.‘I’m sure Ed will address it when he gets to this part. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we follow proper inspection procedures.’

Meow!Nero clawed at the wall.

Meroo!Marlowe butted his head against it.

‘Yes, I heard him, Marlowe. The wall needs attention. Don’t worry I’ll see to it that everything gets fixed properly.’ I didn’t relish the idea of Mike hanging around inspecting all the renovations, but I was glad that the cats weren’t hurt and all they were crying about was some rottedboards. After all, I’d dealt with a dead body here at the guesthouse, how hard could it be to tackle a little bit of rot and mold?

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Nero rolled his eyes and scratched at the wall again. Josie just wasn’t getting it. And here he’d thought she was starting to clue in to their attempts at communication.

‘I don’t think she’s on the same page as us,’ Marlowe purred as Mike scratched the top of her head.

‘No kidding. She’s no Millie, that’s for sure.’ Nero’s whiskers twitched and he held back a sneeze. The moldy smell emitting from the wall was ten times stronger than it was to the humans due to his highly developed senses. And, he was incredibly allergic to mold. But the mold and rot weren’t the only scents coming from the wall, not that Josie was noticing. She was too busy pretending not to act nonchalant around Mike.

‘Ahh Millie. I wish she hadn’t left the guesthouse to us. It’s such a huge responsibility.’ Marlowe licked his paw and pushed it behind her ear. ‘But at least we redeemed ourselves for not preventing Charles Prescott’s murder.’ Marlowe glanced at Nero out of the corner of her eye hopefully.

‘Indeed. I do think we did. We led Josie to many of the clues and if not for our fancy footwork Barbara might not have been safely dispatched into the cellar where she could do no harm.’

‘Not that we got a lot of credit for either of those things.’ Marlowe stretched against the wall, running her front claws down it, creating an annoying sound.

‘Ahh, but that is for the best. Their fragile egos couldn’t take it if they knew most of the detecting was done by us and our feline friends.’ Nero glanced up at Josie. She wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to them or to the wall or the scratches Marlowe had just made in the remnantsof wallpaper left on it. She was busy scowling at Mike. Judging by the snatches of conversation, they were arguing about how often Mike, as the building inspector, could come by unannounced. Nero didn’t see what the problem was. Mike gave good belly rubs and always treated the cats kindly. Maybe Josie should let him give her a belly rub and she’d be more accommodating to his visits?

‘I suppose you are right. They are a strange breed, but we need to keep them happy, otherwise who will buy the treats and gravy-laden cat food from the store for us?’ Marlowe said.

‘Exactly. Make them think they are the brains of the operation.’ Nero smiled at the younger cat. She was coming along splendidly and Nero was pleased with the way she’d caught on to some of the clues in the investigation. It would be a long time before she was as good as Nero himself was, butshe was showing promise. At least Marlowe was trainable. Josie on the other hand… well, Nero was a little worried about whether or not she would ever come up to speed.

The two humans left the room, still arguing, and Nero waited a few beats so they wouldn’t think he was trotting after them obediently or anything – that type of behavior was for dogs.

‘Well, we’ve done our best to alert Josie,’ Nero said after he heard the lock on the door click shut. It didn’t bother him that they were locked into the West wing. He knew dozens of secret exits and entrances into many of the rooms in the mansion. ‘Let’s go see if Millie is still in the kitchen and try to finagle some of those bacon-flavored cat treats while we contemplate how to better communicate with our resident human.’

‘Good idea,’ Marlowe trotted along after him. ‘But I hope Josie starts catching on a little quicker, because if she doesn’t, she may be in for a big surprise when Ed really gets going on that room renovation.’

2. A WHISKER IN THE DARK

One

I’m fairly certain that having a guest die before breakfast is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Even so, I was feeling a bit nervous as the guests at my newly acquired Oyster Cove Guesthouse dug in. Never mind that the memory of how a previous breakfast had been spoiled in a most alarming manner was still fresh in my mind, the reason I was nervous aboutthis breakfast was that I was trying out a new pumpkin-bread recipe on my guests and, seeing as my culinary skills were meager at best, I was worried they might not like it.

My worries were not unfounded. Though the guests had filled their plates, the brown loaf sat on the antique mahogany serving table, alone and uncut, shoved to the side like an overweight schoolboy on the playground. It was probably because of the dark edges. Admittedly, I’d left it in the oven a bit too long. Who knew that baking had to be that precise? But it was important I get this right. Millie Sullivan, my mother’s best friend and the guesthouse’s previous owner, had stressed the fact that having a winning loaf cake to serve at the town’s 250-year celebration would be vital to the future of the guesthouse. And, since all my retirement savings were tied up in the purchase of the place, I very much wanted it to have a good future.

I eyed the room with satisfaction. It was the lavish dining room of the grand old mansion that was now a bed and breakfast, boasting a twelve-foot ceiling, ornate green-and-gold wallpaper and a gigantic green oriental rug. Ten-foot-tall Palladian windows with a coveted view of the sparkling Atlantic Ocean ringed the far wall. They were open, causing the sheers lining the inside of the gold-and-green silk drapes to flutter from a cooling, salty sea breeze.

On the buffet, eggs steamed in a warming tray, toast glistened with melted butter, bacon practically sizzled on its platter and pancakes dripped with maple syrup. But, more importantly, all the guests were accounted for, so there would be no chance of discovering that one of them had met their maker in a most unsavory manner inside my establishment. It wasn’t so much the welfare of the guests themselves I was worried about, more that I didn’t want to get a reputation for being a place where people only checked out in a body bag.

It was a positive sign that the two resident cats, Nero and Marlowe, weren’t wailing like they’d done a few weeks ago to announce said dead body. In fact, it was relatively quiet, the only sounds the faint cry of gulls drifting in through the window and the far-off sounds of hammering from my carpenter, Ed O’Hara, as he worked to renovate one of the dilapidated sections of the mansion.

I had nothing to worry about other than that no one seemed to want my pumpkin bread. Unless it was the concern that a brawl might break out amongst the guests. I should have known it could be troublesome to rent all the rooms to one peculiar family—especially one that was in business together. Making cheese sculptures. Yes, you heard me. The Biddefords had a cheese-sculpture business. You’d wonder how that would sustain a whole family, but apparently cheese sculptures were quite popular for parties. I mean, who didn’t want a swan carved from a block of Swiss or a rendition of Michelangelo’s David chiseled from Muenster on their dining table?

I hadn’t known they were peculiar when they checked in. I thought it was kind of cute that the descendants of the shipping magnate who had built the mansion wanted to stay in it for the town’s 250-year celebration. Jedediah Biddeford had been an important figure in town back then, and even though ownership of the mansion had passed out of the Biddeford family a couple hundred years ago, I guess they still felt a kinship with it.

How was I supposed to know that every member of the family seemed to have a grudge against the next? From what I could gather—not that I was eavesdropping or anything but sometimes one overhears things by accident—their animosity was a combination of sibling rivalry and jockeying for position in the company. It was all nice-nice on the surface, but I could feel the tensions boiling underneath.

The family had requested that I push the individual tables for four that dotted the antique room together to form one long table. Seemed like a good idea to me since there were no guests other than Biddefords. So there they sat, plates loaded with the sumptuous breakfast for which the guesthouse was known. All homemade, of course, except the pancakes. I confess I made those from a mix.

Doris Biddeford, the matriarch, sat at the head, a look of disapproval on her face as she surveyed her children. She had to be eighty if she was a day. The“children” were in their fifties and I couldn’t really say I blamed Doris for scowling. Her kids left a bit to be desired.

Doris’s critical gaze zoned in on one of her daughters, Paula. Paula was in her mid-fifties but had the look of someone who’d had more than their share of late nights. Not surprising though—I could tell Paula liked to imbibe. In fact, as I watched, she retrieved a little nip bottle out of her purse and dumped the entire contents into her coffee.

Seated across from Paula was her brother Earl, who, along with his wife Arlene, were precisely the opposite of Paula. Fastidiously groomed, they both wore expensive clothes, and Arlene’s hair was perfectly coiffed, her fingers glittered with bejeweled rings. Their expressions echoed the mother’s disapproval.

“Honestly, Paula, can’t you get through one day without the help of Mr. Jack Daniel?” Earl asked.

“Shows how much you know, that wasn’t Jack Daniel’s, it was Baileys Irish Cream. I would never mix Jack with coffee.” Paula hiccupped and practically fell off her chair.

Doris rolled her eyes and shook her head.“Earl’s right, you need to straighten up. No wonder the business is going down the crapper.”

Earl turned to his mother.“Mom, it is not going down thecrapper.” He glanced back at me as if he was thinking they shouldn’t be airing their dirty laundry in front of the innkeeper. It would have been prudent to quietly fade into the hallway so as not to witness the family argument that appeared to be brewing, but I was nosey. Besides, I liked to know who was arguing with whom under my roof, just to keep an eye out for any trouble.

“Might as well be, with all you shady characters running it,” added Bob, the other son, who I’d determined was the black sheep of the family. Unlike Earl, who dressed to the nines in designer clothing and Italian leather footwear, Bob was wearing a navy-blue hoodie, jeans and sneakers with the laces undone. He was probably in his late forties and had salt-and-pepper hair that swooped over his forehead in a comb-over. I don’t know if he was just a sloppy dresser or trying to look younger, but his clothing choices did nothing for him. It was no surprise, given the way he dressed, that Bob didn’t appear to have a significant other.

Carla, the other sister, gave Bob a raised brow.“Like you should talk. You’re the one who has a suspicious past.”

I could tell Carla was the most normal one of the bunch. But that wasn’t saying much. She was also the most annoying, insisting on using her navy-blue Yale coffee mug for breakfast, as if she had to show off her pedigree. I mean, she was in her mid-forties and college was a long time ago. I figured she probably handled the legal aspects of the business. Her husband, Henry, sat quietly beside her as always. I got the impression that Henry only spoke when Carla gave him the okay.

“I do not. That’s Paula,” Bob said.

Paula took offense.“I don’t have a suspiciouspassht. Mypassht is wide open. You should be looking at Arlene when talking about a suspiciouspassht.” She eyed her sister-in-law. I didn’t like the way Arlene was clutching her knife as she glared back at Paula.

“Children!” Doris tapped her spoon on her glass. “Quiet! Can’t we all just get along for one week?”

Silence ensued while they all got busy with their food. Arlene primly rearranged the napkin in her lap while still managing to shoot daggers at Paula. Even Ed’s hammering had stopped, which was kind of weird. Maybe he was taking a break. I should see if he wanted some breakfast.

Carla broke the silence.“Did you take the last pancake?” She jerked her head toward Bob’s plate.

Bob shoved a maple-syrup-soaked piece of pancake into his mouth and gestured toward the buffet and its empty silver pancake platter.“No one’s name was on it. Maybe you should fill your plate once instead of taking little bits and going up four times.”

Carla folded her arms across her chest.“I was going up for seconds. You always take the last pancake. It’s not fair.” She turned to her mother. “Right?”

Doris rolled her eyes again.

Merow!

“What was that?” Bob made a show of looking around the room, probably hoping to change the subject. “Is that one of those adorable cats you have here?”

Adorable? I supposed they were sort of cute when they weren’t pushing things off the counter or ripping the toilet paper off the roll… or finding dead bodies.

“Yes.” I glanced at the door to the hallway. The meow sounded far away, like it had come from the closed off west wing where Ed’s hammering had been. It also sounded eerily like the meows they’d made a few weeks ago when they were trying to alert us that a guest was dead in that very same wing. I glanced around the table. Nope, all guests accounted for, thankfully.

“Don’t try to change the subject.” Carla stabbed her fork into a piece of pancake on Bob’s plate.

“Hey!” Bob took his knife and tried to knock the pancake off Carla’s fork.

You’d think they were ten years old and not grown adults with children of their own. Thankfully they hadn’t brought any of them. I could only imagine whatthose kids were like.

Meoooo!This one was louder and more insistent.

Doris frowned and craned her neck to look out into the hallway from where the meows were emitting.

“I hate when he takes the last pancake,” Paula slurred and listed in her chair.

“Taking the last pancake is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen you people do,” Bob said.

Merow!Even louder.

I strained to hear. Was that Ed hammering again? It sounded like he was using the sledgehammer on something, but at least that indicated he was alive. Of course, it was silly of me to assume that every time the cats yowled like that there would be a dead body. But still…

Earl leaned forward, getting into Bob’s face. He was blissfully oblivious to the potential hidden meaning of the caterwauling. “What are you talking about?”

Bob shoved another piece of pancake in.“I think you know.”

Meroogh!

“What is with those cats?” Doris asked, ignoring the ridiculous pancake argument.

“I’m not sure. They might be hungry.” Yeah, that was probably it. Even though it sounded like they were in the west wing, they were probably near their food bowls in the kitchen. Sound tended to get distorted and carry from strange places in this old house. I started in that direction when….

Crash!

That came from the west wing.

Mewooo!

Mewargh!

“Josie!” Ed’s voice, loud but shaky, echoed through the house. “You’d better come see this.”

Two

“You stay here and enjoy your breakfast. I’m sure it’s nothing. Ed tends to get overly excited,” I reassured my guests, who were all staring at me.

I dashed off toward the west wing. Judging by the thunder of footsteps behind me, they didn’t stay put as I’d suggested. Darn it! The last thing I needed was some sort of disaster to make them want to check out of the guesthouse early with an unpaid bill. My mind reeled. What could it be? Was it the mold? I’d been told one of the walls was rotting and likely had mold inside. That might put guests off, even though I was fixing it. Maybe it was something else. Ed could have been hurt. Or the cats. Though judging by their meows no damage had been done to their vocal cords.

I really didn’t want the Biddefords to follow me, but they seemed determined. And besides, I would just have to go back in the dining room and explain whatever it was that Ed was yelling about to them anyway. I forged ahead full speed with the whole family on my heels. As I reached the door I glanced over my shoulder. Doris was right behind me. Who knew the old girl could run so fast?

Of course, the door to the west wing was locked, just as I’d been instructed by our new building inspector to do, so I had to detour into the kitchen and grab the key out of the drawer. When I came back, I had to clear the Biddefords away from the door to open it. Doris had been bent down peeking through the keyhole.

I unlocked the door, and it swung open. My gaze went immediately to the stairway on the right. That’s where the body had been just a few weeks ago. Today, though, there was only some dust. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Merooo!Nero ran over to me and then trotted back to the doorway that led to the room where Ed was. He stopped and looked over his shoulder as if waiting for me to follow. All sounds of hammering and sawing had stopped.

“Ed, are you okay?” I yelled. Ed was elderly, maybe he’d had a heart attack or something.

“I’m fine but I don’t think this guy is…”

This guy? I steeled myself as I entered the other room.

The room Ed was working in had been a ballroom at one time. It wasn’t gigantic but it wasn’t tiny either. It was in quite a state of disrepair; water-stained ceiling, wallpaper coming off in strips. Remnants of the original black-and-white marble-tile flooring were chipped and cracked, and most of the windows were boarded up. I was planning on turning it into a game room. Ed had been replacing the old plaster walls first since we already knew there was water damage.

He was standing in front of the worst damaged section of the wall. He’d made good progress and a large section of the old horsehair plaster had been removed to reveal the inside of the wall. The demolition had created a dusty pile of rubble, and I could see the slats inside the wall. Too bad I could also see something else. A skeleton.

A human skeleton.

“Talk about skeletons in your closet.” Bob came up beside me and leaned forward to peer at the bones.

Human bones didn’t faze me in the least. I’d been in the middle of training as a medical examiner before giving up my career to raise a family. I immediately took note of the appearance of the bones. They looked dry, brittle. No tendons or flesh stuck to them. The skeleton had been in there for a long time. What was it doing inside the wall? Had it been buried in the wall when the place was built or put in sometime later? And why had no one noticed? Seems like a dead body would have smelled, unless already a skeleton when it was shoved in there.

Paula dug a nip out of her purse and I recognized the black-and-white label of Jack Daniel’s. Guess discovering a skeleton called for the hard stuff.

“This calls for a drink!” She downed it in one quick swig to the disapproving glare of her siblings.

Doris didn’t admonish Paula. She was busy staring at the skeleton. Her face was pinched, her eyes narrowed. She swayed a bit and I was worried she might faint, but it turned out she was just trying to get a closer look. Before I knew it, she was crouched down beside the skeleton, lifting up its hand. It was wearing a ring—gold with an oval carnelian signet.

“Lordy! It’s Jedediah Biddeford! He’s come back to enact the curse just like he said he would!” Doris dropped the hand and the bones clattered as she shot up to a standing position.

Ed raised his brows at me.

The cats sniffed the ring.

“Wait a minute? What curse?” Arlene’s gaze shifted between Doris, Earl and the skeleton.

“You didn’t tell her about the curse?” Doris shot a look at Earl.

Earl shrugged.“It’s just a stupid old wives’ tale.”

Carla gestured toward the skeleton.“Apparently not. I mean heis here.”

Earl scowled.“He is nothere. That’s just a skeleton. It’s not like it’s his ghost or anything.” He turned to his wife. “There’s an old family legend about an ancestor who will come back and haunt anyone who digs up his treasure.”

Carla frowned.“Hey, wait. Does that mean someone dug up treasure?”

Doris’s dark eyes scanned the faces of her children. “Well, did anyone?”

They shook their heads.

“I doubt there is an actual treasure…” Bob said slowly. He looked distracted, as if he was wondering if there really was a treasure and, if so, where it might be.

“We don’t even know that this is Jedediah,” I said. I’d heard about the curse from Millie. Millie’s family had bought the guesthouse from Jedediah’s family back in the day. Apparently old Jedediah Biddeford had issued some curse meant to warn anyone away from the treasure he was planning on bringing back from Europe. He claimed he’d come back and haunt whoever messed with his treasure.

“That’s his ring.” Doris pointed toward the hand. “I saw an old picture of it once. My granddaddy said Jed always wore it. Never took it off.”

“But Jedediah never came back from Europe. So that can’t possibly be him in there.” At least that’s what I’d been told.

Doris looked at me like I had five heads.“Don’t you know? He always said he’d return. And this is the form he’s taken. And if he’s back you know what that means?” She looked around at her kids like a lady who was sure she had the winning lottery ticket. “The treasure came back too.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Paula had dug out another nip. She raised the Jack Daniel’s in the air then threw her head back and chugged it down.

Ed scowled at Doris.“Lady. This isn’t a ghost. This is a skeleton. He hasn’t come back.” Ed poked at the femur bone with a long old-fashioned oak folding ruler. “This guy’s been in here for a couple hundred years.”

“What the—”

I turned to see the guesthouse maid, Flora, in the doorway. Flora had sort of come with the place. Millie had assured me she did a great job. At what, I had no idea because for most of the tasks I gave her, she simply claimed she didn’t “do” that sort of work. I did see her dusting sometimes, but mostly she could be found watching the new TV in the parlor. She must have been on a commercial break and come to check out the ruckus.

Flora was a tiny thing with a shock of white hair and round glasses that made her eyes look gigantic. I had no idea how old Flora was but if I had to guess I’d say she was about as old as the guesthouse itself. Probably knew Jedediah Biddeford personally.

She narrowed her gaze at the skeleton.“What’s that?”

“Jedediah Biddeford,” Doris said.

Flora’s brows shot up. “You mean the guy who buried the treasure? He really did come back from Europe?”

Great. Even Flora believed in the curse. That’s all I needed, a bunch of treasure hunters digging up the place.

Doris nodded.“Yep.”

“I doubt it’s him,” Ed reiterated.

“Did he really bury treasure?” Henry seemed interested in something for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Doubt it.” Earl didn’t sound convinced.

“Stranger things have happened.” Paula leaned against the wall, probably to keep from falling down.

“It’s nonsense,” Ed said, waving his hand dismissively. “Old rumors probably got all misconstrued over the years. I’d be more concerned about how the guy got here. Someone stuffed him in and closed up the wall. That’s no curse. That’s murder.”

The room fell silent as we all let Ed’s words sink in.

Flora broke the silence.“I don’t know who he is, if he buried treasure or who put him in there, but I do know that I’m not cleaning this mess up. I don’t do skeletons.” She gave me a pointed look and then turned and shuffled off toward the hallway.

Ed had a point. Whoever the skeleton was, he didn’t get into that wall on his own. And while I didn’t believe in curses and I was darn sure there was no treasure buried at the guesthouse, I did know one thing. This discovery was a police matter.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed the sheriff.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Nero sat off to the side, preening his sleek black fur as he watched the humans inspect the skeleton. Of course, he and Marlowe had known the skeleton was in the wall for quite some time now, but Josie hadn’t heeded the many warnings they’d given her.

“If only she’d listened to us two weeks ago when we were trying to alert her by scratching on the wallpaper. Then she wouldn’t have made the guests aware of this gruesome discovery.” Marlowe’s mottled black-and-ginger tail swished on the floor, clearing away a swath of dust.

“Indeed. Her communication skills are not progressing as quickly as they should.”

Nero glanced at Josie. They’d inherited the tall redhead when Millie had put them in charge of the guesthouse. Oh sure, it was all disguised as a sale of the property and Millie had told Josie she couldn’t have cats at the senior housing where she was moving and that their continued presence at the guesthouse was a condition of the sale.

But Nero knew the truth. Millie was getting on in years and wanted to enjoy life free from the responsibility of running a business. She still loved her precious Oyster Cove Guesthouse and had left the most trustworthy being on the planet in charge—Nero. Of course, Marlowe thought that she was also in charge, but Nero knew the responsibility lay mostly with him. Marlowe was, after all, Nero’s prot?g? and therefore a subordinate. Lord knew Marlowe had a lot to learn, not the least of which was how to investigate a murder properly. At the rate the younger cat was progressing, Nero feared it might be two lifetimes before she came up to speed.

Still, it didn’t hurt to let Marlowe think she was more important than she was and on equal footing in guesthouse responsibilities. Sometimes one had to let others think things were one way, even when you knew the real truth. Like the fact that Josie thought she was in control of the guesthouse simply because Millie had sold her the property, for example. Silly humans.

Though much superior, Nero had to admit cats couldn’t do everything that humans could, so naturally they needed Josie as a frontwoman to run things. Nero also had no desire to concern himself with the more mundane tasks of cooking, laundry, accounting and the like. That’s what humans were for.

Unfortunately, Josie had proven to be a slow learner. She didn’t listen to them like Millie did. And that’s why she had misunderstood their previous communication about what was inside the wall, thinking it was merely mold or dry rot. Oh well, she would learn eventually. He hoped.

Marlowe grimaced as the old lady, Doris Biddeford, picked up the skeleton’s hand and let it fall back. “That’s tampering with a crime scene.”

Nero smiled. As the older and wiser cat, he’d been training Marlowe in the ways of a cat detective. Because that’s what they were, not merely stewards of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse, but also detectives of the feline variety who helped humans solve their cases. The humans had no inkling of their help, of course. It was quite a trick to point them toward clues and reveal suspects, all the while making them think it was their idea.

“It is of little matter. There will not be much to investigate here,” Nero said.

Marlowe jerked her gaze toward the skeleton, her face scrunched in disappointment.“What do you mean? There’s a body inside the wall. That guy didn’t get there on his own, just like Ed said.”

“That much is true, but this death doesn’t warrant a feline investigation. It doesn’t take a forensic anthropologist to see the skeleton has been in there for centuries.” Nero jerked his head toward the skeleton. “I mean look at it, it’s all dried out and smells of old hatred and long-buried criminal intent.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Nero nodded sagely. He usually was right, at least when it came to matters of murder.“What would there be to investigate? The killer is long dead. No suspects to follow or clues to unearth.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun, I guess.” Marlowe’s disappointment was palpable. Good girl. At least someone here was progressing nicely. Marlowe had made great strides during the last investigation and now wanted to try her hand at another, and that was a good sign. But just notthis investigation because there was simply nothing to explore.

Nero loved nothing more than to sink his claws into a juicy murder, but this death was about as interesting as a week-old can of sardines.“Besides, much of the satisfaction is bringing the killer to justice and this killer is long gone already.”

Marlowe yawned and stretched out her front paws.“I just wish there wassomething for us to investigate.”

Nero didn’t want to get Marlowe’s hopes up, but if his seventh sense was as good as it usually was, therewas something going on inside the guesthouse that may need investigation soon. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he’d sensed little undercurrents, sneaky nefarious vibrations. Unfortunately, very soon, Marlowe might get her wish.

“Odd, none of the guests seem disturbed by this discovery.” Nero studied their faces and posture. He could tell they were interested in the skeleton but not in a who-killed-my-ancestor kind of way. He could also tell that they were all trying to conceal their interest from each other.

“They seem more excited than anything,” Marlowe said.

“They are an odd bunch. Don’t seem to like each other much.”

Marlowe’s green eyes narrowed to luminescent slits. “No. And I think they have secrets.”

Nero’s whiskers twitched. So Marlowehadnoticed the whispers and secret meetings. Good for her.

“I’m not sure any of them can be trusted,” Nero warned. “Though their business sounds delightful. All that cheese.”

“Odd business, isn’t it? Cheese sculptures? Wouldn’t think there would be a big call for it among humans.”

“Maybe that’s why they are not doing well.” Nero sniffed the air. His keen olfactory senses had been flooded with the scents of Brie and cheddar since the new guests had arrived. It was enough to drive a cat mad. “Though I think their business not doing well is due more to infighting.”

“You’ll get no argument from me there. I don’t know how Josie stands it with them constantly snapping at each other,” Marlowe said.

“I think Josie is just happy to have paying guests. At least that’s how I’d look at it,” Nero said. “She’s practical and that’s a good way to be. Now if only we could get her to actually pay attention to us.”

“Do you think we’ve been too soft on her?”

Nero thought about it for a second. There was a fine line between creating a bond with your human and spoiling them to the point where they thought they were in control.“I’ve been taking her seat every night in the chair she loves to sit in in the parlor. You know, the overstuffed comfy one that shows off the black hairs I shed?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been lying on her keyboard when she wants to type, then sticking my tail in her face when she tries to move me.”

“And we’ve been going into the dining room when the guests are in there eating, just like she asked us not to.” Nero glanced up at Josie. She did seem to be taking command of the situation. At least she wasn’t swooning or acting all weirded out about the skeleton. “Maybe we are expecting progress too quickly. I mean, she did finally get our drift about the murder a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, that is something at least.” Marlowe threaded her way through Doris Biddeford’s ankles. “Do you think there really is treasure out there somewhere?”

Nero’s whiskers twitched at the mention of treasure. Oh, how fun that would be. His claws itched to grab onto some dirt and really dig. But if there had been treasure on the grounds, surely his superior senses would have alerted him long ago. “Doubtful. Though by the looks of the humans, they mightbelieve in such a thing.”

Marlowe finished her route around the humans’ ankles and trotted back to where Nero was under the window. “Come on, let’s go claw some dirt out of those plants in the conservatory. Millie brought them even though Josie hasn’t had Ed finish the room yet and no one will even notice we’ve been near them. I’m in the mood for digging.”

“Perfect. Josie won’t like that at all.” Nero stood and stretched.

“Yes, one more way to show her she doesn’t own us.”

“Good thinking.” Josie had made the mistake of saying that once and it really stuck in Nero’s craw. Apparently, Marlowe felt the same.

“I just hope Josie doesn’t withhold treats once she discovers the mess,” Marlowe said as she led the way out.

Nero paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder at the Biddefords, who were talking animatedly while Josie called the cops on her cell phone.“Me either. But somehow I have the feeling a little dirt and an old skeleton are going to be the least of Josie’s problems.”

Three

“Who says he never made it to Europe? Maybe this happened when he got back from Europe,” Mom whispered to Millie and me in the hall after the sheriff, Seth, had kicked us out of the room.

Millie nodded.“Good point, Rose. But either way, whoever did it is long gone. Still, maybe we could do some research and come up with a list of possible suspects.”

“Might not be very much fun though if we can’t confront the culprit and see him arrested,” Mom said as she and Millie slowed to a crawl. Apparently, they couldn’t walk fast while their minds were full of the possibility of a new investigation.

I sped ahead and continued down the hallway. The Biddefords had all disappeared and I felt it was my duty to make sure they weren’t shaken by these new events. Whoever was in the wall was likely a relative… or had been murdered by one.

I heard a murmur of conversation from the dining room and headed in that direction. The Biddefords were there, but they weren’t sitting in shocked silence contemplating their lost ancestor as I’d imagined. They were scarfing up the remains of the breakfast. There were no sniffles, or muted grieving tones. The room was abuzz with excitement.

“I’ll tell you exactly what this means,” Doris said. “This means that Jedediah really did bury that treasure.”

“I thought the curse was that he would come back to enact some revenge on anyone who messed with his treasure. Doesn’t seem like he came back to me. Looks like he’d been there the whole time.” Paula strolled along the server looking at what was left of breakfast. She stopped in front of thepumpkin bread and my heart leapt. Would she cut a piece? I wondered if the excessive drinking had dulled her pallet. Then again, that might be a good thing if she was going to eat my pumpkin bread.

Doris pinched off a piece of bacon and fed it to Nero, who was skulking around under the table. Darn cat, I’d told him not to go in the dining room when guests were eating. They never listened. I was sure Marlowe wasn’t far behind either. Yep, her tail was sticking out from under Earl’s chair.

“Nonsense! You know how those old curses are, they get all mixed up because they’re handed down generation to generation. It’s like that game where you whisper in each other’s ears and by the time it gets to the end, it’s not even close to what it was when it started. The specifics of thecurse might have been different too. But there’s one thing for sure. He did come back—seeing as his skeleton was found in the wall,” Doris said.

Her children looked at her with a mixture of doubt and greed in their eyes.

Paula picked up a knife, her hand hovering over the loaf. I held my breath.

“Did anyone try a piece of this?” Paula bent down and sniffed. She eyed the loaf as if it were trying to trick her, then put the knife down.

No one answered her.

“Maybe I’ll just have some more eggs.” She scooped some onto a plate and returned to her seat.

“But now what does it mean? If he came back doesn’t that mean someone took his treasure? And how, exactly, will he get revenge?” Arlene asked.

“Maybe the opening of the wall has released his ghost,” Henry answered, eyes scanning the edges of the room, no doubt looking for Jed’s spirit. Would tourists want to stay in a haunted guesthouse or was that off-putting to most? Hopefully this would all be cleared up before word got out and Ihad to find out firsthand if having a ghost would be bad for business.

Mom and Millie had come in behind me, but the Biddefords were too engrossed in their conversation to notice us.

“If someone did take his treasure, that person is long dead, so good luck to old Jed for getting his revenge.” Earl popped a grape into his mouth.

“How do you know he even made it to Europe?” Arlene asked.

“He must have, because I remember seeing family letters he sent from overseas.” Bob poured a cup of coffee and slurped.

“But what about those rumors that he never came back? Wouldn’t people have noticed that he did?” Carla asked.

“I know!” Doris fed a scrap of bacon to Marlowe this time. “I bet you he kept it a secret because he had the treasure. He didn’t want anyone to know he was back because he wanted time to bury it.”

“But then someone came in and bashed him over the head and buriedhim in the wall!” Bob sounded almost gleeful.

“Yeah, but the question is, did he bury the treasure first or did the killer get it?” Paula asked.

Her question was met with silence as they contemplated this.

“I bet he buried it first. If he hadn’t buried it, then surely the family records would have shown someone spending a lot of money.” Earl turned to Doris. “There weren’t any rumors about a big influx of money back during that time, were there?”

Doris pressed her lips together.“Well that was a bit before my time, but I don’t remember anything about sudden wealth. If someone found it, they could have doled it out a little bit at a time. The family originally had a lot of money from Jed’s spice import business, but since future generations had to sell off the house, I’m gonna assume there was no treasure chest of riches found.”

Paula’s eyes lit up. “It could still be buried here.”

“Yeah, but where?” Bob glanced out the window.

“Maybe he didn’t bury it, maybe he hid it in the house somewhere?” Henry said.

Doris scowled at him as if he were dense.“I hope not. Most of the original structure from Jed’s time—aside from that one ballroom wall where he has been found—has been torn down and renovated. I remember my grandfather showing me that the only part that hadn’t been touched from the old house was that wall where Jed’s skeleton was. And there was no treasure in the wall with him, so if it was hidden somewhere else in the house someone would have found it by now.”

“Mom’s right,” Earl said. “Besides, I think I remember the curse having something to do with haunting anyone whodug upthe treasure—he must have intended to bury it. Our best bet is to look on the grounds.”

“So my question still stands,where on the grounds?” Bob said.

“I wonder if he left a map?” Arlene asked.

Earl put his arm around her.“That’s a good question, honey. You’re always thinking. Where would he have left it?”

“Hopefully not hidden in the house otherwise that’s gone too,” Doris said.

“Maybe he had it on him?” Paula suggested.

“In the wall?” Earl glanced toward the hallway. “We should go look.”

“Can’t,” Doris said. “The police are in there now. Besides, I looked in there pretty good and didn’t see anything but that ring and a bunch of bones. We all got there together so no one would have had time to take the map out without the rest of us seeing them do it.”

“Can we look in any of the family documents?” Bob asked Doris. “Did Grandpa Biddeford ever mention anything about a map?”

“He never mentioned anything to me.” Doris waved her hands. “You can look if you want. I’m not gonna waste my time looking for some map.”

“What if someone did find out and never said anything.” Carla tapped her fork on her empty plate. “There might not even be any treasure.”

“True, but what if it wasn’t found… then it could still be out there.” Doris gestured toward the window.

“Don’t any of you care who killed him?” I asked. I’d walked to the buffet and was bravely cutting into the pumpkin bread. One didn’t have to be a master chef to see it was a little dry. I’d have to work on that recipe, but for now copious amounts of butter should make it palatable.

The conversation stopped and they all looked at me, then at each other. Doris shook her head.

“Nah! None of us knew him and, besides, the killer is long dead. Whoever did it got what’s coming to him. That’s old news. What’snew news is the treasure, and I’m fixin’ to be the one who digs it up, my business depends on it!” She pushed up from the table and hurried out of the room.

“Hey, where’s she going?” Arlene asked.

Earl leapt from his chair and pulled Arlene up with him.“My guess is to scout out likely spots.”

Bob threw down his napkin and followed them out of the room.

Carla jumped up.“Come on, Henry. We’re not letting them get a head start!”

Paula remained seated at the table alone. She looked shell-shocked. After a few beats, she stumbled up from the chair and spun in the direction of the door.“Hey, wait for me!”

Meow.

Marlowe and Nero were at my feet looking up at me, probably waiting for a crumb of pumpkin bread to fall. Unlike most cats, these two would eat anything.

“Yeah sure, now that everyone is gone, you’re looking to me for food? I thought I told you two not to come in here when the guests were eating.”

Millie scooped Nero up in her arms.

“See they never listen to me.” I examined the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. I’d put so much butter on it, it looked like frosting. Surely something with that much butter couldn’t taste bad.

“Now, dear,” Millie clucked. “Cats have their own rules. You have to listen tothem not the other way around.” She picked a dried leaf from Nero’s fur. “Have they been digging in the plants? Naughty. Naughty.”

Nero purred and rubbed his cheek against Millie’s while casting a see-that’s-how-you-treat-me look in my direction.

I took a tentative bite. Just as I suspected, it was dry and tasted like sawdust.

“Josie, I hope you’ve been watering those plants.” Millie put Nero down and picked up Marlowe.

“I have,” I managed to choke out while trying to swallow the pumpkin bread. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about the gigantic potted trees that Millie had bought at a yard sale last week. She said they’d go perfectly in the conservatory, which they would have if the room was anywhere near being done. Right now it was as dilapidated as the ballroom. I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth so I accepted them and put them in the room near one of the windows that wasn’t boarded up. Hopefully they weren’t as dried up and dead as the skeleton.

Millie looked at the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand.“Is that what you’re making for the town celebration?” She must have noticed I was trying, unsuccessfully, to choke down that one little bite.

“It was a recipe I tried. It needs some work,” I admitted.

“Looks dry. Maybe add some more oil.” Millie was a whiz at baking. She’d generously left her recipes here when I’d bought the guesthouse. Lucky thing for me she also kept popping in to bake too. If it wasn’t for Millie the guests might have starved. Though I was a tad bit insulted she thought I couldn’t handle the cooking, I had to admit she was right.

“I can help you on that later.” Millie glanced toward the hallway. “Once the police are done. Hopefully Mike will tell us what they said.”

“Mike?” I picked a crumb off the pumpkin bread and dropped it on my tongue. Even that was dry. “I thought he left. I mean, doesn’t he have building-inspector business to tend to?”

Mom and Millie exchanged a look.

“So, you are interested!” Millie sounded as if she’d just won the lottery.

“No,” I said. “I just thought he had left.”

“He’s in the crime-scene room making sure Seth doesn’t damage anything,” Millie said.

That figured. I was willing to bet Mike was hanging around for more reasons than to make sure nothing got damaged. He’d been an investigator in the navy and, judging by his actions when we’d found the last body, he still couldn’t resist an investigation. How he’d ended up a handyman turned building inspector was anyone’s guess. He’d told me it was because he liked to work with his hands, though I suspected at the time thatthat statement had a double meaning.

Thoughts of the last investigation reminded me of how annoying Mike could be. He’d insinuated that I had no business investigating to clear my own name and practically ordered me to stop looking for the killer. The nerve!

Good thing I had no interest in getting to the bottom of this skeleton case. He could have it.

“If you thought he left, you must have been thinking of him,” Mom said in that tone that indicated she knew my mind better than I did. “I don’t blame you. He’s a hottie. And he’s a very nice boy.”

“Just because you made a bad choice for your last husband doesn’t mean you can’t try again,” Millie added.

My“bad choice” was the other reason I’d come back to Oyster Cove. No wonder I was no good at cooking. My ex-husband was a semi-famous chef, so naturally he’d done all the cooking when we were married. He’d also done a lot of other things that I won’t bore you with. The divorce was not amicable and the only good thing that came from that marriage was my daughter, Emma. It had all turned out for the best though. I was finding a new freedom, and, by running the guesthouse, learning I was capable and self-sufficient. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me or tell me what to do, especially not Mike Sullivan.

“What do you make of all this Jedediah Biddeford business?” I changed the subject.

“Notsh oroamnl oar,” my mom mumbled. While we’d been talking about my love life, she’d grabbed a plate and helped herself to the buffet.

“Huh?”

“She said she’s not sure she believes in the curse,” Millie translated.

“Yeah me either,” I said. “But still thereis a skeleton in the wall.”

“Right. And that means shenanigans,” Millie said.

Mom washed down her bacon with a swig of juice.“He must have been killed for a reason.”

“Maybe nothing to do with treasure, though,” I said.

“Of course, the mere notion of treasure here on the property is ridiculous,” Millie said softly as she cast a wistful glance out the window.

“If there was one, I’m sure we’d have heard about it by now.” I tossed the rest of my pumpkin bread onto one of the dishes and started clearing the table.

“Or someone would have dug it up. Right, Rose?” Millie asked my mother.

“Right.” Mom stuffed the last bit of food in her mouth and headed toward the door. “But just the same, I want to be prepared.”

“Where are you going?” I stacked more dirty dishes on top of each other.

“Why, down to Ace Hardware to buy a shovel, of course,” Mom called over her shoulder. “Hurry, Millie. A little digging will be good exercise and you never know what we might find!”

Four

Nero stretched out in the puddle of sunshine on the conservatory floor. The guesthouse was blissfully silent; all the guests had gone out to buy shovels and Josie had gone to the store. He rolled this way and that, enjoying the warmth on his fur and smelling the fresh scent of the dirt from the plants. He stretched his claws, noting that there was still a smidge of dirt under the nails from digging in the enormous pot of the ficus tree that sat next to the window. Sure, they could dig all they wanted outside, but there was nothing like digging up a plant in the comfort of your own home. Plus, it would help keep Josie on her toes, and impress upon her that cats didn’t simply obey human orders.

The conservatory faced east and therefore had a delightful view of Smugglers Bay, with its craggy rock inlet and sun-dappled waves. Too bad most of the conservatory windows were boarded up. The room would have a magnificent view once new ones were installed.

Nero didn’t mind the windows on the far side of the room being boarded as those blocked the view of the neighboring Smugglers Bay Inn. Not only was that inn somewhat of a rival to the guesthouse, but the owner, Stella Dumont, and Josie were rivals for the affections of Mike Sullivan. Even if Josie herselfdidn’t realize this yet, Nero was firmly on Josie’s side. The less he had to look at Smugglers Bay Innand Stella Dumont, the better.