A Twist In The Tail. A Whisker In The Dark. A Purrfect Alibi

From his spot, he could just see the edge of the deck where Stella served meals. He watched the gulls swooping in circles above it. There were more there now than there had been last week, and he was glad their numbers were no longer diminishing, even though they insisted on tormenting the cats by dive-bombing them.

Of course, Nero himself was not afraid of the gulls. Those times he ducked under a hydrangea when a gull swooped were only to demonstrate to the other cats what they could do to protect themselves… even if no cats were around to see.

“The gulls are in good form today I see,” said Marlowe, her luminescent green eyes following Nero’s gaze.

“Let’s hope they discourage some of the diners at the Smugglers Bay Inn.” Nero figured anything that drove customers away from the inn was good for the guesthouse.

“It’s nice and quiet in here now with all the guests gone.” Marlowe trotted to another small patch of sun in the corner and curled into a tight ball, wrapping her tail around her nose.

“Silly of them to run off after shovels, don’t you think?” Nero asked.

Marlowe raised her head.“I suppose so. Humans are always looking for some sort of treasure when all they really need to make life worth living is free. What would they do with it anyway? Probably just spend it on silly material things.”

Nero nodded sagely.“Humans just don’t get it like we do. All we need is a warm meal and a comfortable spot in the sun. Though I do enjoy the gravy cat food and manufactured treats that Josie buys from the store.”

Nero heard a commotion in the foyer.

“Looks like the blissful silence is over. Someone is home.” Marlowe sighed.

Nero’s ears perked up, listening to discover who it was. He couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but he sensed it was the two brothers, Bob and Earl. His whiskers tingled. Something was going on between them and he was sure it was not good. He stood and stretched.

“I think we should take a trot upstairs and see what these humans are up to.”

Marlowe slit one eye open, obviously reluctant to leave her sunny spot.“You think they’re up to something? I have noticed a certain amount of strain between the siblings. Not to mention a tinge of animosity and nefarious thoughts.”

“Indeed. Perhaps this treasure will bind them together.” Nero gestured toward the doorway. Marlowe could be a bit lazy, but skulking around and finding out what the humans were up to was important cat business.

“Or set them at each other’s throats even more.” Marlowe rose, stretching so hard that her back cracked.

“Let’s take the back stairs. I hear them up near their rooms.”

The mansion had several sets of stairs, but the back stairs near the kitchen were Nero’s favorite. The old narrow treads that creaked under human weight were silent when cats ran up them, allowing Nero and Marlowe to sneak around the mansion without being heard. They were covered in layers of white paint so thick that it was almost soft. No human liked to go in the confined space,which made it even more perfect for cats. He and Marlowe trotted up stealthily, spilling out into the jewel-toned oriental runner that ran the length of the second-story hallway where most of the habitable rooms were situated.

Nero was surprised to see Flora standing in the middle of the hallway with a pink feather duster in her hand. She was dusting off a credenza on which sat various knick-knacks that Nero liked to push to the floor every so often. Her head was bent about two inches from the surface so that she could inspect her own work. Poor Flora—even with her coke-bottle glasses, her eyesight wasn’t the best.

Marlowe and Nero exchanged a glance. They’d never seen her so intent on cleaning. Was Flora turning over a new leaf?

They skulked along the perimeter of the hallway, ears cocked and superior hearing senses on alert to overhear what the humans were saying. Nero was a little worried. He’d already suspected the humans were not enamored with each other and now he was concerned the thought of this treasure might cause them to do something crazy. The last thing the guesthouse needed was another scandal. But if such a thing happened, he wasn’t going to fall down on the job like hedid last time.

“They’re each in their rooms,” Marlowe whispered. Aiming her ears first toward Earl’s room and then toward Bob’s. “It’s boring when they are quiet.”

No sooner were the words out of Marlowe’s mouth than Bob’s door flew open. He stormed over to Earl’s room, knocking loudly before being let in.

Marlowe turned and looked at Nero, the whiskers over her left eye sticking up slightly. They both glanced at Flora, who hadn’t noticed. She moved on to dusting a plinth that held a marble bust outside of Earl’s room.

Yelling drifted from inside the room. The two men were arguing. Nero strained to listen, and Marlowe followed suit. But the arguing had stopped.

Flora continued dusting. She probably couldn’t hear them since Nero was sure she was also hard of hearing.

Nero pressed closer to the door. He could hear hushed tones, but he couldn’t make out the whole conversation, only snatches.

“… secret book!…”

“… reveal to the rest of them…”

Reveal what? Something in the secret book? Something to do with the treasure?

The door flew open.

Flora jumped back, dropping the duster.

The cats scattered.

Bob stormed out, slammed the door shut and continued to his room.

Flora scowled at him, then shrugged, picked up her feather duster and kept dusting.

Nero sat on his haunches and washed behind his ears. Apparently the Biddefords were already in deep competition for the alleged treasure, and judging by the way he’d seen them fight over pancakes, they might not be willing to share.

Five

The kitchen of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse held a lot of fond childhood memories. Mom had brought me here often when I was a kid and Millie always had a fresh baked treat for me. Now it was my turn to carry on those delicious recipes. It was a daunting task since everything I tried to bake either came out dry, burned or tasting like dirt.

The kitchen was a mixture of old antique fixtures, cheery yellow-painted cabinets and newer stainless-steel appliances. The worn, wide, pine flooring creaked in all the right places and the space always had the savory, sweet smell of family-style cooking. At least it had when Millie owned it. Now it mostly smelled like a two-alarm fire.

I’d just returned from picking up some supplies and was riffling through the yellowed, grease-smudged recipes trying to pick out another type of sweet bread since the pumpkin hadn’t worked out so well, when I glanced out the window to see Stella Dumont on the deck of the Smugglers Bay Inn looking toward my place.

Yes, that Stella Dumont. The one Mike had dumped me for in high school. Not that that had anything to do with the urge I had to trip her every time I saw her. Those feelings were more to do with her acting superior about her inn, as if it was more desirable than mine. Sure, hers was closer to the ocean with that deck overlooking the water, but at least I didn’t have seagulls pooping all over my guests’ food.

Her inn was pretty far from my place, separated by a large field that gently sloped downward. My guesthouse was situated atop the hill and had a nice panoramic view of Smugglers Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Some said it was a much better view than Stella’s inn had and I agreed.

I kind of had to squint to make out who the scrawny figure on the deck was, but I was pretty sure it was her. Why was she looking in this direction? It looked as if she was scoping out the property. Of course, she could be looking for Mike. She’d been known to pop over here a time or two to try to talk to him while he was still working here, finishing up the renovations Millie had hired him to do before she sold the place. Mike didn’t work here anymore, so what was Stella looking for? Had word already gotten around town about Jed’sskeleton and the mythical treasure? I hoped she wasn’t looking for potential treasure-hiding spots. Would more people come and try to dig? I was kind of hoping it would all die down and I wouldn’t have to figure out how to stop people from churning up the grounds. The Biddefords were my immediate problem. They seemed keen to dig up the treasure but I was sure I’d heard at least two of them come home and no one had started digging yet, so maybe they weren’t as keen on putting in the manual labor necessary.

“Seth’s done in the west wing and the body has been removed.” I jumped at the words, then turned to see Mike lounging in the doorway. His gaze shifted to the window. Was he looking out hoping to see Stella?

“I didn’t realize you were still here,” I said.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure that the Sheriff’s Department didn’t mess with the structural integrity of the wall when they were getting their evidence out,” Mike said.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that was part of the building inspector’s job.” Was it? Or was he giving the guesthouse special treatment? Of course, if he was giving it special treatment it was probably because his aunt was still attached to it, and not because of me.

“Also, Ed wanted me to double-check on his plan for redoing the conservatory, so we don’t run into any code violations later on.”

“Oh.” I guess maybe he was here officially. I turned back to my recipes.

“So anyway, this treasure thing is kind of interesting, huh?” He’d made his way across the room and was now leaning his hip against the countertop, mere inches from where I stood. “You think there really is a treasure out there?”

“I doubt it. If there was, my mom and Millie would’ve probably dug it up by now.”

Mike laughed.“Yeah, they sure are a pair, aren’t they? I heard something about them going downtown for shovels. Probably rushing back already so they can start digging any minute.”

I snorted.“No doubt.” Millie had requested I meet them at the town common later that day to go over how I wanted the Oyster Cove Guesthouse display to be setup for the town celebration. She’d said this was of the utmost importance because the display needed to be perfect so that tourists coming for thecelebration would be enticed to book a future vacation at the guesthouse, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she cancelled so she could dig for treasure.

“Are you going to go out and dig?” He leaned in closer.

I sidled away, clutching at the recipe I’d just pulled out. Cranberry-orange bread. I guess that would do for the celebration. “Nope.” I held the recipe in the air between us. “I need to try out this recipe for the town celebration. It’s really important I have something to offer that represents the Oyster Cove Guesthouse.”

His eyes drifted out the window again in the direction of the Smugglers Bay Inn. My heart twitched. If I kept putting Mike off, I was driving him right toward Stella Dumont. But if he had intentions toward her, I didn’t really want him anyway.

He pushed away from the counter.“Well, I gotta get back to the town offices. Let me know if you need anything and don’t forget to make sure you get your proper inspections for Ed’s work.”

He was all business now, probably thinking about what he might like to inspect over at the Smugglers Bay Inn.

“Will do.” I watched him leave, glad to have some alone time. I needed to concentrate on the loaf recipe.

As I pawed through the file trying to choose between the cranberry-orange bread I had in my hand, the apple-pecan bread and the peanut-butter-banana bread, I could hear the Biddefords coming back inside. They were in rare form, jostling and arguing. Not much different from before the discovery of the skeleton, but I’d probably have to lay down the law about digging. I didn’t want the yard filled with dangerous holes.

I glanced into the yard just in time to see Henry skulking around the corner of the old chicken coop, near the shed. Now there was an odd one, always with his head buried in a book. He was very quiet and didn’t seem to mesh with the rest of the family at all. I’d heard in snippets of conversations that Henry was also one of the most-skilled cheese sculptors of the entire clan and had become famous for a very detailed sculpture of the Taj Mahal in white cheddar.

What was he doing out by the shed? The shed was a newer structure and old Jed wouldn’t have used it as a landmark for his treasure cache since it wasn’t around during his time.

I craned my neck, pressing my face almost to the glass to get a better look. It didn’t look like he was digging up anything. He didn’t even have a shovel. It almost looked as if he was spying on someone, but I couldn’t see who because he was casting furtive glances in my direction. Whoever the person was they were hidden behind the tall, overgrown shrubbery on the other sideof the kitchen window.

I rushed to the pantry because the window in there was on the other side of the shrubs. Darn it! I still couldn’t see anyone, but I could hear the low murmur of voices.

“Just what do you think you’re getting at?”

I recognized Carla’s nasal Ivy League twang but she obviously wasn’t arguing with Henry. He was on the other side of the yard spying on her.

“You know what I’m getting at…”

Was that Bob? He sounded awfully mean and mad.

“… not gonna stand for it, you make it right or else…” Bob again.What wasn’t he going to stand for?

“Ha! I don’t answer to you.” Carla’s hushed whisper was sharp with anger.

Unfortunately, they then lowered their voices and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. After a few minutes of ear straining, Carla’s voice came through once more, loud and clear. “Don’t bet on it.”

The sound of rustling shrubs and Carla cursing under her breath signaled the end of the conversation. I rushed back to the kitchen, my mind whirling. What in the world was that about? I knew the whole family was at odds but clearly Carla was up to something and Bob was calling her out.

I peeked out the window in time to see Henry walking over to meet Carla. They were about twenty feet from the window now and I could see Carla had two shovels.

“What was that about?” Henry asked.

Carla glanced back toward the shrubbery and I jumped back from the window. Not that I was doing anything wrong, but still…

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna just stand by and take his crap. This time I’m going to do something about it,” she said as she thrust one of the shovels into Henry’s hands. As they turned and stalked off, her words rang in my ears. I couldn’t shake the fact that her tone was unmistakablythreatening.

Six

Carla’s words were still echoing in my head an hour later when I pulled up to the town common where they were setting up for the 250-year celebration. Millie and Mom hadn’t cancelled or shown up at the guesthouse to dig up the grounds, so I assumed our meeting was still on. It was a perfect day witha cloudless blue sky, warm sun shining down, and birds twittering and flying in the leaves of the stately oaks and maples that lined the common.

The smells of fresh peaches and honeysuckle mingled with the sounds of volunteers hammering the stakes for the giant white tents under which other volunteers were setting up tables for the various town businesses to place their brochures and items for sale. At the far end, a myriad of colorful boats could be seen moored in Oyster Cove, with the sound of the ocean lapping against the town docks and the cry of seagulls in the background.

Under the tents, the area was abuzz with town merchants vying for the best spot for their table. The celebration didn’t open to the public for another day, but everyone wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

I found Millie at the front of the tent, draping a red gingham tablecloth on a long white plastic folding table.

“Hi, Josie, what do you think?” Millie placed some Oyster Cove Guesthouse pamphlets into a plastic holder and stood back to admire her handiwork.

“It looks pretty good,” I said.

“You can pile up the baked goods over here, and then I thought we would put that book about the history of the guesthouse over here. You know, the one in the bookcase in the owner’s quarters?” She pointed to various spots on the table then turned an inquisitive face toward me. “Youare nailing down the baked goods, aren’t you?”

“Yep. I’m going to do peanut-butter-banana bread.” Of all the recipes I’d culled out, that one sounded the most interesting. I mean, who doesn’t like peanut butter and bananas? I tried to sound confident but the look on Millie’s face made me think I’d missed the mark. Maybe that recipe was above my level.

After a few seconds, she nodded.“A very good choice. If you need help let me know.”

My eyes drifted to the next table. To my dismay I spotted a pamphlet for the Smugglers Bay Inn.

“Stella Dumont’s display is right next to ours?” My tone was incredulous.

Millie’s excited expression soured. “Yes. Can you believe that? I talked to Fay Weinstein from the Chamber of Commerce to try to get it moved, but she wouldn’t do it. Two guesthouses advertising next to each other. It’s preposterous, isn’t it, Rose?” She turned to my mother who simply nodded.

I scrutinized Stella’s table. It was decked out in an eyelet-lace tablecloth with crystal candleholders and a pile of magnets and lip balm with the Smugglers Bay Inn logo. If you ask me, her logo of a one-eyed bearded pirate with a parrot on his shoulder was a little clich?d. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse didn’t have a logo, but if it did I would pick something a bit more elegant. Maybe Ishould have one, though. Would it make a difference in bookings?

I wondered what Stella was baking. She’d been known to steal recipes from Millie.

“I hear Stella is making a lemon custard,” Millie clucked disapprovingly and gestured toward the sky. “I mean with this heat, doesn’t she know the custard will sour?”

Hopefully itwould sour and fewer people would go to her inn and come to mine instead.

The buzz of activity behind us continued as we talked. Townspeople rushed around. Merchants came to check their tables and drop things off. There was something odd about the whole thing, though. Most of them had shovels. Had word gotten out about the treasure? Suddenly, I pictured the grounds of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse littered with holes much like the Swiss cheese that the Biddefords used for carving. Visions of lawsuits from people who hurt themselves falling in the holes swam in my mind.

One of the people running around inside the tent was my maid, Flora. Funny, I didn’t remember giving her the afternoon off.

Millie noticed me giving her the stink eye.

“Flora is baking for the great-grandmothers of twins’ club,” she said, as if that explained it.

I remembered Flora boasting about having dozens of grandchildren and a large number of great-grandchildren too. No surprise at least some of them were twins.“What is she making?”

“Chocolate chip, I think.” Millie leaned in. “At her age it’s hard to get a lot of baking done.”

Or maid work. Flora gave us a finger wave. Apparently she was too busy to come over and say hi. Too bad someone else wasn’t. Myron Remington.

Myron’s family owned the First Oyster Cove Bank and Trust and provided loans for most of the businesses here in town. His family had lived here for generations. I’d gone to school with Myron and he was okay, but he could be a bit snobby. I remembered he’d acted particularly snooty about getting accepted into Yale our senior year. He was wearing his usual designer three-piece suit and high-end Italian leather shoes.

Why was he coming over? He rarely gave me the time of day. Maybe he wanted to talk me into taking out a loan.

“I heard you had a little incident up at the guesthouse,” he said.

“Incident?” Millie asked. She could be very defensive about the guesthouse even though she didn’t actually own it anymore. “Honestly, it wasn’t really anincident, just some old history we dug out.”

“Well, I don’t know if you would call it old history. I heard there was a body inside the wall.”

“A skeleton. Been there for a while,” Mom said.

“Yeah, that’s interesting. Do they know how he got there?” Myron smoothed his red silk paisley tie. He seemed pretty interested in the skeleton. He’d probably heard about the curse, but I doubted he’d be the type to get his hands dirty digging up treasure. Maybe prissy Myron had a ghoulish side that was into skeletons.

“How do you think he got there? A killer put him in there.” Mom’s blunt reply earned a sharp look from Millie.

Myron blanched. Probably too graphic for his sensibilities.“He? So the skeleton was a male? Do they know who it was, or have any suspects?”

Millie scoffed.“Really, Myron, the guy has been in there for generations. The suspects would all be dead. Kind of hard to investigate that.”

I wondered about that. Was Sheriff Chamberlain going to proceed with an investigation? Did he care who the killer was? Did anyone? Anyone that would’ve known or cared about the victim, be he Jedediah Biddeford or not, was long gone. Even his own ancestors didn’t seem eager to seek justice for him.

“Is there going to be an investigation?” Myron asked as if reading my thoughts. That concerned me because the last person I wanted to be able to read my thoughts was Myron Remington.

Mom and Millie looked at each other and shrugged.

“Darned if I know,” Millie said.

Myron’s gaze narrowed. “Well if anyone would, it would be you, Millie, wouldn’t it?”

Millie blushed.“What are you trying to say, Myron?”

“Oh nothing. Just that you ladies like to investigate.” He smoothed down his comb-over. It had started to flap a bit in the breeze. “I heard you were pretty good at it.”

Millie’s scowl turned into a smile. She straightened and patted her puffy white hair. “Oh, did you really? Isn’t that lovely, Rose? Looks like we have a fan.”

My mom leaned on her shovel and nodded. She didn’t look impressed with having Myron as a fan.

“Though I suppose no investigation would be necessary if it was natural causes,” Myron said.

“I don’t think it was natural causes, Myron. Who dies of natural causes inside a wall?” Millie asked.

Myron laughed. His laugh wasn’t all that pleasant though. It reminded me of a screeching meerkat. “Right. Good point.”

He glanced around, then apparently spotted his next victim a few tables over.

“Well nice talking to you, ladies. Gotta run.” He turned and walked away.

“That Myron never changes, does he?” I turned to see my best friend from high school, Jen Summers. We’d always managed to stay in touch even after I moved away and we both were busy raising our families. I mean, you kind of have to stay in touch with a friend like Jen who knows all your girlhood secrets. One of the highlights about moving back to town had been rekindling my friendship with her.

Besides knowing all my secrets, she was a kind person and a great friend to have. She was also the postmaster in town and, since the post office was the unofficial gathering spot of the Oyster Cove grapevine, she knew all the gossip before anyone else did.

“Hey, they let you out of the post office.” I gestured toward the blue post-office uniform she wore. It might have looked industrial on anyone else, but Jen had modified it with a little tuck here and a fancy button there, which gave it a bit of designer flair. Then again, Jen was slim and looked good in most anything—even the butt-end of the cow outfit we’d once worn for Halloween—unlike myself who had a more um…curvy… physique.

She gestured toward a table at the back of the tent with a gigantic stamp on it.“I have to set up our table. Don’t know why the post office needs to advertise on a table at the town celebration. It’s not like you people could go anywhere else for your mail.” Jen laughed.

“The post office is very expensive so I get a lot of stuff from UP—” My mom’s words were cut off by Millie poking her in the ribs.

Jen pretended like she didn’t hear. “Hey, I heard about the skeleton. What’s up with that?”

“Ed was working on that old ballroom and found it inside the wall. Kinda creepy, if you ask me,” Mom said.

“Well, at least there’s no ghost,” Jen said. “Is there?”

Her voice held a hopeful tone, but luckily I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any ghost. That was the last thing I needed with all those crazy Biddefords running around. “Nope. No ghost, just a skeleton.”

“Some say it’s Jedediah Biddeford come back to get his treasure,” Jen said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.” I glanced around the tent. More people with shovels had shown up. Mom still leaned on hers as if she was protecting it from being stolen right out from under her.

“In fact, it seems like a lot of people are going to be looking to dig it up.” Jen looked at Mom’s shovel. “I heard the hardware store was sold out of shovels.”

“I got one of the last ones,” Mom chimed in.

“Lovely. So my yard will be a minefield of holes tomorrow?”

“Is it legal for people to just come on the guesthouse property and dig?” Millie asked. “I mean, it is still private property even if it is a public guesthouse.”

“Well what can you do?” Mom asked. “You can’t hire guards to patrol it.”

Millie pressed her lips together.“And you want to keep up good relations with the townspeople. Don’t want anyone bad mouthing the guesthouse.”

She had a point. If I kicked people off the property they might get angry and take revenge with bad reviews on Yelp. Was there a way I could control the digging and still keep people happy? I wasn’t too worried about the yard since the estate had acres, but most of it was rundown. “I’m going to have to lay out some ground rules. Hopefully the whole town won’t come out. And hopefully they will get tired of digging when nothing is found the first day.”

“What about the Biddefords? They tend to act like they own the place because they used to,” Millie said.

“Yeah they’re going to be a tough crowd to control.” I said wondering how, exactly, I would control them.

Jen’s eyes widened at something over my shoulder and I turned to see Mike making his way toward us. Was the guy everywhere? He swooped over to Millie’s side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“Does your job entail inspecting tents too?” I gestured toward the area around us.

Mike smiled, all boyish charm and dimples.“Nice to see you, too, Sunshine.”

Jen snorted. Mom and Millie looked pointedly from Mike to me. I pretended to ignore all of them.

“I just came by because I knew Aunt Millie would be here and she said she had something for me.”

Millie produced a bag of cookies from her canvas tote bag.“Just baked them this morning.”

Odd, usually she came to the kitchen at the guesthouse to bake. Maybe she was getting used to her own kitchen at the independent living resort where she now resided. She’d claimed the kitchen was too small to do any serious baking, but maybe cookies weren’t that serious in Millie’s book. Truth be told, the thought of Millie not stopping by the guesthouse anymore to bake made me sad. She could be a handful, but I enjoyed her company. Plus, I needed her to keep bailing me out with breakfast dishes so the guests would have appetizing food to eat.

“Did you come from the town offices?” Millie’s words dripped with faux innocence. I knew she had an ulterior motive.

Apparently Mike did too because his gaze narrowed and his hand hesitated as he pulled a chocolate-chip cookie out of the bag.“Yes, why?”

Millie played with the tablecloth avoiding Mike’s eyes. “I was just wondering… you know, because you’re right next to the police station there, if you’ve heard anything further about the skeleton they found earlier this morning?”

Mike tortured her by biting into the cookie and making a show of chewing slowly before answering.“Well, as a matter of fact I did.”

“And…?” my mother and Millie both said, leaning in toward Mike with eager looks.

“Early assessment is that the skeleton was there for almost three hundred years. I guess it’s pretty hard to date exactly, but the medical examiner used to be a forensic anthropologist so he knows old bones.”

“Did they find any more clues inside the wall?” Millie asked.

Mike shook his head.“Nothing but a bunch of plaster. They did identify the ring and they’re pretty sure the skeleton is Jedediah Biddeford based on the ring and an old fracture on his leg.”

“Aha!” My mother straightened and pulled the head of her shovel out of the ground, showing the most animation I’d seen since I’d arrived. “That settles it then. If Jedediah Biddeford really did come back from Europe, then there’s a good chance he brought the treasure back with him. And that treasure is buried somewhere on the property of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse.”

Seven

Nero scanned the activity under the tent at the town common, his intelligent gaze coming to rest on Josie. She was talking to Myron Remington at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse display table. Nero felt sorry for Myron. He knew that many of the townspeople gossiped about him behind his back but then pandered to him in person because he was in control of the money. Try as he might, Nero would never understand the humans’ obsession with money, nor how acquiring it could make them do unspeakable things.

“Hurry up, the gang’s waiting.” Marlowe had trotted ahead, her black-and-orange tail high in the air. They were heading toward the bait wharf at the town dock where they often met with their other feline friends.

The others would have heard about the discovery of the skeleton by now and would want all the juicy details. He hated to tell them that their excitement would be in vain; there was nothing left to decipher after all these years. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too disappointed. Lying around all day in the sun could get boring and he was sure the others were as eager as he was to dig into a good investigation. Then again, judging by the behavior of the guests at the guesthouse, the cats might get that chance sooner than they thought.

Nero followed Marlowe past the colorful boats bobbing in the cove, down the long wharf and up the ramp to the bait dock. It was a mystery why the humans avoided this dock. He’d see them giving it a wide birth, covering their noses and making faces as they walked past.

The bait wharf had its own unique ambiance. The lapping of waves, the briny scent of ocean and rotting fish were pleasant, the incessant cawing of the gulls not so much. The gulls could be a nuisance, especially if they swooped down at you. Luckily there were plenty of old lobster traps to hide behind if that happened. Still, Nero knew to be careful where he stepped. One panicked misstep could land you in the cold Atlantic.

“Heard someone got iced up at the guesthouse again,” said Stubbs, an orange-striped tabby with a stub of a tail who was batting at a rope dangling from the side of a lobster trap. Stubbs had a habit of talking in old-time detective speak, which Nero presumed was a result of his human reading too many Raymond Chandler books to him.

“Not exactly,” Marlowe said. “Well, I guess he got iced at some point but not in our time.”

“How long do you think he was in there?” Juliette curled her fluffy gray tail around her as she settled on top of one of the lobster pots.

“Probably about two hundred and fifty years.” Boots licked his paw, the white boot contrasting with the black on the rest of his leg, then smoothed one of his long whiskers.

“How do you know that?” Harry, a fluffy Maine Coon, asked.

Boots gave him a look of superiority. Boots could be that way. He fancied himself cleverer than the others, which could be annoying at times. But he had a good heart and mad detective skills, so Nero let it pass.“I used my superior sense to find out who the victim was and did the math.”

“You mean you overheard Sheriff Chamberlain.” Poe, a gray mix, leveled Boots with a green-eyed stare.

“Well, am I correct?” Boots ignored Poe and turned to Nero.

“Indeed. The body has been there for exactly two hundred and fifty years.” Nero used the word “exactly” loosely. His superior senses enabled him to deduct an average or expected amount of time, but he couldn’t be sure. Then again, none of the other cats could either, so he might as well try to sound smart while he could.

A shadow loomed from above and the cats all ducked. A seagull!

Splat!A white-and-orange dropping landed on the ground in the middle of the cats who had formed a conversational circle. The gull’s raucous laughter echoed as it swooped up into the sky.

“Darn things are getting aggressive again.” Juliette checked her fluffy tail for bird droppings.

“Maybe it wasn’t so bad when they were dying off.” Stubbs eyed the splatter as they all shifted over to a non-soiled part of the wharf.

“If the crime is that old it doesn’t sound like anything we could dig our claws into,” Harry said, once they were settled. “Murder most likely. I mean, how else would a skeleton get inside a wall? My informant down at the police station, Louie Two Paws, has told me the victim was all bones,and not even delicious ones either. Not that we would eat human bones. And the police think it was Jedediah Biddeford, the guy who built your very own Oyster Cove Guesthouse.”

“Indeed.” Again Nero acted like he already knew all this, but in fact he’d only suspected. He’d have found out from Millie or Josie eventually, but it was good to have confirmation straight from the police source.

“But how can we investigate?” Boots preened his long whiskers, curling them up at the end. “There are no clues left to stimulate our superior brain power or suspects alive to spy on.”

Another shadow loomed and the cats ducked again.

“Darn gulls.” Marlowe looked up at the sky.

“They seem healthy now,” Nero said. Earlier that summer the gull population had been mysteriously dying off. That was resolved now and, while Nero was glad the creatures were not dying, he still wished they would stop tormenting the cats.

“From my bird’s-eye view from the belfry, it seems as if there are more and more of them swooping around the cliffs every day. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I wouldn’t mind if they left us alone.” Juliette lived at the rectory and had full range of the entire place, including the belfry. She’d invited Nero up there once and the view was astounding. No wonder she spent so much time up there.

All the other cats nodded. The gulls took pleasure in tormenting the cats. Nero had tried to catch one once, and it was not an easy endeavor. Besides, it could be very dangerous as their beaks were sharp.

“Too bad your bird’s-eye view couldn’t show us who killed Jedediah Biddeford,” Poe said. “Then we’d be able to solve a case even the police probably can’t.”

Juliette sighed, the white star on her forehead scrunching together.“No, it can’t, but it can show me that the town has gone crazy for shovels.”

“Yeah, at first I hoped maybe they were all trying to bury bodies. But then I realized there was no way all those people bumped someone off,” Stubbs said. “Turns out it’s because of the treasure curse.”

“You mean the humans believe in that?” Boots looked incredulous. “I would think they’d be smarter.”

“When it comes to treasure, you never can tell what people will do. They go crazy,” Stubbs said.

Juliette nodded.“Sometimes even so far as to commit murder.”

“I wouldn’t put it past the Biddefords to try to bump off the competition,” Marlowe said. “We heard two of them arguing about a secret book earlier.”

“You don’t say.” Poe turned his gaze to Marlowe. “Tell me more.”

Marlowe shuffled uneasily.“Well, we’re not sure what kind of book. But it sounded important.”

“A treasure map?” Stubbs asked.

Marlowe scrunched up her nose.“I don’t think so.”

“Well what did your human, Josie, make of the argument?” Harry asked.

“She didn’t hear it,” Marlowe said.

“So she knows nothing of this supposed secret book?” Poe asked.

Marlowe washed behind her ears.“No. Hopefully it won’t become important if someone is bumped off because I have no idea how we would let her in on it.”

“We’d have to look for evidence in their rooms, I suppose,” Nero said. Then added, “But let’s not get too eager for nefarious activity.”

“Right,” Stubbs said. “We have a skeleton mystery to look into.”

“But maybe that’s how Jedediah ended up inside the wall. Someone killed him over money,” Poe suggested.

“If that’s true that means the treasure is long gone.” Nero hopped up onto one of the lobster crates, looking up anxiously to make sure another gull was not about to launch a sneak attack.

“Judging by the number of people I saw running around with shovels, the humans don’t think the treasure is long gone,” Juliette said.

“Sometimes they lack common sense,” Boots said.

“Your spot on the belfry sure is good for getting an overview of what is going on in town,” Stubbs said. “Easy to get the dime on someone that way.”

“My home at the rectory is good for more than that. I get to hear and see all sorts of things. Like the odd confession I overheard when I was napping in the confessional box this morning.”

“You nap in the confessional box?” Poe asked. “That sounds sacrilegious.”

Juliette’s fur ruffled in offense. “Well, I don’t do it to overhear confessions unless we are investigating a murder where confessions might come in handy. But it’s a lovely place to nap. All dark and cozy and silent. It’s rarely used. I didn’t realize Father Timothy would be hearing a confession and I was fast asleep. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late to leave.”

Nero’s whiskers twitched. He moved closer to Juliette. “What did you hear?”

Juliette’s eyes took on a faraway look as her mind worked to conjure up the conversation. “It was a woman, and she was confessing how regretful it was that she was forced to betray those close to her.”

Eight

I let myself in through the back door in the kitchen of the guesthouse shortly before supper, loaded with bags of ingredients for the peanut-butter-banana bread I was planning to make that night. Millie had said that loaf cakes were the easiest thing to bake, so I was going to trust her on that. I needed something easy. And even though my first few attempts at baking had turned out as hard as hockey pucks, I was still hopeful.

I’d barely gotten the ingredients on the counter when I heard a ruckus in the parlor. The Biddefords were at it again. I figured now would be a good time to talk to them about digging up the yard. I headed toward the parlor, passing a pile of shovels in the foyer on the way. Flora was going to have a fit. Shovels brought in dirt and she barely vacuumed as it was.

“It’s not my fault theShmithsh canceled the order for twenty miniaturecheesh cashtles,” Paula slurred.

“Well it certainly isn’t mine,” Carla said.

“Children!” Doris yelled. “It’s not anybody’s fault. Things happen in business. All this infighting is making things worse.”

“You can say that again,” Earl said.

Just as I suspected, the entire family was dressed for digging—old jeans, T-shirts. Earl and Arlene’s were of the designer variety, of course. Doris even had mud on her feet. I glanced out the window. Had she already started digging?

“Ahem.” They hadn’t noticed me lurking in the doorway, so I cleared my throat to capture their attention. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring dirty shovels into the house. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t dig up the yard, either.”

Doris hurried over to me.“Don’t you worry, dear. We’ll fill the holes back in. We’re just looking for the treasure buried by our ancestor.” Doris glanced behind her for confirmation and the others nodded.

“Yeah. We won’t disrupt your property or anything,” Bob said.

I gazed at them skeptically then back at the shovels. Earl saw me looking and hastily added,“We’ll keep the shovels in that old carriage house so the guesthouse doesn’t get dirty.”

He pointed toward the dilapidated building that had been a carriage house when the mansion was in service. Even though it was overgrown with vines and needed a paint job badly, Mike had assured me it was still safe when I’d bought the place. At least if they kept their shovels there that would keep most of the dirt out.

But there was something else bothering me. It was the way Doris had saidour ancestorin reference to the treasure. It made me wonder, if there really was any treasure, then who actually owned it? Wouldn’t it belong to me since I now owned the property?

I didn’t think now was a good time to bring that up; I could practically see dollar signs in the Biddefords’ eyes. Odds were against a treasure being buried out there anyway and even more odds against them finding it. I’d cross that bridge when and ifwe came to it.

Earl went to the foyer and started gathering up the shovels and I returned to the kitchen. I laid out the ingredients on the counter. Peanut butter, bananas, flour, milk, sugar, baking soda and baking powder.

I pulled the old jadeite green batter bowls from the cupboard, preheated the oven and started mixing things together. Millie would’ve been proud. Of course, when she baked, she didn’t spew flour in a ten-foot radius all around her like I did. Guess I still had plenty of room for improvement.

I kept one eye on the ingredients and the other on the yard. A movement coming from the front of the house caught my eye. It was Bob. He rushed past the window, a shovel clutched in his hand. Getting an early jump on his siblings?

He headed toward the carriage house, glancing behind him as if to make sure no one had followed.

Did Bob know something about the treasure that the others didn’t? How would they go about locating Jed’s cache, I wondered? How would they know where to dig? Were they just going to randomly dig holes? Or did they have a plan in mind?

I ladled the batter into two loaf pans. Itlooked good. I bent down and sniffed. And itsmelled good. The real test would be if ittasted good. Only one way to find out. I opened the oven and shoved them inside.

No sooner had I finished that when a loud knock on the front door echoed through the house. I brushed the flour off my hands and rushed to the front. I had no idea who it could be since the door was unlocked during the day and the guests just walked in. Maybe it was a tourist wanting to check out the place to rent a room at a later date.

I’m sure I didn’t hide my disappointment very well when I opened the door to reveal that it was Sheriff Chamberlain. Nevertheless, I invited him into the foyer.

“Hey, Josie, I just wanted to come and retrieve the police tape and markers from the crime scene.”

“You’re done with your investigation?” I asked as I led him toward the west wing.

“Yep, done as we’re gonna be.” Seth spread his hands. “I mean, what’s to investigate?”

I unlocked the door and we proceeded over to the area where the skeleton had been found. Sheriff Chamberlain pulled the crime-scene tape off the edges of the wall and picked up the yellow crime-scene markers.

“So you’re not going to go figure out who killed him?” I asked. I know the guy was killed a long time ago, but it didn’t seem right not to bring his killer to justice, even if we couldn’t arrest them and bring them to trial.

Seth leveled a look at me.“Josie. There would be no suspects to interrogate. We’re not even sure who the victim was though it probably was Jedediah. We researched his whereabouts. We know he went to Europe and supposedly never came back but his death was never recorded over there either.”

“Did they record deaths back then?”

What if Jed had fallen into the sea on the way back or something? Surely someone had written something down? But if it wasn’t Jed in the wall, then who was it?

Seth shrugged.“They did record deaths back then, but if he died alone somewhere and they didn’t know who he was, his name wouldn’t be on any death certificates, so…” Seth shrugged and let his voice trail off.

“I guess you have a point. There’s not much to go on after all this time, but you’d think his relatives would want closure.”

“So far not one of them have come to me for it,” Seth said. “I mean, it’s not like any of them actually knew the guy and I don’t want to take up valuable police resources on an investigation that no one cares about.”

What else did the police have to do? There wasn’t much crime in Oyster Cove. But given the way the Biddefords were acting about the treasure and the fact that the whole town had bought shovels, a police presence might be needed in my very own backyard in the not-too-distant future.

I glanced out the window, my brow furrowing as I saw a form in the shrubbery. A form with a shovel. Thankfully it wasn’t dead. Paula lay curled up under the azalea bush like an innocent child—if innocent children passed out from drinking and hugged shovels in their sleep. As I watched, her nose twitched—that’s how I knew she was alive.

“Yeah I guess they’re pretty far removed. So that’s it then? Case closed?” I asked.

Seth put the last of the police equipment into a bag and turned to the door.“Yep. The room is officially cleared and you can start working in here again.”

Good thing I’d given Ed the rest of the day off. He’d resisted going home, puttering around the grounds instead, but I knew he hadn’t started in the conservatory yet. This way I could just have him continue in the ballroom. I’d told him he needn’t stay but I kept seeing him around and whenever I asked him why he hadn’t left he simply said he was tending to “this and that”. I guess he felt guilty about going home since I’d given him the day off with pay. Call me an old softy but I knew he was supplementing his social-security income and I didn’t want him to miss a day’s pay just because someone had shoved a body inside my wall three centuries ago.

My phone chirped, and I pulled it out of my pocket. A bright spot in the day! It was my daughter Emma. I couldn’t help but smile. Emma lived halfway across the country and I didn’t get to see her often, so her phone calls were like balm for my soul. I loved hearing stories about her job. She’d recently started working at the FBI, so I figured she would get a kick out of the skeleton story.

“Gram told me you found another dead body,” Emma said as soon as I answered the phone.

Leave it to my mother to spread distorted news as fast as she could. Emma and my mom were close, and that was a good thing, except sometimes they were a little too close. I didn’t mind so much except my mother tended to be overly dramatic and sometimes she exaggerated when she passed on information to Emma.

“Well it wasn’t exactly a body, at least it hasn’t been for quite some time.” I didn’t want Emma to worry. Or think that I was some kind of weird murderer attractor.

“Gram was a little vague.” The tone of concern in Emma’s voice squeezed my heart. It was sweet that she was worried, but it was my job to worry about her, not the other way around. That would come much later in life if I turned out like my mother, I hasten to add. “Turns out there was a skeleton buried in the wall here. Sheriff Chamberlain says he’s been dead almost three hundred years.”

“No kidding. Gram said something about treasure, too.” Emma’s concern turned to excitement. That’s good, it meant she wouldn’t be worried about me.

“Apparently there was some curse about the treasure and now the whole town is going crazy thinking they are going to find it in the yard here.”

“Oh, that sounds messy. What about the investigation?” Emma asked. She’d always been interested in investigations, so it was no surprise when she’d gone to college to study criminology and then jumped at the FBI’s job offer upon graduation. Who knew her mother would end up with a dead body and an old skeleton in her guesthouse? Maybe the abundance of homicides would make her want to move to town. We could use her help if dead bodies continued to crop up.

“There won’t be one. Sheriff Chamberlain pointed out that there are no suspects still alive and no one to arrest. They aren’t even a hundred-percent sure who the victim is.”

“Hmm… still seems like one should get to the bottom of what happened. Maybe he should send it to a forensic anthropologist or something and have them look into it. I could hook him up, but there’s probably a backlog.”

“I could mention it to him. No one here seems interested in it though. Not even the dead guy’s family.”

“Oh, right. They’re staying at the guesthouse. Were they upset?”

“Hardly. More like excited once they concluded the discovery of the skeleton meant his treasure could still be buried outside.” I peered out the window to see if any digging had started. Thankfully not yet. Paula was still asleep in the shrub.

“So things are going good otherwise?”

“Fabulous.”

“And Uncle Tommy’s friend, Mike? How are things going with him?” Emma’s voice held a hint of mischief and hopefulness.

That must have been my mother exaggerating again.“He hasn’t written me up for any building code violations yet.”

“Gram implied he might be inspecting more than just the guesthouse…”

“Gram implies a lot of things that are not correct. There’s nothing going on.” I put that to rest as soon as possible. The last thing I needed was my daughter digging into my love life. Or lack thereof.

“Well if there was, I think that would be great. I mean, I love Dad and everything, but you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, honey, I’m glad you feel that way.” At least if I ever did start dating, Emma wouldn’t be one of those adult children who protested their mother ever being with anyone but their father. It made me wonder how she felt about Clive’s many lady friends. A pang of jealousy surfaced. Did Emma like them? Then again, how could she get to know any of them? His bedroom had a revolving door. I assumed Clive still liked to have several on reserve just like he had when we were married.

I started toward the foyer. The Biddefords had agreed to keep the shovels in the carriage house, but I wanted to make sure the entranceway stayed clear and clean. I didn’t want any prospective guests thinking I ran a dirty show here. The shovels were all gone, but clumps of dirt remained. I’d have to clean those up, Lord knew Flora wouldn’t do it.

“So how are things with you?” I asked to move the conversation away from me and Mike.

“Fabulous…” Emma proceeded to tell me about what was going on in her life while I got the broom and dustpan out of the pantry. I was glad that she was settling in to her adult life. She was healthy, had friends and a good social life and was happy at work. It was all a mother could ask. Now, if I could just getmy mother to stop worrying her about dead bodies and getting her hopes up about romantic prospects, things would be great.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

As I cleaned up the mess, I mused about how quickly Flora had trained me to do pretty much everything on my own. Honestly, I had wondered more than once if I should keep her on. But she was a great-grandmother on social security. She needed the money. Besides, Millie had said that Flora had provided decades of loyal service to the guesthouse and that counted for something. And she did dosome of the cleaning. Besides, the dirt was easy to clean up, just a few swoops into the dustpan and it was gone.

I heard a door open upstairs and glanced through the railing to the hallway out of habit. The front foyer was large and had a grand staircase that opened to a gallery hallway that looked down on the foyer. I saw Flora’s orthopedic shoes coming out of the middle room.

Surprise, surprise, she’d actually been cleaning the rooms!

Not wanting to disturb Flora if she was in a room-cleaning mood, I started back toward the pantry with my dustpan full of dirt.

“Oh, there you are.”

I spun around to see that Arlene had snuck up on me. She had a sour look on her face. I half expected to see a shovel clutched in her hands but they were empty. The smell of Chanel No. 5 wafted around her so strongly it almost gave me an asthma attack.

“Can I help you?” I asked, stepping back out of range of her perfume.

She made a face.“Well, I certainly hope so. The accommodations… our room… it’s deplorable!”

“How so?” I thought the rooms at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse were quite nice. They were loaded with antiques, decorated in lovely colors with wallpaper and rugs suitable to the time-period and had been all redone less than five years prior.

“Our room hasn’t been cleaned. We’d appreciate it if you could send up the maid. I don’t believe she’s been in there since we arrived.” Arlene made a big production out of sneezing. “I’m allergic to dirt and soot you know.”

Maybe she should back off on the perfume dousing. I was willing to bet that was what was making her sneeze. But I knew better than to argue with the guests. The customer was always right. Besides, I’d just seen Flora come out of her room so I was sure it would be at least a little bit cleaner when she went back.

“I’ll have it cleaned right away.” Sometimes it was beneficial to let guests think they’d bossed you around.

She huffed and turned to leave, practically bowling over Doris.

“What are you doing?” Doris looked at her suspiciously. “Are you pumping Josie for information on likely places where the treasure might be buried?”

Arlene looked her motherin-law up and down. No love lost there, I sensed.“Hardly. I’m just trying to get our room cleaned. I doubt there even is any treasure.”

“Ha! Then you don’t need to dig for it.” Doris watched Arlene walk away then turned to me. “Say, you wouldn’t have happened to find anything like an old map or any indication in the house of where the treasure could be?”

“No.” Hadn’t Millie mentioned an old book about the history of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse that she wanted for the table at the town celebration? Might that have some clue? Not that I believed in the treasure, but it might be worthwhile to browse through it. Of course, I wasn’t going to mention that to Doris.

“Dang. Well, if you think of anything speak up.”

“Oh, I will.”

Movement outside caught my eye and I glanced out the narrow window beside the door where Bob was rushing by with a shovel.

“Those darn nincompoops. I told him to wait until dark,” Doris said.

“Dark? Then how would you see what you’re digging?” I asked.

“Headlamps.”

“Speaking of digging, I want to make sure there’re not a lot of holes in the ground. I don’t want a liability issue.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. We’re gonna fill them in just like we said. And we’ll put the shovels in the carriage house and wipe our feet so we don’t track dirt in.”

“I hope you will.” I showed her the dirt in the dustpan. “You’ve already tracked quite a bit in. And I still think it might be smarter to dig in daylight.”

Doris shook her head.“Nah. If they did that, then each one would see where the other one was digging.”

“You mean they’d steal the treasure from each other?”

Doris sighed.“Sadly, I think they would. I mean, they are my children and I love them, but they have their faults.”

“All kids do.”

“I made them make a pact that we’d share the treasure but I’m not so sure they’ll stick to it. They haven’t played nice together since they were toddlers. Take the cheese-sculpture business, for example. My husband Barney and I built that up from nothing. We started off whittling Wisconsin cheddar and ended with sculpting masterpieces of Gruy?re.”

I nodded with empathy even though I wanted to get back to the kitchen and throw away the dustpan full of dirt I was holding.

“Once Barney was gone, the kids took over. Big mistake. Turns out that when you inherit a business you don’t take as much care as when you build it up. You don’t work as hard. I’m afraid things are going downhill.” Doris flopped into a chair and I suddenly felt sorry for her.

As if proving her point, Bob’s voice wafted down from above. He was arguing with someone, but we couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying or who he was arguing with.

“See what I mean?” Doris pointed up.

“Well, siblings always fight and hopefully things will pick up with the business,” I assured her, for lack of anything better to say.

“If we found the treasure it sure would. ’Course, I doubt any of my kids would actually use the money for the business.” Her eyes turned steely. “But I would. In fact, I’d do just about anything to get some extra cash flow to save it. Barney would have wanted that.”

If the treasure actually belongs to you, I thought. Again, I didn’t see the point of voicing that opinion. No sense in pissing off paying guests over something that was unlikely to happen.

She sighed and pushed up from the chair.“Anyway, I don’t know how those kids turned out all wrong. I tried my best.” Doris made a face, her eyes crinkling and her nose twitching as she sniffed. “What’s that smell? Is something burning in the kitchen?”

Nine

I rushed back to the kitchen to see smoke billowing from the oven. Luckily I had the presence of mind to grab some oven mitts before ripping open the door. I used the mitts to fan the smoke away from my face as I bent down to inspect my loaf cakes that now resembled shrunken dried-out old leather. I pulled them out and slapped both on the counter, then waved frantically and prayed the sprinkler system the previous town building inspector had made me put in didn’t go off and soak everything.

I rushed over to open the back door to let out some of the smoke. It was getting dark and I could barely make out the moonlit ocean and the silhouette of the Smugglers Bay Inn beyond the tiny little lights that danced over my yard like fireflies. Except they weren’t fireflies. They were little flashlights in the hands of the people digging up the yard.

And it was a lot more than just the Biddefords.

I squinted into the night. Who was out there? My mom, for one. I saw her by the old oak tree jabbing her shovel into the earth. Leave it to Mom, that was probably a good spot for buried treasure. Didn’t pirates always bury their treasure under a tree?

Doris Biddeford was now out there too, digging in the mound of the hill we thought was an old bottle dump. Another good location.

But the number of flashlights indicated there were a lot more than just my mom and the Biddefords digging. Just how many people were out there?

I stepped on to the stairs and a shadowy figure ran by my feet. Nero. He darted over to the old rose arbor and started digging. Apparently even the cats wanted in on the treasure hunt.

Darn! Was that a light bobbing over from the Smugglers Bay Inn? Even Stella was getting in on this crazy treasure hunt. And was that figure around the edge of the property Myron Remington? The town’s richest banker wanted a chance at buried treasure, too.

What was wrong with people? More interested in treasure than finding out who had killed Jedediah Biddeford or how he ended up in the wall? And howhad he ended up in there? Had he really brought treasure back and then someone killed him for it? And if so, wouldn’t that person have taken the treasure? All these people were on a fool’s errand. No treasure existed in my yard, I was sure of it. But maybe I should go out and dig, too… just in case.

I considered it for a second until a whiff of burned peanut-butter-banana bread reminded me that I had more important things to do. I needed to mix up another batch of batter and get it in the oven and figure out what to cook for breakfast the next morning. I didn’t have time to go on any treasure hunts.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Nero stopped sharpening his claws on the soft rotted wood of the old rose arbor and sniffed the air.“What is that noxious odor?”

“Smells like burned bananas.” Marlowe’s eyes flicked to the kitchen window. “Josie must be baking again.”

Nero sighed.“I do hope she can master that. Millie is right, the guests do want good food.”

“But if she doesn’t, maybe Millie will come over more often and help her?”

“That would be good, but Millie needs to have her fun too. Can’t expect her to bake for the guests every day. Josie needs to learn.”

“I suppose.” Marlowe’s eyes reflected gold in the light of the moon as she watched the people walking around the yard with their shovels and flashlights. “Silly humans. I could have told them nothing is buried here. I know. I sniffed the entire estate.”

“Me too.” Nero watched the other cat closely. “But did you discover anything interesting while you were sniffing?”

Marlowe jerked her head back to look at Nero.“Interesting? No. There is no treasure, I assure you.”

Nero washed behind his left ear. See? The other cat still had a lot to learn.“Not treasure, true…”

“What, then?”

“Nefarious intent and betrayal. I smelled it on the searchers. Someone is thinking dark thoughts.”

Marlowe looked back at the searchers.“Do you think that has anything to do with the confession Juliette overheard?”

“Perhaps.”

“And do you think it has something to do with the guests here?”

“Likely. They do have issues. The mother made them swear that they would split the treasure, but I think some of them want to take it for themselves.”

“I think all of them want to. But since there is no treasure, there will be no problem there.”

“No.” Nero stopped washing and watched the lights bobbing in the yard. He was going to have a heck of a job early tomorrow morning checking the grounds and filling in any holes the diggers had forgotten to fill. He didn’t want to leave any open for someone to trip into. That might reflect badly on the guesthouse. “I think we need to watch them carefully though. There is dissension in the ranks.”

“I’ll say,” Marlowe agreed. “Weird bunch. Not even interested in the old bones of their ancestor. I must say, I’m a bit disappointed that the police have dropped the case.”

“Me too. But you know we sniffed that wall for hours and not one clue. Not one old scent. Nothing.”

“I know.” Marlowe’s voice dripped with disappointment.

Nero glanced back to see Josie’s silhouette moving around in the kitchen window. Hopefully she was mixing up something that would be suitable for the town celebration. “Looks like Josie has her hands full in the kitchen. We’ll need to watch these diggers carefully. It’s up to us to make sure the guests don’t leave theyard in a shambles… or do something even worse.”

Ten

I slept like a log. You’d think I would have tossed and turned, what with the discovery of a skeleton in my wall and half the town digging up my yard, but stress always made me sleepy. I’d fallen asleep with the cats snuggled against me in the bed around midnight only to jerk awake one minute before my alarm went offat seven. I rushed downstairs to get breakfast ready. Luckily, I’d picked out something that I could whip together quickly.

I got bacon and sausages going on the stove. Those were the mainstays of a good breakfast as far as I was concerned. And, of course, given the Biddefords love of pancakes, I whipped up some batter. I might have put in too much sugar—I mean the one tablespoon in the recipe hardly seemed like enough—but hopefully they wouldn’t notice. I quickly diced up some fruit and put it in Millie’s great-grandma’s cut-glass boat-shaped fruit bowl. That always made a great presentation.

Now for omelets. I set some butter heating in a few pans, then beat together some eggs, water, salt and pepper. Was I supposed to be paying attention to the ratio? The mixture looked okay, so I poured it into the pans. Now what? I tilted the pans so the egg mixture coated the bottom and waited until it looked like it was cooking and tossed in some ham and cheese I’d chopped the night before. Hmm… it looked like it needed something else. I rummaged in the fridge and pulled out some spinach. A little greenery always adds a nice touch. I threw it in at the last minute. Hmmm… shouldn’t it get wilty? I didn’t have time to wait for that.

For once I had timed things perfectly and it was ready by the time I heard the Biddefords stirring upstairs.

I rushed it into the dining room where coffee was already percolating in the old-fashioned urn. Say what you will about Flora but at least she always put on the coffee. That was probably because she wanted some herself, but I wasn’t about to complain.

The Biddefords shuffled in and filled their mugs. Good thing I’d remembered to put out Carla’s Yale mug. She looked like she was in a bad mood and I didn’t want to suffer her wrath. In fact, they all looked a little worse for wear. No doubt they’d been up late digging.

I glanced outside at the yard but true to their word they’d filled in the holes, though the grass looked a little ratty. I had to admit my landscaping hadn’t been that great to begin with. Apparently no one had dug up treasure because they weren’t celebrating.

“No treasure last night?” I asked as they filled their plates and took their seats at the long table.

“Not for lack of trying, though.” Doris shoved a forkful of pancakes into her mouth and chewed. Then she glanced around the table suspiciously at her children. “I mean, one of you didn’t find it, did you?”

Paula hiccupped and shook her head, looking at her mother with big, innocent eyes over her coffee mug. Her face was still scratched from the shrub she’d fallen asleep in the day before.

“Well I certainly didn’t,” Carla said. “But maybe someone else did?” She glanced across the table at Bob’s empty seat.

Doris followed her gaze.“Where is Bob? Has anyone seen him?”

Earl shrugged.“I didn’t hear him moving around in his room. Maybe he’s sleeping in. Knowing Bob, he was the last one up digging. He always did try to one-up the rest of us.”

Carla’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think he found the treasure and took off with it, do you?”

“Where would he go and how would he get there? We only have three rental cars between us and they are all in the driveway.” Earl looked at me. “Bob didn’t leave in a taxi or anything early this morning, did he?”

I shook my head.

“I’m just glad we don’t have to share the pancakes,” Henry said as he raised a forkful of golden pancakes dripping with syrup.

I smiled pleasantly. At least no one had said the pancakes were too sweet. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying them. Maybe I was onto something with the extra sugar.

Mereeoow.

The sound came from outside, and it wasn’t the cat’s normal meow. It sounded panicked. My heart jerked. Had an animal gotten them? I rushed over to the window, shoving aside the sheer blind that was fluttering in the breeze and looked out.

I didn’t see any cats. Nor did I hear any more panicked meowing. I scanned the yard, then the field, but the only movement was a lobster boat motoring around in the cove picking up traps and a few seagulls circling above it.

I turned back to the room in time to see Paula spit out some omelet. Gross.

“What’s the matter with you?” Doris asked.

Paula made a face.“The spinach in there is weird.”

Arlene nodded and pinched up a spinach leaf between her thumb and forefinger and held it up.“They’re supposed to be wilted. This isn’t cooked.” She leveled a look at me.

Who knew you were supposed to put them in sooner so they cooked all the way?

“It’s a new thing. More healthy this way. A lot of the vitamins are lost when you cook it.” I had no idea if it was true, but I thought I’d recovered quite nicely.

“I heard that the sheriff came by yesterday,” Doris said.

“Yes, he cleared the crime scene.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“Not much more than what we learned yesterday, but he did think it was Jedediah Biddeford.”

“Huh, go figure. I knew it was him.” Doris looked round the table. “Should we have a funeral?”

The kids shook their heads.

“Who would pay for that?” Arlene asked.

“Good point,” Doris said. “Maybe we could make a cheese sculpture in his honor. I mean, it’s not like we knew him. No sense in spending money on a funeral when there are no friends or family to attend.”

“Maybe just have him buried in the old family cemetery.” Paula had a Baileys Irish Cream nip in her hand and was pouring it on the pancakes.

“Well that would be up to Josie. She owns it now.” Doris raised a brow in my direction.

The old Biddeford family cemetery was at the west edge of the property. I’d seen the moss-covered slabs ringed with a black wrought-iron fence once when Millie had taken me back to show me some of the acreage. It was overgrown and barely accessible and I was sure no one had been buried there in two hundred years.

“I guess it’s okay. I don’t think they actually bury people in old family plots like that anymore, do they?”

Doris shrugged and then she laughed.“Maybe we can do it ourselves. We have shovels.”

“Speaking of which, we put the shovels away in the carriage house like you wanted, Josie,” Earl said.

“Thank you.”

A movement outside caught my eye. It was Mike Sullivan. I’d forgotten he was coming to inspect an old toolshed that I’d had Ed replace the roof on. I was looking into hiring someone to work on the landscaping and they’d need a place to store the tools. I watched as he headed down the path.

Merow!

This time it sounded like the same high-pitched caterwauling that had happened when they’d found the skeleton. If I wasn’t mistaken, the noise was coming from the direction in which Mike was heading. Mike was good with cats, if something was wrong he would help them.

“I hate to be a complainer,” Arlene said, inspecting her fingernails for dirt—not that dirt would dare stick to her, “but I would appreciate it if we could get some maid service in our room. It’s still dirty like I told you yesterday.”

I bit back a sarcastic remark. Arlene was the type that was never happy. I’d seen Flora in there cleaning, so I knew it had been cleaned. Then again, Flora wasn’t the best cleaner so maybe I should go in myself and make sure it was spotless.

Merooo!

This time it was loud. Everyone looked toward the window.

“What is that?” Paula asked. “Is that those cats?”

“Yes, they meow like that sometimes.”

Doris’s eyes narrowed. “The last time they did that we found a skeleton in the wall.”

I forced a laughed.“What are the chances of that happening again?”

Doris craned to look out the window as another panicked meow drifted in.“I don’t know, but something urgent must be going on out there. Look.” She pointed and I tilted my head so I could see what she was pointing at.

It was Mike Sullivan and he was running toward the house.

My heart jerked. Was one of the cats in trouble? Maybe one was hurt badly and he was running to call for help.

As I ran into the hallway, I heard the kitchen door whip open and Mike’s footsteps as he rushed toward the dining room.

“What is it? Are the cats okay?” The tightness in my chest made me realize how fond I’d grown of the cats. I hated the thought of one of them being hurt. Not to mention Millie would kill me if anything happened to them.

“Where’s the fire?” Doris had come out into the hall and was standing behind me. Wait, was she making a reference to my loaf cakes that kept burning?

“There’s no fire,” Mike panted. “My phone battery is dead and we need to call Seth Chamberlain. There’s a body down by the pond and it doesn’t look good.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“Well at least Mike will get the ball rolling. If we waited for Josie to understand what our different cries mean this one might turn into a skeleton too.” Nero eyed the body floating face down at the edge of the pond. Unfortunately, this body wasn’t almost three hundred years old. And even more unfortunately, it was the body of one of the guests.

“It doesn’t bode well that another one of the guests has died here.” Marlowe’s voice held a tinge of guilt.

Nero understood why the other cat felt guilty. He felt that way himself. They’d been asleep (literally) on the job a few weeks ago and a guest had been killed inside the B&B. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse was their responsibility now and being unaware that someone was being murdered, and thus not taking steps to prevent it, had weighed heavily on him. Luckily it didn’t seem like it had hurt business, but the results could have been disastrous.

And now there’d been another murder and they hadn’t prevented that one either. Hopefully this wouldn’t stain the guesthouse’s reputation.

“What’s going on? I could hear you guys all the way over at the Smugglers Bay Inn where I was under the deck looking for handouts.” Poe pushed his way through the shrubs.

“Yeah and you interrupted my nap in the morning sun.” Juliette ducked under a pine bough, her eyes growing wide when she saw the body.

“Oh… You’ve got a floater.” Stubbs appeared from a small path that led up to the cliffs.

“Yeah, guess we messed up again,” Marlowe said.

“Is it one of the guests?” Boots trotted to the edge of the pond and proceeded to inspect the body.

Nero sighed.“I’m afraid so.”

“Hey, don’t feel bad.” Harry picked a burr from his fur. “It’s not like you can watch over every piece of the property.”

“Yeah and this place was crawling with people last night,” Juliette said.

“Tell me about it.” Nero watched as Boots trotted gingerly around the body, taking care not to disturb anything. He’d already done his own inspection, but valued the others’ opinions, even if Boots could act a bit uppity at times. “Were you guys here last night? Did you see any odd behavior from the humans?”

“Sorry, I was at the rectory all night,” Juliette said.

“I wasn’t here either, but people were acting weird all over town,” Harry said. “Treasure fever.”

“You think it was a townie who did it?” Poe asked.

Boots had finished with the body and come back to the others now standing at the edge of the clearing. They knew the humans would be there soon and wanted to blend into the background. It wouldn’t do to have the humans suspect they were actually investigating.

“That’s doubtful,” Boots said. “Who would have motive? Makes more sense that one of the other guests did it since they know each other.”

“Of course.” Nero regretted the huffy tone in his voice, but it did get tedious when Boots stated the obvious as if he was the only one who would think of it. The other cat raised a brow at him, preening his long whiskers.

“I’ve had a gut feeling that something was going on with the guests,” Nero said.

“This is good news,” Harry said.

“Not so much for the body,” Poe replied.

“Oh sorry, yeah. What I meant was this is a fresh case. One we can really sink our claws into.”

“First we start with the family members,” Juliette said.

Marlowe nodded.“They smell sneaky.”

“And a bit like Swiss cheese,” Nero said. “They’ve been arguing a lot too. Especially with the victim.”

“We should check out their things. One of them might have evidence,” Harry said.

“Do you think they have any of those cheese sculptures in their rooms?” Stubbs’s pink tongue darted out and licked his lips.

“No, I checked,” Marlowe said. “Most I found was a few crumbs of Camembert.”

“It might have something to do with that confession I overheard. It was a woman. And she mentioned something about betraying someone close to her,” Juliette said.

“Not necessarily a family member, though,” Boots pointed out. “One must use their superior feline brain cells to interpret the meaning of the clues.”

Stubbs made a face.“Clues schmues. This guy was hit over the head with a shovel. They were digging for treasure. My bet is that he found something and someone wanted it. A fight ensued and the killer clonked him over the head and took the treasure for their own.”

“Well it wasn’t this shovel.” Boots gestured toward a shovel that lay next to the body. “There is no blood on the end.”

“If the killer did steal the treasure, then someone is a little bit richer today. Maybe we should see who is spending more money,” Poe said.

“Or hiding it in their rooms.” Nero made a mental note to do a thorough inspection later.

The wail of a siren split the air and the cats shrunk back into the tall grass at the edge of the clearing. Now they could hear the pounding of footsteps and the shouts as the humans came running from the house.

“The humans are coming. Are you all sure you’ve checked the scene for clues? Once the humans come even the most subtle of clues will be obfuscated with weird smells and bumbling footsteps.”

“I have what I need.” Boots preened his whiskers.

“I’m good,” Stubbs said.

“Ditto.” Harry picked another burr out of his long fur.

“Me too,” Juliette said.

“Good because the humans are going to need our help, especially Josie,” Nero said. “We know about the confession and the argument about the secret book Marlowe and I overheard, but Josie doesn’t have that advantage.”

“Yeah,” Marlowe added as the humans rushed out of the path practically falling all over each other. “And we better make it fast, before our dear Josie is accused of murder. Again.”

Eleven

The pond was on the west edge of the property, too far to be visible from the house. Mike led us down a brambly path to the small muddy body of water. I supposed it had once been a lovely pond. Now, the rotted remnants of a wooden bench with a bush growing through it marred its appearance. The body, laying face down at the water’s edge with the shovel beside it, was a bit of a detractor as well. Even though he was face down, I was certain that it was Bob Biddeford.

Nestled into the overgrowth on the other side of the pond were Nero and Marlowe. They weren’t alone. Several other cats were crouched near them. A lovely fluffy Maine Coon that looked like it needed brushing, the gray cat with white on its forehead that I recognized as Father Timothy’s, an orange-striped one with a stubby tail, another gray cat, this one with shorter fur, and a blackcat with white paws that had a know-it-all look on its face.

To my relief, Marlowe and Nero looked fine. Their alarming cries must have been to alert us to the body. This was the second time they’d done that. I guess I’d have to pay more attention to their meows in the future.

Doris’s hands flew up to her face. “No! Is that Bobby?”

Paula went over to look at the body, her heel getting stuck in the mud and causing her to stumble a bit. She crouched down, peering at the body but staying a distance away. She sucked in a breath then turned a sad face to her mother.“I’m afraid so.”

I glanced over at Mike. I figured he wouldn’t let anyone get too close. Rule No. 1 at a crime scene was don’t mess with it.

Before Mike could say anything, though, Earl rushed over and grabbed onto Bob’s ankle, trying to pull him out of the water even though we all knew it was too late.

Mike lunged for Earl and pulled him back.“Don’t touch him. This is a crime scene. We need to leave it just like this for the police.”

As if on cue, the sound of sirens split the air.

“Crime scene? Maybe he just fell in,” Carla said. She’d gone over to console Doris and she, Doris and Paula stood in a circle, their arms around each other. Arlene stood off to the side appearing to be disinterested. Henry stood back, his arms over his chest, watching the family.

“Maybe it was the ghost,” Doris said.

Earl jerked his head in her direction.“Ghost? You don’t really think…” He swiveled his head back to look at Bob, his expression pensive as if he were considering the possibility that Jed’s ghost had killed his brother. It was doubtful. I didn’t know of any ghosts that could bash someone’s head in, which is what had clearly happened to Bob.

“What do you suppose he was doing over here?” Carla asked.

“Looking for treasure like the rest of us, of course,” Doris said.

Mike frowned down at the body.“Yeah and I wonder if he found it and that’s how he ended up in the pond.”

“Maybe he just tripped and fell in by accident?” Henry said hopefully.

Mike glanced at me. Judging by the way the back of Bob’s head was flattened, it didn’t seem like he had fallen in by accident. And besides, who could drown in only a few inches of water without help? Unless he’d been getting into Paula’s nips, he would’ve just picked himself up, brushed himself off and continued along the way.

I glanced at the cats. It was clear by the way Nero was looking at me that he didn’t think it was an accident either.

The grass rustled behind us and we all turned to see my mother and Millie bursting out of the narrow path that led to the pond.

“See, what did I tell you, Josie’s got another body!” Millie sounded almost excited. Then she looked around at the Biddefords, her face dropping. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it one of the guests?”

Nero and Marlowe sprang into action upon seeing Millie and darted over to rub against her ankles. The other cats pulled back further into the overgrowth, satisfied that they’d seen all there was to see.

“It’s Bob Biddeford,” I said.

Millie eyed the Biddefords suspiciously and whispered.“Huh, really? Family dispute?”

“I have no idea,” I whispered back.

“I heard they didn’t get along very good,” Mom said.

“Well you were both here last night, did you see anything?”

Mom and Millie shook their heads.“We didn’t think the treasure would be around here. We focused our efforts on the older side of the property.”

More rustling from the path and Sheriff Seth Chamberlain and his deputies, Johnnie Sanders and Sheila Watts, came rushing into the clearing, cutting off any other queries I had with Mom and Millie.

“What happened?” Seth asked as they started getting out their crime-scene paraphernalia.

“Mike found him down by the pond,” Millie said.

Seth turned to Mike.“What were you doing down here, Mike?”

Mike pointed toward the old toolshed, barely visible through the tall grass.“I came to inspect that. Josie had Ed do some repairs on it and it’s on my inspection list.”

Seth nodded, his eyes drifting back to the body.“Any ID on him?”

“It’s my Bobby.” Doris’s voice cracked and she dissolved into tears.

Millie hustled over to her, put her arm around her and patted her shoulder soothingly.“Now, now, dear, it’s going to be okay.”

“My guess is it has something to do with this treasure, Sheriff,” Johnnie said.

Seth nodded.“Good guess. Let’s say this Bob character found the treasure and someone saw him, then clonked him over the head and took it from him.” Seth glanced around at the ground as if looking for the hole the treasure might’ve come out of.

“Who would do that?” Carla asked.

I didn’t say a word, but the way I looked over the Biddeford family might have given away my suspicions. Seth wasn’t privy to their family dynamics though. I’d have to let him find out for himself. But even though they argued a lot, killing your own brother—or son—was a whole different matter. Surely none of the Biddefords would stoop to murder?

“Just about anyone in town,” Sheila shot over her shoulder from where she was crouched down in the muck beside the body taking pictures.

Seth nodded.“I heard a lot of people were out here last night. That true, Josie?”

“Well, I didn’t see everyone who was out here, but there were a lot of flashlights,” I said.

“Really?” Seth raised a brow at me. “And where were you?”

“I was inside preparing the breakfast for this morning,” I said.

“And what about all your guests?”

“They were outside digging for treasure,” I said. “Along with the rest of the town.”

“It was dark, Sheriff, and hard to see who was who,” Johnnie said. “There were people all over the place.”

“Is that so? How would you know that, Johnnie?”

Johnnie’s expression turned sheepish. “Well, I might’ve come here. The wife dragged me along.”

Seth pressed his lips together.“Kinda odd. Two dead bodies here in two days. That seems a little suspicious to me, Josie.”

Millie fisted her hands on her hips.“Now that’s technically not true. The first one was a skeleton and he was put in there years ago, nothing to do with any of us here. If you keep twisting the truth like that, Seth Chamberlain, I won’t bake you that apple pie I promised for the town celebration.”

Seth’s eyes twinkled and he looked at Millie fondly, but I could tell the threat of her withholding the apple pie was real. “You might be right, but still that doesn’t negate the fact that bodies seem to keep showing up at the guesthouse ever since you sold it to Josie.”

Meow!

Nero, who had trotted over to join us earlier, voiced his disagreement. Good kitty. He and Marlowe were now sitting on their haunches in our circle and it appeared as if they were listening intently to everything we were saying.

“All right, I guess we will have to talk to each one of you and see if I can piece together Bob’s activities last night.” Seth walked over to take a closer look at the body. “Josie, you didn’t notice that he didn’t come in? Looks like he’s been here all night.”

“No, like I said, I was preparing the breakfast and then I went to bed early. I don’t know what time people came and went.”

Seth glanced over at the Biddefords.“Anyone see Bob last night?”

“Bob’s an adult. We don’t keep track of him,” Carla said.

“Besides, we were all too busy minding our own business and looking for our own treasure,” Arlene added.

“I might’ve seen something.”Hiccup. Paula weaved on her feet.

Seth turned to face her. The look on his face told me he wasn’t going to put much stock into what she had to say and, frankly, I couldn’t blame him. I mean Ihad seen her sleeping in the bushes yesterday so she must have been soused.

“What did you see?” Seth asked.

She fidgeted.“Well, from the angle I was positioned in, it’s kind of hard to say.”

“Angle? Where were you?”

Her cheeks flushed and she pointed back toward the trail.“I was tired, so I took a little rest on that stone bench at the beginning of the trail that leads down here.”

“On the bench?” Arlene snorted. “I think I saw youunder the bench.”

Paula straightened.“I might’ve taken a little nap but that doesn’t mean I didn’t see anything. You can see things from laying on the ground as easy as you can from sitting on the bench.”

“Okay so out with it. What did you see?” asked Seth.

“Well, I mean, it woke me up. I was a little groggy and down at that level you see different things.” She glanced over at the body. “My memory is fuzzy but I’m sure I saw someone coming from the direction of the pond.”

“Who?” Doris asked as the Biddefords eyed each other with suspicion.

Paula paused dramatically. I think she was enjoying the attention. Given the fact that she was probably drunk most of the time this might have been one of the few occasions anyone paid any notice to what she had to say.“That maid. You know, the one who doesn’t really clean anything.”

“Flora?” Millie looked at her incredulously. “Little short thing with round glasses?”

Paula crossed her arms over her chest and nodded emphatically.“Yep, that’s the one. I saw her coming right down this path and she was walking pretty fast as if she was rushing away from the scene of a crime.”

Twelve

Seth made everyone go back to the house. The Biddefords settled into the parlor and I brought them some tea and cookies. The Biddeford siblings didn’t appear overly upset seeing as they’d just lost their brother. Doris, on the other hand, was appropriately distraught. She kept wringing her hands and wailing about her baby. Paula did her best to comfort her mother.

Mom and Millie hung out in the kitchen with Mike. Millie was irate that Seth would even consider suspecting Flora. Speaking of which, where was Flora? I hadn’t seen her all morning.

The cats had followed us into the house and were settled in Millie and Mike’s laps.

“Sunshine, are you okay?” Mike placed Marlowe down on the floor much to the chagrin of the cat and came over to stand next to me.

“Of course I’m okay. I’m not some delicate flower like Stella Dumont who needs a man to coddle me.” Maybe my words came out a little sharper than I meant them, but I was a grown woman who had already proven that she was self-sufficient. And truth was I was still upset over how Mike had insisted I shouldn’t investigate the last time we found a body. It was as if he thought I wasn’t competent. Well, the joke was on him because I’d figured out who the killer was last time and I could do it again.

“Now I know what you girls are thinking.” He looked over at Mom and Millie then glanced back at me. “There’s no sense for you to go investigating this on your own. Murderers are dangerous.”

See? I knew he was going to say that! Mom and I exchanged an eye-roll.

“Dangerous schmangerous.” Millie jumped up from her seat. “Someone has accused Flora and I won’t stand for it. She’s practically family and has been here as long as I can remember. And she’s a good, hard-working woman with dozens of grandchildren!”

Mike glanced at me as if looking for help. I shook my head.“If I feel like investigating, I’m going to.”

“I’m a trained investigator, guys,” Mike said. “If you want to investigate something you can ask me to do it for you. But we really should all leave the investigating to the police.”

“I don’t think we need you to do our dirty work for us.” I glanced at Mom and Millie, who nodded.

“We’ve investigated plenty,” Mom said.

“Yeah, what do you think we were doing while you were still in the navy?” Millie asked. “Got a pretty good track record, too, don’t we, Rose?”

“Yeah,we know what we’re doing. Josie here is the amateur,” Mom said.

“Hey!” I bristled at her comment. Had she forgotten that I’d figured out who killed the last guest who had turned up dead? Sometimes nothing I did was good enough for my mother.

Seth appeared in the doorway and Millie scowled at him, taking the tray of cookies she had brought over from the counter and putting them away for emphasis.

“Have you seen Flora?” Seth asked.

“She’s probably cleaning, as is her duty.” Millie’s posture was stiff and she avoided eye contact. “Now you know that nice little old lady couldn’t have killed anyone.”

Seth appeared visibly upset that Millie was cross with him. His sad gaze flicked to the cookies. His voice softened.“Now, Millie, you know I need to follow all the rules. I just want to question her.”

“Question who?” Flora appeared in the doorway that led up the back stairs with a mop in her hand.

“I was just looking for you, Flora,” Seth said.

“Oh really? What for Sheriff?” She looked around, noticing the grim looks on our faces. “What’s going on?”

“Someone was killed on the grounds last night,” Millie said.

Flora’s brows shot up, her eyes getting even bigger behind her round glasses. She looked genuinely surprised, not that I had suspected her for a minute. “Really? Again?”

“I’m afraid so. Whacked over the head.” Mom’s comment earned a look of reproach from both Millie and Seth.

“I didn’t see nothing.” Flora opened the closet to put the mop away.

“Where were you last night?” Seth asked.

Flora turned and scowled at him.“What do you mean? I was at home.”

“Are you sure you weren’t here… Maybe digging for treasure?”

Flora’s eyes flicked from Seth to Mom to Millie.

“Digging? I already told you I didn’t see anything, what does it matter where I was?” She thrust her scrawny left arm, bent it at the elbow to make a muscle, and pointed to it with her right hand. “Does this look like an arm that could hit someone over the head hard enough to kill them?”

Seth looked at Flora uneasily.“Well, it’s hard to say.”

Flora rolled her eyes.“I don’t have time for this.” She looked at Mike. “Surely you don’t think I killed someone, do you Mr. Mike?”

As if to show their support, the cats ran over to Flora. She bent down to pet them, her knees popping and creaking. They sniffed her shoes gingerly, then rubbed their faces against her old wrinkled hands.

“Of course not, Flora. They don’t have any concrete evidence against you, do you, Sheriff?” asked Mike.

Seth sighed.“No evidence. Just that someone saw her there.”

“And who might that be?” Flora demanded.

“I can’t really give out my sources,” Seth stammered.

“Oh, come on. We all heard her say it.” Millie turned to Flora. “It was Paula.”

“The lush?” Flora waved her hand in the air. “She’s not reliable. I’ve got things to clean. When you guys have something concrete then maybe you could come and arrest me, Seth. But don’t forget I used to change your diapers and I’ve got stories to tell.” Flora grabbed a roll of paper towels from under the sink and shuffled off upstairs.

I remembered Arlene’s comments about the cleaning, so I called after her, “Could you double back into Earl and Arlene’s room and make sure it’s extra clean?”

She whirled around and scowled at me. I figured she was going to say she doesn’t clean rooms, but instead she said, “What do you mean double back? Isn’t that the green room?”

“Yes.”

“Well, for your information, I haven’t cleaned that one yet. If I had, it would be clean. I can only do one or two rooms a day, so I haven’t gotten to the green room yet. But I will.” She turned and we heard the stairs creaking as she went up.

“There you have it, Seth. Are you satisfied? Flora didn’t do it. Now why don’t you go try to dig up a real suspect,” Millie said.

Seth stared at Millie with his sad eyes for a second, then he turned to Mike.“I’m ready to take your statement.” As he and Mike started out of the room, Seth glanced over his shoulder at us. “Don’t run off. I’ll take all your statements but Mike’s first. I’m sure he has to get back to work.”

“Yes, I’m sure he does have to get back to work. He doesn’t need to hang around here andhelp us,” I said.

“Nope we can help ourselves,” Millie added, then under her breath. “And find the real killer even if the cops can’t.”

Mike shook his head and followed Seth out of the room.

Millie watched them leave then she opened the box of cookies and put them in front of us. We all took one. Snickerdoodles.“I had just baked these at home when I heard the police call on my scanner app. Lucky thing I thought to bring them. We might need them for sustenance. We need to get on top of this investigation before Flora gets into trouble.” She glanced at the doorway. “Those men think they know everything. We’ll show them.”

I bit into my cookie.“Yeah, we’re good at investigating. Do you think it has something to do with the treasure? Maybe Bob really did find it and someone killed him to take it away.” Had there been a treasure buried in this yard the whole time I’d been struggling to pay bills?

Millie scowled.“That’s just a stupid rumor. There was no hole or signs of digging near Bob and, besides, the odds of treasure being here are pretty much nil.”

“Then why were you guys out here digging last night?” I asked.

Mom and Millie laughed.“What else are we going to do? Besides, half the town was here, and it was fun seeing them all. People get up to shenanigans at night and we wanted to spy and eavesdrop.” She looked at my mom, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Did you see Myron and Stella Dumont?”

“Yeah, they looked pretty chummy over by that gazebo.” Mom glanced at me. “That should put your mind at ease, Josie.”

I frowned.“Why is that?”

Mom rolled her eyes.“A blind monkey could see that you have a thing for Mike. I know you’re still smarting about how he dumped you for Stella in high school, but it’s time to get over that now. You’re a grown woman with a daughter of your own and if Stella’s chummy with Myron that means Mike is free pickings.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. I wished my mom wouldn’t try to fix me up. It was embarrassing at my age.

“I don’t have a thing for Mike.” Okay, maybe a little thing. I had to admit, even though his constant use of my childhood nickname bugged the crap out of me, he was kind of cute and the way he seemed concerned about me did make my heart flip-flop sometimes, but the last thing on my mind was striking up a relationship, Stella Dumont or not. “I think we need to focus on finding out who killed Bob, don’t you?”

“Yeah. That’s more fun than your love life,” Millie said.

“I agree.” Mom dug a cookie out of the box. “Now, who do you think did it?”

“It’s got to be one of the family members. Did you see how Doris was the only one who seemed upset when we found him?” Millie asked.

“They don’t get along very well,” I said.

“And it’s no wonder, what with them working with cheese all those years. That would make anyone not get along,” Millie said.

“Bind you right up, too.” Mom patted her stomach and made a face.

“You ask me, I think it was that drunk one, Paula.” Millie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I heard Bob threatening her the other day.”

“You did? About what?” I asked.

“Something about her being a detriment to the company. Turns out her cheese sculptures are getting messed up because of her drinking. I overheard them arguing when we were outside digging last night. He said she should be fired from the company.”

“And she’s the one who put the finger on Flora. She might be trying to frame Flora to throw the police off track,” Mom said.

“That would make sense, but I heard Bob arguing with someone, too,” I said. “Carla.”

“About what?” Millie asked.

“I’m not exactly sure. Bob said he wasn’t going to stand for ‘it’ and she needed to make it right… or else.”

“That sounds threatening,” Millie said.

“Even worse, Henry overheard them and when he questioned Carla about it, she said for him not to worry about Bob because she was going todo something about him.”

Mom munched on another cookie.“I wonder ifdoing something entailed killing him.”

“Yeah, what if it did?” I said. “Thing is, it seems like the cheese company isn’t doing very well and they’re all blaming each other. It could’ve been any of them.”

“Yeah, but now we have two suspects who we heard arguing with the victim. And we can do something that Seth can’t do.” Millie snapped off a bite of the cookie. “We can interview them one-on-one and try to trip them up so they confess.”

Mom smiled and nodded.“Yeah, that sounds like fun. I say we start right away.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Nero sat under the kitchen table and aimed his gaze at Josie, willing her to understand his attempts at communication. Unfortunately, she was more interested in the conversation she was having with her mother and Millie about the suspect list.

“Doesn’t matter how hard you stare at her, she’s never going to be able to read your mind. Humans are just not that advanced,” Marlowe said.

Nero sighed and trotted over to his favorite spot near the pantry where Millie had put two plush cat beds. He hopped into the blue one and curled up.“I know, but I wish we could tell them that we overheard Earl and Bob arguing.”

“Then they could add Earl to their suspect list.” Marlowe hopped up onto the counter. The humans weren’t paying any attention, so she trotted over to the sink and tilted her head under the faucet to catch a drip of water. Fresh water out of the tap always tasted so delicious it was worth the risk of getting swatted at. “We’ll just have to figure out a way to clue them in so that they get the idea into their heads on their own.”

“But how? We can’tshow them an argument. We’ll have to find something that points to Earl.” Nero licked his front paw. “And we need to enlist the aid of the others to skulk around town keeping their eyes open for anything suspicious and listening in on conversations. The killer could be anyone who was here last night.”

“Plenty of suspects on that roster.” Marlowe jumped down from the counter and hopped into the tan cat bed beside Nero. “Do you think this has anything to do with the confession Juliette heard? She said something about a woman who was going to betray her family. Perhaps Millie’s theory aboutPaula being the killer is correct.”

“Well, it could be. I know one thing though, it’s not Flora. She’s like family and we’ll protect her like we would protect Millie,” Nero said.

“Sure, but her shoes did smell kind of funny just now.”

“But they didn’t smell like murder. More smoke.”

“Maybe she stepped in some cheese? A little slice of smoked Gouda. I think I saw Carla bring some into her room.”

“Flora could have come into contact with it while cleaning, but we’ll inspect their rooms thoroughly later today when they are out. Perhaps there will be some cheese morsels we can appropriate for ourselves. Purely for investigative purposes, of course. We would never steal from the guests,” Nero said.

“Of course.”

“Naturally, we must protect the reputation of the guesthouse and make sure the blame for this does not fall onto Josie or Flora. I wouldn’t put it past that Seth Chamberlain to try to accuse one of them,” Nero said.

“Ah, come on. We know Seth isn’t that bad. He feeds us doughnut holes when no one else is looking.”

“Exactly. That’s what he does when no one is looking but right now everyone will be looking to see that he solves this case and there is an eyewitness pointing the finger at Flora. If he takes the easy way out, he could throw Flora in jail.”

Marlowe nodded.“We need to help Millie, Rose and Josie figure out how to point him in another direction.”

“Preferably not Josie’s though.” Nero winced as Millie scraped her chair back. It made an ungodly noise, at least to his sensitive cat ears. It didn’t seem to bother the humans any though.

Millie went to the recipe box on the counter and started to leaf through the recipes. That meant baking. Well fine. The humans could leisurely sit around baking all day but Nero didn’t have that luxury. A killer was loose and he had to help catch them. He stood and stretched.

“Come on. Let’s go down to the bait wharf and get this investigation rolling.”

Thirteen

“Just how do you propose we interrogate the family?” my mother asked Millie, who was pawing through the recipes looking for the perfect one for the town celebration. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had the presence of mind to hide the remains of my burned peanut-butter-banana loaf, and Millie had seen it in the trash.

Millie had her lips pressed together and was squinting at the cards as she flipped through them. She stopped and then pulled one out.“Yes, this is the one, the apple-pecan bread.” She looked at me and nodded, her eyes sparkling. “That’s the one, Josie. It’s a showstopper. Now let me see if we have the ingredients.”

She bustled over to the cabinets, pulling out the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt, a bag of pecans and a bottle of vanilla vodka. She had pulled some apples and a pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge, then turned to me.“Do you have any champagne?”

“Champagne and vodka?” my mother asked. “Do you put those in the apple-pecan bread?”

“No. Those are for Paula. I think she’s making up that story about seeing Flora, and what better way to trip her up than to get her drunk?” Millie said. “And we all know she likes her drinks. I was thinking maybe we could cut her from the herd, serve her a complimentary vanilla mimosa and get her to confess.”

It sounded like a good plan to me, and, luckily, I did have some champagne on hand in the butler’s pantry. I knew one little drink wasn’t going to loosen Paula’s tongue much, so I proceeded to make a pitcher of mimosas. I might’ve taken a little sip or two for myself. I needed to steady my nerves. After all, it was a bit disconcerting that another body had shown up on the property.

Seth Chamberlain was taking people’s statements in the reading room. He had the pocket doors shut, and, try as we might, we couldn’t hear much through them.

“They sure don’t make things like they used to. These doors are solid,” Mom said as we pressed our ears to the door.

“Yeah, too bad,” Millie added. “Oh well, let’s find Paula, that will be much more enlightening than eavesdropping on Seth’s investigation.”

We found Paula sitting alone in the back parlor. The back parlor was a cozy room with overstuffed chairs and pillows in blue-and-yellow accents. Mike had painted the walls pale yellow and I’d had the pine floors refinished so they glowed like warm honey. The room wasn’t used much because it didn’t exactly have a nice view right now as it overlooked the gardens, which were an overgrown mess of tangles. Eventually, I would spruce them up, but now it was mostly weeds and dead flowers. Paula didn’t seem to mind, though. She was sitting in the chair, her blank gaze fixed at something outside the window.

Perhaps her somber mood was due to guilt over killing her brother and she’d break down and confess right away. That would be convenient for me, avoiding a long, drawn-out investigation with the police traipsing through my guesthouse.

“That dreadful sheriff has already taken my statement. It was so stressful.” Paula lifted a shaky cup of tea to her lips.

“I know, dear,” Millie clucked and sat down beside her. I set the silver tray with the pitcher and a champagne flute on the table beside Millie, and she poured a mimosa and held it out to Paula. “We’ve prepared a little something for you to settle your nerves.”

Paula’s eyes lit up. She grabbed the glass, settled back into the chair and chugged the whole thing down.

“Would you like another?” Millie asked.

Paula nodded and Millie topped the glass off.

“It must’ve been dreadful for you, dear, seeing your brother like that,” Millie said.

Paula nodded, the glass still to her lips.

“Funny that you were right at the beginning of that trail last night, though. I don’t think a lot of people were down there digging for treasure, so what made you think that would be a good place to dig?” I asked.

“I didn’t. I went there because it was out of the way. I didn’t want to be disturbed, that’s why I chose that particular bench,” Paula said.

“But it seems odd that you would’ve seen Flora down there. I mean, like we said, it was out of the way and I don’t even think she was digging for treasure. Are you sure it was her?” Millie asked. “I mean, she is kind of old to be traipsing around out there at night.”

Paula put the glass down and wrung her hands together.“I know. That’s what the sheriff said. I got the impression he thinks I made that up, but I swear I didn’t kill Bob, and I’m sure it was the maid I saw.”

“But you did have a fight with Bob earlier, didn’t you?” I asked.

Paula’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, somebody else mentioned it. I think it was something about your cheese sculptures not being up to par.”

Paula sniffed.“Sure, we fought about that, but that was nothing new. Bob was always fighting with us about one thing or another, and that’s no reason to kill him. I really was on that bench asleep, honest.”

“So Flora woke you up when she came by then? Was she carrying a shovel?” I’d looked at the back of Bob’s head and was pretty sure that he’d been hit with a shovel, but I hadn’t seen any blood on the shovel at the crime scene. I glanced out the window in time to see Johnnie collecting the shovels from the shed. Looked like I was right then.

Paula closed her eyes as if trying to remember.“You know, I’m not sure if she had a shovel, but I saw her clear as day coming down that path. She didn’t notice me because I was on the ground out of the line of sight.”

I jumped on the inconsistency in Paula’s description. “Well, if you were lying on the ground asleep like you said you were, then how could you see Flora coming down the path? You must’ve been awake to see her.”

She squinted again and sipped her mimosa.“Right. Something else woke me up because I did see Flora, but after I was jolted awake by something.”

“Somethingor someone?” Millie asked.

Paula took a deep breath.“I guess it was someone. Someone stepped on my hand. I didn’t see who it was, though. I was fast asleep on the ground, my face pressed to the grass, and then all of a sudden, there was this big shooting pain in my hand.” She made a face and winced, grabbing her hand. “I woke up right away, but the person had already gone by. All I remember seeing is a black Ferragamo tag on the back of their shoes, then when I turned back to try to pull myself up, I saw the maid coming down the path.”

“Ferragamo shoes?” Millie raised her brows. “Those are very expensive shoes. Not everyone wears those.”

“Yeah, and what kind of a moron would wear them digging in the dirt?” my mother asked.

Paula’s eyes widened as if she had made a sudden realization. “I know one moron who would. My brother, Earl.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I went to the kitchen to wash out the empty mimosa pitcher while Mom and Millie ran off to find Seth so they could tell him about the Ferragamo shoes.

If Paula was telling the truth and she really was asleep at the time, I was sure she hadn’t been simply napping. She’d been passed out drunk, which made her an incredibly unreliable witness. I still wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t making the whole thing up so she could frame someone because she was the real killer. Maybe she figured she could throw the investigation off track by implicating both Floraand Earl.

On my way back to the parlor I passed the front sitting room and saw poor Doris in there looking as if she’d lost her best friend. My heart squeezed. The woman’s son had just been murdered and it was possible that one of her other kids did it.

I slipped into the sitting room.“Can I bring you something? Maybe some tea? I have some fresh snickerdoodle cookies.”

So what if I didn’t mention that Millie had baked them at her house? Did it really matter where they’d come from? If Doris thought I had nicely baked cookies for her and gave me a good review on Yelp because of it, Millie wouldn’t mind my little lapse.

Doris turned red-rimmed eyes to me, then glanced in the direction of the kitchen, her nose twitching.“Are they burning?”

I straightened my back. See what happened when you were nice? People mocked you.

“No.” I wasn’t baking anything so of course nothing was burning.

She sighed and slumped in the chair.“It’s just so awful, that Sheriff interrogating us. It’s preposterous to think one of us would have murdered Bob.”

“Do you know anyone whowould have wanted to murder him?” I wasn’t pumping the grieving mother for information, just trying to take her mind off things. But if she happened to have some information about who might have wanted Bob dead, all the better.

Doris pressed her lips together.“Hopefully not his own brother or sisters, though there has been a lot of fighting and animosity lately. You see, Bob could be a bit of a troublemaker. Never quite got along with the rest of the family.”

I raised my brows. Maybe Bob had done something to his brother or sisters and they had a long festering animosity toward him.“Really? What kind of trouble?”

Doris shrugged.“You know, the usual things. Not pulling his weight. Wanting to surf and ski instead of working. Marrying that awful woman.”

I frowned. Bob hadn’t brought a wife to the guesthouse. “He was married?”

“Yep. They were getting a divorce. Good riddance to her, I say.”

“Is it an amicable divorce?” My hopes rose. Maybe the person who had killed Bob was his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Doris wiggled her hand back and forth in a seesaw motion.“So-so. I guess it’s fairly friendly, as divorces go.”

I inched forward to the edge of my chair.“You don’t think the ex-wife could have killed him, do you?”

“I wish. It would take the heat off my other children. I can tell that the sheriff suspects them.” Doris looked thoughtful, as if she was coming to terms with the possibility that one of her children had killed Bob. “But she’s out of the country. I told the sheriff all about her. He’s going to double-check, but, honestly, I wouldn’t think she’d have it in her.”

“What about somebody else from his past? If he was a troublemaker, maybe he rubbed someone the wrong way.”

“Bob rubbed a lot of people the wrong way, but I have no idea who he would have angered so much that they’d come here to kill him. I don’t think he knows anyone from Oyster Cove and most of the people he associates with are losers who wouldn’t travel so far to do him in.” Doris shook her head. “It’s just such bad timing with the family tensions being high because the business is doing so badly.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“I suppose I’ll have to arrange a funeral. If only the cheese-sculpting business was doing better we could do something more lavish, but I guess now it will have to be something simple,” Doris said.

I patted her hand for comfort.“Simple is better, sometimes.”

Doris nodded.“They’re not bad children, you know. Even though they each have their little quirks. I blame my husband for making them so lazy and selfish. He wanted them to have it easier than we did and didn’t want them to work as hard. Barney and I started the business from scratch, you know.”

“You don’t say. What made you start a cheese-sculpting business?” I asked.

Doris smiled at the memory.“Barney used to make little sculptures out of cheese for parties and all our friends loved them. It was just a silly hobby, but then people started asking if they could order specific sculptures. Next thing we knew, we were shipping out of state and running a full-blown business.” Doris swiped at the tears drying on her cheeks. “When the kids were grown, we brought them in, and when Barney died they took over. Sometimes when you get something for nothing, you don’t appreciate it. You don’t work as hard. I’ve used up all my retirement income supplementing the business.”

I nodded. I knew how that was. I’d worked my whole marriage to make things good for my husband and he hadn’t appreciated it one bit. I’d put my whole life savings into the guesthouse and my future depended on its success. I sure as heck was going to work my butt off and not let it fall to ruin like Doris’s cheese-sculpting business. All the more reason to clear up this murder fast. I’d do just about anything to make sure my business was a success.

Hey, wait a minute… hadn’t Doris mentioned spending her retirement income earlier in reference to the treasure? She’d looked pretty serious too. But surely she wouldn’t bash her own son over the head in order to grab the treasure from him?

“Of course, some of them don’t have a lick of sense and that might be part of it. Take Carla, for example.” Doris shook her head and looked out the window. “Now before we started digging, we discussed where the old homestead was located in Jedediah’s day. Even though he started off with apretty big house, it’s been added to quite a bit over the years. Carla knew the gazebo didn’t exist on the grounds back then, it was added after Millie’s people bought it.”

I nodded. Apparently talking had comforted her. She was more animated and not as sad now.“I’m going to have that restored, the gazebo.”

“Good idea, but Carla should have been smarter. See, that’s why the business is failing.” Doris tapped her head with her forefinger. “They don’t use their smarts.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because last night when we were digging, I saw Carla coming from the gazebo. Now we know Jedediah wouldn’t bury treasure there because there was nothing there in his day. No trees, no landmarks, nothing, and everyone knows, when you bury treasure, you need a landmark so you can locate it later.”

I thought about that. Why would Carla be digging in a place unlikely to have treasure? Did she know something the others didn’t? The gazebo wasn’t near the pond, but could she have killed Bob at the pond, then taken a long route to get away? Maybe she’d gotten lost in the overgrown bushes and grasses and found her way out at the gazebo.

A ruckus in the hallway interrupted my thoughts.

“That’s preposterous. Who would wear fine Italian leather shoes to go digging in the yard?” It was Earl. Millie had obviously talked to Seth, who was questioning him about the shoes.

“Who knows what people wear to dig? Now answer the question. Do you have Ferragamo shoes?” Seth said.

“Yes, but I was wearing Nikes,” Earl said, “and I can prove it.”

Doris and I went into the hallway in time to see Earl stomping up the stairs. We heard him rip open his door, then slam it shut loudly.

We all stood around looking at each other.

“What’s this about?” Doris asked.

“Your daughter Paula seems to think she saw fancy Ferragamo shoes when she was passed out on the bench before Flora ran past,” Millie said.

Doris scrunched up her face.“Are you people colluding? Trying to get my daughter to say something that she didn’t really see? I mean, you know she’s not that reliable.” Doris made nip-tipping gestures with her thumb and forefinger against her lips.

“I’m just being thorough,” Seth assured her. He narrowed his eyes at Millie. “We won’t be playing favorites here.”

After what seemed like ages, Earl came running down the stairs with a pair of white Nikes in his hand. He threw them down on the round table in the foyer so hard that the Tiffany bird lamp with the delicate stained-glass shade wobbled precariously. I cringed as I pictured the dirt in between the treads caking off onto Millie’s grandmother’s hand-tatted white doily.

“See?” Earl pointed at the mud caked on the side of his shoes. “Those are the shoes I was wearing last night, so if my sister claims she saw someone with Ferragamo shoes walking past her, then it wasn’t me.”

Fourteen

The pungent smell of dead fish tickled Nero’s nostrils as he came around the side of the harbormaster’s station.

“Ah, we’re in luck. They’ve got fish scraps.” Marlowe picked up speed. Likely, she wanted to get to the others before the scraps were gone.

The other cats were already hunkered down near the lobster traps. Poe was chowing down on a halibut head. Juliette was finishing off a haddock tail. Stubbs was industriously picking clean the bones of a cod. Boots must have just finished eating and was now fastidiously preening his whiskers.

As Nero approached, a gull swooped down and attempted to steal a piece of fish away from Harry. Harry hung on with one claw.“Hey, give it back.”

Caw!

The gull flapped its wings with its beak deep into the morsel of fish.

Harry tugged. The gull pulled back.

“That’s mine, go get your own.” Harry tried to grab at the fish with both paws but the gull was stronger. He ripped the meat out of Harry’s paw and flew off. Nero could have sworn the gull’s cry sounded like “ha ha!”

“Stupid gulls. They’re a nuisance.” Harry sat back on his haunches and preened.

“I agree.” Juliette pushed a piece of her haddock over to Harry.

Stubbs finished picking the last bit off the bones of his cod and tossed a perfectly formed fish skeleton into the water, then looked at Nero.“So, what’s going on? You guys figure out who plugged the vic?”

“He wasn’t plugged,” Nero said. “He was bludgeoned with a shovel.”

“Hit from behind,” Marlowe added.

“From behind? So it wasn’t a fight, then?” Boots’s green eyes brimmed with curiosity. “Do you think they got him by surprise?”

“Good question. Someone could have snuck up on him, I suppose, or maybe he knew the person and wasn’t afraid to turn his back. I don’t see how that narrows it down much though.”

“It could have been one of his siblings, he was on the outs with all of them,” Marlowe said.

“Have you located the shovel that was used as the murder weapon yet?” Harry asked.

Nero shook his head.“It could be anywhere.”

“That makes our job harder. Almost everyone in town was out there last night with a shovel.” Boots tugged at his whiskers. “But you said you heard the victim argue with someone?”

“Several people,” Nero said. “Marlowe and I heard him argue with Earl.”

“And Josie heard him arguing with Carla. Josie claims that Carla even made a threatening comment about him,” Marlowe added.

“And Millie heard him arguing with Paula,” Nero said.

“What were they arguing about?” Juliette asked.

“Seems like it all stems from their cheese-sculpting business. It’s not doing well. It seems Bob had made threats to each of them.”

“What kind of threats?” Stubbs asked.

“It would appear Bob had something on them and might have been about to expose what he knew.”

The cats looked pensive. Everyone knew that mixing family with business was fraught with danger, especially if that business was having problems.

“Sounds like tempers might have been high. And maybe someone didn’t want Bob to make good on his threats,” Harry said.

“Bob was the most disruptive one, maybe Doris did him in so they could have harmony in the company again?” Marlowe suggested.

Juliette hissed.“The mother? I don’t think a mother would kill one of her kits. Not unless there was something wrong with it.”

“Sounds like there was plenty wrong with this Bob character,” Harry said.

“Yeah, it’s the age-old motive. Silence anyone who might drop the dime on you or is getting in the way of something you really want,” Stubbs agreed.

Poe picked a piece of fish out of his teeth with a razor-sharp claw.“In any case, I think we should be able to get some cheese samples out of this job. Maybe a pinch of Parmesan or a wedge of Wensleydale or a morsel of mozzarella.”

Juliette frowned at him.“Mozzarella? Do you think they would have that? I don’t think you can sculpt mozzarella. It’s not firm enough.”

“But it is delicious.”

“True.” Juliette smacked her lips together. “Maybe with some little tomatoes and basil or—”

“Kids,” Nero cut in. “Let’s stick to the question at hand. What course of action should we take to ferret out the killer? As you heard, our dear friend Flora has been accused by one of the siblings and of course we must make sure this doesn’t reflect badly on Josie.”

“We all know Flora could not have committed such a heinous crime,” Boots said.

“Surely Seth Chamberlain won’t think it’s Josie again? She has no motive,” Stubbs added.

Juliette jumped on top of the lobster traps. She often liked to get up higher than the rest so she could look down upon them, especially when she thought she had information that she considered to be important.“Don’t forget, I heard the woman confessing about betraying her family. I believe that could have been the killer trying to clear her conscience before committing the crime.”

“Do you think you would be able to recognize her voice? Was she one of the siblings at the crime scene earlier?” Nero asked.

Juliette shook her head.“In the confessional people whisper so you can’t recognize the tone that way. But it does narrow our suspect list down to a woman.”

“Who confesses to a murder before they commit it?” Stubbs asked. “The confession could have been about something else. I don’t want to narrow down the list prematurely.”

Juliette gave him a haughty look and jumped down off the lobster trap.“Fine, thenyou come up with a plan.”

“I have a plan,” Nero said. “I want you all to canvas the town. Sniff out all the shovels, see if you can find the murder weapon among them. The cops took the shovels from the Oyster Cove Guesthouse toolshed, but only the Biddefords used those shovels. If the killer is someone else, the shovel could be hidden somewhere around town.”

“Yeah, we can’t forget that the guesthouse grounds were lousy with diggers last night. Anyone could have whacked him,” Stubbs said.

“Poe, Stubbs, Boots, you check around the alleys and benches downtown. See if you can overhear anything or pinpoint guilty behavior. Harry, get the word out to your network that we are looking for the killer.” Harry was a scrappy street cat with a network of informants that would rival any cable network.

Harry nodded.

“Juliette, you stick close to the confessional at the rectory in case our confessor comes back. If your theory is correct, they may need to cleanse their soul of the guilt.”

Juliette swished her tail in agreement.

“Meanwhile, Marlowe and I will investigate the rooms at the guesthouse. If someone is hiding something there, we’ll find it.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

It was almost noon by the time Seth finished interviewing everyone and departed. Mom and Millie had left me with the ingredients and instructions for the apple-pecan bread and I had baked a trial loaf, which I left cooling on the counter before meeting Mom and Millie downtown to make the final touches on the Oyster Cove Guesthouse table at the town celebration. I hadn’t burned the cake this time, though it did smell a little bit like sour cider. At least I was making progress.

The Biddefords were ambling around the guesthouse, talking in hushed tones. They seemed to be in a somber mood again. I couldn’t imagine one of them had killed Bob, though the alternatives were also not that great. It had either been one of them, someone from town or Flora. Speaking of Flora, I hadn’t seen her since she’d talked to Seth in the kitchen, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It wasn’t like she’d skip town or anything.

The town common was full of activity again. This time tourists were milling about, sampling the goods here and picking up brochures there. This weekend even more tents would be set up on the other side, part of a gigantic craft fair after the parade. The mood was festive, and maybe word about the murder hadn’t spread yet.

Stella Dumont was hovering around her table. She wore a tight V-neck shirt and a pound of makeup, and was meticulously fussing with her brochures, arranging them just so and standing back to admire the presentation. I glanced back at my table where my brochures lay in a messy pile. I sauntered over and started arranging them, peeking surreptitiously at Stella to see how she was doing hers.

“No copying. Just like in high school, Josie,” Stella said.

“I wasn’t copying.” Where were Mom and Millie? They had requested I meet them here and I hoped they’d hurry so I didn’t have to talk to Stella for too long.

“You’re always after the things I have. Like Mike,” Stella said.

I crossed my arms over my chest.“I heard you were after Myron now.”

Stella’s brows knit together and she laughed then continued fussing with her brochures.

“I thinkyou’re after what I have now,” I said.

Stella paused what she was doing and looked up at me.“What do you mean?”

“I saw you in my yard digging for treasure last night,” I said. Technically that wasn’t correct. I hadn’t seen her in my yard, just scoping it out. But Millie had said she’d seen Stella and Myron so I figured that was almost as good as seeing her there myself.

“Oh, that. I just wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Who believes there is still an old treasure there anyway? That’s silly.”

“Well, lots of the townspeople were there so apparently not everyone thinks it’s silly,” I said.

“People love to gamble. Look at how many play the lottery. People just came out because there was achance there is treasure. I don’t think too many actually believe in it.” In the corner of the tent sat Myron, donning his perfectly pressed suit. He’d snagged a young couple and was pointing to something in one of his brochures. Trying to sell them a loan no doubt. “Even people who already have money can be lured by thedream of finding treasure—even if they don’t deserve more.”

What was that all about? She sounded mad at Myron. Had he given her the brush-off? She couldn’t really be interested in him, could she? Maybe it was all his family money. Mike was a lot more handsome. Not that I was comparison shopping or anything.

Her words made me wonder. Whywould Myron be out there digging when there was only a slim chance anything would be found? He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty and his family came from old money. Maybe the bank wasn’t doing well… was that why they had a table here? The First Oyster Cove Bank and Trust didn’t usually need to drum up business. It was the only bank around and everyone in town used them for their checking accounts, loans, investments and savings.

“How’d the bread come out?” Somehow Millie and Mom had snuck up and were standing beside me.

“Not too bad. At least I didn’t burn it.”

“That’s good.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And what about the suspects? Did anyone blurt out a confession?”

“Unfortunately, no. The closest we came was Earl with the shoes.”

“Those shoes! Can you believe he put them down on Grandma Sullivan’s tatted doily?” Millie glanced up at me. “Flora did clean that off, didn’t she? I hope it doesn’t stain.”

I wondered about that. Flora cleaning it, I mean, not the staining. Flora had made herself scarce after talking to Seth in the kitchen and I couldn’t really say I blamed her. It doesn’t feel very good to be accused of killing someone—I should know.

I made a mental note to check on the doily as soon as I got home. Millie seemed distraught about it, so I wanted to make sure it got cleaned even if I had to do it myself.

“Actually, I haven’t seen Flora since we talked with her and Seth this morning.” I glanced over at the grandmothers of twins’ table, but Flora wasn’t there. “She didn’t say she was taking any time off, but she might have been busy cleaning when I left.”

“Flora? I thought she’d be preparing for her trip.” Annabel Drescher piped in from the table to our left. Clearly, she’d been eavesdropping.

The table was for the Drescher Travel Agency that Annabel owned. It was decorated in a turquoise-and-coral beachy theme, no doubt to entice innocent celebration-goers into buying one of their expensive Caribbean beach packages. Annabel was dressed to the nines as usual with a fancy tailored suit, understated but expensive jewelry, and what looked like a very expensive leather handbag resting next to her chair. Probably keeping it within arm’s reach in case someone tried to make off with it. Naturally, the handbag matched the pair of designer shoes she had on her size-nine feet.

“Trip? What do you mean? Flora isn’t going on a trip, is she, Josie?” My mom turned to me and I shook my head. That was the first I’d heard of any trip.

“Oh yes she is. She was in the travel agency asking about some coordinates.” Annabel straightened some pamphlets.

“Coordinates?” Millie asked.

“Yeah you know longitude and latitude. She was a little bit off though because they ended up in the Caribbean Sea but I think she wanted the island of Martinique. At least, that’s the package I’m gonna try to sell her,” Annabel said.

“Did she say when she was going on this trip?” I asked. Flora hadn’t mentioned any plans, which made me a little suspicious. What was going on with her? Of course, I couldn’t imagine that she’d have killed Bob but where would Flora have gotten the money for a trip? She was always complaining about how hard it was to survive on social security and a maid’s wages. As far as I knew, she was broke.

“You know she was a little vague about that when I asked. Said she’d have to come into a lot of money to afford it. But she must’ve been expecting some soon because why else would she be asking about a specific place?” Annabel shrugged and smiled, showing her ultra-white teeth, just like the ones Jaws showed right before he tried to eat the boat. “I don’t try to force them. Whenever someone comes in with a hankering for a vacation I know sooner or later they’re gonna buy.”

I exchanged a glance with Mom and Millie. This was not looking good. Flora thought she might come into some money, Paula claimed to have seen her rushing away from the scene of the crime, and Flora had denied that. What if Seth’s theory about Bob finding the treasure and someone killing him over it was true? And what if that someone really had been Flora?

I didn’t have long to think about it because a voice boomed from behind us.

“Heard about the goings-on at your place!” We all spun around to see Myron Remington standing there looking superior. “Seems like you’re racking up the bodies like nobody’s business. Maybe you should get a loan for a new wing. A mortuary wing.”

“I don’t think that’s anything to make jokes about, Myron,” Millie said.

“No joke, actually. I really could give you a loan. I have some great rates right now and I’d love to see that old place fully restored.”

I eyed him suspiciously and thought about taking on a loan. On the one hand, it would be great to get the house done in one fell swoop, instead of working on it a little at a time, but I was also maxed out on monthly bills. I couldn’t pay the note on a loan no matter how good the interest rate was. “I’ll think about it, Myron.”

He nodded.“Hey, how is the investigation going on that skeleton? Did I hear it ended up being Jedediah Biddeford?”

“That’s what Seth says, but there’s not much of an investigation going on. My daughter pointed out we could have a forensic anthropologist look into the old bones. Might be able to tell us more.” I couldn’t help the tinge of pride that snuck into my voice at the mention of Emma’s suggestion. Maybe I should suggest that idea to Seth, though not right now. In light of finding another body on my property, it would be best to steer clear of Seth Chamberlain and avoid making him feel like I was telling him how to do his job.

“That seems like it would be quite a waste, doesn’t it?” Myron fiddled with his silk paisley tie. “You know how I hate wasting money.”

“Well it wouldn’t actually be your money, Myron, but yes it does seem like a waste,” Millie said.

“Speaking of your money, did I hear you were in my yard trying to find the treasure last night?” I asked.

Myron looked taken aback.“Treasure? No. Why would I dig up treasure? I own a bank.”

“So you weren’t in my yard? With Stella Dumont?”

He looked sharply over at Stella’s table and she turned her back on him. “I should certainly say not. I couldn’t even get a shovel to dig up treasure if I wanted. Your maid Flora got the last one.”

Fifteen

Since I was already in town, I figured I’d visit Jen. I’d been so busy lately that we’d rarely gotten a chance to talk. I wanted to catch up. Okay, I admit that I had an ulterior motive. The post office was rumor central and I wanted to get some insider information on what people were saying about the murder.

Jen was standing about five feet from the open slots on the postmaster side of the post-office boxes with a stack of letters in her hand. She was oblivious to the fact that someone had come in, her concentration aimed at pitching each letter into its rightful post-box slot like she was practicing for darts.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Each letter made a hollow sound as it slid, hitting the slot door on the other side.

She noticed me as I approached the desk because she stopped pitching and turned, her mouth quirking in a smile.

“Oh, thank goodness. Someone to talk to. It gets so boring in here and I have to make up little games to keep myself amused.” She gestured toward the post-office boxes. “So, what’s up?”

“I just came down to check out my table under the tent. Millie is obsessing about having a good presentation.”

Jen’s face turned serious and she reached out and patted my forearm, which I had rested on the counter. “I heard about the murder. Are you okay?”

“Sure. Never let a little thing like murder in my guesthouse get me down. I might be getting used to it.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t become a common occurrence.” Jen’s concerned eyes turned inquisitive. “Any idea who did it?”

I glanced around to make sure we really were alone. The post office had a lot of nooks and crannies and you never knew where someone might be lurking around reading the magazines or fliers they’d gotten before tossing them in the recycling bins. No one was around. “I think it might be one of his siblings. Can you believe one of them tried to pin it on Flora?” I said.

“Flora? No way.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think that person was trying to divert suspicion away from themselves?”

“Possibly.” I picked a candy out of the bowl that sat on top of the counter. Hershey’s Kisses. If I had that on my counter the bowl would be empty in about five minutes. “What are people saying?”

Jen shot me a mischievous look.“First tell me what’s going on with you and Mike. I heard he was the one who discovered the body so that means he must have been at your place very early this morning.”

I rolled my eyes. My mother and Millie weren’t the only ones meddling in my non-existent love life. Jen had been wanting to see Mike and I get back together since I moved back to town. Not happening.

“Yes, he was there.” I let my voice trail off and gave her a coquettish look just to yank her chain. I almost felt bad at the hopeful gleam in her eye.

“I knew it! Did he stay over?”

I drew it out, popping another Hershey Kiss in my mouth and pretending to be too busy chewing to answer. Jen was practically jumping out of her black government-issued shoes with anticipation.

I swallowed and smiled.“Nah. He was just there to inspect the toolshed. That’s why he was down near the pond.”

“I heard it was in the pond. But you’re sure he didn’t fall in and drown on his own?”

“Nope. The back of his skull was crushed.”

I gave her the Reader’s Digest condensed version of finding the body and what had gone on this morning, with Seth interrogating people and how Paula had claimed to see Flora coming up the path from the pond.

“Flora? She wouldn’t harm a fly. She’s a great-grandmother, for crying out loud.”

“I know.” I pressed my lips together. Of course Flora wouldn’t kill anyone. She was loyal, trustworthy and a good worker. Okay, scratch that part about a good worker. She was loyal and trustworthy though. And I couldn’t picture her bashing someone over the head with a shovel, especially with those scrawny arms of hers. But still, something didn’t sit right. There were a few disturbing, unanswered questions when it came to Flora.

“She has been acting a little odd lately. Did you hear anything about her going on a trip?” I asked.

Jen shook her head.“But I wouldn’t necessarily hear about that.”

“True.” Not everyone gave Jen their itinerary, though most people going on a trip had their mail stopped. Flora lived in an apartment and would probably have a neighbor or her landlord collect it. So, unless Flora was going with someone who might create a scandal, the post-office grapevine would find her trip uninteresting.

“Do they have any other suspects?” Jen peeled a stamp off a stamp sheet and pressed it onto an envelope, then tossed the envelope into a mailbag.

“I’m not sure. Seth probably suspects me, though.”

Jen laughed.“What motive would you have?”

“None, but he was looking at me with suspicion. Remember he thought I killed the last person too.”

“Only because you own the guesthouse now and were out of town for a long time and he thought you killed the last victim because he was going to give the guesthouse a bad review. But it really does come down to motive, doesn’t it? I heard that Seth thought perhaps someone killed Bob to take the treasure away from him. Do you think he dug something up?” Jen asked.

“Did you hear anything about any treasure through the grapevine?” If someone had the treasure, chances were someone else knew about it and sooner or later that person would talk. I doubted there actually was any treasure though or that Bob had dug it up. If he had, wouldn’t the hole—or at least evidence of digging it—have still been there?

“You don’t really believe that whole treasure curse thing, do you?” Jen asked.

“No. You?”

“Nope. But some people do. I’ve heard a few people say that old Jedediah killed Bob to make good on his curse.”

“If that were the case, then Bob would still have had the treasure in his possession. Unless they think a ghost took it away.”

Jen laughed.“With some of the folks here, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, I think this murder was done by someone on the earthly plane. Someone closer to the victim.”

“You mean like his family?”

I nodded.“Bob had threatened several of them. The business isn’t going well and apparently they were all at odds.”

Jen nodded.“Typically the victim knows the killer.” She watched a lot of crime shows on TV.

“You haven’t heard any rumors about anyone in town knowing Bob from before, have you?”

Jen slapped another stamp on an envelope and tossed it in the bag.“Nope.”

“Anyone come to town asking around for him? He’s getting a divorce, but his wife is supposed to be in Europe.”

Jen’s left brow rose. “An estranged wife? Sounds like a person with a motive. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard of anyone looking for him. The only people asking about the Biddefords are those interested in the skeleton you found. That seems to have raised everyone’s curiosity. Even Myron Remington was in here asking about the investigation.”

“He was asking me too, but Sheriff Chamberlain isn’t going to investigate Jedediah’s death. I mean, how can he?”

“The clues are too old and a fresh murder would take priority, I imagine,” Jen said. “Myron’s family has history here. Maybe he was more interested in the historical aspect or maybe he’s one of those creepy serial-killer ghouls who is fascinated with skeletons and bodies.”

Jen had an excited look on her face as she said this. I started to worry that maybe she’d been watchingtoo many crime shows.

“He always was a little weird. I think he might have only been feigning interest so he could make googly eyes at Stella Dumont.”

“He was making googly eyes at Stella?” The dramatic look on Jen’s face was replaced by skepticism.

“Millie said she saw them together last night on the grounds when everyone was digging.”

Jen waggled her brows.“Together, together?”

The thought made my lips purse like I’d eaten a sour lemon. “Ugh… did you have to put that image in my head? I think they were just talking. She seemed to imply they were an item but then today Myron denied even being there. Said it was beneath his dignity and he had plenty of money already.”

“Sounds like something he would say. He always acted superior especially since he went to a better college than the rest of us. Maybe his business isn’t doing well and he needs an influx of money but doesn’t want anyone to know. He always was worried about appearances.”

“Or maybe he wanted to hide the fact he really was with Stella.”

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised if Stella was trying to hook Myron. He has the money and you know how she likes to go for that.”

“True.”

“At least she won’t be going for Mike if she’s after Myron. Not that Mike would give her the time of day,” Jen said slyly.

This time I didn’t bite. “Well, I better get going. During the interrogations someone got Millie’s grandmother’s doily dirty and I want to make sure it’s clean before I get home.”

“Shouldn’t Flora do that?” Jen asked.

I raised my eyebrows in response and she laughed.“Oh yeah, what was I thinking?” She picked up her big pile of envelopes as I turned to leave. “Well one thing at least, you won’t have to worry about people coming over to dig more holes in your yard tonight.”

That was welcome news since I was starting to worry about how to control the hole diggers. I didn’t need another one ending up dead. “Why is that?”

“Everyone is scared off because of the curse. I told you, a lot of folks think Jedediah Biddeford made good on his promise. They think he already killed one person digging up his treasure and no one else wants to be next.”

Sixteen

“Searching rooms is exhausting,” Nero said as he flopped down in a pool of sunshine in the conservatory.

“The actual searching is fun, but it’s tedious timing things so precisely so that we can get in and out,” Marlowe said. “I mean, waiting around until someone opens the door then darting inside without being noticed and then making sure we don’t get trapped inside. Sneaking out when the door is open…”

“It’s risky if we have to resort to the old meowing incessantly to go in and then out and then in again trick,” Nero said.

“Good thing we know some secret passages in this old place.”

“Too bad all our efforts were for nothing, though. We didn’t find a thing.”

“We did get to sample some of that Gouda Paula had in her room,” Marlowe said. “Good thing Gouda doesn’t need to be refrigerated, I would hate to have it mess with my digestion.”

Nero shot Marlowe a recriminating look.“I think you got a little overzealous with that sculpture by the way, I hope she doesn’t notice that the ears are missing from the smaller bunny.”

Paula had made a sculpture of a grassy field with rabbits. It was actually rather nice and the little blades of grass were perfect for nibbling without anyone noticing. Of course, Marlowe had to get greedy and go for one of the ears. Hopefully Paula would just think she’d bitten them in a drunken fog or maybe blame one of her siblings.

Marlowe turned away, appropriately embarrassed.“Perhaps I did get a bit carried away. I was frustrated that our search didn’t turn up any evidence.”

Nero had shown Marlowe some of his most-valued methods of clue detection, yet they had not found anything.“At least Flora cleaned Earl and Arlene’s room. That woman has been quite obnoxious about it.”

“She sure was. I hope they find out that she’s the killer. I don’t like her at all,” Marlowe said.

“I don’t actually like many of the Biddefords. I mean, what kind of family argues all the time? Family should stick by each other, not be at each other’s throats,” Nero reflected. “I guess Doris is okay, but then I do have a fondness for older humans.”

Marlowe trotted over to the potted ficus trees and started sniffing.“Hey, did you dig over here again? There’s dirt all over the floor. Josie is not going to like that. Or did you do that on purpose to keep her in line?” Marlowe glanced over her shoulder at Nero.

Nero’s whiskers twitched. What was the young cat talking about? He sighed and got up from his warm spot to see.

“I didn’t dig here. If I was to spew dirt to keep Josie in line, I would make it much more obvious and spread it all over the room like this.” Nero swatted at a large clump of dirt and it skidded out into the middle of the room breaking up into smaller pieces. “See, now that piece Josie would be able to see from the doorway. You need to be more obvious with these things.”

“Me? I didn’t mess with the dirt.” Marlowe cocked her head and looked at one of the boarded-up windows. “I do think someone has been here though.”

They trotted over to the window and sniffed.“Smells like fresh wood and nails.” Something in the corner caught Nero’s eye and he snaked his paw out and batted it around. A shiny new nail.

“Ed must have been here. But why would he dig in the plant?”

“Beats me, but it looks like someone did. Maybe it was one of the guests.”

“Either that or we’ve got another cat in here, and I think if we had another cat one of us would know.”

Nero laughed. Of course his superior senses would have alerted them to an intruder cat.

“It is curious. Sadly, these humans must be dumber than I thought. Surely they aren’t stupid enough to think the treasure is buried in a potted plant?”

Marlowe trotted over and lay in the sunny spot under the window. Curling her tail around her and closing her eyes she muttered,“Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t put anything past them. Maybe it wasn’t one of them, maybe it was that dead guy’s ghost. I heard people saying downtown they believe he’s here.”

Nero snorted.“Hardly. We’d have been able to sense a ghost too.”

Nero looked at the dirt a few seconds more before joining Marlowe in the sun. Something was definitely odd about this whole business. Maybe a nap would help. He’d seen Josie at the town common earlier in the day and had a funny feeling she might be heading down the wrong path. He needed to reroute her by showing her clues that would lead to the real killer… too bad he had no idea who that was.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

After my visit with Jen, I hurried back to the guesthouse. If Flora hadn’t cleaned Millie’s great-grandmother’s doily, I wanted to be sure I got it done right away. I should clean all the doilies really. They’d been here for a couple hundred years and I didn’t want one to be cleaner than the others. How did you clean a doily anyway? Could you put it in the washing machine with bleach? Maybe I should ask Flora. No. She didn’t seem to know a lot about cleaning. Hand washing was probably best.

I stepped into the foyer, surprised to see Nero and Marlowe on the table, sniffing around the doily. They turned as I came in and I could have sworn their looks were a tad judgmental. Were they the cleaning police now, judging me for not getting the doily cleaned right away?

“I know, I know. It’s dirty.” I shooed them away to find that the doily was not dirty at all, apart from a few little pieces of dirt that the cats had apparently decided were quite fascinating. Flora must’ve cleaned the doily, but left loose dirt. No surprise there. I could at least give her credit for the effort, and Millie’s family doily wasn’t ruined.

Meow.

Nero blinked at me with his intelligent golden eyes as if he was trying to tell me something.

“Yes, I already admitted that I see there’s dirt here.” I brushed the dirt into my palm, making a mental note to wash off the table later.

Mewp.

Marlowe jumped down and sniffed my shoes.

“My shoes aren’t dirty. I’m not the one who was out digging for treasure,” I said.

Both cats blinked up at me, their tails swishing. The intensity of their stares gave me the impression that they were either trying to telepath some thoughts my way or were thinking I was the dumbest human around. Maybe both. Then again, maybe they just wanted some food.

“Are you guys hungry?” I’d been making attempts to communicate with them as equals. I’d really been trying to see if they had any understanding of my questions. I still wasn’t convinced that they were as smart as Millie seemed to think, but at times they did seem eerily intelligent.

Meroo!

They both ran to the kitchen. Just as I thought, my attempts at communication were getting better.

Flora walked in the front door just then, wearing a crocheted sweater with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her giant beige patent-leather purse hanging from her arm.

“Oh, Flora, there you are.”

She scowled at me.“Where else would I be?”

“Where have you been?”

Flora sighed and rolled her eyes, the thick round coke-bottle glasses giving this a comical effect.“I told you earlier. I was going to Irma Blazer’s to work on our cookies for the great-grandmothers of twins’ table.” She spoke slowly as if I was a dunce and couldn’t understand her. “I left shortly after Seth Chamberlain interrogated me.”

Now I remembered. Flora had mentioned that the other day, but with all the excitement going on, I’d forgotten.

“Oh right. How did that go with Seth anyway?” I asked.

Flora pursed her lips as she put her giant purse down on the table, shrugged out of her sweater and hung it on the coatrack.“That young man needs to learn some manners. Accusing his elders. I don’t know what the world is coming to.”

I bit back a smile. Seth had to be almost seventy and I didn’t think he was that much younger than Flora. Then again, she said she changed his diapers, so there must have been at least a decade and a few years between them.

“I don’t know what gives him cause to accuse you. You weren’t even out there digging, right?” Flora had been cagey about this before and I wanted to ask again because Flora was getting up there in years and maybe she was having some memory issues. Paula had claimed to have seen her. Myron had said Flora got the last shovel. Paula couldn’t actually be trusted to remember stuff right and Myron could have been lying, but why would he?

Flora pressed her lips together and fisted her hands on her hips.“I never said I wasn’t out there. I said I couldn’t very well clobber someone over the head. I don’t have the strength.” She bent her scrawny arm at the elbow again to make a muscle, as if to prove her point. “But just like everyone else in town I was curious about the treasure, so I wanted to see what was going on.”

I searched my memory banks for the previous conversation. Flora was right, she had said she couldn’t clobber someone. But I still got the impression she’d purposely avoided admitting she was out there. Maybe she was embarrassed about digging. Or afraid about being accused? But she hadn’t actually lied, I’d just misinterpreted what she’d said. That made me feel a lot better. “So youwere digging?”

Flora looked appropriately embarrassed.“As much as I could. It’s hard work.”

That explained why Paula had seen her. But it didn’t explain something else I’d heard about her.

“Are you planning on going on a trip?” I asked.

Flora frowned at me.“No. What makes you ask that? Where would I get money for a trip?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I heard from someone that you were taking one.” I didn’t want to rat out Annabel. No sense in making enemies out of someone you might want to get information from later.

Flora’s gigantic eyes assessed me as if she was considering having me committed. Butterflies swarmed in my gut. Either Annabel had gotten her wires crossed or Flora was a very good actress. And if it was the latter, then all the details of her being capable of hitting someone with a shovel could have been acting too.

“I would have asked for the time off if I was going on a trip, right? Did I ask for time off?” Flora reached into the closet and pulled out the feather duster.

“No. But if you want some time off you can have it.”

“Got no need for time off. Got no need for travel. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get cleaning. Lots of work to do.” She shuffled off toward the stairs then stopped, turning to look at me. “By the way, don’t worry. I did clean that room for that nasty Arlene. You ask me, she doesn’t deserve it. The place was a pigsty. But that’s none of my business.”

“Thanks. And thanks for cleaning off the doily too.” I gestured toward the table. I didn’t mention she’d forgotten to pick up some of the dirt. With Flora you had to take what you get.

She gave me another one of those Ishould-have-you-committed looks.“If you say so.”

Merup.

The cats had been sitting patiently watching us as if they understood every word we were saying. But now it appeared their patience had come to an end. They trotted toward the kitchen, glancing back at me every few steps. They wanted the food I’d promised earlier.

Flora was swatting at the railing with the duster as she ascended the stairs. I was glad she hadn’t lied about being out there last night. Paula probably had seen her but been confused about where and when. Okay, the thing about the trip was a little odd but maybe Flora didn’t want me to know she was planning one or maybe she was looking into it for one of her bazillion grandchildren.

I could cross Flora off my suspect list and focus on the others. The Biddeford siblings were at the top and I couldn’t discount Doris, either. Myron was running a close second though. He’d lied about being here, but I felt that might be because he was embarrassed to admit he was with Stella. Too bad we didn’t know more about the arguments amongst the Biddeford clan. So far it didn’t seem like any of themwere worth killing over. I needed someone with a more compelling motive.

At least the townspeople wouldn’t be digging up the yard again. If what Jen said was true, they were all too afraid of Jedediah Biddeford’s ghost. But I didn’t think Bob’s death had been perpetrated by any ghost. No, whoever clobbered Bob over the head was undoubtedly human, and might be getting very nervous about being discovered as the killer.

And, as I knew from previous experience, people who were nervous about being exposed as a killer could become very dangerous.

Seventeen

I shook off the silly notion that Jedediah’s ghost was killing people who had been searching for his treasure and fed the cats. They seemed to appreciate their meal of turkey chunks and gravy if the way they circled around my feet and rubbed their cheeks on my ankles was any indication.

I bent down to pet them, and they rewarded me by butting their soft heads against my hand and purring. My relationship with the cats was improving greatly. I’d never had a cat before buying the guesthouse and I had to admit they were actually quite good pets.

“You know, you guys are actually pretty great. I’m glad to own you.”

The cats abruptly stopped their purring and rubbing, and looked at me with eyes that were practically shooting daggers.

“I mean, I’m glad you guys own me now.”

That must have mollified them because they continued their purring and rubbing—it was as if they could understand every word I’d said.

The cats went back to their bowls and I stood and watched them eat for a few seconds. Unlike humans, the cats seemed to appreciate most things I gave them, except when they were being finicky. Turns out cats are pretty good company too. Maybe even better company than husbands. I certainly enjoyed my relationship with them more than the last several years—possibly even the last several decades—with my ex, Clive.

I left the cats to their bowls and pulled out Millie’s recipe file. I needed to find something for breakfast the next day. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse didn’t provide lunch or dinner, but the guests sure did expect a spectacular breakfast.

I riffled through the file, discarding the ones that seemed like they were beyond my skill set or that had too many ingredients, when the back door opened and in came my mother and Millie.

“I hope you don’t mind us just walking in, dear.” Millie came over to inspect the recipes I’d pulled out. “Are you planning for breakfast tomorrow? That’s very good. You need to plan ahead when you are running an operation like this. What are you going to make?”

The cats immediately ran over to greet Millie but I noticed this time they hesitated just for a second, looking up as if to assure me that even though they were meeting their old friend Millie, they still knew that their new friend—me—was the one who fed them. I found that heartwarming even if it was likely just my imagination.

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about maybe a quiche or a frittata, but I’ve never made a frittata…” I glanced at Millie hopefully. So far Millie had helped me cook most of the breakfasts I’d served. I guess she felt a responsibility to keep up the reputation of the guesthouse in that department. I didn’t mind.

“We have a lot going on, so I think a quiche would do. You know you can make those ahead of time.” Millie selected a broccoli quiche recipe and put it on the counter. “You have some leftover cooked white rice from our Chinese takeout the other day, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Perfect. I don’t like to waste food. We can use that up in here,” Millie said. “You know, back when I ran the guesthouse in my younger days, I used to like to pre-prep. Some things like the frittata must be prepared fresh that morning, but I always preferred doing something the night before, that way I didn’t have to get up early. I could just rush down, heat it up and then put it on the breakfast buffet with the other items. I never did like to get up early.”

“All those late nights out with your boyfriends,” my mother teased.

Millie blushed and fluffed her hair.“Well now, I guess I’ll just start assembling these ingredients.”

She opened the cupboard and took out some salt and pepper, then grabbed eggs, cheese and milk and the rice out of the fridge before taking the frozen broccoli out of the freezer and popping it into the microwave.“It’s always a good idea to have some frozen veggies around, comes in handy when you need to whip up a quiche.”

I nodded. The broccoli must have been left over from when Millie owned the place. I certainly didn’t remember buying it.

As she worked, she talked.“Did you learn anything new about…” She jerked her head in the direction of the pond.

“I talked to Jen and she said people around town think Jedediah’s ghost came back and committed the murder.”

My mother gave a nervous laugh, her eyes darting around the room as if she expected a ghost to manifest out of nowhere.“That’s ridiculous. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course it is.” Millie cracked an egg into a bowl and started beating it. “That man was definitely killed by a human. He was bludgeoned over the head with a shovel. Ghosts would do something less physical.”

“I think all of Bob’s siblings are still suspects. I’m not sure about Flora, she did say she was out there… but she didn’t kill Bob, of course.” I chewed on my bottom lip. Should I mention to Mom and Millie that she’d sort of lied? Millie would probably say she had just been forgetful, shewas quite old. I wondered if the police still suspected her.

“I haven’t talked to Seth Chamberlain, have you?” I asked. Millie always could wrangle sensitive information out of him.

Millie blushed. Just as I suspected, she’d been doing more than talking with Sheriff Chamberlain. Good thing for us though as we could use all the information we could get.

Millie added rice to the egg and beat faster.“I happen to know the siblings are still suspects but don’t tell anyone I told you.”

“All of them?” my mother asked as Marlowe jumped up onto her lap. “I thought maybe Earl had cleared himself with the shoes.”

Millie nodded.“Yes. His Nikes do seem to clear him, but who can believe what Paula said? Maybe she didn’t see fancy shoes at all.”

“And is she a suspect?” I asked. “I mean, she does admit she was in the proximity. Shesays she was asleep under the bench, but she could be lying about that.”

“I don’t think we can rule any of them out because they all argued with Bob,” Mom said.

“And Flora didn’t,” Millie added. “She has no motive.”

“Other than the treasure,” Mom added.

“If only we knew what those arguments were really about we could determine if his siblings had something to kill over,” I said.

“And let’s not forget about Myron Remington. He was acting very strange and overly interested in the case. He dresses fancy. I bet he has a pair of Italian leather shoes like Paula said she saw. Didn’t you see him here last night, Millie?” my mother asked.

“Yep. I think he was with Stella Dumont, but you’re wrong about one thing. He’s not really interested in Bob’s case, he’s more interested in Jedediah’s case. The skeleton,” Millie said. “He was asking Seth all about it.”

Millie had mixed grated cheese in with the egg and rice and she pressed that into a pie plate to make the crust. I watched carefully. Millie made it look easy.

“Myron said he wasn’t here that night,” I said. Millie turned to look at me, her left brow quirked up. “I asked him directly.”

“I saw him. I know it was him,” Millie said.

“Why would he lie?” my mother asked.

“If he was with Stella he might not want anyone to know,” I suggested.

“Or maybe he’s the killer and pretending he is interested in the skeleton as an excuse to find out more about the police investigation into Bob’s murder,” Mom said.

Millie mixed the rest of the eggs and the other ingredients together and poured it in the pie plate on top of the egg and rice crust. The cats begged and she tossed them a piece of cheese.“I don’t know. Myron has always been worried about what people think. Always boasting about how his family has been here for generations, as if that was some sort of pedigree. He probably just didn’t want anyone to know that he’d lowered himself to the level of regular folks.”

“Did Flora say what she was doing down by the pond? Or even if shewas there?” Mom asked.

“Not to me,” I said. “I didn’t hear her deny Paula’s accusation either though.”

Millie pressed her lips together.“Seth didn’t mention what he talked about with Flora. I know he thinks I am biased about her. But if Paula is telling the truth and she was awakened by the shoe stepping on her hand,then saw Flora, that means Flora was coming down the path after the person with the fancy shoes,” Millie said. “Do you think Flora might’ve seen something and is afraid to talk about it?”

The cats meowed loudly. They were over by a small bookshelf that held ephemera related to the guesthouse. All kinds of old brochures, menus, pictures. Nero swatted at the little blue plastic ring from a milk bottle that had fallen on the floor and it skittered under the bookshelf. The two cats peered after it, then Marlowe snaked her paw under to retrieve it.

“She might have seen something, but I doubt it,” Millie said. “I mean, have you ever seen Flora afraid to speak up?”

“Good point,” I said. “And what about this business about a trip to the Caribbean? Why would Annabel say Flora was taking one if she isn’t? Or if she is, why would Flora lie?”

Millie waved her hands dismissively.“Annabel probably thinks if she says it enough times Flora will think it’s her idea. She’s doing a big renovation on her travel agency and I bet she needs the money. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s saying that about everyone—you know, planting the idea sort of like a subliminal message.”

“Maybe. I just hope Seth will leave Flora alone now. He has many more interesting suspects to consider,” I said.

“Not the least of which is Jedediah’s ghost.” Mom stared at the cats, who were now staring at the bookcase as if mesmerized by something the rest of us couldn’t see. “Maybe Nero and Marlowe know more about that than we do.”

Mew!

They turned to look at us as if they knew we were talking about them, then continued playing with the plastic ring, Nero swatting at it and sending it skidding into the butler’s pantry.

“Oh, go on.” Millie waved her hand in the air. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Maybe not, but plenty of peopledo believe it.” Mom glanced at me. “I just hope it doesn’t hurt the reputation of the guesthouse.”

“All the more reason to figure out who really killed Bob so the rumors can stop.” I would like nothing better than to solve this case quickly and move on. I hadn’t gotten a reservation for the guesthouse in the last couple of days and soon the Biddefords would be leaving. I needed new guests to pay the bills. And I didn’t need something like a lingering murder investigation to scare them off.

Millie shoved the quiche into the oven.“I’m just going to cook this for a while to let it set and you can heat it up tomorrow morning. Now, let’s talk about the town celebration. Are you all set with the rest of the display items and the loaf cakes?”

“Sure.” I was a bit reluctant to stop the murder discussion since I really wanted to figure out who the killer was, but I supposed that talking about something else would give our collective subconscious time to work on all the clues and suspects. “I’ll dig up that book on the guesthouse history from my room tonight. I made a trial batch of apple-pecan loaf.” I gestured toward the loaf I’d left cooling.

“I saw that. Was wondering when you were going to let me try it.” Millie cut into the loaf and I held my breath as she took a bite and swirled it around in her mouth like she was taste testing fine wine.

“It’s okay. A little tart.” Millie picked up the recipe card and looked over the recipe. “Oh yes, I remember this one. You might want to add a pinch more sugar. Plenty of people like it sweet. And you have the little mini loaf pans and bows?”

“Yep.” I can’t tell you how relieved I was the loaf had passed Millie’s taste test. Sure, she’d complained about it being tart, but the fact that that was all she’d had to say was a high compliment. Millie had given me these cute miniature tinfoil loaf pans, pink plastic wrap and red bows. She’d said the presentation would draw people to my table. I was afraid I needed as much help as I could to get people in my line and out of Stella’s, so I was willing to try anything, even if it meant pouring batter into dozens of tiny pans.

“Okay.” Millie brought her hands together and looked at my mother. “What do you say we leave Josie to it? The bingo game at the senior center starts in thirty minutes and it’s a double pot tonight. Don’t want to miss it.”

“You guys take off, I can handle this.” I gestured toward the oven.

“Great.” Millie pointed. “Let that cook for twenty more minutes, then let it cool and put it in the fridge. Heat it up tomorrow morning for about fifteen or twenty minutes. Easy peasy.”

The cats trotted out to say their goodbyes and Millie and Mom went out the back door. As I was watching them go, Millie turned and said,“Don’t worry, Josie, everything will work out perfectly. You’ll see.”

“That’s right,” Mom agreed. “But you might want to burn some sage, just in case those rumors about Jedediah’s ghost really are true.”

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No sooner had Mom and Millie left, than the front door opened and I heard the Biddefords come in. At least they wouldn’t be digging up the yard tonight. The police had taken their shovels, but I also doubted they would be so cold-hearted to want to dig when that’s how their brother had been killed. I lurked in the hallway, hidden by the staircase—not to eavesdrop, but to give them some privacy. Okay, maybe Iwanted to eavesdrop a little. They were my prime suspects and one of them might say something incriminating.

“I think a nice simple service with no wake is fine,” Carla said. “We don’t really need to rub elbows with any of Bob’s unsavory acquaintances, so there’s no need for a wake.”

“If the police ever release the body,” Earl said.

“Maybe someone could do a cheese sculpture of a dove to put on top of the casket?” Doris asked.

The kids mumbled their agreement.

“White cheddar would work well for that,” Paula said.

“Boy that Marinara Mariner sure has spicy sauce. I’ll be up all night.” Earl burped.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten so much,” Carla said. I could hear her sniffing. “Did Josie bake something? Maybe we should make sure the kitchen isn’t on fire.”

The siblings laughed and I resisted the urge to march right out there and give them a piece of my mind. I’d burned a few loaf cakes since the Biddefords had been here, but I didn’t burneverything I put in the oven.

“I’m going to bed to see if I can get some sleep,” Arlene said. “It’s kind of freaky knowing there is a murderer running around. I knew this town was weird. Luckily, we’ll only be here a few more days. I don’t even care about the town celebration or how Earl’s ancestors practically founded Oyster Cove anymore.”

“You can say that again,” Carla agreed. “And honestly, I don’t know if I want to sleep in this creepy old house with Jedediah Biddeford’s ghost rambling around. I don’t want to be his next victim.”

“You don’t really think there is a ghost here, do you?” Arlene scoffed.

“That’s what they’re saying in town.”

Great. People were starting to believe this murdering ghost nonsense. Now even the current guests were afraid to stay. I heard the stairs creaking as they all went up to bed.

“You know, it would make sense that it would be Jed’s ghost,” Earl said. “I mean, who else would want to kill Bob?”

“You mean other than one ofush?” Paula slurred.

“Yeah,” Earl said. “Maybe Bob really did find something and Jed made good on his curse to harm whoever messed with his treasure.”

“Stop it!” Arlene admonished. “I won’t sleep a wink. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Well I, for one, hope there really is,” Doris said. “And I hope Jed is rambling around in here. In fact, I hope he pays me a visit tonight.”

“Why is that?” Henry asked.

“Because then maybe I can persuade him to tell me where he hid the darn treasure!”

Eighteen

The cats had been sitting silently at my feet the whole time I listened to the Biddefords’ conversation. They blinked up at me as if in agreement that the whole family was crazy. But was one of them a killer?

Nero rubbed his face on my ankle and then looked up at me adoringly. I could see why people got so attached to the furry creatures. I was really starting to like them, they could be very friendly and attentive. They were especially attentive when I headed toward the fridge and got out some cheese and an apple for a snack.

“You guys want a snack too? Okay maybe a little cheese.” I broke off two pieces and added it to my plate. At their protesting meows I articulated, “You can have these up in our room after I get this quiche out of the oven.”

Ourroom. Who knew I’d be thinking of the cats as part of my family in that way?

Meow!they chorused.

Sounded like they’d understood. But when I started toward the back stairs, after securing the quiche in the fridge, the cats meowed loudly… prancing off in the direction of the butler’s pantry. Did they not understand we were going to our room? Or maybe I was the one who didn’t understand. I decided to follow them and find out.

As I started toward them Nero’s tail twitched and he trotted off even further, casting glances over his shoulder as if to make sure I was following. I’d determined he was the smarter of the two after watching them interact. Marlowe seemed younger, more impetuous. Marlowe had trotted ahead not even looking back, her tail waving in the air like a flag to follow.

The other side of the pantry opened into the hallway. At first, I thought they’d go toward the west wing. That seemed to be where everything happened. Bodies, skeletons, who knew what would be next? To my relief, they veered off to the right continuing down the hall to the conservatory.

Oh no. Was something wrong in there now? Had Ed started work and uncovered something dastardly or, even worse, been injured? I’d given Ed the day off but it would be just like him to come in and work anyway. The room was off the beaten path and no one would be walking past it to look in and see if someone was hurt in there.

We came to the French doors that opened into the room and my fears were put to rest when I saw it was empty except for the plants Millie had given me. Maybe the cats were trying to remind me to water them.

“Nice try, guys. Everything looks fine in here.” I scanned the room. Even in its dilapidated state, it was clearly once lovely. Large Palladian windows—most of which were temporarily boarded up—ran the length of the room and French doors opened to the overgrown garden. The moon shone in from the one window not boarded, creating a swatch of silver light on the floor. Wait… what was that shadow on the floor, over by the giant ficus tree?

The cats trotted over. Uh oh… was this why they’d come here? Dread washed over me. The cats always seemed to insist on summoning humans when something terrible had happened.

The electricity had been shut off to this room, so I ventured in to get a closer look. I bent down slowly… phew! It was only dirt.

“Hey, did you guys do this?” I asked.

The cats looked up at me, the moonlight reflected in their eyes, making them glow bright. I inspected the ficus. Yep, looked like someone had rummaged in the dirt. I was pretty sure the cats liked to dig, I’d seen them digging outside.

“It’s not nice to dig in the house. That’s for outside.”

They gave off some confused meows. Nero batted at the dirt.

“Don’t spread it around or you won’t get any treats.” I tapped the plate with the cheese.

Mew!

Marlowe had something in the corner. I hoped it wasn’t a mouse. She crouched down and swatted. It rolled out toward me. Thankfully too small to be a mouse. I bent down to pick it up. A shiny nail? Had Ed been working in here? He’d said he hadn’t started here yet.

I stood and looked around. I didn’t see any tools or any evidence that work had been done. The nail could have come from anywhere though, the cats were known for batting things around and then leaving them in other rooms. They particularly liked the plastic water bottle caps. They must have batted the nail in here all the way from the ballroom.

They were looking up at me as if expecting praise. I held the nail out to them.“I don’t think it’s a good idea to be batting nails all over the house. A guest could step on one and become injured.”

The cats looked at each other, shook their heads and trotted off. I looked back at the dirt as I left. Too bad I couldn’t train them to pick it up. I’d have to have Flora do it. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have plants in the house with the cats? And they must not be as smart as I’d been giving them credit for if they led me to their mess.

I followed them to the owner’s quarters, a cozy suite with a window overlooking the ocean. It was in a rounded turret and had a cute sitting area in the round part. The neutral shades of mocha and heather were soothing. I loved retreating here at the end of the day.

Millie had left quite a few of the antiques that decorated the room, but it also had some modern touches like a comfy microsuede sectional. I settled onto the couch and the cats jumped up beside me, looking expectantly from me to the cheese.

“I did promise you some, didn’t I?” I took the two small pieces and broke them up some more, then held one out to Nero, who sniffed it for what seemed like an hour before gently taking it.

“And you?” I held one out to Marlowe. She glanced at Nero who was still busy daintily eating, then sniffed twice and grabbed it.

I nibbled my piece and thought about the day. I was a bit disturbed by the conversation I’d overheard in the hallway. I certainly hoped people weren’t going to start spreading rumors about a murderous ghost. All the more reason to find the killer pronto.

But the murder investigation wasn’t the only thing I had on my plate. I had to juggle that along with my responsibilities for the town celebration. I had the ingredients for the loaf cake I planned to make all ready to go and I’d do another test run tomorrow morning. The pamphlets were already on the table. I just needed that book about the Oyster Cove Guesthouse history. Millie said that should be up here, so I put my snack down and went over to the antique oak bookcase in the turret part of the room.

Meow!

Nero hopped on top of the bookshelf and peered down at me.

“Where’s the book, buddy?” I waited for him to indicate the general location but all he did was stare at me.

“Okay…” I ran my fingers along the leather-bound spines of the books. Poetry.Uncle Tom’s Cabin. An Audubon Anthology. My fingers stopped at a large book.“Oyster Cove Town History. This must be it.”

Merooo… Marlowe stared at me from the back of the couch.

“Right, I thought so.” I took the book and flopped down on the couch. Nero trotted over. Both he and Marlowe seemed overly interested in the book, sniffing at it and putting their paws on it.

“You want to see what’s inside? I do too.” I opened the book, inhaling the vanilla scent of age-old paper. Inside were pictures of the guesthouse back in Jed’s day. It had been a large house but not nearly as large as it was now. Jed stood in front alongside a woman in a black dress with a voluminous skirt.

I pointed the woman out.“I guess this is Mrs. Jed.”

Nero smacked his paw on the page right above the description. Yep, Helena Biddeford. It was his wife.

“Maybe she’s the one who put him in the wall. What do you guys think?”

Meroo.

Marlowe pushed the edge of the book and it flipped to the next page.

“Going too slow for you?”

I flipped through, marveling at the old photos of the guesthouse and the town. Things had changed a lot over the centuries. There was a picture of a realistic drawing of Jedediah Biddeford with his family and household staff. He had his hand on a cane, the ring found on the skeleton clearly evident on his finger.

“I wonder which one of these children is Doris’s ancestor?” Doris hadn’t mentioned the name of the ancestor at the top of the Biddeford tree, but I looked at the inscription under the image anyway.

A familiar name caught my eye. Thomas Remington. Was that Myron’s ancestor?

I pulled the book closer to my face. He kind of looked like Myron. But this guy wasn’t a wealthy banker, he was a servant.

“Looks like Myron’s ancestor was Jedediah Biddeford’s butler,” I said out loud to the cats, who both were staring at me. “Funny how things work out, huh? He’s always boasting how his family was one of the first in Oyster Cove, but he makes it sound like they were part of the upper class.”

Meroo. Nero’s paw shot out and he riffled the pages, losing my place in the book.

“Yeah, I agree Myron sure is uppity considering where he came from.” I flipped back to the page just to double-check.

Meyawl! Marlowe whacked the cover of the book and I caught the pages before it snapped shut.

“Hey, I can’t read if—” Wait. Was their behavior an indication that I was on to something? They did have an uncanny way of knowing what was going on and it had seemed like they had helped me out during the last investigation, though I didn’t want to admit it at the time. Now that I’d spent more time with them, I was more inclined to consider that they might be smarter than everyone thought.

I broke off two more small pieces of cheese as a reward. I didn’t want to give them too much lest it upset their delicate systems. “I think you guys are trying to tell me something, aren’t you? Is this why Myron lied about being here last night? Does he have something to do with this?”

Meroo.

Merow.

The cats looked at me funny as if they didn’t understand what the reward was about, but they weren’t about to pass up cheese because they gobbled it down before head-butting my hand and practically shutting the book in their zeal to be petted.

Shutting the book wasn’t a bad idea. I didn’t need to read further. I was pretty sure I was onto something. Myron’s ancestor was the butler to Jedediah, and butlers always knew all their masters’ secrets. What if one of those secrets was the location of the treasure? And what if that location got passed down through the generations?

But if it had, wouldn’t someone have dug it up by now? Why would Myron wait so long and why was he over by the gazebo, which would be the least likely place for Jedediah to have buried it? Not to mention that Bob had been killed at the pond, which was very far from the gazebo. What if it was Myron who found the treasure and Bob who caught him and tried to take it? And did that mean there really was treasure after all?

Some of this didn’t add up, but one thing was fishy. Myron had lied about being here and if that didn’t indicate guilt about something, I didn’t know what did!

I might have to do some digging, but I knew one thing for sure—I was finally starting to understand what the cats were trying to tell me!

Nineteen

“Josie still does not quite understand what we are trying to tell her,” Marlowe said from her perch near the pantry the next morning as they watched Josie heat up the quiche in the oven.

“But at least she is open to the fact that we are trying to tell hersomething. She needs more work, but this is a start,” said Nero.

“Start schmart, she needs to listen to us now or she’s going to end up in trouble just like she did with the last murder.” Marlowe eyed the countertop where the dishes were drying. “We may need to do something drastic.”

Nero sighed.“I know. Unfortunately, she is going down the wrong path. She totally misinterpreted our hints about that history book. There are much more interesting suspects to pursue than Myron Remington.”

“True. Though it is interesting that his family was connected with the Biddefords. I thought I smelled something familiar on him too,” Marlowe said.

Nero glanced at the tortie as she strutted over to the countertop. Had Marlowe really developed such a keen sense of smell or was she just saying that to make herself seem smart? It was true Myron had smelled familiar, but it wasn’t because some ancestor had once worked in the house. No, Nero suspected there was an entirely different reason and he needed to clue Josie in on it.

“What are you kitties up to?” Josie stood hands on hips watching them. “Do you need a treat for all your good work last night?”

Nero gave her his most adorable head tilt.

Meow.

Josie opened the fridge and Marlowe hopped up onto the countertop and started batting at the dishes. Josie backed out of the fridge with a plate in her hand then scowled at Marlowe.“No, don’t do that. Especially not that Yale mug. Carla will have a fit.”

Josie picked Marlowe up and placed her on the floor then put down a small dish with some little bite-sized tidbits of steak inside.

“That’s very good steak, so you guys chew slowly and savor it.”

Marlowe eagerly got to work on the steak along with Nero.

“We’re going to have to push her in the right direction, somehow,” Nero said between mouthfuls. “We need to show her that Myron is not up to what she thinks he is.”

“But we don’t know for sure, do we?” Marlowe asked. “Hecouldbe the killer.”

“Perhaps. He could be involved, but remember that Juliette heard a woman in the confessional.” Nero finished off the last of the steak just as Ed O’Hara appeared in the doorway.

Nero knew the elderly gentleman had something of a crush on Josie, though their ages were mismatched. The smile on Ed’s face as he silently watched Josie work left little doubt. It was all harmless. Ed’s wife had passed a few years prior and he needed something to focus on. He would never actually try to ask Josie for a date. Besides, Josie was perfect for Millie’s nephew Mike. Everyone but Josie could see that.

“I could get to work on the ballroom again today, Ms. Waters,” Ed said.

Josie jerked and turned to look at him.“Oh, Ed! You scared me.”

“I snuck up on you like a ghost.” Ed smiled, the weathered lines around his eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, like Jedediah’s ghost.”

“I hope you’re not scared because of those rumors, they don’t mean nothing.”

“Well I certainly know that,” Josie said. “Even if half the town thinks a ghost killed Bob Biddeford.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Ed, if you got any work done in the conservatory, did you happen to tip over a plant?”

“No. I never got set up in there because you gave me the day off, then this morning I heard the ballroom had been cleared by the cops.” Ed’s gaze drifted to Nero and Marlowe. “Must’ve been those cats, because I certainly would have no reason to be in there.”

Josie frowned at them and Nero’s spirits sank. Though he wasn’t beholden to having the human like him, he still felt the need to be accepted by her. Though he considered Millie to be his real human, Josie was the one he had now, and her disapproval cut deeply. Besides, they weren’t the ones who made the mess. At least, not that time. Just another example of Josie misinterpreting their communications. He looked at Ed suspiciously, he was certain the old man had been in the conservatory, but why would he lie to Josie about it? He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Ed. But right now he had more important things to do.

“Bad kitties. I expect you not to do that anymore.”

Marlowe swished her tail and looked at Nero.“How do you like that? She thinks we made that mess.”

“Yeah. Well if she doesn’t know what’s good for her, we’re gonna have to show her what’s good for her.”

Nero took the opportunity to hop up on the counter while Josie was distracted by talking to Ed. He pushed gently at the dishes. He didn’t want to push too hard lest they fall off onto the floor and smash. Some of them were dishes that Millie had collected for the guesthouse and he couldn’t bear to see them in pieces on the floor. Somehow, he needed to get Josie thinking along the right lines.

“I’ve just taken a quiche out of the oven.” Josie gestured toward the steaming pie plate on the counter. “I was about to cut pieces for the serving tray if you’d like one.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ed came into the kitchen and Josie turned her back, not even watching Nero’s attempts at communication.