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

“She’s not even watching us,” Marlowe said, disgusted.

“Are those cats supposed to be on the counter?” Ed asked.

Josie turned around, pressing her lips together when she saw Nero at the dishes.“No. And luckily our building inspector is a little bit nicer than the last one and probably wouldn’t rat me out, but still I don’t relish being closed down by the Board of Health.”

She marched over to the counter and picked up Nero—not very gently, either—and plopped him down on the floor. “Now you stay down there. I don’t want to have to banish you guys from the kitchen.”

Josie went back to cutting up the quiche while Nero and Marlowe rolled their eyes at each other.

“Doesn’t Josie know that cats don’t do as they’re told?” Marlowe asked.

“No kidding. Human orders rankle us and we tend to do the exact opposite.”

“Yeah and in this case it’s for her own good. Maybe once she’s not distracted with Ed she’ll understand what we’re trying to say. But we may have to take more drastic action.”

“I’ll get her to understand.” Nero hopped up on the counter again. He pushed the Yale mug so that the edge of it hung precariously over the lip of the countertop.

Ed looked up from the slice of the quiche Josie had put on a dainty floral plate in front of him.“Hey! That cat’s gonna knock that mug to the floor.”

Josie whirled around, her eyes zoning in on the blue Yale mug. Her hand shot out and snatched it from harm’s way.

“Bad kitty. Now if you broke that Carla would be—” And then Josie’s eyes widened. She glanced at the mug, then back at Nero. Their eyes locked and in that instant Nero knew Josie had finally gotten the message he was trying to send.

“Finally,” Marlowe said as she jumped onto the counter to join him.

Movement outside the window caught Nero’s eye.

“Isn’t that Harry and Stubbs out there in the shrubs?” Marlowe asked.

Nero craned his neck to see further. The tortie was right. The two cats were pacing back and forth and looking over at the guesthouse.“It is them… it looks like they’ve found something important.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I stared at the Yale coffee mug in my hand. Myron had gone to a fancy college, had it been Yale? Is that why Myron had been at the gazebo when Bob was killed at the pond? He was working with someone else. Carla. Hadn’t Doris said that Carla wasn’t very bright because she’d been lurking around near the gazebo?

Maybe that’s why Stella had said something about Myron not deserving treasure. Maybe she had her sights set on Myron and saw him with Carla. Had Bob known about Carla and Myron and threatened to tell on her? But would that really be worth killing him over? Maybe it would if treasure was involved.

Myron and Carla were around the same age. If Myron had also attended Yale, it was possible they knew each other, but I had to find out for sure.

But first, I had to get this apple-pecan bread in the oven.

I sliced off another piece of quiche for Ed and sent him off to the west wing, then chopped the pecans and apples and mixed eggs, oil and vanilla, setting everything aside while I mixed together the flour, baking soda and cinnamon. I combined the wet ingredients with the dry into a thick batter and poured some into one of the tiny loaf pans and shoved it in the oven, then set the timer for ninety minutes after double-checking the directions for cooking time on Millie’s recipe. I wasn’t going to let it burn again!

I quickly got the breakfast trays together. The guests would be down in ten minutes but usually I could find Doris wandering around downstairs. If I could get her aside privately I might be able to find out when Carla went to Yale. I knew that Myron had gone after we graduated high school, so if Carla attended in the late 1980s it was possible they knew each other. I didn’t want Carla to overhear the question though, so I had to catch Doris before Carla came down.

I rushed over to the parlor. No sign of Doris. Maybe she was in the back sitting room? Nope. The conservatory? Nada. Darn. I was coming back down the hall when I saw Earl staring at the door to the west wing. It was open, likely because Ed was moving tools in. I could hear Ed inside setting things up.

“Can I help you?” I asked Earl.

He turned around, his face white as a sheet.“Look, Jedediah’s ghost has left the door open! He’s coming for the rest of us!”

“Hardly,” Ed’s voice came from inside. “I’m just coming back to shut it. Had my hands full with my tools.”

“That’s just the carpenter, Ed. Besides, why would Jedediah be coming back to kill you? Nobody got the treasure, right? And the curse was that he was gonna do away with anyone who had his treasure.” I steered Earl away from the door as Ed shut it from the other side.

Ed was supposed to keep the door shut so that guests didn’t wander onto the worksite, and he was very good about it. I glanced down. There was no gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. If the cats had batted a nail from this wing into the conservatory, I was sure they would have had to bat it under this door. The other exits were too far away. But there was no gap to push it through, so if the cats hadn’t moved the nail, then how did it get into the conservatory? Had Ed lied about being in there? Maybe I needed to expand my suspect list to include Ed, but right now I had to focus on finding out about Carla and Myron.

Earl frowned.“Yeah, but somebody killed Bob.”

“Are you sure that had something to do with the treasure?”

Earl’s eyes narrowed. “I thought so. This place might not be safe with a murdering ghost around.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Not only was the notion of a murdering ghost absurd, I sure as heck didn’t need him spreading that rumor around town.

“I’m sure the police will find out that whoever killed Bob was no ghost.” Or, more likely, my mother, Millie and I would.

Earl didn’t look convinced. He glanced down at the mug in my hand. “Is that Carla’s mug?”

I’d almost forgotten I was carrying it. “Yeah. I washed it out and was returning it to the dining room so she could have it for her morning coffee.”

“Thought so. She acts like that thing is the Holy Grail, for crying out loud, brings it everywhere. It’s kind of embarrassing. You should see her at the office. She has a fit if anyone touches it.”

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that I’d encountered Earl in the hallway. He’d probably know what years Carla went to Yale. And the conversation about the mug was the perfect opportunity to ask. Not to mention no one else was in the hallway to hear us.

“I guess it’s quite an accomplishment to graduate from Yale though, right?”

Earl shrugged.“I guess. I went to Stanford.”

I nodded.“That’s a good school too. Are you older than Carla? Were you guys in college the same time?”

“I’m a few years older. Graduated in 1987.”

I did the math. Myron and Carla would have been at Yale at the same time. It was possible they’d worked together to kill Bob… but why?

“Is breakfast ready?” Earl asked, startling me out of my reverie.

“Almost. Go ahead in there and I will get everything set up for you.”

I rushed back into the kitchen after putting the mug on the sideboard where Carla liked it to be placed right next to the coffee urn, which I noticed with approval Flora had already set to percolating.

I rushed back into the kitchen, gathered the breakfast items together and walked them out to the sideboard.

I hovered in the doorway, watching everyone eat contentedly, if not a bit solemnly. They were shoveling in the quiche. No one complained about the lack of pancakes.Had one of them killed Bob?

My eyes drifted to the Yale mug. That mug could be the key to uncovering what really happened. But I still wondered if Paula had really seen Flora. Maybe Paula was in on it with her sister and Myron and they were trying to point the finger in Flora’s direction. And what about Ed? I didn’t dare mention my suspicions about him to Mom and Millie, they’d known him for years and would defend him as they had Flora. I didn’t want the killer to be Ed either. Myron and Carla were much better suspects in my book.

The crunch of tires on gravel pulled my gaze to the window. Mom and Millie were here and I couldn’t wait to tell them what I’d discovered.

I heard the kitchen door open and then Millie’s voice. “Josie is something burning?”

Twenty

I rushed in to the kitchen to see Millie rescuing the loaf pan from the oven. She put it on the counter and waved the smoke away, then sniffed.

“Oh, it’s the apple-pecan bread.” Then she sniffed deeper. “I think it needs more cinnamon. How long did you put it in for?”

“Ninety minutes just like your recipe said.” I gestured toward the timer on the microwave still ticking down. “It still has ten minutes.”

Millie looked at me as if she felt sorry for me.“Josie, that time was for a full loaf pan. You have to reduce it for the smaller pans.”

Darn. Who knew that you cooked things for less time when they are in a smaller pan? I probably should have. Lucky thing I’d decided to start small with my experiment and I still had some of the batter left. Besides, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

“Never mind about that.” I glanced back out into the hallway to make sure none of the Biddefords had followed me in. “I think I’ve discovered something.”

“Do tell,” Millie said.

“Remember how Myron lied about being here the night Bob was killed?”

“Yep.” Millie tasted the batter I’d mixed, then puckered her lips and rummaged in the spice drawer.

“Do you know where he went to college?”

Mom huffed.“Who could forget? He went to Yale. His father always made a big deal out of that, making the rest of us feel like our kids were inferior.”

“Why do you ask?” Millie sprinkled some cinnamon into the batter, grabbed a spoon and mixed it in.

“Well, Carla went to Yale too. She even has a mug that she makes me wash out so she can drink out of it. That’s how I put two and two together when I washed the mug this morning.” I hadn’t done that all on my own, though. Nero had practically pushed that mug off the counter. Had he been trying to point me in the right direction? Or had he just been trying to smash the mug on the floor because he also thought it was ridiculous that Carla brought her own mug?

“So you think they knew each other?” Mom asked.

I nodded and opened the oven door for Millie to slide in the two tiny loaf pans she’d filled with batter. I made a mental note as she set the timer to thirty-five minutes.

Millie shut the oven door, a twinkle in her eye.“We found out something about Myron last night too. His ancestor was Jedediah Biddeford’s butler.”

“I found that too! In the history book that you wanted me to bring for the table at the town celebration.” The cats had been interested in that book as well. Except it had seemed like theydidn’t want me to read it. Maybe I was reading too much into their actions?

Millie’s face fell in disappointment. “You already knew?”

I nodded, pushing down the pang of guilt at Millie and Mom’s looks of disappointment. Investigating was a source of pride for them and they clearly didn’t like the idea that I’d also discovered their key clue.

Millie broke into a genuine smile and turned to my mother.“Josie is turning into a good detective. We should include her in all our cases.”

Cases? It sounded as if they were contemplating becoming private investigators or something.

I held my hands up in front of me, palms out.“I think I have plenty to do just running the guesthouse.”

Mom looked me over as if I were an unworthy job applicant.“I don’t know. I suppose she might come in handy to drive us around while we interrogate suspects and look for clues.”

“Can we stick to the problem at hand?” The last thing I wanted to do with my days was drive my mother and Millie around. Hopefully this would be the last murder Oyster Cove would see for a long time and there would be no need to investigate anything in the future anyway.

Millie pressed her lips together.“Fine. Myron might have gone to school with Carla and his ancestor was Jed’s butler. Why would they kill Bob?”

“Well, I was thinking that a butler would know all the secrets of his master and maybe Myron’s ancestor knew where the treasure was buried. Maybe that information got passed down in the family and Myron came to dig it up.”

Millie and Mom looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Maybe Josie isn’t a good fit for our investigative exploits after all,” Mom said.

“Yeah, your theory is full of holes,” Millie added.

I crossed my arms over my chest.“How so?”

“Well, for one, if Myron’s family already knew where the treasure was, why wouldn’t someone have dug it up before?” Millie asked.

“And for two,” my mother added. “Why would he need to combine forces with Carla?”

They had a point, but I wasn’t letting go of my theory that easily. “Maybe the family didn’t know where the treasure was all this time, but the discovery of Jed’s skeleton and the curse rumor resurfacing prompted Myron to look through some family documents and he found something that made him think he knew where the treasure was.”

“He did seem awfully interested in that skeleton,” Millie said.

“And he did lie about being here, which means he was up to something,” Mom added. “But what’s the connection to Carla?”

“Maybe they were rekindling an old affair,” I suggested.

Millie leaned in toward us and lowered her voice.“Can’t say as I’d blame her, her husband doesn’t seem like much fun.”

“And Bob did threaten to tell on her about something. But why wouldn’t she just divorce Henry then? Bob outing an affair doesn’t seem worth killing over,” Mom said, then added, “I have another theory, maybe whatever Myron found wasn’t a precise location and he needed some family information from Carla to narrow it down so they partnered up.”

“And Bob found out and was going to steal the treasure so they did him in,” Millie added. “That makes sense.”

“Do you think there really is treasure then?” Mom asked.

Millie shrugged.“Good question. I doubt it because if Myron and Carla dug it up, they’d have taken off together, wouldn’t they?”

“Treasure or not, it’s something to look into,” Mom said. “Flora is still a suspect and we need to help Seth close this one fast before those rumors about this place being haunted spread too far and hurt bookings.”

Millie tapped her finger on her lips.“Indeed. But how can we approach Seth with this? He’s already suspicious of any clues I give him because he thinks we are biased as to Flora’s innocence.”

“I know the dates that Carla and Myron were at Yale, which proves they could have known each other,” I said.

“Yes, but that’s not concrete evidence. We need something more.”

Mom snapped her fingers.“The shoes! Paula saw fancy Italian leather shoes. Earl was wearing Nikes but he’s not the only one who likes to dress fancy.”

Millie put her hands on her hips.“Those could have been Myron’s shoes she saw.”

“So all we have to do is get Paula to identify the shoes, preferably while Myron is wearing them and in front of Seth Chamberlain so that he’ll have his physical evidence,” I said.

“Easier said than done,” Millie said, peeking into the oven to check on the loaf cake. “We need to get Paula to run into Myron somehow when Carla isn’t around.”

“I know how we can do it,” Mom said. “The beer tent is open today and they’re having free samples. All we have to do is mention that to Paula and drop the hint that we are on our way to the beer tent, then offer to give her a ride.”

Millie nodded.“And once we’re down there, we will just take a little stroll past Myron’s bank table. I know he’s there today trying to trap tourists into investing in something at the bank.”

“But how do we get Seth in on this?” I asked.

Millie whipped out her phone.“Easy. I’ll call him and bribe him to come and meet us there. I just happen to have some of his favorite cookies in the car.”

Twenty-One

“I think the beer tent is over there.” Paula twisted around, pointing in a direction behind us and almost stumbling as she pulled her heel out from where it had sunk into the grass. I grabbed her elbow to steady her.

“I know. We’re just going this way to get our free tickets,” Millie said as we propelled her toward Myron’s tent.

Millie glanced at me behind Paula’s back and grimaced for telling the lie. A little white lie was necessary sometimes in an investigation. Still, Paula wouldn’t miss out on her free beer—she’d be well rewardedaftershe identified Myron’s shoes to Seth. Hopefully Myron would be wearing the same ones, or at least something similar that Paula would recognize and spark Seth’s suspicions.

“I hope Jed’s ghost doesn’t show up here.” Paula scanned the crowd. “Though I guess he won’t be after me. I didn’t take any treasure. I wonder if Bob did? And if he did maybe Jed took it back because no one’s found it yet and Bob certainly didn’t take it with him. So if Jed took it, there won’t be any more killings because he’ll have his treasure and the curse will be broken.”

Paula’s train of thought was pretty logical even if it was a bit rambling, but my mother glanced over at her as if she were crazy. “I doubt it was Jed who killed Bob.”

“Well, that’s the rumor I heard,” Paula huffed. “Who else could it be? Certainly not your maid that I saw running from the scene. She’s too old, now that I think of it.” Paula frowned as if considering her own words. “Or maybe itwas your maid. Some of those old people are pretty strong.”

Flora had been acting strangely. I had no idea if she actually was strong enough to have clobbered Bob, but I saw her move the antique carved-mahogany couch out from the wall to get behind it with the vacuum, so she was pretty strong. And what was this business with the vacation?

But if Flora had stolen the treasure why would she still be hanging around the guesthouse? Unless she hadn’t actuallyfound the treasure and Bob’s murder was for nothing. What was I thinking? Flora wouldn’t kill someone, no matter how valuable a treasure was involved.

Up ahead at Myron’s table, I saw a familiar figure lurking about. Annabel Drescher stood in front of one of the plastic displays that held interest-rate information. She snatched a pamphlet out and looked around furtively. I caught her eye and waved, but she pretended not to notice me. Maybe she didn’t want to be seen associating with someone whose maid was accused of murder?

“Looks like Arlene has some competition.” Paula’s gaze was pinned on Annabel as she walked away. “Fancy duds and even shoes like Earl’s.”

Wait, what? I swivel around to check out Annabel’s shoes. Paula was right, they were Italian leather similar to Earl’s. Suddenly I was second-guessing my Carla–Myron theory. Maybe Flora wasn’t lying about the vacation. But why would Annabel make that up… unless she was trying to cover something up or distract us.

“Oh look, you can get a home-equity line of credit for three percent, maybe you should tap into that for the renovations?” Millie’s comment redirected my attention from Annabel to Myron’s table.

Paula inspected the pamphlets closer, her eyes clouding over in confusion.“Where are the tickets for the beer tent?”

“Beer tent?” Myron’s eyes darted from Paula to me. “Are you interested in a loan?”

I glanced around for Seth. Millie had said he’d be meeting us here and we had to stall until he showed up so we could get Paula to identify the shoes in front of him. Mom jabbed me in the ribs and jerked her head toward the big display touting the low-interest-rate loans. Guess that would be a good way to stall.

“As a matter fact I am,” I said. It wasn’t totally a lie, either. Extra money would help me complete the renovations sooner. Too bad I didn’t actually have much money to make the payments until business picked up. It was a catch twenty-two. I needed the loan to accommodate more guests, but I needed more guests to pay the monthly rate on the loan. “You know, I have that whole west wing over at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse and the sooner I can get it renovated the sooner I can get more guests in. Do you have anything special, preferably with a delayed payment schedule?”

Approval radiated from Millie at my quick reaction, but before Myron could launch into his spiel, Seth showed up.

“Hello, ladies.” Seth nodded at each of us, but his gaze lingered on Millie.

“I made your favorites, Seth.” Millie held up the bag of cookies and opened it, tipping the bag forward so we could all see inside. She tipped the bag further forward, letting one cookie slide out onto the grass as if by accident. “Oh, dear me. I’ve dropped one.”

She dropped to her knees and made a show of rooting around in the grass under the table for the cookie.“What lovely shoes, Myron. You’re always such a sharp dresser.”

Myron tugged at his tie uncomfortably, a look of confusion crossing his face.“Um… thanks.”

Millie tugged on Paula’s arm. It didn’t take much to get her to stumble and Millie pulled her down so she could see Myron’s shoes. “Aren’t those lovely, Paula?”

“Sure, they’re very nice but I don’t see any beer-tent tickets.”

“We’ll get to the beer tent. Don’t you worry about that. But do these shoes look a little familiar to you?” Millie asked.

Myron shot up from his seat.“What is the meaning of this? Why are you so interested in my shoes?”

Seth was watching carefully. He might seem like a dunderhead, but he actually could be rather sharp sometimes. He’d caught on that Millie had an ulterior motive here and was smart enough to keep quiet and see where this would lead. Perhaps all of Mom and Millie’s meddling in his investigations really had given him respect for their skills.

“Familiar?” Paula stumbled to her feet and glanced around behind us. “If there’s no tickets I’m just going to—”

“Take another look, Paula,” Millie said. “I think these might be the shoes that woke you up the night Bob was murdered.”

Paula’s eyes widened. She bent down again to look at the shoes. She scrunched up her face, closed her eyes and then opened them one at a time. “Well, they are fine Italian leather like the ones I saw. Very similar. Let me see the backs. I mostly saw the backs as the person was running away.”

“I certainly will not.” Myron looked at Seth. “Do I have to?”

Seth shrugged.“What’s the harm? Unless you have something to hide.”

Myron marched out from behind the table and spun around.

Paula nodded.“Yep very similar to the shoes I saw.”

“Similar? Or are theyexactly the shoes?” Seth asked.

“Well, I can’t say for sure. I mean I was just waking up and my memory is fuzzy. There are a lot of fancy shoes like these, in fact I saw a woman wearing similar shoes earlier.” Paula glanced in the direction that Annabel had gone.

“She’s not a reliable witness. I heard that she’s drunk all the time!” Myron said.

“I’m not drunkall the time.” Paula crossed her arms over her chest.

“I demand to know what this is about.” Myron looked at Seth.

“Paula saw someone running from where the murder happened and they wore expensive shoes,” Seth said. “Apparently Millie here is playing amateur detective and thinks Paula might recognize the shoes as yours.”

“Running from where the murder happened? But that was centuries ago, why I couldn’t…” Myron’s face relaxed a little. “Oh! You mean the recent murder, not the skeleton they found in the wall.”

“Of course. That’s what we’re investigating. Can’t really investigate a murder from three centuries ago.”

Myron blew out a breath.“Well that’s ridiculous. Why would I kill one of the Biddefords?”

“You have a family connection to the Biddefords,” Mom said.

Myron made a face.“Yeah, about three hundred years back. What would that have to do with anything recent?”

“There was treasure rumored to be buried there,” Millie said. “Maybe one of your ancestors knew where it was and when you went to dig it up Bob had gotten there first.”

Myron laughed.“You believe that treasure rumor? What would I want with some old moldy treasure chest that probably doesn’t have anything of modern value in it? I have plenty of money. I own a bank. And besides, I wouldn’t waste my time. That treasure doesn’t even exist according tomy family lore.”

Did Myron have some family intel about the treasure or was he just saying that as a cover?

“Why did you lie about being there then?” I asked.

Myron turned sheepish. He glanced around to make sure none of the other people in the tent were listening.“I had a good reason—that stupid treasure hunt actually messed it up. I was there, but not because of the treasure.” He glanced at Seth. “I have proof. Normally I’d make you get a search warrant, but I’m not guilty and I want you to stop accusing me and find the real killer, so I’d behappy to show it to you.”

Millie looked skeptical.“You would? That’s a little fishy. If you really have a reason, seems like you’d be more irate about being accused.”

“Oh, I am. But I don’t want to ruin the bank’s reputation, which would happen if a crowd witnessed you accusing me, or worse, hauling me off in cuffs.”

“Okay, let me see this proof,” Seth said.

“Me too,” Millie added.

“Notyou.” Myron glared at Millie. “You’re just a civilian and it’s none of your business. Just the sheriff.”

Paula crossed her arms over her chest and pouted at Millie.“You said we were going to get free beer at the beer tent.”

“I’ll take you,” Mom said, and headed off with Paula.

Seth leveled a look at me and Millie.“Well, you heard the man. We don’t need civilians seeing someone’s private business.”

“Come on, Josie, let’s go look over there at the Frobusher’s local honey display.” She shot a coquettish glance at Seth and batted her eyelashes before pulling me aside and whispering in my ear. “I’ll get it out of him later, but for now let’s just let Myron show it to him.”

We wandered away, both keeping an eye on Seth and Myron. Myron showed him something on his cell phone and Seth nodded approvingly. Darn! Whatever Myron was showing him must’ve satisfied Seth.

Seth started walking away and Millie did an about-face.“Yoo-hoo, Sethy!” She summoned him over in her most provocative manner. “Now, I know it’s probably a big secret and all, but I don’t think it would hurt if you could tell us what Myron showed you.”

She walked her fingers up his arm playfully. Seth smiled but took her hand away gently.

“I can’t tell you, but I can tell you one thing: he does have proof of why he was there and that proof has a timestamp of when the coroner has told us Bob was killed. The pond is a fifteen-minute walk from the gazebo in the daytime, probably longer in the dark, and we all know Myron is no woodsman. It would take him an hour to get through the thick overgrowth. I don’t think he could be the killer.”

“So, it must have been one of the Biddefords,” Millie said.

Seth’s face turned solemn. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?” Millie asked.

“We processed all of the shovels we took from the carriage house. There were six shovels in the shed, one for each member of the Biddeford family, except Bob whose shovel was found next to him at the murder scene. And not one of them has any DNA from Bob on the metal end—the blade. The coroner has determined Bob was killed with the metal part of the shovel, but the only shovel that matched his DNA was the one Bob used, and that only had epithelia on the handle. Nothing on the blade, which substantiates Doris Biddeford’s claim that Bob took off on his own but the rest of them stayed together.”

“He wasn’t killed with one of the shovels in the carriage house?” I asked. Something about Doris’s claim didn’t sit right. Hadn’t she asked the others at breakfast before Bob’s body was found, if anyone found the treasure? If they all stayed together she would have known if anything was found. Had she lied to the police?

Seth shook his head.“Nope. He was killed with another shovel, so the murder weapon must be out there somewhere.”

“Half the town had shovels, the store was sold out,” I said. Everyone except Myron, who had said he couldn’t get one because Flora had gotten the last one. Which made me wonder… where was Flora’s shovel? Had she taken it home or was it on the premises somewhere?

“That’s right,” Seth agreed. “But I am afraid half the town wasnot seen running from the scene by an eyewitness—only one person was. And that person is now my main suspect.”

“Seth Chamberlain, you can’t be serious!” Millie said. “What motive would she have?”

“That remains to be seen.” A look of regret passed over Seth’s face. “Unfortunately, unless new evidence comes to light, I’m going to be bringing Flora in for questioning and you better hope there isn’t another shovel out there with her fingerprints on one end and Bob’s DNA on the other.”

Twenty-Two

“It simply can’t be Flora,” Millie insisted later on when we were back in the kitchen of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. She was vigorously beating together batter for a new batch of apple-pecan bread with extra cinnamon. “She’s been with the guesthouse since I was a little girl. My parents hired her. She’s a great-grandma, for crying out loud!”

It was just the two of us in the kitchen since my mom had texted that she and Paula had found a ride home from the beer tent and were staying for a few more. Apparently Paula was good company over a mug of beer.

Millie had actually stayed behind too, to try to wrangle more information out of Seth, and I’d driven home by myself. He’d dropped her off at the guesthouse a little bit later.

“I don’t know,” I hesitated. “A lot of the clues do point to her.”

I didn’twant it to be Flora. Even though she was the world’s worst maid, she was starting to grow on me. She had a certain grandmotherly way about her, sort of like Sophia fromThe Golden Girls, but grumpier.

Even so, I had to admit some things about Flora’s story didn’t add up. Then again, I’d just added a few suspects to my mental suspect list. “I have my suspicions about a few other people too.”

Millie turned to look at me.“Really? Who?”

“Annabel Drescher, for one. Paula said her shoes were like Earl’s and she is doing a lot of renovations on her travel agency, so might need treasure-money. Plus, it seemed like she was avoiding us and Flora said she never went in to book a vacation. Maybe Annabel has something to hide.”

Millie considered this, then shook her head.“Kind of far-fetched that she would kill Bob but I’ll keep her in mind. Who is the other person?”

“Ed O’Hara.”

“Ed? You must be joking. Why he’s the nicest man you’d want to meet. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why do you suspect him?”

That was true, but wasn’t it always the nice ones that turned out to be the killer? “I think he was sneaking around in the conservatory.”

“The conservatory? What’s that got to do with any of this? That part of the house wasn’t even built back in Jed’s day and besides, don’t you have work for him in there?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t supposed to be doing that yet.”

Millie scowled at me.“I think you are grasping at straws. Do you have some reason to think Ed being in the conservatory has something to do with Bob’s death? Or the treasure?”

She had a point. All I had was a nail that could have gotten in there in a dozen ways. I guess Iwas getting carried away.

Millie must have taken my silence for agreement because she went back to considering the Biddefords as prime suspects.“Just because those shovels didn’t have any of Bob’s blood on them doesn’t mean one of the Biddefords isn’t the killer.” Millie beat the batter more vigorously.

“True. I mean, if they were clever, they could have clonked him over the head and switched shovels. Besides, I think Doris lied about them all being together.” I much preferred Doris as a suspect over Ed anyway. “But then where is the shovel that killed Bob? And where is Flora’s?”

“I don’t know, seems like Seth would have confiscated it from her if he thinks she’s a suspect.” Millie paused her beating and turned to me. “Do you think Doris lied because she killed her son?”

“I’m not sure. She was pretty upset about the business failing and Bob was threatening everyone. If he made good on any of those threats, it wouldn’t be good for business,” I said. “Maybe she thought that the treasure curse and ghost would make a good cover. Someone has been pushing that ghost rumor pretty hard around town.”

“Would Doris really think that Seth would believe that a ghost killed someone?”

Millie and I exchanged a glance. Seth wasn’t the sharpest pencil but I didn’t think he believed in murdering ghosts. But maybe Doris thought he did.

“We have to figure out what is going on with Flora.” The missing shovel bothered me. Seth had said the Biddefords’ shovels had been tested and none of them had been used to kill Bob. If Doris was the killer, then how had she pulled that off? On the other hand, Flora had been making herself scarce around the guesthouse lately. Was that so she could avoid Seth because she knew that he was going to ask for her shovel?

“Butwhy would she kill Bob? I doubt there is even any treasure and she never mentioned needing money,” Millie said, almost to herself. “Maybe I should’ve given her a raise before I sold the guesthouse.”

Was I not paying Flora enough? But she barely did anything. I made a mental note to give her a raise anyway once profits increased. If she wasn’t rotting away in a jail cell.

“Myron could have used a shovel from home. I mean just because the store was sold out doesn’t mean a thing. I’m sure there are some shovels hanging around that big estate he lives on. Maybe his proof that he showed Seth was fake?” I said.

“Oh, that.” Millie fluffed her hair, her cheeks turning crimson. “I got that out of Seth behind the Chamber of Commerce tent.”

Best not to ask what she’d had to do behind the tent to get it out of him. “So what was it?”

Millie grabbed a loaf pan and started pouring the batter in.“Apparently one of your guests is taking out a loan to buy out more than fifty percent of the stock in the cheese-sculpting business.”

“Seriously?” This was big news. Why hadn’t she mentioned that when she first came in?

“Yeah, I thought it was important too, but it’s not because it clears Myron as well as one of the Biddefords. And it also proves that Doris is lying.”

“Wait, one of them was going to steal the company out from under the rest of the family? Was it Bob? Is that why he was killed because someone found out and wanted to stop him from taking control?”

It wasn’t totally ridiculous. After all, the company was failing and the siblings were at odds. It did seem prudent for one of them to buy the others out, take control and dictate a course of action that might bring the company back to its former glory. At least, I hoped so for Doris’s sake. “But why would they get a loan from a bank all the way out here? Their business is in New Jersey.”

“Turns out you were partially right about Myron and Carla. They did know each other from Yale. They weren’t having an affair though, she prevailed upon him to get this loan because she didn’t want to go with anyone local to them because she wanted secrecy.” Millie glanced around to make sure no Biddefords were lurking within hearing distance. “You can imagine what a ruckus that would cause if the family found out someone was attempting a hostile takeover.”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine that Bob would have liked it much. I wonder if that’s what Bob was threatening her about?”

“It could’ve been. But I don’t think she’s the one who killed Bob because Seth said it’s one of those online documents that you sign electronically and it’s timestamped. Apparently, that’s why they didn’t go to the bank and did the dirty deed here in the gazebo.” Millie shoved thepan into the oven. “Carla already knew her family would be digging outside and that they wouldn’t be anywhere near the gazebo since that wasn’t built in Jed’s day. She figured it would be the perfect place to meet him without her family asking a lot of questions about where she was going. They’d all be focused on where they thought the treasure was and no one would be paying much attention to her. The timestamp is shortly before the time of death for Bob, so that gives both Myron and Carla an alibi. Seth said there was no way they could have gotten from the gazebo to the pond that quickly.”

“Unless they signed it while they were killing Bob. How does he even know they were actually at the gazebo?” I asked.

“GPS coordinates,” Millie said. “Besides, what motive would they have? Once the papers were signed Carla could buy the stock and it would all be out in the open anyway, so Bob telling on her was no threat. And Myron got to sell a loan so he wouldn’t care about Bob.”

“Good point, but the cats were specifically showing me…” I looked around the room. “Hey, where are the cats?” They usually ran in at the first sight of Millie.

“Probably napping somewhere or outside with their friends.”

I frowned remembering the cats I’d seen at the crime scene. Were Nero and Marlowe in some kind of cat gang?

“What were you saying about the cats anyway, dear?” Millie continued.

“Oh nothing. I just sort of thought that maybe they were pointing me toward Myron and Carla.”

“Oh, they might have been. Nero and Marlowe are very perceptive. They know things. And of course they see things that humans can’t see. But even if they were pointing you toward Myron and Carla, it could’ve been to tell you that you were on the wrong track,” Millie said wisely.

“Great. Well, this doesn’t help us clear Flora.”

“I know. That is a problem, but I’m sure she must have an explanation for all these things that appear to point to her. Things are not always as they seem, you know.”

The kitchen door opened and Mike strode in with my mom giggling behind him. He shot me an apologetic glance.“I found your mom dancing down at the beer tent. Seemed like it was a good idea to take her home.”

Mom slouched into a kitchen chair and hiccupped out a sentence.“Yeah. That Oyster Rock Brew sure has a kick to it.”

“New local beer,” Mike said by way of explanation.

Mom cradled her head in her arms on the table and Millie said,“I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

Mike smiled at my mom then turned his pearly whites on me.“This brings back memories, Sunshine. Like the time I found you drunk in a beer tent back in high school. I think that was the first time you went drinking. You acted a lot like your mom is now. Except when you—”

“Never mind that,” I cut him off. That day had not been one of my finest moments. I didn’t want to remember how Mike had saved my ass by dragging me out of that beer tent where I was holding court with a bunch of college guys.

Truth be told, I was grateful he’d barged in and pulled me away, but my memories of the actual events were a bit fuzzy. I had the ridiculous feeling that he’d kissed me that day, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Even so, my cheeks burned and my heartbeat sped up when my gaze met his.

Was Mike’s memory of that day the same as mine? I saw something flicker in his eyes, then his gaze turned suspicious. “So, what were you guys up to down there?”

Millie’s expression was all fake innocence and sweetness. “Whatever do you mean? We were simply making sure the Oyster Cove Guesthouse table was set up properly.”

“Uh huh.” Mike looked like he didn’t believe a word. “And that’s why you needed to bring Paula? She’s upstairs passed out by the way. I drove her home with Rose.” He leaned against the counter nonchalantly, folding his arms over his chest. “And why were you over at Myron’s table with Paula and Sheriff Chamberlain?”

How did he know that? Had he been spying on us?

“They just happened to be there too.” Millie averted her gaze and pretended like she was checking on the loaf pan.

“Interesting. I just hope you aren’t up to something you shouldn’t be. The sheriff is perfectly capable of conducting an investigation.”

Millie sighed.“Of course he is. You don’t think we’re trying to figure out who killed Bob Biddeford on our own, do you? I mean if we were, we’d ask for your help.”

Mike didn’t look like he was buying Millie’s song and dance in the least.

“He should join forces withushh andweed find the killersfashter,” Mom slurred. Her head was resting on her arms atop the table but she’d turned it sideways to look at us.

“Aha!” Mike said. “I knew it.”

“Knew what? We’re just baking a loaf cake.” I pointed at the oven. “She’s drunk. Doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Mom frowned at me but was smart enough to hold her tongue.

“I’m not the enemy here and I’m not trying to ruin your fun. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Any of you.” His eyes drifted from Mom to Millie and then settled on me. “You’re all very precious to me.”

“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll be careful,” Millie said. “I don’t need to remind you that Rose, Josie and I are mature adults and don’t need you telling us what to do.”

Mike threw up his hands in exasperation.“Fine. I know I can’t tell you what to do. But I just hope you won’t get into any serious trouble.”

He pinned me with his gaze, but to his credit didn’t elaborate as to how we should back off on the investigation—or worse—how we should leave it to a professional like him.

“Yes, dear, and thank you for bringing Rose back.” Millie pushed him out the door. “I know you’re very busy downtown with your new job and all, so we’ll let you get back to it.”

Mike paused at the door and turned to me.“I’ll be back later to double-check the foundation and walls under the conservatory.”

He would? That was news to me.“Now? Ed won’t be starting in there for a while.”

He looked at me funny.“I think you might be focusing too much on investigating and not enough on what is going on in your own guesthouse. Some structural work was done to the walls already and I need to make sure it didn’t effect anything because of the weird way they constructed that room.”

Again, news to me.“What weird way?” Wait! Ed had already done something in there?

“When they added the conservatory, they used the wall of an existing barn that was adjacent to the house. That old barn had been original to the property. Did you notice that the foundation underneath is giant slabs of granite?”

I nodded.

“You can’t find those anymore. Anyway, since that existing wall and foundation is so old, I want to check the structural integrity before too much more work gets done.” Mike glanced at his watch then grimaced. “Gotta run. Have to inspect an addition over at the old Dunkirk place.”

Mike shot a smile in my direction and went out the door as I digested this new tidbit of information. Not only had Ed lied about being in the conservatory, but the foundation and one of the walls dated back to Jed’s time. My thoughts drifted back to the conversation between the Biddefords right after we’d discovered the skeleton. They’d been talking about looking for a map and wondering if one could have been in the wall with Jed. Doris had said she’d looked in there pretty good, but she hadn’t seen a map and since they’d all arrived at the same time none of them could have taken it without the others seeing. The thing was, there was one person who had been there before any of us and that person could have taken the map. Ed.

I looked up at my mother and Millie, a feeling of dread blooming in my stomach.“I think we better go talk to Ed.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Nero, Marlowe and the other cats crouched under an azalea bush, inspecting the shovel that protruded halfway out of the ground. There was no doubt why it had been buried. The coppery scent of blood and murderous intent hung maliciously in the air. A faint breeze rustled the leaves, the only sound breaking the silence as the cats watched Harry carefully brush away some of the dirt.

Nero was proud of Harry and the others. They’d sniffed around the grounds and uncovered this valuable clue, then ran to gather him and Marlowe from the guesthouse. Now, it had been carefully uncovered just enough so that they could lead the humans over to discover it on their own.

“Yep, that’s the murder weapon all right.” Harry sat back on his haunches and licked his paw, clearly satisfied with his own detective work.

“I can smell Bob’s blood on the end.” Juliette’s face wrinkled in distaste. “But I don’t smell the woman who made the confession.”

“So she’s not the killer.” Nero paced around the shovel, sniffing at it from all angles. Some of it was still buried, but his superior senses could sniff out the lingering scents even below the earth. Unfortunately, those scents did not provide clues as to who had wielded the weapon.

Marlowe glanced back in the direction of the guesthouse.“How are we going to get Josie out here to find a shovel?”

“Good question,” Nero said.

Boots looked at him with his usual air of superiority and Nero resisted the urge to hiss at the other cat. He knew Boots was mostly jealous of Nero’s superior skills of deduction, not to mention that Nero had white tuxedo markings on his chest while Boots only had white on his paws. The tuxedo gave Nero a debonair air and Boots had always been a little jealous.

“I thought Josie was starting to come around?” Stubbs said.

Nero sighed.“She is a work in progress. She is starting to become aware of our communication attempts. Why, just this morning I pushed her toward a clue about Carla Biddeford’s mug and I know for a fact she understood the mug was a clue.”

“She’s not up to speed yet though,” Marlowe added. “Last night she misconstrued our communications and even though she knew the mug was a clue, we aren’t sure she realized what we meant by it.”

“True,” Nero mused. “Perhaps it would be best if we try to bring Millie.”

“Millie is certainly a possibility.” Boots tugged at his whiskers. “But does Millie have enough clues to figure out who the killer is?”

Juliette swiped her paw toward the shovel.“The murder weapon seems like a big enough clue. I’m sure the police can do forensics on it and figure out who the killer is.”

Boots sniffed and turned up his nose.“Their lab tests are far inferior to our feline senses.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked. “Then you tell me.Who is the killer?”

“Well… err…” Boots glanced around the area. “There isn’t enough evidence to say. Having said that, are we sure Millie will even want to present the murder weapon to Sheriff Chamberlain?”

“What do you mean, will she want to? Of course she will, because it may prove who the killer is,” Marlowe said.

“Precisely my point,” Boots said. “What if the killer is someone Millie does not want revealed? Someone she is very close to and has a vested interest in protecting.”

Nero’s heart dropped at the thought. Normally he would never even think that Millie would shield a killer from the law. But Millie was loyal to those she loved and Nero knew that Sheriff Chamberlain had Flora on his suspect list. But it couldn’t be Flora, Nero was sure of it. He was a good judge ofcharacter and beneath Flora’s gruff exterior was a kind heart. Never mind that she’d lied about a few things and never mind that her shoes had smelled like burned loaf cakes. She simply couldn’t be the killer. But that begged the question… who was?

“Well one thing we know is it ain’t no ghost,” Stubbs said.

Nero would have laughed, if laughing wasn’t beneath him. “Of course not. Although half the town thinks it is. If there was a ghost, we would be seeing it.”

It was common knowledge that cats could see spirits from other planes, though humans seemed to find the idea hard to grasp. What did they think the cats were doing when they stared at the wall or into the corner, apparently at nothing? Since Nero hadn’t seen a ghost at the guesthouse, he was confident that Jed’s spirit had not returned.

“But that means the killer is much more dangerous. A human. A human who thinks he or she is getting away with murder,” Harry said.

Nero’s expression was grim as he looked down at the shovel. “We need to bring this to the attention of the humans before it’s too late. If my guess is correct, the killer is planning to dispose of it once the heat dies down.”

A rustling in the bushes startled them and they turned, ears like radar dishes figuring out what made the sound.

“Uh oh,” Poe said. “Looks like we may be too late. Unless I’m totally off my game, that’s the killer and they’ve come back to find a better hiding spot for the murder weapon.”

Twenty-Three

Ed should have been working in the west wing, but he wasn’t. We searched the house, finally bumping into him as he came in the back door that led to the overgrown gardens. He seemed surprised to see us and possibly a little bit guilty as he wiped off wet hands on his jeans.

“So, where have you been?” I asked.

A flicker of surprise at my accusing tone passed over his kindly face and I was speared with guilt. Was I jumping to conclusions?

“I was out by the water spigot washing off my paint brushes. I started doing the trim work in the game room. Would you like to see?”

“Not right now.” I glanced back at Millie. I probably should have prepared a line of questioning or something, but I hadn’t and suddenly didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Millie took over.

“Ed, we were just talking to Mike and he mentioned something odd about the conservatory,” Millie said.

Ed straightened, his eyes narrowing. Aha! I hadn’t been jumping to conclusions.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, Josie here says that you haven’t done any work in there yet.”

Ed couldn’t meet my eyes. Or Millie’s. “That’s right.”

“But Mike said he was inspecting some work you’d done for structural integrity.”

Ed bit his lip but remained silent.

I took that as guilt.“Ed, what were you doing in there? Does it have anything to do with the treasure or the murder?”

Ed’s eyes widened. “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

I glanced at Millie. Mom was leaning against the wall, her eyes half closed. She was no help. Ed sounded genuinely surprised at my question.“Well, it’s obvious you are up to something. You lied to me. Why else would you do that?”

Ed sighed, his shoulders slumping.“Okay, fine. I admit I lied. But it was what you’d call one of them little white lies.”

A little white lie? About murder and treasure stealing?

Millie patted Ed’s arm. “Of course it was. Now, why don’t you tell us all about it so Josie can get rid of this silly notion that you had something to do with the murder.” She shot me a see-I -told-you-Ed-wouldn’t-do-anything-wrong look.

“Fine, but it will ruin the surprise. Better that I show you.” Ed gestured toward the hallway and we all started walking.

I had to admit, I wasn’t as convinced of Ed’s innocence as Millie was. He was leading us toward the conservatory and my mind kept telling me to run. If Ed was the killer and knew that we’d figured it out, wouldn’t he want to kill us next? Then again, he was an old man and we were three women. Well, two and a half if you consider my mother wasn’t operating at full speed. I figured we could take him and didn’t I owe him the chance to prove me wrong?

Millie didn’t seem the least bit worried and followed him right into the conservatory. I hung back in the doorway imagining how the conservatory, which had most of its windows boarded up and was in an isolated part of the house, was a great place to murder someone without being seen. Remaining in the doorway seemed like a good plan because then I could run if he tried something. There was no way I was going to let him get me inside the room and shut the door.

But then Ed did something surprising. He headed over to one of the windows and ripped off the plywood.

Mom, Millie and I gasped.

Underneath the plywood, the windows had been replaced and Ed had installed gorgeous hand-carved molding that was a replica of the original, now rotten, wood.

“Oh! It looks delightful!” Millie squealed.

Ed blushed and revealed the next window, and the next.

This is what he’d lied about?

Mom and I wandered into the room for a closer look. The wood was oak, stained and polished to honeyed perfection. The carvings were vines and flowers. The artistry was stunning. I turned to Ed.“Did you carve these?”

His cheeks reddened even further and he nodded.“Got nothing much else to do now that the missus is gone.”

“But why did you lie about it?” I asked.

“It was supposed to be a surprise. I was going to wait until I had all the windows done and show you all at once.”

I pushed words out around the lump of guilt that had formed in my throat:“Thank you. This is really above and beyond anything I was expecting.”

I couldn’t believe that Ed had done all this and I hadn’t been aware. Maybe I had been too focused on my lack of cooking skills. In my defense, the conservatory was in a secluded section of the guesthouse and he had done most of the work in his shop at home. I wouldn’t have heard the hammering. And since the gardens outside were incredibly overgrown, I never went back there so never noticed the windows had been replaced.

I ran my hand over the woodwork.“I’m sorry I suspected you.”

Ed looked down at his feet.“That’s okay. But why did you suspect me?”

I explained about the wall being original and how I’d thought maybe he had taken a map out of the wall we’d found Jed’s skeleton in and it had led to this area.

He shook his head.“Nope. No map. If I was a thief I’d have taken that ring, not some map. But now I wonder if that’s why she was acting so sneaky and secretive.”

“She?” Mom, Millie and I said in unison. Even Mom had perked up for that.

“Flora. I saw her coming out of one of the guest rooms and she was shoving something in her pocket and looking around to see if anyone was watching. She didn’t see me because I’d just come down from the attic stairs in the back. I can’t be a hundred-percent sure, but I could have sworn she was muttering something about it being the strangest map she ever saw.”

Twenty-Four

We found Flora in the front parlor dusting, if you consider sitting on the sofa and running the feather duster over the coffee table while watching the TV dusting.

She must’ve known something was up though because she eyed us suspiciously as we approached.

“What? I’m working on my break.” Flora seemed indignant. “You should be lucky I’m just not sitting watching TV. I get a fifteen-minute break every two hours. Federal law.”

I glanced at Millie. Was that really true? Didn’t matter right now, we had more important fish to fry.

“It’s not about that, Flora,” I said.

Flora’s eyes got a little bigger behind the round glasses. She stopped dusting and fiddled with the feathers. “Well, what is it? I cleaned that room like you asked me to.”

Millie sat down next to her and took her hand. Flora suddenly became very interested in the floor, the window, the table… anything so she didn’t have to look at us. “Well, what is it? Spit it out if you have something to say.” The tone in her voice didn’t match the gruff words. It was clear that Flora was hiding something. I hoped it wasn’t the fact that she’d killed Bob.

“Now, Flora, we’ve known each other for a long time,” Millie said soothingly. “And you know you can tell me the truth.”

“The truth? I always tell the truth.” But the way Flora couldn’t meet Millie’s eyes seemed to indicate that this was not the case. My stomach swooped. Had we been wrong about her?

“Maybe sometimes you tell a little white lie or omit things,” Millie persisted. “Like when you said you weren’t out digging earlier but then admitted later on to Josie that you were in fact out there.”

Flora scowled.“I never said I wasn’t outdigging. I said I wouldn’t have the strength to bash someone over the head with a shovel. You people need to learn how to listen. Why don’t you ask your boyfriend if you want the truth.”

Millie blushed.

Mom snorted.

Flora smirked.

“But that’s not the only thing you were evasive about is it?” I asked.

Flora jerked her hand away from Millie and crossed her arms over her chest.“I’m not a liar. I might have a bad memory though. What, exactly, are you talking about?”

“You lied about cleaning Arlene and Earl’s room. I saw you go in there and Ed saw you acting sneaky when you came out.” I didn’t mention the part about him thinking she was hiding something in her pocket and mumbling about a map. Stealing from a guest’s room was a harsh accusation and Ed hadn’t seemed completely certain. If Flora had taken something, I wanted to give her the chance to admit to it on her own. “And you lied about not having a shovel.”

“And you lied about taking a vacation,” Mom said. “Annabel at the travel agency said that you were looking to go to the Caribbean.”

Flora looked at Mom like she was crazy.“The Caribbean? Where in tarnation did she ever get that idea?” She turned her gaze on me. “I don’t appreciate you calling me a liar, either. And that Ed is a tattletale.”

“Well then explain all this,” I said. “Why are you being so evasive about being near the pond? What were you doing at the travel agency? Why were you sneaking around Earl and Arlene’s room? Andwhere is your shovel?”

Flora straightened on the couch, looking rather indignant. Her eyes drifted from me to Millie and then to my mother. Her mouth worked up and down.“I… I…”

Finally, she sighed and collapsed back into the couch.“Okay, maybe I told a little lie about one of these things.”

“So youwere running from the pond the night Bob was killed?” I said.

“Sort of. Well, I was near there, but I didn’t kill Bob.” Flora looked contrite and picked at the feathers in the duster. “Let me explain.”

“Okay. That’s a relief. I knew you couldn’t kill anyone anyway.” Millie patted her hand.

“When I heard there was treasure, I figured why not try to dig it up too, so I went out there with the rest of them. I was following the family members around thinking they might have a lead on the location. That’s how I ended up on the path from the pond.”

Millie and Mom scooted to the edges of their seats.“So you were there before Bob was killed? Did you see him with someone or hear them arguing?”

“No, I didn’t see him at all. It was kind of dark and… well, I don’t see as good as I used to. For all I know, Bob was already dead when I went past.” Flora blanched. “Oh dear, I hope he wasn’t flopping around and I could’ve helped him. Truth was it was a little scary out there and I was rushing back toward the house.”

“You didn’t see anyone rushing away. No one in front of you?” Mom asked.

“No.” Flora still couldn’t meet our eyes. There was something she wasn’t telling us.

“But you must’ve seen something. Sheriff Chamberlain thinks you’re the killer so anything you know would be really helpful in your defense,” Millie said.

“I didn’t see anything, I swear. If you ask me it’s one of those family members. They were all arguing with Bob.”

“Yeah, we know that. But, Flora, think hard. You must have seen something,” I said.

“Nope.” She gazed out the window.

“Okay, what about your shovel? Where did you put that? Maybe if we can give the shovel to Seth he can do some testing on it to rule you out,” Millie suggested.

Flora gave her a funny look.“Give it to Seth? He already has it. I’m surprised he still suspects me. Seems like he could have figured out my shovel isn’t the one that killed Bob. Then again, that boy always was a little slow on the uptake.”

“You already gave him the shovel? When?” I didn’t see how she could have possibly done that in between the time we saw Seth at the town celebration and now, especially since she’d been here cleaning the whole time and Seth hadn’t stopped by. But at the celebration Seth still suspected her, so he must not have had it yet.

“Give it to him? No. I saw him take it. I put it in the carriage house with the rest of the shovels. That’s where you said you wanted people to put them.”

My brows knit together.“You did? But Sheriff Chamberlain only found six shovels, one for each of the Biddefords, besides Bob. His shovel was at the murder scene.”

Mom jumped out of her chair.“Seth just assumed all those belonged to the Biddefords, but if one of the shovels was Flora’s then that means one of the Biddefords’ shovels is missing. My guess is that is the murder weapon!”

“Which means that Flora is cleared because Seth himself said none of those shovels were the murder weapon,” Millie said.

“And that also means that one of the Biddefords really is the killer,” I said. Or could it still be Annabel? But if it was her, why would one of the Biddefords’ shovels be missing?

“But which one?” Mom asked.

“I hate to say it, but Doris said she’d do anything to get the company back on track and she also lied about them all being together that night,” I said.

“Bob argued with Carla but she seems to have an alibi,” Mom said.

“Paula also argued with Bob,” Millie pointed out. “And Paula has been trying to frame quite a few people. Flora and then Myron with the shoes. Maybe she’s the real killer.”

“I heard someone else argue with Bob,” Flora said.

We swiveled our heads in her direction.“Who?”

“Earl,” she said.

“What did they argue about?” I asked.

“It’s not like I was trying to eavesdrop. You were out shopping and I was cleaning the hallway when Bob burst into Earl’s room. They had a little bit of a tiff. I couldn’t hear too good but it sounded like something about a secret book and rubble. I figured the rubble had to do with digging, that’s why I…”

Flora’s voice trailed off and she got more fidgety with the feather duster and glanced around the room.

“You what?” I prompted.

“Okay, okay! I’ll admit it. I was lying about one thing. I didn’t clean Earl and Arlene’s room that day, but Iwas in there.”

“What were you doing?” Millie asked.

Flora glanced around to make sure no one else was about, then continued,“When I heard the argument about the secret book I assumed it was something about a treasure map. You know, maybe an old family book or something? I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to go in there and while I was cleaning maybe I could find this book.” Flora glanced out the window. “But whenI went in it was pretty obvious where the treasure map was.”

“Wait, there really is a map?” I could practically see my mom thinking about rushing home to get a shovel. News of the map plus Millie’s coffee had sobered her up.

“Well, therewas. Problem is Earl had burned most of it in the fireplace in his room. I could make out nothing but a few lines of longitude and latitude.” Flora’s expression turned sheepish. “I lied because I didn’t want you to think I stole from the room.”

“Really? If Earl knew where the treasure was, then did he dig it up?” Millie said.

“If Bob and Earl argued over it maybe only Bob knew where it was,” Mom said. “Maybe that’s why it was burned.”

“Wait a minute. I want to see this map. Do you still have it?” I asked.

Flora blanched.“It wasn’t really stealing, honest. I mean it was in the fireplace so technically it was trash and I was just taking out the trash.”

“Of course. I’m not mad you took it, but I would like to look at it,” I said.

“It’s right here in my pocket.” Flora produced a wrinkled, charred piece of paper. “It won’t do you any good though. The map wasn’t for anything on this property. I think Jedediah might’ve buried his treasure at sea.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked. Millie and Mom had come to stand behind me so they could look over my shoulder.

“I went down to the travel agency lady to find out where these longitude and latitude would be. But this stupid map isn’t for this property—she said it was for somewhere in the Caribbean Ocean!”

Millie glanced at me.“Annabel wasn’t lying. Flora really was there, she just assumed she was looking to take a vacation because of the longitude and latitude.”

“But why would Jed bury the treasure in the middle of the ocean?” Mom’s eyes narrowed. “What if Annabel really did lie? What if she lied to Flora about the coordinates?”

“What do you mean?” Flora asked.

Mom leaned forward in her seat.“What if Annabel recognized the numbers for what they were—a map to the treasure. And what if she didn’t want anyone else to know the location. She might have given Flora false information about what the longitude and latitude really meant so that she could dig up the treasure herself!”

Millie pressed her lips together.“Hmmm… she did have those fancy shoes and she is expanding her business which means she got an influx of money.”

I stared down at the paper. It was a column of numbers that reminded me of the unbalanced accounting ledger I had for the guesthouse.“Are you sure these are longitude and latitude? Because they don’t look like it to me.”

“They don’t? Well I just assumed they were. I mean, why talk about a secret book and then burn the paper?” Flora asked.

Something else tickled the back of my brain. I was on to something, but had one more question.“Flora, did you clean Millie’s grandmother’s doily in the parlor the morning that Sheriff Chamberlain interviewed all of us?”

“No, I actually didn’t clean that. I know I should have corrected you when you thanked me for cleaning it before, but I figured what the heck, if you thought I did extra work who am I to set you straight? Besides, after Sheriff Chamberlain interrogated me I had to go to my friend’s house to bake cookies for the great-grandmothers of twins’ table at the town celebration.”

If Flora didn’t clean the doily, then why had it been clean when there were clumps of dirt on the table? Of course! It was all coming together. “I think I know who the killer is and if we can just find that missing shovel, we can prove—”

Meroowl!

At the panicked sound of a cat’s cry, we whipped our heads around to see Nero standing in the doorway. His fur was puffed and his tail stood straight up as his large golden eyes beseeched us.

Millie frowned.“I never see Nero alone. Nero, where is Marlowe?”

Nero gave an ungodly cry, spun around and raced out of the room.

Millie, Mom and I were on our feet in a second, following the cat. It was clear by the way Nero was acting that something was dreadfully wrong.

Twenty-Five

Millie was the first through the kitchen door, with my mother and me close behind. Who knew Millie could move so fast? I had to hand it to Mom too, she was managing to keep up despite the afternoon in the beer tent with Paula.

“Marlowe must be in trouble!” Millie yelled as we watched Nero’s tail disappear down the path that led to the old gardening shed. My mind conjured up all the bad things that could happen to a cat out there. Had she fallen through old rotted boards? Cut herself on a rusty tool? Gotten stuck insome old animal trap? Fallen into an abandoned well? The thought of poor Marlowe hurt was crushing.

As we headed deeper into the overgrown area, I glanced behind me. Flora was making a good effort to keep up but had barely made it down the back steps. She waved me on and I turned forward, running to catch up to Mom and Millie.

Branches whipped in our faces as we jumped over gnarled roots sticking up out of the ground and sidestepped fallen branches. We heard a voice ahead.

“Hey get off, you mangy fur ball!”

Meow!

Millie and Mom had sprinted ahead. They skidded to a stop and I just barely missed bowling them over. My eyes immediately scanned for Marlowe. She was caterwauling loudly and her fur was standing on end, but she seemed fine. It was kind of hard to tell for sure though because she was latched onto a pant leg and the owner of said leg was trying vigorously to kick her off.

The cats I had seen at the murder scene were all there, too. Their backs were humped and tails fluffed out like bottle brushes. Some were hissing as they stood between the person and the bloody shovel sticking partway out of the ground.

The murder weapon!

“Marlowe!” Millie was aghast. “Leave him alone. I’m so sorry, the cats don’t usually act this way.”

Apparently Millie hadn’t put two and two together yet. The cats weren’t attacking for no reason. They’d captured the killer—Earl Biddeford.

I felt momentary satisfaction that my suspicions had been correct. I was about to name Earl as the killer when Nero had interrupted with his caterwauling. I hadn’t been a hundred-percent positive then. I was now.

“I don’t know why she’s acting this way…” Millie wrung her hands, probably picturing a lawsuit.

“She’s acting that way because he is the killer.” I stepped between Earl and the shovel, standing next to the cats, my arms crossed over my chest to signify that there was no way Earl was going to get to that shovel.

“He is?” Mom turned to me.

“Yes, he is. Isn’t that right, Earl?”

Earl forgot about Marlowe, who was still digging in to his leg, and turned malicious eyes on me.“You three busybodies should have left well enough alone! You should have let everyone think it was Jedediah’s ghost.”

“Why would we do that? Bob deserved to have his killer caught.” I inched to the left, hoping Mom and Millie got the hint to surround him. It looked like the cats did too because they started to fan out. The black cat with the white paws seemed a bit reluctant but the orange-striped one with themissing tail looked like he was itching to dig his claws into Earl’s other leg.

“He didn’t deserve anything! He was a slacker. Always weaseling out of work. His sculptures were sub-par. He couldn’t even carve a decent swan.” Earl tried to step toward me but was weighed down by the cat on his leg.

“But that’s not why you killed him, is it?” I inched my way further to the left.

“No. His lack of skills wasn’t the reason. Bob was always a tattletale. I’m surprised someone else didn’t do him in before me.” Earl twisted to try to get rid of Marlowe. My blood froze. Tucked in the back of Earl’s pants was a gun. I had to tread very carefully. Hopefully, I could keephim distracted with talking.

“I never did like a tattletale,” Mom said.

“No one does,” Earl said. “I did everyone a favor.”

“But you mostly did yourself a favor, didn’t you? Because Bob had something on you that would pit your entire family against you and probably send you to jail.”

“You mean the secret book with the treasure map?” Mom asked.

“No. There was a secret book, but it wasn’t about treasure. Earl was embezzling from the company.” I looked at Earl. “Weren’t you?”

Millie snapped her fingers.“Of course! I should have known. I thought it was odd that Earl and Arlene always dressed to the nines given that the company was having trouble.”

I pointed toward Earl’s feet. He was wearing fancy Italian loafers. “It really was your shoes that Paula saw running away from the pond, wasn’t it?”

“Stupid Paula. Leave it to her to be passed out right in my getaway path,” Earl said. “I chose that pond area because I knew no one was over there. No witnesses.”

I shifted to the left, still trying to surround him. Millie was over on the right but unfortunately my mother appeared oblivious to the plan. She was shuffling from foot to foot and looking a bit uncomfortable.

“That wasn’t the only flaw in your plan,” I said. “Oh, you almost had us fooled. I mean, who would suspect you had a reason to kill Bob, especially after you burned the real accounting ledger in your fireplace.”

I smiled at the look of surprise on Earl’s face. “Yeah, the maid found the evidence and we have it safe and sound at the guesthouse for the police.”

Earl looked skeptical.“What? There must only be a few small scraps left. Nothing that would prove anything except that I burned some paper with numbers. By the way, you should look into getting a new maid. That one’s work leaves a bit to be desired.”

I ignored his comment about Flora. It’s not like it was anything I didn’t already know. “You made another key mistake, too.”

“What? Picking a guesthouse with you three nosey people at it?”

“Well that too, but when you brought the Nikes down to prove that it wasn’t your shoes that Paula saw, you made a big error. I worked out that you put that dirt on them not from outside, but from the plants in the conservatory. But you messed up.”

“How?”

“You only put dirt on the tops! If you’d really been wearing them, the dirt would have been clumped into the treads and have fallen out on the table, but dirt only came off the sides. The actual spot where the soles had been was clean.” And that explained why the doily had not been dirty. Turned out Flora’s reluctance to clean most things provided a key clue to catching the killer.

“And now we have the murder weapon,” Millie said, pointing at the shovel. “I would say your cheese-sculpting days are over. You might as well just give up. Play nice and you might get a reduced sentence. I’ll just call the sheriff and tell him—”

“Not so fast!” Earl pulled the gun out of his pocket and waved it around. “I’m not going to jail.”

“Now, Earl, be careful with that thing. You don’t want to go to jail for multiple murders.” Millie glanced over at me as if to ask what our plan was now. I didn’t have one other than not getting shot.

“Why not? If I’m going for one anyway, how much time can it add?” Earl laughed. “But I’m not going for even one. Too bad you’re all so nosey. I had the perfect setup here, especially once that skeleton was discovered. I mean, who gets a chance to frame a ghost? And if that didn’t work, I could always let your maid take the rap.”

“Well, that’s not going to work. Not once they get this shovel to the CSI lab and find your fingerprints and Bob’s blood on it,” Millie said.

“Not gonna happen. If only these stupid cats didn’t dig it up. Actually, maybe it’s a good thing they did. I’ll need something to dig the hole to bury your bodies in.”

Mom raised her hand.“Can I go to the little girls’ room?”

“No. You won’t need to worry about that soon.”

My heart stopped as he stepped toward my mother, pointing the gun at her head.

Meroooo!

A blur of black-and-white shot toward Earl’s gun arm. Nero!

“Ouch!” Earl shook his arm, but he didn’t drop the gun.

My mind whirled with indecision. Should I lunge toward the gun? Go for his knees and knock him down? He was still holding the darn gun!

There was a rustle in the bushes behind him. A thick branch appeared, crashing down on Earl’s head. He crumpled to the ground.

Behind him stood Flora. She looked down at Earl’s still body.

“Guess I lied about another thing,” she said.

“What?” Millie asked.

Flora nudged Earl’s arm with her toe. “Looks like this old bird really does have the strength to clonk someone over the head.”

Millie hugged her.“You saved the day.”

“Ahh, it was nothing,” Flora said.

“Thanks, Flora. I gotta make a pit stop.” Mom ducked behind a shrub.

Nero and Marlowe trotted over to me and rubbed against my ankles.“Thanks, guys.” I picked them up one by one and buried my face in their fur. When I put them back down, they trotted over to Millie. It didn’t escape me that they’d come to me first.

“I better call Seth before Earl wakes up. He is alive, isn’t he?” asked Millie.

“Yep.” I’d already done a visual check to make sure he was still breathing.

“That’s a relief. Didn’t want Flora to be accused of murder again.”

Mom reappeared from behind the bush and I noticed that while Nero and Marlowe were sticking close by, the other cats had disappeared. I guess they didn’t want to hang around and take credit for discovering the murder weapon. Just like Millie had always said, there was more to the cats than met the eye—and not just Nero and Marlowe.

Millie dialed. Then she made a face, her eyes squinting and her nose wrinkling. She turned in the direction of the guesthouse and sniffed the air.“Say, do I smell something burning?”

Twenty-Six

“Josie, this is the most delicious apple-pecan bread I’ve ever tasted!” Annabel Drescher stood in front of my table chewing noisily on one of the tiny loaves of bread.

I’d burned another test loaf when we’d been busy capturing Earl. But I’d finally nailed the recipe for the bread, and fifty-four miniature loaves were stacked in a pyramid in the middle of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse display table at Oyster Cove’s 250th town celebration. The tent and streets were crowded and the mood was festive.

From inside the tents, which were nestled on the lush green grass of the town common, shaded by stately oaks and maples, one could see the quaint shops that lined Main Street in one direction, and the sparkling blue ocean in the other.

The Oyster Cove Chamber of Commerce had outdone themselves decorating for the festivities. A large banner with an image of the town two centuries ago hung across the street. Various food vendors and carnival games had been set up on the other side of the town common across from the shops, which all had sparkling clean windows and vibrant awnings. Baskets overflowing with colorful flowers hung from the fancy wrought-iron lamp posts that lined the streets. The air was spiced with the scent of popcorn, the sounds of laughter and the cry of an occasional gull.

“Thank you. Josie is a fine baker.” Millie sat proudly in the chair beside me. It was generous of her to give me credit since she was the reason they were so delicious, but I wasn’t about to argue.

Annabel took another bite and leaned across the table, glancing over at Stella out of the corner of her eye.

“Much better than Stella Dumont’s custard… that tasted sour,” she whispered.

“I knew it would,” Millie muttered under her breath.

“Lucky for Myron he gave me that loan for my travel agency instead of giving one to Stella,” Annabel said.

“Yeah, lucky.” I felt bad for suspecting her. It turned out she really hadn’t lied about Flora. Flora really had gone there with numbers, except they weren’t longitude and latitude, they were accounting numbers which had correlated with a longitude and latitude in the Caribbean Sea. Annabelhad no idea what the numbers really were though and had just made an assumption that Flora wanted a vacation. She hadn’t dug up treasure to renovate her travel agency, she’d gotten a loan.

I simply smiled and nodded, then glanced over at the Smugglers Bay Inn table. People were milling about in front of it, but no one was eating the custard. I wondered if she’d gotten any bookings.

There were plenty of tourists in town and some of them might want to make a reservation to come back. Hopefully the curdling custard would drive more tourists toward my place, though I wasn’t particularly worried. I’d gotten quite a number of reservations in the past few days.

“You haven’t cut the cheese yet?” Mom gestured toward the towering sculpture that dominated the right side of the table. It was a likeness of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse as it was 250 years ago, carved out of cheddar.

Doris had secretly whipped it up after I’d given her permission to bury Jed’s skeleton in the old family cemetery on the property. Unfortunately, the burial never happened. With the logistics of getting into the overgrown part of the estate, heavy equipment to dig up the yard and state regulations, the Biddefords decided it was too costly and had opted for cremation. Doris said she’d rather use the money for a good rehab place for Paula.

Doris had handled Earl’s arrest well. I had to admire her, finding out one of your sons murdered another one couldn’t be easy. It turned out she had had her suspicions that one of her children had killed Bob from the beginning, that’s why she’d lied to Seth when she’d told him they’d all stuck together that night. She was hoping to provide an alibi for her kids.

But she was making the best of it, and at least something good had come from it. It seemed to have brought Doris, Paula and Carla closer together. Doris was taking back the reins of the cheese-sculpture business. She was determined to run it the right way and restore it to its former glory.

I suspected her gift of the sculpture wasn’t totally unselfish—she’d conveniently presented it to me under the tent and suggested I put it on my table with some of her business cards, just in case someone wanted to order a cheese sculpture of their own. I was happy to drum up business for her after everything she’d been through.

“Seems a shame to cut it, don’t you think?” I said. Doris had nicely provided crackers, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut into the sculpture. Besides, it was attracting people, and that was good for business—both mine and the Biddefords’.

“Yeah, but I’m hungry. Maybe I’ll just pinch off one of the shrubberies here,” Mom said, bending down and presumably looking for an inconspicuous spot to pinch some cheese.

A splash followed by a round of laughter caught our attention and we looked over to the Mayor’s head surfacing from the dunk tank. I’d heard dunking the mayor had been a very popular attraction and since the money people paid for a go went to the Chamber of Commerce festivals fund, he was being a good sport about it.

“Looking for Jed’s ghost in there?” Myron nodded at the sculpture. Apparently, he’d wandered over when my attention was on the dunk tank. As much as I would have liked to tell him to get lost, I couldn’t. He had approached me with the terms of a loan that I didn’t have to start paying on for twelve months. That meant I could step up renovations and get the guesthouse fully functional a lot sooner. Unfortunately, it also meant I’d have to be nice to Myron.

“Hardly.” Mom pinched off a corner and plopped it onto a cracker. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

Myron shook his head.“Nope. And I don’t believe there’s treasure either. At least not from what my grandfather told me.”

“We never thought there was any treasure,” Millie said. “I think I would have known if there was something valuable right under my very nose.”

“Naturally. My relatives would have known if Jed had buried any treasure. I just hope this whole business with finding Jed’s skeleton and the rumor of his ghost doesn’t dissuade people from staying at the guesthouse.” Myron winked at me and I tried not to make a face. “I have a vested interest in it now.”

“Don’t worry, Myron. People haven’t been put off by the skeleton. Quite the opposite, in fact. Several of the people who made reservations specifically asked if it was the place where Jedediah Biddeford’s skeleton was found so, apparently, that helps business not hurts it.”

“That’s good.” Myron picked up an apple-pecan loaf. “Say, did they ever send the skeleton to that forensic anthropologist your daughter mentioned?”

“No. The Biddefords are having him cremated.”

“Statute of limitation ran out on that case, anyway.” Seth Chamberlain had come up, along with Mike Sullivan. The two of them paused to let a small gang of children grasping pink and blue clouds of cotton candy on sticks run in front of them.

“So you won’t be running around, trying to investigate that murder, then?” Myron said.

Myron had taken an interest in the guesthouse because of his ancestral ties to it. He said he wanted to embrace his humble beginnings and that was why he’d give me the loan, though Mom and Millie thought it was because he was sweet on me. I guess that’s why he was so interested in the investigation in the first place. I felt a little sad that Jed’s murder would never be solved, but if the police weren’t going to look into it, who would?

“Nope. We’ll be investigating the murder of Bob Biddeford, although that one is pretty cut and dry,” Seth said. “We found the evidence we needed on that shovel and since the three of you heard him confess, it’s a slam dunk.”

“And you won’t need to disrupt the guests in the guesthouse, right?” Millie asked.

Seth looked at her with twinkling eyes.“Nope. Josie is free to run it unencumbered by a police investigation.”

“And since she’ll be having so much construction done with the new loan, I’ll be spending a lot of time over there inspecting it,” Mike said.

I wasn’t sure I liked the non-businesslike look he gave me when he said that. Or the way my mother’s eyebrows waggled up and down. Or the smug look on Millie’s face. Before I could say anything, Ed O’Hara came up and broke a piece of porch railing off the cheese sculpture.

“And I’ll have work for a long time.” Ed looked at me fondly… maybe a little too fondly. “Congratulations on catching the killer by the way.”

“It wasn’t just me. I had a lot of help.” I gestured to my mother and Millie. Even though I reallywas the one who had figured out who killed Bob, I could be modest when I wanted to be.

“Yeah, and you were on the wrong track, Seth,” Millie said.

“Right. See, we can investigate and not get ourselves in trouble.” My mother shot a pointed look at Mike.

“Yeah. See?” I added, also giving Mike a look just to drive the point home.

Mike held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.“Okay, I admit you guys did manage to capture him. But he had a gun, you could have been shot.”

“But we weren’t. Flora was the real hero anyway. She clonked him over the head and saved the day!” Millie turned to Seth. “And to think, you suspected her.”

“Nah… I knew she wasn’t the real killer and that the truth would come out in the end,” Seth said.

Millie scrunched up her face.“You expect us to believe that? You said you were going to bring her in for questioning. Why, I bet you were about to arrest her when we called telling you we’d caught the real killer. Without us you might have arrested the wrong person for the murder.”

“Yeah,” my mother said. “You needed us to put it all together for you. We don’t mind doing it this time, but next time I hope you’ll be able to do some of the work yourself. I mean, you can’t expect us to solve all the murders that happen in this town, can he, Josie?”

“I’m sure Sheriff Chamberlain can do just fine without our help.”

Seth was taking it all in his stride. A movement behind him caught my eye. Nero and Marlowe were skulking around the edges of the tent, heading toward the town docks.

It had been kind of fun figuring out who had killed Bob, but I hoped we wouldn’t have another murder in town anytime soon. We hadn’t totally figured it all out on our own, either. I was starting to realize that we’d had a little non-human help. As if sensing my thoughts, Nero turned and looked right at me.

Yep, I was sure we’d gotten more than a little help from the cats. But I couldn’t very well tell anyone that, now could I?

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“Too bad the humans will never realize the key role we played in helping them find the killer,” Nero said as they trotted past the tents on their way to the bait wharf.

“I don’t know, I think Josie has an idea. I mean, she must have figured out that I was hanging on to Earl’s leg for a reason,” Marlowe said. “But I suppose she can’t very well go around telling people that her cats helped her solve a murder.”

They rounded the side of the harbormaster’s station and proceeded straight to the bait wharf. All the other cats were lounging around by the lobster traps. No fish scraps this time, Nero noted with disappointment. Maybe they could persuade Josie and Millie to give them some morsels from the cheese sculpture later.

“Louie Two Paws tells me the case against Earl is pretty much tied up,” Harry said. His police informant—a double-pawed Siamese—always had interesting and invaluable information from the station.

“Yep. I think we did well,” Nero said as he hopped onto a lobster trap.

“And finally Josie is starting to realize that it pays to listen to us,” Marlowe noted, flopping down in the sun.

“And the confession I overheard?” Juliette asked.

“That was Carla. She wanted to cleanse her soul in regards to her sneaky plan to take over the company,” Nero said.

“But it’s all worked out because now Doris, Carla and Paula will run the company. Since Earl was embezzling most of the money, the company’s financial situation isn’t as dire as they thought,” Marlowe said.

“They can get the company back on track and it’s all thanks to us,” Boots preened.

“Right,” Stubbs said. “By catching Earl, we exposed his embezzling and saved the company.”

“And we cleared Flora,” Nero said. “You know, I knew her shoes smelled like something burnt. At first I suspected it had something to do with all the breads Josie was burning. Turns out she was rooting around in Earl’s fireplace for what she thought was a treasure map.”

“Who knew she was actually listening to the argument we overheard between Bob and Earl that day in the hallway? I thought she was dusting,” Marlowe said.

“Sometimes things are not always as you think,” Nero said wisely. The truth was that he also had thought Flora was just dusting but he wanted to make it seem like he knew more.

“And that also explains why the dirt on the table in the foyer smelled so familiar,” Marlowe said.

Juliette frowned.“What do you mean?”

“Earl claimed he wasn’t wearing the Ferragamo shoes that Paula saw the night of the murder. He produced a pair of mud-caked Nikes to prove it.”

“But it turned out the dirt on the Nikes was from the pot of the ficus tree in the conservatory,” Nero added. “When Earl was accused, he snuck down to the conservatory and dirtied his sneakers. The dirt was still on the table in the foyer where he’d presented them to Sheriff Chamberlain. I just wish we’d sniffed that one out sooner. Could have cracked the case earlier.”

“Well, the important thing is that we did crack the case,” Poe said.

“Yep. And Josie even has a full house of guests next week and more money for renovations.” Nero watched a lobster boat motoring out of the narrow mouth of the cove on its way to the open ocean. “There is something odd about the new guests.”

Juliette sat up, her interest piqued.“Odd? How?”

“They seemed unusually interested in assuring themselves that the Oyster Cove Guesthouse was the guesthouse where Jedediah’s skeleton was found,” Nero said.

“Why would they want to do that?” Stubbs asked.

“One reason,” Harry said. “They’re interested in ghosts.”

“But there is no ghost,” Marlowe pointed out.

Nero shrugged.“I guess they will discover that in due time. For now, Josie has a full roster of bookings and that’s what counts.”

Poe plopped down on the warm ground.“And now we can rest.”

“I will miss having guests with cheese,” Marlowe said. “But hopefully the next guests will be able to keep from killing each other.”

Boots looked down his long whiskers at Marlowe with an expression that indicated she had a lot to learn.“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Josie doesn’t have a very good track record in the murder department. And if recent history is any indication, we may need to keep a close eye on the next batch of guests.”

3. A PURRFECT ALIBI

One

It’s not every day that the guesthouse you own is filled with tarot readers, crystal-ball gazers and psychic mediums, so one needs to take advantage of that when it happens. Which is how I found myself seated at a small antique mahogany table in the parlor across from Madame Zenda, who was laying out a row of colorful tarot cards.

“That’s a lovely card, look at those reds and the blues!” Millie Sullivan, my mother’s best friend and the woman I had bought the Oyster Cove Guesthouse from, leaned over my shoulder and pointed at a card that depicted a dashing knight on a horse waving a sword. Millie had sold me the old mansion, which was badly in need of repairs, because she wanted to retire. To “get out and do things”. Things that, so far, mostly consisted of getting into trouble alongside my mother. But the truth was, since I’d taken ownership, it seemed as if they’d both been here more than when Millie had owned the place.

Madame Zenda tapped the card with a sausage-like finger. She had to be in her late seventies, and was thin as a rail, with a face like a bloodhound and large, meaty hands.“A restless mind or a sudden surprise.”

“See, I told you that you should ask Mike to the Marinara Mariner for dinner on Wednesday.” Millie poked me in the shoulder. “They have a chicken-parm special that is out of this world. That might calm your restless mind.”

“Wait.” My mother, who was standing over my other shoulder, piped up. “Maybe the sudden surprise is that Mike is going to askherout.I think Josie should hold off. You know, play hard to get. Men always want what they can’t have.”

“Don’t I know it.” Millie’s voice carried an air of authority.

I sighed but remained silent.

Mike was Millie’s nephew and also the town building inspector. I’d known him since I was a kid when he’d been my brother’s best friend. I guess you could say we sort of had a history. Nothing too sordid, so don’t get your hopes up. That had been a long time ago, though, and much water had passed under that bridge. Mom and Millie had been trying to push us together ever since I’d moved back to town, but I wasn’t in the market. One of the reasons I’d moved back to my hometown of Oyster Cove was that I’d recently gone through an unpleasant divorce. I had no intention of repeating that mistakeany time soon.

Across from me, Madame Zenda was making a big show of selecting the next card, her gold bracelets jangling as she waved her hairy arms over the deck she held in her hand. She was wearing some sort of flowing caftan with vibrant reds, purples, and oranges that matched the cards she laid out. Her curly gray hair bobbed around her head like unruly springs. She flipped the card.

Millie gasped.

I looked down at the card; a skeleton in armor riding a horse.

Madame Zenda stared at the card, her bushy gray eyebrows mashing together like two elderly caterpillars jostling for the best spot on a leaf. Her hazel eyes clouded over.“Is that a skeleton?” Mom asked.

Millie leaned closer to the table.“That can’t be good.”

“It’s the death card,” Madame Zenda said softly, then hastened to add, “but it doesn’t always mean death.”

“Well if it does, you’re too late,” Millie said. “There’s already been a death here a few weeks ago.”

“And a few weeks before that, too,” my mother added.

“You’ve had several deaths here recently?” The question came from another of my guests, Victor Merino. He had been sitting cross-legged in the mahogany-trimmed upholstered chair in the corner, his eyes closed, hands on his knees, palms up. He was wearing a royal-blue velvet sweatsuit and had a shaggy, oversized mustache. I wished he wouldn’t sit like that on the chair, it was a delicate antique. He claimed he talked to dead people and apparently our talk of dead bodies had roused him from his meditation. I can’t say I was sorry about that, his constantohm-ing was starting to drive me up the wall.

“Oh, nothing to do with the accommodations here at the guesthouse,” Millie added quickly. “You are in no danger. Those folks had it coming to them. Err… I mean, someone had a grudge against them.”

“Yeah, and don’t think it was Josie’s cooking either,” Mom said. “She’s getting a lot better.”

Meow!Nero, a black-and-white tuxedo cat that had come with my purchase of the guesthouse, hopped up onto the windowsill and fixed my mother with a slit-eyed gaze. I nodded at him approvingly. At least someone was sticking up for my cooking. I mean, that little incident when I practically burned down the guesthouse with my overcooked banana loaf was just one teeny mistake. I’d been whipping up some fine breakfasts lately, even if I did say so myself. Sunlight spilled in from the window highlighting Nero’s glossy, jet-black fur. His intelligent golden eyes met mine and then he glanced out the window. Following his gaze, I caught a flash of something pink.What was that?

I leaned over to look outside.“Did you see that?”

“What?” My mother glanced out as Marlowe, the other guesthouse cat, hopped up to join Nero. She settled in next to Nero, her black-and-orange tortie-patterned fur mingling with his jet black. I went to get a better look. The window was cracked open and I could smell the ocean breeze and hear the faraway call of the gulls. The guesthouse sat atop a hill with a sweeping view of Oyster Cove, but not from the front parlor. From here all I could see was the long driveway and part of the overgrown gardens.Wait… was that movement?I could have sworn I saw someone moving around in the thick shrubbery, but who would be lurking outside?

“I don’t see anything,” Mom said.

“Me neither.” Victor had come over to look out. “Let’s get back to these dead people. You say there have been several deaths here over the past few weeks?”

Millie turned to face him.“Yes, but let’s not dwell on that. I mean, it could happen anywhere.”

Mom nodded.“That’s right. When a person is determined to kill someone, the location is hardly a consideration. Just because it happened here shouldn’t be a concern.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned,” Victor said. “I’m intrigued. Their spirits may still be around, and it would be good practice to talk to them. Might help me get a line on old Jedediah Biddeford.”

Getting a“line” on old Jedediah Biddeford was the reason my guesthouse was filled with psychics. A few weeks ago, his skeleton had been found inside the wall during renovations. Turned out someone had put him in there about three hundred years ago. So, I guess there had actually been three murders at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. Well, three that we knew about, anyway. Jed had been a seafaring merchant back in the day and had set off for Europe to bring back treasure. He’d never returned. Or, so they’d thought. Turns out hehad returned and someone had killed him and closed him up inside the wall. No one knew what had happened to the treasure. Was it buried here on the grounds or had the killer taken it? My bet was on the latter, but these psychics had all come to try to communicate with his ghost so they could find the treasure.

I doubted there actually was any treasure, but they were paying guests and I needed the money. I’d spent my life savings on buying the guesthouse and had recently taken out a substantial loan to get the renovations done. I wasn’t about to turn away guests, even if they did think they could chat with someone who had been dead for three hundred years. I just hoped they wouldn’t kill each other in the process. Judging by the level of animosity between them, I would have to keep a close eye out.

“You doneed the help communicating, Victor,” Madame Zenda muttered. See what I mean? These folks had history and were constantly sniping at each other.

“Look who’s talking.” Victor waved at the tarot cards. “Your readings are never anywhere near accurate. Predicting something that happened weeks ago.”

“You should talk.” Gail Weathers stood in the doorway cupping a mug of tea in her hands. Gail was a short, stout woman with long, snow-white hair. She was a tea-leaf reader and had just about depleted my stock of Earl Grey. Millie was partial to her because she’d read her tea leaves and told Millie she would soon find love and fortune. “Last week you were called out for researching your audience in advance of the show you did in Boston.”

“I like to know who is in the audience. I wasn’t cheating; those dead folks really did come through for their loved ones.” Victor crossed his arms over his chest and stepped toward Gail. “At least I can readsomething. Those tea leaves of yours are useless. What a scam. You can’t be very good if I’ve never heard of you, I’ve worked with the best in the business.”

Gail glared at him as she proceeded to the sofa, carefully holding her mug.

“People! Stop arguing.” Esther Hill, a pleasant little old lady with sparkling blue eyes, got to her feet from where she’d been seated at a small, square, oak table near a window. The table had been set up with a black velvet cloth upon which sat a luminous crystal ball. If you ask me, she was the nicest of the bunch. Unlike the others, she was dressed normally in a powder-blue cardigan and navy slacks. “If you want a reading, Josie, come over here. I have much to tell you.”

She motioned me to the chair across the table from her and we both sat. In between us the crystal ball winked ominously. I wondered if it, too, would reveal death.Mew.

Nero hopped up on the table and gazed into the ball as if he was wondering the same thing. Esther smiled down at Nero and petted the top of his head. Nero purred and looked at her adoringly. I scowled. The cats never looked at me that way. I was still getting used to being owned by cats. Yes, you heard me correctly. Since I’d come to the guesthouse, I’d learned that one didn’t own cats, it was the other way around. Though my relationship with Nero and Marlowe had improved vastly since that first day, I still had a lot to learn. Esther waved her hands over the crystal ball. Unlike Madame Zenda, she didn’t havea lot of jangly bracelets or loose-flowing sleeves, but her technique was just as impressive. She bent her neck to peer closer into the ball. I did the same. Nero did too. Esther was making a lot of faces. I wasn’t sure what she was seeing; all I saw was my own reflection, except upside down.

“Aha!” She lifted her head, a mischievous smile on her face. “I see something in your future.”

“What is it?” Hopefully not a dead body.

Her smile widened.“Someone tall, dark and handsome.”

“We know who that is!” my mother said.

“That’s right. Mike. I told you you should ask him out,” Millie added.

“See? My reading wasn’t off,” Madame Zenda said from the corner where she’d been pouting.

“I saw that in the tea leaves!” Gail piped in from the sofa.

“Lots of men are tall, dark and handsome,” I said. Though Mike really was tall, dark and handsome. Still, it was the clich? crystal-ball reading and I wasn’t putting much weight into it.

Thunk!

We all jerked our attention in the direction of the mantle where a small candlestick had fallen on the floor.

“Where did that come from?” Gail asked.

“That looks like Great-grandma Sullivan’s brass beehive candlestick.” Millie bustled over and picked up the stick, then placed it back on the mantle. “It must’ve been right on the edge. Maybe Flora moved it too close when she was dusting.”

I was skeptical about that because I wasn’t sure Flora actually dusted the mantle. Flora had been the maid at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse since Millie was a child. No one really knew how old Flora was, but one thing I did know was that she was the world’s worst maid. Almost every chore I asked her to do was met with an excuse as to whyshe couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do it. But Millie had been pretty insistent that I keep Flora on. She’d explained that the elderly maid didn’t have much in social-security income. She depended on the wages here and she’d been very loyal to Millie’s family. No one else had applied for the job, so I’d kept her. Anyway, I shouldn’t complain—she had come through for us during the apprehension of the latest killer, so I guess I should give her a pass on the dusting and, I had to admit, I was getting sort of attached to her.

“I didn’t put anything close to the edge.” As if summoned by her name, Flora appeared in the doorway. She was a tiny thing, about four feet tall, with wisps of cotton-white hair sticking up and gigantic round glasses that gave her eyes an owlish appearance. Apparently, her hearing wasn’t asbad as her eyesight. Her eyes fell on the crystal ball and grew even bigger, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you giving readings?” Flora sidled over to the table.

Esther smiled and gestured to the chair I was currently occupying.“Won’t you sit down?”

Apparently, my reading was over, so I stood up. Say what you will about me, but I can take a hint. Esther produced a card seemingly out of nowhere and pressed it into my palm.“In case you want to recommend me to a friend.”

Flora dropped the feather duster she had in her hand on the table and sat in the chair. Esther went into her hand-waving and crystal-ball-peering act.

“Aha!” She looked up sharply at Flora.

Flora frowned.“What?”

“I see someone special in your future.”

Flora straightened and smiled.“Someone tall, dark and handsome?”

Esther shook her head.“No. Small, pink and wrinkly.”

Flora made a disgusted face and waved her hand.“Oh, that’s Harold Ditmeyer. I already dated him last month.”

Esther looked at her funny.“I wasn’t talking about a man. I was talking about a baby. You’re going to have another great-grandchild.”

Flora looked disappointed.“Oh darn. I already have dozens of those. I was hoping to get a good reading like Josie got.”

Esther nodded.“Sorry. I can only convey what the ball shows me.”

“Sure.” Victor had been leaning against the mantle. Probably so he could look down his nose at all of us, which he was doing now to Esther. “Like that crystal ball shows you anything.”

Esther glared at him, her normally kind eyes turning hard. I thought she was going to really lay into him, but she simply took a deep breath and said in an even voice,“Victor, you’re not the only one who has gifts.”

“Yeah,” Madame Zenda said. “You have no respect for anyone.”

“That’s right.” Gail stood, still cradling the mug. “Why, I have a good mind to—”

“Oh look, someone’s here!” Millie pointed out the window. Even though I knew she was doing it as a distraction to keep the guests from descending into another argument, I rushed to the window remembering the flash of pink I thought I’d seen earlier.

It wasn’t a person she had seen though. It was a car. My spirits sank when I saw whose car it was. Myron Remington.

“Is that the tall, dark and handsome man I saw in the crystal ball?” Esther asked.

“I should say not,” I replied. Myron was neither tall, dark, nor handsome. He was short, stout and annoying. Ever since he’d offered to give me a low-interest loan for some badly needed repairs he’d been acting as if the guesthouse was his pet project and stopping by periodically to check on his little investment. I guess he had a fondness for the place. Myron’s family went back as far as the Biddefords and his ancestors had even worked for Jed. That’s why he wanted to make sure I had the funds to restore the guesthouse to its previous glory. He claimed he was proud of his family’s modest roots in the community and wanted to show that he took pride in that by loaning the money to restore one of the oldest properties in town.

Mom and Millie insisted it was because Myron had a crush on me. Either way, I had to play nice with him because I’d already invested the very last penny I had in pre-ordering all the lumber and supplies so I could get a bulk discount. I needed to stay on Myron’s good side—that loan was critical to my success.

I glanced up at Mom and Millie who had smirks on their faces. I narrowed my eyes at them to discourage any chatter about a romance between Myron and myself and headed to the front door. As I left the room, I looked back toward Madame Zenda. She was seated at the table, looking over the cards she’d laid out earlier. A breeze gusted in from the window, sending the cards scattering and my thoughts drifting to the death card. I didn’t particularly care for Victor, but I had to admit that I hoped he was right in thinking Madame Zenda’s reading was off. Because if the death card didn’t represent the deaths that had already happened, then what did it represent?

Two

The front door to the guesthouse was unlocked during the day. It was mostly so guests could come and go, but I figured if a wayward tourist wandered in and booked a room, all the better. Myron had let himself in and was already standing in the foyer when I got there. He was wearing a designer suit and silk tie as usual. His face brightened when he saw me and I squelched the urge to make a face. I wouldn’t go as far as to go out on a date with him or anything, but remaining friendly seemed the best course for the continued flow of finances.

“How nice to see you, Myron. What brings you here today?” I asked.

Myron adjusted the cuffs of his jacket.“I was just coming to check on my little project. Need to keep the investments of the bank in mind, you know.”

“Of course.” I started down the hallway toward the west wing where the current renovations were taking place. Myron followed. I could hear his shoes squeak to a stop at the doorway to the parlor and I turned to see him peering in, a frown on his face.

I backtracked to see what had him frowning. I suppose the scene was a little odd. Mom and Millie were clustered around Esther who was waving over the crystal ball again. Victor had gone back to meditating, this time in the middle of the room. Madame Zenda was practicing some kind of fancy shuffling maneuver, her bracelets clanging and sleeves flowing. Gail had laid down on the sofa and appeared to be napping. Nero and Marlowe trotted over and started sniffing Myron’s shoes.

“What is going on here? What kind of guests are you entertaining?” Myron asked.

“They’re psychics,” Flora said. She was standing next to the grand staircase dusting the shade of a Tiffany stained-glass lamp that sat on a small table.

“Psychics?” Myron pursed his lips as if to indicate he took a dim view of psychics. “Is there some kind of convention?”

“Nope. They’re trying to talk to Jedediah Biddeford. Gonna dig up the treasure.” Flora kept her focus on the shade even though she was talking to Myron.

“You don’t say.” Myron glanced at me. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

I didn’t, but I didn’t want to say that in front of the guests who were now all looking at us. “You never know.”

“I thought it was determined that there wasno treasure,” Myron said.

“Correction.” Victor had been roused from his meditation and was now standing in the doorway. “No treasure was everfound. I aim to find it as well as uncover who really killed Jedediah Biddeford.”

Myron looked skeptical.“The police couldn’t even figure that one out, but good luck to you.”

“You’ll see.”

Victor sounded as if he was getting ready for an argument, so I gave Myron’s arm a little tug. I hope he didn’t get the wrong idea.

“I think you’ll be happy with the progress on the renovations.” I gestured for Myron to precede me down the hall. Thankfully he took the hint and started walking. “I hope so.” He whipped out a small notepad and a lovely bone-colored pen with carvings all around it. Was he going to write me up if my renovations weren’t up to snuff?

I led Myron down the hallway to the west wing. That’s where I was doing most of the renovations. It had once been a sumptuous ballroom, but since the days of balls were long over I was turning it into a game room.

Ed O’Hara, the elderly carpenter I’d hired to do the renovations, was skim-coating the joints on the sheet rock covering the wall inside of which we’d discovered Jedediah Biddeford’s skeleton.

“Great, I see there’s no evidence of what happened here before.” Myron crouched down, his face inches from the wall and then put the paper and pen down on the floor so he could run his fingers along the joint. “That’s good, no sense in scaring future guests off by making it obvious that there was a skeleton in the wall.”

Even before he’d lent me the money, Myron had been a bit disturbed that we’d uncovered the skeleton. But now that I’d taken out the loan, he seemed to be getting kind of bossy about the whole thing. I get that he had an interest in the cash flow of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse and my ability to make payments, but I didn’t want him telling me what to do with my business. Then again, maybe his constant trips over to check up on progress really were about his having a crush on me. I shuddered to think of it. Myron definitely was not my type. Ed met my gaze over Myron’s head and rolled his eyes. I liked Ed, and even though he’d been spending a lot of time in my kitchen eating when he should be working, he was still worth the money I paid. I also felt a little guilty that he’d been one of my suspects during the most recent murder and I was trying to make up for that by giving him extra baked goods. Those that were edible, I mean. I could tell that Ed saw right through Myron but knew enough to be patient and play along with his twenty questions.

“I got it all patched up now like nothing ever happened,” Ed said. “In fact, I have an appointment with the building inspector in five minutes to inspect it and make sure we can move on to the next stage.”

Oh, no… Mike was coming too? The day was really going downhill and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Well, hello, Sunshine.” Mike Sullivan appeared in the doorway, smiling at me. Speak of the devil. I returned the smile. It wouldn’t do to be inhospitable to the building inspector, and besides, Mike was kind of easy to smile at with his tall, broad frame and whiskey-hazel eyes.

Though I had to admit, it did irritate me when he called me Sunshine. That was a nickname he and my brother had given to me when I was younger and it wasn’t as complimentary as it sounds. However, since I’d moved back to town, I’d learned to just ignore him when he used the nickname because whenever I got riled up about it, it caused him to use it even more.

“I’m here to inspect the wall. Myron, what brings you here?” His eyes flicked between me and Myron as if he thought I’d invited him. Mike was probably wondering why Myron was crouched on the floor.

“Just checking up on my investment.” Myron stood and made a show of brushing off his slacks. “Now, Josie, I don’t know about these psychics and all this talk about speaking to Jedediah’s ghost. Maybe it’s not a good idea to encourage that sort of thing. Rumors could get out about the guesthouse being haunted and that might affect bookings.”

“You mean it might affect her ability to repay your loan,” Ed said bluntly.

“I’m only thinking of Josie’s best interests,” Myron said.

“I didn’t have anyone else booking the rooms and I figured there was no harm in it. Maybe they actually will dig up the treasure and solve the mystery.” Did these guys think I needed them to look out for me? I could take care of myself and decide who to book as a guest in my own guesthouse.

“Treasure? Mystery?” Mike asked. “Is that why Anita Pendragon is lurking around outside?”

My eyes jerked to the window. Is that who I’d seen fluttering around out there? Anita was a reporter who worked for theOyster Cove Gazette. She was always looking for the“big scoop” that would make her famous. I’m sure it was no secret that I had a guesthouse full of mediums who wanted to talk to Jed’s ghost. Maybe she’d smelled her big break and was spying on us to see what was going on.

“She was outside?” I asked.

“Yeah, I caught her taking pictures through the window.” Ed nodded toward the big window on the east side. “I shut the shade. Wouldn’t be surprised if she snuck in here though. I heard someone up on the third floor where those old servants’ rooms are near the attic, but when I went up to look no one was there.”

Thunk!

A hammer landed on the floor beside Ed’s toolbox. Ed picked it up. “Huh, that’s weird. Guess I didn’t set that squarely down on the box. Good thing we don’t have those oak floors in yet, might have made a mark. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Myron was peering out the window, hands cupped over his eyes, looking for Anita presumably.“If Pendragon gets word about this kooky plan to find the Biddeford treasure, she’ll blab it all over. You have to do something about this, Josie.”

“What do you want me to do? Kick them out? Have Anita arrested for trespassing?” I know I said I was trying to play nice with Myron, but I just didn’t like the idea of anyone telling me what to do. “They’ll only be here for a few more days. I’m sure it’s all harmless. You don’t really believe Jed’s ghost is hanging around here waiting to talk to them after all this time, do you?”

Myron moved back from the window. I guess Anita wasn’t out there after all. “I suppose not.”

“Of course not. Hopefully they’ll just try to communicate with him for a few days and then get bored and leave when he doesn’t show up. No harm done,” I said, ushering Myron toward the door. He could be a bit of a fussbudget and I didn’t need him messing around with any of my bookings. I wasn’t about to kick out paying customers, especially now that I really needed the money.

Mike and Ed started the inspection of the repairs Ed had done to date and I walked Myron back down the long hallway. The front door stood open, giving a nice view of the birch trees on the side of the driveway. We were almost at the front door when a loud clapping sounded from the parlor.

Myron pulled up short and looked in. Madame Zenda was standing next to the window, which had been pushed open even further. Was it stuffy in the guesthouse? I didn’t think so— even though it was late summer—we did have air conditioning. And right now, most of it was going out the window. I made a mental note to tell the guests to keep the windows shut.

Madame Zenda clapped her hands again, pulling my attention from the window.

“People! People!” she yelled, leaning toward the window. “I have exciting news! Jedediah Biddeford has contacted me from beyond and he says he’ll be giving me the answers to everything we seek tonight when the moon kisses the ocean.”

The others murmured and looked at her skeptically. I could feel the disapproval radiating from Myron.

Madame Zenda continued,“After tonight, not only will I know where the treasure is, but also what happened to him three hundred years ago!”

Three

“When the moon kisses the ocean? What’s that supposed to mean?” Marlowe asked half an hour later when she and Nero were catnapping in the conservatory. The conservatory had yet to be fully renovated, other than some replacement windows that Ed had put in as a surprise for Josie. That’s why the cats liked it so much. No one ever went in there and there was always a pool of sun to lie in. The hand-carved trim that Ed had added around the windows as a surprise for Josie didn’t hurt the ambiance any either. They could see Oyster Cove from an east-facing window and Nero enjoyed watching the lobster boats hauling in their catch, the waves crashing against the jagged rocks and the seagulls circling above. He didn’t particularly like seagulls though, because they often dive-bombed the cats, but they were fine to watch from afar. He was glad to see the population was making a resurgence after an incident a few months ago that had caused a number of gull deaths.

Marlowe trotted over to one of the large potted plants Millie had brought over a few weeks ago and raked her claws through the dirt, then looked back at Nero for an answer to her question.

Nero sighed.“I’ve noticed these guests tend to be overly dramatic. I assume it was just a fancy way of saying when the moon comes up over the ocean.”

They both glanced toward the window. The moon rose up in the east just around dusk. At this time of year, it was a glowing disk that loomed over the ocean highlighting the crests of the waves. It would be a full moon tonight. Nero wondered if Madame Zenda had chosen today to make her announcement because of that.

“They are a strange bunch,” Marlowe continued. “I liked the last batch better. At least they had some cheese morsels in their rooms we could steal.”

“These guests are sneaky, too. Though I do like Esther. She has no problem slipping us some treats under the table.”

Marlowe, who had been examining the dirt inside the pot, glanced over at Nero.“Well, I wouldn’t consider that any bonus. Some of Josie’s breakfasts leave a bit to be desired.”

“Yeah, but she can’t screw up bacon.”

“True. So, what do you make of Madame Zenda’s proclamation? I noticed she made sure to be near the window.” Marlowe finished her inspection of the plant and trotted over to the pool of sun.

“You mean the window she’d opened wider and let all the lovely cool air out of?” Nero plopped down beside her and started preening the white fur of his tuxedo. “I bet she was making sure that Anita Pendragon overheard her.”

“That reporter that’s been lurking around? Yeah, I could see her over in those gigantic overgrown rhododendrons and she looked pretty excited. I guess she doesn’t realize that Madame Zenda was lying.”

Both cats had a keen sense of the spirit world and they had sniffed the house thoroughly for signs of Jed’s ghost when the skeleton had been discovered. There were no static disturbances, no other-worldly smells, no hint of ectoplasmic moisture. If Jed’s ghost was still on the earthly plane, he wasn’t hanging around in the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. Then again, Nero had noticed that items seemed tobe falling to the floor at odd times recently and his hair had even stood on end inexplicably. But if a ghost were in the house, surely it would have made its presence known to them?

“Too bad she’s going to end up being disappointed. As you know, there are no ghosts here for the humans to talk to. Had Jedediah’s ghost been haunting this house we certainly would’ve heard from him by now.”

“Boo!”

Nero nearly jumped out of his fur. He whirled around, back humped, fur standing on end.

A ghostly apparition floated next to the wall.

“Talk about being careful what you wish for.” Marlowe seemed to take the specter all in her stride, calmly licking her front paw and rubbing it behind her ear.

“Jed?” Nero asked. In fact, he didn’t really have to ask because he recognized the clothing from the skeleton they’d pulled out of the wall.

“One and the same,” the ghost replied.

“So you really are here,” Marlowe said. “I guess Madame Zenda wasn’t lying.”

“No. She was,” Jed said. “I haven’t talked to any of these kooks you have running around in here. She’s making it up.”

“Why would she do that?” Marlowe asked.

“Beats me.” Jed swirled over to the window. “Nice view. I guess this room was added on after my time.”

“There’s been a lot of changes since then.” Nero knew that the mansion had been much smaller in Jed’s time. Over the years it had been expanded by his own descendants, as well as Millie’s ancestors who had bought the house over a hundred years ago.

Jed nodded.“But it’s not in very good shape.” He looked kind of sad about that.

“So, where have you been?” Marlowe asked. “I mean, you’ve been dead for three hundred years, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Then why pop up now? You weren’t here a few weeks ago.”

“I’ve been inside a wall, in case you didn’t know. My spirit was just kind of hanging there in limbo. Only once my skeleton was freed was I able to roam about. It’s taken me a while to get my bearings, though. I’ve been trying to communicate with you two but haven’t been successful until now.”

Nero nodded and watched as Jed floated about the room taking in the flooring, moldings, windows. Could Jed have communicated with Madame Zenda and not remembered? Perhaps she’d seen him floating around and was overly optimistic about their communication tonight. Or was she actually making that up, not knowing Jed’s ghost really was around?

“So, you haven’t communicated with anyone but us?”

“Nope. You’re actually the first creatures that can see me. Guess my manifesting skills need work. I’ve been having fun messing with people though.”

“Messing with them?” Marlowe asked.

“Yeah, I figured out how to push things off tables and such. I can’t actually pick anything up, but the pushing off has been fun. Makes everyone jump.”

Nero raised a brow at him.“Did you push the salt shaker off the counter the other day?”

Nero had thought he’d sensed something a couple of days ago when they’d been helping Josie prepare breakfast. He’d been up on the counter looking out the window, where he wasn’t supposed to be, when his hair stood on end and suddenly the salt shaker slipped off the counter and smashed on the floor. Josie hadn’t been happy about that and had scolded him.

“Yep,” Jed said proudly.

“Thanks a lot. I got blamed for that.” Nero was more upset that he hadn’t known a ghost was present than getting in trouble with Josie. Then again, ghosts could be cagey and if their manifestation skills were lacking, it would be hard to sense them.

“Sorry about that.” Jed really did look repentant. “Anyway, I’ve been spending most of my time in the attic. There’s an area way in the back with a trunk that has some of my stuff in it. Feels kind of comforting and familiar, though I’m a little offended that it was shoved way in the back.”

“A lot of people have lived here since your day,” Marlowe said.

“I guess you’re right.” Jed looked around the room again. “Lots of changes. I’d like to see the old place get fixed up again. But on the other hand, I feel like I should move on to the nether regions. Wherever that is.”

Nero nodded sagely.“The spiritual plane. It’s where you will be most fulfilled.”

“Whatever you say. Any idea how I get there?”

“Something must be holding you here,” Nero said. “Say, do you know how you ended up inside the wall?”

“Nope. No idea. I just remember bringing my treasure back from Europe and next thing I knew it was darkness for three centuries.”

“Wait! There really is treasure?” Marlowe’s eyes glowed with excitement.

Jed nodded.“At least therewas. Though it could be gone by now. As you said, a lot of time has gone by.”

“And you were murdered,” Nero said. That much had been obvious when they’d found the skeleton. If it hadn’t been the crack in the skull that gave it away, it was the fact that a person couldn’t very well wall themselves up from the inside. “The treasure could have been the reason, in which case you’re right that it’s long gone. But that could be your unresolved issue.”

“You mean I can’t move on until I figure out who killed me?”

Nero wasn’t exactly sure about that. It seemed like that’s what most ghosts who were stuck on this plane wanted, but he supposed each case was different. “It can’t hurt.”

“Too bad Madame Zenda really couldn’t solve the murder, but even if she could talk to me, I wouldn’t be able to tell her who killed me,” Jed said.

“That’s too bad. We’ll have to figure out another way to find out who killed you.” Nero loved a good investigation, even if the killer was long dead, but he had another motive for helping Jed. He didn’t want the old ghost hanging around any longer than necessary. Lingering ghosts could bea nuisance and he liked things the way they were. He knew that as time went on and Jed got bored, his antics might not be as innocent as pushing things off tables. Best to help him move on to where he belonged.

“Yeah, but there’s one good thing about Madame Zenda being a kook. It means that death card she pulled up is meaningless. That had me worried,” Marlowe said. “But now that we know she’s a fake, we won’t have to worry about another death at the guesthouse.”

Four

“You ask me, they’re all a bunch of fakes,” Millie whispered as she leaned against the door frame and peeked out into the hallway.

Mom nodded from her place at the table where she was eating a sliced-up apple.“Old and washed up.”

“I did a little bit of research on them and I heard that Victor Merino was accused of fraud back in Ohio.” Millie came back into the kitchen and rummaged in the new stainless-steel fridge. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse kitchen was a mixture of old and new. Old wooden cabinets painted a cheery yellow, golden pine floors so old that they were worn down in front of the sink and new appliances for cooking the delicious home-style breakfasts that the guesthouse had a reputation for.

Funny thing about the breakfasts; it turned out I wasn’t much good at cooking them. That’s why Millie kept coming over to help me out. I was learning, but I didn’t mind Millie pitching in, it lightened my workload and kept Mom and Millie out of trouble. Right now, she was rummaging up some ground meat for a homemade turkey sausage recipe she’dpulled from her trusty stack of weathered and food-stained recipe cards.

“What kind of fraud?” Mom asked.

“A woman accused him of billing her thousands of dollars to communicate with her dead husband. Victor argued that he really was talking to the deceased and he had told her things no one else knew about. Her son claimed it was all information he got by reading old newspapers and asking around.” Millie had opened a cabinet and was squinting up to the top shelf. Millie was only about five feet tall and I could see she had her eye on the old jadeite mixing bowl.

“Do you think any of them really can communicate with the dead?” I asked as I reached above Millie’s head for the bowl and handed it to her.

Millie laughed.“I doubt it.”

“Then why are they here?” Mom put her plate in the sink and ran some water over it.

Millie shrugged.“Who knows. Maybe they think Josie will pay them to talk to Jed. Or maybe they really are searching for treasure. Remember a few weeks ago when the whole town came out.”

How could I forget? The discovery of Jed’s skeleton last month had started a treasure hunt that involved most of the town. Never mind that legend had it that Jed had cursed anyone who stole his treasure, I guess people were more interested in money than they were afraid of whatever the curse might bring. “I hope they don’t start digging, I just got the grass to green up over all the holes again.”

“Why would Madame Zenda make a big announcement that Jed was going to talk to her?” Mom asked. “She seemed pretty sure of herself. Sounds to me like she really is going to talk to him. Maybe she isn’t a fake.”

I hoped she was. Images of the death card bubbled up again and I shuddered.“Maybe she figured if she announced it then the others would think she really was going to talk to him and give up?”

“It could be that. She’s trying to stake a claim. Now the others have to come up with something better or more interesting. I think each one of them might be trying to get a sensational story to boost their careers.” Millie cracked an egg and separated the white into a bowl. “I hear most ofthem have careers that are on a downswing.”

My gaze flicked to the window.“Maybe that’s why Anita Pendragon has been seen skulking around here.”

“She has?” Millie stood on her tiptoes to look out the kitchen window. “Huh, I wonder if one of them called her so she could write a story on their supposed communication with Jed.”

“Getting in the papers would definitely boost someone’s career,” Mom added. “And I did notice that when Madame Zenda made her pronouncement she made sure that her voice carried out the window. I thought maybe Jed’s ghost was out there but now I wonder if she knew Anita was out there and wanted her to hear it.”

“She was very loud about it.” Millie whisked the egg white rapidly.

“Yeah, unfortunately Myron heard it too and he didn’t look very pleased,” Mom said.

I pulled out a chair and sat at the 1940s’ Formica table, worry gnawing at my gut. “I know. He’s worried that publicity about people talking to a ghost here could hurt the bookings at the guesthouse. What do you think?”

Mom made a face and looked at Millie, then bent down to pet Nero and Marlowe, who had trotted into the room and were sitting next to her looking at us as if listening to our conversation.

“Myron is a worrywart. I wouldn’t worry about anything he says.” Millie pulled a knife out of the rack and started chopping the onion and apple she’d laid out on the cutting board.

“Except if he really thinks that, maybe he won’t give me the next installment on the loan. Or worse, demand I pay what I’ve borrowed in full. I already invested everything I have and without the loan the guesthouse will go under,” I said. “Not to mention that I need the guesthouse to be fully booked to keep cash flowing.”

Millie put the chopped apple and onion into a bowl, tossed in some sage and nutmeg and then plopped the ground turkey in and mixed it all together, then formed them into small patties and put them in the fry pan. Soon the sounds of sizzling meat and the spicy smell of sausage permeated the air. Millie flipped the sausages and then turned to face me.

“Myron is a man and he’s easy enough to handle. I can tell he’s sweet on you so all you have to do is dazzle him on a date and he’ll give you the keys to the vault.”

At my obvious look of distaste she continued,“You don’t have to marry the guy, for crying out loud. But sometimes us businesswomen need to use every advantage. Lord knows I’ve had to many times.” She patted the sides of her hair and smoothed her apron over her hips. I didn’t dare ask for details.

Mom must have been still thinking about the treasure.“What I don’t understand is how each one thinks they are going to get the treasure without the others seeing them.”

Millie pursed her lips.“You know, that’s a good question. I’ve noticed they’re all following each other around.”

I’d noticed that too. “It’s like they don’t trust each other.”

“But if they are all fakes, then each would know the others can’t talk to Jed,” Mom said.

“Maybe they aren’t sure about who is a fake and who isn’t.” Millie bent down to pet Marlowe who was doing figure eights around her ankles. “I know some of them have crossed paths before from what I read about them. Except Gail, she seems to have kept a low profile.”

The cats had once been Millie’s, but since she couldn’t have pets at the senior housing complex where she lived, she’d made keeping the cats a stipulation for the sale of the guesthouse. At first, I hadn’t been too sure, I’d never had a cat before, but I had to admit they were growing on me. As if sensing my thoughts, Marlowe turned her green gaze on me, eliciting all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings. Okay, I admit it, I was getting really attached to them, not to mention that they might have saved my bacon a few times in the previous murder investigations.

“Or maybe their whole goal is not to dig up the treasure or talk to Jed, but to get publicity?” Mom said.

Thud!

We jerked our heads in the direction of the sound to see a cookbook lying on the floor. The recipes, which had been torn from magazines and stuffed inside, spilled out. Millie walked over and bent down.“Here’s that apple strudel recipe I was looking for!”

Mom glanced over at it.“Huh, guess Nero must’ve pushed that off.”

Merow!Nero caterwauled from the other side of the room, then pranced over to the book, sniffed, looked up at the ceiling and started doing figure eights in front of the book.

Millie frowned down at him.“See, he ran over to the other side of the room and now he’s pretending he didn’t push the book off.”

Meow! Nero’s intelligent gaze flicked from Millie to me to a spot near the window.

Meow.Marlowe joined him in the pacing and gazing.

“Josie, I think they might be hungry.” Millie gestured toward their empty bowls as she placed the recipes back in the book and put it in the bookcase.

Meeeeoww. Nero sounded exasperated, indicating that I’d better get those bowls filled right away before he started to make a racket.

Millie straightened.“Something’s fishy about this Madame Zenda character. I think we need to set our sleuthing skills to determine what she’s up to. I don’t like anyone taking advantage of the legends here at the guesthouse for their own gain.”

Millie’s words set off my internal alarm bells. She and Mom were known to go a bit to the extreme and get into trouble. I didn’t need them doing anything that would bother the guests and might result in a bad review on Yelp.

“Just how will you do that?”

Millie shrugged.“I suppose we’ll do some stealth detecting and find out what her angle is. Maybe follow her and see if she really does communicate with Jed.”

“Good idea.” Mom pushed up from the table. “Let’s go get our black outfits and we’ll come back later tonight. Should we get our hair done?”

Millie patted the sides of her hair.“Might be a good idea. If we expose her as a fraud we might be on TV.”

They started toward the door, and Millie threw a backward glance at the stove.“Josie don’t forget to watch the sausage. Cook until they are no longer pink and then drain them on a paper towel.”

“Will do.” They left and I turned my attention to the cats. “I don’t think this is going to end well.”

Meewoo. I was pretty sure that was Nero’s way of voicing his agreement.

Meooup. Marlowe chimed in.

I was glad they agreed with me, but the way they were still skulking around the bookcase instead of rushing to their food bowls made me uneasy. Typically food was their main priority. Then again, sometimes they delighted in doing the opposite of what I thought they would do, maybe this was one of those times.

Five

“See? I got in trouble for that cookbook.” Nero glanced up at Jed. At least the ghost looked contrite. Some of them could be downright unrepentant about their mischievous antics, but Jed seemed to be a kind spirit. Even so, Nero still hoped he didn’t hang around the guesthouse for any length of time.

“Sorry ’bout that, I was trying to get the attention of the pretty redhead.”

“Josie?” Marlowe’s eyes slanted as she looked up at the human.

Nero supposed Josie was kind of pretty. The coppery-red color of her hair was unusual and he liked that she didn’t wear a lot of smelly makeup. Her greenish eyes, though not nearly as bright or luminescent as a cat’s, were a good match for her fair coloring. He liked that she wasn’t boney. Not that she was fat, but she had a bit of meat on her and Nero preferred his humans to have some padding because it made them more comfortable to lie on. But, best of all, she had a kind heart. Even if she was a little slow to catch on.

“I don’t think you’ll get her attention,” Marlowe said. “She’s not very advanced when it comes to communication with those other than her own kind.”

“Well, to be fair, most humans can’t see ghosts like we can,” Nero said in defense of Josie. He’d been unsure about her when she’d first come to the guesthouse, but Millie had advised him to give her a chance and now he was starting to grow fond of her.

“True.” Marlowe licked her paw and washed behind her ear. “What about our current guests? They all claim to be able to speak with spirits.”

“So far none of them actually have,” Jed said absently as his gaze flicked about the room. “Look at these new-fangled contraptions.”

Nero glanced at Marlowe. New-fangled? While the stainless-steel appliances were a fairly recent upgrade, it was clear that Jed hadn’t been keeping up with the times.

Josie opened the fridge and put the ingredients Millie had left on the counter away. The ghost’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “Is that an icebox?”

“Yep.” Nero swished his tail.

“Where’s the ice?”

“Don’t need any. Modern technology keeps it cold,” Nero said.

“Go figure.” Jed tore his eyes from the fridge. “I’m glad to see that people are taking care of the place, but it looks like Josie might be in a little over her head. The house still needs a lot of work. I sure wish I could help her out.”

“Josie’s working on it. Myron gave her a loan so she can speed things up,” Nero said.

Jed’s eyes narrowed. “Myron? Is that that fancy-dan guy who came over earlier?”

“Yeah, he thinks he’s the cat’s meow with his tailored suits, shiny cuff links and designer shoes,” Marlowe said.

“Didn’t much like him.” Jed toyed with a delicate teacup that sat in a saucer on the kitchen table. It teetered in one direction then the other.

“Hey, don’t shove that on the floor, it’s from Millie’s great-great-grandmother’s Royal Albert china set,” Nero said.

Jed snatched his hand away.“Sorry. Can’t move it that far anyway. Try as I might I can only jiggle and wiggle things. I can shove them off if they are on the edge but that’s about it. Maybe I just need more practice.”

Nero hoped not. The last thing he wanted was for objects to fall to the floor repeatedly. Could be off-putting for the guests. Jed glanced at Josie wistfully.“I sure wish I could help her out.”

If Nero wasn’t mistaken, the ghost might be developing a crush on Josie. He’d seen that look before. Like one time when his feline friend Harry had a crush on that sleek white Persian with the blue eyes. He suppressed a sigh. Good thing Josie appeared incapable of seeing Jed. Ghost to human relationships never worked out.

Jed scratched his chin.“If that treasure is still out there, maybe we could get her to dig it up? She could use the money for the repairs on the guesthouse.”

Marlowe’s ears perked up. “You mean you might have some idea of where it is?”

“Well maybe, but…” Jed’s voice trailed off.

“But what?” Marlowe asked.

“Well, I’m not sure, but I think my killer may have taken it. Or someone could have dug it up after all these years.”

“Where did you bury it?” Nero asked.

Jed swirled over to the window.“Hard to tell after all these centuries. The land doesn’t look the same. Judging by the view of the cove, seems like we’re standing in the barn so I might have my landmarks mixed up. I’ll have to look around out there—truth be told, I haven’t been concerned about the treasure. Don’t have a need for it now. I was more drawn to my old things in the attic. As a spirit, I find that haunting the most familiar places feels comforting. But if it can help Josie, maybe I’ll widen my horizons and see if I can locate the area. Course if I do find it, I can’t dig it up.”

Nero flexed his claws.“How deep is it?”

“About two feet.”

“We can probably bring Josie over and give her a hint,” Marlowe said.

“That’s if we can find it.” Nero wasn’t convinced the treasure was still there or that Jed would even remember the location. The grounds had changed a lot over the last several decades, never mind over several generations.

“I can’t make any promises, but if I can find it, I might have an idea as to how we can get it dug up. First though, I need to go up and look the place over from the attic window to get my bearings. I’ll be in touch.”

And with that Jed disappeared leaving only a few drops of spirit dew on the floor.

“What do you think of his idea?” Marlowe asked, her gaze trained on the spot where Jed had just been as if trying to figure out how she could do a similar disappearing act.

“I don’t know. It would be nice if Josie got the treasure, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. If Jed even remembers where the treasure was, it will likely come to nothing. I think we should focus our energies on Madame Zenda’s pronouncement. It seems to have disturbed the other guests and I sense foul play may be afoot.”

Marlowe’s ears perked up. “You don’t say. I’ve noticed they are not a very trusting crew and I think some of them may be spying on the others.”

“Indeed. And that Anita Pendragon hanging around does not bode well.”

“Yes, I saw her lurking in the lilacs earlier this morning.”

“Yesterday she was hiding in the hydrangeas.” Beneath the hydrangeas was one of Nero’s favorite napping spots and he’d been put out that he couldn’t have his afternoon snooze because the nosey reporter was crouched down behind the bushes watching the house.

“And she was being furtive in the forsythia, too,” Marlowe added. “I say we put a tail on her and see what she’s up to.”

Nero liked the way the young cat was thinking. As an older feline, he took his responsibilities to mentor Marlowe in the ways of cat detecting and human training very seriously.

“We need to follow all of them, something is fishy around here.” Nero sniffed the air, the scent of salmon-flavored kibble causing his stomach to growl. Josie had finally left the kitchen after shooting a few concerned looks at their full bowls. Nero knew that she wanted them to eat and that, plus the fact that they’d been talking to Jed, had held him back from digging in. He didn’t want Josie to think they would trot over and start eating at her command. But right now, she wasn’t in the kitchen. “Let’s eat first, though. We might need the energy to figure out what these humans are up to.”

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With the sausage all cooked and stored in the fridge for the next day’s breakfast, I set to my cleaning tasks. Flora was dusting so I spent the next several hours doing laundry and vacuuming.

I couldn’t help it if doing the tasks allowed me to sneak around the nooks and crannies of the guesthouse unobtrusively. It was part of my goal to make myself invisible so as not to disrupt anyone. I’d noticed with the last few batches of guests, being “invisible” allowed me to overhear some juicy stuff. I’d hoped to hear more about Madame Zenda’s plan to talk to Jed’s ghost, but today my guests were silent. Madame Zenda was in her room preparing for her ghostly meeting, according to Esther who I’d crossed paths with in the foyer. Esther had called an Uber and was on her way downtown.She was very tight-lipped when I asked her opinion about Madame Zenda’s proclamation. She was also tight-lipped about why she was going into town, but maybe she just figured it was none of my business.

I was on my way to the back hallway to put the vacuum away when I spotted movement outside through the back parlor window. Anita Pendragon? Peering through the blinds I was surprised to see it was Victor Merino. He was skulking along the side of the house looking suspicious. Was he meeting with Anita? Trying to find a hiding place so he could follow Madame Zenda? He moved out of view and I scurried across the hallway to the butler’s pantry. The window in there would allow me to spy on him without anyone seeing. Or so I thought. Someone else was already in there. Gail, who had her face pressed to the window, spun around looking guilty, which was good because if she was guilty then she wouldn’t notice I’d been sneaking in here to spy on Victor.

“I was looking for some tea.” She held up the ever-present mug as if to prove it.

“It’s in the cabinet, same spot as always.” I glanced out the window trying to see what she’d been looking at. I didn’t see anything unusual unless you consider Victor tiptoeing through the overgrown gardens unusual.

“The tea leaves have told me to be aware of what’s outside.”

Something in her manner set me on edge. Now that I thought about it, Gail didn’t seem to be a very good tea-leaf reader. Her readings were always very vague. At least Esther had come up with the tall, dark and handsome routine. And Madame Zenda had produced the death card. Madame Zenda claimed to be a medium, Esther could summon spirits in her crystal ball, Victor claimed he talked to those from the afterlife in his meditations, but, as far as I knew, Gail only read tea leaves. That seemed like a one-way conversation to me.

I pulled some Earl Grey out of the cabinet and handed it to her. Her gaze had drifted out the window again and she jerked her attention back to me and took the tin.

“I was wondering, how will you be able to communicate with Jed using just tea leaves?” I asked.

She looked confused.“What? Oh, well… the leaves don’t actually help me talk to him directly. Not the way you think. But I see things in the leaves. Answers to questions. So I focus on a question and the answer is supplied.”

I craned my neck to peer into her mug where a clump of crushed-up leaves sat on the bottom. It looked just like a regular bunch of tea leaves to me but who knew, maybe the arrangement of the leaves had some meaning for her.“Have you gotten any answers?”

“Unfortunately I haven’t gotten anything from Jed.” Her eyes were drawn back to the window as if magnets were attached.

“If Madame Zenda isn’t full of hot air, he must be around. Maybe he doesn’t like tea,” I suggested.

“Maybe.” Gail’s gaze dropped to the tea mug and I sensed she had something to add but she remained silent.

“So whathave you seen in the tea leaves?” I asked.

“Oh… A few things about the guesthouse. Nothing important.”

“Things about the guesthouse? Like what?”

Gail’s gaze dropped to the mug. “I see lots of renovations.” She frowned. “And maybe some problems with completing them.”

My left brow ticked up. You didn’t need to be a psychic to see that I was doing a lot of renovations. “You don’t say.”

“Oh.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I know you have renovations going on, but this is more than that.” Then she glanced down again, a frown spreading on her face. “Of course, I also see something disturbing.”

“Disturbing?” What could be more disturbing than a bunch of psychics trying to talk to the ghost of the guy I’d found inside the wall? I leaned over to look into the mug again.

Her face darkened further as Victor passed by the window, ducking and weaving in the shrubs. What was he doing? Trying to figure out Madame Zenda’s location?

“Yes, you’d better be careful,” she whispered, then tore her gaze from the window and forced a laugh. “Listen to me being all dark and ominous. Nothing bad is coming, just be careful around that Myron guy. And don’t take what you hear from the guests too seriously. Everyone might not be on the up and up here.” With that she raised her mug at me and turned to leave. “Thanks for the tea.”

The conversation was a little unsettling, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. I also didn’t have time to think about it because two dark-clad figures lurking by the side of the house caught my attention. I pressed my face to the window. First Anita Pendragon, then Victor, and now this. How many people were skulking around in my yard and what did they want?

The two strangers resembled small, white-haired ninjas. Except they weren’t strangers. It was Mom and Millie and they were heading for the kitchen door.

Six

I got to the kitchen just as Mom and Millie came through the door. They were wearing identical plain black T-shirts. Their white, spider-veined legs called for attention beneath the hems of their black shorts. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the white pompom-backed Peds and tennis shoes sort of ruined the look.

Millie went straight to the fridge, presumably to inspect the sausages.“Oh good, I see you browned them. Very nice.”

“What do you think?” Mom gestured to the outfits. “We’re going incognito tonight so we can find out what Madame Zenda is up to without being seen.”

“It’s not incognito, Rose,” Millie said. “It’s undercover.”

“No, not really undercover… invisible, like a stealth bomber,” Mom said.

Nero and Marlowe trotted in from the pantry and looked Mom and Millie over, then glanced at each other as if wondering what the two senior citizens were up to.Mew. Nero looked up at me. If a cat could roll its eyes, I swear he would have done it right then.

I noticed their bowls were empty. So, theyhad rushed over to scarf down their food as soon as I’d left the kitchen. They didn’t fool me, I knew they liked to be ornery but I also knew they liked to eat.

“So you’re going to hide in the bushes and follow Madame Zenda?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Millie whipped out a copy of the Farmers’ Almanac.“This here says the moon will rise in forty minutes. We better be on high alert.”

Mom went to the kitchen window and cupped her hands around her eyes, peering out. It was dusk and the trees cast shadows in the dim light. In the distance, the ocean looked dark and ominous.

“We need to ascertain Madame Zenda’s whereabouts.” Mom sounded like she’d been brushing up on police lingo. Probably from one of the TV cop shows she and Millie liked to watch.

“Do you have an idea as to her whereabouts, Josie?” Millie asked.

“Last I knew she was in her room, but I really haven’t been keeping tabs on her.”

I knew Esther had come back and Victor was outside somewhere still. Gail had retreated to the back parlor with her tea. Had Madame Zenda already gone out to make her way to her meeting with Jed? Millie pressed her lips together and looked out the window.“I think we need to secure the perimeter.”

“Where should we start?” Mom asked. “I mean, what’s her most likely ETA and location.”

“She mentioned the moon kissing the ocean,” I said.

“Yes, but you can see that from anywhere,” Millie said. “Most of the property has a view of the cove and I don’t think she necessarily meant it would be in view. She was referring to the time she would meet with him.”

“Funny thing,” Mom said. “Why wouldn’t she keep that a secret? It seems like she wouldn’t want all the other psychics barging in on her meeting.”

“That supports my theory that she is up to something. Probably wanted everyone to know.” Millie nodded sagely. “Especially Anita Pendragon.”

“So you’re going with the theory that getting publicity about being the one who talked to Jed would boost her career?” I asked.

Millie nodded.“Yep, and she’s lying about really being able to communicate with him.”

Mom narrowed her eyes.“I don’t like liars.”

“Me neither, and that’s why I want to catch her. If we can figure out where she is, then we can observe her and see if she is faking,” Millie said.

“If we could figure out where she was going, we could get there ahead of time and stake the place out,” Mom said.

“In our undercover outfits, we’ll blend right in to the shadows.” Millie looked thoughtful. “Did she give any clues as to where she might be meeting him?”

I thought back to her pronouncement.“No. She only mentioned the moon.”

“True, but everyone knows that spirits like to haunt familiar places.” Millie glanced around.

“Well that doesn’t eliminate much. Wouldn’t this whole place be familiar to him?” Mom asked.

“Not thewhole place. Remember, most of this wasn’t around in Jed’s time.” I turned to Millie. “Do you remember which sections existed back then?”

“Well, the main part of the house was in the west wing. And there were barns on the property that no longer exist. There is a part of the attic that I think has some old belongings of the Biddeford family and, of course, there is the three-seater.”

“Three-seater?” I asked.

“The old outhouse. Three people could go at one time,” Mom informed me.

“Well, if Jed’s anything like my late husband, he’d be really familiar with that, maybe we should start there,” Millie said.

“No. We have to think like Madame Zenda. What would she know about Jed?” Mom asked. “Everyone knows his skeleton was found in the wall in the ballroom, so maybe that’s where she will go.”

Millie shook her head.“That’s not secluded enough. But didn’t Ed say he heard someone on the third floor? He thought it might be Anita Pendragon, but maybe it was Madame Zenda scoping out a good place for her fake meeting. The attic would be ideal, and no one would know it was locked until they went up to check it.”

I thought about Victor outside and Gail’s frequent glances out the window. They’d probably been trying to figure out where Madame Zenda would go, same as Mom and Millie. “I don’t think she’d do it in the house. I think all the others are trying to figure out where she is supposedly meeting Jed and the house is just too easy for them to find her. I saw Victor and Gail looking around outside. I’m not sure about Esther, she went into town, but she could have been waiting for Madame Zenda to get up from her nap so she could follow her.”

“Well there’s one place Madame Zenda might think would be familiar to Jed and it would make a perfectly eerie backdrop for her fake meeting,” Millie said.

“Where’s that?” Mom asked.

“The cemetery.”

“But Jed isn’t even buried there,” I said.

There was an old family cemetery on the property and when Jed’s skeleton had been found, his descendants had asked about burying him there but apparently it took an act of congress for that sort of thing to happen these days. And besides, the cemetery was overgrown and it would have been hard to even get the right equipment in there.

“Yeah but Madame Zenda might not know that. I’m certain she isn’t speaking to his ghost and she is very dramatic. What better setting than the cemetery? It’s creepy there,” Mom pointed out.

Millie scrunched up her face.“I don’t know. She might also be in the gazebo. That wasn’t around in Jed’s time but she might not know that either. You can see the cove from there and—”

“Ahhhhhhh!”

A blood-curdling scream split the air.

We jolted up from the table and ran towards the sound of the scream.

Seven

The scream had come from the northeast part of the property where the old family cemetery was. We dodged branches and fought through overgrown shrubs, my stomach sinking as we grew closer to the noise, which was now a low sobbing sound. Was it part of Madame Zenda’s act or had something happened to her?

Millie reached the cemetery first and paused just inside the broken wrought-iron gate. The moon had risen, and the slab headstones cast eerie shadows on the scene. Something lay on the ground next to a triangular monument with a weeping willow etched on it. Anita Pendragon stood over it.

Anita looked at us, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water gasping for oxygen. She pointed at the body. Madame Zenda. Millie crouched down beside the body, which was no pretty sight. Madame Zenda had been stabbed in the chest. Blood soaked the front of her white caftan. The weapon looked familiar. I leaned closer and recognized the Oyster Bay Guesthouse logo on the handle. Anyone could have nabbed that at any time. But that wasn’t the worst part of the scene. The worst part was the note on her chest that looked like it was written in blood.Get out. Leave me alone.

“What’s that?” Mom bent down and jabbed her finger toward an old rusty buckle that lay beside the note. I was getting a little concerned that finding dead bodies didn’t seem to faze my mother and Millie anymore. It wasn’t such a big deal for me because I’d been going to school to be a medical examiner before my career was derailed with marriage and a daughter. I was used to seeing dead bodies and it wasn’t just because this was the third one that had shown up at my guesthouse.

“Looks like an old buckle.” Millie glanced up at Anita. “Did you kill her and leave this note and buckle?”

Anita’s eyes widened. “No! I was following her to get a scoop on her talking to the ghost. But I lost her. I wandered around looking for her and then I stumbled upon that.” She gestured toward the body.

Millie looked skeptical.“Did you see anyone else? Like the killer leaving the scene, perhaps?”

Anita’s eyes darted around the area as if looking for the culprit. “No. It’s so overgrown here, who could see anything? Besides, it’s clear who the killer is.”

“Is it?” Mom asked.

“Yes.” Anita sniffled and let out a shaky breath before glancing around furtively and leaning toward us. “The ghost.”

Was it my imagination or was Anita acting just a littletoo scared? It didn’t escape me that the body and note would make a sensational story. And shewas the only one here. Would someone else have had enough time to kill Madame Zenda, leave a note in her blood (if it was, indeed, in her blood) and an old buckle and scurry off before Anita discovered her? Had it really been Anita who screamed upon discovering the body or was it Madame Zenda’s scream we’d heard as Anita was stabbing her? Anita was wearing a pink jacket and a white shirt underneath. Not a drop of blood was on her. Could she have changed clothes? She could have hidden another outfit anywhere in this messy overgrowth.

“I hardly think a ghost did this,” Millie scoffed. “Where would he get the murder weapon? Or a buckle? Can ghosts write notes?”

“I’ve heard of ghosts doing lots of things.” Anita gestured to the note. “And look at the note. It says to ‘leave me alone’. All these psychics were bothering Jed. And what about that old buckle? It looks to be from his era. You ask me, that’s a sign that it was him.”

The buckle did look old, but I’d seen some very convincing replicas. A closer look would be nice, but I knew better than to disturb anything at a crime scene. Luckily, so did Mom and Millie. Despite Sheriff Chamberlain’s crush on Millie, I didn’t think he’d look too kindly on that.

A rustle in the bushes announced a new arrival.

“I called the police, they should be here any minute.” Victor Merino appeared, giving the body only a cursory glance.

“How did you know the police would be needed here?” Millie asked. Clearly she was suspicious, and with good reason. Victor had hardly seemed surprised that Madame Zenda was dead. Was that because he already knew? He wouldn’t be the first killer that doubled back to the scene of the crime.

“I heard the scream.” Victor’s eyes darted to the body again. I saw a flicker of something. Fear? Guilt? “I figured it couldn’t be good, but I wouldn’t have thought it was this. What happened?”

He was going to have to come up with something better than that to convince me. So someone screamed, so what? It could have been that someone saw a snake or a rat. How did he know the reason for the scream involved something that the police would be needed for?

More rustling in the bushes and Esther appeared. Unlike Victor, she was visibly shaken. Her hands flew to her face.“Oh my, how dreadful!”

Then she stepped a little closer, curiosity apparently overtaking her horror.“Is that a note?”

“Yes, the ghost left it,” Anita said. She must have recovered from her grisly discovery because she’d whipped out her notebook and was taking notes.

“Poor Betty Sue,” Esther said.

“Betty Sue?” I asked as everyone turned inquisitive eyes on her.

Esther nodded.“Oh yes, that was Madame Zenda’s name before she changed it. Betty Sue Lipowitz. Did none of you know this?”

“No.” How would we have known that? But the fact that Esther knew indicated a past relationship. They must not have been close friends though, because Esther didn’t seem overly upset about her death. Millie zoned right in on that. “Did you know her well?”

Esther looked thoughtful. Was she reminiscing, or deciding how to cover up the nature of their relationship? Now that I thought about it, they hadn’t seemed friendly at all, in fact they had seemed slightly adversarial. Then again, all the guests had seemed that way toward each other. I hadn’t thought much about it as it seemed natural to have some professional rivalry in their business.

“Well, we weren’t besties or anything but we’ve both been mediums for decades and have crossed paths before.”

“Do you know why anyone would want to kill her?” Mom asked. By the tilt of her head and narrowing of her eyes, I could tell she had Esther at the top of her suspect list.

“Oh dear me, of course not. Such a shame. And what is with this note? Sounds ominous.” Esther looked around, as if expecting Jed’s ghost to appear from thin air.

“Yeah what is with the note?” Of all people, Myron had shown up. Now why in the world was he here? I thought about Mom and Millie’s insistence that he had a crush on me, hopefully he wasn’t stalking me or something.

He peered over at the body, his face turning visibly white. He looked as if he was going to throw up.“That looks like a warning.” He turned his scowling gaze on me and visions of my loan drying up ran through my head. Dread curled in my stomach. Were Myron’s concerns valid? I knew he was worried that rumors of murdering ghosts would affect bookings.

The sound of sirens split the air and Mom and Millie sprang into action, securing the crime scene as if they’d been deputized.

Millie moved everyone back from the body and Mom stood in front of them as if to provide a barrier. By the time Sheriff Seth Chamberlain and his deputies arrived on the scene things appeared quite orderly.

Seth glanced at the body, then at Mom and Millie, his gaze taking in their all-black outfits. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, then addressed Mom and Millie.“Okay, tell me what’s going on? Who discovered the body and how did you all get on the scene? And what is with those outfits?”

Millie filled him in on what had transpired, glossing over the reason for their outfits and simply saying that they just happened to be both wearing all black today because it was supposed to be slimming.

“And see, right there is proof this was Jedediah’s ghost.” Anita snapped a picture of the note on the body with her cell phone.

“No pictures of the crime scene, please.” Seth frowned at Anita. “And just what areyou doing here anyway? You’re not a guest at the hotel.”

Anita shoved her phone back into her bag, making a show of rooting around. Was she avoiding eye contact with Seth?“I… uh… heard through the grapevine that Madame Zenda was going to contact Jedediah Biddeford’s ghost. That’s big news.”

Through the grapevine? More like through my open window. But was that really the reason Anita was here? I could tell by the skeptical look on Seth Chamberlain’s face he might be wondering the same thing. Did Anita and Madame Zenda have some sort of arrangement and if so, was Madame’s death a benefit or a hindrance to Anita?

Seth glanced back at the body.“You don’t really think a ghost did this, do you?”

“Well, sure, who else would do it?” Anita asked.

Good question. I looked at the group of people—Anita, Victor, Esther. Apparently, the scream had brought them out from the guesthouse just like it had brought Mom, Millie and me, but was one of them the killer? And why hadn’t it summoned Gail? I would’ve been able to contemplate that more deeply if Myron wasn’t standing beside me, wringing his hands and nattering on about having a bad feeling about this.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear.“This is not good for the guesthouse, you mark my words.”

“Myron, what are you even doing here at this time of night?” I asked.

“I bet he came to ask you to dinner,” Mom whispered.

Myron straightened, his cheeks flaming as if he’d overheard my mother and was embarrassed. “I came to check up on my investment. I heard Madame Zenda talking about her supposed meeting this evening and figured I’d better stop by and see for myself exactly what kinds of shenanigans were going on here. Guess it was a good thing I did.” Helet his gaze rest on Anita. “My suggestion is that you may want to get rid of those psychics right away. Bad publicity travels fast.”

I wondered if that really was the reason, or if he had been about to ask me to dinner. Good thing none of us had an appetite anymore—hopefully the dead body would keep him from asking me out. Luckily, he didn’t have a chance to because apparently something else traveled fast too—Myron’s voice.

Seth snapped his head around and looked at Myron.“Get rid of them? I don’t think so. Everyone here needs to be questioned.” Seth waved his hand to indicate all the people who had gathered. “These folks are potential suspects. No one is allowed to leave town.”

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Nero stared at the body. The coppery smell of the blood made his whiskers twitch uncomfortably. He glanced sideways at Jed.“I thought you said you didn’t talk to any of them.”

Jed spread his hands out.“I didn’t, I swear.”

“Anita Pendragon seems pretty sure you’re the killer,” Marlowe said to Jed. The way that Jed was swirling and bobbing made it obvious that he was agitated. “Nah. Wasn’t me. I can barely push a small item off a table. How could I stab someone? And why would I?”

Nero studied the ghost. He seemed sincere, but then again, ghosts could be wily. And Jed had disappeared abruptly during their previous conversation. Nero hadn’t seen him since. He could have snuck out and murdered Madame Zenda and his claim that he could only push small objects could be a lie. Had he made a big show of it earlier just because he wanted an excuse as to why he couldn’t be the killer? But why would he care about appearing innocent in front of the cats? He was beyond any punishment from the humans.

“What about the curse?” Marlowe asked. “Maybe you wanted to prove the curse was real.”

“That was just hot air to keep people away. Besides, the curse was about someone messing with my treasure and I know the treasure wasn’t here in the cemetery.” Jed swirled over to inspect the body. It was obvious that none of the humans could see him. He passed by Victor and right in front ofEsther. Anita shivered when he went right through her, but the others seemed oblivious. Of course, Nero couldn’t tell if Madame Zenda could have seen him. She was beyond that. Maybe her ghost would pop up and enlighten them.

Jed’s ghost bent down to inspect the note, then he hovered over the buckle. “No way I could do all this. I don’t even write like that. That buckle does look familiar though. I think I might have had one like that on my going-to-church shoes.”

“You mean that exact buckle or just one that looks like it?” Nero asked. Probably a replica. Because how would Jed’s actual shoe buckle get on the body? Had someone been in the attic where Jed said his things were? Ed had mentioned he thought that he had heard someone up there, but as far as Nero knew the door was locked. Nero mentally added exploring the attic as the first item on his agenda for this investigation. It would be easy for him to get into the attic through the small crack in a door that led from one of the old servants’ rooms on that floor.

Naturally, the cats would be doing a thorough investigation. Nero felt it was his duty to protect the guesthouse and Josie. As cat caretaker of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse, the responsibility to keep it running weighed heavy. Three murders in a row could be a major deterrent to guests.

“Why would someone want to kill Madame Zenda and leave this note if it wasn’t you?” Marlowe looked up at Jed with intelligent, calculating eyes. Good, the young cat was also thinking along the lines of investigating and shared Nero’s suspicions of the ghost.

“Beats me. Looks like someone wants them to think it was me. But why would I kill her? I don’t stand to gain anything,” Jed said.

Marlowe glanced at Nero and Nero nodded sagely as if he had some inner wisdom that validated Jed’s words. He didn’t but, since he was the mentor and Marlowe the mentee, he liked to put forth the appropriate impression of being wise.

“We’ll investigate all options. But one thing is for sure. If it wasn’t Jed, then we may have someone very dangerous on our hands.” Nero glanced over at the body, where the police were busy photographing and cataloging, and made a mental note to be very careful around Jed. The ghost seemed sincere in his insistence that he wasn’t the killer, but one could never be too careful. “Because whoever did this, definitely has a motive powerful enough to kill for.”

Eight

“Maybe Madame Zenda was a little bit psychic after all,” Millie said as we sat in the kitchen waiting for the police to finish with the crime scene.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Well, she predicted a death in her tarot reading. Too bad it was her own death.” Millie rummaged in the fridge, coming up with an apple, left over from the sausages, which she proceeded to crunch into.

“I don’t buy that,” Mom said. “If she was any good, she would have been able to see her own death and therefore avoid it.”

Millie chewed the apple and glanced out the window.“Funny how Anita was already there when we got there.”

“And how Esther, Myron and Victor showed up so soon after,” Mom added.

“I guess the screams brought Esther and Victor to the scene, just like us,” I said. “But I wonder why Gail didn’t come running out.”

Mom’s brows shot up. “Maybe because she already knew what was out there.”

Millie shook her head.“No, I think the most suspicious ones are Anita and Victor. And just what was Myron doing here, anyway?”

I filled them in on Myron’s worries about all the ghost talk. “I think he’s having second thoughts about investing in the guesthouse.” I fiddled nervously with the silver salt-and-pepper shakers on the table.

“Don’t worry about Myron, Josie.” Millie patted me on the shoulder as if reading my mind. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

Mom nodded.“And besides, he has a crush on you. He’s not gonna take the loan away.”

“I know what will take your mind off of it.” Millie rummaged in the cabinets. “We’ll fix some nice lemon muffins for tomorrow’s breakfast. They’ll go fabulously with the sausage. What else are you going to make?”

I shrugged. I’d gotten so used to Millie coming over and helping I wasn’t quite used to planning the breakfast. “Maybe some scrambled eggs? I’ll heat up the sausage to go with it and then a fruit bowl.”

“That sounds perfect. The muffins will round it out.” Millie opened the fridge and gathered a lemon, eggs, milk and butter and placed them on the counter.

“So, we have another dead body and a slew of suspects. But I wonder… you don’t think Jed’s ghost really did kill Madame Zenda, do you?” Mom stood over at the bookshelf running her finger along the spines of the cookbooks. She stopped at the one that had fallen out onto the floor earlier.

Millie waved her hand.“Course not. There’s no such thing as ghosts, right, Josie?”

“Right.” I pulled out the new silicone muffin liners that Millie had suggested I splurge on and started lining them up on a pan. It would be convenient to think maybe Jed’s ghost did kill Madame Zenda, but I didn’t believe in ghosts. Someone more earthly had committed the murder and writtenthat note. “But why leave the note and the buckle?”

“It certainly was dramatic,” Mom said.

“Overly dramatic, but I suppose that was on purpose.” Millie measured out the flour carefully.

“You mean someone is making it look like a bigger story than it is?” Mom said.

My thoughts raced to Anita Pendragon. Clearly Madame Zenda had known she was lurking around outside and wanted her to overhear the announcement about her meeting with Jed, but why was Anita lurking here in the first place? Had Madame Zenda tipped her off or had she just known psychics would be at the guesthouse and thought she could dig up a good story? What lengths would Anita go to to turn a good story into agreatstory? One can’t be too hasty when trying to figure out a motive for murder though, and sprucing up a story so that it gets a lot of media attention wasn’t the only reason I could think of to kill.

“The killer could also be trying to muddy the waters and use misdirection to distract us with the note and buckle, when the real reason for the murder is that it is about a past experience with Madame Zenda,” I said.

“You mean like revenge or blackmail?” Mom’s eyes lit up. “Esther did seem to know Madame Zenda from before. She must’ve been close to her in the past if she knew her real name was Betty Sue.”

Millie turned to face us as she licked some batter off a spoon.“One of the last things Madame Zenda did was to make it very clear that she was going to talk to Jed’s ghost. Seems logical to me that either someone didn’t want her to talk to the ghost because he might tell her where the treasure is and she might get it first, or they didn’t want her to get the fame that might come from an article. Unless the murderer is trying to make us think that is the motive, as Josie suggested.”

“We can’t rule out Anita Pendragon. She knew Madame Zenda was going to talk to the ghost and, according to her, she was skulking around trying to witness their communication. Maybe she figured out Madame Zenda was a fake and killed her to make the article more interesting,” Mom said.

I was skeptical.“Would someone really kill over a newspaper article? I mean, it doesn’t seem like that would be worth much. Too much risk for too little reward.”

“But let’s not forget, we must investigate all angles,” Millie said. “Seems like there are quite a few motives for Madame Zenda’s murder.”

“Did you notice the murder weapon?” Mom avoided eye contact.

“Yes. My letter opener. But I keep that at the front desk and anyone could have taken it. The guests would have access and the front door is open during the day, so anyone could have come in and nabbed it,” I said.

“Even Anita Pendragon,” Millie added.

“Ed did say he thought she might have snuck in here,” I said.

“Hmm, when did you last see it?” Mom asked.

I tried to remember the last time I’d seen the letter opener. I was sure it had been in the house last week but that didn’t help. “I have no idea, with everything being electronic these days, I don’t get much mail.”

“It makes a good weapon, apparently,” Mom said.

I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter as Millie poured the batter into muffin liners. It wasn’t a surprise that Millie and my mother were automatically jumping into a new investigation. Whatwas a surprise was that I’d followed right along with them. Apparently investigating the last two murders had fostered some sort of detecting skill I didn’t know I’d had.

Of course, the idea that a killer was running around loose wasn’t very appealing. Nor was the idea that it could affect my bookings or my loan. Seth Chamberlain wasn’t what I’d call a crack investigator. He did the best he could, but the town of Oyster Cove didn’t normally have any murders and he just didn’t have the experience. If Mom, Millie and I needed to do a little detecting on the side to catch a killer, then so be it.

“It’s getting late. I think we need to sleep on it and come up with a game plan first thing tomorrow,” Millie said as she shoved the muffins in the oven.

“I already have one. Or at least the start of one,” Mom said.

Millie shut the oven door, straightened and turned to look at my mother.“What is it?”

“Someone went to a lot of trouble to dress up the murder scene. We don’t know their exact purpose for that yet, but we do know one thing.” Mom’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Someone had to get an old buckle similar to what Jed would have worn. Do you remember seeing a buckle like thatin here, Millie?”

Millie shook her head.“No. The stuff from Jed’s time is way back in the attic and I’ve never looked in there. I suppose there could be such a buckle, but how would someone get it? You still keep the door locked, don’t you, Josie?”

“I do. Can’t have guests getting hurt up there.”

Millie pressed her lips together.“Seems like a lot of trouble for someone to search the house.”

“Yeah, there are easier ways to find old buckles or buckles that look like they are old,” Mom said. “In fact, I think I’ve seen them at the fabric store.”

“Ones that look like the one on the body?” Millie asked. “It would make more sense that someone just got a replica.”

Mom frowned.“I don’t remember exactly what they looked like, but it behooves us to go downtown and check it out. If we can find who recently acquired such a buckle, then we just may have our killer.”

Nine

Nero and Marlowe had spent a restless night at the foot of Josie’s bed. It was no easy task sleeping with a human. You had to be vigilant so you could judge the right time to inch your way up to the top of the bed and curl up around their nice warm heads while they were sleeping without getting swatted away too many times. And then there was the pressure of waking up early—a necessity if you wanted to lay on their chest and stare at them as they woke. Nero always got a kick out of Josie’s wide-eyed reaction when her eyes fluttered open and she saw his face inches from hers.

While Josie was in the kitchen getting the breakfast ready for the guests, the cats did a cursory inspection of the rest of the house, which would be followed by their plan to search the attic. They found Flora in the dining room setting the table and they trotted in to rub against her saggy panty-hose covered legs to get their morning petting, before heading to the parlor where they could catch some rays from the morning sun.

To their dismay, the parlor was not unoccupied. Esther stood in front of the table where Madame Zenda’s tarot cards were still laid out. She was studying the cards with a pensive look on her face.

“She reads cards too?” Marlowe asked.

“Maybe she’s thinking about taking over now that Zenda is out of the picture,” Nero said.

But Esther wasn’t actually reading the cards. She picked them up one by one, placing them gently in a pile and then sighed as she put them off to the side. “Poor Betty Sue.”

Noticing the cats’ presence, her face cracked into a smile. She sat in the chair in front of her crystal ball and motioned for them to come to her.

“I don’t think Esther can be the killer,” Marlowe said as she trotted over and accepted a tuna-flavored treat that Esther had pulled out of her pocket. “She’s nice and has delicious treats.”

“Sometimes it’s the nice ones that you have to watch out for.” Nero felt it was prudent to exercise more caution in his assessments. He’d been around longer than Marlowe and had witnessed how humans often were not what they seemed.

Jed’s ghost swirled into view. “Have you guys been up in the attic recently?”

“I caught a delicious mouse up there last week.” Marlowe smacked her lips.

“Have you been way in the back where my stuff is? Who else goes up there?” Jed asked.

“As far as we know no one goes up there. That place is crammed full and it’s hard to get around, for humans at least. I don’t even think Josie has been through the whole attic yet,” Marlowe said. “But we were just about to go up.”

“Millie went up there when she was younger but, as far as I know, she hasn’t been up there in decades. She’s probably forgotten about everything up there as it is,” Nero added. “It’s all just a bunch of cast-offs and junk.”

“Yeah well someone’s been up there.” Jed fisted his hands on his hips. “I took a look through the trunk with my things in it and my good dress shoes are missing.”

Nero made a face and thought back to what the skeleton had had on for footwear. What was left of the clothing indicated that Jed hadn’t been dressed up and Nero distinctly remembered the shoes didn’t have fancy buckles like the one on Madame Zenda. “Well youhavebeen dead for three hundred years. I suppose in that time someone could’ve gone up there and rearranged things. Or even borrowed your shoes.”

Jed pursed his lips, apparently contemplating Nero’s words. “I suppose. But the dress shoes that are missing had buckles similar to that found on the body.”

This piqued Nero’s interest. Their first clue! “You don’t say? Maybe we better head up into the attic and see what we can find out.”

“Yes, we need to figure out what is going on around here. I don’t like that people are bandying about the idea that I could’ve killed that woman. I’m no killer. In fact, I was a murder victim myself,” Jed said.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem to remember things like where the treasure is.” Marlowe slitted her eyes. “Maybe with your ghostly amnesia you don’t know what you did last night. Have you blacked out or anything?”

“Certainly not. And I didn’t forget where the treasure is. It’s just that the landmarks have changed and I need to do some looking around to find the spot. I tell you, I’m no killer!” Jed’s voice rose in outrage. “You ask me, it was one of these psychics. Probably jealous that Madame Zenda said she could talk to me.”

Nero glanced sideways at Esther. She was gazing into her crystal ball intently, her kind face a study in concentration. Was she hiding something beneath that pleasant exterior?“Maybe we should do some investigating into each one of them.”

“My money is on that blowhard, Victor,” Jed said. “He’s been running all around the estate trying to conjure me up with some lame chants and incantations.”

“You haven’t tried talking to him?” Marlowe asked.

“No. I haven’t actually triedtoo hard to talk to any of them and even if I did, it wouldn’t be Victor. I wouldn’t give him the time of day.” Jed glanced over at Esther and his face softened. “If I was going to talk to anyone, it would be someone pretty. Like maybe that young filly over there.”

Nero followed Jed’s gaze. He wasn’t sure what Jed was seeing but Nero only saw an old lady with white hair and a network of wrinkles. “Young?”

Jed laughed.“Well, Iamthree hundred years old, so she’s young to me.”

“Okay then, so back to the shoes. We’ll go take a look. See if we can sniff out any nefarious human activity. But I don’t think anyone has been to that part of the attic in decades.” Nero wasn’t sure if he wanted Jed to fixate on Esther. He was getting the same moon-eyed look that he got when he looked at Josie. Apparently the ghost was looking for love and Nero didn’t want to encourage that. He wanted Jed to drift away to the afterlife and not linger in the guesthouse because he had a crush on some human. Then again, maybe if he set his intentions on Esther, he’d leave the guesthouse when she did and they could be done with him.

“I hope it was someone in this century.” Jed’s expression turned somber. “Though I suppose it could be the person who killed me—they were very expensive shoes. Or maybe it was my wife. She was mad that I went off to Europe for so long and there’s no telling what kind of revenge she’d want to enact. Could have taken it out on my shoes.”

Nero mulled this over. Could Jed’s wife’s vengeful ghost be lurking about in the guesthouse? The odds of two ghosts running around were practically nil, besides Nero’s fine senses would have picked up on a second ghostly presence. It made more sense that the shoes had been taken a long time ago, which made them irrelevant to the current happenings. But then how did one explain the buckle?

“Are you sure that buckle was from your shoes?” Nero asked. “I mean, there must be plenty of similar buckles around.”

“That one was old. Back in my day things were handmade so very few of the same thing existed. Sure looked like the buckle I had,” Jed said.

“Too bad the police have taken it for evidence, otherwise I could try to sniff out the age,” Marlowe said.

Nero’s tail twitched in approval. The young cat was coming along nicely in figuring out how to use her superior senses to aid in their investigations. She did have a ways to go in knowing how to use their extensive network of feline detectives though.

Nero turned to her.“Good observation. But even if we cannot apply our noses to the buckle, we do have an informant who can.”

Marlowe’s green eyes widened. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? We can ask Louie Two Paws!”

Louie was a polydactyl Siamese that hung around at the police station. He often came in handy when the cats wanted insider information on cases. Marlowe jumped down from the arm of the chair where she’d been perched and started out of the room. “Come on! Let’s go downtown. We can visit Louie and consult with the gang first, then we’ll check out the attic when we come back.”

“The gang” was a group of cats that all helped to solve the various mysteries that cropped up around town. Unbeknownst to the humans, the cats had been doing this for decades. They wanted to keep the quaint ambiance of the town of Oyster Cove and having killers and thieves running around wouldn’t do. Of course, the cats couldn’t let on to the humans that they were the real masterminds behind solving the crimes, they had to make it look like it was all the humans’ doing. It took a bit of cleverness to accomplish that, as humans could be rather dense when presented with clues, but Nero prided himself on the fact that they had a perfect record and no one suspected their involvement.

Nero was about to trot after Marlowe when he caught a whiff of spicy sausage.“We’ll leave momentarily. But first, we might as well slip into the dining room and fortify ourselves with some sustenance. We’ll need energy for the trip downtown. I’m sure Esther will slip us some treats and if we skulk along the edges and then hide under the tablecloths, Josie will neversuspect we are in there.”

Nero trotted off toward the dining room. His stomach growled in anticipation and he was only the slightest bit worried that he could be eager to accept treats from a cold-blooded killer.

Ten

Breakfast was a somewhat solemn affair. Esther, Victor and Gail sat together at one table. I hadn’t seen them sit together before and didn’t know if they were clustered together for comfort or to keep their enemies close, each being afraid the other had murdered Madame Zenda.