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The smell of sausage and coffee lured me closer to the buffet server and I picked at a lemon muffin as I eavesdropped on their conversation.

“I just can’t believe Madame Zenda was murdered right under our noses!” Gail wailed into her napkin.

“Speaking of which.” Victor narrowed his gaze on her. “Where were you? That scream roused me out of a deep meditation. It was loud enough to wake the dead.”

Gail sniffled and reached for her tea. She turned to Victor, a wan smile on her face, but not before I noticed a hint of malice in her eye. Was it simply that she didn’t like the guy? I couldn’t say I blamed her there, he was annoying. Or was she angry he called the fact she didn’t come running last night to everyone’s attention?

“I’m hard of hearing.” Gail pointed to her right ear. “I drank some chamomile tea and was out like a light. With my hearing problems, I never heard a thing. When I got up, the police were here wanting to question everyone. Imagine my shock when I found out why.”

Guess she hadn’t seen the murder in her tea leaves. A movement under the table caught my eye and I tilted my head just in time to see a ginger-and-black tail disappear under the tablecloth. Marlowe. I was sure Nero wasn’t far behind. Or probably in the lead. He seemed to be the instigator. I watched as Esther broke off a teeny piece of sausage and slipped it unobtrusively under the table.

There was no point in shooing the cats away. I didn’t want to call attention to them in case the other guests hadn’t noticed their presence. I’d also learned that telling them not to do something only made them do it more. Best to let them skulk around unnoticed. They seemed to be able to pick out the guests who didn’t mind having cats in the dining room and were able to hide their presence from those who did, so there was no harm.

“You ask me, it could be that reporter. She discovered the body.” Esther glanced out the window as if expecting to see Anita skulking around.

“But why would a reporter want to kill Madame Zenda?” Victor asked.

Esther shrugged.“Maybe Madame Zenda wouldn’t give her an exclusive.”

“Oh, did Anita ask you for an exclusive too?” Gail asked Esther.

Esther’s eyes dropped to her plate and she got busy eating the rest of her breakfast. “Maybe.”

Gail turned to Victor.“What about you? You’ve been awfully quiet with all your meditation. Did you talk to the reporter too?”

“I’m not quiet, I just don’t associate much with beings on this earthly plane. I prefer to spend my time on spiritual endeavors. I’m perfectly happy to wait for Jedediah to contact me as I’m sure he intends to do,” Victor said, avoiding the question.

Gail took a sip of tea, then looked down in the mug. Was she looking for something in the tea leaves?“But he was already going to talk to Madame Zenda. Why talk to the rest of us too?”

“Pffft… I doubt Biddeford’s ghost was going to contact Madame Zenda, as she has no psychic talent. She was probably making that up for the benefit of the reporter. If such an article got picked up for syndication it could have helped her flagging career.” Victor fluffed his napkin onto his lap with an exaggerated flourish. “You ask me, we should all be wary. There’s a killer on the loose.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure that Madame Zenda didn’t have any psychic talent. She did predict a death… too bad it was her own,” Esther said, echoing Mom’s words from last night.

Just then, the phone in the foyer shrilled. Darn it! I wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop anymore.

I rushed to the foyer and plucked the wireless phone off its cradle.“Oyster Cove Guesthouse!” I chirped in my most pleasant tone. No need to sound somber as if a murder had just happened the day before, that wouldn’t encourage potential guests to reserve rooms.

“Hi, this is Dolores Johnson.”

I hesitated, the name was familiar.

The person on the other end continued,“I had a reservation for next week.”

“Of course! Good to hear from you Mrs. Johnson. How can I help you?”

“Well, I hate to say it, but I have to cancel.”

My spirits fell.“Cancel. But why?”

“Ummm… you see… we’ve decided to go somewhere else on vacation. I read on your website that you can cancel up to seventy-two hours in advance and get a refund, is that correct?”

“That’s correct. So you’re sure you want a refund? I can’t guarantee the room will still be available if you change your mind again.” The guesthouse wasn’t fully booked, but you never knew when new reservations would come so it wasn’t a total lie.

“Oh, I’m sure. Thank you.”

I hung up the phone and stood there. Taking a vacation somewhere else? It was more likely word of the murdering ghost had gotten out. Maybe Myron was actually more perceptive than he let on. If news was spreading and people were afraid to come here, then I had to put a stop to it, and I knew of only one way—catch the real killer and then the newspapers would move on to more interesting stories.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and turned around to see Flora coming down. She had the big pink feather duster in her hand and was running it over the banister as she descended. She glanced down at me, the magnification of her large glasses exaggerated at that angle.“Something wrong?”

I sighed.“I just got a cancellation. I’m afraid all this ghost and murder business might be scaring people off.”

“Darn, that’s too bad.” Flora swished the duster in the air and a shower of dust rained out of it. “I don’t like that one bit. Of course, fewer guests mean less work for me but more guests mean job security and that’s more important. Guess I was right in shooing that reporter off then.”

“You mean Anita Pendragon? The one who has been hanging around outside?”

Flora descended so that we were at eye level, which meant that she was standing about four steps up.“Yeah, I caught her around the kitchen door looking like she was trying to get in.”

“When was this?”

“Couple of nights ago. Though I shouldn’t be surprised with all the goings-on around here. Tarot readings. Crystal balls. You ask me, all these people here are a bunch of weirdos. You should get a better clientele.” She fluffed the air with her duster one more time, then shuffled off toward the front parlor muttering under her breath, “No wonder murders happen here so often.”

I stood in the hallway a few minutes longer, thinking about what Flora had just told me about Anita. Why would she be trying to get in the back door and did that have anything to do with Madame Zenda’s murder?

I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it because just then I saw Millie’s decades-old Dodge Dart drive in. Mom and Millie jumped out and hurried to the front door, stopping short when they saw me standing in the hallway.

“Oh good, you’re ready,” Millie said. “We’re going down to Felicity’s Fabrics. They have the largest selection of buckles in town.”

I was momentarily confused.“Buckles?”

“Yeah, you know, like they found on the body.” Mom lowered her voice. “If we figure out who bought the buckle, we figure out who the killer is.”

“Speaking of which,” Millie said. “Do you still have that book with the historical etchings and photos of the guesthouse in it? I think there might be one we can use to validate whether or not that buckle really is Jed’s.”

Millie had left lots of things in the guesthouse. Furniture, doilies, plates, glasses and books, including a history of Oyster Cove that featured historical photos, etchings and drawings of the guesthouse. It hadn’t always been a guesthouse; initially it had been built by Jedediah Biddeford as a family estate, then over the years it had been expanded and eventually turned into an inn. I remembered one of the earlier etchings featured Jed and his family sitting in front of the house all dressed up. Apparently, Millie wanted to scrutinize it and see if we could match the buckle.

“It’s in the kitchen.”

Mom and Millie followed me into the kitchen where I plucked the book out of the bookshelf and handed it to Millie. Nero and Marlowe must have had their fill of breakfast treats because they trotted in and begged Millie for attention, which she had no trouble providing. After petting the cats for several minutes, she flipped through the book, stopping on the page with the drawing of Jed’s family. Jed sat in a chair, a small child on his knee and older children beside him. A dour-looking woman in a voluminous black dress, who I assumed was his wife, stood behind him. Off to the side several servants were lined up.

Millie whipped out her cell phone and zoomed in on Jed’s shoe. “Look at this! The artist must have been very good, it looks so realistic. Almost like a photo. And look at his shoes! Does this look like the buckle we found on the body?”

I peered over her shoulder. My memory of the buckle on the body was fuzzy, but it looked similar.“Hard to tell, that drawing might not be exactly accurate. Looks like it could be, but I’m sure the buckle on Madame Zenda wasn’t an actual buckle from Jed.”

“Yeah but why would someone go to the trouble of getting a buckle that looked like that?” Mom asked.

Millie snapped a photo.“Probably because they just wanted it to look like it could be Jed’s. Maybe I can persuade Seth Chamberlain to tell me if the buckle is a replica or not.”

Mom and I remained silent. Millie had a way of“persuading” Seth to tell her things about the investigation that he wouldn’t normally tell a civilian. Neither one of us wanted to know exactly what she did to get that information.

“So far the only thing I’ve been able to get out of him is that the note wasn’t real blood and the murder weapon was wiped clean.” Millie shoved the cell phone into her large purse. “Come on, girls. All we need to do is show the picture of that buckle to Felicity and find out who bought asimilar buckle and we can solve this case.”

Eleven

Felicity’s Fabrics was crammed with bolts of cloth—cotton, linen, taffeta, silk—in a rainbow of colors and patterns. Felicity, a woman in her sixties who had owned the store ever since I was a kid, sat at the register, her glasses perched on her nose and a colorful beaded eyeglass holder looped behind her neck.

“Millie! So good to see you again.” She leaned across the counter. “Are you here for more sheer fabric for another nightgown?”

Mom and I glanced at Millie, who at least had the modesty to blush.

“No. I’m here with a question.” She whipped out her phone and showed Felicity the picture of the buckle. “Do you have any buckles that look like this?”

Felicity pushed the glasses up her nose and scrunched up her face as she picked up the phone and held it at arm’s length from her face. “This looks like an antique.”

“Yes, but you have antique replicas here,” Millie said.

“Not like this.” Felicity handed the phone back to her.

“Are you sure? Has anyone been in asking about replicas of old buckles?” Millie persisted.

“Nope. Sorry.”

“And you’re absolutely sure?”

Felicity gestured to the side of the store where little cards hung in dozens of rows.“Look for yourself. These are all the buckles I have. You will find nothing that resembles the buckle on your phone.”

Millie bustled off toward the buckles and Mom and I followed. I shot a“thank you” over my shoulder at Felicity. A few minutes of studying the buckles proved that Felicity was correct. Nothing even close to the buckle that had been on Madame Zenda’s body was on display.

“Well, how do you like that, I thought we’d have this case solved by noon and could celebrate at the Marinara Mariner for lunch.” Millie’s shoulders slumped, the wind taken out of her sails.

Mom snapped her fingers.“Wait a minute. All is not lost. What about the antique store? I bet they have a lot of old buckles.”

Felicity nodded.“Sure they do. Lots of old stuff over there. And Agnes is doing some restoration and repurposing work, maybe she restored your buckle.”

We hustled toward the door, Millie stopping to admire a see-through pink polka-dot sheer fabric on display. I didn’t even want to try to imagine what she would make out of it. Some things were just better not to think about.

Withington’s Antique Store was across the street. Traffic was always light in Oyster Cove, so we sauntered across, admiring the colorful barrels of flowers and cheerful store awnings. The town had made sure that everything was in tip-top shape for the two hundred and fiftieth celebration a few weeks ago and the streets practically gleamed. Store windows sparkled; the cafe had put out several scrolly wrought-iron tables and chairs; and the whole thing was reminiscent of a Parisian sidewalk.

It was picturesque, especially with the cats that were trotting into the alley between the cafe and Withington’s. Wait… that looked like Nero and Marlowe. As I watched, Nero glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes catching mine. I could have sworn he nodded before turning back and continuing on his way. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen the cats downtown and it made me wonder how they even got down here. Was there some secret shortcut? If there was, I wouldn’t mind finding out so I could use it myself.

Withington’s Antiques smelled like old furniture and lemon pledge. It was crammed to the gills with oak servers, mahogany dining-room sets, crystal chandeliers and lighted glass cases full of vintage jewelry and knick-knacks. Agnes Withington had run the shop since I’d been in diapers and she had to be ninety years old. She sat behind the counter on a stool, a petite thing with a shrewd gaze.

She smiled as she recognized Mom and Millie.“Millie and Rose, what a pleasant surprise!” Her inquisitive gaze drifted to me.

Mom gestured to me.“Agnes, this is my daughter, Josie.”

Her smile widened.“Of course, she looks just like you. I heard you came back and bought the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. Plenty happening up there since you took over.”

You could say that again.

Millie whipped out her phone and slid it across the counter to Agnes.“Actually, that’s why we’re here. You might have heard there was an incident up there yesterday and we’re looking for someone who would have purchased a buckle like this.” Agnes squinted, then reached under the counter, producing a lighted magnifying glass, which she turned on to magnify the image on Millie’s phone.

While she was squinting at it and moving the magnifying glass closer and further away, Mom drifted over to a display of beautiful old pens that sat at the end of the counter. They were fountain pens and each sat in a little holder, their golden nibs pointing toward the ceiling.“These are quite unusual,” Mom said.

Agnes looked up from the photo, squinting for a few seconds as her eyes adjusted.“Oh yes, they are, aren’t they? It’s a new venture of mine. I repurpose old quill pens into newer fountain pens. Of course, I can make them into rollerball pens too, but those aren’t nearly as much fun as a good old fountain pen.”

“Nifty.” Millie tapped her finger on the phone bringing Agnes’ attention back to the buckle.

“Do you have an old pen you need repurposed? I’m having a sale. Lots of people are taking advantage of it,” Agnes said. “I’m turning Anita Pendragon’s great-great-great-grandfather’s sterling silver quill pen into a fountain pen and Leslie Bruber’s motherin-law is having me retrofit her grandmother’s old mother of pearl pen, too.”

“No, thanks,” Millie said.

“Oh and I repurpose old buckles and buttons into jewelry as well.” Agnes beamed with pride. “I could show you some if you’d like.”

“We’d love to,” Millie said. “But not today. Today we’d like to know aboutthis buckle. Perhaps you worked on it recently, restored it for someone, maybe?”

As Agnes stared down at the buckle again I looked at the pens. They appeared to be ancient. A few were made of horn, one looked like etched silver. My gaze fell on a purple card sticking out from the bottom of the display. It had a crystal ball on it with a Milky Way of stars swirling around it. I pulled it out further to see the name. Esther Hill! Had she been here for a buckle?

“That’s an old buckle,” Agnes said. “But this is a drawing, not a photograph, they didn’t have them back then.”

“Yes, we know.” Millie sounded impatient. “But the drawing is so realistic, we figure the artist drew the buckle exactly.”

“My guess is the buckle is from the early seventeen hundreds. You know they handmade them back then. Usually out of brass, then they would plate them with silver or gilt them with gold. This image is fuzzy and it’s hard to see the fine details, but you can see the intricate work on the top,” Agnes said.

“Yeah, we already figured all that. What we want to know is if anyone came in here and bought a buckle that looked like this,” said Millie.

Agnes put her magnifying glass down.“Nope.”

“You sound awfully certain. Don’t you want to think about it, maybe check some records?” Millie said.

“Don’t have to. I just thought about this the other day.”

“You did?”

“Yep. Anita Pendragon was in here asking all about Jedediah Biddeford and his treasure. Luckily, I already had a lot of information out on him from a few weeks ago when the skeleton was found.” Agnes pointed to a pile of papers and a book. “So, it’s fresh in my brain and I would’ve remembered if someone bought buckles just like this.”

“Anita was here asking about Jedediah?” Mom asked, her eyes widening as she nodded at Millie. Clearly this moved Anita up the suspect list.

Agnes pushed the phone toward Millie and bent down to store the magnifying glass back under the shelf.“Yeah, probably had something to do with that television producer.”

“Television producer.” This was the first I’d heard of that and the notion set my mind spinning.

Agnes nodded.“I don’t remember his name. Some muckety-muck in a suit. He came in and wanted to know about Jedediah Biddeford, too. Asked all about the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. Wanted to know all about the skeleton. He even bought a pen for my trouble. Good thing too, it’s important that these high falutin’ types realize information isn’t free.”

“He asked about the guesthouse?” This did not bode well. A movie about murders at the guesthouse would hardly bring in more guests. Or would it? One thing it would do is generate a lot of money for someone… maybe for the psychic who could talk to Jed. Had Madame Zenda known about the movie? Clearly Anita had.

“Yep, sounded like he was fixing to make a movie or a TV show or something. Kept asking about all this ghost business that you have going on over there with those psychics.”

The mention of the psychics reminded me that Esther had been here. She hadn’t been looking for a buckle, unless Agnes was lying or her memory was off, but did she know about the movie producer? I slid her card out from under the pen display and held it up. “And Esther Hill, what was she doing here?”

Agnes frowned and snatched the card out of my hand.“That there is confidential information. I don’t tell on my clients. You should know that, missy.”

All-righty then.

Mom gave me an I-raised-you-better-than-that scowl.

“Right. I was just wondering if maybe she overheard the movie producer asking about Jed’s ghost.”

Agnes shoved the card under the table.“Hard telling. Lots of people were here when that producer fellow came in and later on he was over at Annie’s clam shack making a big deal about how important he was. Half the town heard him then.” She paused for a few beats. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No. Thanks for the information.” Millie turned and we followed her out.

Outside in the street, Mom turned to us.“Do you really think someone is considering making the story about the skeleton into a movie? That could be quite lucrative and might even be good for business.”

Millie nodded.“And we all know that money is a prime motive for murder, but the question is… who knew about the movie?”

“Anita Pendragon did. Agnes said she was in the shop, she might have overheard and she was first on the scene with the body. She’s a reporter too and would know how to cover things up and make it look like she only discovered the body when she’s really the killer,” Mom said.

Millie started walking toward the car.“That’s probably why she was hanging around the guesthouse so she could be the first to scoop a story when one of them talked to Jed. Then she could partner with the movie producer and get her ten minutes of fame.”

“Esther knew too,” I said. “Or at least she could have known. Her card was at the antique store and Agnes was quite secretive about why it was there.”

“I still say that Pendragon and Madame Zenda were in cahoots,” Millie said. “That’s why Zenda was yelling out the window about her meeting with Jed.”

Mom nodded.“Probably knew about the movie and wanted to make sure Anita covered it so that word would get back to the producer.”

“I just hope that sourpuss Myron Remington doesn’t think the publicity would put people off from booking a room at the guesthouse,” Millie said.

I cringed.“Unfortunately Myron might be right. I got a cancellation just this morning.”

Millie stopped in her tracks.“You did? Did they say why? Maybe it had nothing to do with all the murders.”

“They didn’t say specifically but it sounded like they were making up an excuse.”

Mom patted my arm.“Don’t worry, dear. Once word gets out about a movie, people will be flocking to stay at the guesthouse. People like to see where a movie took place.”

I hoped she was right, but something in my gut said otherwise.“We don’t even know if there will be a movie and in the meantime I’ve had three murders this summer. No wonder people are getting nervous. We need to figure out who killed Madame Zenda ASAP so we can get this whole thing out of the headlines.”

“Good point,” Mom said. “People have short memories. Once this is all over then it won’t take them long to forget. Unless of course the movie producer wants to use the guesthouse as a movie set.”

What were the odds of that? Slim, I’d say. I was still hoping for a quick resolution and things to go back to pre-murder normal.

“I say the buckle is the key.” Millie walked down the sidewalk at a snail’s pace as we talked.

“Yeah, but no one was looking for a buckle,” Mom said.

Millie stopped in front of the candy store and turned to face Mom and me.“Not that we’ve foundso far.” Millie’s face took on a look of determination. “We’ll just have to keep looking. Meanwhile, I think we’d better take a closer look at our suspects and figure out who had the strongest motive to kill Madame Zenda.”

Twelve

“What do you think Josie is doing in the antique store?” Marlowe asked as they turned down a side alley that led to the docks and their ultimate destination of the bait wharf, where they would meet with the rest of the Oyster Cove cats. By now the cats would have heard about the murder and be working on the case. Nero figured Harry would bring Louie Two Paws, the Siamese cat that hung out at the police station. They were hoping to get a scoop on what the police knew about the investigation so far.

Nero glanced back over his shoulder. Catching Josie’s eye, he gave her a slight nod. “Must be about the buckle.”

“Looks like Josie’s catching on to this investigating thing. Maybe she won’t need our help after all,” Marlowe said.

Nero glanced at Marlowe, thinking she couldn’t possibly be serious, before the two cats let out a string of meows that indicated how hilarious the notion was. “Imagine that, the humans not needing our help!”

The cats turned down Ocean Avenue and then took another alley to the bait wharf. It was mid-morning, so most of the fishermen were out in their boats and the wharf was quiet, except for the slapping of waves against the side of the wooden docks and the cawing of gulls. Nero was trying to avoid the gulls. He glanced up to make sure one wasn’t swooping down on him as the delicious smell of rotting fish drew the two cats closer to their favorite secluded spot behind the large tuna scale that hung from a tall post.

The rest of the cats were already there. Juliette, the gray cat with a white diamond on her forehead, sat atop a stack of lobster traps, her fluffy gray tail dangling over the edge. Below her, Poe with his bright green eyes was finishing off the tail of a fish—haddock it looked like to Nero. Boots sat on another lobster trap, watching them approach with his usual superior manner. Truth be told, Boots and Nero had a bit of a rivalry going on, as they were both black with white markings. Nero, however, had the white tuxedo on his chest and Boots only had white on his paws. Nero figured that Boots felt inferior because of this and that’s why he acted so obnoxious.

Stubbs, the ginger cat, wiggled his stub of a tail and nodded at Nero and Marlowe. Beside him, Harry, the fluffy Maine Coon, picked a burr off his tail. Fluffy tails were nice for show, but they did tend to collect all kinds of burrs and twigs and could easily become painfully matted.

Louie Two Paws, a sleek seal-point Siamese, lounged in a patch of sun. His paws were splayed out in front of him and the extra toes made it look like he was wearing furry mittens. The velvety brown points of his ears matched the mask on his face, which highlighted his extraordinary sapphire blue eyes.

“Hey, Louie, how’s it going?” Nero asked as he plopped down beside Stubbs.

“Going pretty good.” Louie licked one of his paws. He was always doing that to call attention to their uniqueness. Apparently this impressed the female felines. “I was just telling the others that I got into the evidence room and sniffed the evidence. The murder weapon didn’t have any unique identifying scents on it, but that buckle was interesting.”

“How so?” Nero asked.

“That thing is old as the hills.”

“So it’s not a replica that someone picked up to make it seem like it was Jed’s?” Marlowe asked.

Louie shook his head.“Nope. That thing has to be about three hundred years old. It smells like antique molasses and old regrets. No fingerprints on the murder weapon. The note, of course, was not blood. Drippy red ink.”

“Of course,” Nero said. He’d thought he’d smelled as much on the body, but couldn’t be sure with the actual blood smell from the wound.

“And what information doyou have?” Poe preened his long curly whiskers fastidiously as he addressed Nero. “Have you set your superior intellect into figuring out if the killer is one of the guests at the guesthouse?”

“Yeah, seems like one of those kooky guests would be the perp.” Harry liked to use old detective slang. His human was an older gentleman and liked to read Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler aloud to the cat. Apparently he’d picked up the lingo.

“Well, they sure are kooky.” Nero couldn’t argue with the other cat’s assessment.

“And they did seem to be in competition to see who could talk to Jed’s ghost. However, we have an inside scoop about that.” Marlowe puffed up proudly.

Juliette raised a brow.“Do tell.”

Marlowe’s tail swished back and forth and her tone took on an air of importance. “We talked to Jedediah Biddeford’s ghost himself. Turns out he hasn’t spoken to any of them.”

“Not even Madame Zenda?” Poe asked.

“Nope, she made it up.”

“Humans always confound me,” Harry said. “Why would anyone lie about talking to a ghost?”

Juliette hopped down from the lobster trap, her pads making a soft thud as she landed on the wharf. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she causally said,“Maybe it has something to do with the movie.”

“Movie?” Boots must have been surprised at that news because he lost his grip on the whiskers he’d been grooming and they sprung back into a tight curl. He quickly set about smoothing them again.

Juliette fluffed her tail.“Yes, a producer was in to talk with Father Tim about a movie he wants to produce about Jed’s ghost and the treasure. He wanted to set some of the scenes in the church and cemetery.”

“Why would they set scenes in the church?” Stubbs asked.

Juliette shrugged.“Who knows? At first, Father Tim didn’t like the whole idea. He felt it was sacrilegious, but then the producer mentioned the donation to St. Michael’s could be quite hefty. Apparently a movie like this would make a lot of money.”

“Ahhh, money.” Boots started pacing. “It’s usually the root of the crime. That explains why all these psychics are really here. They must have gotten wind of the movie and wanted to reap the rewards. Madame Zenda lied so she could be the one in the spotlight.”

“And someone else wanted to make sure she didn’t get it, so they offed her,” Stubbs said.

“But it might not be one of the guests,” Nero pointed out. “Anita Pendragon has been lurking around the place too.”

“And she was the first one to discover the body,” Marlowe added.

“The director did say it could make any of the people involved very famous.” Juliet trotted over to a lobster trap and poked around inside for any scraps of bait that might be left.

“People?” Marlowe’s eyes narrowed. “What about cats? We’re the ones that Jed is actually talking to!”

“Don’t be silly, cats never get credit. But if they did have cats they would use feline actors just like they use human actors for people.” Juliette fluffed up her tail to its fullest. Nero thought it looked like a long gray toilet brush, but Juliette claimed that her fluffy tail was a sign of delicate beauty. “They try to choose cats that have a certain aesthetic appeal. I was thinking I could play Nero if I get discovered. I tried to call attention to myself by jumping on the producer’s lap and fluffing my tail in his face but all he did was sneeze and shoo me away.”

Boots preened his whiskers.“Just as well. I think I would be a better choice. They need a cat with brains.”

Nero scowled at Boots.Was that a compliment or an insult?

Boots continued,“Hopefully they’d pick actors that look better than the actual people, too. Take that Victor with his odd mustache. He won’t look good on the big screen.” Boots patted his mustache with his paw as if to highlight how much better looking his mustache was.

“Your mustache is much nicer than that Victor’s,” Juliet said.

The other cats rolled their eyes, echoing Nero’s thoughts that Juliette didn’t need to inflate Boots’ ego any more than it already was.

“You’ve seen Victor?” Harry asked. Good point. When had the other cats seen Victor?

“Yes. Father Tim and the producer were talking on the church steps and I was trying to highlight my acting abilities by skulking in the bushes when I startled a man who appeared to be lurking around the corner of the church. I thought he was eavesdropping, but then he came right over to Father Tim and introduced himself.”

“Did he say why he was there?” Harry asked.

“Not really. He had on the most luxurious velvet jogging suit in a deep plum. I couldn’t help but run my paws over it.” Juliette sighed and looked off into the distance as if remembering the soft feel of the velvet. “I think he was hinting around at playing the lead in the movie though.”

Nero’s whiskers twitched. “Victor was at the church? Was this before or after Madame Zenda was murdered?”

“Oh, it was before. That very morning, in fact,” Juliette said.

Nero glanced at Marlowe. Victor knew about the movie. Funny though, Nero hadn’t heard Victor mention that to the others. Which made him wonder just how far Victor would go to make sure he got the lead.

Thirteen

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

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

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

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

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

See what I mean?

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great, Mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jen was behind the counter.

“What’s with Mrs. Pennyfeather?”

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

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

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

“Yeah. But no ghost.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” I lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fourteen

Nero usually didn’t spend much time in the attic unless he was hunting for mice. The small dormer windows didn’t let in enough sun for his liking and the smorgasbord of smells from the generations of people who had cast away their belongings was distracting.

The space was packed with broken old furniture, old clothing and various household items. Had no one who lived in this house ever thrown anything away? And the dust! It lay thick like a carpet on the floor, especially in the back area where the oldest items were. Nero had to tread carefully so as not to stir up too much of it. He didn’t want to get dirt on his pristine, white tuxedo chest.

“Seems like you’re getting kind of famous around town,” Marlowe said as she detoured over to sniff a pile of books. On their way back to the guesthouse, the cats had heard the townspeople gossiping about Jed’s ghost and the recent murder. Some were even talking about the treasure again, butno one seemed eager to look for it, thinking that Jed’s ghost was out to kill anyone who did.

“Someone is even talking about making a movie,” Nero added. Jed’s swirling form jerked in dismay. “I don’t think I want to be famous. I’m getting a bit tired of this old place now. I think I want to move on to whatever one moves on to.”

“Well then, why are you still here?” Marlowe asked.

“Good question. I feel like I’m stuck here for some reason,” Jed said.

“Unresolved issue,” Nero said. “There was only one reason for ghosts to hang around and that was an unresolved issue. In Jed’s case it made perfect sense because he’d been murdered. “Probably you want your killer named. You have no idea who it is?”

Jed shook his head.“None at all. I vaguely remember returning from Europe. I had that treasure, you know. But I didn’t trust too many people, so I buried it before anyone knew I was back in town. I had to keep it all a secret because I knew people were watching me.”

Marlowe’s eyes grew large. “They were? Who?”

Jed glanced around uneasily as if those people were still around watching him.“People in my own household.”

“You don’t say,” Nero said. They’d come to the very end of the attic where the light from the east filtered in through a perfectly formed spider web in the round window at the peak of the eaves. Here, the cast-offs were older and much more worn. Newspapers as brittle as dried leaves were piled in one corner. Wooden chairs hung from hooks on the wall, the wicker caning in the seats and backs broken and hanging down. An old steamer trunk sat in the corner practically disintegrating.

“Oh, it’s true.” Jed stood up straighter. “Course, I knew Helena—that’s my wife—might’ve been up to something while I was gone. She was none too happy about my trip to Europe.”

“Do you think she killed you?” Marlowe’s tail swished, sending particles from a patch of dust on the floor into the air.

Jed pondered that for a few seconds and Nero wondered what kind of woman his wife had been. Had she been mad enough to kill? And what happened to her after Jed’s death? Judging by the way the trunk had been shoved in the corner she might have packed up his things and forgotten about him. But that had nothing to do with the current happenings at the guesthouse… or did it?

“Don’t rightly know.” Jed glanced at the trunk. “I was shut up in that wall until now so I don’t know what became of her. I don’t think she had the skills to plaster a body inside a wall though.”

“She might have had an accomplice,” Marlowe suggested.

“If that’s true, they probably took the treasure,” Nero said. He was certain there was no buried treasure on the property as he would have sniffed it out by now. Treasure had a certain hopeful smell to it.

Jed swirled over to the trunk and sat on top of it.“Course that doesn’t explain why someone took my best pair of shoes.”

Nero thought about the buckle.“You mean the fancy ones with the buckle on them?”

“Yep.”

“And they were in this trunk?” Nero inspected the latches. They were broken so someone could get in easily, the only problem was he didn’t see or smell any recent sign of humans. If someone took Jed’s shoes to plant the buckle on Madame Zenda, then wouldn’t there be some sign? And how would they even know the shoes were in there?

Jed looked down at the trunk.“You can see all my good clothes are in there, but no shoes.”

“Actually, we can’t see.” Marlowe gestured toward the trunk. “It’s closed.”

Jed stood and the three of them pushed on the top of the trunk. It was heavy and Nero was careful to keep his claws in lest he break a nail on the old wood. Beside him Jed grunted and struggled, beads of ectoplasmic sweat dripping from his brow. How had Jed gotten the trunk open all by himself before?

Finally, the hinges creaked and the trunk opened. Jed pointed to the deteriorating contents.“See? No shoes.”

Nero and Marlowe hopped inside, carefully pawing through the musty old fabric. The clothing had been chewed by moths and was frayed at the edges, but Nero could see it had once been good quality. A suit, a silk robe and something that looked like a white linen slip. He slid his paw over it and glanced at Jed with his brow raised.

“What?” Jed’s eyes flicked from Nero to the white linen. “That’s my night shirt.”

Nero wasted no time getting out of the trunk. It had been stifling inside there. After a fit of sneezing he looked up at Jed.“You’re right. No shoes. I guess we should close it.”

“Yep. Leave it the way it was,” Jed agreed, but didn’t make any effort to close the lid.

“Can you do it?” Nero asked, not because he was too lazy to help but because he wondered how Jed could have gotten it open and closed when he could barely push salt-and-pepper shakers off the table.

Jed pushed on the top of the trunk, but it only budged a few inches then fell back open.“Guess I need help.”

Nero and Marlowe trotted over to the other side and between the three of them they pushed it closed with a loud thud that Nero was sure Josie could hear downstairs.“It took all three of us to close it,” Nero said.

“Yeah. So?” Jed sat back down on the top of the trunk.

“If it took all three of us to open and all three of us to close it, then how did you know the shoes were missing?” Nero gave Jed one of his unblinking stares. “You wouldn’t have been able to open the trunk.”

Jed didn’t even hesitate before answering. “Easy, I can just pass through to get inside.”

“You can?” Marlowe batted at Jed’s ankle, her paw passing right through the apparition. “Guess you aren’t solid so that makes sense.” Marlowe shrugged at Nero and then hopped up on top of a stack of old newspapers and proceeded to preen her tail.

“How do you think I get into rooms with closed doors? I can go pretty much anywhere it seems. Lucky thing too or I’d be stuck in that old ballroom and it’s mighty boring in there,” Jed said. He had a point. Jed had been going in and out of the west wing and the door to that wing was always closed. Plus he’d gotten into the locked attic with ease. Apparently he was telling the truth.

“Then how come you were stuck inside the wall all this time?” Nero asked. “If you can go through things, why not just come out?”

“I didn’t know any better,” Jed said. “I wish I had, but all I knew was I was in a dark place. Spent most of my time in limbo. It’s kind of fun over there.”

Nero supposed that could be true. Jed sure did look like he was telling the truth, but he cautioned himself. Ghosts were known to be sneaky.

“So, what did this buckle look like? Similar to the one found on Madame Zenda?” If no one had been here recently, had the shoes been taken long ago by Jed’s wife? Was her ghost around trying to eke out some kind of revenge on Jed? Perhaps by killing Madame Zenda and trying to frame him by using the buckle. No. It was ludicrous. How could a ghost save a buckle for three hundred years?

Jed squinted, apparently thinking back to the buckle they’d found on the body. “Yep, near as I remember it was almost exact.”

Marlowe stopped mid-preen. She’d had her leg lifted to get at the underside of her striped tail and was now staring down at the newspapers upon which she was perched. “Hey, are these the shoes here?”

Jed bent down, his face inches from the paper, to look at the paper. On the front page was an etching. It was the one Nero had seen in the town history book depicting the Oyster Cove Guesthouse back in Jed’s day when it was a smaller family estate. Jed sat outside with his wife, children and some servants. It looked like he was wearing the outfit they’d seen in the trunk, though it was in much better shape.

“Yep, those are my good dress shoes. Only had one pair.” Jed smiled. “I remember when that was drawn. The artist was quite good, captured everything perfectly. We had to sit still for a long time. Was hard on the children.”

Nero summoned his cat-like powers of vision. The picture was grainy, but his super senses allowed him to see much clearer.“Yep, that’s identical to the buckle we found on Madame Zenda.”

“And Louie Two Paws said that buckle was three hundred years old,” Marlowe said. “That means it could be Jed’s actual buckle. I guess that’s good. We know where the buckle came from.”

Nero glanced back at the trunk.“But that doesn’t bring us any closer to the most important questions. How did the killer get Jed’s buckle and why did they put it on Madame Zenda’s body?”

“True dat.” Marlowe jumped down and padded off toward the stairs. “Only one way to find out. We need to get Josie up here so she can figure out the buckle came from Jed’s trunk herself.”

Fifteen

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

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

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

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

Thud!

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

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

“Must be the cats,” Mom said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all shook their heads.

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

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

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

Thunk!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have some new information on the case.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

“Of course. I’m always careful.”

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

“Ed?”

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

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

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

Sixteen

Nero stared down into the empty hole in the ground.“Guess someone did take the treasure just like you thought.”

Jed swirled beside him, his ghostly form tinged red with anger.

“Do you think it was one of the psychics?” Marlowe moved closer and sniffed, then shook her head. “No, can’t be. The treasure scent in here is old, but the disappointment scent is new.”

Nero agreed. As he had suspected all along, the treasure was long gone. They’d seen Esther dig the hole, so they knew she hadn’t taken anything out, but even before that the ground had been packed down, the grass grown solid over the top. No one had dug here in many decades.

“Are you sure you told her the right location?” Nero glanced up at Jed cautiously. Jed had claimed that he’d successfully communicated with Esther through her crystal ball. He must have been telling the truth because Esther had come here and dug.

Jed scowled down at him.“Of course I know the right place. Sure, it took me a while to figure it out because the layout of the property has changed, but once I found the old outhouse, I paced it off and this is the spot. The big oak tree is gone, but you can see where it stood.” Jed pointed to a round sunken depression in the ground. “This here is thirty paces northeast.”

Nero and Marlowe nodded. Though the treasure was long gone, it could have been worse. Someone could have bought this old property and put up a strip mall and the hiding spot would be located under a parking lot. At least now they knew for sure that the treasure was gone.

Jed plopped down on the ground. Nero felt sorry for the ghost, he looked deflated.“Darn. I was hoping that pretty little Esther would dig the big treasure up.”

“So you really did talk to Esther?” Nero said.

Jed nodded.“But she’s the only one. I didn’t talk to that loudmouth Victor. I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

“Huh, then I wonder why he said you were talking to him,” Marlowe said.

“Clearly it was for the television producer,” Nero said. “That newspaper reporter has been hanging around outside and you know she’s going to report back to him. Like Juliette said, Victor is setting himself up to be the star of the TV show.” Nero was sure of it.

“Which makes me wonder how badly he wants that,” Marlowe said.

Nero nodded.“Bad enough to kill.”

“Exactly.” Marlowe started pushing the dirt back into the hole with her paws and Nero joined her. They didn’t want anyone to know that someone had been digging. Especially not that nosey Myron Remington who they’d seen traipsing all over the property. Nero didn’t trust him one bit.

“Never mind that, we need to find out who killedme,” Jed said. “I’m getting tired of hanging around here and something tells me I’m tied to this property until I figure that out.”

“How do you expect us to figure out who killed you?” Marlowe said. “That was three hundred years ago.”

“I don’t know, but clearly someone killed me and took the treasure and given that some of my stuff is missing from the attic, I feel like the answer must be up there.”

“I think that points to someone in your family.” Nero thought about Jed’s earlier accusation that his wife hadn’t been happy with him. Had she killed him? How could they prove that?

Nero didn’t mind putting some effort into that investigation, but his first priority was figuring out who had killed Madame Zenda. Could the two murders be related? Impossible, one had happened three hundred years ago… unless Jed’s wife was really steamed at him and had waited three hundred years to get an even bigger revenge.

Nero closed his eyes and focused. He sniffed the air and waited for that twinge of the whiskers that told him something other-worldly was present. Nothing extra came through, just the vibrations from Jed.

“What on earth are you doing?” Marlowe asked. “We need to get Josie up into the attic so she can help us with the case. We can only do so much as cats. I know she was about to follow us up before Myron interrupted her.”

The shadows were getting longer and Nero glanced to the west where the sun was just dipping below the horizon.

“Good thinking. But not tonight. It’s almost dark and the attic is no place to be without the light of day to illuminate things.” Nero didn’t think Josie would like all those creepy shadows and dark corners. “I think our time is better spent searching the guests’ rooms before they come back from dinner. First thing tomorrow, we will get Josie to the attic.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

My favorite time of day was suppertime, mostly because I didn’t have to serve it. The guests usually went out to eat and the giant mansion was quiet. Today was no exception and I was doubly glad because it gave me a chance to investigate the guests’ prior connections to Madame Zenda.

For once, the cats weren’t getting in the way. Usually they lay on my keyboard or stuck their tails in my face when I tried to use the computer, but tonight they were nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure what they were up to, but I could hear soft noises on the floors above as I sat in the back parlor, feet up on the coffee table and my laptop on my lap.

Up in the attic, perhaps? I remembered how they’d seemed to want me to follow them up there earlier in the day, and I had a vague notion that I should check the place out, but it was getting dark and I didn’t know what the lighting situation was up there, so now wasn’t a great time. Besides, something told me that I had to wait for the cats. If they had something to show me then they needed to lead the way.

Information on the guests was surprisingly easy to obtain, simply by googling. I guess when you are in a profession that depends on clients you have all your info out there. It wasn’t much different for the Oyster Cove Guesthouse; I needed an Internet presence so people could find me. Apparently psychics needed that too.

As I’d already known, Madame Zenda and Esther had worked together a few times. Not that that should make me suspicious because Esther wasn’t trying to hide the fact. She’d mentioned it right off. Except it hadn’t beenright off. It had only been after the murder. Initially the two of them had acted as if they barely knew each other and had exhibited the same undercurrent of animosity that I’d felt between all of the guests. Had Esther realized that the police would find the connection and made sure to mention it right away so as not to appear as if she was hiding something?

From what I could find on the Internet, they’d been crossing paths for over twenty years. Appearing on telethons together, local television shows and even a circus stint. I didn’t find any bad press about either one of them.

Victor, on the other hand, had a more checkered past. I found the article from theDayton Ohio Examiner about the scam that had been referred to earlier. Apparently, he’d been a personal psychic to a rich widow, Mary Chambers. He’d told her he was communicating with her dead husband. The widow’s family had claimed he was a fraud and made a lot of commotion in the papers. There was talk of a lawsuit since Mary had paid him thousands. Mary passed away of natural causes and a lawsuit was never filed and nothing had ever happened to him, except a bunch of bad press.

According to the article, Victor had met the widow on a Dreams Divinity seven-day cruise. I’d never heard of them but apparently there were cruises that featured psychics. They gave group readings and passengers could hire them for private readings as well. Sounded like a perfect place to find a mark that would willingly spend money thinking you were letting them talk to their dead loved one.

A quick glance at some press for that particular cruise told me that Madame Zenda, Esther Hill and Victor Merino were listed among the featured mediums. Not Gail though. Interesting. Was it possible that Madame Zenda knew something about Victor’s scam with the woman and Victor didn’t want her to tell anyone? But why spill the beans now, when it was all in the past? A picture of some of the mediums and passengers on the cruise showed Victor smiling like the cat that ate the canary, his mustache even larger than it was now. Was he smiling because his plan to scam rich widows was well under way?

I googled Gail Weathers but couldn’t find a thing. Odd… then again, Victor had alluded to her being an unknown. Maybe she was just starting out? She certainly did drink a lot of tea, so maybe she needed the practice.

Thud.

I jumped as a Murano glass paperweight rolled across the green-and-gold oriental rug. Must have toppled off of the side table. Instinctively I looked for the cats, but they weren’t here. A cold chill crept up my spine, then I laughed. All this ghost talk was getting to me. Clearly the paperweight had just rolled off. Flora must have put it on its rounded side instead of on the flat bottom when she’d dusted.

I shut the laptop and headed to the kitchen to check that everything was in order for breakfast. I whipped up some waffle batter and put it in the fridge. I wanted to get the breakfast set up quickly the next morning so I could be ready to test out my suspicions that the cats really were trying to show me something in the attic.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“There’s nothing in here but tea.” Marlowe backed out from under the bed and sneezed. Nero glanced around the room. The other cat wasn’t kidding; the place was loaded with tea tins. White, black, green, herbal. You name it and Gail had it in her room. It made him wonder why Gail was often seen in the kitchen pantry taking Josie’s Earl Grey. Maybe she was just cheap.

“Well, that about does it. We’ve scoured all of the guests’ rooms and haven’t found one thing.” Nero was disappointed. It wasn’t as if he’d expected to find a smoking gun or anything, but if the killer was one of the guests wouldn’t they have had paper that matched the note or a bigred pen? Though a crafty killer would have thrown those things out…

Marlowe turned up her nose.“Other than that noxious cologne in Victor’s room.”

“That did smell horrid, but his velour lounging suits are soft to the touch.” The velour was so soft, it must have been very high quality—clearly Victor Merino was a human that liked the finer things. Everything in his room had been top-notch, from the offending cologne to the expensive luggage to the clothing.

“So, what now?” Marlowe sat and looked at Nero with her head tilted to the side quizzically.

Nero glanced out the window. The moon had risen and cast a soft glow over the landscape. The guests weren’t back yet, but he’d heard Josie knocking something over in the back parlor earlier and she was now rattling around in the kitchen. The guests would return any minute and it would only be a few hours before Josie went to bed, which meant they had a little time to go down to the bait wharf and meet with the other cats to find out if any of them had discovered anything.

“We meet the others.” Nero headed toward the cat door that Millie had installed for them in the old storeroom on the first floor.

Nighttime was Nero’s favorite time to visit the bait wharf. He loved the play of the moonlight on the waves and the fact that the gulls were all tucked in their nests—or wherever they went at night—and wouldn’t be rudely swooping down on them.

When they arrived on the docks, Harry was sticking his paw in the water trying to skewer a fish with his sharpened claws. He did this all the time, although Nero didn’t know why. It had only worked once and even then Harry had been so surprised that he fumbled the fish and it slipped back into the water with nary a backwards glance.

The gang was all there. Juliette lounged on the concrete slab under the tuna scale. It was probably still warm from the sun beating on it all day. Stubbs was curled up on top of a lobster trap, his tail around his nose. One green eye slid open as Nero and Marlowe approached. Poe and Boots had been batting around a piece of rope and they stopped and turned to Nero.

“Anymore news about that movie producer?” Nero asked.

Stubbs yawned and sat up.“I put a tail on that nosey dame reporter, Anita Pendragon. She met with that movie mogul. She’s involved in something.”

Nero nodded. No surprise there.“Has anyone picked up any other clues about the murder?”

Boots bestowed his look of superiority on them.“I have heard that it is someone closely tied to the guesthouse.”

Marlowe practically rolled her eyes.“No one else in town knew her, so that’s kind of a given.”

Boots looked down his nose at Marlowe.“Are you sure about that?”

Marlowe frowned and glanced at Nero who nodded his head slightly. It was most likely that the killer knew Madame Zenda and he was certain she didn’t know anyone in town.

“What about the buckle?” Nero asked.

“Nothing new on that,” Harry said. “I talked to Louie Two Paws earlier today. The police haven’t made much progress. They are checking out all those guests at the guesthouse. Seems that some of them have a shady past. But nothing new on the buckle.”

Shady past. Nero wasn’t surprised at that either. Judging by the way they acted so secretive amongst each other at the guesthouse, he knew they were the type that would often be up to something.

“What about you?” Juliette purred. “You’re in the guesthouse with all of the suspects. Surely you have found out something by now? And have you followed up on my clue about your velvety jogging-suit wearing guest and the movie producer?”

“We didn’t find anything in his room, but we do have something on the buckle that might be of interest,” Marlowe said.

Poe turned to look at her.“Do tell.”

“Jed’s ghost verified that his shoes are missing from a trunk in the attic. The shoes with the buckle,” Marlowe said. “Jed’s suit is in there and all his other things, but no shoes.”

“So someone has been in the attic,” Stubbs said.

“Looks that way,” Nero said. “Though I don’t see how. Josie keeps it locked.”

“And the buckle on Madame Zenda really was Jed’s buckle?” Poe asked.

“Most likely,” Nero said.

“Points to one of those guests even more,” Juliette said. “But you found no indication in their rooms that they were the culprit? No drippy red pens or smells of old buckles?”

“No,” Nero admitted. “But we have made another enlightening discovery.”

The other cats stilled and looked at him in anticipation. He drew the moment out for a few seconds basking in the attention, then continued.“We know for sure that the treasure is long gone.”

Boots frowned.“The ghost told you that?”

“Sort of. He suspected such and once he remembered exactly where he had buried it, he had one of the guests dig it up. Marlowe and I inspected the hole ourselves and it’s been empty for centuries.” Nero felt a bit sad about that. Josie could have used the money to complete renovations on the guesthouse. If she had treasure, she could get out from under Myron’s thumb.

Juliette looked at him curiously.“So Jedis talking to the guests. They’re not all frauds?”

“Nope. Turns out at least one, Esther Hill, really can talk to ghosts. Jed has been communicating with her through her crystal ball,” Marlowe said.

“Is that so?” Boots tugged on his long whisker, curling it up at the ends in that showy way he preferred. “Well then, surely this Esther Hill has made it known that she can communicate with Jed? After all, that seems to be the reason they are all at the guesthouse, so they can earn their way to fame in the movie.”

Nero and Marlowe exchanged a glance. Esther had been very quiet about her communications with Jed. She hadn’t bragged once about talking to the ghost. “No, actually I don’t think she has.”

“Well, maybe not to anyone at the guesthouse,” Marlowe said. “We don’t know if she has mentioned it to Anita Pendragon. She might not want the others to know that she can talk to Jed because… well… look what happened to Madame Zenda after she announced that she was going to talk to him.”

Nero nodded enthusiastically. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of that but was proud that Marlowe had.“Yeah. Good point.”

Stubbs poked around in one of the lobster traps.“If Esther is keeping quiet because she’s afraid the killer will target her next, then that meansshe isn’t the killer.”

“There’s something else that may be in play here.” Poe paced the outskirts of the group, his tail swishing, head down, apparently deep in thought.

“What?” they all asked.

He stopped and faced them.“Thus far, we’ve been assuming that Madame Zenda was killed because she said she could talk to Jed’s ghost. Whoever killed her didn’t want her talking to the ghost because they wanted the fame. A movie deal would be quite lucrative. Or that someone had a vendetta against her.”

“We did determine that most of them have crossed paths before,” Nero said.

“Yeah, Esther knew her real name,” Marlowe added.

“And a movie deal could make them a lot of money.” Juliette preened behind her ears. “Don’t forget I did find the clue about Victor talking to the movie producer.”

“How could we forget?” Poe asked. “But let us consider another reason. What if the murder wasn’t about Madame Zenda at all? What if it was about the guesthouse?”

Nero didn’t like the way that sounded. “What do you mean?”

“The body was found with the buckle and a warning to stay away from the guesthouse. Maybe that’s what the killer really wanted—for people to stay away—and Madame Zenda just happened to be a convenient target.”

“Why would someone want to scare people away from the guesthouse?” Marlowe asked.

Poe shrugged.“Beats me. But if I’m right, then whoever it is has a reason worth killing for.”

Seventeen

The next morning breakfast went off without a hitch. The waffles came out golden brown and the guests slathered them in maple syrup and piled them on their plates. The frittata was cooked to perfection and not dry. I might be getting the hang of this cooking business after all…

I had a little bit of a scare when the cats started meowing in that way they do when something is wrong—like, for example, there’s a dead body on the property—but thankfully everyone was accounted for and near as I could tell no bodies littered the grounds.

I hadn’t forgotten about how the cats had tried to lure me to the attic, but they’d scattered after breakfast, so I decided to clean up while I waited for them to come back. I felt very strongly that wandering around up there by myself would be a waste of time. If the cats really did have something to show me, they’d be back.

Mom and Millie turned up while I was loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. It was a mystery to me as to how they usually ended up walking through the door just as I put the last dish in. They did have impeccable timing. I was too eager to tell them about my research from the night before and how I’d seen Esther sneaking around the property to marvel at how they always managed to get out of cleaning up. Maybe Flora had learned it from them.

“At least we know that Victor and Madame Zenda knew each other, but I suppose that’s no big surprise. Why do you think Esther would be sneaking around?” Millie whispered after I told them about the cruise that Madame Zenda, Esther and Victor were on and how I’d seen Esther outside. “Maybeshe was just out for a walk.”

“Nope. She was definitely sneaking. Skulking along the shrubs and looking behind her,” I said. “Looking for the trea—”

“Shhh!” Mom’s eyes were wide and she was gesturing not so subtly over my shoulder. I turned to see Esther in the doorway.

“Well, I’m just irate!” Esther hadn’t seemed to notice we’d been huddled in a group whispering.

“You are? Why?” I imagined all sorts of reasons she could be mad, ranging from the breakfast making her sick to Flora not cleaning her room properly to stumbling over another dead body. I prayed it wasn’t the latter.

“That banker guy… Marvin somebody—” Esther said.

“Myron Remington,” Mom said.

“Yeah, whoever. Short guy, owns the bank? I heard downtown at the post office that he’s been badgering you.” Esther turned kind eyes on me. She really did seem concerned about me and mad at Myron. Who could blame her? He did have a way about him that made people angry.

Millie didn’t see Esther in the same light as I did, if her narrowed eyes and accusatory tone were any indication. “Just what were you doing at the post office?”

Esther blinked.“Mailing postcards. I always do that when I visit a new town.”

“Oh.” Millie looked disappointed that her question hadn’t tripped up Esther, but I could see that she was assessing her to determine if she was lying about the postcards.

“Anyway, this place is so lovely I hate to think that nasty little man is being so controlling with the money. This magnificent house deserves to be restored.” She lowered her voice. “I heard he was making noises about taking back your loan.”

My heart twisted. Had that rumor been going around town? Esther could have easily heard it at the post office since that’s where most rumors were spread.

“Well, I hope he isn’t serious about that,” I managed to squeak out.

“Me too. This place has great spirit vibes. Intelligent ghosts. Wonderful history.” Esther’s eyes sparkled.

Millie perked up. She always did when someone complimented the guesthouse.“It is a special place. And not just the inside, either. The grounds are lovely.” Millie glanced out the window at the overgrown garden. “Well, the yard needs some work. Have you been out in the grounds at all?”

Esther looked down at her shoes.“Not really. I mean, I was out at Betty Sue’s body and I’ve sat on the porch.”

Maybe Millie was right to be suspicious because that was one whopper of a lie.

“What about the old buildings on the property? Some of them have great history.” I gave her a chance to fess up. Maybe she just hadn’t mentioned it or had forgotten.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t go near any of those old buildings. Nope. Never ventured far from the house. Well, except when we found Betty Sue, of course.” Esther cocked her head to the side as if listening to something in the hall. She seemed nervous. “I think I hear Victor. I better get back there.Wouldn’t want him to get a leg up on talking to Jed’s ghost. Good luck with your renovations.”

Millie’s brows shot up as Esther hurried out of the room. “Well, if that don’t beat all. I say that woman has something to hide.”

“She did seem genuinely concerned about the guesthouse.” I really did think she was sincere about that.

“Probably a ploy to throw us off track,” Mom said.

Meow!

Nero and Marlowe were sitting at the bottom of the back stairs; their unblinking gaze reminded me that I still hadn’t had a chance to get up into the attic.

Millie rushed over to pet them, but apparently they had other things on their minds. They accepted a few quick pets on the head but then started to meow and pace around, putting one foot on the stairs and then glancing at us.

“I think they want to show us something,” I said.

Mom looked at me funny, but Millie didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “It’s about time you started to understand their subtle communications. Hmmm… now let me see. It’s the attic, right?” She addressed her question to Nero, who meowed loudly and started up the stairs.

We followed the cats up the narrow creaky stairs. No wonder I never took these things; the ceiling was low, the walls closed in. It was claustrophobic. I got a little winded by the second floor but Mom and Millie practically ran up and I didn’t want to seem like a wimp, so I pressed on, even though the increase in temperature as we ascended caused sweat to drip down my back.

When we got to the top of the stairs I unlocked the door with the old skeleton key that I’d grabbed from the butler’s pantry, and the door opened with an ominous creak.

I’d only been up in the attic once, when I had looked over the place to buy it, and then I’d only peeked in. Even though I’d spent a lot of time at the guesthouse as a little girl, the attic had held no interest for me and now I could see why. It was dusty and full of cobwebs. Big cobwebs. I looked around for the spiders that lived in them, but they must have all scurried to dark corners.

There must have been a dozen generations’ cast-offs up here. During the negotiations to purchase the place, Millie had vaguely mentioned it came with all sorts of antiques and things I could use for the guesthouse. She’d made it sound like a bonus, but I’d been skeptical. Turns out I was right, the place was crammed full of things that needed some sort of repair and a good clean.

Nero and Marlowe led us on a path between old pieces of furniture, lamps and boxes. They trotted straight to the oldest part of the house. I sneezed a dozen times as our footsteps kicked up dust from the thick layer that was on the floor. It was so thick that the cats’ paws had made little prints in it as they’d walked ahead. I could see they’d been here a couple of times judging by the number of paw prints.

Up ahead, the cats were perched on an ancient trunk, their eyes tracking us as we approached.

“This is all the old stuff that was here when I was a little girl.” Millie looked around at the piled-up junk. This section did appear to have items that were much older… and much more deteriorated.

“The trunk looks ancient.” The cats hopped off as I approached. They stood at my feet, looking up at me as if encouraging me to open it. If I had any doubts before that the cats were trying to communicate, I didn’t now.

“That’s a steamer trunk,” Mom said. “For going on ships. Very old.”

“It must have belonged to Jedediah Biddeford!” Millie lifted the top. It creaked and groaned as she pulled it up gently.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mom said as she peered in.

“The old buckle.” Millie reached in and started pushing the items aside. The smell of mildew wafted up and I sneezed again.

The trunk contained old clothing and personal items. Mom gingerly held up the shoulders of a disintegrating tweed suit.“This looks like the suit Jed was wearing in that drawing. You know, the one in the Oyster Cove history book.”

Millie glanced at the suit.“It sure does. And if that’s in here, maybe those shoes are in here. And if the shoes are in here… are the buckles with them or is one missing?”

We carefully moved the items aside. No shoes.

“No shoes. No buckles.” Millie looked excited. “Do you think this is where the killer got the buckle from?”

“Who had been up here?” Mom asked.

“Ed said he heard someone and thought it was Anita Pendragon.” I glanced around at the dusty attic floor. “But…”

“Any of the guests could have snuck up here, though,” Millie said.

“Wait, something isn’t right.” I swiped my finger through the thick layer of dust on an oak table that sat beside the trunk. “The floor was covered in dust when we came up. The only thing disturbing the path to this trunk was the cats’ paw prints. I remember looking at them.”

We all looked back toward the path, which of course was now marred with our own footprints.“There’s another path from the corner there.” Millie pointed to a row of furniture and boxes, which had been pushed aside to form a narrow path, but it had a layer of undisturbed dust. “Hmmm, no footprints there. So how would someone have gotten to the trunk?”

“They couldn’t. Not unless they hopped across the furniture,” I said.

“Or floated over like a ghost.” Mom glanced around the room as if expecting one.

“There is no ghost.” Millie closed the trunk. “The shoes and buckle were probably never in here. We don’t know for sure that the buckle on Madame Zenda was actually Jed’s. I’m sure there are other old buckles that look like his. Now let’s get a move on, we have suspects to scrutinize.This buckle angle is a dead end.”

Meow!Nero hopped up on the trunk and cast an accusatory glare at Millie.

Meroo!Marlowe weaved on the path in front of us.

“I know you guys mean well.” Millie picked up steam as we neared the attic door. “But I’m not sure what you wanted to tell us. We already know this is all about the psychics pretending they are talking to Jed. Is that what you were trying to tell us?”

Meoooo.

Meope.

Millie ignored the cats’ meows as we funneled out onto the second-floor landing. Flora was there, dusting a bench that sat underneath the window. She gave our dusty clothes a look of disapproval and then tried to dust Mom off with her feather duster.

“What have you people been doing up in the attic? It’s dirty up there and I have enough work as it is,” Flora said.

“We were just looking for something.” Millie pushed the duster away as Flora turned it on her.

“Well, I hope you don’t expect me to clean up there. I don’t do attics. Hard enough to keep the regular house clean. And I hope you don’t expect me to be cleaning the outbuildings either,” Flora huffed.

“Outbuildings?” I asked.

Flora nodded.“And don’t you listen to any of those crazy guests either. I keep the bathrooms clean as a whistle. I don’t know why that crystal ball lady thinks she needed to resort to using the outhouse.”

“Esther? You saw her in the outhouse?” Mom raised her brows at me. “Is that where you saw her, Josie?”

“No, I saw her near the barn. That’s pretty far away.” I turned to Flora. “Are you sure you saw her in there?”

“Do you think I’m blind?” Flora pushed the thick glasses up on her nose. “Just because I wear these doesn’t mean I can’t see. Like right now, I can see Myron Remington as plain as day.”

We all swiveled to look out the window. Flora was right. Myron was standing by the side of an old shed. He was looking around as if assessing the grounds. My gut clenched. Why would he be doing that? It was almost as if he were scoping out the place, trying to figure out what he would do with the property when he seized it for non-payment of the loan. I could just imagine visions of condos or a strip mall dancing through his head.

Mom, Millie and I clustered around the small window, watching as he looked out toward the ocean, then back at the shed. We jumped back when his gaze drifted to the house.

“What is he doing out there?” Mom asked.

“Looks like he’s checking out the grounds. Maybe he thinks you need to get the landscaping done, Josie,” Millie said.

“Maybe.” I hoped that was all it was, but the way he was looking around I didn’t think so.

“Well, I don’t like him showing up here all the time. I mean, it’s not like he bought the place, he just gave you a loan. I have a good mind to run down there and tell him so.”

Millie started toward the door, but I put my hand on her arm to hold her back.

“Maybe it’s better if we just let him go about his business. This will all blow over after the killer is caught and these guests figure out they can’t talk to Jed.” I hoped.

Millie sighed.“Fine. I suppose you’re right. All the more reason for us to figure out who the killer is before Myron comes up with a reason to renege on the loan.”

“Don’t let him get mud in here.” Flora’s glasses reflected light from the window as she turned to me. “I just spent a good hour cleaning up the mud one of them traipsed in. It’s enough cleaning up after the guests, but you need to do something about keeping the whole town from traipsingin!”

The whole town?“I’m sorry about that, but Myron did give me a loan and I want to stay on his good side.”

“Yeah him too, but he’s not the one who traipsed mud in the back entry. That was a mess to clean up,” Flora said.

“Well then who did?” Millie asked.

“Anita Pendragon. You ask me, that nosey reporter is up to something.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Marlowe rolled her eyes at the backs of Josie, Rose and Millie as they exited the attic.“I guess they didn’t get our drift.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Nero said. “Josie did understand we wanted her up here. They just didn’t get the part about the shoes being missing.”

Marlowe sighed.“I suppose we can’t expect too much. They don’t have our superior skills of deduction so wouldn’t know the shoes had been there.”

“To be fair, we did have Jed to tell us that. I’m not sure we would have figured that out on our own, either.” Nero secretly enjoyed putting Marlowe in her place sometimes, but fair was fair.He might have been able to sniff out the fact that the shoes had once been in there, but he was sure Marlowe wouldn’t have. But without Jed to lead them up here and tell them about the shoes, he was certain that he wouldn’t have even thought of it.

“I don’t know about that Josie. She seems a little dense.” Jed tapped the side of his head. “Doesn’t catch on fast and she didn’t even lock the door when they left. Not like my girl, Esther. Now that one’s a keeper. Much nicer than that shrew I married.”

Jed’s face got all pinched, apparently with memories of his dead wife. Was he wondering if the shrew had killed him? If she had, could Nero prove that somehow? He glanced around at the stacks of boxes and papers. Maybe the murder weapon was in one of these boxes and he could sniff it out. Or there might be an article in one of the papers showing Helena Biddeford unusually happy after her husband’s death.

“It’s still a bust. As Josie said, there were no footprints going to the trunk, so who could have taken the shoes?” Marlowe’s words dragged Nero back to the present. They had a more important murder to solve right now. Jed’s murder could wait.

“Maybe they were clever enough not to leave footprints.” Nero studied the furniture in the attic. Someonecouldhave traversed a path to the trunk without leaving footprints, he supposed.

“The guests hereare a sneaky bunch. I think we have a bit more investigating to do. The buckle is a dead end.” Marlowe fluffed her tail. “Get it?Dead end.”

“But how would they do that? Levitate?” Nero had heard of things like levitation and astral projection and he’d seen Victor meditating, but his butt had always been planted firmly on the chair.

“Guess we need to find that out,” Marlowe said.

Jed had swirled over to the window and was dripping ectoplasm on the floor.“I saw that mean banker skulking around out there. I don’t much like him. He worries Josie and I don’t want her to worry. Maybe I should haunt him.”

“Not a bad idea.” Nero smiled at the thought of Myron being haunted, especially since Myron seemed to be getting worked up about all the ghost talk.

Jed tapped his fingers on his lips.“I think I have an idea that can help out Josie, and my beautiful Esther, plus give Myron the shaft.”

Nero perked up.“I like that idea. Will it help find the killer?”

“Whose? Mine or that tarot reader’s?”

“Either.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not really all that keen on finding my killer anymore. Since I’ve been communicating with Esther my feelings about moving on to the afterlife have changed.” Jed got all dreamy looking and his normally white ghostly image turned pink.

“Yech,” Marlowe said.

Nero agreed, but at least Jed wasn’t fixated on Josie anymore. If he attached himself to Esther and wanted to stay on the earthly plane, then he’d be leaving when Esther did and that was just fine with Nero.

“So, what are you going to do that will help Josie and Esther and annoy Myron?” Marlowe asked.

“Not sure exactly yet. I’m working on a plan, though,” Jed said.

“Speaking of annoying Myron and working on a plan, we need to do both.” Nero hopped down from the old Eastlake bureau he’d been sitting on so he could look out the window. “I say we start with annoying Myron. He hates getting cat hair on his nice slacks. Let’s go find him before he leavesand rub up against the bottom of his pants.”

Eighteen

Mom and Millie headed off to the police station to try to wheedle some more information out of Seth Chamberlain. I stayed behind to catch up on household chores. I kept an eye out the window for Anita Pendragon. She was up to something and I wanted to catch her in the act. It took a few hours, but luck was with me. I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes when I saw her peeking out from behind a lilac bush. I hurried out to catch her at whatever it was she was up to.

I picked my way along the side of the house, my back pressed to the paint-peeling clapboards as I used the house for cover. I was at the back of the building and hadn’t gotten around to scraping and painting the exterior here yet since it wasn’t visible to the guests.

I came to the corner and quickly darted over, taking refuge behind a giant rhododendron. Peering out from behind the glossy leaves, I watched Anita as the floral smell of summer flowers wafted over. Out here in back of the house only the hum of buzzing bees broke the silence.

Anita appeared to be scoping out the grounds. What on earth was she doing? I had news for her too, her lime-green-and-turquoise shirt did little to camouflage her behind the dark green shrub.

I snuck up behind her very quietly and when I was within two feet I said,“Aha!”

Anita whirled around dropping her navy-blue tote bag as her hands flew to her heart. Once she recognized me her eyes narrowed to slits.“Josie… Waters… what in the world are you doing… scaring me like that!”

The nerve of her yelling at me!“What are you doing lurking in my bushes?”

Anita recovered from her scare. Now she looked angry instead of startled. Smoothing down the bottom of her shirt, she said,“It’s a free country.”

“Not quite, this is private property.”

“Okay, fine. I’m here doing investigatory journalism. There was a murder here, you know. And a ghost is running about. The people have a right to know.”

“Why does that necessitate lurking around in my yard?”

She leaned toward me, lowering her voice.“Your guests aren’t the most innocent of people. They’re suspects, you know. And besides, they get up to some strange things. Seances in outhouses and convening with spirits in gazebos.”

I had seen some of the guests skulking around in the yard, but seances and spirit communications?“Are you sure they’ve been doing that?”

“I’m not sure what they’re up to, but whatever it is, I’m getting the scoop.” Anita crossed her arms over her chest and adopted a bit of attitude. “You might thank me for that. It’s down to my investigating out here that I found Madame Zenda’s body. If I hadn’t come by, there’s no telling how long she would have been moldering out there.”

Found her there orput her there? I didn’t want to rile Anita up any more than she already was so I kept silent, scowling at her with my hand on my hips. I figured I’d let her talk and maybe she’d incriminate herself.

My silence must have unnerved her. She looked away.“Mark my words, someone in this guesthouse is up to something.”

“Yeah and I think it’syou.”

Anita jerked back.“Me? What are you talking about? I’m just reporting what people need to know and if it happens to be a good story that sells, well then, what’s wrong with that?” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t see why you’re so upset about it. Unless you have something to hide, like the fact that you’re a killer.”

Now it was my turn to get upset.“Why would I kill Madame Zenda?”

“It would make for good publicity. Come to think of it, you’ve had a couple of murders here. And didn’t the discovery of the skeleton bring you the guests you have now? This would make a good story. The black-widow guesthouse owner who kills her guests.”

“Now wait just a minute, I didn’t kill anyone! I helped catch the first two killers and now I’m going to catch this one. Which brings me to my question: Why did you break into the guesthouse?”

“Break in? What are you talking about?” She looked away. “I’ve never been in there.”

Now I knew she was lying. Could she really be the killer? And if so, maybe it was dangerous to confront her like this. But my brain must have been a few seconds behind my mouth because the words came out before I stopped to think about the safest course of action.“Ed saw you peeking in the window and said you might have been in the house, and Flora said you tracked mud into the back foyer. Now, why would you lie about that if you weren’t the killer?” I got my cell phone out of my pocket. “I’m calling Sheriff Chamberlain.”

“No wait!” She shifted on her feet, her eyes darting from the house to me. “Okay. Fine. Iwas in the guesthouse but not because I’m the killer. As I’ve told you, I’m working on a story. There might be a movie deal and… well… I needed an insider so I could get a scoop on what was really going on.”

“Madame Zenda?”

“Yeah, at first. She was my contact.”

That explained the open windows.

“That’s why I was the one who found her. She was going to talk to Jedediah Biddeford that night.” Anita chewed her bottom lip. “Though to tell the truth, I think she might have been a fraud. Anyway, she wouldn’t tell me exactly where and I was trying to figure that out so I could see the communication, but instead I saw her body. She was dead when I got there.”

“And you didn’t see the killer leaving or hear anything?” I was dubious.

She shook her head.“I wish. That would have made a great headline. ‘Reporter Captures Killer.’ But I didn’t see a thing. Of course, I was a bit freaked out, what with her lying there. I didn’t kill her though. Why would I? She was my contact.”

Anita’s explanation made sense and, given that she was calmly discussing this instead of trying to kill me, my feeling that she was the killer was waning. But Flora had said she’d been in the houseafterMadame Zenda was killed. If Zenda was her contact, then what was she doing in there? Hiding evidence?

“Then why were you in the guesthouse after she was killed?”

Anita sighed.“Fine. I’ll tell you. I was meeting Victor Merino.”

My left brow quirked up.“Why?”

“I’ve sort of teamed up with him for the story. There’s a lot riding on it.”

“So, let me get this straight. You were teamed up with Madame Zenda and then, after she died, you teamed up with Victor. How? Did you already know him?” What if Victor had killed Madame Zenda because he wanted the fame and knew that Anita could help him get it?

She shook her head.“I didn’t know him. He saw me talking to that movie producer downtown and asked me all sorts of questions. I guess he already knew about the movie. Anyway, he suggested we combine forces.”

“Combine forces? How?”

“He was going to feed me information. That’s why I met him in the foyer the other day and why I’m here now. He said something is about to happen.” Anita glanced out over the yard. “But I’m not so sure I believe him.”

“Did he saywhat was going to happen?” I didn’t like the ominous way that sounded, but then Victor did seem to be overly dramatic. “I think sometimes he exaggerates.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m out here to follow him, just in case.”

I peered into the dense overgrowth of the yard.“He’s out here?”

“No. The only one I’ve seen is that weird tea-leaf reader.”

“Gail? Why do you say she’s weird?” I thought she was weird too, but wanted to know Anita’s reasons.

“No background.” At my curious look Anita stood straighter. “I’ve done background checks on all these people. They’re all mediums who have businesses and a history. All except Gail. Not even a classified ad back in her paper in Ohio. And the other day when I was talking to the movie producer and ran into Victor, guess who I saw watching us?”

“Gail?”

“Yep.”

I’d seen Gail watching Victor too. At least that’s what I thought she’d been doing when I’d run into her looking for tea in the pantry. But why watch Victor? If she’d seen him with the movie producer, then she knew about the potential movie. Was she trying to steal the limelight from Victor somehow? But why not just claim she could talk to Jed herself? If she did that, then the attention would be on her. Instead, she was hiding and following people.

“What do you think she’s up to?” I asked.

“Beats me.” Anita bent down to pick up the tote bag she’d dropped when I’d startled her. The bag spilled over and a copy of the early etching of the guesthouse with Jed Biddeford and family tumbled out.

My eyes went right to the buckle on his shoes. Anita knew about the buckle. My eyes flicked to hers, a shiver running through me. I grabbed the paper, noticing another one behind it. This other one was of Jedediah Biddeford signing something. He had a fancy carved-ivory quill pen in his hand. Why did she have these drawings of Jed? Was she scoping out Jed’s belongings? Maybe planning to leave another piece of memorabilia on her next body?

“Aha! You have a photograph of the drawing of Jed’s buckle!” I pointed to the shoe in the photo.

Anita tried to snatch the papers away, but I pulled them out of her hands. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.“Of course I have images of Jed. Like I just told you, I do my research. I looked up all kinds of things about the family.”

“Why would you need to do that? Seems like a lot of work,” I said.

“Not really. They have all this stuff down at the bank. There’s a whole display of Remington memorabilia and since the Biddefords were big in town back then, there’s a lot of images of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse and Jedediah Biddeford too.”

I usually did my banking online but now I remembered the display down at the bank. It was off to one side and included all kinds of things like the bank’s first coin, etchings of the original bank—an old shack complete with iron bars—various old desk implements, pens, bank notes and so on.

“Do they have personal items there?” I was thinking about the shoes.

Anita grabbed for the papers again and this time I let her take them. They crinkled as she shoved them in her tote bag.“Personal items? I’m not sure. I mean, they have an old inkwell and a desk blotter that they first used in the bank. It’s kind of like a mini museum.”

It was probably a long shot, but what if the killer got the buckle from the bank? Some of it was locked up, some of it was out in the open. If the shoes with the buckle had been there, would the killer have been able to swipe it without anyone noticing? This didn’t let Anita off the hook, she’d been there and knew what was in the collection. Would she be dumb enough to admit that to me now, though? Probably not.

Suddenly I had the urge to make a deposit at the bank. I wanted to see exactly what was in that display… or, more importantly, to see if anything was missing.

Nineteen

I rushed in the back door and down the hallway on the way to my car, which was parked out front. I didn’t make it to the door though because a heated argument was brewing in the parlor.

“I call foul on that! If you talked to Jedediah Biddeford, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.” Esther’s voice reached me in the hallway and I looked into the parlor to see her looking down at Victor, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“I’m telling you the truth!” Victor was wearing a gray velour jogging suit. He patted his mustache and looked up at Esther innocently. “Jed will talk to me tonight. We’ll find the treasure and he will give me a unique clue to solve his murder.”

“Ha! That’s how I know you’re lying.” Esther leaned down toward Victor. “There is no treasure.”

“How do you know that?” Victor fixed her with a shrewd gaze.

Esther frowned.“I… Umm… Well, after all these years it’s doubtful. And I read that there was a big treasure hunt here a few weeks ago. Nothing was found.”

“We’ll see about that.” Victor shifted in his chair, noticing me in the doorway. “Your guesthouse will be famous. Especially when they make the movie.”

“Movie?” Gail, who was on the sofa and had been gazing into a dainty floral teacup looked up at him. “What movie?”

“Yeah, what movie?” Esther echoed.

Victor made a face at Esther.“Don’t give me that. I saw you in town. You know that there is a movie producer sniffing around the story of Jedediah Biddeford’s skeleton. And he is well aware that I am the only real psychic here.”

“Madame Zenda claimed that she was going to talk to Jed’s ghost too and look what happened to her,” Gail said.

Something flickered across Victor’s face. Guilt over killing Madame Zenda or fear that the same thing would happen to him?

Esther spun on her heel and went to sit in front of her crystal ball. It was on the table next to the window and the sunlight filtering in made the ball glow with an eerie light. She passed her hands over it and closed her eyes.“I don’t think Jed would like having his story sensationalized in a movie and I doubt he has any good clues as to who his killer is. And good luck with that treasure!”

Victor waved a hand at her.“We’ll see tonight. I think I will pick an interesting setting. Like maybe the old family graveyard or that spooky gazebo. It’s important to set the ambiance, you know how movie people are all about that sort of thing.”

Esther glared at him. Gail went back to gazing at her teacup. I turned and left to go to the bank.

I didn’t know whether or not Victor was really going to talk to Jed, but he was right about one thing.Something was going to happen tonight. I hoped there would be a clue to this whole thing at the bank.

Because if Victor was the killer, I had no intention of letting him get a movie deal with his fake communication with Jed. And if he wasn’t the killer… then I was afraid he might be the next victim.

It was late afternoon when I got to the bank. The free cookies at the teller window reminded me that I had to start thinking about tomorrow’s breakfast. Millie would have a fit if I didn’t have something in mind. I grabbed a cookie—chocolate chip—and headed toward the back of the bank where the display was located.

The area wasn’t large, just a case built in to the wall and a roped-off area where an old oak rolltop desk sat. On top of the desk was a brass lamp with a green shade, an inkwell and an old silver pen atop a desk blotter. An antique brass-and-black-enamel sign for the teller window sat off to one side, along with the old-fashioned window complete with iron bars and frosted glass.

The locked case had interesting old coins, many of which weren’t even used for currency today. Myron sold old silver dollars and other old and rare coins at the bank, but the ones in the case were much older.

The wall beside the case had a pictorial display of town history. The etching of Jed that Anita had was there, along with other drawings and old grainy photos of the bank along with the changes to the building over the centuries. On the end was a copy of the old etching of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse highlighting the connection between the Remingtons and the Biddefords and Thomas Remington’s humble beginnings as Jed’s butler. I turned away, depressed. There were no old clothes. Maybe another cookie would perk me up.

But before I could make another trip past the plate of cookies, Myron stepped in my path. Perfect, as if the trip wasn’t a downer before, now I had to deal with him.

“Josie, what brings you here? Your loan payment isn’t due until the thirtieth.” Myron smiled at me, but I could tell it was fake.

“I know. I was just… um… checking my balance.” I certainly didn’t want him to know about my suspicions. He was already acting strangely enough as it was, no need to remind him of the unsavory happenings at the guesthouse.

Myron’s brows tugged together. “Don’t you do that online?”

“Sometimes. Hey, speaking of wondering why someone is at a certain place, why were you at the guesthouse earlier today?”

Myron looked taken aback.“What are you talking about? I didn’t see you at the guesthouse earlier.”

“You were out on the grounds. Near the barn and overgrown gardens.”

Myron glanced around the lobby, probably making sure no one overheard the awkward conversation. He was all about keeping up appearances, which was probably the reason why he was so bothered by the ghost business at the guesthouse. And the murders… though I suppose anyone would be bothered by that.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Myron said.

I looked down to see cat hair on the cuffs of his pants. There were little black ones mixed with brown and white. Nero and Marlowe? Usually Myron was very fastidious about his appearance, so if the cats had rubbed against him when he’d been there earlier, surely he would have cleaned the hairs off by now. The cats couldn’t possibly be in the bank, could they?

“Speaking of the grounds.” Myron lowered his voice. “I spoke with Mike Sullivan about the gazebo and you’ll have to watch out that people don’t go out to that ramshackle thing before it’s fixed properly. Wouldn’t want a lawsuit. That would be grounds to terminate the loan. I may have to inspect that thing myself when Mike takes a look at it later.”

Ed would start work on the gazebo shortly and I vaguely remembered Mike saying something about coming out to inspect the gazebo for the permit. Had Mike said something about it to Myron? I was skeptical, as I was pretty sure that if something was wrong, Mike would have mentioned it to me first. I didn’t think guests were in the habit of going to the gazebo anyway, but even so, Myron was probably making something out of nothing. Which made me wonder if that was why he’d been out there earlier in the first place. Was he looking for a reason to call in the loan?

I was about to ask when Rita Fortin came into the lobby. She was from a wealthy family and liked to flaunt it with designer outfits and purses that cost as much as a compact car. Today was no exception. She scanned the lobby from behind overly large sunglasses, her gaze stopping when it fell on Myron. Always one to follow the money, Myron immediately hurried over to suck up to her without so much as a goodbye to me.

It was just as well, what I had been about to say to him wasn’t very nice. Better to have some time to cool off before I got Myron riled up. After all, he did hold my future in his hands.

As Myron ushered Rita into his office, Belinda May, one of the tellers, started toward me, shooting looks over her shoulder at Myron to make sure he didn’t notice.

“Hey, Josie, I have this for one of your guests. I was wondering if you could take it back for them. I was supposed to meet them later today, but my grandmother is ill and I can’t.” She held a plain A4 manila envelope out to me.

“You want me to give this to Victor?” I mean, I assumed it was him since he was the one with an agenda. The envelope had no name on it.

“No. Esther. That nice crystal-ball lady.”

“She was here?” I looked back at the display area then down at the envelope, remembering how upset Esther had been at Victor’s pronouncement.

Belinda glanced around as if to make sure no one could overhear.“She was looking at the memorabilia area, then she gave me a lovely reading with her crystal ball. Of course, Myron wasn’t here then. I do hope her readings are true. She said a silver-haired fox would sweep me off my feet.”

“She did, did she?” I shook the envelope. Nothing rattled. “So, what’s in the envelope?”

“Oh, just some information about the bank’s history.”

“Why would she want that?” I felt along the envelope, expecting to feel the bulk of a buckle or button or something, but it was flat. Just paper.

Belinda shrugged.“I guess she found it interesting. Don’t worry, it’s nothing confidential. I mean, I’m sure it’s okay to give out, but you know how Myron can be… speaking of that, I need to get back to my station.”

She rushed off, leaving me staring at the envelope. I was dying to know what was in it and why Esther would want information on the bank’s history, but it was sealed. Did I dare open it? I wasn’t sure I wanted to tip off Esther to the fact that I’d seen the contents. Which left me wondering… what in the world was Esther up to?

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Nero sniffed the contents of the Styrofoam container that Harry had pilfered from the dumpster of the Marinara Mariner. Red sauce, linguini… ahhh… there was a morsel of succulent shrimp. Nero gobbled it up and then licked his paws, washing his white tuxedo to remove any evidence of sauce.

“No squid-ink dish today.” Juliette hopped down from the rim of the dumpster and eyed the container in front of Nero. “The only thing in here is common food, unfortunately.”

“Indeed.” Boots sniffed the air with disdain.

Nero had to admit, it was smelly here in the alley beside the restaurant. But sometimes Tony left good scraps for them and it was worth a try. Besides, they had an ulterior motive to meet there, it was across from the bank and they’d been watching Myron ever since Marlowe and Nero had seen him at the guesthouse.

“Myron hasn’t left the bank since we started the stakeout.” Stubbs’ voice wafted up from the dumpster. “Speaking of which, I wish Tony had put some steak out.”

“What’s going on with the police?” Nero asked Harry.

“According to Louie, Millie and Rose came to the station and tried to get information out of Seth but he clammed up,” Harry said.

“Clam sauce? Don’t think so. I don’t smell any in here!” Stubbs yelled from the dumpster.

Harry gave the dumpster the side-eye.“Would you come out of there, there’s nothing good inside.”

“Fine.” Stubbs appeared on the rim, then jumped down shaking the dumpster debris off his orange coat.

“So, as I was saying,” Harry continued, “Seth didn’t tell much to Rose and Millie, but Louie said that they are narrowing things down to one suspect.”

“Who?” Juliette asked.

“He didn’t know. They are being very hush-hush.”

“I bet it’s that guy with the mustache.” Boots glanced over at the bank. “He was in the bank earlier.”

“You mean the man with the soft suits who is staying at the guesthouse? The one who came to the rectory?” Juliette asked.

Boots nodded.

“Victor,” Nero said. “Did he do anything suspicious?”

“He came out of the bank with a burlap bag. He was glancing all around and then hopped into an Uber.”

“What was in the bag?” Marlowe asked.

“How big was it?” Stubbs added.

“No idea what was in it,” Boots said. “It was about the size of an old bag of marbles and looked like it had something of heft and weight in it.”

“Why would Victor want marbles?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t say itwas marbles.” Boots narrowed his eyes and looked toward the bank as if trying to visualize Victor and the burlap bag. “Just looked like something heavy.”

“Huh, well that bears investigating.” Nero looked at Marlowe. “Perhaps we should head back to the guesthouse and see what our velour-wearing guest is up to.”

“You might want to hurry.” Juliette swished her tail ominously. “That movie producer came to visit Father Tim again and he’s leaving town tomorrow. If the reason for the murder was to gain fame with a movie, whoever is behind it might be trying to step up their game.”

Twenty

I found Esther in the front parlor. Good thing she was alone, maybe I could get her to tell me what the contents of the envelope were. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a good thing to be alone with her if she was the killer.

Nero and Marlowe were sitting on her lap. As I got closer, I could see she was feeding them some kind of treat. They didn’t seem bothered at all that she might be a killer, I could hear their purrs out in the hallway. Those furry little traitors would go to anyone for treats, yet when I put their dishes down with their nutritious cat food in it, they circled, sniffed and looked at me suspiciously as if I was tryingto poison them.

Esther and the cats looked up as I approached. I gave Nero and Marlowe the stink-eye but they both just blinked at me with blank expressions.

I thrust the envelope out at her.“Just what is this?”

Meow.Nero sniffed the envelope and then squinted at me.

“You tell me.” She took the envelope cautiously. Playing dumb, was she? “Where did you get this?”

I fisted my hands on my hips.“Belinda at the bank gave it to me.”

Marlowe hopped on the table and stretched out to head-butt my hand. I relaxed and petted her soft head. At least there was one cat who knew which side to be on. Nero remained in Esther’s lap.

“Oh…” Esther put the envelope aside. “That Belinda sure is nice. This is just some research I had her do for me.”

“Research? On what?”

She glanced at the crystal ball and it sparked, attracting the cats’ attention. They batted it gently with their paws.

“You’ll have to wait and see about that. I can tell you one thing, that Victor isn’t going to get away with stealing the show this time.”

I didn’t know what to make of this. Esther was acting more like a kindly old lady than a killer, but maybe she was good at pretending. I was mulling over how to approach my interrogation when the sound of tires on the driveway caught my attention.

Mom and Millie were pulling to a stop and right behind them was Mike and then behind him was Myron.

Ughh. What was Myron doing here? It wasn’t even an hour ago that he’d been schmoozing with Rita Fortin at the bank. Maybe he was coming to scope out a location for the pool for the condos he’d build once he foreclosed on the loan? I know he’d said he was going to have Mike show him the gazebo at some point, but this soon? I wondered if he had ulterior motives. At least now I’d have backup if Esther tried anything. Though she didn’t seem like she was going to attack. She was simply sitting calmly in her chair, the cats back in her lap as if she had nothing to hide.

I stepped out into the foyer as Mom and Millie came through the door. Flora was dusting the Tiffany glass lamp on the round mahogany table, apparently oblivious to our new arrivals.

“Oh, Josie, there you are. We just came from the sheriff’s office,” Millie said, glancing behind her as Mike and then Myron piled into the foyer.

“And?” I asked.

Millie looked deflated.“Nothing new on the case, but we ran into Mike there. He was coming here anyway so he followed us.”

Mike smiled.“Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hi. What brings you here?” Mike and Myron were starting to frequent the guesthouse as much as Millie and Mom did.

He held up the clipboard that was in his hand and tapped it with a pencil.“Permit for the gazebo, remember?”

I glanced at Myron at the mention of the gazebo. Mike had issued the permit so that was a good thing, right?

“I came because of the gazebo, too,” Myron said.

Mike frowned at him.“I hardly think that’s necessary. I wasn’t talking about much of anything, anyway. Ed can move forward with the work.” He raised a brow at me and handed me the permit.

Millie leveled a look at Myron.“Now, Myron, don’t you think you are getting a little too involved in the business here? Why, barely a day passes when you don’t stop by.”

Myron looked affronted.“Well, itis my investment.”

Mom clacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.“Myron, look here. I know you have a crush on Josie but really your excuses to come here are growing quite thin.”

“And of no use,” Esther piped in from the parlor. “Remember, the ball showed tall, dark and handsome.” She shot me a knowing glance before casting an approving look in Mike’s direction.

Myron straightened the cuffs of his expensive gray suit.“As charming as Josie is, she isnot the reason I come here. She’s a client, nothing more. It’s just that the bank wants to foster community ties. And with the Oyster Cove Guesthouse being such an important part of Oyster Cove history, I feel I have a duty to see it restored back to its former glory.” He leaned in and lowered his voice, although why he felt like he had to do that was beyond me, it wasn’t like there was anyone else in the foyer. “It’s good for business if the customers know that you have pride in your own community.”

“If you’ve come for the show, you’re all too early. That won’t be until ten p.m.” Victor strode down the hall. This time he was wearing a white golf shirt and tan khaki pants. I had to do a double take as I’d never seen him in anything but his velour jogging suits. “It seems ghosts like to operate under the cover of darkness.”

“Show?” Mike shot me a quizzical look.

Esther pushed up from the table, dislodging the cats who thudded to the floor.“Mr. Big Shot thinks that he’s going to talk to Jedediah Biddeford, but I have it on good authority that Jed won’t be speaking to him. And there is no treasure. Jed doesn’t need anyone making a mockery of him. But if his killer can be found, then I will be the one to do that, not Victor.”

“We’ll see about that.” Victor puffed up, his tone imbued with the utmost confidence. “I think the discovery of the treasure might make me famous.”

Millie huffed.“Good luck with that. The previous guests dug up the yard looking, along with half the town. Besides, there is no ghost.”

Thud!

We whirled around to see a Staffordshire figurine of a shepherdess with a baby lamb had fallen off the table. Lucky thing it had landed on the red-and-navy oriental carpet or it would have been in pieces. The cats were circling it sniffing and looking up at the table.

“That’s odd.” Millie picked it up and inspected it for damage. “I wonder how that—”

“WOOOOHOOOOAAAANNN…”

The eerie sound drifted through the air, freezing us all in our tracks. Even the cats seemed startled, cocking their heads to one side as if to try to determine what the strange noise was.

“OOOOHGAAAAAAAHHHH…”

“What the heck is that?” Mike asked.

“Is it the pipes?” I ventured, because what else could be making that ungodly noise?

“Sorry, Sunshine, that’s not the sound of any pipes I’ve ever heard.”

We were all silent, waiting to hear more, but not a sound came. I thought I could hear Myron whimpering behind Mom and Millie.

“You don’t think it really could be a ghost?” Mom asked.

Flora, who had been dusting the top of the newel post, turned around, holding the duster feather side up.“If you’ve got a ghost, I hope you don’t expect me to clean up after it. I don’t do ectoplasmic goo. That stuff is hard to get out of linens.”

“Don’t be silly. There must be a reasonable explanation…” Millie glanced up at the ceiling as if expecting to see a ghost floating around up there.

Esther crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Victor.“Maybe it’s Jed. Perhaps he’d like to speak to you now. Go ahead, talk to him. Enlighten us as to what he wants.”

“Uhh… that wasn’t the plan. I’m sure it’s not Jed.” Victor sounded nervous.

“You mean there might be two ghosts?” Mom asked. Surely she was joking. She didn’t really believe there was a ghost in the Oyster Cove Guesthouse, let alone two of them?

Myron peeked out from behind Mom and Millie. His eyes were as big as the old silver dollars he sold for a premium down at the bank, his shoulders were rounded and his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he were trying to become even smaller than he already was. He was probably hoping the ghost wouldn’t notice him and pick on one of us instead.

“A real ghost…” he managed to utter as he glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Hmmm, look at the time. Guess I can’t go look at the gazebo after all. Gotta run!”

We all watched as he dashed out the door.

Ghost or not, Myron was spooked. This did not bode well for the guesthouse at all.

Twenty-One

Nero eyed Jed.“Really, don’t you think the ghostly moans are a bit much?”

“I beg your pardon.” Jed swirled indignantly. “That wasn’t me. You think I’d stoop to those sorts of theatrics, do you? No self-respecting ghost would make noises like that.”

“You did push the figurine off. I saw you,” Marlowe said.

Jed crossed his arms over his chest.“That’s because that pompous bore Victor was arguing with my Esther.”

“Your Esther?” Maybe Jed was getting a little too attached to Esther. “Well, I don’t want to presume, but we have had some lovely conversations through her crystal ball. I think she really cares for me.” Jed got all moony-eyed and Nero tried to steer the conversation in a more productive direction.

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“Probably that fraud Victor trying to sensationalize things for that producer. He was out by the gazebo earlier.” Jed’s expression turned pensive. “Is that where the sound came from? Maybe he was hiding something out there that could produce sound? I know you have all sorts of devices in this day and age and I’ve heard sound come out of that small box Josie always seems to have in her hand.”

“Her phone?” Nero asked.

“If that’s what you call it,” Jed said. “Anyway, wouldn’t be hard to have something make those sounds. Someone should tell the person that ghosts don’t actually sound like that, though.”

“So it’s not another ghost?” Marlowe sounded relieved.

“Of course not. If another ghost were here, I’d know,” Jed said.

“What about your wife?” Nero asked. He hadn’t fully dismissed the idea that she might have come here for some sort of revenge on Jed, but it didn’t really add up. Why would she wait all this time and why try to frame him for killing Madame Zenda? He was already dead so nothing would happen to him. No, it was more likely the culprit was of the human form.

“My wife?” Jed ducked behind a chair. “You haven’t seen her here, have you? I don’t want to run into her.”

“Haven’t seen her,” Nero said. “Thought maybe you could sense her.”

“Thankfully not. That woman might have done me in. Though I think we’ll find out about that soon.”

“We will?” Marlowe asked.

Jed looked uncertain.“Maybe. Then again, maybe I don’t want to know who killed me. I might just want to stick around on this plane.” Jed sent a lovesick glance at Esther who was walking back to the table with her crystal ball. The group of humans were splitting up. Victor was heading upstairs to his room and Rose, Millie, Josie and Mike looked to be heading to the kitchen. It appeared as if everyone in the house was going about their business, despite the ghostly sounds. Wait… not everyone. Someone was missing.

“Where is Gail Weathers?” Nero asked.

“The tea-leaf lady?” Marlowe glanced around. “Don’t know. She wasn’t here when we heard the sounds.”

Nero looked at Jed.“You haven’t seen her around the place in your ghostly travels, have you?”

Jed shook his head.“Nope. Been busy watching over Esther. She’s getting my communication nicely now and let’s just say she might scratch my back if I’ll scratch hers.”

“Ohh, that sounds lovely.” Marlowe scratched at her ear. “Summertime can be very itchy, what with the pesky gnats and all.”

Nero didn’t take Jed’s words so literally. It sounded like Jed was up to something and Nero wasn’t sure he would like it. “What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t you go getting your whiskers in a bunch. Josie will benefit from it too,” Jed said. “Now, about that Gail Weathers. Isn’t she the one who always has a cup in her hand? I did see her out at the gazebo earlier today, shortly after Victor made that ridiculous announcement.”

Nero and Marlowe exchanged a glance.

“Do you think the noises could have come from the gazebo?” Marlowe asked.

Nero bestowed a fond look on the young cat. She might be prone to jumping to conclusions, like thinking there was a second ghost, but she was picking up the clues nicely.“I do think it could have. Looks like we better get out there and investigate.”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Millie’s ample back end stuck out of the fridge as she rummaged for food. “If I was going to fake a ghost, I’d do a much better job than that clich?d moaning.”

“Well, it scared Myron. He ran out of here like his pants were on fire.” Mom pulled a box of crackers out of the cabinet. “Come to think of it, that might not have been such a bad thing if his pants did burn. Did you see all the cat hair on his cuffs?”

The fact that Myron had run out like that made me nervous. Apparently he was terrified of ghosts. Now it made sense that he’d been making a big deal about the ghost affecting the financial future of the guesthouse. “I just hope he didn’t run straight to the bank to rip up my loan papers.”

Millie backed out of the fridge with a handful of various cheeses.“Now, don’t you worry about him. I know his grandmother and if he does anything to hurt the guesthouse I’ll have her give him a talking to.”

I doubted Myron would keep the loan on his grandmother’s say-so, but at least that was something.

“He wouldn’t take the loan away, would he?” Mike’s velvety eyes were oozing with sympathy, which made me feel all funny inside.

I looked away.“I don’t know, but if he does I’m in a bit of trouble.”

“Not to worry.” Millie pulled a cheese knife out of the drawer and started cutting. “Once we find the killer and prove this ghost business is a hoax, Myron will forget all about this.”

“Don’t be too sure about that, he’s stubborn and he’s been threatening Josie.” Mom brought the cheese tray to the table and we all sat down.

“Speaking of which.” I turned to Mike who had sat beside me. “What exactly did you tell him about the gazebo? He mentioned something about it when I saw him at the bank earlier and he did not seem happy.”

Mike blushed.“Yeah, sorry about that. Anita Pendragon was nosing into the building permits and she saw my notes about the gazebo not being safe and making sure guests knew it was off limits. I guess he overheard us talking. I didn’t realize he’d think it was a big deal, because it’s not.”

Millie waved her hand dismissively, the chunk of cheese atop her cracker wobbling precariously as she did so.“Of course it’s not a big deal. Anyone can see the place is falling down so anyone with half a brain would steer clear.”

“Yeah, except I saw footprints near there. The ground is a little muddy and the mud was tracked onto the boards. So, it appears someone was there recently,” Mike said.

“Victor mentioned something about talking to Jed at the gazebo. Maybe he was scoping the place out,” I said.

“Probably trying to make sure the setting was dramatic enough. Wouldn’t put it past him to be the one that made the fake ghost noises. You know, to set the stage, so to speak,” Millie said.

As if on cue, Nero and Marlowe appeared, circling us like vultures waiting for a morsel of cheese to drop. Mom snuck a pinch of Gouda to them.

Mike shoved a cracker in his mouth.“Sothat’s why Anita was so interested in the gazebo. I’m sure she’s planning on trying to get a scoop.”

“She mentioned that she was in cahoots with Victor,” I said.

Millie’s left brow quirked up. “They’re working together?”

I nodded.“To get in on this movie deal apparently.”

“Ha!” Mom said. “I don’t trust either one of them. I once heard Anita say she’d kill for a big scoop and I wouldn’t put anything past Victor.”

“I don’t think Anita killed Madame Zenda though, because they were working together in the beginning. She was Anita’s ticket to the big scoop.” I reached down to pet Nero, who was tapping at my ankle. He dodged my hand and trotted toward the back door. Just like him to pretend like he wanted something, then walk away when you gave it to him.

Millie snorted.“So Anitasays…”

“Let’s consider this logically,” Mike said. Mom and Millie looked surprised at his words. It almost sounded like he wanted to help us investigate. Odd, because the last two times there was a murder he seemed against our involvement. Maybe he was mellowing. “Who are your suspects and what are their motives?”

“Well, there’s Anita because she wants a big story,” Mom said.

Meow.

Meroo.

The cats were meowing at the door so Millie got up to let them out.“And Victor, of course. He wants a movie deal or something.”

“And let’s not forget Esther,” I said, glancing out the window to see the cats sitting in the yard staring at me. “She seems nice, but she also seems very competitive with Victor about talking to Jed’s ghost.”

“So you think the motive is this movie?” Mike pressed his lips together. “Seems kind of far-fetched, doesn’t it? I mean, it’s not even a done deal. Murder is pretty extreme.”

“You might be right,” Mom said. “Didn’t all these people know each other before? Esther knew Madame Zenda’s name was really Betty Sue Lipowitz.”

Mike nodded.“Ahhh so a previous connection. Maybe the death had more to do with that. Some kind of revenge?”

Meroooolow…

The cats muted meows filtered through the window and I saw them pacing back and forth near the overgrown grass at the edge of the lawn.“But she’s not the only one who knew her. Look.” I got my laptop from where I’d stashed it on the counter in the butler’s pantry. The picture of the cruise was still up on the screen. “This cruise was a few years ago. You can see in the picture right up front, the featured psychics are Madame Zenda, Esther Hill and Victor Merino.”

“Huh, how about that.”

“Yeah, and Esther was at the bank. Did you know they have a display of older items there? It’s bank history and such.”

“You mean like buckles?” Millie asked.

“No buckles, but Belinda May gave me an envelope for Esther.” My attention was drawn to the window again. Now the cats were twitching their tails and looking over their shoulders at me. I had the feeling I should go out there but not until we were done going over the clues.

Millie’s brows shot up. “What was in it? Buckles?”

“No, just paper. I’m not sure exactly what was on it though because I was trying to get that out of Esther when the ghostly moans happened.”

“Speaking of which.” Mom stuck a slice of Swiss on a round cracker and then topped it off with another cracker. “Where did the ghostly noise come from?”

“Sounded like it was from outside. In the back,” Mike said.

“How would someone do that? We were all in the foyer.” Mom bit into the cracker sandwich.

“Remote control?” Millie turned to Mike. “Is that possible?”

“Yeah, sure. Lots of things are possible these days. There’d have to be a speaker of some sort though, to allow the noise to carry.”

“That sounds like a lot of trouble to go to, and how would they work the remote without us seeing them?” Millie asked.

“Maybe they put it on a timer?” Mom suggested.

Millie squinted at the picture on my laptop.“So Esther and Victor knew Zenda…”

“And that tea-leaf lady, Gail.” Mom pointed to a face in the back row of the picture and Millie squinted even harder. It was Gail.

“I didn’t even notice her!” I said. “I was so focused on the names of the other psychics listed on the bill and she isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah, what is she doing lurking in the back there?” Mom asked.

Speaking of lurking, she’d been doing that in the butler’s pantry too. She’d said she was looking for tea, but now I wondered. “She seems to lurk a lot. And Anita thought it was suspicious that she didn’t have much of a history as a psychic.”

“Thatis a bit odd. Maybe she’s new? I mean, people have to start out somewhere. Look at Millie and me. We weren’t ace detectives last year. We had to learn the ropes.” Mom chewed a piece of cheese thoughtfully. “Then again, Gail was the only one who wasn’t in the foyer when the ghostly noises happened.”

Millie, Mike and I stared at her. She was right. I glanced out the window to see the cats trotting down the path that led to the gazebo.

“Maybe she wasn’t there because she was at the gazebo orchestrating the noises.” I pushed up from the table and headed toward the door. “And if she was, she might have left some evidence!”

Twenty-Two

“We better hurry, it’s getting dark,” Millie said as we followed the cats down the narrow path that led to the gazebo. It was still daylight, but the sun was starting to dip below the trees behind us as we picked our way through the overgrown grass, saplings and small shrubs.

It only took about five minutes to get to the gazebo. It stood on a highpoint of land and had a view of Smugglers Cove in the distance. The ocean was a hazy light blue, the sky pink with the reflection of the setting sun behind us.

The gazebo had seen better days. To say it was dilapidated was an understatement, though I’m sure it was once beautiful. I could see evidence of gingerbread molding in the corners, fancy lattice underneath and copper flashing on the roof, but all of that was now hidden beneath rotting boards and peeling paint. Grass and shrubs had grown up along the sides, vines wound around the railings and a thin tree had sprouted on one of the benches and grown through a hole in the roof.

It wouldn’t be this unsightly for long though. Ed would start work soon and it would be grand again… if my loan held out.

A flock of pigeons flapped out of the crumblingcupola noisily as we approached. Millie stopped a few feet from the structure.“Look! Footprints!” She pointed to the mud where various partial impressions of shoes could be seen. I tried to make out what types of shoes. Surely that would help us figure out who had been here? The work boots were probably from Mike and Ed. There were others too, which looked like some sortof soft-soled tennis shoes. Millie took out her cell phone and snapped off a few pictures.

The cats had trotted off to the side and were sniffing around under the stump of a large oak tree. Nero glanced back, catching my eye. Was there something of interest over there? But no sooner did I wonder that than the cats came trotting back and sat down next to me, staring at the footprints as if they, too, were considering them as evidence.

Mike pressed his lips together as we all studied the prints.“There are more prints than when I was here before.”

“Someone else has been here!” Mom said, as if she wasn’t stating the obvious.

We’d seen Myron lurking near the barn from the upstairs window. I turned to survey the landscape, I could barely see the barn roof through the overgrowth, it wasn’t close, but if Myron wanted to see the property up close he might have walked here from there or been here first. “Maybe Myron?”

Mike squatted down to look closer at the prints.“I don’t think so. He wears dress shoes all the time and I don’t see a print that matches that. Looks like work boots and some kind of tennis shoe or sneakers. Small size, so probably a woman.”

Exactly what I had concluded. Too bad I hadn’t said that out loud, I could have shown him that you don’t need to have a past as a navy investigator to make logical deductions.

Merooooo. Nero and Marlowe hopped up onto what was left of the gazebo railing and sat, their tails twitching as they looked down at us.

Millie squinted up at them, then her gaze fell on the stairs.“Look there’s mud on the stairs. You were right, Mike, someone has been in the gazebo.”

Mike smiled indulgently at his aunt.

“But why?” Mom gave the structure a critical look. “The place is falling apart. Why would someone risk getting hurt by going in there? I mean, you could get splintered, or lockjaw or a broken leg.”

“Must be something of interest in there.” Millie gingerly picked her way up the broken steps. “And there’s only one way to find out what that is.”

Mereee!

Nero and Marlowe jumped down from the railing and headed to the other side of the gazebo, scurrying under one of the built-in benches that lined the walls.

“Better not go up there…” Mike’s warning was too late, Millie was already at the top step.

“I think the cats are trying to tell us something.” Millie rushed over to the other side where the cats were now waiting.

Mike sighed and started up the steps.

“Yep, footprints over here too!” Millie yelled. Her knees popped as she crouched down beside the cats. They were zigzagging back and forth, their interest centered on something beneath the bench.

“Better not mess around up there, Aunt Millie. It’s not safe!” Mike probably knew she wouldn’t listen to him. I mean, even I knew that when Millie was hot on the trail of something she didn’t stop for anything.

“Oh, it will be fine.” Millie’s voice was muffled because she had her head under the bench. “Besides, the cats want to show me something.”

Not wanting to be left out, Mom and I scurried up behind Mike. The first thing I noticed was muddy footprints and they weren’t ours because the mud had dried. The second thing I noticed was that the cats were pacing back and forth atop the bench that Millie had her head under.

The third thing I noticed was that Mom had joined Millie and now both of them had their heads under the bench. There must have been a hole in the floor because Millie’s right arm was digging around for something.

“I think I see something shiny under here,” Millie said. “Do you see it, Rose?”

Mom stuck her head further under to the sounds of more joints creaking. She was practically lying down trying to get a good look into the opening.“There it is! To your left.”

Mike and I exchanged exasperated looks.

Mike bent down and tugged at Millie’s left arm. “Here let me do that. You shouldn’t be doing this at your age.”

Uh oh… that comment was going to backfire on him. Millie sprung up, hands fisted on her hips. Mom backed out of the hole and looked up at Mike incredulously.

“I thought I raised you better than that! Talking about a lady’s age. And besides, I am not old!”

Mom jumped up and brushed the dirt off her pants.“Yeah, we aren’t old! I’m surprised at you, Michael Sullivan.” Mom reverting to using Mike’s full name was not a good thing.

Mike didn’t seem fazed. He crouched down and felt around under the bench. At least his remark had done the job of getting them off the floor. Perhaps Mike was more clever than I thought.

Mike pulled a small black-and-chrome device out from under the bench.“Huh, looks like a tape recorder.”

“Aha!” Millie grabbed for it. “This must be what made the ghostly noises!”

“Someone hid it under that bench,” Mom said.

Mike took it back from Millie and looked it over. To me it looked just like a small black box with some switches, like a cell phone.

“Let’s see if you’re right,” Mike said. “This is a pretty simple device, looks like it just records and then plays back.” He glanced toward the house. From here you could just see the top of the roof. “But I don’t think the sound would carry all the way to the foyer of the guesthouse.”

“Poppycock. It has to!” Millie grabbed for it again, but Mike pulled it back. “Let’s hear what’s on it.”

Mike fiddled with the switches and studied the display. Finally, he pressed a button but all that came out was a repeat of the conversation we’d just had.

“You must have messed with it and put it on record. You have to rewind it.” Millie grabbed it out of his hand and fiddled for a few minutes, but still the only thing it had on it was our conversation.

“Maybe we recorded over it, or the perpetrator set it to automatically erase the sounds after it played,” Mom said. “You know, destroy the evidence like how the secret message would self-destruct in that movieGet Smart.”

“Maybe.” Mike didn’t look convinced. “At any rate, someone did put it here for a reason. Unless it fell out of a pocket or something. Maybe we should call Seth Chamberlain.”

“And what? Tell him we found a tape recorder with nothing on it?” Millie asked. “I’m sure he’ll rush right over.”

Meow! Nero was at the top of the steps, looking over his shoulder at us. Clearly he wanted us to head back to the guesthouse with the evidence. Marlowe was already halfway down the path.

“See? Nero has the right idea. We need to confront the perp with this. We’ll pretend like the evidence is still on there and get a confession.” Millie headed down the steps.

“I don’t think—” Mike’s sentence was interrupted by an alarm on his phone. He dug it out and looked at the display. “Shoot. I have an appointment for an inspection over on Glendale. I have to go.”

“Darn. That’s too bad.” Mom hurried down the steps after Millie. “You’re going to miss all the fun.”

“Hey, wait up!” Mike jogged to catch up to Millie and I followed behind. I hoped he wasn’t going to give us his lecture about not investigating. “Aunt Millie, don’t forget the person who hid this might be dangerous. Don’t do anything rash on your own,” Mike said.

Millie stopped and turned faux-innocent eyes on her nephew.“Oh don’t worry, we won’t do anything rash without you.”

He looked at her skeptically, and with good reason, as from where I was standing I could see she had her fingers crossed behind her back. I purposely avoided eye contact with him.

Mike sighed.“Hey, you’re grown women.”

“That’s right,” Mom said. “We can handle ourselves. Now you run along and we’ll just take this tape recorder inside for safekeeping.”

Twenty-Three

As soon as Mike walked away, Millie charged towards the kitchen door.“Any idea where we could find Gail this time of day?”

“Why are you so sure the recorder is from her?” Mom asked.

“I’m not, but she’s the only one who wasn’t in the foyer when the noises were made and she’s mysterious. No background in the business and lurking behind Madame Zenda in that cruise photo. I say we question her first.”

Mom hesitated at the door.“You did tell Mike—”

Millie cut her off.“I told him we wouldn’t do anything rash. This isn’t rash. This is calculated. And besides, there are three of us and only one of her.”

We checked around the house and found Gail in the back parlor staring into a dainty blue teacup. She must have gotten that one out of the china cabinet, another one of the items that had come from Millie’s family and been included with the sale of the guesthouse. I hoped Millie wouldn’t be mad that the guests were helping themselves to the use of her family heirlooms.

Gail looked up, her eyes wary as we approached. Maybe she sensed our purpose, or perhaps the tea leaves had warned her.

Mom was making pointed glances at Gail’s shoes and I looked down to see that the white fabric of her tennis shoes was stained dark from mud. Gail had been at the gazebo. I looked around the room for a weapon, just in case.

She smiled nervously and held the teacup in front of her as if for protection as we each took a seat. Mom sat on the sofa next to her and Millie and I each took one of the wingback chairs across from the sofa.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Gail glanced out the window. A gray twilight had descended and she amended her greeting. “Or should I say good evening.”

“Evening.” Millie was sitting so that the tape recorder was hidden. Probably saving it so as to have the element of surprise. It seemed quite obvious to me that she was taking pains to hide something and it must have been obvious to Gail too, if the way her eyes kept flicking to Millie’s sidewere any indication. “I suppose you heard about the excitement.”

“Esther told me about the ghostly moans.” Gail huffed. “Probably that pompous clown Victor staged it as more drama to his big announcement.”

Though I wouldn’t put it past Victor to do that, I’d seen the look on his face in the foyer and he had appeared genuinely frightened. Of course, that could all just be part of his act.

“Yeah, funny thing though,” Mom said. “We were wonderinghow he did that.”

Gail shrugged.“Who knows? They have all kinds of gadgets these days that can produce such sounds.”

“You should know about that, dear,” Millie said.

At Gail’s confused look, Millie whipped out the recorder and shoved it in front of her face.

Gail took a nervous sip of her tea.“That one doesn’t seem suitable for the noise that I heard described.”

“Ha! You would say that.” Mom leaned closer to Gail. “That device is yours. Admit it!”

“Well… I don’t know that it’s mine… I do have one similar.”

I was surprised at her curious reaction. I’d expected extreme denial or some kind of fight. Maybe she was thinking she could outwit us. I guess she didn’t know Mom and Millie very well.

Millie leaned closer to Gail, she was practically out of her seat. Gail shrunk back into the couch, her eyes darting between Mom leaning close on one side and Millie leaning close on the other.

“Fess up. We know you were the only one not in the foyer when we heard the noises, and we found this recorder in the gazebo,” Millie said.

“And you have mud stains on your shoes.” Mom pointed at Gail’s feet. “I bet that’s the same mud that’s out near the gazebo.”

“And we know you were on that cruise with Madame Zenda. You have a previous connection!” Millie said.

“Yeah, one that might hide a motive for murder,” Mom added, with a knowing nod.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Gail said. “Esther and Victor were on that cruise too.”

“But you are the only one who wasn’t upfront about your purpose there. We saw a photo, and Esther and Victor were front and center as featured mediums and you were lurking in the background,” Millie said.

Gail fidgeted.“I’m not hiding anything. I wasn’t a medium on that cruise.”

Millie tapped the recorder.“So you’re saying you didn’t hide this in the gazebo?”

Gail was silent, her eyes darting between the three of us as she gnawed her bottom lip. Finally, Gail slumped back on the sofa.“You’re right. I am hiding something.”

“I knew it!” Millie whipped out her cell phone. “I’ll just call the sheriff now. Won’t he be surprised to find that we’ve gotten the confession from Madame Zenda’s killer!”

“Confession? No!” Gail put her cup down on the coffee table and I quickly shoved a coaster under it. Not for nothing, because the coffee table was antique mahogany and it was almost impossible to get those white rings out. I’d heard Flora complain about that plenty of times.

Gail continued,“I didn’t kill Madame Zenda. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because of Victor.”

“You were planning to kill Victor?” Mom must have taken a dim view of Victor, because she looked as if she was considering letting Gail go.

“No. I was here to prove he was a fraud. That’s why I put the recorder in the gazebo.” Gail gestured toward the device in Millie’s hand. “I didn’t put it in there toplayghostly noises, I put it in there torecord Victor.”

Millie raised a brow at her.“You did?”

“Take a look at it. You’ll see it’s onrecord. And it’s blank, so you won’t find any ghostly noises.”

Millie, Mom and I looked at each other. We’d already messed up the original setting, but that would explain why all that was on it was the recording of our conversation.

“But what were you going to record?” Millie asked.

“I was going to prove once and for all that Victor was a fraud. He said he’d talk to Jed’s ghost and mentioned the gazebo and the cemetery. I put recorders in both places hoping I could pick up something that proved he was a phoney. They are voice activated,” Gail said.

“So you have a beef with Victor. I admit he is obnoxious. And those stupid velour suits. But what about the cruise?” Mom asked.

“And why is there no record of you being a psychic?” I gestured toward the teacup. “Most everyone has a website or some kind of ad, but you have nothing.”

Gail looked down at the floor.“I’m not really a tea-leaf reader. I came out here on that pretense to trap Victor. Mary Chambers was my best friend. We were on that Dreams Divinity cruise together. That’s where she met Victor.”

It all clicked. I should have realized it before. Anita had said Gail was from Ohio and so was Mary.“Mary was the woman that Victor bilked out of money, claiming he could talk to her dead husband, wasn’t she?”

Gail nodded, her eyes moist.“Yes. She was a lovely person and sheso wanted to talk to her husband again. She died broken-hearted when her daughter convinced her that Victor was cheating her and she hadn’t really been talking to her husband.”

That explained why I’d seen her staring out the window at Victor and why Anita had seen her following them when they’d talked to the movie producer. If Gail’s story was true, she’d been looking for dirt on Victor all along.

“Well then, who killed Madame Zenda and made the ghostly noises?” Mom asked. “Someone had to hide something somewhere to make them. Unless there really is a ghost.”

Millie gave Mom an annoyed look at her suggestion that there might actually be a real ghost, then narrowed her gaze at Gail.“Maybe you killed Zenda by mistake, thinking she was Victor?”

“Hardly. There was no mistaking one for the other, and besides, I wasn’t going to kill Victor, just prove he was a fraud so the whole world would know.” Gail tapped her fingers on her lips. “But I did see one person doing something odd on the grounds when I was putting the tape recorder in the gazebo. I was sneaking around so no one would see me and so was the other person.”

“We know all about Anita Pendragon lurking around,” I said.

Gail shook her head.“No, it wasn’t her. I hate to even mention it because she seems like such a nice person, but she really was acting odd.” Gail looked up at us.

“Who?” I prompted.

“It was Esther Hill and she was messing around in that old outhouse. I have no idea what she was doing, but she was in there for quite some time.”

Twenty-Four

“It’s always the nice ones who have dark secrets,” Millie said as we headed toward the outhouse, flashlights in hand. Now that the sun had set, the dark shadows of twilight loomed around us and the hooting of owls and scurrying of squirrels and chipmunks in the leaves took an ominous tone.

“I should have connected the dots earlier,” I said. “Flora said Esther was at the outhouse, remember? I thought she was just doing her usual complaining about cleaning, so when the ghostly noises happened I didn’t put two and two together, but the noise came from that direction and it wouldbe a great place to hide something.”

“Easy to see how you would think that. She does complain a lot.” Millie flicked her light at the shabby structure as we approached.

The outhouse was fairly large and it wasn’t in very good shape. It was listing to one side, the wood gray and rotting. Grass and weeds had grown up knee high around the outside. The door had a crescent moon cut out, but it was too dark in there to see inside. We creaked the door open slowly.

Nero and Marlowe pushed through ahead of me. The moonlight slanted in from the door opening and reflected off the cats’ eyes as they sat blinking at us from the darkness inside.

“Well don’t just stand there, let’s go inside.” Mom aimed her light at the interior and pushed in front of me.

“What do you think Esther was doing in here?” I asked as I pointed the beam of my light around. The flashlights were all small pen-sized lights that sent out a narrow beam that didn’t reach far. Probably not that great for the job but, seeing as I hadn’t anticipated skulking around in outhouses in the middle of the night, they were all I had on short notice.

“Hiding the speaker that made the ghost noises, of course.” Millie shot me a look that said “duh”.

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe there is another reason she was here.” I pointed my light at one of the holes. Nothing but a black pit. I dared not look too closely, that hole led to things I didn’t want to think about. “Maybe she thought being here would bring her closer to Jed.I mean, he probably spent a lot of time in here and I do remember someone mentioning that being close to places or things that someone spent a lot of time near when living could help raise their ghost.”

“This is an odd place to hide the recorder,” Mom said. “Maybe Gail was lying to us. If I were the killer I’d lie to us.”

“But Flora saw Esther here, too,” I reminded them.

“And the recorder that Gail had didn’t have ghostly noises on it,” Millie said. “Her claims about the real reason she is here do make sense. We know Victor scammed that woman from the cruise. We should find a way to verify that she really was that woman’s friend though.”

“Even so, she could still be the killer.” Mom seemed reluctant to let go of that theory as she ran her light over the three holes. “Sure glad we don’t have to use this thing. Did you have to when you were a kid, Millie?”

Millie snorted.“I’m not that old! We had indoor plumbing. This old thing hasn’t been used since my grandfather’s time.”

Meow!

Nero was walking along the“seat” part, which was just a long board with three large holes in it. “Don’t fall in there, because I’m not going in after you.” I used my sternest tone, but Nero just blinked at me and continued walking along, balancing precariously on the edges of the holes as if challenging me.

When Nero moved, my light picked out a spot in the wood that looked like it had fresh scratch marks.“Look at this, looks like someone pried this open.”

“A hidden compartment, maybe?” Millie put her flashlight in her mouth and reached over toward the wood. She tugged and pulled and finally a small section slid back revealing a dark hole.

“What’s in it?” Mom asked.

We all shone our lights into the dark section.“Can’t see. The compartment goes behind the board.” Millie angled the light and craned her neck to see inside. “Darn. It’s too dark in there.”

“Reach in with your hand,” Mom suggested.

“I’m not reaching in with my hand,youdo it.” Millie stepped back from the hole and gestured for my mother to step up.

Mom looked at the hole uncertainly.“I’m not doing it. Josie, you do it. You’re younger and if something bites you, you have a much higher chance of recovery.” Mom pushed me toward the hole.

Visions of nests of spiders, centipedes or worse ran though my head as I aimed my flashlight inside. Someone had to reach in though, and I didn’t want Mom or Millie to get hurt. Guess it was up to me.

I slowly put my hand in, tentatively feeling the sides and bottom of the compartment, my heart thudding with the expectation of feeling the creepy sensation of insect legs at any moment. Thankfully I didn’t, but I also didn’t feel anything of interest. Satisfied that I’d explored the entire compartment, I withdrew my hand as quickly as possible. “It’s empty.”

“Darn!” Mom said.

Millie shone the beam of her flashlight over the interior of the outhouse again. Probably looking for more secret compartments.“Esther must have come in and gotten the recorder after the noises played. She’d have had plenty of time and we wouldn’t have seen her because we were busy with Gail.”

“But how would she know there was a secret compartment in the first place?” I asked. Still not convinced, I shone my light on the scratches again. The scratched wood was light, almost white in color. Surely it had been done recently.

“Good question,” Mom said. “Maybe it wasn’t Esther. Maybe it was Jed’s ghost. He’d know about the hiding place I bet.”

“Rose, there’s no such thing as ghosts!” Millie who had had her back to us, turned quickly, the flashlight under her chin lighting her face in a ghastly way.

Mom screamed and jumped back.

I did too.

Nero and Marlowe practically fell into the holes they were circling.

Millie cackled, then lowered the flashlight and rolled her eyes.“Come on, let’s look the rest of the place over. It’s pretty obvious someone has been in that hidden compartment, but there might be another clue and we might as well look while we are in here.”

We searched for a few minutes but found nothing else. The cats weren’t much help, they were more interested in sniffing the holes. Yech.

“Well, I guess that’s that. We need to confront Esther.” Millie brushed the dirt off her hands and started for the crescent-moon door.

Merooo!Nero sounded like he wasn’t too keen on confronting Esther. It was no wonder, she’d given the cats a lot of treats and they were probably reluctant to think she could be a killer.

“She did seem to get really mad when Victor claimed he was talking to Jed tonight,” I said.

Merope! Marlowe added her two cents as I ushered them out of the outhouse and shut the door.

“And she got that mysterious envelope,” Mom added. “We need to see what’s in there.”

“Yeah.” Millie picked up the pace and was practically jogging toward the guesthouse. I wasn’t sure if it was because it had gotten even darker and a little scary outside or if she was excited about facing Esther. “The contents of that envelope could be the key. I have a feeling that the sooner we find out what it is, the sooner we can catch our killer.”

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“I haven’t seen Millie move this fast in years,” Nero said as they trotted along beside the humans. Moonlight lit the path, but the humans had their flashlights bobbing in front of them like oversized fireflies. Blades of tall grass whipped Nero in the face every so often when he strayed too close to the edge.

“She seems eager to get on with her interrogation.” Marlowe glanced back longingly at the outhouse. “It’s a shame because there were lots of lovely smells in there and I hated to leave.”

“They didn’t even notice that someone had been digging at the gazebo,” Nero said.

“We did all we could to alert them, but once they found the recorder they were focused on that.”

Nero shook his head.“Just like humans not to consider there might be another thing to investigate.”

“At least they got it half right. Gail did put the recorder there,” Marlowe said.

“But who did the digging?” Nero asked.

“It could have been Gail. She was there.”

“No, I think it was someone else. Perhaps Victor. He was missing from the guesthouse this afternoon.”

Marlowe glanced at Nero.“Before or after the noises? Maybe he was the one hiding the recorder. It would make sense because he wants everyone to think he is talking to Jed.”

“Indeed. I wonder if, perhaps, he was burying the recorder so as not to be found with the evidence.”

“Or maybe he really did talk to Jed and was digging up the treasure,” Marlowe suggested.

“There is no buried treasure!” Jed’s voice boomed from beside Nero, making him jump sideways in the air like a frightened kitten. He then leaped and pivoted, trying to pretend he did that on purpose.

“Thought I saw a snake,” Nero said at Marlowe’s amused expression.

Marlowe turned to Jed.“You keep saying there is no treasure, but your memory doesn’t appear to be very good. Maybe you are mistaken. I mean, you couldn’t remember where you had buried it.”

“That was just a momentary confusion on account of the property being so different from my time. Now that I have my bearings, I know exactly where I put things.”

“And Esther tried to dig it up, but nothing was there,” Nero added. They were almost at the house now and he wondered what Millie was going to do. At the rate she was moving she planned to go in all guns blazing and accuse Esther. That might not be the best course of action, especially since hehad his doubts as to whether Esther was the killer.

“It wouldn’t be there.” Jed floated along keeping pace beside them. “I remember that old oak tree. There was no gazebo at the time, but the view of the cove is very pretty from that spot so everyone used to go there. I wouldn’t be so stupid as to bury treasure there where anyone could stumble across it.”

“So what was the digging at the gazebo about?” Marlowe asked.

Nero shrugged.“Another mystery to be solved.”

“So you say that Millie and the gang think Esther is mixed up in the murder now?” Jed asked.

“Shewas in the outhouse for suspicious reasons,” Nero said.

Jed stopped abruptly. He looked quite disturbed.“She may have had very good reasons. After all, I spent a lot of time in there.”

“Umm… Okay. So she wanted to be close to you in an outhouse?” Marlowe’s whiskers twitched. “Yech.”

“The fact remains that someone took something out of that old compartment.” Nero turned to Jed. “Did you know about that?”

Jed swirled and dipped.“I might have had a little secret stash to hide some hooch from the missus back then.”

Nero exchanged a glance with Marlowe.“So you knew it was there, and you’re in communication with Esther… so…”

“No! It’s not like that. Esther is no killer, I swear to that!”

Poor Jed, he had it bad for Esther. Nero had never seen a ghost so smitten. Was Jed so gullible that Esther had him doing her dirty work? How far would he go for her?

“I don’t think she’s the killer, either,” Marlowe said.

Nero glanced at the younger cat.“Is there concrete evidence which has caused you to reach this conclusion or do you just favor her because she gives us treats?”

Marlowe’s steps faltered. “I… well… She seems so nice, I can’t imagine her killing anyone.”

“In our line of work, we can’t go with how we feel, we have to make conclusions based on evidence.” Nero tried to keep the exasperation out of his tone. One minute Marlowe seemed as if she was making great progress in the ways of becoming a cat detective and other times it was as if she’d taken two steps backwards. Oh well, not every feline could be a great detective like he was, he had to remember to be patient with his prot?g?e.

Jed swirled to Esther’s defense. “She is nice. And kind. She wants justice. Have you not considered that there may be another reason for her activities?”

They reached the house and Millie ripped the door open and ran inside with the other humans quickly following. Jed held back and Nero paused, waiting for him to fill them in.

“Well, what is her other reason?” Nero said finally.

Jed looked a bit unsure of himself.“I’m not sure exactly what Esther has in mind. Wait, it can’t be…” He paused and looked off in the distance, then said very softly, almost as if to himself, “ Yes… Yes… it all makes sense now. This goes back much deeper than either you or the humans think and I bet I know who is behind all of it.”

Twenty-Five

Millie skidded to a halt in the kitchen and we all piled in behind her. The door banged shut, leaving the cats outside. They wasted no time in meowing their displeasure and I opened it to let them in. The five of us stood around catching our breath.

“What’s your plan?” I asked Millie.

“I do think we need to proceed with caution. We could be dealing with a killer,” Millie said.

“Maybe weshould call Seth,” Mom suggested.

Millie pressed her lips together.“No time for that, if Esther is the killer we need to act fast. Victor is planning something and I’m sure Esther means to stop him.”

Meooow.Nero blinked up at us as if contributing to the conversation.

I looked down at him.“I know you like her, but this is bigger than cat treats.”

Nero seemed affronted. He yowled, turned his back end toward us and flicked his tail at me.

Millie frowned at him.“Anyway. I’m sure she is still in the house, probably waiting to make a move on Victor. I think the key is to catch her alone.”

“Good plan. Even if she tries something, it is three against one.” I pointed to Mom, Millie and then myself.

“And two cats,” Mom added.

“Right,” Millie said. “I think we should get her to show us what was in that envelope and potentially use that to get a confession. I have Seth on speed dial so we can call him in once we have solid evidence.”

“Good thinking. We wouldn’t want to call him prematurely lest we ruin our reputation,” Mom said.

Millie nodded.“We have to be very careful about our credibility. We’ve called him in on a few false leads before. Won’t make that mistake again.”

They were worried about theircredibility? I was more worried about another murder at the guesthouse.

Millie put her fingers to her lips with a shushing noise. Someone was rustling around in the butler’s pantry. We crept over to see Gail looking out the window.

Gail turned to us.“Shh… he’s out there. I saw him.”

“Who?” Mom asked, ducking down and then peeking up over the countertop to look out the window.

“Victor.” From the tone of Gail’s voice, she might as well have been telling us the devil was out there. I guess she did see him as such. I really hoped he was the killer, he seemed like a jerk, but the evidence we had pointed to Esther.

“What’s he doing?” Millie asked.

“Getting ready for his fake talk with Jed, I assume. He called in that reporter,” Gail whispered.

Anita Pendragon was out there too? I leaned closer to the glass but it was dark out and I couldn’t see a thing.

“Tonight is Victor’s last chance. I heard Anita saying the movie producer called her about the story. Nothing sensational has happened, so he’s moving on. Victor will have to up his game.” Gail turned to us, her eyes deadly serious and maybe a little crazy. “He may do something drastic. Maybe even murder.”

“You think he’s the killer?” Mom asked.

Gail turned back to the window and murmured,“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Mom, Millie and I exchanged looks.Should we try to follow him?

“Here he comes!” Gail whispered as I saw a figure emerge from the shadows and head toward the back foyer.

We all ducked.

“What do you think he’s up to?” Mom whispered.

“Not sure.” Gail peeked up over the counter. “He must be setting things up for his big chance. Anita is out there too. I saw another shadowy figure over by the conservatory and it wasn’t Victor.”

The door to the foyer opened and we heard someone slip in. Sounded like they were trying to be quiet. Gail turned to us.“Are you going to catch him?”

Millie thought about that.“If he’s the killer we will. But first things first, these things must be done in a methodical manner. Do you know where Esther is?”

Gail cocked her ear toward the ceiling. We could hear Victor going up the stairs. The second-floor landing creaked but he kept going. Was he going to the attic? I’d locked the door, hadn’t I?

Gail didn’t look away from the ceiling as she spoke. “Esther’s in the front parlor gazing into that crystal ball of hers.”

Millie jerked her head in the direction of the front parlor and said,“Come on, ladies. We have no time to waste!”

Esther was in the front parlor just as Gail had said. She was seated at the oak table next to the window, her gaze fixated on the crystal ball, which was practically glowing atop the purple velvet cloth she’d laid on the table’s surface. I wondered if the cloth was part of her act or if she’d done that so as not to scratch the antique table. If it was the latter, I made a note to make sure to let her know I appreciated that… after we got a confession out of her, of course.

The cats were already there. They must have come in when we were talking to Gail. Marlowe was curled up on Esther’s lap and Nero was sitting on the corner of the table, his gaze fixed out the window.

Esther looked up at us, her eyes cloudy as if she were somewhere else entirely. Slowly her gaze cleared and her face registered surprise.

“Oh, hello.” Her voice sounded uncertain. I suppose it was a bit intimidating to look up and see the three of us looming over her.

Mew.Nero blinked at us. I sensed disapproval in his demeanor. Marlowe let out a snore from the comfort of Esther’s lap. I envied Marlowe’s ability to lapse into a catnap quickly and at any time, she was clearly oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“Hi, Esther.” Millie’s tone was friendly as she sat down across from her.

“Would you like a reading?” Esther waved her hands over the crystal ball.

“No. We’d actually like to talk to you about something much more important.”

“Oh?” Esther’s gaze flicked between the three of us. “Yes. Those ghostly noises we heard earlier.”

Millie sat back in her chair and studied Esther.

“Those were dreadful, weren’t they?” Esther shivered.

“We think whoever is responsible must have hidden a device outside on the grounds,” Millie said.

“Oh? I hadn’t thought much about that.” Esther was a good liar. She really did look as if she hadn’t thought much about it. “I suppose they did. My guess is it was Victor.”

Millie drummed her fingers on the table, the sound muted by the purple cloth.“Maybe, but you were also seen outside in a very odd place.”

Meow!Marlowe stirred in Esther’s lap and something crinkled. The envelope from the bank? I looked over but she had a flowy caftan on that hid whatever was crinkling.

Marlowe glared at Millie, then stretched and jumped up onto the table next to Nero and followed his gaze out the window.

“Me?” Esther averted her gaze, focusing on the crystal ball. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Millie glanced up at me with a triumphant look. Esther was clearly lying and to Millie that meant she was the guilty party.

Mom leaned over the table.“Give it up, Esther. We know you’re hiding something.”

Mew!Nero’s tone held a warning, but it wasn’t directed at my mother. His gaze was steady out the window and… wait… someone was out there! I leaned forward to get a better look.

“I’m not hiding anything!” Esther was indignant.

“No? Then explain what you were doing in the outhouse!” Millie demanded.

“I had my reasons, which are none of your business,” Esther said quietly.

Outside something was moving. A shadow. I leaned even closer. It was Anita Pendragon! I could make out the shape of her hair and it looked like she was wearing a trench coat. Rather dramatic if you ask me. What in the world was she up to?

Muffled creaking came from above. With a sinking sensation, I realized that Ihad left the door unlocked. Had Victor really gone into the attic and if so, what was he doing?

“I think you have way too many secrets.” Millie leaned across the table. “Is one of those secrets the fact that you killed Madame Zenda?”

“What? No. I did not kill her.” Esther’s hands fell from the table to her lap.

“Well then, you won’t mind explaining why you lied about being at the antiques store,” Millie said.

“And what you purchased while you were there,” Mom added.

“Or what is in that envelope that you got from the bank.” I nodded toward her lap.

More crinkling. We had her now, she seemed rather nervous, her eyes darting to the crystal ball as if seeking advice from it.

“It’s not anything to do with the murder. Well, at least not Madame Zenda’s murder.” She clutched the envelope to her chest.

“Let us see it, then.” Mom grabbed a corner and tugged.

Esther tugged back.“It’s just information from the bank.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind if we look at it.” Mom tugged harder and Esther pulled back harder.

Something fell from Esther’s lap to the floor and rolled under the table. The hardwood floors in the guesthouse were quite old and things had sagged a bit. Anything that fell on the floor eventually rolled to the middle. Nero and Marlowe were on it like alley cats on mice, their paws batting it to and fro.

I was hoping to see an old buckle, but no dice. It was a pen. I picked it up. It had a modern pen tip, but looked quite old, similar to the one I’d seen in the picture at the bank where Jed was signing something. Esther must have had Agnes Withington retrofit it.

“Aha!” Millie pointed at the pen.

“So youwere at the antiques store,” Mom said.

“So what if I was?” Esther tugged the envelope back into her possession.

“You lied about it andthat means that you have something to hide,” Millie said.

“I didn’t have anything to hide. Agnes didn’t want me to tell anyone.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I gave her a reading.” Esther gestured toward the crystal ball. “Some people are funny about that. We traded services, I did a reading and she made an old fountain pen I had from my mother into a more useable product.”

I looked at the pen in my hand.“And you didn’t buy an old buckle?”

“No.” She sat straighter in her chair. “Now, if you are done interrogating me, I have much to do before Victor puts on his little show.”

“I bet you do.” Millie nodded knowingly. “Like making sure he doesn’t have a chance to do it at all!”

“You have it all wrong!” Esther’s voice quivered slightly.

Meow!

Nero and Marlowe scrambled up onto the table as another shadow passed. We were all looking out the window when creaking from overhead drew our attention to the ceiling. Mom seized the opportunity to reach over and grab the envelope, Esther tried to snatch it back, but she didn’t quite make it and the contents spilled out over the antique Persian rug.

I snatched up the papers. Surely this was the clue to it all? But it wasn’t, it was exactly as Esther had said—just old papers about the bank.

Esther shot up from her chair and shoved her hand in my face.“Give those back, they’re nothing to you.”

“Still feigning innocence. You might as well confess now. Josie will prove you’re the killer with what is on those papers.” Mom looked back at me with the utmost confidence. “Won’t you, Josie?”

I barely glanced up at my mother. I was too busy trying to figure out just what it was about the papers that tugged at my memory.

The first paper was the early history of the bank. It was a photocopy of an old piece of paper where someone had scrawled in blotchy ink a timeline of the first several months. I looked up at the top to see a date. I guess that must have been a diary of some sort, written by the bank’s founder, Thomas Remington, judging by the signature at the bottom. It detailed the money he’d used to start the bank and the small building he’d rented from which to do business.