A Whisker in the Dark: A purrfectly unputdownable cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 2)

Nine

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

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

And it was a lot more than just the Biddefords.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, then?”

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

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

“Perhaps.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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