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

Nineteen

“Josie still does not quite understand what we are trying to tell her,” Marlowe said from her perch near the pantry the next morning as they watched Josie heat up the quiche in the oven.

“But at least she is open to the fact that we are trying to tell her something. She needs more work, but this is a start,” said Nero.

“Start schmart, she needs to listen to us now or she’s going to end up in trouble just like she did with the last murder.” Marlowe eyed the countertop where the dishes were drying. “We may need to do something drastic.”

Nero sighed. “I know. Unfortunately, she is going down the wrong path. She totally misinterpreted our hints about that history book. There are much more interesting suspects to pursue than Myron Remington.”

“True. Though it is interesting that his family was connected with the Biddefords. I thought I smelled something familiar on him too,” Marlowe said.

Nero glanced at the tortie as she strutted over to the countertop. Had Marlowe really developed such a keen sense of smell or was she just saying that to make herself seem smart? It was true Myron had smelled familiar, but it wasn’t because some ancestor had once worked in the house. No, Nero suspected there was an entirely different reason and he needed to clue Josie in on it.

“What are you kitties up to?” Josie stood hands on hips watching them. “Do you need a treat for all your good work last night?”

Nero gave her his most adorable head tilt.

Meow.

Josie opened the fridge and Marlowe hopped up onto the countertop and started batting at the dishes. Josie backed out of the fridge with a plate in her hand then scowled at Marlowe. “No, don’t do that. Especially not that Yale mug. Carla will have a fit.”

Josie picked Marlowe up and placed her on the floor then put down a small dish with some little bite-sized tidbits of steak inside.

“That’s very good steak, so you guys chew slowly and savor it.”

Marlowe eagerly got to work on the steak along with Nero.

“We’re going to have to push her in the right direction, somehow,” Nero said between mouthfuls. “We need to show her that Myron is not up to what she thinks he is.”

“But we don’t know for sure, do we?” Marlowe asked. “He could be the killer.”

“Perhaps. He could be involved, but remember that Juliette heard a woman in the confessional.” Nero finished off the last of the steak just as Ed O’Hara appeared in the doorway.

Nero knew the elderly gentleman had something of a crush on Josie, though their ages were mismatched. The smile on Ed’s face as he silently watched Josie work left little doubt. It was all harmless. Ed’s wife had passed a few years prior and he needed something to focus on. He would never actually try to ask Josie for a date. Besides, Josie was perfect for Millie’s nephew Mike. Everyone but Josie could see that.

“I could get to work on the ballroom again today, Ms. Waters,” Ed said.

Josie jerked and turned to look at him. “Oh, Ed! You scared me.”

“I snuck up on you like a ghost.” Ed smiled, the weathered lines around his eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, like Jedediah’s ghost.”

“I hope you’re not scared because of those rumors, they don’t mean nothing.”

“Well I certainly know that,” Josie said. “Even if half the town thinks a ghost killed Bob Biddeford.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Ed, if you got any work done in the conservatory, did you happen to tip over a plant?”

“No. I never got set up in there because you gave me the day off, then this morning I heard the ballroom had been cleared by the cops.” Ed’s gaze drifted to Nero and Marlowe. “Must’ve been those cats, because I certainly would have no reason to be in there.”

Josie frowned at them and Nero’s spirits sank. Though he wasn’t beholden to having the human like him, he still felt the need to be accepted by her. Though he considered Millie to be his real human, Josie was the one he had now, and her disapproval cut deeply. Besides, they weren’t the ones who made the mess. At least, not that time. Just another example of Josie misinterpreting their communications. He looked at Ed suspiciously, he was certain the old man had been in the conservatory, but why would he lie to Josie about it? He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Ed. But right now he had more important things to do.

“Bad kitties. I expect you not to do that anymore.”

Marlowe swished her tail and looked at Nero. “How do you like that? She thinks we made that mess.”

“Yeah. Well if she doesn’t know what’s good for her, we’re gonna have to show her what’s good for her.”

Nero took the opportunity to hop up on the counter while Josie was distracted by talking to Ed. He pushed gently at the dishes. He didn’t want to push too hard lest they fall off onto the floor and smash. Some of them were dishes that Millie had collected for the guesthouse and he couldn’t bear to see them in pieces on the floor. Somehow, he needed to get Josie thinking along the right lines.

“I’ve just taken a quiche out of the oven.” Josie gestured toward the steaming pie plate on the counter. “I was about to cut pieces for the serving tray if you’d like one.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ed came into the kitchen and Josie turned her back, not even watching Nero’s attempts at communication.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Movement outside the window caught Nero’s eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help you?” I asked Earl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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