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

Three

“Who says he never made it to Europe? Maybe this happened when he got back from Europe,” Mom whispered to Millie and me in the hall after the sheriff, Seth, had kicked us out of the room.

Millie nodded. “Good point, Rose. But either way, whoever did it is long gone. Still, maybe we could do some research and come up with a list of possible suspects.”

“Might not be very much fun though if we can’t confront the culprit and see him arrested,” Mom said as she and Millie slowed to a crawl. Apparently, they couldn’t walk fast while their minds were full of the possibility of a new investigation.

I sped ahead and continued down the hallway. The Biddefords had all disappeared and I felt it was my duty to make sure they weren’t shaken by these new events. Whoever was in the wall was likely a relative… or had been murdered by one.

I heard a murmur of conversation from the dining room and headed in that direction. The Biddefords were there, but they weren’t sitting in shocked silence contemplating their lost ancestor as I’d imagined. They were scarfing up the remains of the breakfast. There were no sniffles, or muted grieving tones. The room was abuzz with excitement.

“I’ll tell you exactly what this means,” Doris said. “This means that Jedediah really did bury that treasure.”

“I thought the curse was that he would come back to enact some revenge on anyone who messed with his treasure. Doesn’t seem like he came back to me. Looks like he’d been there the whole time.” Paula strolled along the server looking at what was left of breakfast. She stopped in front of the pumpkin bread and my heart leapt. Would she cut a piece? I wondered if the excessive drinking had dulled her pallet. Then again, that might be a good thing if she was going to eat my pumpkin bread.

Doris pinched off a piece of bacon and fed it to Nero, who was skulking around under the table. Darn cat, I’d told him not to go in the dining room when guests were eating. They never listened. I was sure Marlowe wasn’t far behind either. Yep, her tail was sticking out from under Earl’s chair.

“Nonsense! You know how those old curses are, they get all mixed up because they’re handed down generation to generation. It’s like that game where you whisper in each other’s ears and by the time it gets to the end, it’s not even close to what it was when it started. The specifics of the curse might have been different too. But there’s one thing for sure. He did come back—seeing as his skeleton was found in the wall,” Doris said.

Her children looked at her with a mixture of doubt and greed in their eyes.

Paula picked up a knife, her hand hovering over the loaf. I held my breath.

“Did anyone try a piece of this?” Paula bent down and sniffed. She eyed the loaf as if it were trying to trick her, then put the knife down.

No one answered her.

“Maybe I’ll just have some more eggs.” She scooped some onto a plate and returned to her seat.

“But now what does it mean? If he came back doesn’t that mean someone took his treasure? And how, exactly, will he get revenge?” Arlene asked.

“Maybe the opening of the wall has released his ghost,” Henry answered, eyes scanning the edges of the room, no doubt looking for Jed’s spirit. Would tourists want to stay in a haunted guesthouse or was that off-putting to most? Hopefully this would all be cleared up before word got out and I had to find out firsthand if having a ghost would be bad for business.

Mom and Millie had come in behind me, but the Biddefords were too engrossed in their conversation to notice us.

“If someone did take his treasure, that person is long dead, so good luck to old Jed for getting his revenge.” Earl popped a grape into his mouth.

“How do you know he even made it to Europe?” Arlene asked.

“He must have, because I remember seeing family letters he sent from overseas.” Bob poured a cup of coffee and slurped.

“But what about those rumors that he never came back? Wouldn’t people have noticed that he did?” Carla asked.

“I know!” Doris fed a scrap of bacon to Marlowe this time. “I bet you he kept it a secret because he had the treasure. He didn’t want anyone to know he was back because he wanted time to bury it.”

“But then someone came in and bashed him over the head and buried him in the wall!” Bob sounded almost gleeful.

“Yeah, but the question is, did he bury the treasure first or did the killer get it?” Paula asked.

Her question was met with silence as they contemplated this.

“I bet he buried it first. If he hadn’t buried it, then surely the family records would have shown someone spending a lot of money.” Earl turned to Doris. “There weren’t any rumors about a big influx of money back during that time, were there?”

Doris pressed her lips together. “Well that was a bit before my time, but I don’t remember anything about sudden wealth. If someone found it, they could have doled it out a little bit at a time. The family originally had a lot of money from Jed’s spice import business, but since future generations had to sell off the house, I’m gonna assume there was no treasure chest of riches found.”

Paula’s eyes lit up. “It could still be buried here.”

“Yeah, but where?” Bob glanced out the window.

“Maybe he didn’t bury it, maybe he hid it in the house somewhere?” Henry said.

Doris scowled at him as if he were dense. “I hope not. Most of the original structure from Jed’s time—aside from that one ballroom wall where he has been found—has been torn down and renovated. I remember my grandfather showing me that the only part that hadn’t been touched from the old house was that wall where Jed’s skeleton was. And there was no treasure in the wall with him, so if it was hidden somewhere else in the house someone would have found it by now.”

“Mom’s right,” Earl said. “Besides, I think I remember the curse having something to do with haunting anyone who dug up the treasure—he must have intended to bury it. Our best bet is to look on the grounds.”

“So my question still stands, where on the grounds?” Bob said.

“I wonder if he left a map?” Arlene asked.

Earl put his arm around her. “That’s a good question, honey. You’re always thinking. Where would he have left it?”

“Hopefully not hidden in the house otherwise that’s gone too,” Doris said.

“Maybe he had it on him?” Paula suggested.

“In the wall?” Earl glanced toward the hallway. “We should go look.”

“Can’t,” Doris said. “The police are in there now. Besides, I looked in there pretty good and didn’t see anything but that ring and a bunch of bones. We all got there together so no one would have had time to take the map out without the rest of us seeing them do it.”

“Can we look in any of the family documents?” Bob asked Doris. “Did Grandpa Biddeford ever mention anything about a map?”

“He never mentioned anything to me.” Doris waved her hands. “You can look if you want. I’m not gonna waste my time looking for some map.”

“What if someone did find out and never said anything.” Carla tapped her fork on her empty plate. “There might not even be any treasure.”

“True, but what if it wasn’t found… then it could still be out there.” Doris gestured toward the window.

“Don’t any of you care who killed him?” I asked. I’d walked to the buffet and was bravely cutting into the pumpkin bread. One didn’t have to be a master chef to see it was a little dry. I’d have to work on that recipe, but for now copious amounts of butter should make it palatable.

The conversation stopped and they all looked at me, then at each other. Doris shook her head.

“Nah! None of us knew him and, besides, the killer is long dead. Whoever did it got what’s coming to him. That’s old news. What’s new news is the treasure, and I’m fixin’ to be the one who digs it up, my business depends on it!” She pushed up from the table and hurried out of the room.

“Hey, where’s she going?” Arlene asked.

Earl leapt from his chair and pulled Arlene up with him. “My guess is to scout out likely spots.”

Bob threw down his napkin and followed them out of the room.

Carla jumped up. “Come on, Henry. We’re not letting them get a head start!”

Paula remained seated at the table alone. She looked shell-shocked. After a few beats, she stumbled up from the chair and spun in the direction of the door. “Hey, wait for me!”

Meow.

Marlowe and Nero were at my feet looking up at me, probably waiting for a crumb of pumpkin bread to fall. Unlike most cats, these two would eat anything.

“Yeah sure, now that everyone is gone, you’re looking to me for food? I thought I told you two not to come in here when the guests were eating.”

Millie scooped Nero up in her arms.

“See they never listen to me.” I examined the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. I’d put so much butter on it, it looked like frosting. Surely something with that much butter couldn’t taste bad.

“Now, dear,” Millie clucked. “Cats have their own rules. You have to listen to them not the other way around.” She picked a dried leaf from Nero’s fur. “Have they been digging in the plants? Naughty. Naughty.”

Nero purred and rubbed his cheek against Millie’s while casting a see-that’s-how-you-treat-me look in my direction.

I took a tentative bite. Just as I suspected, it was dry and tasted like sawdust.

“Josie, I hope you’ve been watering those plants.” Millie put Nero down and picked up Marlowe.

“I have,” I managed to choke out while trying to swallow the pumpkin bread. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about the gigantic potted trees that Millie had bought at a yard sale last week. She said they’d go perfectly in the conservatory, which they would have if the room was anywhere near being done. Right now it was as dilapidated as the ballroom. I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth so I accepted them and put them in the room near one of the windows that wasn’t boarded up. Hopefully they weren’t as dried up and dead as the skeleton.

Millie looked at the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. “Is that what you’re making for the town celebration?” She must have noticed I was trying, unsuccessfully, to choke down that one little bite.

“It was a recipe I tried. It needs some work,” I admitted.

“Looks dry. Maybe add some more oil.” Millie was a whiz at baking. She’d generously left her recipes here when I’d bought the guesthouse. Lucky thing for me she also kept popping in to bake too. If it wasn’t for Millie the guests might have starved. Though I was a tad bit insulted she thought I couldn’t handle the cooking, I had to admit she was right.

“I can help you on that later.” Millie glanced toward the hallway. “Once the police are done. Hopefully Mike will tell us what they said.”

“Mike?” I picked a crumb off the pumpkin bread and dropped it on my tongue. Even that was dry. “I thought he left. I mean, doesn’t he have building-inspector business to tend to?”

Mom and Millie exchanged a look.

“So, you are interested!” Millie sounded as if she’d just won the lottery.

“No,” I said. “I just thought he had left.”

“He’s in the crime-scene room making sure Seth doesn’t damage anything,” Millie said.

That figured. I was willing to bet Mike was hanging around for more reasons than to make sure nothing got damaged. He’d been an investigator in the navy and, judging by his actions when we’d found the last body, he still couldn’t resist an investigation. How he’d ended up a handyman turned building inspector was anyone’s guess. He’d told me it was because he liked to work with his hands, though I suspected at the time that that statement had a double meaning.

Thoughts of the last investigation reminded me of how annoying Mike could be. He’d insinuated that I had no business investigating to clear my own name and practically ordered me to stop looking for the killer. The nerve!

Good thing I had no interest in getting to the bottom of this skeleton case. He could have it.

“If you thought he left, you must have been thinking of him,” Mom said in that tone that indicated she knew my mind better than I did. “I don’t blame you. He’s a hottie. And he’s a very nice boy.”

“Just because you made a bad choice for your last husband doesn’t mean you can’t try again,” Millie added.

My “bad choice” was the other reason I’d come back to Oyster Cove. No wonder I was no good at cooking. My ex-husband was a semi-famous chef, so naturally he’d done all the cooking when we were married. He’d also done a lot of other things that I won’t bore you with. The divorce was not amicable and the only good thing that came from that marriage was my daughter, Emma. It had all turned out for the best though. I was finding a new freedom, and, by running the guesthouse, learning I was capable and self-sufficient. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me or tell me what to do, especially not Mike Sullivan.

“What do you make of all this Jedediah Biddeford business?” I changed the subject.

“Notsh oroamnl oar,” my mom mumbled. While we’d been talking about my love life, she’d grabbed a plate and helped herself to the buffet.

“Huh?”

“She said she’s not sure she believes in the curse,” Millie translated.

“Yeah me either,” I said. “But still there is a skeleton in the wall.”

“Right. And that means shenanigans,” Millie said.

Mom washed down her bacon with a swig of juice. “He must have been killed for a reason.”

“Maybe nothing to do with treasure, though,” I said.

“Of course, the mere notion of treasure here on the property is ridiculous,” Millie said softly as she cast a wistful glance out the window.

“If there was one, I’m sure we’d have heard about it by now.” I tossed the rest of my pumpkin bread onto one of the dishes and started clearing the table.

“Or someone would have dug it up. Right, Rose?” Millie asked my mother.

“Right.” Mom stuffed the last bit of food in her mouth and headed toward the door. “But just the same, I want to be prepared.”

“Where are you going?” I stacked more dirty dishes on top of each other.

“Why, down to Ace Hardware to buy a shovel, of course,” Mom called over her shoulder. “Hurry, Millie. A little digging will be good exercise and you never know what we might find!”