“So, where have you been?” Marlowe asked. “I mean, you’ve been dead for three hundred years, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Then why pop up now? You weren’t here a few weeks ago.”
“I’ve been inside a wall, in case you didn’t know. My spirit was just kind of hanging there in limbo. Only once my skeleton was freed was I able to roam about. It’s taken me a while to get my bearings, though. I’ve been trying to communicate with you two but haven’t been successful until now.”
Nero nodded and watched as Jed floated about the room taking in the flooring, moldings, windows. Could Jed have communicated with Madame Zenda and not remembered? Perhaps she’d seen him floating around and was overly optimistic about their communication tonight. Or was she actually making that up, not knowing Jed’s ghost really was around?
“So, you haven’t communicated with anyone but us?”
“Nope. You’re actually the first creatures that can see me. Guess my manifesting skills need work. I’ve been having fun messing with people though.”
“Messing with them?” Marlowe asked.
“Yeah, I figured out how to push things off tables and such. I can’t actually pick anything up, but the pushing off has been fun. Makes everyone jump.”
Nero raised a brow at him. “Did you push the salt shaker off the counter the other day?”
Nero had thought he’d sensed something a couple of days ago when they’d been helping Josie prepare breakfast. He’d been up on the counter looking out the window, where he wasn’t supposed to be, when his hair stood on end and suddenly the salt shaker slipped off the counter and smashed on the floor. Josie hadn’t been happy about that and had scolded him.
“Yep,” Jed said proudly.
“Thanks a lot. I got blamed for that.” Nero was more upset that he hadn’t known a ghost was present than getting in trouble with Josie. Then again, ghosts could be cagey and if their manifestation skills were lacking, it would be hard to sense them.
“Sorry about that.” Jed really did look repentant. “Anyway, I’ve been spending most of my time in the attic. There’s an area way in the back with a trunk that has some of my stuff in it. Feels kind of comforting and familiar, though I’m a little offended that it was shoved way in the back.”
“A lot of people have lived here since your day,” Marlowe said.
“I guess you’re right.” Jed looked around the room again. “Lots of changes. I’d like to see the old place get fixed up again. But on the other hand, I feel like I should move on to the nether regions. Wherever that is.”
Nero nodded sagely. “The spiritual plane. It’s where you will be most fulfilled.”
“Whatever you say. Any idea how I get there?”
“Something must be holding you here,” Nero said. “Say, do you know how you ended up inside the wall?”
“Nope. No idea. I just remember bringing my treasure back from Europe and next thing I knew it was darkness for three centuries.”
“Wait! There really is treasure?” Marlowe’s eyes glowed with excitement.
Jed nodded. “At least there was. Though it could be gone by now. As you said, a lot of time has gone by.”
“And you were murdered,” Nero said. That much had been obvious when they’d found the skeleton. If it hadn’t been the crack in the skull that gave it away, it was the fact that a person couldn’t very well wall themselves up from the inside. “The treasure could have been the reason, in which case you’re right that it’s long gone. But that could be your unresolved issue.”
“You mean I can’t move on until I figure out who killed me?”
Nero wasn’t exactly sure about that. It seemed like that’s what most ghosts who were stuck on this plane wanted, but he supposed each case was different. “It can’t hurt.”
“Too bad Madame Zenda really couldn’t solve the murder, but even if she could talk to me, I wouldn’t be able to tell her who killed me,” Jed said.
“That’s too bad. We’ll have to figure out another way to find out who killed you.” Nero loved a good investigation, even if the killer was long dead, but he had another motive for helping Jed. He didn’t want the old ghost hanging around any longer than necessary. Lingering ghosts could be a nuisance and he liked things the way they were. He knew that as time went on and Jed got bored, his antics might not be as innocent as pushing things off tables. Best to help him move on to where he belonged.
“Yeah, but there’s one good thing about Madame Zenda being a kook. It means that death card she pulled up is meaningless. That had me worried,” Marlowe said. “But now that we know she’s a fake, we won’t have to worry about another death at the guesthouse.”
Four
“You ask me, they’re all a bunch of fakes,” Millie whispered as she leaned against the door frame and peeked out into the hallway.
Mom nodded from her place at the table where she was eating a sliced-up apple. “Old and washed up.”
“I did a little bit of research on them and I heard that Victor Merino was accused of fraud back in Ohio.” Millie came back into the kitchen and rummaged in the new stainless-steel fridge. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse kitchen was a mixture of old and new. Old wooden cabinets painted a cheery yellow, golden pine floors so old that they were worn down in front of the sink and new appliances for cooking the delicious home-style breakfasts that the guesthouse had a reputation for.
Funny thing about the breakfasts; it turned out I wasn’t much good at cooking them. That’s why Millie kept coming over to help me out. I was learning, but I didn’t mind Millie pitching in, it lightened my workload and kept Mom and Millie out of trouble. Right now, she was rummaging up some ground meat for a homemade turkey sausage recipe she’d pulled from her trusty stack of weathered and food-stained recipe cards.
“What kind of fraud?” Mom asked.
“A woman accused him of billing her thousands of dollars to communicate with her dead husband. Victor argued that he really was talking to the deceased and he had told her things no one else knew about. Her son claimed it was all information he got by reading old newspapers and asking around.” Millie had opened a cabinet and was squinting up to the top shelf. Millie was only about five feet tall and I could see she had her eye on the old jadeite mixing bowl.
“Do you think any of them really can communicate with the dead?” I asked as I reached above Millie’s head for the bowl and handed it to her.
Millie laughed. “I doubt it.”
“Then why are they here?” Mom put her plate in the sink and ran some water over it.
Millie shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe they think Josie will pay them to talk to Jed. Or maybe they really are searching for treasure. Remember a few weeks ago when the whole town came out.”
How could I forget? The discovery of Jed’s skeleton last month had started a treasure hunt that involved most of the town. Never mind that legend had it that Jed had cursed anyone who stole his treasure, I guess people were more interested in money than they were afraid of whatever the curse might bring. “I hope they don’t start digging, I just got the grass to green up over all the holes again.”
“Why would Madame Zenda make a big announcement that Jed was going to talk to her?” Mom asked. “She seemed pretty sure of herself. Sounds to me like she really is going to talk to him. Maybe she isn’t a fake.”
I hoped she was. Images of the death card bubbled up again and I shuddered. “Maybe she figured if she announced it then the others would think she really was going to talk to him and give up?”
“It could be that. She’s trying to stake a claim. Now the others have to come up with something better or more interesting. I think each one of them might be trying to get a sensational story to boost their careers.” Millie cracked an egg and separated the white into a bowl. “I hear most of them have careers that are on a downswing.”
My gaze flicked to the window. “Maybe that’s why Anita Pendragon has been seen skulking around here.”
“She ha
s?” Millie stood on her tiptoes to look out the kitchen window. “Huh, I wonder if one of them called her so she could write a story on their supposed communication with Jed.”
“Getting in the papers would definitely boost someone’s career,” Mom added. “And I did notice that when Madame Zenda made her pronouncement she made sure that her voice carried out the window. I thought maybe Jed’s ghost was out there but now I wonder if she knew Anita was out there and wanted her to hear it.”
“She was very loud about it.” Millie whisked the egg white rapidly.
“Yeah, unfortunately Myron heard it too and he didn’t look very pleased,” Mom said.
I pulled out a chair and sat at the 1940s’ Formica table, worry gnawing at my gut. “I know. He’s worried that publicity about people talking to a ghost here could hurt the bookings at the guesthouse. What do you think?”
Mom made a face and looked at Millie, then bent down to pet Nero and Marlowe, who had trotted into the room and were sitting next to her looking at us as if listening to our conversation.
“Myron is a worrywart. I wouldn’t worry about anything he says.” Millie pulled a knife out of the rack and started chopping the onion and apple she’d laid out on the cutting board.
“Except if he really thinks that, maybe he won’t give me the next installment on the loan. Or worse, demand I pay what I’ve borrowed in full. I already invested everything I have and without the loan the guesthouse will go under,” I said. “Not to mention that I need the guesthouse to be fully booked to keep cash flowing.”
Millie put the chopped apple and onion into a bowl, tossed in some sage and nutmeg and then plopped the ground turkey in and mixed it all together, then formed them into small patties and put them in the fry pan. Soon the sounds of sizzling meat and the spicy smell of sausage permeated the air. Millie flipped the sausages and then turned to face me.
“Myron is a man and he’s easy enough to handle. I can tell he’s sweet on you so all you have to do is dazzle him on a date and he’ll give you the keys to the vault.”
At my obvious look of distaste she continued, “You don’t have to marry the guy, for crying out loud. But sometimes us businesswomen need to use every advantage. Lord knows I’ve had to many times.” She patted the sides of her hair and smoothed her apron over her hips. I didn’t dare ask for details.
Mom must have been still thinking about the treasure. “What I don’t understand is how each one thinks they are going to get the treasure without the others seeing them.”
Millie pursed her lips. “You know, that’s a good question. I’ve noticed they’re all following each other around.”
I’d noticed that too. “It’s like they don’t trust each other.”
“But if they are all fakes, then each would know the others can’t talk to Jed,” Mom said.
“Maybe they aren’t sure about who is a fake and who isn’t.” Millie bent down to pet Marlowe who was doing figure eights around her ankles. “I know some of them have crossed paths before from what I read about them. Except Gail, she seems to have kept a low profile.”
The cats had once been Millie’s, but since she couldn’t have pets at the senior housing complex where she lived, she’d made keeping the cats a stipulation for the sale of the guesthouse. At first, I hadn’t been too sure, I’d never had a cat before, but I had to admit they were growing on me. As if sensing my thoughts, Marlowe turned her green gaze on me, eliciting all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings. Okay, I admit it, I was getting really attached to them, not to mention that they might have saved my bacon a few times in the previous murder investigations.
“Or maybe their whole goal is not to dig up the treasure or talk to Jed, but to get publicity?” Mom said.
Thud!
We jerked our heads in the direction of the sound to see a cookbook lying on the floor. The recipes, which had been torn from magazines and stuffed inside, spilled out. Millie walked over and bent down. “Here’s that apple strudel recipe I was looking for!”
Mom glanced over at it. “Huh, guess Nero must’ve pushed that off.”
Merow! Nero caterwauled from the other side of the room, then pranced over to the book, sniffed, looked up at the ceiling and started doing figure eights in front of the book.
Millie frowned down at him. “See, he ran over to the other side of the room and now he’s pretending he didn’t push the book off.”
Meow! Nero’s intelligent gaze flicked from Millie to me to a spot near the window.
Meow. Marlowe joined him in the pacing and gazing.
“Josie, I think they might be hungry.” Millie gestured toward their empty bowls as she placed the recipes back in the book and put it in the bookcase.
Meeeeoww. Nero sounded exasperated, indicating that I’d better get those bowls filled right away before he started to make a racket.
Millie straightened. “Something’s fishy about this Madame Zenda character. I think we need to set our sleuthing skills to determine what she’s up to. I don’t like anyone taking advantage of the legends here at the guesthouse for their own gain.”
Millie’s words set off my internal alarm bells. She and Mom were known to go a bit to the extreme and get into trouble. I didn’t need them doing anything that would bother the guests and might result in a bad review on Yelp.
“Just how will you do that?”
Millie shrugged. “I suppose we’ll do some stealth detecting and find out what her angle is. Maybe follow her and see if she really does communicate with Jed.”
“Good idea.” Mom pushed up from the table. “Let’s go get our black outfits and we’ll come back later tonight. Should we get our hair done?”
Millie patted the sides of her hair. “Might be a good idea. If we expose her as a fraud we might be on TV.”
They started toward the door, and Millie threw a backward glance at the stove. “Josie don’t forget to watch the sausage. Cook until they are no longer pink and then drain them on a paper towel.”
“Will do.” They left and I turned my attention to the cats. “I don’t think this is going to end well.”
Meewoo. I was pretty sure that was Nero’s way of voicing his agreement.
Meooup. Marlowe chimed in.
I was glad they agreed with me, but the way they were still skulking around the bookcase instead of rushing to their food bowls made me uneasy. Typically food was their main priority. Then again, sometimes they delighted in doing the opposite of what I thought they would do, maybe this was one of those times.
Five
“See? I got in trouble for that cookbook.” Nero glanced up at Jed. At least the ghost looked contrite. Some of them could be downright unrepentant about their mischievous antics, but Jed seemed to be a kind spirit. Even so, Nero still hoped he didn’t hang around the guesthouse for any length of time.
“Sorry ’bout that, I was trying to get the attention of the pretty redhead.”
“Josie?” Marlowe’s eyes slanted as she looked up at the human.
Nero supposed Josie was kind of pretty. The coppery-red color of her hair was unusual and he liked that she didn’t wear a lot of smelly makeup. Her greenish eyes, though not nearly as bright or luminescent as a cat’s, were a good match for her fair coloring. He liked that she wasn’t boney. Not that she was fat, but she had a bit of meat on her and Nero preferred his humans to have some padding because it made them more comfortable to lie on. But, best of all, she had a kind heart. Even if she was a little slow to catch on.
“I don’t think you’ll get her attention,” Marlowe said. “She’s not very advanced when it comes to communication with those other than her own kind.”
“Well, to be fair, most humans can’t see ghosts like we can,” Nero said in defense of Josie. He’d been unsure about her when she’d first come to the guesthouse, but Millie had advised him to give her a chance and now he was starting to grow fond of her.
“True.” Marlowe licked her paw and washed behind her ear. “What about our current gu
ests? They all claim to be able to speak with spirits.”
“So far none of them actually have,” Jed said absently as his gaze flicked about the room. “Look at these new-fangled contraptions.”
Nero glanced at Marlowe. New-fangled? While the stainless-steel appliances were a fairly recent upgrade, it was clear that Jed hadn’t been keeping up with the times.
Josie opened the fridge and put the ingredients Millie had left on the counter away. The ghost’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “Is that an icebox?”
“Yep.” Nero swished his tail.
“Where’s the ice?”
“Don’t need any. Modern technology keeps it cold,” Nero said.
“Go figure.” Jed tore his eyes from the fridge. “I’m glad to see that people are taking care of the place, but it looks like Josie might be in a little over her head. The house still needs a lot of work. I sure wish I could help her out.”
“Josie’s working on it. Myron gave her a loan so she can speed things up,” Nero said.
Jed’s eyes narrowed. “Myron? Is that that fancy-dan guy who came over earlier?”
“Yeah, he thinks he’s the cat’s meow with his tailored suits, shiny cuff links and designer shoes,” Marlowe said.
“Didn’t much like him.” Jed toyed with a delicate teacup that sat in a saucer on the kitchen table. It teetered in one direction then the other.
“Hey, don’t shove that on the floor, it’s from Millie’s great-great-grandmother’s Royal Albert china set,” Nero said.
Jed snatched his hand away. “Sorry. Can’t move it that far anyway. Try as I might I can only jiggle and wiggle things. I can shove them off if they are on the edge but that’s about it. Maybe I just need more practice.”
Nero hoped not. The last thing he wanted was for objects to fall to the floor repeatedly. Could be off-putting for the guests. Jed glanced at Josie wistfully. “I sure wish I could help her out.”
If Nero wasn’t mistaken, the ghost might be developing a crush on Josie. He’d seen that look before. Like one time when his feline friend Harry had a crush on that sleek white Persian with the blue eyes. He suppressed a sigh. Good thing Josie appeared incapable of seeing Jed. Ghost to human relationships never worked out.
A Purrfect Alibi: A pawsitively gripping cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 3) Page 3