“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 you were at the antiques store,” Mom said.
“So what if I was?” Esther tugged the envelope back into her possession.
“You lied about it and that 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.
“Well?” Millie looked at me expectantly.
“I’m not sure. This is a photocopy of an old journal from when the bank was founded.” I glanced over at Esther. She seemed resigned now, sitting back in her seat, no longer trying to get the papers back. Apparently she was too dignified to run now that we were about to prove why she’d kill Madame Zenda. If only I could figure out what this paper had to do with her plan and tie it into the murder…
I handed the paper to Millie and looked at the next one. It was a list of old coins similar to the ones I’d seen at the bank display. It was also in Thomas Remington’s hand and there was quite an extensive list. The bank sold antique coins, but I doubted they would part with any of the original coins Thomas had brought. Did the coins somehow figure into the murder?
“Ha! Look at that. I guess old Thomas Remington had perfect timing.” Millie glanced up from the first paper as I handed her the second.
“Why is that?” Mom had come to stand behind Millie and was looking over her shoulder. Esther was still seated but now she was looking into her crystal ball as if mesmerized. The cats were sitting on the table watching us.
I was barely listening to Mom and Millie’s conversation, my brain busy trying to make sense of all this as I scanned the third sheet, which appeared to be an accounting of old Remington family heirlooms and their value. It was almost like a receipt.
“Well, he opened the bank the same year Jedediah Biddeford was determined to be missing in Europe. He would have been out of a job if he hadn’t done that.” Millie reached for the next sheet and I handed it over.
The final sheet was the etching of the Oyster Cove guesthouse with Jed. He was wearing the shoes with the buckle. His wife stood next to him and children and staff to the side. Now why did that keep cropping up? I looked up at Esther, our eyes locking. Suddenly I knew what Esther had been up to. We’d made a huge mistake.
Millie snatched the last piece of paper out of my hand, pointed to it and addressed Esther. “Now there! This proves you’re the killer!”
“Yeah!” Mom agreed, then frowned and looked at me. “Err… could you explain just how it does that?”
“It doesn’t—”
Thunk!
A heavy onyx bookend toppled to the floor from the second shelf of the bookcase cutting off my words. Good thing it landed on the rug, might have made a dent in the floor otherwise.
“What?” Millie wore an expression of quizzical disappointment.
Meooo!
Merooolow!
Meruuuus!
The cats screeched as they bolted into the hallway. I could hear their footsteps racing up the stairs.
Realizing they were headed to the attic, I shot out of my seat. “I know who killed Madame Zenda and it wasn’t Esther. We better hurry or there may be another murder!”
We’d reached the doorway when the lights went out, stopping us cold. That was odd, there was no storm, why would the power go out?
Of course! It was the killer. We’d left our flashlights in the kitchen. Did we have time to get them?
And that’s when we heard the scream.
Twenty-Six
The scream left no doubt that there was no time to fumble around for the flashlights we’d left in the kitchen, so we headed straight for the stairs. By now my eyes had become accustomed somewhat to the dark and the moon shining through the windows helped, not to mention the meows of the cats who were just ahead of us. Lucky thing I didn’t have to try to fit the key into the lock. Then again, if I’d locked the door like I was meant to, I supposed we wouldn’t be running up here to stop a murder.
As we rushed up the stairs, noises from above quickened our steps. The moonlight had splashed in through the windows in the main house, but windows were sparse in the attic, so it was nearly pitch black. Muffled sounds came from the very far end where I’d seen Jedediah Biddeford’s trunk.
“Ooof… Arghhh…”
Not ghostly noises this time, these were coming from a human.
Mew. Nero’s meow was soft but insistent, as if he knew it was urgent for us to move toward the sounds but that we might not want to let the killer know we were there.
I focused on the direction of the noise, I was sure it was the back corner now, but getting there was another story. The attic was full of piled up cast-offs and
it was too dark for me to see the path. Taking the wrong one might be off course and I’d be too late.
I started in one direction, but then felt a cold resistance and backtracked.
“Oghhhh…”
Oh no, that didn’t sound good. We were making slow progress; a few times I’d taken a step down the wrong path but had felt an odd cold resistance blocking me and then turned around.
Meroo! Marlowe didn’t need to tell me we were almost there, I could see the dark shadow of a person moving about as if wrestling something that was on the floor below them. Then a sickening thud. “Aghshhhh…”
“Hold it right there. We have you covered!” Millie shouted from behind me.
“Look out… gaghhh… gun!” A man’s voice came from the floor. Was he warning us or was this some kind of trick?
Esther trotted up behind us catching her breath beside me. “Wait, that sounded like Victor. I thought he was the killer!”
“No, it must be Anita!” Mom said. “I knew she was up to no good.”
They were both wrong. “I’m afraid not, it’s—”
“Shut up or I’ll shoot!” a voice shouted. “It’s unfortunate you’re all here. Now I’ll need to think up a new plan.”
“Guess it’s not Anita. Is there really a gun?” Mom whispered. “Maybe they’re bluffing.”
“And what is Victor doing on the floor?” Esther asked.
“I think he’s tied up,” Mom said.
“I wish I could see.” Millie craned her neck forward beside me. “We need to surround him then someone can get him from behind.”
Millie’s idea about surrounding the killer was a good one, but now that my eyes were getting used to the low level of light, I could see that wouldn’t be possible. He was in the corner, backed up against a tall bureau that had boxes piled high. Beside that, other pieces of furniture were jammed in all the way to the walls. There would be no way to get behind there easily.
“Maybe someone should go down and get the flashlights,” Mom whispered. “I can sneak back without him noticing in the dark.”
“Quiet, all of you!” The killer waved something in the air. A gun, or was it a bluff? “Get up against those bureaus, spread out so I can see all of you. Wouldn’t do to have one of you sneaking off now.”
My mind was racing—we had to come up with a way to distract him so we could overpower him. Maybe if I got him talking, he’d get distracted and it would give me time to think. “You won’t get way with this, M—”
Zzzzpt!
The lights came on, temporarily blinding me. I blinked, trying to keep my eyes on the gun. Maybe now I could rush the killer and…
“Myron Remington!” Millie gasped, looking from Myron to me. “Did you know it was him, Josie?”
Well, at least I was right about that. Myron was the killer. Too bad Victor was also right… Myron had a gun and it was pointed at us.
Myron looked dazed and a little spooked. “Who turned the lights on?” He glanced around the room as if expecting some sort of specter to appear. Too bad he didn’t loosen his grip on the gun.
On the floor in front of Myron lay Victor. He was tied up and he must have passed out… at least I hoped he was only passed out and not dead. The sound of someone gasping behind us drew our attention.
Gail stood behind Millie, looking over her shoulder at Victor on the floor. “I heard the noises up here. Did you capture Victor?”
“No, silly.” Mom turned her so she could see Myron with his gun. “Myron did. He’s the killer.”
Gail frowned. “Victor doesn’t look dead.”
“He’s not,” Myron snapped. “At least not yet. I guess you can all go together now. I won’t say I regret that. You’re all too nosey for your own good.”
Merooo! Nero sounded indignant on our behalf.
Mewooo! Marlowe agreed.
The cats were pacing around in front of Myron. I wasn’t sure if they had a plan, but I certainly hoped so.
“You might as well give up now, Myron. There are many of us and just one of you.” I gestured to our little group now huddled against a large mahogany server pushed against the wall.
“Yeah but I have the gun.” Myron’s lips curved in a sinister smile. Apparently he’d recovered from his shock of the lights coming on. I would have preferred they stayed out, at least that way some of us would have a chance of getting away, but now he could clearly see all of us.
I barely heard what Myron was saying as I was busy wondering how we could get around behind him. Maybe Victor would wake up and trip him? I couldn’t count on that and now with the lights on he’d see if one of us broke from the group and tried to slip between the furniture to the back. Where was Flora when you needed her? Last time we’d gotten ourselves into a predicament like this, she’d snuck up from behind and clobbered the killer.
“Okay then, a little change in plans might be good.” Myron looked confident in his new plan. “Hmm… I think I’ll use Gail’s vendetta against Victor here.” Myron kicked Victor who let out a miserable groan.
“What do you mean?” Gail asked.
“Don’t think I don’t know about that,” Myron said. “It’s too bad that everyone will think that you became so obsessed with him that you burned down the guesthouse.”
Millie’s hands flew to her face and she gasped. The cats meowed. I felt a little disturbed at the prospect myself. Not just that it was my home and how I made my living, I was getting quite attached to the place.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Myron continued. “It won’t be a total loss… except for all of you perishing during the fire. I’ll put a nice big hotel or some condos here. I did notice a good spot for a pool where that old barn is.”
So he had been scoping out the grounds! Though I guessed that was only a secondary reason for him being out in the yard earlier. “But that’s not what you were doing outside earlier today, is it?”
Myron nodded at me as if approving of my skills of deduction. “Nah. I guess I can tell you now since you won’t be able to tell anyone. I was hiding the speakers that made the ghostly noises.”
“Why?” Millie asked. “I thought you didn’t want ghosts to be associated with the guesthouse?”
Myron narrowed his gaze on Millie. “Ha! That’s where you got it wrong. I’m not afraid of ghosts.”
Esther stepped out of our little circle toward Myron. “It won’t work, Myron… I told the police the truth.”
Myron stared at her as if trying to decide whether or not to believe her.
“That’s right. I have the proof of what really happened, and I got it from your very own bank.” She stood a few feet from him, hands on her hips. Apparently she didn’t care that the gun was pointed directly at her. “I did it for Jed.”
The cats seemed agitated at this pronouncement and paced around her feet as if trying to protect her.
“Liar!” The gun wavered in Myron’s hand. “The bank tellers only said that Victor was there getting old coins. He was planning on putting on quite a show.”
“Figures,” Gail muttered.
Esther shook her head. “Nope. I was there too and now I know the truth.”
“I doubt that,” Myron scoffed, but he was starting to look nervous.
“What truth?” Millie whispered. “How is Myron mixed up in this?”
“The papers…” I whispered to Mom and Millie.
“Papers?” Millie asked.
“The ones Esther had from the bank. You gave me the clue, Millie. You said it was a good thing that Thomas Remington opened the bank when he did because he would have been out of a job with Jed’s death.”
“Yeah, but how could a butler afford—” Millie’s eyes widened. “Oh… the treasure!”
“What are you whispering about back there?” Myron demanded.
“Esther’s right,” I said. “We know the truth about the bank. It’s no use. Let us go and the police will go easier on you.” I wasn’t really sure if that was true. In fact, I hoped they wouldn�
��t go easier on him, but I always heard them say that on TV and it sounded good.
Myron made a face. “I was afraid this would happen. You and your mother and Millie are so nosey. What papers are you talking about?”
“Turns out your pride was your downfall,” Millie said. “You had to display all the history of the bank and old Thomas’ journal papers. That’s how I figured it out. The timing wasn’t right for him to raise that much money!”
I frowned at Millie. Did she just say that she’d figured it out? I guess it wouldn’t matter much who actually figured it out if we didn’t find a way to get out of this.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Myron asked. “Those papers don’t prove anything and, since no one else will think to look at them, I don’t think anyone else will put two and two together.”
“Not just the papers,” I said. I didn’t want Myron getting any more confident than he already was. The best course of action was to get him feeling uncertain and then he’d be distracted and we could use that to our advantage. “It was also that pen.”
He turned the gun toward me. “Pen?”
“Yeah, the carved ivory pen you left here that day you viewed Ed’s work on the ballroom. You had it retrofitted for modern use by Agnes Withington, didn’t you?”
“It’s an antique and I wanted it to be of use. So what?”
“Yes, it is an antique. In fact, I saw it in an old etching, but it wasn’t Thomas Remington who was using it. It was Jedediah Biddeford. So it made me wonder… how did the pen come into your possession?”
“Thomas must have stolen it!” Mom said.
“Yep, and if he stole that, he probably stole Jed’s fancy shoes with the buckles too. Isn’t that right, Myron.”
Myron’s confidence was faltering. This was my chance! Millie could take it from here, so I whispered in her ear. “Cover me and keep him talking.”
Millie maneuvered herself in front of me and I backed up, slowly receding into the dim shadows. Myron was too distracted to notice when I slipped behind the server, crouching low so he wouldn’t see me making my way to circle around behind him.
“So what if Thomas stole some things from Jed? He deserved them, working as a butler all those years for a pittance. He didn’t have any nice clothes and he needed to look presentable when he opened the bank.”
A Purrfect Alibi: A pawsitively gripping cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 3) Page 17