‘No one inside the guesthouse has a motive…. Well, except maybe Tina.’ Mom turned to me. ‘Didn’t Ava say she saw Tina sneaking out of Charles’s room?’
I glanced at Seth. He didn’t look surprised. Could he have known about Tina and Charles’ affair already? Maybe I wasn’t giving him enough credit. ‘She did. And Stella Dumont saw her down at the sleazy motel.’
‘Maybe Tina and Tony were in on it together,’ Mom said.
Millie bit her bottom lip. ‘You know now that you mention it, didn’t we notice that Tina works for the culinary section of the paper? Is it possible she and Tony know each other?’
Mom slapped her forehead. ‘Of course! That’s it. This wasn’t about a bad review at all Seth was right about that. It was about a love triangle.’
‘Love triangle?’ Seth looked more confused than ever.
‘Yes!’ Mom said. ‘What if Tina was having an affair with both Charles and Tony? Tony found out, and came here and murdered Charles out of jealousy!’
‘That would explain why Tina was checking into that other motel. Maybe Stella really did see her. She didn’t want Charles to know she was having an affair with Tony,’ I said.
‘That makes perfect sense,’ Millie said. ‘And Tony would have to go to a hotel because his wife seems very jealous. Did you see the way she acted in the kitchen?’
I nodded vigorously. ‘And she also seemed suspicious of him. Like she suspected he was having an affair.’
‘That’s it then.’ Millie turned to Seth. ‘Are you going to make an arrest?’
‘That’s not really solid evidence,’ he said. ‘We like to have a few clues other than people’s say-so. Especially with your say-so is tainted.’
‘Tainted? How?’ Millie was indignant.
‘You guys are trying to get Josie off the suspect list,’ Seth said.
‘We are not!’ Mom said. ‘Well I mean, we are, but that’s cause Josie isn’t guilty.’
‘Seth Chamberlain you know these clues are good clues. This is a good working theory. Are you going to check it out or do you want me to never cook you a batch of snickerdoodles again?’ Millie asked.
Seth lips quirked in a smile and his eyes twinkled. ‘Fine. I’ll check them out. I suppose I could find out where they were the night of Charles’s death and see how well this Tina person knew him. But don’t expect anything to come of it.’
Thirteen
Flora hadn’t washed the dishes I left in the sink, so after Mom and Millie left, I got to work on those. Nero and Marlowe accompanied me to the kitchen and stood meowing at their food bowls. Nero looked like he was getting a little fat, but I still fed them some kibble.
I thought about the clues as I worked. The sound of Mike’s hammering three floors up was comforting. Even the cats’ meows and little crunches as they ate the kibble made me feel at home.
I should probably move their dishes out of the kitchen just in case Barbara Littlefield made an appearance. Actually, one good thing about having a murder at the guesthouse was that it seemed to be keeping her away. She wasn’t due to come and inspect anything until Mike was done with that room next week. I could move the cat bowls before then.
From my spot at the kitchen sink I could see the Smugglers Bay Inn below the dark storm clouds that had rolled in. This time there were no seagulls around. That must make Stella happy. Thinking of her made me realize I had really been hoping that she was the killer. Though Tony Murano did seem more like the type. I still had to wonder why Stella had been lurking around the guesthouse? Was she really here to see Mike?
If Tony really was the killer, was he really in cahoots with Tina? The thought of having an accomplice to murder right under my own roof turned my blood cold.
I contemplated asking Tina some leading questions that might trip her up so that she inadvertently confessed, but maybe that wasn’t very smart considering she might be a killer. The advancing storm would be a great backdrop for her to murder me. The sound of thunder could mask the bludgeoning. Maybe I’d better not. Besides, though her little red convertible was parked in the lot, I hadn’t seen her all afternoon so she must be ensconced in her room.
Just before I finished the dishes, Ava Grantham popped her head into the kitchen.
‘Oh, hi Josie, I was wondering if I could get some tea. This damp weather is getting into my old bones.’ She wrung her hands together.
‘Of course, why don’t you sit in the front parlor and I’ll bring some out.’
She nodded gratefully and headed off toward the front parlor while I boiled water, got out of selection of teabags and threw some pumpkin muffins into a basket with the butter.
Ava sat in the overstuffed chair looking out the window at the storm. She looked up when I entered. ‘I hope the storm passes over quickly.’
It was almost dark and the churning sea had a rough, ominous feel. Great ambience for a murder, I thought, but refrained from saying so. The last thing I needed was another one of those.
‘Hopefully it won’t be too bad.’ I put the tea and basket down in front of her.
‘Oh, you brought muffins! How lovely.’
The thought struck me that Ava had seemed to know an awful lot about what had gone on between Tina and Charles. Since I couldn’t really ask Tina, maybe Ava would have some insight. I picked out a muffin and buttered it while Ava sipped her tea.
‘Has there been any news on the murder case?’ Ava asked the question casually. Perhaps a little bit too casually? I looked up to see a glimmer of interest in her eye.
‘The police are still looking into it, but I may have found a little clue.’ I wasn’t going to tell Ava what I’d discovered, but I wanted to feel her out and see how willing she would be to talk.
‘Oh really?’ Ava watched me over the rose dotted rim of her china teacup.
‘Well, I don’t know much, but I heard it might have something to do with a jealous lover. And you said you saw Tina...’ I let my voice trail off.
‘Oh yes I did.’ Ava nodded. ‘Tina and Charles.’
‘And Charles was the type to fool around you say?’
‘Certainly. I’d seen it happen many, many times. But who would be jealous?’ she paused and then her eyes widened. ‘Oh? You think Charles had another lover and Tina killed him because she was jealous?’
Actually I hadn’t thought of it that way. But what if Ava was right? What if I had it backwards and the jealous lover wasn’t someone who was mad that Charles was fooling around with their woman, but rather someone who was angry that Charles was fooling around on them?
‘Or Tina had a lover that killed Charles. I guess either way, jealousy is a strong motivator,’ I said.
Ava nodded her head enthusiastically. ‘Yes, that is a very good theory. Are the police going to make an arrest?’
‘That I don’t know,’ I said.
Ava nibbled on a muffin and made a face. ‘Now that would be one for the columns. A love triangle murder.’
I frowned. Hopefully Ava wasn’t considering publishing a story about Charles’s murder.
‘Such a sad thing that people want to hear about murders and affairs now instead of balls and coming-out parties like in my day,’ Ava said.
‘People certainly have become ghoulish,’ I agreed.
Ava brushed the crumbs off her fingers and stood. ‘Well, I guess things never stay the same. I’m just glad the police are onto somebody. I hate to think of the killer just wandering around in here. Now that the tea has warmed me up, I think I’ll get my old bones under the comforters. Always get so tired once the sun goes down.’ She glanced out the window and then headed toward the front stairs.
She must’ve passed Flora because I heard her asking the maid to bring her an extra blanket. To my surprise Flora agreed and said she would be there in a few minutes. With the lack of work Flora did, I figured she would’ve told Ava she was clocking out, but she hadn’t. Maybe Flora wasn’t a total loss after all.
Flora came into the parlor and flo
pped down in the chair Ava had just vacated. ‘Dang guests, got me running all around.’ She glanced at the basket. ‘Oh muffins, don’t mind if I do.’
She plucked a muffin out and popped half of it into her mouth. ‘I’m exhausted. Changing all those beds is hard work and I also did some dusting and now I’ve got to get that blanket. You know the dusting is hard enough, even without all that cat hair.’ Her words were barely intelligible because she was mumbling around her food.
Suddenly I realized that if Flora changed the beds, she would know if Tina had been home the night Charles was killed.
‘It must be very difficult,’ I agreed, pushing the muffin basket closer since she’d already finished the one she’d started. ‘You must be glad you don’t have to change them all every day.’
She swallowed hard and frowned at me. ‘What are you getting at? Are you saying I don’t do my job every day?’
‘No not all. Just that if the beds haven’t been slept in…’
‘Yeah, that’s right. Why would I have to change the bed if it hadn’t been slept in? Did that little tart Tina complain? I don’t see any reason to change her bed if wasn’t slept in. Well I’ll tell you, she’s a fine one sneaking off to another hotel.’ She leaned back in her chair.
‘So Tina wasn’t here one night?’
‘No. And I’ll have you know. There’s no sense in changing the bedclothes if someone isn’t here. First of all, its work that doesn’t need to be done and second, it saves on electricity, hot water and laundry detergent. I mean, its bad enough I have to clean up straw and feathers and muck.’
‘Straw?’
‘Yes, those old people with the cameras. When I went in to clean up their room it was dirty with straw and twigs and feathers. Pigs!’
Nero and Marlowe had come into the room and jumped up on my lap. I absently petted them as I thought about Flora’s words. Straw, twigs and feathers sounded like nesting material. I knew they were birdwatchers but I had no idea they’d gotten close enough to the nests to have nesting material on them.
Thunder boomed in the distance and Flora jumped up.
‘Looks like the storm’s brewing and I aim to get home before the big rain starts.’ She pointed at her owlish eyes. ‘Can’t see very good with these old peepers anymore. I’ll just get that blanket to the old lady and be on my way.’
‘Okay, don’t worry about me, I’ll clean up in here.’ As if she would worry. The first rain drops splattered on the window, but I wasn’t paying attention to the weather. I was busy wondering what the Weatherbys had been up to and whether or not Seth Chamberlain had confronted Tony Murano.
Nero practically jumped out of his fur as thunder boomed in the distance. He snuggled further into Josie’s lap, enjoying the soft stroking of her fingers more than he cared to admit.
Marlowe kneaded Josie’s thigh. ‘I don’t like where this is going. Josie might be getting herself into a heap of trouble. She was asking Ava a lot of questions about Tina and Charles. She might be getting ready to interrogate a suspect.’
‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t confront the wrong person.’ Nero glanced at the basket of muffins. He wasn’t much of a muffin eater, but the butter on the other hand was quite delectable and enticing.
‘You think she’ll notice if we lick the butter?’ Marlowe echoed his thoughts.
‘Most likely.’ Nero glanced longingly at the bright yellow stick in the crystal dish. ‘I think we need to focus our attentions on making sure Josie doesn’t do anything rash.’
‘Yeah. Especially if the killer is around on a night like this.’ Marlowe shivered and glanced out the window.
‘Maybe we should sleep in the bed with her tonight?’ Nero tried to keep from quaking as another thunderclap boomed. ‘I mean for her comfort, of course, not for ours.’
‘We can try.’
‘Though of course you know what we must do,’ Nero said.
‘Of course. Try to sleep on her head and then only after she has shoved us away twenty-five times we can curl up beside her, but we must take up a sizable amount of space on the bed.’ Marlowe repeated what Nero had instructed her of early on.
Nero nodded. ‘You have learned much.’
Josie set Nero aside and he hissed at her to indicate that she should only do that when he wanted her to. She looked down at him. ‘When we were just getting along, now you hiss at me?’
Nero purred and put his head down and she patted him.
‘Now that’s better. I suppose I better figure out what to make for breakfast.’
Nero and Marlowe followed Josie into the kitchen and watched as she fussed around with the recipes.
‘We must stick to her like glue, she’s headstrong and may say the wrong thing to the wrong person,’ Nero said.
‘Agreed,’ Marlowe said.
Nero glanced out at the dark night, a grim feeling of foreboding coming over him. ‘And tonight especially, we must be alert. My seventh sense is telling me the killer may return to the scene of the crime, and if he does, we will have to be here to protect our human.’
Fourteen
I listened to the rain splatter against the windows and prayed the power wouldn’t go out while I pawed through the recipe file in search of something to make for breakfast the next morning. The sour cream coffee cake would be nice, a great comforting treat after a big stormy night. Where was the recipe?
Maybe it had gotten wedged somewhere when I dropped the file the other day. The cabinet door under the sink didn’t close right. Maybe it had fluttered inside and was laying amongst the bottles of Windex and stacks of sponges?
I got down on all fours and stuck my head inside the cabinet. Marlowe and Nero trotted up beside me. In fact, they’d been sticking to me like glue all night. Probably afraid of the storm.
Kaboom!
The cats jumped and so did I, hitting my head on the inside of the cabinet. Ouch. At least the sound of the thunder had been muted with my head inside that thing.
I pulled my head out. I couldn’t hear a darn thing with it inside the cabinet, but I was expecting to hear a flurry of footsteps above as my guests leapt out of bed. But no. They all must have Ambien prescriptions because they were apparently fast asleep, tucked into their quilt-covered beds.
I stood, rubbing the back of my head and Nero jumped on the counter.
Meow.
‘Hey, I just washed that. Get down.’ I waved my hands at the cat who simply turned his back on me to look out the window. Good thing Barbara Littlefield wouldn’t be making a surprise visit tonight in the storm.
I followed his gaze out the window just in time to see a bolt of lightning illuminate the turbulent surf in the cove near the Smugglers Bay Inn. No seagulls were flying around in this storm.
Meroow!
Marlowe paced over by the door to the hallway. The sound of his meow reminded me of the tone of his wailing when we found Charles’ body. Hopefully it wasn’t a tone reserved only for body finding.
Nero leaped down from the counter and trotted toward the door, looking over his shoulder at me.
Kaboom!
The thunder sure was loud.
Creak.
Wait, what was that? One of the guests? I tilted my head to the side and cocked my ear toward the ceiling. No, the creaking hadn’t come from upstairs, it had come from the direction of the foyer. Both cats were now sitting in the doorway that led to the hallway and looking at me expectantly. Were they trying to alert me to an intruder?
I grabbed the first weapon I could find. A rolling pin. Not the new glass kind. The heavy old-fashioned wooden kind.
My heart pounded against my rib cage as I crept out into the darkened hallway.
Creak.
Whoever it was, was near the stairs! Was that the killer coming back to the scene of the crime? And if so, why?
I probably should’ve called the cops, but I didn’t want to alert the intruder to the fact that I knew he was there. Because now I had the element of surprise and I didn’t
want to lose it. If I took my phone out and called, they might hear me and run off. I needed to catch him in the act and then hopefully detain him long enough for the police to come.
I moved slowly along the hallway, my rolling pin raised above my head.
A big hulking shadow loomed by the stairs. He looked like he was about to head down the hallway that led to the West wing. Just as I suspected, the killer was returning, probably to make sure he hadn’t left some sort of clue.
I was almost upon him when lightning lit the hallway, exposing the intruder. My heart crashed along with the accompanying sound of thunder.
It was Tony Murano and he was holding something shiny in his hand.
I must have made a noise because Tony spun around.
I flicked on the lights and raised the rolling pin over my head. ‘You! Put that down. I knew you were the killer!’
Tony shoved his hand behind his back, scrunched up his face and shaded his eyes against the light with his free hand. ‘Huh? Listen lady, you’ve caused enough trouble for me.’
He took a step toward me. I couldn’t see what was in his left hand. Was it the cleaver I’d seen him wielding the in restaurant? He seemed to enjoy hacking things with it. But I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. ‘That’s far enough Tony. I’ve already called the police and they’ll be here any minute.’
‘Good, because you should be arrested.’
‘Me? You’re the killer!’
‘No. You are. The marriage killer. What do you mean coming over to my restaurant and getting my wife all upset. You should mind your own business.’
Huh? This wasn’t going the way I thought it would. Why was he talking about his wife? Perhaps he was trying to distract me.
‘I’m not falling for that! You broke in here! I bet you think we’re getting too close to the truth and want to make sure you didn’t leave more than just a footprint at the scene of the crime.’
A Twist in the Tail: An absolutely purrfect cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 1) Page 12