A Whisker in the Dark

by Leighann Dobbs

  I stepped into the foyer, surprised to see Nero and Marlowe on the table, sniffing around the doily. They turned as I came in and I could have sworn their looks were a tad judgmental. Were they the cleaning police now, judging me for not getting the doily cleaned right away?

  “I know, I know. It’s dirty.” I shooed them away to find that the doily was not dirty at all, apart from a few little pieces of dirt that the cats had apparently decided were quite fascinating. Flora must’ve cleaned the doily, but left loose dirt. No surprise there. I could at least give her credit for the effort, and Millie’s family doily wasn’t ruined.

  Meow.

  Nero blinked at me with his intelligent golden eyes as if he was trying to tell me something.

  “Yes, I already admitted that I see there’s dirt here.” I brushed the dirt into my palm, making a mental note to wash off the table later.

  Mewp.

  Marlowe jumped down and sniffed my shoes.

  “My shoes aren’t dirty. I’m not the one who was out digging for treasure,” I said.

  Both cats blinked up at me, their tails swishing. The intensity of their stares gave me the impression that they were either trying to telepath some thoughts my way or were thinking I was the dumbest human around. Maybe both. Then again, maybe they just wanted some food.

  “Are you guys hungry?” I’d been making attempts to communicate with them as equals. I’d really been trying to see if they had any understanding of my questions. I still wasn’t convinced that they were as smart as Millie seemed to think, but at times they did seem eerily intelligent.

  Meroo!

  They both ran to the kitchen. Just as I thought, my attempts at communication were getting better.

  Flora walked in the front door just then, wearing a crocheted sweater with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her giant beige patent-leather purse hanging from her arm.

  “Oh, Flora, there you are.”

  She scowled at me. “Where else would I be?”

  “Where have you been?”

  Flora sighed and rolled her eyes, the thick round coke-bottle glasses giving this a comical effect. “I told you earlier. I was going to Irma Blazer’s to work on our cookies for the great-grandmothers of twins’ table.” She spoke slowly as if I was a dunce and couldn’t understand her. “I left shortly after Seth Chamberlain interrogated me.”

  Now I remembered. Flora had mentioned that the other day, but with all the excitement going on, I’d forgotten.

  “Oh right. How did that go with Seth anyway?” I asked.

  Flora pursed her lips as she put her giant purse down on the table, shrugged out of her sweater and hung it on the coatrack. “That young man needs to learn some manners. Accusing his elders. I don’t know what the world is coming to.”

  I bit back a smile. Seth had to be almost seventy and I didn’t think he was that much younger than Flora. Then again, she said she changed his diapers, so there must have been at least a decade and a few years between them.

  “I don’t know what gives him cause to accuse you. You weren’t even out there digging, right?” Flora had been cagey about this before and I wanted to ask again because Flora was getting up there in years and maybe she was having some memory issues. Paula had claimed to have seen her. Myron had said Flora got the last shovel. Paula couldn’t actually be trusted to remember stuff right and Myron could have been lying, but why would he?

  Flora pressed her lips together and fisted her hands on her hips. “I never said I wasn’t out there. I said I couldn’t very well clobber someone over the head. I don’t have the strength.” She bent her scrawny arm at the elbow again to make a muscle, as if to prove her point. “But just like everyone else in town I was curious about the treasure, so I wanted to see what was going on.”

  I searched my memory banks for the previous conversation. Flora was right, she had said she couldn’t clobber someone. But I still got the impression she’d purposely avoided admitting she was out there. Maybe she was embarrassed about digging. Or afraid about being accused? But she hadn’t actually lied, I’d just misinterpreted what she’d said. That made me feel a lot better. “So you were digging?”

  Flora looked appropriately embarrassed. “As much as I could. It’s hard work.”

  That explained why Paula had seen her. But it didn’t explain something else I’d heard about her.

  “Are you planning on going on a trip?” I asked.

  Flora frowned at me. “No. What makes you ask that? Where would I get money for a trip?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought I heard from someone that you were taking one.” I didn’t want to rat out Annabel. No sense in making enemies out of someone you might want to get information from later.

  Flora’s gigantic eyes assessed me as if she was considering having me committed. Butterflies swarmed in my gut. Either Annabel had gotten her wires crossed or Flora was a very good actress. And if it was the latter, then all the details of her being capable of hitting someone with a shovel could have been acting too.

  “I would have asked for the time off if I was going on a trip, right? Did I ask for time off?” Flora reached into the closet and pulled out the feather duster.

  “No. But if you want some time off you can have it.”

  “Got no need for time off. Got no need for travel. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get cleaning. Lots of work to do.” She shuffled off toward the stairs then stopped, turning to look at me. “By the way, don’t worry. I did clean that room for that nasty Arlene. You ask me, she doesn’t deserve it. The place was a pigsty. But that’s none of my business.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for cleaning off the doily too.” I gestured toward the table. I didn’t mention she’d forgotten to pick up some of the dirt. With Flora you had to take what you get.

  She gave me another one of those I-should-have-you-committed looks. “If you say so.”

  Merup.

  The cats had been sitting patiently watching us as if they understood every word we were saying. But now it appeared their patience had come to an end. They trotted toward the kitchen, glancing back at me every few steps. They wanted the food I’d promised earlier.

  Flora was swatting at the railing with the duster as she ascended the stairs. I was glad she hadn’t lied about being out there last night. Paula probably had seen her but been confused about where and when. Okay, the thing about the trip was a little odd but maybe Flora didn’t want me to know she was planning one or maybe she was looking into it for one of her bazillion grandchildren.

  I could cross Flora off my suspect list and focus on the others. The Biddeford siblings were at the top and I couldn’t discount Doris, either. Myron was running a close second though. He’d lied about being here, but I felt that might be because he was embarrassed to admit he was with Stella. Too bad we didn’t know more about the arguments amongst the Biddeford clan. So far it didn’t seem like any of them were worth killing over. I needed someone with a more compelling motive.

  At least the townspeople wouldn’t be digging up the yard again. If what Jen said was true, they were all too afraid of Jedediah Biddeford’s ghost. But I didn’t think Bob’s death had been perpetrated by any ghost. No, whoever clobbered Bob over the head was undoubtedly human, and might be getting very nervous about being discovered as the killer.

  And, as I knew from previous experience, people who were nervous about being exposed as a killer could become very dangerous.

  Seventeen

  I shook off the silly notion that Jedediah’s ghost was killing people who had been searching for his treasure and fed the cats. They seemed to appreciate their meal of turkey chunks and gravy if the way they circled around my feet and rubbed their cheeks on my ankles was any indication.

  I bent down to pet them, and they rewarded me by butting their soft heads against my hand and purring. My relationship with the cats was improving greatly. I’d never had a cat before buying the guesthouse and I had to admit they were actually quite good pets
.

  “You know, you guys are actually pretty great. I’m glad to own you.”

  The cats abruptly stopped their purring and rubbing, and looked at me with eyes that were practically shooting daggers.

  “I mean, I’m glad you guys own me now.”

  That must have mollified them because they continued their purring and rubbing—it was as if they could understand every word I’d said.

  The cats went back to their bowls and I stood and watched them eat for a few seconds. Unlike humans, the cats seemed to appreciate most things I gave them, except when they were being finicky. Turns out cats are pretty good company too. Maybe even better company than husbands. I certainly enjoyed my relationship with them more than the last several years—possibly even the last several decades—with my ex, Clive.

  I left the cats to their bowls and pulled out Millie’s recipe file. I needed to find something for breakfast the next day. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse didn’t provide lunch or dinner, but the guests sure did expect a spectacular breakfast.

  I riffled through the file, discarding the ones that seemed like they were beyond my skill set or that had too many ingredients, when the back door opened and in came my mother and Millie.

  “I hope you don’t mind us just walking in, dear.” Millie came over to inspect the recipes I’d pulled out. “Are you planning for breakfast tomorrow? That’s very good. You need to plan ahead when you are running an operation like this. What are you going to make?”

  The cats immediately ran over to greet Millie but I noticed this time they hesitated just for a second, looking up as if to assure me that even though they were meeting their old friend Millie, they still knew that their new friend—me—was the one who fed them. I found that heartwarming even if it was likely just my imagination.

  “I’m not sure. I was thinking about maybe a quiche or a frittata, but I’ve never made a frittata…” I glanced at Millie hopefully. So far Millie had helped me cook most of the breakfasts I’d served. I guess she felt a responsibility to keep up the reputation of the guesthouse in that department. I didn’t mind.

  “We have a lot going on, so I think a quiche would do. You know you can make those ahead of time.” Millie selected a broccoli quiche recipe and put it on the counter. “You have some leftover cooked white rice from our Chinese takeout the other day, don’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Perfect. I don’t like to waste food. We can use that up in here,” Millie said. “You know, back when I ran the guesthouse in my younger days, I used to like to pre-prep. Some things like the frittata must be prepared fresh that morning, but I always preferred doing something the night before, that way I didn’t have to get up early. I could just rush down, heat it up and then put it on the breakfast buffet with the other items. I never did like to get up early.”

  “All those late nights out with your boyfriends,” my mother teased.

  Millie blushed and fluffed her hair. “Well now, I guess I’ll just start assembling these ingredients.”

  She opened the cupboard and took out some salt and pepper, then grabbed eggs, cheese and milk and the rice out of the fridge before taking the frozen broccoli out of the freezer and popping it into the microwave. “It’s always a good idea to have some frozen veggies around, comes in handy when you need to whip up a quiche.”

  I nodded. The broccoli must have been left over from when Millie owned the place. I certainly didn’t remember buying it.

  As she worked, she talked. “Did you learn anything new about…” She jerked her head in the direction of the pond.

  “I talked to Jen and she said people around town think Jedediah’s ghost came back and committed the murder.”

  My mother gave a nervous laugh, her eyes darting around the room as if she expected a ghost to manifest out of nowhere. “That’s ridiculous. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course it is.” Millie cracked an egg into a bowl and started beating it. “That man was definitely killed by a human. He was bludgeoned over the head with a shovel. Ghosts would do something less physical.”

  “I think all of Bob’s siblings are still suspects. I’m not sure about Flora, she did say she was out there… but she didn’t kill Bob, of course.” I chewed on my bottom lip. Should I mention to Mom and Millie that she’d sort of lied? Millie would probably say she had just been forgetful, she was quite old. I wondered if the police still suspected her.

  “I haven’t talked to Seth Chamberlain, have you?” I asked. Millie always could wrangle sensitive information out of him.

  Millie blushed. Just as I suspected, she’d been doing more than talking with Sheriff Chamberlain. Good thing for us though as we could use all the information we could get.

  Millie added rice to the egg and beat faster. “I happen to know the siblings are still suspects but don’t tell anyone I told you.”

  “All of them?” my mother asked as Marlowe jumped up onto her lap. “I thought maybe Earl had cleared himself with the shoes.”

  Millie nodded. “Yes. His Nikes do seem to clear him, but who can believe what Paula said? Maybe she didn’t see fancy shoes at all.”

  “And is she a suspect?” I asked. “I mean, she does admit she was in the proximity. She says she was asleep under the bench, but she could be lying about that.”

  “I don’t think we can rule any of them out because they all argued with Bob,” Mom said.

  “And Flora didn’t,” Millie added. “She has no motive.”

  “Other than the treasure,” Mom added.

  “If only we knew what those arguments were really about we could determine if his siblings had something to kill over,” I said.

  “And let’s not forget about Myron Remington. He was acting very strange and overly interested in the case. He dresses fancy. I bet he has a pair of Italian leather shoes like Paula said she saw. Didn’t you see him here last night, Millie?” my mother asked.

  “Yep. I think he was with Stella Dumont, but you’re wrong about one thing. He’s not really interested in Bob’s case, he’s more interested in Jedediah’s case. The skeleton,” Millie said. “He was asking Seth all about it.”

  Millie had mixed grated cheese in with the egg and rice and she pressed that into a pie plate to make the crust. I watched carefully. Millie made it look easy.

  “Myron said he wasn’t here that night,” I said. Millie turned to look at me, her left brow quirked up. “I asked him directly.”

  “I saw him. I know it was him,” Millie said.

  “Why would he lie?” my mother asked.

  “If he was with Stella he might not want anyone to know,” I suggested.

  “Or maybe he’s the killer and pretending he is interested in the skeleton as an excuse to find out more about the police investigation into Bob’s murder,” Mom said.

  Millie mixed the rest of the eggs and the other ingredients together and poured it in the pie plate on top of the egg and rice crust. The cats begged and she tossed them a piece of cheese. “I don’t know. Myron has always been worried about what people think. Always boasting about how his family has been here for generations, as if that was some sort of pedigree. He probably just didn’t want anyone to know that he’d lowered himself to the level of regular folks.”

  “Did Flora say what she was doing down by the pond? Or even if she was there?” Mom asked.

  “Not to me,” I said. “I didn’t hear her deny Paula’s accusation either though.”

  Millie pressed her lips together. “Seth didn’t mention what he talked about with Flora. I know he thinks I am biased about her. But if Paula is telling the truth and she was awakened by the shoe stepping on her hand, then saw Flora, that means Flora was coming down the path after the person with the fancy shoes,” Millie said. “Do you think Flora might’ve seen something and is afraid to talk about it?”

  The cats meowed loudly. They were over by a small bookshelf that held ephemera related to the guesthouse. All kinds of old brochures, menus, pictures. Nero swatted at the
little blue plastic ring from a milk bottle that had fallen on the floor and it skittered under the bookshelf. The two cats peered after it, then Marlowe snaked her paw under to retrieve it.

  “She might have seen something, but I doubt it,” Millie said. “I mean, have you ever seen Flora afraid to speak up?”

  “Good point,” I said. “And what about this business about a trip to the Caribbean? Why would Annabel say Flora was taking one if she isn’t? Or if she is, why would Flora lie?”

  Millie waved her hands dismissively. “Annabel probably thinks if she says it enough times Flora will think it’s her idea. She’s doing a big renovation on her travel agency and I bet she needs the money. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s saying that about everyone—you know, planting the idea sort of like a subliminal message.”

  “Maybe. I just hope Seth will leave Flora alone now. He has many more interesting suspects to consider,” I said.

  “Not the least of which is Jedediah’s ghost.” Mom stared at the cats, who were now staring at the bookcase as if mesmerized by something the rest of us couldn’t see. “Maybe Nero and Marlowe know more about that than we do.”

  Mew!

  They turned to look at us as if they knew we were talking about them, then continued playing with the plastic ring, Nero swatting at it and sending it skidding into the butler’s pantry.

  “Oh, go on.” Millie waved her hand in the air. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Maybe not, but plenty of people do believe it.” Mom glanced at me. “I just hope it doesn’t hurt the reputation of the guesthouse.”

  “All the more reason to figure out who really killed Bob so the rumors can stop.” I would like nothing better than to solve this case quickly and move on. I hadn’t gotten a reservation for the guesthouse in the last couple of days and soon the Biddefords would be leaving. I needed new guests to pay the bills. And I didn’t need something like a lingering murder investigation to scare them off.