A Purrfect Alibi: A pawsitively gripping cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 3) Read online

  A Purrfect Alibi

  A pawsitively gripping cozy mystery

  Leighann Dobbs

  Books by Leighann Dobbs

  The Oyster Cove Guesthouse (Cat Cozy Mystery Series)

  A Twist in the Tail

  A Whisker in the Dark

  A Purrfect Alibi

  Mystic Notch (Cat Cozy Mystery Series)

  Ghostly Paws

  A Spirited Tail

  A Mew to a Kill

  Paws and Effect

  Probable Paws

  A Whisker of a Doubt

  Blackmoore Sisters (Cozy Mystery Series)

  Dead Wrong

  Dead & Buried

  Dead Tide

  Buried Secrets

  Deadly Intentions

  A Grave Mistake

  Spell Found

  Fatal Fortune

  Lexy Baker (Cozy Mystery Series)

  Lexy Baker Cozy Mystery Series Boxed Set Vol 1 (Books 1–4)

  Or buy the books separately:

  Killer Cupcakes

  Dying for Danish

  Murder, Money and Marzipan

  3 Bodies and a Biscotti

  Brownies, Bodies and Bad Guys

  Bake, Battle and Roll

  Wedded Blintz

  Scones, Skulls & Scams

  Ice Cream Murder

  Mummified Meringues

  Brutal Brulee (Novella)

  No Scone Unturned

  Cream Puff Killer

  Never Say Pie

  Kate Diamond Mystery Adventures

  Hidden Agemda (Book 1)

  Ancient Hiss Story (Book 2)

  Heist Society (Book 3)

  Silver Hollow (Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series)

  A Spell of Trouble (Book 1)

  Spell Disaster (Book 2)

  Nothing to Croak About (Book 3)

  Cry Wolf (Book 4)

  Mooseamuck Island (Cozy Mystery Series)

  A Zen for Murder

  A Crabby Killer

  A Treacherous Treasure

  Hazel Martin (Historical Mystery Series)

  Murder at Lowry House (Book 1)

  Murder by Misunderstanding (Book 2)

  Lady Katherine Regency Mysteries

  An Invitation to Murder (Book 1)

  The Baffling Burglaries of Bath (Book 2)

  Murder at the Ice Ball (Book 3)

  A Murderous Affair (Book 4)

  Sam Mason Mysteries (Writing as L. A. Dobbs)

  Telling Lies (Book 1)

  Keeping Secrets (Book 2)

  Exposing Truths (Book 3)

  Betraying Trust (Book 4)

  Killing Dreams (Book 5)

  Available in Audio

  The Oyster Cove Guesthouse (Cat Cozy Mystery Series)

  A Twist in the Tail (Available in the UK and US)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Hear More from Leighann

  Books by Leighann Dobbs

  A Letter from Leighann

  A Twist in the Tail

  A Whisker in the Dark

  Recipes

  One

  It’s not every day that the guesthouse you own is filled with tarot readers, crystal-ball gazers and psychic mediums, so one needs to take advantage of that when it happens. Which is how I found myself seated at a small antique mahogany table in the parlor across from Madame Zenda, who was laying out a row of colorful tarot cards.

  “That’s a lovely card, look at those reds and the blues!” Millie Sullivan, my mother’s best friend and the woman I had bought the Oyster Cove Guesthouse from, leaned over my shoulder and pointed at a card that depicted a dashing knight on a horse waving a sword. Millie had sold me the old mansion, which was badly in need of repairs, because she wanted to retire. To “get out and do things”. Things that, so far, mostly consisted of getting into trouble alongside my mother. But the truth was, since I’d taken ownership, it seemed as if they’d both been here more than when Millie had owned the place.

  Madame Zenda tapped the card with a sausage-like finger. She had to be in her late seventies, and was thin as a rail, with a face like a bloodhound and large, meaty hands. “A restless mind or a sudden surprise.”

  “See, I told you that you should ask Mike to the Marinara Mariner for dinner on Wednesday.” Millie poked me in the shoulder. “They have a chicken-parm special that is out of this world. That might calm your restless mind.”

  “Wait.” My mother, who was standing over my other shoulder, piped up. “Maybe the sudden surprise is that Mike is going to ask her out. I think Josie should hold off. You know, play hard to get. Men always want what they can’t have.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Millie’s voice carried an air of authority.

  I sighed but remained silent.

  Mike was Millie’s nephew and also the town building inspector. I’d known him since I was a kid when he’d been my brother’s best friend. I guess you could say we sort of had a history. Nothing too sordid, so don’t get your hopes up. That had been a long time ago, though, and much water had passed under that bridge. Mom and Millie had been trying to push us together ever since I’d moved back to town, but I wasn’t in the market. One of the reasons I’d moved back to my hometown of Oyster Cove was that I’d recently gone through an unpleasant divorce. I had no intention of repeating that mistake any time soon.

  Across from me, Madame Zenda was making a big show of selecting the next card, her gold bracelets jangling as she waved her hairy arms over the deck she held in her hand. She was wearing some sort of flowing caftan with vibrant reds, purples, and oranges that matched the cards she laid out. Her curly gray hair bobbed around her head like unruly springs. She flipped the card.

  Millie gasped.

  I looked down at the card; a skeleton in armor riding a horse.

  Madame Zenda stared at the card, her bushy gray eyebrows mashing together like two elderly caterpillars jostling for the best spot on a leaf. Her hazel eyes clouded over. “Is that a skeleton?” Mom asked.

  Millie leaned closer to the table. “That can’t be good.”

  “It’s the death card,” Madame Zenda said softly, then hastened to add, “but it doesn’t always mean death.”

  “Well if it does, you’re too late,” Millie said. “There’s already been a death here a few weeks ago.”

  “And a few weeks before that, too,” my mother added.

  “You’ve had several deaths here recently?” The question came from another of my guests, Victor Merino. He had been sitting cross-legged in the mahogany-trimmed upholstered chair in the corner, his eyes closed, hands on his knees, palms up. He was wearing a royal-blue velvet sweatsuit and had a shaggy, oversized mustache. I wished he wouldn’t sit like that on the chair, it was a delicate antique. He claimed he talked to dead people and apparently our talk of dead bodies
had roused him from his meditation. I can’t say I was sorry about that, his constant ohm-ing was starting to drive me up the wall.

  “Oh, nothing to do with the accommodations here at the guesthouse,” Millie added quickly. “You are in no danger. Those folks had it coming to them. Err… I mean, someone had a grudge against them.”

  “Yeah, and don’t think it was Josie’s cooking either,” Mom said. “She’s getting a lot better.”

  Meow! Nero, a black-and-white tuxedo cat that had come with my purchase of the guesthouse, hopped up onto the windowsill and fixed my mother with a slit-eyed gaze. I nodded at him approvingly. At least someone was sticking up for my cooking. I mean, that little incident when I practically burned down the guesthouse with my overcooked banana loaf was just one teeny mistake. I’d been whipping up some fine breakfasts lately, even if I did say so myself. Sunlight spilled in from the window highlighting Nero’s glossy, jet-black fur. His intelligent golden eyes met mine and then he glanced out the window. Following his gaze, I caught a flash of something pink. What was that?

  I leaned over to look outside. “Did you see that?”

  “What?” My mother glanced out as Marlowe, the other guesthouse cat, hopped up to join Nero. She settled in next to Nero, her black-and-orange tortie-patterned fur mingling with his jet black. I went to get a better look. The window was cracked open and I could smell the ocean breeze and hear the far-away call of the gulls. The guesthouse sat atop a hill with a sweeping view of Oyster Cove, but not from the front parlor. From here all I could see was the long driveway and part of the overgrown gardens. Wait… was that movement? I could have sworn I saw someone moving around in the thick shrubbery, but who would be lurking outside?

  “I don’t see anything,” Mom said.

  “Me neither.” Victor had come over to look out. “Let’s get back to these dead people. You say there have been several deaths here over the past few weeks?”

  Millie turned to face him. “Yes, but let’s not dwell on that. I mean, it could happen anywhere.”

  Mom nodded. “That’s right. When a person is determined to kill someone, the location is hardly a consideration. Just because it happened here shouldn’t be a concern.”

  “Oh, I’m not concerned,” Victor said. “I’m intrigued. Their spirits may still be around, and it would be good practice to talk to them. Might help me get a line on old Jedediah Biddeford.”

  Getting a “line” on old Jedediah Biddeford was the reason my guesthouse was filled with psychics. A few weeks ago, his skeleton had been found inside the wall during renovations. Turned out someone had put him in there about three hundred years ago. So, I guess there had actually been three murders at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse. Well, three that we knew about, anyway. Jed had been a seafaring merchant back in the day and had set off for Europe to bring back treasure. He’d never returned. Or, so they’d thought. Turns out he had returned and someone had killed him and closed him up inside the wall. No one knew what had happened to the treasure. Was it buried here on the grounds or had the killer taken it? My bet was on the latter, but these psychics had all come to try to communicate with his ghost so they could find the treasure.

  I doubted there actually was any treasure, but they were paying guests and I needed the money. I’d spent my life savings on buying the guesthouse and had recently taken out a substantial loan to get the renovations done. I wasn’t about to turn away guests, even if they did think they could chat with someone who had been dead for three hundred years. I just hoped they wouldn’t kill each other in the process. Judging by the level of animosity between them, I would have to keep a close eye out.

  “You do need the help communicating, Victor,” Madame Zenda muttered. See what I mean? These folks had history and were constantly sniping at each other.

  “Look who’s talking.” Victor waved at the tarot cards. “Your readings are never anywhere near accurate. Predicting something that happened weeks ago.”

  “You should talk.” Gail Weathers stood in the doorway cupping a mug of tea in her hands. Gail was a short, stout woman with long, snow-white hair. She was a tea-leaf reader and had just about depleted my stock of Earl Grey. Millie was partial to her because she’d read her tea leaves and told Millie she would soon find love and fortune. “Last week you were called out for researching your audience in advance of the show you did in Boston.”

  “I like to know who is in the audience. I wasn’t cheating; those dead folks really did come through for their loved ones.” Victor crossed his arms over his chest and stepped toward Gail. “At least I can read something. Those tea leaves of yours are useless. What a scam. You can’t be very good if I’ve never heard of you, I’ve worked with the best in the business.”

  Gail glared at him as she proceeded to the sofa, carefully holding her mug.

  “People! Stop arguing.” Esther Hill, a pleasant little old lady with sparkling blue eyes, got to her feet from where she’d been seated at a small, square, oak table near a window. The table had been set up with a black velvet cloth upon which sat a luminous crystal ball. If you ask me, she was the nicest of the bunch. Unlike the others, she was dressed normally in a powder-blue cardigan and navy slacks. “If you want a reading, Josie, come over here. I have much to tell you.”

  She motioned me to the chair across the table from her and we both sat. In between us the crystal ball winked ominously. I wondered if it, too, would reveal death. Mew.

  Nero hopped up on the table and gazed into the ball as if he was wondering the same thing. Esther smiled down at Nero and petted the top of his head. Nero purred and looked at her adoringly. I scowled. The cats never looked at me that way. I was still getting used to being owned by cats. Yes, you heard me correctly. Since I’d come to the guesthouse, I’d learned that one didn’t own cats, it was the other way around. Though my relationship with Nero and Marlowe had improved vastly since that first day, I still had a lot to learn. Esther waved her hands over the crystal ball. Unlike Madame Zenda, she didn’t have a lot of jangly bracelets or loose-flowing sleeves, but her technique was just as impressive. She bent her neck to peer closer into the ball. I did the same. Nero did too. Esther was making a lot of faces. I wasn’t sure what she was seeing; all I saw was my own reflection, except upside down.

  “Aha!” She lifted her head, a mischievous smile on her face. “I see something in your future.”

  “What is it?” Hopefully not a dead body.

  Her smile widened. “Someone tall, dark and handsome.”

  “We know who that is!” my mother said.

  “That’s right. Mike. I told you you should ask him out,” Millie added.

  “See? My reading wasn’t off,” Madame Zenda said from the corner where she’d been pouting.

  “I saw that in the tea leaves!” Gail piped in from the sofa.

  “Lots of men are tall, dark and handsome,” I said. Though Mike really was tall, dark and handsome. Still, it was the cliché crystal-ball reading and I wasn’t putting much weight into it.

  Thunk!

  We all jerked our attention in the direction of the mantle where a small candlestick had fallen on the floor.

  “Where did that come from?” Gail asked.

  “That looks like Great-grandma Sullivan’s brass beehive candlestick.” Millie bustled over and picked up the stick, then placed it back on the mantle. “It must’ve been right on the edge. Maybe Flora moved it too close when she was dusting.”

  I was skeptical about that because I wasn’t sure Flora actually dusted the mantle. Flora had been the maid at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse since Millie was a child. No one really knew how old Flora was, but one thing I did know was that she was the world’s worst maid. Almost every chore I asked her to do was met with an excuse as to why she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do it. But Millie had been pretty insistent that I keep Flora on. She’d explained that the elderly maid didn’t have much in social-security income. She depended on the wages here and she’d been very loyal to Millie’s family
. No one else had applied for the job, so I’d kept her. Anyway, I shouldn’t complain—she had come through for us during the apprehension of the latest killer, so I guess I should give her a pass on the dusting and, I had to admit, I was getting sort of attached to her.

  “I didn’t put anything close to the edge.” As if summoned by her name, Flora appeared in the doorway. She was a tiny thing, about four feet tall, with wisps of cotton-white hair sticking up and gigantic round glasses that gave her eyes an owlish appearance. Apparently, her hearing wasn’t as bad as her eyesight. Her eyes fell on the crystal ball and grew even bigger, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you giving readings?” Flora sidled over to the table.

  Esther smiled and gestured to the chair I was currently occupying. “Won’t you sit down?”

  Apparently, my reading was over, so I stood up. Say what you will about me, but I can take a hint. Esther produced a card seemingly out of nowhere and pressed it into my palm. “In case you want to recommend me to a friend.”

  Flora dropped the feather duster she had in her hand on the table and sat in the chair. Esther went into her hand-waving and crystal-ball-peering act.

  “Aha!” She looked up sharply at Flora.

  Flora frowned. “What?”

  “I see someone special in your future.”

  Flora straightened and smiled. “Someone tall, dark and handsome?”