A Whisker in the Dark Read online

  “I don’t know, seems like Seth would have confiscated it from her if he thinks she’s a suspect.” Millie paused her beating and turned to me. “Do you think Doris lied because she killed her son?”

  “I’m not sure. She was pretty upset about the business failing and Bob was threatening everyone. If he made good on any of those threats, it wouldn’t be good for business,” I said. “Maybe she thought that the treasure curse and ghost would make a good cover. Someone has been pushing that ghost rumor pretty hard around town.”

  “Would Doris really think that Seth would believe that a ghost killed someone?”

  Millie and I exchanged a glance. Seth wasn’t the sharpest pencil but I didn’t think he believed in murdering ghosts. But maybe Doris thought he did.

  “We have to figure out what is going on with Flora.” The missing shovel bothered me. Seth had said the Biddefords’ shovels had been tested and none of them had been used to kill Bob. If Doris was the killer, then how had she pulled that off? On the other hand, Flora had been making herself scarce around the guesthouse lately. Was that so she could avoid Seth because she knew that he was going to ask for her shovel?

  “But why would she kill Bob? I doubt there is even any treasure and she never mentioned needing money,” Millie said, almost to herself. “Maybe I should’ve given her a raise before I sold the guesthouse.”

  Was I not paying Flora enough? But she barely did anything. I made a mental note to give her a raise anyway once profits increased. If she wasn’t rotting away in a jail cell.

  “Myron could have used a shovel from home. I mean just because the store was sold out doesn’t mean a thing. I’m sure there are some shovels hanging around that big estate he lives on. Maybe his proof that he showed Seth was fake?” I said.

  “Oh, that.” Millie fluffed her hair, her cheeks turning crimson. “I got that out of Seth behind the Chamber of Commerce tent.”

  Best not to ask what she’d had to do behind the tent to get it out of him. “So what was it?”

  Millie grabbed a loaf pan and started pouring the batter in. “Apparently one of your guests is taking out a loan to buy out more than fifty percent of the stock in the cheese-sculpting business.”

  “Seriously?” This was big news. Why hadn’t she mentioned that when she first came in?

  “Yeah, I thought it was important too, but it’s not because it clears Myron as well as one of the Biddefords. And it also proves that Doris is lying.”

  “Wait, one of them was going to steal the company out from under the rest of the family? Was it Bob? Is that why he was killed because someone found out and wanted to stop him from taking control?”

  It wasn’t totally ridiculous. After all, the company was failing and the siblings were at odds. It did seem prudent for one of them to buy the others out, take control and dictate a course of action that might bring the company back to its former glory. At least, I hoped so for Doris’s sake. “But why would they get a loan from a bank all the way out here? Their business is in New Jersey.”

  “Turns out you were partially right about Myron and Carla. They did know each other from Yale. They weren’t having an affair though, she prevailed upon him to get this loan because she didn’t want to go with anyone local to them because she wanted secrecy.” Millie glanced around to make sure no Biddefords were lurking within hearing distance. “You can imagine what a ruckus that would cause if the family found out someone was attempting a hostile takeover.”

  “Yeah. I can’t imagine that Bob would have liked it much. I wonder if that’s what Bob was threatening her about?”

  “It could’ve been. But I don’t think she’s the one who killed Bob because Seth said it’s one of those online documents that you sign electronically and it’s timestamped. Apparently, that’s why they didn’t go to the bank and did the dirty deed here in the gazebo.” Millie shoved the pan into the oven. “Carla already knew her family would be digging outside and that they wouldn’t be anywhere near the gazebo since that wasn’t built in Jed’s day. She figured it would be the perfect place to meet him without her family asking a lot of questions about where she was going. They’d all be focused on where they thought the treasure was and no one would be paying much attention to her. The timestamp is shortly before the time of death for Bob, so that gives both Myron and Carla an alibi. Seth said there was no way they could have gotten from the gazebo to the pond that quickly.”

  “Unless they signed it while they were killing Bob. How does he even know they were actually at the gazebo?” I asked.

  “GPS coordinates,” Millie said. “Besides, what motive would they have? Once the papers were signed Carla could buy the stock and it would all be out in the open anyway, so Bob telling on her was no threat. And Myron got to sell a loan so he wouldn’t care about Bob.”

  “Good point, but the cats were specifically showing me…” I looked around the room. “Hey, where are the cats?” They usually ran in at the first sight of Millie.

  “Probably napping somewhere or outside with their friends.”

  I frowned remembering the cats I’d seen at the crime scene. Were Nero and Marlowe in some kind of cat gang?

  “What were you saying about the cats anyway, dear?” Millie continued.

  “Oh nothing. I just sort of thought that maybe they were pointing me toward Myron and Carla.”

  “Oh, they might have been. Nero and Marlowe are very perceptive. They know things. And of course they see things that humans can’t see. But even if they were pointing you toward Myron and Carla, it could’ve been to tell you that you were on the wrong track,” Millie said wisely.

  “Great. Well, this doesn’t help us clear Flora.”

  “I know. That is a problem, but I’m sure she must have an explanation for all these things that appear to point to her. Things are not always as they seem, you know.”

  The kitchen door opened and Mike strode in with my mom giggling behind him. He shot me an apologetic glance. “I found your mom dancing down at the beer tent. Seemed like it was a good idea to take her home.”

  Mom slouched into a kitchen chair and hiccupped out a sentence. “Yeah. That Oyster Rock Brew sure has a kick to it.”

  “New local beer,” Mike said by way of explanation.

  Mom cradled her head in her arms on the table and Millie said, “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

  Mike smiled at my mom then turned his pearly whites on me. “This brings back memories, Sunshine. Like the time I found you drunk in a beer tent back in high school. I think that was the first time you went drinking. You acted a lot like your mom is now. Except when you—”

  “Never mind that,” I cut him off. That day had not been one of my finest moments. I didn’t want to remember how Mike had saved my ass by dragging me out of that beer tent where I was holding court with a bunch of college guys.

  Truth be told, I was grateful he’d barged in and pulled me away, but my memories of the actual events were a bit fuzzy. I had the ridiculous feeling that he’d kissed me that day, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Even so, my cheeks burned and my heartbeat sped up when my gaze met his.

  Was Mike’s memory of that day the same as mine? I saw something flicker in his eyes, then his gaze turned suspicious. “So, what were you guys up to down there?”

  Millie’s expression was all fake innocence and sweetness. “Whatever do you mean? We were simply making sure the Oyster Cove Guesthouse table was set up properly.”

  “Uh huh.” Mike looked like he didn’t believe a word. “And that’s why you needed to bring Paula? She’s upstairs passed out by the way. I drove her home with Rose.” He leaned against the counter nonchalantly, folding his arms over his chest. “And why were you over at Myron’s table with Paula and Sheriff Chamberlain?”

  How did he know that? Had he been spying on us?

  “They just happened to be there too.” Millie averted her gaze and pretended like she was checking on the loaf pan.

  “Interesting. I just
hope you aren’t up to something you shouldn’t be. The sheriff is perfectly capable of conducting an investigation.”

  Millie sighed. “Of course he is. You don’t think we’re trying to figure out who killed Bob Biddeford on our own, do you? I mean if we were, we’d ask for your help.”

  Mike didn’t look like he was buying Millie’s song and dance in the least.

  “He should join forces with ushh and weed find the killers fashter,” Mom slurred. Her head was resting on her arms atop the table but she’d turned it sideways to look at us.

  “Aha!” Mike said. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what? We’re just baking a loaf cake.” I pointed at the oven. “She’s drunk. Doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

  Mom frowned at me but was smart enough to hold her tongue.

  “I’m not the enemy here and I’m not trying to ruin your fun. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Any of you.” His eyes drifted from Mom to Millie and then settled on me. “You’re all very precious to me.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll be careful,” Millie said. “I don’t need to remind you that Rose, Josie and I are mature adults and don’t need you telling us what to do.”

  Mike threw up his hands in exasperation. “Fine. I know I can’t tell you what to do. But I just hope you won’t get into any serious trouble.”

  He pinned me with his gaze, but to his credit didn’t elaborate as to how we should back off on the investigation—or worse—how we should leave it to a professional like him.

  “Yes, dear, and thank you for bringing Rose back.” Millie pushed him out the door. “I know you’re very busy downtown with your new job and all, so we’ll let you get back to it.”

  Mike paused at the door and turned to me. “I’ll be back later to double-check the foundation and walls under the conservatory.”

  He would? That was news to me. “Now? Ed won’t be starting in there for a while.”

  He looked at me funny. “I think you might be focusing too much on investigating and not enough on what is going on in your own guesthouse. Some structural work was done to the walls already and I need to make sure it didn’t effect anything because of the weird way they constructed that room.”

  Again, news to me. “What weird way?” Wait! Ed had already done something in there?

  “When they added the conservatory, they used the wall of an existing barn that was adjacent to the house. That old barn had been original to the property. Did you notice that the foundation underneath is giant slabs of granite?”

  I nodded.

  “You can’t find those anymore. Anyway, since that existing wall and foundation is so old, I want to check the structural integrity before too much more work gets done.” Mike glanced at his watch then grimaced. “Gotta run. Have to inspect an addition over at the old Dunkirk place.”

  Mike shot a smile in my direction and went out the door as I digested this new tidbit of information. Not only had Ed lied about being in the conservatory, but the foundation and one of the walls dated back to Jed’s time. My thoughts drifted back to the conversation between the Biddefords right after we’d discovered the skeleton. They’d been talking about looking for a map and wondering if one could have been in the wall with Jed. Doris had said she’d looked in there pretty good, but she hadn’t seen a map and since they’d all arrived at the same time none of them could have taken it without the others seeing. The thing was, there was one person who had been there before any of us and that person could have taken the map. Ed.

  I looked up at my mother and Millie, a feeling of dread blooming in my stomach. “I think we better go talk to Ed.”

  Nero, Marlowe and the other cats crouched under an azalea bush, inspecting the shovel that protruded halfway out of the ground. There was no doubt why it had been buried. The coppery scent of blood and murderous intent hung maliciously in the air. A faint breeze rustled the leaves, the only sound breaking the silence as the cats watched Harry carefully brush away some of the dirt.

  Nero was proud of Harry and the others. They’d sniffed around the grounds and uncovered this valuable clue, then ran to gather him and Marlowe from the guesthouse. Now, it had been carefully uncovered just enough so that they could lead the humans over to discover it on their own.

  “Yep, that’s the murder weapon all right.” Harry sat back on his haunches and licked his paw, clearly satisfied with his own detective work.

  “I can smell Bob’s blood on the end.” Juliette’s face wrinkled in distaste. “But I don’t smell the woman who made the confession.”

  “So she’s not the killer.” Nero paced around the shovel, sniffing at it from all angles. Some of it was still buried, but his superior senses could sniff out the lingering scents even below the earth. Unfortunately, those scents did not provide clues as to who had wielded the weapon.

  Marlowe glanced back in the direction of the guesthouse. “How are we going to get Josie out here to find a shovel?”

  “Good question,” Nero said.

  Boots looked at him with his usual air of superiority and Nero resisted the urge to hiss at the other cat. He knew Boots was mostly jealous of Nero’s superior skills of deduction, not to mention that Nero had white tuxedo markings on his chest while Boots only had white on his paws. The tuxedo gave Nero a debonair air and Boots had always been a little jealous.

  “I thought Josie was starting to come around?” Stubbs said.

  Nero sighed. “She is a work in progress. She is starting to become aware of our communication attempts. Why, just this morning I pushed her toward a clue about Carla Biddeford’s mug and I know for a fact she understood the mug was a clue.”

  “She’s not up to speed yet though,” Marlowe added. “Last night she misconstrued our communications and even though she knew the mug was a clue, we aren’t sure she realized what we meant by it.”

  “True,” Nero mused. “Perhaps it would be best if we try to bring Millie.”

  “Millie is certainly a possibility.” Boots tugged at his whiskers. “But does Millie have enough clues to figure out who the killer is?”

  Juliette swiped her paw toward the shovel. “The murder weapon seems like a big enough clue. I’m sure the police can do forensics on it and figure out who the killer is.”

  Boots sniffed and turned up his nose. “Their lab tests are far inferior to our feline senses.”

  “Is that so?” Harry asked. “Then you tell me. Who is the killer?”

  “Well… err…” Boots glanced around the area. “There isn’t enough evidence to say. Having said that, are we sure Millie will even want to present the murder weapon to Sheriff Chamberlain?”

  “What do you mean, will she want to? Of course she will, because it may prove who the killer is,” Marlowe said.

  “Precisely my point,” Boots said. “What if the killer is someone Millie does not want revealed? Someone she is very close to and has a vested interest in protecting.”

  Nero’s heart dropped at the thought. Normally he would never even think that Millie would shield a killer from the law. But Millie was loyal to those she loved and Nero knew that Sheriff Chamberlain had Flora on his suspect list. But it couldn’t be Flora, Nero was sure of it. He was a good judge of character and beneath Flora’s gruff exterior was a kind heart. Never mind that she’d lied about a few things and never mind that her shoes had smelled like burned loaf cakes. She simply couldn’t be the killer. But that begged the question… who was?

  “Well one thing we know is it ain’t no ghost,” Stubbs said.

  Nero would have laughed, if laughing wasn’t beneath him. “Of course not. Although half the town thinks it is. If there was a ghost, we would be seeing it.”

  It was common knowledge that cats could see spirits from other planes, though humans seemed to find the idea hard to grasp. What did they think the cats were doing when they stared at the wall or into the corner, apparently at nothing? Since Nero hadn’t seen a ghost at the guesthouse, he was confident that Jed’s spirit had not
returned.

  “But that means the killer is much more dangerous. A human. A human who thinks he or she is getting away with murder,” Harry said.

  Nero’s expression was grim as he looked down at the shovel. “We need to bring this to the attention of the humans before it’s too late. If my guess is correct, the killer is planning to dispose of it once the heat dies down.”

  A rustling in the bushes startled them and they turned, ears like radar dishes figuring out what made the sound.

  “Uh oh,” Poe said. “Looks like we may be too late. Unless I’m totally off my game, that’s the killer and they’ve come back to find a better hiding spot for the murder weapon.”

  Twenty-Three

  Ed should have been working in the west wing, but he wasn’t. We searched the house, finally bumping into him as he came in the back door that led to the overgrown gardens. He seemed surprised to see us and possibly a little bit guilty as he wiped off wet hands on his jeans.

  “So, where have you been?” I asked.

  A flicker of surprise at my accusing tone passed over his kindly face and I was speared with guilt. Was I jumping to conclusions?

  “I was out by the water spigot washing off my paint brushes. I started doing the trim work in the game room. Would you like to see?”

  “Not right now.” I glanced back at Millie. I probably should have prepared a line of questioning or something, but I hadn’t and suddenly didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Millie took over.

  “Ed, we were just talking to Mike and he mentioned something odd about the conservatory,” Millie said.

  Ed straightened, his eyes narrowing. Aha! I hadn’t been jumping to conclusions.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Well, Josie here says that you haven’t done any work in there yet.”

  Ed couldn’t meet my eyes. Or Millie’s. “That’s right.”