A Whisker in the Dark Read online

  A human skeleton.

  “Talk about skeletons in your closet.” Bob came up beside me and leaned forward to peer at the bones.

  Human bones didn’t faze me in the least. I’d been in the middle of training as a medical examiner before giving up my career to raise a family. I immediately took note of the appearance of the bones. They looked dry, brittle. No tendons or flesh stuck to them. The skeleton had been in there for a long time. What was it doing inside the wall? Had it been buried in the wall when the place was built or put in sometime later? And why had no one noticed? Seems like a dead body would have smelled, unless already a skeleton when it was shoved in there.

  Paula dug a nip out of her purse and I recognized the black-and-white label of Jack Daniel’s. Guess discovering a skeleton called for the hard stuff.

  “This calls for a drink!” She downed it in one quick swig to the disapproving glare of her siblings.

  Doris didn’t admonish Paula. She was busy staring at the skeleton. Her face was pinched, her eyes narrowed. She swayed a bit and I was worried she might faint, but it turned out she was just trying to get a closer look. Before I knew it, she was crouched down beside the skeleton, lifting up its hand. It was wearing a ring—gold with an oval carnelian signet.

  “Lordy! It’s Jedediah Biddeford! He’s come back to enact the curse just like he said he would!” Doris dropped the hand and the bones clattered as she shot up to a standing position.

  Ed raised his brows at me.

  The cats sniffed the ring.

  “Wait a minute? What curse?” Arlene’s gaze shifted between Doris, Earl and the skeleton.

  “You didn’t tell her about the curse?” Doris shot a look at Earl.

  Earl shrugged. “It’s just a stupid old wives’ tale.”

  Carla gestured toward the skeleton. “Apparently not. I mean he is here.”

  Earl scowled. “He is not here. That’s just a skeleton. It’s not like it’s his ghost or anything.” He turned to his wife. “There’s an old family legend about an ancestor who will come back and haunt anyone who digs up his treasure.”

  Carla frowned. “Hey, wait. Does that mean someone dug up treasure?”

  Doris’s dark eyes scanned the faces of her children. “Well, did anyone?”

  They shook their heads.

  “I doubt there is an actual treasure…” Bob said slowly. He looked distracted, as if he was wondering if there really was a treasure and, if so, where it might be.

  “We don’t even know that this is Jedediah,” I said. I’d heard about the curse from Millie. Millie’s family had bought the guesthouse from Jedediah’s family back in the day. Apparently old Jedediah Biddeford had issued some curse meant to warn anyone away from the treasure he was planning on bringing back from Europe. He claimed he’d come back and haunt whoever messed with his treasure.

  “That’s his ring.” Doris pointed toward the hand. “I saw an old picture of it once. My granddaddy said Jed always wore it. Never took it off.”

  “But Jedediah never came back from Europe. So that can’t possibly be him in there.” At least that’s what I’d been told.

  Doris looked at me like I had five heads. “Don’t you know? He always said he’d return. And this is the form he’s taken. And if he’s back you know what that means?” She looked around at her kids like a lady who was sure she had the winning lottery ticket. “The treasure came back too.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Paula had dug out another nip. She raised the Jack Daniel’s in the air then threw her head back and chugged it down.

  Ed scowled at Doris. “Lady. This isn’t a ghost. This is a skeleton. He hasn’t come back.” Ed poked at the femur bone with a long old-fashioned oak folding ruler. “This guy’s been in here for a couple hundred years.”

  “What the—”

  I turned to see the guesthouse maid, Flora, in the doorway. Flora had sort of come with the place. Millie had assured me she did a great job. At what, I had no idea because for most of the tasks I gave her, she simply claimed she didn’t “do” that sort of work. I did see her dusting sometimes, but mostly she could be found watching the new TV in the parlor. She must have been on a commercial break and come to check out the ruckus.

  Flora was a tiny thing with a shock of white hair and round glasses that made her eyes look gigantic. I had no idea how old Flora was but if I had to guess I’d say she was about as old as the guesthouse itself. Probably knew Jedediah Biddeford personally.

  She narrowed her gaze at the skeleton. “What’s that?”

  “Jedediah Biddeford,” Doris said.

  Flora’s brows shot up. “You mean the guy who buried the treasure? He really did come back from Europe?”

  Great. Even Flora believed in the curse. That’s all I needed, a bunch of treasure hunters digging up the place.

  Doris nodded. “Yep.”

  “I doubt it’s him,” Ed reiterated.

  “Did he really bury treasure?” Henry seemed interested in something for the first time since he’d arrived.

  “Doubt it.” Earl didn’t sound convinced.

  “Stranger things have happened.” Paula leaned against the wall, probably to keep from falling down.

  “It’s nonsense,” Ed said, waving his hand dismissively. “Old rumors probably got all misconstrued over the years. I’d be more concerned about how the guy got here. Someone stuffed him in and closed up the wall. That’s no curse. That’s murder.”

  The room fell silent as we all let Ed’s words sink in.

  Flora broke the silence. “I don’t know who he is, if he buried treasure or who put him in there, but I do know that I’m not cleaning this mess up. I don’t do skeletons.” She gave me a pointed look and then turned and shuffled off toward the hallway.

  Ed had a point. Whoever the skeleton was, he didn’t get into that wall on his own. And while I didn’t believe in curses and I was darn sure there was no treasure buried at the guesthouse, I did know one thing. This discovery was a police matter.

  I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed the sheriff.

  Nero sat off to the side, preening his sleek black fur as he watched the humans inspect the skeleton. Of course, he and Marlowe had known the skeleton was in the wall for quite some time now, but Josie hadn’t heeded the many warnings they’d given her.

  “If only she’d listened to us two weeks ago when we were trying to alert her by scratching on the wallpaper. Then she wouldn’t have made the guests aware of this gruesome discovery.” Marlowe’s mottled black-and-ginger tail swished on the floor, clearing away a swath of dust.

  “Indeed. Her communication skills are not progressing as quickly as they should.”

  Nero glanced at Josie. They’d inherited the tall redhead when Millie had put them in charge of the guesthouse. Oh sure, it was all disguised as a sale of the property and Millie had told Josie she couldn’t have cats at the senior housing where she was moving and that their continued presence at the guesthouse was a condition of the sale.

  But Nero knew the truth. Millie was getting on in years and wanted to enjoy life free from the responsibility of running a business. She still loved her precious Oyster Cove Guesthouse and had left the most trustworthy being on the planet in charge—Nero. Of course, Marlowe thought that she was also in charge, but Nero knew the responsibility lay mostly with him. Marlowe was, after all, Nero’s protégé and therefore a subordinate. Lord knew Marlowe had a lot to learn, not the least of which was how to investigate a murder properly. At the rate the younger cat was progressing, Nero feared it might be two lifetimes before she came up to speed.

  Still, it didn’t hurt to let Marlowe think she was more important than she was and on equal footing in guesthouse responsibilities. Sometimes one had to let others think things were one way, even when you knew the real truth. Like the fact that Josie thought she was in control of the guesthouse simply because Millie had sold her the property, for example. Silly humans.

  Though much superior, Nero had
to admit cats couldn’t do everything that humans could, so naturally they needed Josie as a frontwoman to run things. Nero also had no desire to concern himself with the more mundane tasks of cooking, laundry, accounting and the like. That’s what humans were for.

  Unfortunately, Josie had proven to be a slow learner. She didn’t listen to them like Millie did. And that’s why she had misunderstood their previous communication about what was inside the wall, thinking it was merely mold or dry rot. Oh well, she would learn eventually. He hoped.

  Marlowe grimaced as the old lady, Doris Biddeford, picked up the skeleton’s hand and let it fall back. “That’s tampering with a crime scene.”

  Nero smiled. As the older and wiser cat, he’d been training Marlowe in the ways of a cat detective. Because that’s what they were, not merely stewards of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse, but also detectives of the feline variety who helped humans solve their cases. The humans had no inkling of their help, of course. It was quite a trick to point them toward clues and reveal suspects, all the while making them think it was their idea.

  “It is of little matter. There will not be much to investigate here,” Nero said.

  Marlowe jerked her gaze toward the skeleton, her face scrunched in disappointment. “What do you mean? There’s a body inside the wall. That guy didn’t get there on his own, just like Ed said.”

  “That much is true, but this death doesn’t warrant a feline investigation. It doesn’t take a forensic anthropologist to see the skeleton has been in there for centuries.” Nero jerked his head toward the skeleton. “I mean look at it, it’s all dried out and smells of old hatred and long-buried criminal intent.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Nero nodded sagely. He usually was right, at least when it came to matters of murder. “What would there be to investigate? The killer is long dead. No suspects to follow or clues to unearth.”

  “Wouldn’t be much fun, I guess.” Marlowe’s disappointment was palpable. Good girl. At least someone here was progressing nicely. Marlowe had made great strides during the last investigation and now wanted to try her hand at another, and that was a good sign. But just not this investigation because there was simply nothing to explore.

  Nero loved nothing more than to sink his claws into a juicy murder, but this death was about as interesting as a week-old can of sardines. “Besides, much of the satisfaction is bringing the killer to justice and this killer is long gone already.”

  Marlowe yawned and stretched out her front paws. “I just wish there was something for us to investigate.”

  Nero didn’t want to get Marlowe’s hopes up, but if his seventh sense was as good as it usually was, there was something going on inside the guesthouse that may need investigation soon. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he’d sensed little undercurrents, sneaky nefarious vibrations. Unfortunately, very soon, Marlowe might get her wish.

  “Odd, none of the guests seem disturbed by this discovery.” Nero studied their faces and posture. He could tell they were interested in the skeleton but not in a who-killed-my-ancestor kind of way. He could also tell that they were all trying to conceal their interest from each other.

  “They seem more excited than anything,” Marlowe said.

  “They are an odd bunch. Don’t seem to like each other much.”

  Marlowe’s green eyes narrowed to luminescent slits. “No. And I think they have secrets.”

  Nero’s whiskers twitched. So Marlowe had noticed the whispers and secret meetings. Good for her.

  “I’m not sure any of them can be trusted,” Nero warned. “Though their business sounds delightful. All that cheese.”

  “Odd business, isn’t it? Cheese sculptures? Wouldn’t think there would be a big call for it among humans.”

  “Maybe that’s why they are not doing well.” Nero sniffed the air. His keen olfactory senses had been flooded with the scents of Brie and cheddar since the new guests had arrived. It was enough to drive a cat mad. “Though I think their business not doing well is due more to infighting.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me there. I don’t know how Josie stands it with them constantly snapping at each other,” Marlowe said.

  “I think Josie is just happy to have paying guests. At least that’s how I’d look at it,” Nero said. “She’s practical and that’s a good way to be. Now if only we could get her to actually pay attention to us.”

  “Do you think we’ve been too soft on her?”

  Nero thought about it for a second. There was a fine line between creating a bond with your human and spoiling them to the point where they thought they were in control. “I’ve been taking her seat every night in the chair she loves to sit in in the parlor. You know, the overstuffed comfy one that shows off the black hairs I shed?”

  “Yeah, and I’ve been lying on her keyboard when she wants to type, then sticking my tail in her face when she tries to move me.”

  “And we’ve been going into the dining room when the guests are in there eating, just like she asked us not to.” Nero glanced up at Josie. She did seem to be taking command of the situation. At least she wasn’t swooning or acting all weirded out about the skeleton. “Maybe we are expecting progress too quickly. I mean, she did finally get our drift about the murder a few weeks ago.”

  “Yes, that is something at least.” Marlowe threaded her way through Doris Biddeford’s ankles. “Do you think there really is treasure out there somewhere?”

  Nero’s whiskers twitched at the mention of treasure. Oh, how fun that would be. His claws itched to grab onto some dirt and really dig. But if there had been treasure on the grounds, surely his superior senses would have alerted him long ago. “Doubtful. Though by the looks of the humans, they might believe in such a thing.”

  Marlowe finished her route around the humans’ ankles and trotted back to where Nero was under the window. “Come on, let’s go claw some dirt out of those plants in the conservatory. Millie brought them even though Josie hasn’t had Ed finish the room yet and no one will even notice we’ve been near them. I’m in the mood for digging.”

  “Perfect. Josie won’t like that at all.” Nero stood and stretched.

  “Yes, one more way to show her she doesn’t own us.”

  “Good thinking.” Josie had made the mistake of saying that once and it really stuck in Nero’s craw. Apparently, Marlowe felt the same.

  “I just hope Josie doesn’t withhold treats once she discovers the mess,” Marlowe said as she led the way out.

  Nero paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder at the Biddefords, who were talking animatedly while Josie called the cops on her cell phone. “Me either. But somehow I have the feeling a little dirt and an old skeleton are going to be the least of Josie’s problems.”

  Three

  “Who says he never made it to Europe? Maybe this happened when he got back from Europe,” Mom whispered to Millie and me in the hall after the sheriff, Seth, had kicked us out of the room.

  Millie nodded. “Good point, Rose. But either way, whoever did it is long gone. Still, maybe we could do some research and come up with a list of possible suspects.”

  “Might not be very much fun though if we can’t confront the culprit and see him arrested,” Mom said as she and Millie slowed to a crawl. Apparently, they couldn’t walk fast while their minds were full of the possibility of a new investigation.

  I sped ahead and continued down the hallway. The Biddefords had all disappeared and I felt it was my duty to make sure they weren’t shaken by these new events. Whoever was in the wall was likely a relative… or had been murdered by one.

  I heard a murmur of conversation from the dining room and headed in that direction. The Biddefords were there, but they weren’t sitting in shocked silence contemplating their lost ancestor as I’d imagined. They were scarfing up the remains of the breakfast. There were no sniffles, or muted grieving tones. The room was abuzz with excitement.

  “I’ll tell you exactly what
this means,” Doris said. “This means that Jedediah really did bury that treasure.”

  “I thought the curse was that he would come back to enact some revenge on anyone who messed with his treasure. Doesn’t seem like he came back to me. Looks like he’d been there the whole time.” Paula strolled along the server looking at what was left of breakfast. She stopped in front of the pumpkin bread and my heart leapt. Would she cut a piece? I wondered if the excessive drinking had dulled her pallet. Then again, that might be a good thing if she was going to eat my pumpkin bread.

  Doris pinched off a piece of bacon and fed it to Nero, who was skulking around under the table. Darn cat, I’d told him not to go in the dining room when guests were eating. They never listened. I was sure Marlowe wasn’t far behind either. Yep, her tail was sticking out from under Earl’s chair.

  “Nonsense! You know how those old curses are, they get all mixed up because they’re handed down generation to generation. It’s like that game where you whisper in each other’s ears and by the time it gets to the end, it’s not even close to what it was when it started. The specifics of the curse might have been different too. But there’s one thing for sure. He did come back—seeing as his skeleton was found in the wall,” Doris said.

  Her children looked at her with a mixture of doubt and greed in their eyes.

  Paula picked up a knife, her hand hovering over the loaf. I held my breath.

  “Did anyone try a piece of this?” Paula bent down and sniffed. She eyed the loaf as if it were trying to trick her, then put the knife down.

  No one answered her.

  “Maybe I’ll just have some more eggs.” She scooped some onto a plate and returned to her seat.

  “But now what does it mean? If he came back doesn’t that mean someone took his treasure? And how, exactly, will he get revenge?” Arlene asked.