“We meet the others.” Nero headed toward the cat door that Millie had installed for them in the old storeroom on the first floor.
Nighttime was Nero’s favorite time to visit the bait wharf. He loved the play of the moonlight on the waves and the fact that the gulls were all tucked in their nests—or wherever they went at night—and wouldn’t be rudely swooping down on them.
When they arrived on the docks, Harry was sticking his paw in the water trying to skewer a fish with his sharpened claws. He did this all the time, although Nero didn’t know why. It had only worked once and even then Harry had been so surprised that he fumbled the fish and it slipped back into the water with nary a backwards glance.
The gang was all there. Juliette lounged on the concrete slab under the tuna scale. It was probably still warm from the sun beating on it all day. Stubbs was curled up on top of a lobster trap, his tail around his nose. One green eye slid open as Nero and Marlowe approached. Poe and Boots had been batting around a piece of rope and they stopped and turned to Nero.
“Anymore news about that movie producer?” Nero asked.
Stubbs yawned and sat up. “I put a tail on that nosey dame reporter, Anita Pendragon. She met with that movie mogul. She’s involved in something.”
Nero nodded. No surprise there. “Has anyone picked up any other clues about the murder?”
Boots bestowed his look of superiority on them. “I have heard that it is someone closely tied to the guesthouse.”
Marlowe practically rolled her eyes. “No one else in town knew her, so that’s kind of a given.”
Boots looked down his nose at Marlowe. “Are you sure about that?”
Marlowe frowned and glanced at Nero who nodded his head slightly. It was most likely that the killer knew Madame Zenda and he was certain she didn’t know anyone in town.
“What about the buckle?” Nero asked.
“Nothing new on that,” Harry said. “I talked to Louie Two Paws earlier today. The police haven’t made much progress. They are checking out all those guests at the guesthouse. Seems that some of them have a shady past. But nothing new on the buckle.”
Shady past. Nero wasn’t surprised at that either. Judging by the way they acted so secretive amongst each other at the guesthouse, he knew they were the type that would often be up to something.
“What about you?” Juliette purred. “You’re in the guesthouse with all of the suspects. Surely you have found out something by now? And have you followed up on my clue about your velvety jogging-suit wearing guest and the movie producer?”
“We didn’t find anything in his room, but we do have something on the buckle that might be of interest,” Marlowe said.
Poe turned to look at her. “Do tell.”
“Jed’s ghost verified that his shoes are missing from a trunk in the attic. The shoes with the buckle,” Marlowe said. “Jed’s suit is in there and all his other things, but no shoes.”
“So someone has been in the attic,” Stubbs said.
“Looks that way,” Nero said. “Though I don’t see how. Josie keeps it locked.”
“And the buckle on Madame Zenda really was Jed’s buckle?” Poe asked.
“Most likely,” Nero said.
“Points to one of those guests even more,” Juliette said. “But you found no indication in their rooms that they were the culprit? No drippy red pens or smells of old buckles?”
“No,” Nero admitted. “But we have made another enlightening discovery.”
The other cats stilled and looked at him in anticipation. He drew the moment out for a few seconds basking in the attention, then continued. “We know for sure that the treasure is long gone.”
Boots frowned. “The ghost told you that?”
“Sort of. He suspected such and once he remembered exactly where he had buried it, he had one of the guests dig it up. Marlowe and I inspected the hole ourselves and it’s been empty for centuries.” Nero felt a bit sad about that. Josie could have used the money to complete renovations on the guesthouse. If she had treasure, she could get out from under Myron’s thumb.
Juliette looked at him curiously. “So Jed is talking to the guests. They’re not all frauds?”
“Nope. Turns out at least one, Esther Hill, really can talk to ghosts. Jed has been communicating with her through her crystal ball,” Marlowe said.
“Is that so?” Boots tugged on his long whisker, curling it up at the ends in that showy way he preferred. “Well then, surely this Esther Hill has made it known that she can communicate with Jed? After all, that seems to be the reason they are all at the guesthouse, so they can earn their way to fame in the movie.”
Nero and Marlowe exchanged a glance. Esther had been very quiet about her communications with Jed. She hadn’t bragged once about talking to the ghost. “No, actually I don’t think she has.”
“Well, maybe not to anyone at the guesthouse,” Marlowe said. “We don’t know if she has mentioned it to Anita Pendragon. She might not want the others to know that she can talk to Jed because… well… look what happened to Madame Zenda after she announced that she was going to talk to him.”
Nero nodded enthusiastically. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of that but was proud that Marlowe had. “Yeah. Good point.”
Stubbs poked around in one of the lobster traps. “If Esther is keeping quiet because she’s afraid the killer will target her next, then that means she isn’t the killer.”
“There’s something else that may be in play here.” Poe paced the outskirts of the group, his tail swishing, head down, apparently deep in thought.
“What?” they all asked.
He stopped and faced them. “Thus far, we’ve been assuming that Madame Zenda was killed because she said she could talk to Jed’s ghost. Whoever killed her didn’t want her talking to the ghost because they wanted the fame. A movie deal would be quite lucrative. Or that someone had a vendetta against her.”
“We did determine that most of them have crossed paths before,” Nero said.
“Yeah, Esther knew her real name,” Marlowe added.
“And a movie deal could make them a lot of money.” Juliette preened behind her ears. “Don’t forget I did find the clue about Victor talking to the movie producer.”
“How could we forget?” Poe asked. “But let us consider another reason. What if the murder wasn’t about Madame Zenda at all? What if it was about the guesthouse?”
Nero didn’t like the way that sounded. “What do you mean?”
“The body was found with the buckle and a warning to stay away from the guesthouse. Maybe that’s what the killer really wanted—for people to stay away—and Madame Zenda just happened to be a convenient target.”
“Why would someone want to scare people away from the guesthouse?” Marlowe asked.
Poe shrugged. “Beats me. But if I’m right, then whoever it is has a reason worth killing for.”
Seventeen
The next morning breakfast went off without a hitch. The waffles came out golden brown and the guests slathered them in maple syrup and piled them on their plates. The frittata was cooked to perfection and not dry. I might be getting the hang of this cooking business after all…
I had a little bit of a scare when the cats started meowing in that way they do when something is wrong—like, for example, there’s a dead body on the property—but thankfully everyone was accounted for and near as I could tell no bodies littered the grounds.
I hadn’t forgotten about how the cats had tried to lure me to the attic, but they’d scattered after breakfast, so I decided to clean up while I waited for them to come back. I felt very strongly that wandering around up there by myself would be a waste of time. If the cats really did have something to show me, they’d be back.
Mom and Millie turned up while I was loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. It was a mystery to me as to how they usually ended up walking through the door just as I put the last dish in. They did have impeccable
timing. I was too eager to tell them about my research from the night before and how I’d seen Esther sneaking around the property to marvel at how they always managed to get out of cleaning up. Maybe Flora had learned it from them.
“At least we know that Victor and Madame Zenda knew each other, but I suppose that’s no big surprise. Why do you think Esther would be sneaking around?” Millie whispered after I told them about the cruise that Madame Zenda, Esther and Victor were on and how I’d seen Esther outside. “Maybe she was just out for a walk.”
“Nope. She was definitely sneaking. Skulking along the shrubs and looking behind her,” I said. “Looking for the trea—”
“Shhh!” Mom’s eyes were wide and she was gesturing not so subtly over my shoulder. I turned to see Esther in the doorway.
“Well, I’m just irate!” Esther hadn’t seemed to notice we’d been huddled in a group whispering.
“You are? Why?” I imagined all sorts of reasons she could be mad, ranging from the breakfast making her sick to Flora not cleaning her room properly to stumbling over another dead body. I prayed it wasn’t the latter.
“That banker guy… Marvin somebody—” Esther said.
“Myron Remington,” Mom said.
“Yeah, whoever. Short guy, owns the bank? I heard downtown at the post office that he’s been badgering you.” Esther turned kind eyes on me. She really did seem concerned about me and mad at Myron. Who could blame her? He did have a way about him that made people angry.
Millie didn’t see Esther in the same light as I did, if her narrowed eyes and accusatory tone were any indication. “Just what were you doing at the post office?”
Esther blinked. “Mailing postcards. I always do that when I visit a new town.”
“Oh.” Millie looked disappointed that her question hadn’t tripped up Esther, but I could see that she was assessing her to determine if she was lying about the postcards.
“Anyway, this place is so lovely I hate to think that nasty little man is being so controlling with the money. This magnificent house deserves to be restored.” She lowered her voice. “I heard he was making noises about taking back your loan.”
My heart twisted. Had that rumor been going around town? Esther could have easily heard it at the post office since that’s where most rumors were spread.
“Well, I hope he isn’t serious about that,” I managed to squeak out.
“Me too. This place has great spirit vibes. Intelligent ghosts. Wonderful history.” Esther’s eyes sparkled.
Millie perked up. She always did when someone complimented the guesthouse. “It is a special place. And not just the inside, either. The grounds are lovely.” Millie glanced out the window at the overgrown garden. “Well, the yard needs some work. Have you been out in the grounds at all?”
Esther looked down at her shoes. “Not really. I mean, I was out at Betty Sue’s body and I’ve sat on the porch.”
Maybe Millie was right to be suspicious because that was one whopper of a lie.
“What about the old buildings on the property? Some of them have great history.” I gave her a chance to fess up. Maybe she just hadn’t mentioned it or had forgotten.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t go near any of those old buildings. Nope. Never ventured far from the house. Well, except when we found Betty Sue, of course.” Esther cocked her head to the side as if listening to something in the hall. She seemed nervous. “I think I hear Victor. I better get back there. Wouldn’t want him to get a leg up on talking to Jed’s ghost. Good luck with your renovations.”
Millie’s brows shot up as Esther hurried out of the room. “Well, if that don’t beat all. I say that woman has something to hide.”
“She did seem genuinely concerned about the guesthouse.” I really did think she was sincere about that.
“Probably a ploy to throw us off track,” Mom said.
Meow!
Nero and Marlowe were sitting at the bottom of the back stairs; their unblinking gaze reminded me that I still hadn’t had a chance to get up into the attic.
Millie rushed over to pet them, but apparently they had other things on their minds. They accepted a few quick pets on the head but then started to meow and pace around, putting one foot on the stairs and then glancing at us.
“I think they want to show us something,” I said.
Mom looked at me funny, but Millie didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “It’s about time you started to understand their subtle communications. Hmmm… now let me see. It’s the attic, right?” She addressed her question to Nero, who meowed loudly and started up the stairs.
We followed the cats up the narrow creaky stairs. No wonder I never took these things; the ceiling was low, the walls closed in. It was claustrophobic. I got a little winded by the second floor but Mom and Millie practically ran up and I didn’t want to seem like a wimp, so I pressed on, even though the increase in temperature as we ascended caused sweat to drip down my back.
When we got to the top of the stairs I unlocked the door with the old skeleton key that I’d grabbed from the butler’s pantry, and the door opened with an ominous creak.
I’d only been up in the attic once, when I had looked over the place to buy it, and then I’d only peeked in. Even though I’d spent a lot of time at the guesthouse as a little girl, the attic had held no interest for me and now I could see why. It was dusty and full of cobwebs. Big cobwebs. I looked around for the spiders that lived in them, but they must have all scurried to dark corners.
There must have been a dozen generations’ cast-offs up here. During the negotiations to purchase the place, Millie had vaguely mentioned it came with all sorts of antiques and things I could use for the guesthouse. She’d made it sound like a bonus, but I’d been skeptical. Turns out I was right, the place was crammed full of things that needed some sort of repair and a good clean.
Nero and Marlowe led us on a path between old pieces of furniture, lamps and boxes. They trotted straight to the oldest part of the house. I sneezed a dozen times as our footsteps kicked up dust from the thick layer that was on the floor. It was so thick that the cats’ paws had made little prints in it as they’d walked ahead. I could see they’d been here a couple of times judging by the number of paw prints.
Up ahead, the cats were perched on an ancient trunk, their eyes tracking us as we approached.
“This is all the old stuff that was here when I was a little girl.” Millie looked around at the piled-up junk. This section did appear to have items that were much older… and much more deteriorated.
“The trunk looks ancient.” The cats hopped off as I approached. They stood at my feet, looking up at me as if encouraging me to open it. If I had any doubts before that the cats were trying to communicate, I didn’t now.
“That’s a steamer trunk,” Mom said. “For going on ships. Very old.”
“It must have belonged to Jedediah Biddeford!” Millie lifted the top. It creaked and groaned as she pulled it up gently.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mom said as she peered in.
“The old buckle.” Millie reached in and started pushing the items aside. The smell of mildew wafted up and I sneezed again.
The trunk contained old clothing and personal items. Mom gingerly held up the shoulders of a disintegrating tweed suit. “This looks like the suit Jed was wearing in that drawing. You know, the one in the Oyster Cove history book.”
Millie glanced at the suit. “It sure does. And if that’s in here, maybe those shoes are in here. And if the shoes are in here… are the buckles with them or is one missing?”
We carefully moved the items aside. No shoes.
“No shoes. No buckles.” Millie looked excited. “Do you think this is where the killer got the buckle from?”
“Who had been up here?” Mom asked.
“Ed said he heard someone and thought it was Anita Pendragon.” I glanced around at the dusty attic floor. “But…”
“Any of the guests could have snuck up here, t
hough,” Millie said.
“Wait, something isn’t right.” I swiped my finger through the thick layer of dust on an oak table that sat beside the trunk. “The floor was covered in dust when we came up. The only thing disturbing the path to this trunk was the cats’ paw prints. I remember looking at them.”
We all looked back toward the path, which of course was now marred with our own footprints. “There’s another path from the corner there.” Millie pointed to a row of furniture and boxes, which had been pushed aside to form a narrow path, but it had a layer of undisturbed dust. “Hmmm, no footprints there. So how would someone have gotten to the trunk?”
“They couldn’t. Not unless they hopped across the furniture,” I said.
“Or floated over like a ghost.” Mom glanced around the room as if expecting one.
“There is no ghost.” Millie closed the trunk. “The shoes and buckle were probably never in here. We don’t know for sure that the buckle on Madame Zenda was actually Jed’s. I’m sure there are other old buckles that look like his. Now let’s get a move on, we have suspects to scrutinize. This buckle angle is a dead end.”
Meow! Nero hopped up on the trunk and cast an accusatory glare at Millie.
Meroo! Marlowe weaved on the path in front of us.
“I know you guys mean well.” Millie picked up steam as we neared the attic door. “But I’m not sure what you wanted to tell us. We already know this is all about the psychics pretending they are talking to Jed. Is that what you were trying to tell us?”
Meoooo.
Meope.
Millie ignored the cats’ meows as we funneled out onto the second-floor landing. Flora was there, dusting a bench that sat underneath the window. She gave our dusty clothes a look of disapproval and then tried to dust Mom off with her feather duster.
“What have you people been doing up in the attic? It’s dirty up there and I have enough work as it is,” Flora said.
“We were just looking for something.” Millie pushed the duster away as Flora turned it on her.
A Purrfect Alibi: A pawsitively gripping cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 3) Page 11
