A Whisker in the Dark

by Leighann Dobbs

  I patted her hand for comfort. “Simple is better, sometimes.”

  Doris nodded. “They’re not bad children, you know. Even though they each have their little quirks. I blame my husband for making them so lazy and selfish. He wanted them to have it easier than we did and didn’t want them to work as hard. Barney and I started the business from scratch, you know.”

  “You don’t say. What made you start a cheese-sculpting business?” I asked.

  Doris smiled at the memory. “Barney used to make little sculptures out of cheese for parties and all our friends loved them. It was just a silly hobby, but then people started asking if they could order specific sculptures. Next thing we knew, we were shipping out of state and running a full-blown business.” Doris swiped at the tears drying on her cheeks. “When the kids were grown, we brought them in, and when Barney died they took over. Sometimes when you get something for nothing, you don’t appreciate it. You don’t work as hard. I’ve used up all my retirement income supplementing the business.”

  I nodded. I knew how that was. I’d worked my whole marriage to make things good for my husband and he hadn’t appreciated it one bit. I’d put my whole life savings into the guesthouse and my future depended on its success. I sure as heck was going to work my butt off and not let it fall to ruin like Doris’s cheese-sculpting business. All the more reason to clear up this murder fast. I’d do just about anything to make sure my business was a success.

  Hey, wait a minute… hadn’t Doris mentioned spending her retirement income earlier in reference to the treasure? She’d looked pretty serious too. But surely she wouldn’t bash her own son over the head in order to grab the treasure from him?

  “Of course, some of them don’t have a lick of sense and that might be part of it. Take Carla, for example.” Doris shook her head and looked out the window. “Now before we started digging, we discussed where the old homestead was located in Jedediah’s day. Even though he started off with a pretty big house, it’s been added to quite a bit over the years. Carla knew the gazebo didn’t exist on the grounds back then, it was added after Millie’s people bought it.”

  I nodded. Apparently talking had comforted her. She was more animated and not as sad now. “I’m going to have that restored, the gazebo.”

  “Good idea, but Carla should have been smarter. See, that’s why the business is failing.” Doris tapped her head with her forefinger. “They don’t use their smarts.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because last night when we were digging, I saw Carla coming from the gazebo. Now we know Jedediah wouldn’t bury treasure there because there was nothing there in his day. No trees, no landmarks, nothing, and everyone knows, when you bury treasure, you need a landmark so you can locate it later.”

  I thought about that. Why would Carla be digging in a place unlikely to have treasure? Did she know something the others didn’t? The gazebo wasn’t near the pond, but could she have killed Bob at the pond, then taken a long route to get away? Maybe she’d gotten lost in the overgrown bushes and grasses and found her way out at the gazebo.

  A ruckus in the hallway interrupted my thoughts.

  “That’s preposterous. Who would wear fine Italian leather shoes to go digging in the yard?” It was Earl. Millie had obviously talked to Seth, who was questioning him about the shoes.

  “Who knows what people wear to dig? Now answer the question. Do you have Ferragamo shoes?” Seth said.

  “Yes, but I was wearing Nikes,” Earl said, “and I can prove it.”

  Doris and I went into the hallway in time to see Earl stomping up the stairs. We heard him rip open his door, then slam it shut loudly.

  We all stood around looking at each other.

  “What’s this about?” Doris asked.

  “Your daughter Paula seems to think she saw fancy Ferragamo shoes when she was passed out on the bench before Flora ran past,” Millie said.

  Doris scrunched up her face. “Are you people colluding? Trying to get my daughter to say something that she didn’t really see? I mean, you know she’s not that reliable.” Doris made nip-tipping gestures with her thumb and forefinger against her lips.

  “I’m just being thorough,” Seth assured her. He narrowed his eyes at Millie. “We won’t be playing favorites here.”

  After what seemed like ages, Earl came running down the stairs with a pair of white Nikes in his hand. He threw them down on the round table in the foyer so hard that the Tiffany bird lamp with the delicate stained-glass shade wobbled precariously. I cringed as I pictured the dirt in between the treads caking off onto Millie’s grandmother’s hand-tatted white doily.

  “See?” Earl pointed at the mud caked on the side of his shoes. “Those are the shoes I was wearing last night, so if my sister claims she saw someone with Ferragamo shoes walking past her, then it wasn’t me.”

  Fourteen

  The pungent smell of dead fish tickled Nero’s nostrils as he came around the side of the harbormaster’s station.

  “Ah, we’re in luck. They’ve got fish scraps.” Marlowe picked up speed. Likely, she wanted to get to the others before the scraps were gone.

  The other cats were already hunkered down near the lobster traps. Poe was chowing down on a halibut head. Juliette was finishing off a haddock tail. Stubbs was industriously picking clean the bones of a cod. Boots must have just finished eating and was now fastidiously preening his whiskers.

  As Nero approached, a gull swooped down and attempted to steal a piece of fish away from Harry. Harry hung on with one claw. “Hey, give it back.”

  Caw!

  The gull flapped its wings with its beak deep into the morsel of fish.

  Harry tugged. The gull pulled back.

  “That’s mine, go get your own.” Harry tried to grab at the fish with both paws but the gull was stronger. He ripped the meat out of Harry’s paw and flew off. Nero could have sworn the gull’s cry sounded like “ha ha!”

  “Stupid gulls. They’re a nuisance.” Harry sat back on his haunches and preened.

  “I agree.” Juliette pushed a piece of her haddock over to Harry.

  Stubbs finished picking the last bit off the bones of his cod and tossed a perfectly formed fish skeleton into the water, then looked at Nero. “So, what’s going on? You guys figure out who plugged the vic?”

  “He wasn’t plugged,” Nero said. “He was bludgeoned with a shovel.”

  “Hit from behind,” Marlowe added.

  “From behind? So it wasn’t a fight, then?” Boots’s green eyes brimmed with curiosity. “Do you think they got him by surprise?”

  “Good question. Someone could have snuck up on him, I suppose, or maybe he knew the person and wasn’t afraid to turn his back. I don’t see how that narrows it down much though.”

  “It could have been one of his siblings, he was on the outs with all of them,” Marlowe said.

  “Have you located the shovel that was used as the murder weapon yet?” Harry asked.

  Nero shook his head. “It could be anywhere.”

  “That makes our job harder. Almost everyone in town was out there last night with a shovel.” Boots tugged at his whiskers. “But you said you heard the victim argue with someone?”

  “Several people,” Nero said. “Marlowe and I heard him argue with Earl.”

  “And Josie heard him arguing with Carla. Josie claims that Carla even made a threatening comment about him,” Marlowe added.

  “And Millie heard him arguing with Paula,” Nero said.

  “What were they arguing about?” Juliette asked.

  “Seems like it all stems from their cheese-sculpting business. It’s not doing well. It seems Bob had made threats to each of them.”

  “What kind of threats?” Stubbs asked.

  “It would appear Bob had something on them and might have been about to expose what he knew.”

  The cats looked pensive. Everyone knew that mixing family with business was fraught with danger, especially if that
business was having problems.

  “Sounds like tempers might have been high. And maybe someone didn’t want Bob to make good on his threats,” Harry said.

  “Bob was the most disruptive one, maybe Doris did him in so they could have harmony in the company again?” Marlowe suggested.

  Juliette hissed. “The mother? I don’t think a mother would kill one of her kits. Not unless there was something wrong with it.”

  “Sounds like there was plenty wrong with this Bob character,” Harry said.

  “Yeah, it’s the age-old motive. Silence anyone who might drop the dime on you or is getting in the way of something you really want,” Stubbs agreed.

  Poe picked a piece of fish out of his teeth with a razor-sharp claw. “In any case, I think we should be able to get some cheese samples out of this job. Maybe a pinch of Parmesan or a wedge of Wensleydale or a morsel of mozzarella.”

  Juliette frowned at him. “Mozzarella? Do you think they would have that? I don’t think you can sculpt mozzarella. It’s not firm enough.”

  “But it is delicious.”

  “True.” Juliette smacked her lips together. “Maybe with some little tomatoes and basil or—”

  “Kids,” Nero cut in. “Let’s stick to the question at hand. What course of action should we take to ferret out the killer? As you heard, our dear friend Flora has been accused by one of the siblings and of course we must make sure this doesn’t reflect badly on Josie.”

  “We all know Flora could not have committed such a heinous crime,” Boots said.

  “Surely Seth Chamberlain won’t think it’s Josie again? She has no motive,” Stubbs added.

  Juliette jumped on top of the lobster traps. She often liked to get up higher than the rest so she could look down upon them, especially when she thought she had information that she considered to be important. “Don’t forget, I heard the woman confessing about betraying her family. I believe that could have been the killer trying to clear her conscience before committing the crime.”

  “Do you think you would be able to recognize her voice? Was she one of the siblings at the crime scene earlier?” Nero asked.

  Juliette shook her head. “In the confessional people whisper so you can’t recognize the tone that way. But it does narrow our suspect list down to a woman.”

  “Who confesses to a murder before they commit it?” Stubbs asked. “The confession could have been about something else. I don’t want to narrow down the list prematurely.”

  Juliette gave him a haughty look and jumped down off the lobster trap. “Fine, then you come up with a plan.”

  “I have a plan,” Nero said. “I want you all to canvas the town. Sniff out all the shovels, see if you can find the murder weapon among them. The cops took the shovels from the Oyster Cove Guesthouse toolshed, but only the Biddefords used those shovels. If the killer is someone else, the shovel could be hidden somewhere around town.”

  “Yeah, we can’t forget that the guesthouse grounds were lousy with diggers last night. Anyone could have whacked him,” Stubbs said.

  “Poe, Stubbs, Boots, you check around the alleys and benches downtown. See if you can overhear anything or pinpoint guilty behavior. Harry, get the word out to your network that we are looking for the killer.” Harry was a scrappy street cat with a network of informants that would rival any cable network.

  Harry nodded.

  “Juliette, you stick close to the confessional at the rectory in case our confessor comes back. If your theory is correct, they may need to cleanse their soul of the guilt.”

  Juliette swished her tail in agreement.

  “Meanwhile, Marlowe and I will investigate the rooms at the guesthouse. If someone is hiding something there, we’ll find it.”

  It was almost noon by the time Seth finished interviewing everyone and departed. Mom and Millie had left me with the ingredients and instructions for the apple-pecan bread and I had baked a trial loaf, which I left cooling on the counter before meeting Mom and Millie downtown to make the final touches on the Oyster Cove Guesthouse table at the town celebration. I hadn’t burned the cake this time, though it did smell a little bit like sour cider. At least I was making progress.

  The Biddefords were ambling around the guesthouse, talking in hushed tones. They seemed to be in a somber mood again. I couldn’t imagine one of them had killed Bob, though the alternatives were also not that great. It had either been one of them, someone from town or Flora. Speaking of Flora, I hadn’t seen her since she’d talked to Seth in the kitchen, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It wasn’t like she’d skip town or anything.

  The town common was full of activity again. This time tourists were milling about, sampling the goods here and picking up brochures there. This weekend even more tents would be set up on the other side, part of a gigantic craft fair after the parade. The mood was festive, and maybe word about the murder hadn’t spread yet.

  Stella Dumont was hovering around her table. She wore a tight V-neck shirt and a pound of makeup, and was meticulously fussing with her brochures, arranging them just so and standing back to admire the presentation. I glanced back at my table where my brochures lay in a messy pile. I sauntered over and started arranging them, peeking surreptitiously at Stella to see how she was doing hers.

  “No copying. Just like in high school, Josie,” Stella said.

  “I wasn’t copying.” Where were Mom and Millie? They had requested I meet them here and I hoped they’d hurry so I didn’t have to talk to Stella for too long.

  “You’re always after the things I have. Like Mike,” Stella said.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I heard you were after Myron now.”

  Stella’s brows knit together and she laughed then continued fussing with her brochures.

  “I think you’re after what I have now,” I said.

  Stella paused what she was doing and looked up at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you in my yard digging for treasure last night,” I said. Technically that wasn’t correct. I hadn’t seen her in my yard, just scoping it out. But Millie had said she’d seen Stella and Myron so I figured that was almost as good as seeing her there myself.

  “Oh, that. I just wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Who believes there is still an old treasure there anyway? That’s silly.”

  “Well, lots of the townspeople were there so apparently not everyone thinks it’s silly,” I said.

  “People love to gamble. Look at how many play the lottery. People just came out because there was a chance there is treasure. I don’t think too many actually believe in it.” In the corner of the tent sat Myron, donning his perfectly pressed suit. He’d snagged a young couple and was pointing to something in one of his brochures. Trying to sell them a loan no doubt. “Even people who already have money can be lured by the dream of finding treasure—even if they don’t deserve more.”

  What was that all about? She sounded mad at Myron. Had he given her the brush-off? She couldn’t really be interested in him, could she? Maybe it was all his family money. Mike was a lot more handsome. Not that I was comparison shopping or anything.

  Her words made me wonder. Why would Myron be out there digging when there was only a slim chance anything would be found? He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty and his family came from old money. Maybe the bank wasn’t doing well… was that why they had a table here? The First Oyster Cove Bank and Trust didn’t usually need to drum up business. It was the only bank around and everyone in town used them for their checking accounts, loans, investments and savings.

  “How’d the bread come out?” Somehow Millie and Mom had snuck up and were standing beside me.

  “Not too bad. At least I didn’t burn it.”

  “That’s good.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And what about the suspects? Did anyone blurt out a confession?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The closest we came was Earl with the shoes.”

  “Those shoes! Can you believe
he put them down on Grandma Sullivan’s tatted doily?” Millie glanced up at me. “Flora did clean that off, didn’t she? I hope it doesn’t stain.”

  I wondered about that. Flora cleaning it, I mean, not the staining. Flora had made herself scarce after talking to Seth in the kitchen and I couldn’t really say I blamed her. It doesn’t feel very good to be accused of killing someone—I should know.

  I made a mental note to check on the doily as soon as I got home. Millie seemed distraught about it, so I wanted to make sure it got cleaned even if I had to do it myself.

  “Actually, I haven’t seen Flora since we talked with her and Seth this morning.” I glanced over at the grandmothers of twins’ table, but Flora wasn’t there. “She didn’t say she was taking any time off, but she might have been busy cleaning when I left.”

  “Flora? I thought she’d be preparing for her trip.” Annabel Drescher piped in from the table to our left. Clearly, she’d been eavesdropping.

  The table was for the Drescher Travel Agency that Annabel owned. It was decorated in a turquoise-and-coral beachy theme, no doubt to entice innocent celebration-goers into buying one of their expensive Caribbean beach packages. Annabel was dressed to the nines as usual with a fancy tailored suit, understated but expensive jewelry, and what looked like a very expensive leather handbag resting next to her chair. Probably keeping it within arm’s reach in case someone tried to make off with it. Naturally, the handbag matched the pair of designer shoes she had on her size-nine feet.

  “Trip? What do you mean? Flora isn’t going on a trip, is she, Josie?” My mom turned to me and I shook my head. That was the first I’d heard of any trip.

  “Oh yes she is. She was in the travel agency asking about some coordinates.” Annabel straightened some pamphlets.

  “Coordinates?” Millie asked.

  “Yeah you know longitude and latitude. She was a little bit off though because they ended up in the Caribbean Sea but I think she wanted the island of Martinique. At least, that’s the package I’m gonna try to sell her,” Annabel said.