Лейганн Доббс - A Whisker In The Dark

“Your spot on the belfry sure is good for getting an overview of what is going on in town,” Stubbs said. “Easy to get the dime on someone that way.”

“My home at the rectory is good for more than that. I get to hear and see all sorts of things. Like the odd confession I overheard when I was napping in the confessional box this morning.”

“You nap in the confessional box?” Poe asked. “That sounds sacrilegious.”

Juliette’s fur ruffled in offense. “Well, I don’t do it to overhear confessions unless we are investigating a murder where confessions might come in handy. But it’s a lovely place to nap. All dark and cozy and silent. It’s rarely used. I didn’t realize Father Timothy would be hearing a confession and I was fast asleep. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late to leave.”

Nero’s whiskers twitched. He moved closer to Juliette. “What did you hear?”

Juliette’s eyes took on a faraway look as her mind worked to conjure up the conversation. “It was a woman, and she was confessing how regretful it was that she was forced to betray those close to her.”

Eight

I let myself in through the back door in the kitchen of the guesthouse shortly before supper, loaded with bags of ingredients for the peanut-butter-banana bread I was planning to make that night. Millie had said that loaf cakes were the easiest thing to bake, so I was going to trust her on that. I needed something easy. And even though my first few attempts at baking had turned out as hard as hockey pucks, I was still hopeful.

I’d barely gotten the ingredients on the counter when I heard a ruckus in the parlor. The Biddefords were at it again. I figured now would be a good time to talk to them about digging up the yard. I headed toward the parlor, passing a pile of shovels in the foyer on the way. Flora was going to have a fit. Shovels brought in dirt and she barely vacuumed as it was.

“It’s not my fault the Shmithsh canceled the order for twenty miniature cheesh cashtles ,” Paula slurred.

“Well it certainly isn’t mine,” Carla said.

“Children!” Doris yelled. “It’s not anybody’s fault. Things happen in business. All this infighting is making things worse.”

“You can say that again,” Earl said.

Just as I suspected, the entire family was dressed for digging—old jeans, T-shirts. Earl and Arlene’s were of the designer variety, of course. Doris even had mud on her feet. I glanced out the window. Had she already started digging?

“Ahem.” They hadn’t noticed me lurking in the doorway, so I cleared my throat to capture their attention. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring dirty shovels into the house. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t dig up the yard, either.”

Doris hurried over to me. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’ll fill the holes back in. We’re just looking for the treasure buried by our ancestor.” Doris glanced behind her for confirmation and the others nodded.

“Yeah. We won’t disrupt your property or anything,” Bob said.

I gazed at them skeptically then back at the shovels. Earl saw me looking and hastily added, “We’ll keep the shovels in that old carriage house so the guesthouse doesn’t get dirty.”

He pointed toward the dilapidated building that had been a carriage house when the mansion was in service. Even though it was overgrown with vines and needed a paint job badly, Mike had assured me it was still safe when I’d bought the place. At least if they kept their shovels there that would keep most of the dirt out.

But there was something else bothering me. It was the way Doris had said our ancestor in reference to the treasure. It made me wonder, if there really was any treasure, then who actually owned it? Wouldn’t it belong to me since I now owned the property?

I didn’t think now was a good time to bring that up; I could practically see dollar signs in the Biddefords’ eyes. Odds were against a treasure being buried out there anyway and even more odds against them finding it. I’d cross that bridge when and if we came to it.

Earl went to the foyer and started gathering up the shovels and I returned to the kitchen. I laid out the ingredients on the counter. Peanut butter, bananas, flour, milk, sugar, baking soda and baking powder.

I pulled the old jadeite green batter bowls from the cupboard, preheated the oven and started mixing things together. Millie would’ve been proud. Of course, when she baked, she didn’t spew flour in a ten-foot radius all around her like I did. Guess I still had plenty of room for improvement.

I kept one eye on the ingredients and the other on the yard. A movement coming from the front of the house caught my eye. It was Bob. He rushed past the window, a shovel clutched in his hand. Getting an early jump on his siblings?

He headed toward the carriage house, glancing behind him as if to make sure no one had followed.

Did Bob know something about the treasure that the others didn’t? How would they go about locating Jed’s cache, I wondered? How would they know where to dig? Were they just going to randomly dig holes? Or did they have a plan in mind?

I ladled the batter into two loaf pans. It looked good. I bent down and sniffed. And it smelled good. The real test would be if it tasted good. Only one way to find out. I opened the oven and shoved them inside.

No sooner had I finished that when a loud knock on the front door echoed through the house. I brushed the flour off my hands and rushed to the front. I had no idea who it could be since the door was unlocked during the day and the guests just walked in. Maybe it was a tourist wanting to check out the place to rent a room at a later date.

I’m sure I didn’t hide my disappointment very well when I opened the door to reveal that it was Sheriff Chamberlain. Nevertheless, I invited him into the foyer.

“Hey, Josie, I just wanted to come and retrieve the police tape and markers from the crime scene.”

“You’re done with your investigation?” I asked as I led him toward the west wing.

“Yep, done as we’re gonna be.” Seth spread his hands. “I mean, what’s to investigate?”

I unlocked the door and we proceeded over to the area where the skeleton had been found. Sheriff Chamberlain pulled the crime-scene tape off the edges of the wall and picked up the yellow crime-scene markers.

“So you’re not going to go figure out who killed him?” I asked. I know the guy was killed a long time ago, but it didn’t seem right not to bring his killer to justice, even if we couldn’t arrest them and bring them to trial.

Seth leveled a look at me. “Josie. There would be no suspects to interrogate. We’re not even sure who the victim was though it probably was Jedediah. We researched his whereabouts. We know he went to Europe and supposedly never came back but his death was never recorded over there either.”

“Did they record deaths back then?”

What if Jed had fallen into the sea on the way back or something? Surely someone had written something down? But if it wasn’t Jed in the wall, then who was it?

Seth shrugged. “They did record deaths back then, but if he died alone somewhere and they didn’t know who he was, his name wouldn’t be on any death certificates, so…” Seth shrugged and let his voice trail off.

“I guess you have a point. There’s not much to go on after all this time, but you’d think his relatives would want closure.”

“So far not one of them have come to me for it,” Seth said. “I mean, it’s not like any of them actually knew the guy and I don’t want to take up valuable police resources on an investigation that no one cares about.”