Лейганн Доббс - A Whisker In The Dark

“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.”