Лейганн Доббс - A Whisker In The Dark

I bit back a smile. Seth had to be almost seventy and I didn’t think he was that much younger than Flora. Then again, she said she changed his diapers, so there must have been at least a decade and a few years between them.

“I don’t know what gives him cause to accuse you. You weren’t even out there digging, right?” Flora had been cagey about this before and I wanted to ask again because Flora was getting up there in years and maybe she was having some memory issues. Paula had claimed to have seen her. Myron had said Flora got the last shovel. Paula couldn’t actually be trusted to remember stuff right and Myron could have been lying, but why would he?

Flora pressed her lips together and fisted her hands on her hips. “I never said I wasn’t out there. I said I couldn’t very well clobber someone over the head. I don’t have the strength.” She bent her scrawny arm at the elbow again to make a muscle, as if to prove her point. “But just like everyone else in town I was curious about the treasure, so I wanted to see what was going on.”

I searched my memory banks for the previous conversation. Flora was right, she had said she couldn’t clobber someone. But I still got the impression she’d purposely avoided admitting she was out there. Maybe she was embarrassed about digging. Or afraid about being accused? But she hadn’t actually lied, I’d just misinterpreted what she’d said. That made me feel a lot better. “So you were digging?”

Flora looked appropriately embarrassed. “As much as I could. It’s hard work.”

That explained why Paula had seen her. But it didn’t explain something else I’d heard about her.

“Are you planning on going on a trip?” I asked.

Flora frowned at me. “No. What makes you ask that? Where would I get money for a trip?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I heard from someone that you were taking one.” I didn’t want to rat out Annabel. No sense in making enemies out of someone you might want to get information from later.

Flora’s gigantic eyes assessed me as if she was considering having me committed. Butterflies swarmed in my gut. Either Annabel had gotten her wires crossed or Flora was a very good actress. And if it was the latter, then all the details of her being capable of hitting someone with a shovel could have been acting too.

“I would have asked for the time off if I was going on a trip, right? Did I ask for time off?” Flora reached into the closet and pulled out the feather duster.

“No. But if you want some time off you can have it.”

“Got no need for time off. Got no need for travel. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get cleaning. Lots of work to do.” She shuffled off toward the stairs then stopped, turning to look at me. “By the way, don’t worry. I did clean that room for that nasty Arlene. You ask me, she doesn’t deserve it. The place was a pigsty. But that’s none of my business.”

“Thanks. And thanks for cleaning off the doily too.” I gestured toward the table. I didn’t mention she’d forgotten to pick up some of the dirt. With Flora you had to take what you get.

She gave me another one of those I-should-have-you-committed looks. “If you say so.”

Merup.

The cats had been sitting patiently watching us as if they understood every word we were saying. But now it appeared their patience had come to an end. They trotted toward the kitchen, glancing back at me every few steps. They wanted the food I’d promised earlier.

Flora was swatting at the railing with the duster as she ascended the stairs. I was glad she hadn’t lied about being out there last night. Paula probably had seen her but been confused about where and when. Okay, the thing about the trip was a little odd but maybe Flora didn’t want me to know she was planning one or maybe she was looking into it for one of her bazillion grandchildren.

I could cross Flora off my suspect list and focus on the others. The Biddeford siblings were at the top and I couldn’t discount Doris, either. Myron was running a close second though. He’d lied about being here, but I felt that might be because he was embarrassed to admit he was with Stella. Too bad we didn’t know more about the arguments amongst the Biddeford clan. So far it didn’t seem like any of them were worth killing over. I needed someone with a more compelling motive.

At least the townspeople wouldn’t be digging up the yard again. If what Jen said was true, they were all too afraid of Jedediah Biddeford’s ghost. But I didn’t think Bob’s death had been perpetrated by any ghost. No, whoever clobbered Bob over the head was undoubtedly human, and might be getting very nervous about being discovered as the killer.

And, as I knew from previous experience, people who were nervous about being exposed as a killer could become very dangerous.

Seventeen

I shook off the silly notion that Jedediah’s ghost was killing people who had been searching for his treasure and fed the cats. They seemed to appreciate their meal of turkey chunks and gravy if the way they circled around my feet and rubbed their cheeks on my ankles was any indication.

I bent down to pet them, and they rewarded me by butting their soft heads against my hand and purring. My relationship with the cats was improving greatly. I’d never had a cat before buying the guesthouse and I had to admit they were actually quite good pets.

“You know, you guys are actually pretty great. I’m glad to own you.”

The cats abruptly stopped their purring and rubbing, and looked at me with eyes that were practically shooting daggers.

“I mean, I’m glad you guys own me now.”

That must have mollified them because they continued their purring and rubbing—it was as if they could understand every word I’d said.

The cats went back to their bowls and I stood and watched them eat for a few seconds. Unlike humans, the cats seemed to appreciate most things I gave them, except when they were being finicky. Turns out cats are pretty good company too. Maybe even better company than husbands. I certainly enjoyed my relationship with them more than the last several years—possibly even the last several decades—with my ex, Clive.

I left the cats to their bowls and pulled out Millie’s recipe file. I needed to find something for breakfast the next day. The Oyster Cove Guesthouse didn’t provide lunch or dinner, but the guests sure did expect a spectacular breakfast.

I riffled through the file, discarding the ones that seemed like they were beyond my skill set or that had too many ingredients, when the back door opened and in came my mother and Millie.

“I hope you don’t mind us just walking in, dear.” Millie came over to inspect the recipes I’d pulled out. “Are you planning for breakfast tomorrow? That’s very good. You need to plan ahead when you are running an operation like this. What are you going to make?”

The cats immediately ran over to greet Millie but I noticed this time they hesitated just for a second, looking up as if to assure me that even though they were meeting their old friend Millie, they still knew that their new friend—me—was the one who fed them. I found that heartwarming even if it was likely just my imagination.

“I’m not sure. I was thinking about maybe a quiche or a frittata, but I’ve never made a frittata…” I glanced at Millie hopefully. So far Millie had helped me cook most of the breakfasts I’d served. I guess she felt a responsibility to keep up the reputation of the guesthouse in that department. I didn’t mind.

“We have a lot going on, so I think a quiche would do. You know you can make those ahead of time.” Millie selected a broccoli quiche recipe and put it on the counter. “You have some leftover cooked white rice from our Chinese takeout the other day, don’t you?”