Лейганн Доббс - A Whisker In The Dark

“Really? If Earl knew where the treasure was, then did he dig it up?” Millie said.

“If Bob and Earl argued over it maybe only Bob knew where it was,” Mom said. “Maybe that’s why it was burned.”

“Wait a minute. I want to see this map. Do you still have it?” I asked.

Flora blanched. “It wasn’t really stealing, honest. I mean it was in the fireplace so technically it was trash and I was just taking out the trash.”

“Of course. I’m not mad you took it, but I would like to look at it,” I said.

“It’s right here in my pocket.” Flora produced a wrinkled, charred piece of paper. “It won’t do you any good though. The map wasn’t for anything on this property. I think Jedediah might’ve buried his treasure at sea.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked. Millie and Mom had come to stand behind me so they could look over my shoulder.

“I went down to the travel agency lady to find out where these longitude and latitude would be. But this stupid map isn’t for this property—she said it was for somewhere in the Caribbean Ocean!”

Millie glanced at me. “Annabel wasn’t lying. Flora really was there, she just assumed she was looking to take a vacation because of the longitude and latitude.”

“But why would Jed bury the treasure in the middle of the ocean?” Mom’s eyes narrowed. “What if Annabel really did lie? What if she lied to Flora about the coordinates?”

“What do you mean?” Flora asked.

Mom leaned forward in her seat. “What if Annabel recognized the numbers for what they were—a map to the treasure. And what if she didn’t want anyone else to know the location. She might have given Flora false information about what the longitude and latitude really meant so that she could dig up the treasure herself!”

Millie pressed her lips together. “Hmmm… she did have those fancy shoes and she is expanding her business which means she got an influx of money.”

I stared down at the paper. It was a column of numbers that reminded me of the unbalanced accounting ledger I had for the guesthouse. “Are you sure these are longitude and latitude? Because they don’t look like it to me.”

“They don’t? Well I just assumed they were. I mean, why talk about a secret book and then burn the paper?” Flora asked.

Something else tickled the back of my brain. I was on to something, but had one more question. “Flora, did you clean Millie’s grandmother’s doily in the parlor the morning that Sheriff Chamberlain interviewed all of us?”

“No, I actually didn’t clean that. I know I should have corrected you when you thanked me for cleaning it before, but I figured what the heck, if you thought I did extra work who am I to set you straight? Besides, after Sheriff Chamberlain interrogated me I had to go to my friend’s house to bake cookies for the great-grandmothers of twins’ table at the town celebration.”

If Flora didn’t clean the doily, then why had it been clean when there were clumps of dirt on the table? Of course! It was all coming together. “I think I know who the killer is and if we can just find that missing shovel, we can prove—”

Meroowl!

At the panicked sound of a cat’s cry, we whipped our heads around to see Nero standing in the doorway. His fur was puffed and his tail stood straight up as his large golden eyes beseeched us.

Millie frowned. “I never see Nero alone. Nero, where is Marlowe?”

Nero gave an ungodly cry, spun around and raced out of the room.

Millie, Mom and I were on our feet in a second, following the cat. It was clear by the way Nero was acting that something was dreadfully wrong.

Twenty-Five

Millie was the first through the kitchen door, with my mother and me close behind. Who knew Millie could move so fast? I had to hand it to Mom too, she was managing to keep up despite the afternoon in the beer tent with Paula.

“Marlowe must be in trouble!” Millie yelled as we watched Nero’s tail disappear down the path that led to the old gardening shed. My mind conjured up all the bad things that could happen to a cat out there. Had she fallen through old rotted boards? Cut herself on a rusty tool? Gotten stuck in some old animal trap? Fallen into an abandoned well? The thought of poor Marlowe hurt was crushing.

As we headed deeper into the overgrown area, I glanced behind me. Flora was making a good effort to keep up but had barely made it down the back steps. She waved me on and I turned forward, running to catch up to Mom and Millie.

Branches whipped in our faces as we jumped over gnarled roots sticking up out of the ground and sidestepped fallen branches. We heard a voice ahead.

“Hey get off, you mangy fur ball!”

Meow!

Millie and Mom had sprinted ahead. They skidded to a stop and I just barely missed bowling them over. My eyes immediately scanned for Marlowe. She was caterwauling loudly and her fur was standing on end, but she seemed fine. It was kind of hard to tell for sure though because she was latched onto a pant leg and the owner of said leg was trying vigorously to kick her off.

The cats I had seen at the murder scene were all there, too. Their backs were humped and tails fluffed out like bottle brushes. Some were hissing as they stood between the person and the bloody shovel sticking partway out of the ground.

The murder weapon!

“Marlowe!” Millie was aghast. “Leave him alone. I’m so sorry, the cats don’t usually act this way.”

Apparently Millie hadn’t put two and two together yet. The cats weren’t attacking for no reason. They’d captured the killer—Earl Biddeford.

I felt momentary satisfaction that my suspicions had been correct. I was about to name Earl as the killer when Nero had interrupted with his caterwauling. I hadn’t been a hundred-percent positive then. I was now.

“I don’t know why she’s acting this way…” Millie wrung her hands, probably picturing a lawsuit.

“She’s acting that way because he is the killer.” I stepped between Earl and the shovel, standing next to the cats, my arms crossed over my chest to signify that there was no way Earl was going to get to that shovel.

“He is?” Mom turned to me.

“Yes, he is. Isn’t that right, Earl?”

Earl forgot about Marlowe, who was still digging in to his leg, and turned malicious eyes on me. “You three busybodies should have left well enough alone! You should have let everyone think it was Jedediah’s ghost.”

“Why would we do that? Bob deserved to have his killer caught.” I inched to the left, hoping Mom and Millie got the hint to surround him. It looked like the cats did too because they started to fan out. The black cat with the white paws seemed a bit reluctant but the orange-striped one with the missing tail looked like he was itching to dig his claws into Earl’s other leg.

“He didn’t deserve anything! He was a slacker. Always weaseling out of work. His sculptures were sub-par. He couldn’t even carve a decent swan.” Earl tried to step toward me but was weighed down by the cat on his leg.

“But that’s not why you killed him, is it?” I inched my way further to the left.

“No. His lack of skills wasn’t the reason. Bob was always a tattletale. I’m surprised someone else didn’t do him in before me.” Earl twisted to try to get rid of Marlowe. My blood froze. Tucked in the back of Earl’s pants was a gun. I had to tread very carefully. Hopefully, I could keep him distracted with talking.

“I never did like a tattletale,” Mom said.

“No one does,” Earl said. “I did everyone a favor.”

“But you mostly did yourself a favor, didn’t you? Because Bob had something on you that would pit your entire family against you and probably send you to jail.”