Лейганн Доббс - A Whisker In The Dark

“Can we look in any of the family documents?” Bob asked Doris. “Did Grandpa Biddeford ever mention anything about a map?”

“He never mentioned anything to me.” Doris waved her hands. “You can look if you want. I’m not gonna waste my time looking for some map.”

“What if someone did find out and never said anything.” Carla tapped her fork on her empty plate. “There might not even be any treasure.”

“True, but what if it wasn’t found… then it could still be out there.” Doris gestured toward the window.

“Don’t any of you care who killed him?” I asked. I’d walked to the buffet and was bravely cutting into the pumpkin bread. One didn’t have to be a master chef to see it was a little dry. I’d have to work on that recipe, but for now copious amounts of butter should make it palatable.

The conversation stopped and they all looked at me, then at each other. Doris shook her head.

“Nah! None of us knew him and, besides, the killer is long dead. Whoever did it got what’s coming to him. That’s old news. What’s new news is the treasure, and I’m fixin’ to be the one who digs it up, my business depends on it!” She pushed up from the table and hurried out of the room.

“Hey, where’s she going?” Arlene asked.

Earl leapt from his chair and pulled Arlene up with him. “My guess is to scout out likely spots.”

Bob threw down his napkin and followed them out of the room.

Carla jumped up. “Come on, Henry. We’re not letting them get a head start!”

Paula remained seated at the table alone. She looked shell-shocked. After a few beats, she stumbled up from the chair and spun in the direction of the door. “Hey, wait for me!”

Meow.

Marlowe and Nero were at my feet looking up at me, probably waiting for a crumb of pumpkin bread to fall. Unlike most cats, these two would eat anything.

“Yeah sure, now that everyone is gone, you’re looking to me for food? I thought I told you two not to come in here when the guests were eating.”

Millie scooped Nero up in her arms.

“See they never listen to me.” I examined the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. I’d put so much butter on it, it looked like frosting. Surely something with that much butter couldn’t taste bad.

“Now, dear,” Millie clucked. “Cats have their own rules. You have to listen to them not the other way around.” She picked a dried leaf from Nero’s fur. “Have they been digging in the plants? Naughty. Naughty.”

Nero purred and rubbed his cheek against Millie’s while casting a see-that’s-how-you-treat-me look in my direction.

I took a tentative bite. Just as I suspected, it was dry and tasted like sawdust.

“Josie, I hope you’ve been watering those plants.” Millie put Nero down and picked up Marlowe.

“I have,” I managed to choke out while trying to swallow the pumpkin bread. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about the gigantic potted trees that Millie had bought at a yard sale last week. She said they’d go perfectly in the conservatory, which they would have if the room was anywhere near being done. Right now it was as dilapidated as the ballroom. I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth so I accepted them and put them in the room near one of the windows that wasn’t boarded up. Hopefully they weren’t as dried up and dead as the skeleton.

Millie looked at the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. “Is that what you’re making for the town celebration?” She must have noticed I was trying, unsuccessfully, to choke down that one little bite.

“It was a recipe I tried. It needs some work,” I admitted.

“Looks dry. Maybe add some more oil.” Millie was a whiz at baking. She’d generously left her recipes here when I’d bought the guesthouse. Lucky thing for me she also kept popping in to bake too. If it wasn’t for Millie the guests might have starved. Though I was a tad bit insulted she thought I couldn’t handle the cooking, I had to admit she was right.

“I can help you on that later.” Millie glanced toward the hallway. “Once the police are done. Hopefully Mike will tell us what they said.”

“Mike?” I picked a crumb off the pumpkin bread and dropped it on my tongue. Even that was dry. “I thought he left. I mean, doesn’t he have building-inspector business to tend to?”

Mom and Millie exchanged a look.

“So, you are interested!” Millie sounded as if she’d just won the lottery.

“No,” I said. “I just thought he had left.”

“He’s in the crime-scene room making sure Seth doesn’t damage anything,” Millie said.

That figured. I was willing to bet Mike was hanging around for more reasons than to make sure nothing got damaged. He’d been an investigator in the navy and, judging by his actions when we’d found the last body, he still couldn’t resist an investigation. How he’d ended up a handyman turned building inspector was anyone’s guess. He’d told me it was because he liked to work with his hands, though I suspected at the time that that statement had a double meaning.

Thoughts of the last investigation reminded me of how annoying Mike could be. He’d insinuated that I had no business investigating to clear my own name and practically ordered me to stop looking for the killer. The nerve!

Good thing I had no interest in getting to the bottom of this skeleton case. He could have it.

“If you thought he left, you must have been thinking of him,” Mom said in that tone that indicated she knew my mind better than I did. “I don’t blame you. He’s a hottie. And he’s a very nice boy.”

“Just because you made a bad choice for your last husband doesn’t mean you can’t try again,” Millie added.

My “bad choice” was the other reason I’d come back to Oyster Cove. No wonder I was no good at cooking. My ex-husband was a semi-famous chef, so naturally he’d done all the cooking when we were married. He’d also done a lot of other things that I won’t bore you with. The divorce was not amicable and the only good thing that came from that marriage was my daughter, Emma. It had all turned out for the best though. I was finding a new freedom, and, by running the guesthouse, learning I was capable and self-sufficient. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me or tell me what to do, especially not Mike Sullivan.

“What do you make of all this Jedediah Biddeford business?” I changed the subject.

“ Notsh oroamnl oar ,” my mom mumbled. While we’d been talking about my love life, she’d grabbed a plate and helped herself to the buffet.

“Huh?”

“She said she’s not sure she believes in the curse,” Millie translated.

“Yeah me either,” I said. “But still there is a skeleton in the wall.”

“Right. And that means shenanigans,” Millie said.

Mom washed down her bacon with a swig of juice. “He must have been killed for a reason.”

“Maybe nothing to do with treasure, though,” I said.

“Of course, the mere notion of treasure here on the property is ridiculous,” Millie said softly as she cast a wistful glance out the window.

“If there was one, I’m sure we’d have heard about it by now.” I tossed the rest of my pumpkin bread onto one of the dishes and started clearing the table.

“Or someone would have dug it up. Right, Rose?” Millie asked my mother.

“Right.” Mom stuffed the last bit of food in her mouth and headed toward the door. “But just the same, I want to be prepared.”

“Where are you going?” I stacked more dirty dishes on top of each other.

“Why, down to Ace Hardware to buy a shovel, of course,” Mom called over her shoulder. “Hurry, Millie. A little digging will be good exercise and you never know what we might find!”