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A Whisker in the Dark

Leighann Dobbs

Books by Leighann Dobbs

Murder on a Mississippi Steamboat

The Oyster Cove Guesthouse (Cat Cozy Mystery Series)

A Twist in the Tail

A Whisker in the Dark

A Purrfect Alibi

Mystic Notch (Cat Cozy Mystery Series)

Ghostly Paws

A Spirited Tail

A Mew to a Kill

Paws and Effect

Probable Paws

A Whisker of a Doubt

Blackmoore Sisters (Cozy Mystery Series)

Dead Wrong

Dead & Buried

Dead Tide

Buried Secrets

Deadly Intentions

A Grave Mistake

Spell Found

Fatal Fortune

Lexy Baker( Cozy Mystery Series)

Lexy Baker Cozy Mystery Series Boxed Set Vol 1 (Books 1–4)

Or buy the books separately:

Killer Cupcakes

Dying for Danish

Murder, Money and Marzipan

3 Bodies and a Biscotti

Brownies, Bodies and Bad Guys

Bake, Battle and Roll

Wedded Blintz

Scones, Skulls & Scams

Ice Cream Murder

Mummified Meringues

Brutal Brulee (Novella)

No Scone Unturned

Cream Puff Killer

Never Say Pie

Kate Diamond Mystery Adventures

Hidden Agemda (Book 1)

Ancient Hiss Story (Book 2)

Heist Society (Book 3)

Silver Hollow (Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series)

A Spell of Trouble (Book 1)

Spell Disaster (Book 2)

Nothing to Croak About (Book 3)

Cry Wolf (Book 4)

Mooseamuck Island( Cozy Mystery Series)

A Zen for Murder

A Crabby Killer

A Treacherous Treasure

Hazel Martin (Historical Mystery Series)

Murder at Lowry House (Book 1)

Murder by Misunderstanding (Book 2)

Lady Katherine Regency Mysteries

An Invitation to Murder (Book 1)

The Baffling Burglaries of Bath (Book 2)

Murder at the Ice Ball (Book 3)

A Murderous Affair (Book 4)

Sam Mason Mysteries (Writing as L. A. Dobbs)

Telling Lies (Book 1)

Keeping Secrets (Book 2)

Exposing Truths (Book 3)

Betraying Trust (Book 4)

Killing Dreams (Book 5) Available in Audio

The Oyster Cove Guesthouse (Cat Cozy Mystery Series)

A Twist in the Tail (Available in the UKand US)

A Whisker in the Dark (Available in the UKand US)

A Purrfect Alibi (Available in the UKand US)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

A Purrfect Alibi

Hear More from Leighann

Books by Leighann Dobbs

A Letter From Leighann

A Twist in the Tail

Murder on a Mississippi Steamboat

Recipes

One

I’m fairly certain that having a guest die before breakfast is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Even so, I was feeling a bit nervous as the guests at my newly acquired Oyster Cove Guesthouse dug in. Never mind that the memory of how a previous breakfast had been spoiled in a most alarming manner was still fresh in my mind, the reason I was nervous about this breakfast was that I was trying out a new pumpkin-bread recipe on my guests and, seeing as my culinary skills were meager at best, I was worried they might not like it.

My worries were not unfounded. Though the guests had filled their plates, the brown loaf sat on the antique mahogany serving table, alone and uncut, shoved to the side like an overweight schoolboy on the playground. It was probably because of the dark edges. Admittedly, I’d left it in the oven a bit too long. Who knew that baking had to be that precise? But it was important I get this right. Millie Sullivan, my mother’s best friend and the guesthouse’s previous owner, had stressed the fact that having a winning loaf cake to serve at the town’s 250-year celebration would be vital to the future of the guesthouse. And, since all my retirement savings were tied up in the purchase of the place, I very much wanted it to have a good future.

I eyed the room with satisfaction. It was the lavish dining room of the grand old mansion that was now a bed and breakfast, boasting a twelve-foot ceiling, ornate green-and-gold wallpaper and a gigantic green oriental rug. Ten-foot-tall Palladian windows with a coveted view of the sparkling Atlantic Ocean ringed the far wall. They were open, causing the sheers lining the inside of the gold-and-green silk drapes to flutter from a cooling, salty sea breeze.

On the buffet, eggs steamed in a warming tray, toast glistened with melted butter, bacon practically sizzled on its platter and pancakes dripped with maple syrup. But, more importantly, all the guests were accounted for, so there would be no chance of discovering that one of them had met their maker in a most unsavory manner inside my establishment. It wasn’t so much the welfare of the guests themselves I was worried about, more that I didn’t want to get a reputation for being a place where people only checked out in a body bag.

It was a positive sign that the two resident cats, Nero and Marlowe, weren’t wailing like they’d done a few weeks ago to announce said dead body. In fact, it was relatively quiet, the only sounds the faint cry of gulls drifting in through the window and the far-off sounds of hammering from my carpenter, Ed O’Hara, as he worked to renovate one of the dilapidated sections of the mansion.

I had nothing to worry about other than that no one seemed to want my pumpkin bread. Unless it was the concern that a brawl might break out amongst the guests. I should have known it could be troublesome to rent all the rooms to one peculiar family—especially one that was in business together. Making cheese sculptures. Yes, you heard me. The Biddefords had a cheese-sculpture business. You’d wonder how that would sustain a whole family, but apparently cheese sculptures were quite popular for parties. I mean, who didn’t want a swan carved from a block of Swiss or a rendition of Michelangelo’s David chiseled from Muenster on their dining table?

I hadn’t known they were peculiar when they checked in. I thought it was kind of cute that the descendants of the shipping magnate who had built the mansion wanted to stay in it for the town’s 250-year celebration. Jedediah Biddeford had been an important figure in town back then, and even though ownership of the mansion had passed out of the Biddeford family a couple hundred years ago, I guess they still felt a kinship with it.

How was I supposed to know that every member of the family seemed to have a grudge against the next? From what I could gather—not that I was eavesdropping or anything but sometimes one overhears things by accident—their animosity was a combination of sibling rivalry and jockeying for position in the company. It was all nice-nice on the surface, but I could feel the tensions boiling underneath.

The family had requested that I push the individual tables for four that dotted the antique room together to form one long table. Seemed like a good idea to me since there were no guests other than Biddefords. So there they sat, plates loaded with the sumptuous breakfast for which the guesthouse was known. All homemade, of course, except the pancakes. I confess I made those from a mix.