Лейганн Доббс - A Twist In The Tail

Millie blushed and fussed with her curly cotton-white hairdo. ‘Why, we were just trying to help.’

‘I know. That was nice of you. Now how about everyone clear the area and give us room to work.’ Seth ushered us out.

I went willingly, my mind whirling with my mother’s insinuation. I felt bad that Charles had died, but I had to wonder… would it be better for business if someone had killed him as opposed to him falling down unsafe stairs?

Nero licked his paw and washed behind his ear as he watched the humans leave. Worry and guilt gnawed at him. Death had come to the guesthouse and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

‘I hope Millie isn’t too disappointed in us, but we sent out the alert as soon as we smelled death. It’s not our fault Josie is slow in understanding our communications.’ Marlowe swished her tail, her eyes on Seth Chamberlain, who was inspecting the body.

‘Indeed.’ Nero continued washing. He took pains to keep his fur shiny and silky. Even a cat on his sixth life liked to look good. You never knew when a sultry Siamese or a cute Cornish Rex might be favorable to his attentions. ‘But perhaps we could have prevented this before it happened. Murder is not good for business.’

Marlowe jerked her head in Nero’s direction. ‘Murder? But this is an accident. Look at the stairs.’

‘Things are not always as they seem.’ Even though the situation was not ideal for the Oyster Cove Guesthouse—not to mention it not being ideal for Charles Prescott—Nero wasn’t about to pass up a chance to share some of his wisdom with the younger cat.

Nero had been watching over the Guesthouse for decades now. He’d wandered past the aged estate one day and knew it should be his home. Millie’s senior memory prevented her from realizing the cat had been there much longer than any normal cat would have lived. In those decades, he’d become very protective of the Guesthouse.

Marlowe had joined more recently. Nero had to admit he had been a bit put-out when Millie had brought Marlowe home as a young kit she’d found abandoned under a bush at the shopping mall about ten years ago, but over time he’d grown found of his young protege. Besides he had to have someone to pass his wisdom on to. And she could be good company. Sometimes.

Marlowe’s eyes widened. ‘You mean you’ve seen a clue that someone else was here?’

Nero simply nodded. Over at the body, Seth was taking care to leave things as undisturbed as possible for the medical examiner. The deputy, Johnnie Sanders, was taking pictures and the part-timer Sheila Watts was taking notes. Nero was glad they hadn’t noticed them and shooed them out. Cats weren’t usually welcome at crime scenes, but he’d learned that he could make himself practically invisible to humans if he was quiet and slowly slunk around, low to the ground. It worked well for sneaking into rooms and buildings too, though getting out could be a challenge if the humans shut the doors on you.

‘You think he came through that door up there and the stairs simply gave way?’ Sheila pointed to the tops of the stairs.

‘Looks that way.’ Sheriff Chamberlain leaned closer to the broken stairway. ‘These treads are rotted and the banister must have fallen off.’

‘That might have even happened before.’ Sheila inspected the edges of some upper treads still intact. ‘There’s dust here in the holes, so I think part of the banister might have fallen off long ago.’

‘Even more dangerous.’ Seth looked at the body. ‘What kind of fool would attempt these stairs, especially with no railing?’

Nero glanced at Marlowe. He wished the young cat would hurry up and find the clue before Seth Chamberlain made a faulty decision about the manner in which Charles Prescott met his maker. Honestly it was too bad that humans only had one life, otherwise Charles would be walking around in no time, and they wouldn’t have this problem on their hands.

‘Did you notice anything unusual last night?’ Nero asked. ‘I was chasing mice in the attic and cat-napping in between courses. I didn’t hear a thing.’ He was only into the early part of his sixth life, and certainly not anywhere near the age his hearing should be going.

Marlowe shot him a sheepish glance. ‘I… err… I may have gone down to the wharf.’

Nero raised a brow. ‘You don’t say?’ He didn’t want to get into Marlowe’s nightly activities. Girls would be girls. He could already see that the cat felt guilty, and he wasn’t her parent, just her mentor.

‘I just hope we haven’t let Millie down,’ Marlowe said.

‘Yes, it’s unfortunate this has happened so soon after she entrusted the future of the guesthouse to us,’ Nero said.

Marlowe hung her head. ‘We have failed our first important task.’

‘We may still be able to redeem ourselves. If we can help solve this quickly, it may not hurt things too badly. You know what a short-term memory humans have. The sooner the case is closed, the sooner they will move their attentions to something else. Making sure the guesthouse survives is of utmost importance. Millie entrusted that task to us.’ Nero frowned. ‘I do wish it didn’t come with that human Josie. She isn’t as savvy as Millie.’

Marlowe continued sniffing the perimeter of the room. ‘Yeah, but she does come in handy for doing the menial work like a laundry, cleaning and cooking. And apparently since she came with the guesthouse, we need to be as loyal to her as we were to Millie.’

Nero nodded. ‘I agree about the loyalty part. The cooking part needs work. She’s always burning things. Not like our Millie.’

‘As long as she fills our dishes.’

Nero joined Marlowe in sniffing. ‘Have you picked up the scent of a stranger?’

‘No. Just the usual people and those who were in here this morning. Josie, Millie, Charles, Mike, Barbara Littlefield. There is something spicy, but I can’t quite place it. Oh, and Stella Dumont.’

Nero nodded sagely. Stella Dumont owned Smugglers Bay, just over the crest of the hill. They could even see the gulls that circled her deck from the side yard. Darn nuisance those gulls were. Apparently she’d been coming around the guesthouse to see Mike. ‘Yes, but we already know she comes here often.’

‘True, but I hope it is Stella that snuck in, because that would help us immensely. She owns a rival inn, and if she was out of the way, that might mean more guests would come here.’

Nero swished his tail thoughtfully. ‘Indeed. Perhaps Stella was thinking that a dead body marring the reputation of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse would bring more business to her place.’

Marlowe narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes, she could be the culprit.’

‘Are you sure there is a culprit?’ Nero asked.

‘Wait, I thought you said there was.’

‘Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. You need to investigate.’

‘You mean look at the clues. The stairs. The things the police are taking pictures of.’

Nero nodded. ‘But perhaps they are not looking at something they should be. They are investigating under their assumption that he fell down the stairs.’

‘Oh right!’ Marlowe was quick on the uptake. She turned her attention away from the stairs, sniffing along the edge of the wall, where a pile of debris lay – railing for the stairs, wall paper that had fallen off the wall and a metal wall sconce. She stopped when she came to the newel post cap—a large metal ball with a point at the end.

It had been before his time, but Nero’s fine senses told him that before this wing had gone to ruin, the staircase had been a focal point, with honey oak stairs and a scrolled railing that ended in the carved newel post, the gilt globe sitting atop. He could almost picture the ladies in their gowns descending to the room once filled with velvet sofas and mahogany side tables. He figured the rounded top of the newel post had been an ornamental focal point of the stairway. Last night, someone had found a more sinister use for it.