A Purrfect Alibi

“And the buckle on Madame Zenda really was Jed’s buckle?” Poe asked.

“Most likely,” Nero said.

“Points to one of those guests even more,” Juliette said. “But you found no indication in their rooms that they were the culprit? No drippy red pens or smells of old buckles?”

“No,” Nero admitted. “But we have made another enlightening discovery.”

The other cats stilled and looked at him in anticipation. He drew the moment out for a few seconds basking in the attention, then continued. “We know for sure that the treasure is long gone.”

Boots frowned. “The ghost told you that?”

“Sort of. He suspected such and once he remembered exactly where he had buried it, he had one of the guests dig it up. Marlowe and I inspected the hole ourselves and it’s been empty for centuries.” Nero felt a bit sad about that. Josie could have used the money to complete renovations on the guesthouse. If she had treasure, she could get out from under Myron’s thumb.

Juliette looked at him curiously. “So Jed is talking to the guests. They’re not all frauds?”

“Nope. Turns out at least one, Esther Hill, really can talk to ghosts. Jed has been communicating with her through her crystal ball,” Marlowe said.

“Is that so?” Boots tugged on his long whisker, curling it up at the ends in that showy way he preferred. “Well then, surely this Esther Hill has made it known that she can communicate with Jed? After all, that seems to be the reason they are all at the guesthouse, so they can earn their way to fame in the movie.”

Nero and Marlowe exchanged a glance. Esther had been very quiet about her communications with Jed. She hadn’t bragged once about talking to the ghost. “No, actually I don’t think she has.”

“Well, maybe not to anyone at the guesthouse,” Marlowe said. “We don’t know if she has mentioned it to Anita Pendragon. She might not want the others to know that she can talk to Jed because… well… look what happened to Madame Zenda after she announced that she was going to talk to him.”

Nero nodded enthusiastically. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of that but was proud that Marlowe had. “Yeah. Good point.”

Stubbs poked around in one of the lobster traps. “If Esther is keeping quiet because she’s afraid the killer will target her next, then that means she isn’t the killer.”

“There’s something else that may be in play here.” Poe paced the outskirts of the group, his tail swishing, head down, apparently deep in thought.

“What?” they all asked.

He stopped and faced them. “Thus far, we’ve been assuming that Madame Zenda was killed because she said she could talk to Jed’s ghost. Whoever killed her didn’t want her talking to the ghost because they wanted the fame. A movie deal would be quite lucrative. Or that someone had a vendetta against her.”

“We did determine that most of them have crossed paths before,” Nero said.

“Yeah, Esther knew her real name,” Marlowe added.

“And a movie deal could make them a lot of money.” Juliette preened behind her ears. “Don’t forget I did find the clue about Victor talking to the movie producer.”

“How could we forget?” Poe asked. “But let us consider another reason. What if the murder wasn’t about Madame Zenda at all? What if it was about the guesthouse?”

Nero didn’t like the way that sounded. “What do you mean?”

“The body was found with the buckle and a warning to stay away from the guesthouse. Maybe that’s what the killer really wanted—for people to stay away—and Madame Zenda just happened to be a convenient target.”

“Why would someone want to scare people away from the guesthouse?” Marlowe asked.

Poe shrugged. “Beats me. But if I’m right, then whoever it is has a reason worth killing for.”

Seventeen

The next morning breakfast went off without a hitch. The waffles came out golden brown and the guests slathered them in maple syrup and piled them on their plates. The frittata was cooked to perfection and not dry. I might be getting the hang of this cooking business after all…

I had a little bit of a scare when the cats started meowing in that way they do when something is wrong—like, for example, there’s a dead body on the property—but thankfully everyone was accounted for and near as I could tell no bodies littered the grounds.

I hadn’t forgotten about how the cats had tried to lure me to the attic, but they’d scattered after breakfast, so I decided to clean up while I waited for them to come back. I felt very strongly that wandering around up there by myself would be a waste of time. If the cats really did have something to show me, they’d be back.