A Purrfect Alibi

“It’s still a bust. As Josie said, there were no footprints going to the trunk, so who could have taken the shoes?” Marlowe’s words dragged Nero back to the present. They had a more important murder to solve right now. Jed’s murder could wait.

“Maybe they were clever enough not to leave footprints.” Nero studied the furniture in the attic. Someone could have traversed a path to the trunk without leaving footprints, he supposed.

“The guests here are a sneaky bunch. I think we have a bit more investigating to do. The buckle is a dead end.” Marlowe fluffed her tail. “Get it? Dead end.”

“But how would they do that? Levitate?” Nero had heard of things like levitation and astral projection and he’d seen Victor meditating, but his butt had always been planted firmly on the chair.

“Guess we need to find that out,” Marlowe said.

Jed had swirled over to the window and was dripping ectoplasm on the floor. “I saw that mean banker skulking around out there. I don’t much like him. He worries Josie and I don’t want her to worry. Maybe I should haunt him.”

“Not a bad idea.” Nero smiled at the thought of Myron being haunted, especially since Myron seemed to be getting worked up about all the ghost talk.

Jed tapped his fingers on his lips. “I think I have an idea that can help out Josie, and my beautiful Esther, plus give Myron the shaft.”

Nero perked up. “I like that idea. Will it help find the killer?”

“Whose? Mine or that tarot reader’s?”

“Either.”

“Maybe not. But I’m not really all that keen on finding my killer anymore. Since I’ve been communicating with Esther my feelings about moving on to the afterlife have changed.” Jed got all dreamy looking and his normally white ghostly image turned pink.

“Yech,” Marlowe said.

Nero agreed, but at least Jed wasn’t fixated on Josie anymore. If he attached himself to Esther and wanted to stay on the earthly plane, then he’d be leaving when Esther did and that was just fine with Nero.

“So, what are you going to do that will help Josie and Esther and annoy Myron?” Marlowe asked.

“Not sure exactly yet. I’m working on a plan, though,” Jed said.

“Speaking of annoying Myron and working on a plan, we need to do both.” Nero hopped down from the old Eastlake bureau he’d been sitting on so he could look out the window. “I say we start with annoying Myron. He hates getting cat hair on his nice slacks. Let’s go find him before he leaves and rub up against the bottom of his pants.”

Eighteen

Mom and Millie headed off to the police station to try to wheedle some more information out of Seth Chamberlain. I stayed behind to catch up on household chores. I kept an eye out the window for Anita Pendragon. She was up to something and I wanted to catch her in the act. It took a few hours, but luck was with me. I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes when I saw her peeking out from behind a lilac bush. I hurried out to catch her at whatever it was she was up to.

I picked my way along the side of the house, my back pressed to the paint-peeling clapboards as I used the house for cover. I was at the back of the building and hadn’t gotten around to scraping and painting the exterior here yet since it wasn’t visible to the guests.

I came to the corner and quickly darted over, taking refuge behind a giant rhododendron. Peering out from behind the glossy leaves, I watched Anita as the floral smell of summer flowers wafted over. Out here in back of the house only the hum of buzzing bees broke the silence.

Anita appeared to be scoping out the grounds. What on earth was she doing? I had news for her too, her lime-green-and-turquoise shirt did little to camouflage her behind the dark green shrub.

I snuck up behind her very quietly and when I was within two feet I said, “Aha!”

Anita whirled around dropping her navy-blue tote bag as her hands flew to her heart. Once she recognized me her eyes narrowed to slits. “Josie… Waters… what in the world are you doing… scaring me like that!”

The nerve of her yelling at me! “What are you

doing lurking in my bushes?”

Anita recovered from her scare. Now she looked angry instead of startled. Smoothing down the bottom of her shirt, she said, “It’s a free country.”

“Not quite, this is private property.”

“Okay, fine. I’m here doing investigatory journalism. There was a murder here, you know. And a ghost is running about. The people have a right to know.”

“Why does that necessitate lurking around in my yard?”

She leaned toward me, lowering her voice. “Your guests aren’t the most innocent of people. They’re suspects, you know. And besides, they get up to some strange things. Seances in outhouses and convening with spirits in gazebos.”

I had seen some of the guests skulking around in the yard, but seances and spirit communications? “Are you sure they’ve been doing that?”