A Purrfect Alibi

I was hoping to see an old buckle, but no dice. It was a pen. I picked it up. It had a modern pen tip, but looked quite old, similar to the one I’d seen in the picture at the bank where Jed was signing something. Esther must have had Agnes Withington retrofit it.

“Aha!” Millie pointed at the pen.

“So you were at the antiques store,” Mom said.

“So what if I was?” Esther tugged the envelope back into her possession.

“You lied about it and that means that you have something to hide,” Millie said.

“I didn’t have anything to hide. Agnes didn’t want me to tell anyone.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I gave her a reading.” Esther gestured toward the crystal ball. “Some people are funny about that. We traded services, I did a reading and she made an old fountain pen I had from my mother into a more useable product.”

I looked at the pen in my hand. “And you didn’t buy an old buckle?”

“No.” She sat straighter in her chair. “Now, if you are done interrogating me, I have much to do before Victor puts on his little show.”

“I bet you do.” Millie nodded knowingly. “Like making sure he doesn’t have a chance to do it at all!”

“You have it all wrong!” Esther’s voice quivered slightly.

Meow!

Nero and Marlowe scrambled up onto the table as another shadow passed. We were all looking out the window when creaking from overhead drew our attention to the ceiling. Mom seized the opportunity to reach over and grab the envelope, Esther tried to snatch it back, but she didn’t quite make it and the contents spilled out over the antique Persian rug.

I snatched up the papers. Surely this was the clue to it all? But it wasn’t, it was exactly as Esther had said—just old papers about the bank.

Esther shot up from her chair and shoved her hand in my face. “Give those back, they’re nothing to you.”

“Still feigning innocence. You might as well confess now. Josie will prove you’re the killer with what is on those papers.” Mom looked back at me with the utmost confidence. “Won’t you, Josie?”

I barely glanced up at my mother. I was too busy trying to figure out just what it was about the papers that tugged at my memory.

The first paper was the early history of the bank. It was a photocopy of an old piece of paper where someone had scrawled in blotchy ink a timeline of the first several months. I looked up at the top to see a date. I guess that must have been a diary of some sort, written by the bank’s founder, Thomas Remington, judging by the signature at the bottom. It detailed the money he’d used to start the bank and the small building he’d rented from which to do business.

“Well?” Millie looked at me expectantly.

“I’m not sure. This is a photocopy of an old journal from when the bank was founded.” I glanced over at Esther. She seemed resigned now, sitting back in her seat, no longer trying to get the papers back. Apparently she was too dignified to run now that we were about to prove why she’d kill Madame Zenda. If only I could figure out what this paper had to do with her plan and tie it into the murder…

I handed the paper to Millie and looked at the next one. It was a list of old coins similar to the ones I’d seen at the bank display. It was also in Thomas Remington’s hand and there was quite an extensive list. The bank sold antique coins, but I doubted they would part with any of the original coins Thomas had brought. Did the coins somehow figure into the murder?

“Ha! Look at that. I guess old Thomas Remington had perfect timing.” Millie glanced up from the first paper as I handed her the second.

“Why is that?” Mom had come to stand behind Millie and was looking over her shoulder. Esther was still seated but now she was looking into her crystal ball as if mesmerized. The cats were sitting on the table watching us.

I was barely listening to Mom and Millie’s conversation, my brain busy trying to make sense of all this as I scanned the third sheet, which appeared to be an accounting of old Remington family heirlooms and their value. It was almost like a receipt.

“Well, he opened the bank the same year Jedediah Biddeford was determined to be missing in Europe. He would have been out of a job if he hadn’t done that.” Millie reached for the next sheet and I handed it over.

The final sheet was the etching of the Oyster Cove guesthouse with Jed. He was wearing the shoes with the buckle. His wife stood next to him and children and staff to the side. Now why did that keep cropping up? I looked up at Esther, our eyes locking. Suddenly I knew what Esther had been up to. We’d made a huge mistake.

Millie snatched the last piece of paper out of my hand, pointed to it and addressed Esther. “Now there! This proves you’re the killer!”

“Yeah!” Mom agreed, then frowned and looked at me. “Err… could you explain just how it does that?”

“It doesn’t—”

Thunk!

A heavy onyx bookend toppled to the floor from the second shelf of the bookcase cutting off my words. Good thing it landed on the rug, might have made a dent in the floor otherwise.