A Whisker In The Dark

I started toward the foyer. The Biddefords had agreed to keep the shovels in the carriage house, but I wanted to make sure the entranceway stayed clear and clean. I didn’t want any prospective guests thinking I ran a dirty show here. The shovels were all gone, but clumps of dirt remained. I’d have to clean those up, Lord knew Flora wouldn’t do it.

“So how are things with you?” I asked to move the conversation away from me and Mike.

“Fabulous…” Emma proceeded to tell me about what was going on in her life while I got the broom and dustpan out of the pantry. I was glad that she was settling in to her adult life. She was healthy, had friends and a good social life and was happy at work. It was all a mother could ask. Now, if I could just get my mother to stop worrying her about dead bodies and getting her hopes up about romantic prospects, things would be great.

As I cleaned up the mess, I mused about how quickly Flora had trained me to do pretty much everything on my own. Honestly, I had wondered more than once if I should keep her on. But she was a great-grandmother on social security. She needed the money. Besides, Millie had said that Flora had provided decades of loyal service to the guesthouse and that counted for something. And she did do some of the cleaning. Besides, the dirt was easy to clean up, just a few swoops into the dustpan and it was gone.

I heard a door open upstairs and glanced through the railing to the hallway out of habit. The front foyer was large and had a grand staircase that opened to a gallery hallway that looked down on the foyer. I saw Flora’s orthopedic shoes coming out of the middle room.

Surprise, surprise, she’d actually been cleaning the rooms!

Not wanting to disturb Flora if she was in a room-cleaning mood, I started back toward the pantry with my dustpan full of dirt.

“Oh, there you are.”

I spun around to see that Arlene had snuck up on me. She had a sour look on her face. I half expected to see a shovel clutched in her hands but they were empty. The smell of Chanel No. 5 wafted around her so strongly it almost gave me an asthma attack.

“Can I help you?” I asked, stepping back out of range of her perfume.

She made a face. “Well, I certainly hope so. The accommodations… our room… it’s deplorable!”

“How so?” I thought the rooms at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse were quite nice. They were loaded with antiques, decorated in lovely colors with wallpaper and rugs suitable to the time-period and had been all redone less than five years prior.

“Our room hasn’t been cleaned. We’d appreciate it if you could send up the maid. I don’t believe she’s been in there since we arrived.” Arlene made a big production out of sneezing. “I’m allergic to dirt and soot you know.”

Maybe she should back off on the perfume dousing. I was willing to bet that was what was making her sneeze. But I knew better than to argue with the guests. The customer was always right. Besides, I’d just seen Flora come out of her room so I was sure it would be at least a little bit cleaner when she went back.

“I’ll have it cleaned right away.” Sometimes it was beneficial to let guests think they’d bossed you around.

She huffed and turned to leave, practically bowling over Doris.

“What are you doing?” Doris looked at her suspiciously. “Are you pumping Josie for information on likely places where the treasure might be buried?”

Arlene looked her mother-in-law up and down. No love lost there, I sensed. “Hardly. I’m just trying to get our room cleaned. I doubt there even is any treasure.”

“Ha! Then you don’t need to dig for it.” Doris watched Arlene walk away then turned to me. “Say, you wouldn’t have happened to find anything like an old map or any indication in the house of where the treasure could be?”

“No.” Hadn’t Millie mentioned an old book about the history of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse that she wanted for the table at the town celebration? Might that have some clue? Not that I believed in the treasure, but it might be worthwhile to browse through it. Of course, I wasn’t going to mention that to Doris.

“Dang. Well, if you think of anything speak up.”

“Oh, I will.”

Movement outside caught my eye and I glanced out the narrow window beside the door where Bob was rushing by with a shovel.

“Those darn nincompoops. I told him to wait until dark,” Doris said.

“Dark? Then how would you see what you’re digging?” I asked.

“Headlamps.”

“Speaking of digging, I want to make sure there’re not a lot of holes in the ground. I don’t want a liability issue.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. We’re gonna fill them in just like we said. And we’ll put the shovels in the carriage house and wipe our feet so we don’t track dirt in.”

“I hope you will.” I showed her the dirt in the dustpan. “You’ve already tracked quite a bit in. And I still think it might be smarter to dig in daylight.”

Doris shook her head. “Nah. If they did that, then each one would see where the other one was digging.”

“You mean they’d steal the treasure from each other?”