A Whisker In The Dark

“In the wall?” Earl glanced toward the hallway. “We should go look.”

“Can’t,” Doris said. “The police are in there now. Besides, I looked in there pretty good and didn’t see anything but that ring and a bunch of bones. We all got there together so no one would have had time to take the map out without the rest of us seeing them do it.”

“Can we look in any of the family documents?” Bob asked Doris. “Did Grandpa Biddeford ever mention anything about a map?”

“He never mentioned anything to me.” Doris waved her hands. “You can look if you want. I’m not gonna waste my time looking for some map.”

“What if someone did find out and never said anything.” Carla tapped her fork on her empty plate. “There might not even be any treasure.”

“True, but what if it wasn’t found… then it could still be out there.” Doris gestured toward the window.

“Don’t any of you care who killed him?” I asked. I’d walked to the buffet and was bravely cutting into the pumpkin bread. One didn’t have to be a master chef to see it was a little dry. I’d have to work on that recipe, but for now copious amounts of butter should make it palatable.

The conversation stopped and they all looked at me, then at each other. Doris shook her head.

“Nah! None of us knew him and, besides, the killer is long dead. Whoever did it got what’s coming to him. That’s old news. What’s new news is the treasure, and I’m fixin’ to be the one who digs it up, my business depends on it!” She pushed up from the table and hurried out of the room.

“Hey, where’s she going?” Arlene asked.

Earl leapt from his chair and pulled Arlene up with him. “My guess is to scout out likely spots.”

Bob threw down his napkin and followed them out of the room.

Carla jumped up. “Come on, Henry. We’re not letting them get a head start!”

Paula remained seated at the table alone. She looked shell-shocked. After a few beats, she stumbled up from the chair and spun in the direction of the door. “Hey, wait for me!”

Meow.

Marlowe and Nero were at my feet looking up at me, probably waiting for a crumb of pumpkin bread to fall. Unlike most cats, these two would eat anything.

“Yeah sure, now that everyone is gone, you’re looking to me for food? I thought I told you two not to come in here when the guests were eating.”

Millie scooped Nero up in her arms.

“See they never listen to me.” I examined the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. I’d put so much butter on it, it looked like frosting. Surely something with that much butter couldn’t taste bad.

“Now, dear,” Millie clucked. “Cats have their own rules. You have to listen to them not the other way around.” She picked a dried leaf from Nero’s fur. “Have they been digging in the plants? Naughty. Naughty.”

Nero purred and rubbed his cheek against Millie’s while casting a see-that’s-how-you-treat-me look in my direction.

I took a tentative bite. Just as I suspected, it was dry and tasted like sawdust.

“Josie, I hope you’ve been watering those plants.” Millie put Nero down and picked up Marlowe.

“I have,” I managed to choke out while trying to swallow the pumpkin bread. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about the gigantic potted trees that Millie had bought at a yard sale last week. She said they’d go perfectly in the conservatory, which they would have if the room was anywhere near being done. Right now it was as dilapidated as the ballroom. I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth so I accepted them and put them in the room near one of the windows that wasn’t boarded up. Hopefully they weren’t as dried up and dead as the skeleton.

Millie looked at the piece of pumpkin bread in my hand. “Is that what you’re making for the town celebration?” She must have noticed I was trying, unsuccessfully, to choke down that one little bite.

“It was a recipe I tried. It needs some work,” I admitted.

“Looks dry. Maybe add some more oil.” Millie was a whiz at baking. She’d generously left her recipes here when I’d bought the guesthouse. Lucky thing for me she also kept popping in to bake too. If it wasn’t for Millie the guests might have starved. Though I was a tad bit insulted she thought I couldn’t handle the cooking, I had to admit she was right.

“I can help you on that later.” Millie glanced toward the hallway. “Once the police are done. Hopefully Mike will tell us what they said.”

“Mike?” I picked a crumb off the pumpkin bread and dropped it on my tongue. Even that was dry. “I thought he left. I mean, doesn’t he have building-inspector business to tend to?”

Mom and Millie exchanged a look.

“So, you are interested!” Millie sounded as if she’d just won the lottery.

“No,” I said. “I just thought he had left.”

“He’s in the crime-scene room making sure Seth doesn’t damage anything,” Millie said.