A Whisker In The Dark

I sidled away, clutching at the recipe I’d just pulled out. Cranberry-orange bread. I guess that would do for the celebration. “Nope.” I held the recipe in the air between us. “I need to try out this recipe for the town celebration. It’s really important I have something to offer that represents the Oyster Cove Guesthouse.”

His eyes drifted out the window again in the direction of the Smugglers Bay Inn. My heart twitched. If I kept putting Mike off, I was driving him right toward Stella Dumont. But if he had intentions toward her, I didn’t really want him anyway.

He pushed away from the counter. “Well, I gotta get back to the town offices. Let me know if you need anything and don’t forget to make sure you get your proper inspections for Ed’s work.”

He was all business now, probably thinking about what he might like to inspect over at the Smugglers Bay Inn.

“Will do.” I watched him leave, glad to have some alone time. I needed to concentrate on the loaf recipe.

As I pawed through the file trying to choose between the cranberry-orange bread I had in my hand, the apple-pecan bread and the peanut-butter-banana bread, I could hear the Biddefords coming back inside. They were in rare form, jostling and arguing. Not much different from before the discovery of the skeleton, but I’d probably have to lay down the law about digging. I didn’t want the yard filled with dangerous holes.

I glanced into the yard just in time to see Henry skulking around the corner of the old chicken coop, near the shed. Now there was an odd one, always with his head buried in a book. He was very quiet and didn’t seem to mesh with the rest of the family at all. I’d heard in snippets of conversations that Henry was also one of the most-skilled cheese sculptors of the entire clan and had become famous for a very detailed sculpture of the Taj Mahal in white cheddar.

What was he doing out by the shed? The shed was a newer structure and old Jed wouldn’t have used it as a landmark for his treasure cache since it wasn’t around during his time.

I craned my neck, pressing my face almost to the glass to get a better look. It didn’t look like he was digging up anything. He didn’t even have a shovel. It almost looked as if he was spying on someone, but I couldn’t see who because he was casting furtive glances in my direction. Whoever the person was they were hidden behind the tall, overgrown shrubbery on the other side of the kitchen window.

I rushed to the pantry because the window in there was on the other side of the shrubs. Darn it! I still couldn’t see anyone, but I could hear the low murmur of voices.

“Just what do you think you’re getting at?”

I recognized Carla’s nasal Ivy League twang but she obviously wasn’t arguing with Henry. He was on the other side of the yard spying on her.

“You know what I’m getting at…”

Was that Bob? He sounded awfully mean and mad.

“… not gonna stand for it, you make it right or else…” Bob again. What wasn’t he going to stand for?

“Ha! I don’t answer to you.” Carla’s hushed whisper was sharp with anger.

Unfortunately, they then lowered their voices and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. After a few minutes of ear straining, Carla’s voice came through once more, loud and clear. “Don’t bet on it.”

The sound of rustling shrubs and Carla cursing under her breath signaled the end of the conversation. I rushed back to the kitchen, my mind whirling. What in the world was that about? I knew the whole family was at odds but clearly Carla was up to something and Bob was calling her out.

I peeked out the window in time to see Henry walking over to meet Carla. They were about twenty feet from the window now and I could see Carla had two shovels.

“What was that about?” Henry asked.

Carla glanced back toward the shrubbery and I jumped back from the window. Not that I was doing anything wrong, but still…

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna just stand by and take his crap. This time I’m going to do something about it,” she said as she thrust one of the shovels into Henry’s hands. As they turned and stalked off, her words rang in my ears. I couldn’t shake the fact that her tone was unmistakably threatening.

Six

Carla’s words were still echoing in my head an hour later when I pulled up to the town common where they were setting up for the 250-year celebration. Millie and Mom hadn’t cancelled or shown up at the guesthouse to dig up the grounds, so I assumed our meeting was still on. It was a perfect day with a cloudless blue sky, warm sun shining down, and birds twittering and flying in the leaves of the stately oaks and maples that lined the common.