A Whisker In The Dark

Doris sighed. “Sadly, I think they would. I mean, they are my children and I love them, but they have their faults.”

“All kids do.”

“I made them make a pact that we’d share the treasure but I’m not so sure they’ll stick to it. They haven’t played nice together since they were toddlers. Take the cheese-sculpture business, for example. My husband Barney and I built that up from nothing. We started off whittling Wisconsin cheddar and ended with sculpting masterpieces of Gruyère.”

I nodded with empathy even though I wanted to get back to the kitchen and throw away the dustpan full of dirt I was holding.

“Once Barney was gone, the kids took over. Big mistake. Turns out that when you inherit a business you don’t take as much care as when you build it up. You don’t work as hard. I’m afraid things are going downhill.” Doris flopped into a chair and I suddenly felt sorry for her.

As if proving her point, Bob’s voice wafted down from above. He was arguing with someone, but we couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying or who he was arguing with.

“See what I mean?” Doris pointed up.

“Well, siblings always fight and hopefully things will pick up with the business,” I assured her, for lack of anything better to say.

“If we found the treasure it sure would. ’Course, I doubt any of my kids would actually use the money for the business.” Her eyes turned steely. “But I would. In fact, I’d do just about anything to get some extra cash flow to save it. Barney would have wanted that.”

If the treasure actually belongs to you, I thought. Again, I didn’t see the point of voicing that opinion. No sense in pissing off paying guests over something that was unlikely to happen.

She sighed and pushed up from the chair. “Anyway, I don’t know how those kids turned out all wrong. I tried my best.” Doris made a face, her eyes crinkling and her nose twitching as she sniffed. “What’s that smell? Is something burning in the kitchen?”

Nine

I rushed back to the kitchen to see smoke billowing from the oven. Luckily I had the presence of mind to grab some oven mitts before ripping open the door. I used the mitts to fan the smoke away from my face as I bent down to inspect my loaf cakes that now resembled shrunken dried-out old leather. I pulled them out and slapped both on the counter, then waved frantically and prayed the sprinkler system the previous town building inspector had made me put in didn’t go off and soak everything.

I rushed over to open the back door to let out some of the smoke. It was getting dark and I could barely make out the moonlit ocean and the silhouette of the Smugglers Bay Inn beyond the tiny little lights that danced over my yard like fireflies. Except they weren’t fireflies. They were little flashlights in the hands of the people digging up the yard.

And it was a lot more than just the Biddefords.

I squinted into the night. Who was out there? My mom, for one. I saw her by the old oak tree jabbing her shovel into the earth. Leave it to Mom, that was probably a good spot for buried treasure. Didn’t pirates always bury their treasure under a tree?

Doris Biddeford was now out there too, digging in the mound of the hill we thought was an old bottle dump. Another good location.

But the number of flashlights indicated there were a lot more than just my mom and the Biddefords digging. Just how many people were out there?

I stepped on to the stairs and a shadowy figure ran by my feet. Nero. He darted over to the old rose arbor and started digging. Apparently even the cats wanted in on the treasure hunt.

Darn! Was that a light bobbing over from the Smugglers Bay Inn? Even Stella was getting in on this crazy treasure hunt. And was that figure around the edge of the property Myron Remington? The town’s richest banker wanted a chance at buried treasure, too.

What was wrong with people? More interested in treasure than finding out who had killed Jedediah Biddeford or how he ended up in the wall? And how had he ended up in there? Had he really brought treasure back and then someone killed him for it? And if so, wouldn’t that person have taken the treasure? All these people were on a fool’s errand. No treasure existed in my yard, I was sure of it. But maybe I should go out and dig, too… just in case.

I considered it for a second until a whiff of burned peanut-butter-banana bread reminded me that I had more important things to do. I needed to mix up another batch of batter and get it in the oven and figure out what to cook for breakfast the next morning. I didn’t have time to go on any treasure hunts.

Nero stopped sharpening his claws on the soft rotted wood of the old rose arbor and sniffed the air. “What is that noxious odor?”

“Smells like burned bananas.” Marlowe’s eyes flicked to the kitchen window. “Josie must be baking again.”

Nero sighed. “I do hope she can master that. Millie is right, the guests do want good food.”

“But if she doesn’t, maybe Millie will come over more often and help her?”