A Whisker In The Dark

“Not for lack of trying, though.” Doris shoved a forkful of pancakes into her mouth and chewed. Then she glanced around the table suspiciously at her children. “I mean, one of you didn’t find it, did you?”

Paula hiccupped and shook her head, looking at her mother with big, innocent eyes over her coffee mug. Her face was still scratched from the shrub she’d fallen asleep in the day before.

“Well I certainly didn’t,” Carla said. “But maybe someone else did?” She glanced across the table at Bob’s empty seat.

Doris followed her gaze. “Where is Bob? Has anyone seen him?”

Earl shrugged. “I didn’t hear him moving around in his room. Maybe he’s sleeping in. Knowing Bob, he was the last one up digging. He always did try to one-up the rest of us.”

Carla’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think he found the treasure and took off with it, do you?”

“Where would he go and how would he get there? We only have three rental cars between us and they are all in the driveway.” Earl looked at me. “Bob didn’t leave in a taxi or anything early this morning, did he?”

I shook my head.

“I’m just glad we don’t have to share the pancakes,” Henry said as he raised a forkful of golden pancakes dripping with syrup.

I smiled pleasantly. At least no one had said the pancakes were too sweet. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying them. Maybe I was onto something with the extra sugar.

Mereeoow.

The sound came from outside, and it wasn’t the cat’s normal meow. It sounded panicked. My heart jerked. Had an animal gotten them? I rushed over to the window, shoving aside the sheer blind that was fluttering in the breeze and looked out.

I didn’t see any cats. Nor did I hear any more panicked meowing. I scanned the yard, then the field, but the only movement was a lobster boat motoring around in the cove picking up traps and a few seagulls circling above it.

I turned back to the room in time to see Paula spit out some omelet. Gross.

“What’s the matter with you?” Doris asked.

Paula made a face. “The spinach in there is weird.”

Arlene nodded and pinched up a spinach leaf between her thumb and forefinger and held it up. “They’re supposed to be wilted. This isn’t cooked.” She leveled a look at me.

Who knew you were supposed to put them in sooner so they cooked all the way?

“It’s a new thing. More healthy this way. A lot of the vitamins are lost when you cook it.” I had no idea if it was true, but I thought I’d recovered quite nicely.

“I heard that the sheriff came by yesterday,” Doris said.

“Yes, he cleared the crime scene.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“Not much more than what we learned yesterday, but he did think it was Jedediah Biddeford.”

“Huh, go figure. I knew it was him.” Doris looked round the table. “Should we have a funeral?”

The kids shook their heads.

“Who would pay for that?” Arlene asked.

“Good point,” Doris said. “Maybe we could make a cheese sculpture in his honor. I mean, it’s not like we knew him. No sense in spending money on a funeral when there are no friends or family to attend.”

“Maybe just have him buried in the old family cemetery.” Paula had a Baileys Irish Cream nip in her hand and was pouring it on the pancakes.

“Well that would be up to Josie. She owns it now.” Doris raised a brow in my direction.

The old Biddeford family cemetery was at the west edge of the property. I’d seen the moss-covered slabs ringed with a black wrought-iron fence once when Millie had taken me back to show me some of the acreage. It was overgrown and barely accessible and I was sure no one had been buried there in two hundred years.

“I guess it’s okay. I don’t think they actually bury people in old family plots like that anymore, do they?”

Doris shrugged and then she laughed. “Maybe we can do it ourselves. We have shovels.”

“Speaking of which, we put the shovels away in the carriage house like you wanted, Josie,” Earl said.

“Thank you.”

A movement outside caught my eye. It was Mike Sullivan. I’d forgotten he was coming to inspect an old toolshed that I’d had Ed replace the roof on. I was looking into hiring someone to work on the landscaping and they’d need a place to store the tools. I watched as he headed down the path.

Merow!

This time it sounded like the same high-pitched caterwauling that had happened when they’d found the skeleton. If I wasn’t mistaken, the noise was coming from the direction in which Mike was heading. Mike was good with cats, if something was wrong he would help them.

“I hate to be a complainer,” Arlene said, inspecting her fingernails for dirt—not that dirt would dare stick to her, “but I would appreciate it if we could get some maid service in our room. It’s still dirty like I told you yesterday.”

I bit back a sarcastic remark. Arlene was the type that was never happy. I’d seen Flora in there cleaning, so I knew it had been cleaned. Then again, Flora wasn’t the best cleaner so maybe I should go in myself and make sure it was spotless.

Merooo!

This time it was loud. Everyone looked toward the window.

“What is that?” Paula asked. “Is that those cats?”