A Whisker In The Dark

A familiar name caught my eye. Thomas Remington. Was that Myron’s ancestor?

I pulled the book closer to my face. He kind of looked like Myron. But this guy wasn’t a wealthy banker, he was a servant.

“Looks like Myron’s ancestor was Jedediah Biddeford’s butler,” I said out loud to the cats, who both were staring at me. “Funny how things work out, huh? He’s always boasting how his family was one of the first in Oyster Cove, but he makes it sound like they were part of the upper class.”

Meroo. Nero’s paw shot out and he riffled the pages, losing my place in the book.

“Yeah, I agree Myron sure is uppity considering where he came from.” I flipped back to the page just to double-check.

Meyawl! Marlowe whacked the cover of the book and I caught the pages before it snapped shut.

“Hey, I can’t read if—” Wait. Was their behavior an indication that I was on to something? They did have an uncanny way of knowing what was going on and it had seemed like they had helped me out during the last investigation, though I didn’t want to admit it at the time. Now that I’d spent more time with them, I was more inclined to consider that they might be smarter than everyone thought.

I broke off two more small pieces of cheese as a reward. I didn’t want to give them too much lest it upset their delicate systems. “I think you guys are trying to tell me something, aren’t you? Is this why Myron lied about being here last night? Does he have something to do with this?”

Meroo.

Merow.

The cats looked at me funny as if they didn’t understand what the reward was about, but they weren’t about to pass up cheese because they gobbled it down before head-butting my hand and practically shutting the book in their zeal to be petted.

Shutting the book wasn’t a bad idea. I didn’t need to read further. I was pretty sure I was onto something. Myron’s ancestor was the butler to Jedediah, and butlers always knew all their masters’ secrets. What if one of those secrets was the location of the treasure? And what if that location got passed down through the generations?

But if it had, wouldn’t someone have dug it up by now? Why would Myron wait so long and why was he over by the gazebo, which would be the least likely place for Jedediah to have buried it? Not to mention that Bob had been killed at the pond, which was very far from the gazebo. What if it was Myron who found the treasure and Bob who caught him and tried to take it? And did that mean there really was treasure after all?

Some of this didn’t add up, but one thing was fishy. Myron had lied about being here and if that didn’t indicate guilt about something, I didn’t know what did!

I might have to do some digging, but I knew one thing for sure—I was finally starting to understand what the cats were trying to tell me!

Nineteen

“Josie still does not quite understand what we are trying to tell her,” Marlowe said from her perch near the pantry the next morning as they watched Josie heat up the quiche in the oven.

“But at least she is open to the fact that we are trying to tell her something. She needs more work, but this is a start,” said Nero.

“Start schmart, she needs to listen to us now or she’s going to end up in trouble just like she did with the last murder.” Marlowe eyed the countertop where the dishes were drying. “We may need to do something drastic.”

Nero sighed. “I know. Unfortunately, she is going down the wrong path. She totally misinterpreted our hints about that history book. There are much more interesting suspects to pursue than Myron Remington.”

“True. Though it is interesting that his family was connected with the Biddefords. I thought I smelled something familiar on him too,” Marlowe said.

Nero glanced at the tortie as she strutted over to the countertop. Had Marlowe really developed such a keen sense of smell or was she just saying that to make herself seem smart? It was true Myron had smelled familiar, but it wasn’t because some ancestor had once worked in the house. No, Nero suspected there was an entirely different reason and he needed to clue Josie in on it.

“What are you kitties up to?” Josie stood hands on hips watching them. “Do you need a treat for all your good work last night?”

Nero gave her his most adorable head tilt.

Meow.

Josie opened the fridge and Marlowe hopped up onto the countertop and started batting at the dishes. Josie backed out of the fridge with a plate in her hand then scowled at Marlowe. “No, don’t do that. Especially not that Yale mug. Carla will have a fit.”

Josie picked Marlowe up and placed her on the floor then put down a small dish with some little bite-sized tidbits of steak inside.

“That’s very good steak, so you guys chew slowly and savor it.”

Marlowe eagerly got to work on the steak along with Nero.

“We’re going to have to push her in the right direction, somehow,” Nero said between mouthfuls. “We need to show her that Myron is not up to what she thinks he is.”