A Whisker In The Dark

“I hope Jed’s ghost doesn’t show up here.” Paula scanned the crowd. “Though I guess he won’t be after me. I didn’t take any treasure. I wonder if Bob did? And if he did maybe Jed took it back because no one’s found it yet and Bob certainly didn’t take it with him. So if Jed took it, there won’t be any more killings because he’ll have his treasure and the curse will be broken.”

Paula’s train of thought was pretty logical even if it was a bit rambling, but my mother glanced over at her as if she were crazy. “I doubt it was Jed who killed Bob.”

“Well, that’s the rumor I heard,” Paula huffed. “Who else could it be? Certainly not your maid that I saw running from the scene. She’s too old, now that I think of it.” Paula frowned as if considering her own words. “Or maybe it was your maid. Some of those old people are pretty strong.”

Flora had been acting strangely. I had no idea if she actually was strong enough to have clobbered Bob, but I saw her move the antique carved-mahogany couch out from the wall to get behind it with the vacuum, so she was pretty strong. And what was this business with the vacation?

But if Flora had stolen the treasure why would she still be hanging around the guesthouse? Unless she hadn’t actually found the treasure and Bob’s murder was for nothing. What was I thinking? Flora wouldn’t kill someone, no matter how valuable a treasure was involved.

Up ahead at Myron’s table, I saw a familiar figure lurking about. Annabel Drescher stood in front of one of the plastic displays that held interest-rate information. She snatched a pamphlet out and looked around furtively. I caught her eye and waved, but she pretended not to notice me. Maybe she didn’t want to be seen associating with someone whose maid was accused of murder?

“Looks like Arlene has some competition.” Paula’s gaze was pinned on Annabel as she walked away. “Fancy duds and even shoes like Earl’s.”

Wait, what? I swivel around to check out Annabel’s shoes. Paula was right, they were Italian leather similar to Earl’s. Suddenly I was second-guessing my Carla–Myron theory. Maybe Flora wasn’t lying about the vacation. But why would Annabel make that up… unless she was trying to cover something up or distract us.

“Oh look, you can get a home-equity line of credit for three percent, maybe you should tap into that for the renovations?” Millie’s comment redirected my attention from Annabel to Myron’s table.

Paula inspected the pamphlets closer, her eyes clouding over in confusion. “Where are the tickets for the beer tent?”

“Beer tent?” Myron’s eyes darted from Paula to me. “Are you interested in a loan?”

I glanced around for Seth. Millie had said he’d be meeting us here and we had to stall until he showed up so we could get Paula to identify the shoes in front of him. Mom jabbed me in the ribs and jerked her head toward the big display touting the low-interest-rate loans. Guess that would be a good way to stall.

“As a matter fact I am,” I said. It wasn’t totally a lie, either. Extra money would help me complete the renovations sooner. Too bad I didn’t actually have much money to make the payments until business picked up. It was a catch twenty-two. I needed the loan to accommodate more guests, but I needed more guests to pay the monthly rate on the loan. “You know, I have that whole west wing over at the Oyster Cove Guesthouse and the sooner I can get it renovated the sooner I can get more guests in. Do you have anything special, preferably with a delayed payment schedule?”

Approval radiated from Millie at my quick reaction, but before Myron could launch into his spiel, Seth showed up.

“Hello, ladies.” Seth nodded at each of us, but his gaze lingered on Millie.

“I made your favorites, Seth.” Millie held up the bag of cookies and opened it, tipping the bag forward so we could all see inside. She tipped the bag further forward, letting one cookie slide out onto the grass as if by accident. “Oh, dear me. I’ve dropped one.”

She dropped to her knees and made a show of rooting around in the grass under the table for the cookie. “What lovely shoes, Myron. You’re always such a sharp dresser.”

Myron tugged at his tie uncomfortably, a look of confusion crossing his face. “Um… thanks.”

Millie tugged on Paula’s arm. It didn’t take much to get her to stumble and Millie pulled her down so she could see Myron’s shoes. “Aren’t those lovely, Paula?”

“Sure, they’re very nice but I don’t see any beer-tent tickets.”

“We’ll get to the beer tent. Don’t you worry about that. But do these shoes look a little familiar to you?” Millie asked.

Myron shot up from his seat. “What is the meaning of this? Why are you so interested in my shoes?”

Seth was watching carefully. He might seem like a dunderhead, but he actually could be rather sharp sometimes. He’d caught on that Millie had an ulterior motive here and was smart enough to keep quiet and see where this would lead. Perhaps all of Mom and Millie’s meddling in his investigations really had given him respect for their skills.