A Purrfect Alibi

“Yes. My letter opener. But I keep that at the front desk and anyone could have taken it. The guests would have access and the front door is open during the day, so anyone could have come in and nabbed it,” I said.

“Even Anita Pendragon,” Millie added.

“Ed did say he thought she might have snuck in here,” I said.

“Hmm, when did you last see it?” Mom asked.

I tried to remember the last time I’d seen the letter opener. I was sure it had been in the house last week but that didn’t help. “I have no idea, with everything being electronic these days, I don’t get much mail.”

“It makes a good weapon, apparently,” Mom said.

I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter as Millie poured the batter into muffin liners. It wasn’t a surprise that Millie and my mother were automatically jumping into a new investigation. What was a surprise was that I’d followed right along with them. Apparently investigating the last two murders had fostered some sort of detecting skill I didn’t know I’d had.

Of course, the idea that a killer was running around loose wasn’t very appealing. Nor was the idea that it could affect my bookings or my loan. Seth Chamberlain wasn’t what I’d call a crack investigator. He did the best he could, but the town of Oyster Cove didn’t normally have any murders and he just didn’t have the experience. If Mom, Millie and I needed to do a little detecting on the side to catch a killer, then so be it.

“It’s getting late. I think we need to sleep on it and come up with a game plan first thing tomorrow,” Millie said as she shoved the muffins in the oven.

“I already have one. Or at least the start of one,” Mom said.

Millie shut the oven door, straightened and turned to look at my mother. “What is it?”

“Someone went to a lot of trouble to dress up the murder scene. We don’t know their exact purpose for that yet, but we do know one thing.” Mom’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Someone had to get an old buckle similar to what Jed would have worn. Do you remember seeing a buckle like that in here, Millie?”

Millie shook her head. “No. The stuff from Jed’s time is way back in the attic and I’ve never looked in there. I suppose there could be such a buckle, but how would someone get it? You still keep the door locked, don’t you, Josie?”

“I do. Can’t have guests getting hurt up there.”

Millie pressed her lips together. “Seems like a lot of trouble for someone to search the house.”

“Yeah, there are easier ways to find old buckles or buckles that look like they are old,” Mom said. “In fact, I think I’ve seen them at the fabric store.”

“Ones that look like the one on the body?” Millie asked. “It would make more sense that someone just got a replica.”

Mom frowned. “I don’t remember exactly what they looked like, but it behooves us to go downtown and check it out. If we can find who recently acquired such a buckle, then we just may have our killer.”

Nine

Nero and Marlowe had spent a restless night at the foot of Josie’s bed. It was no easy task sleeping with a human. You had to be vigilant so you could judge the right time to inch your way up to the top of the bed and curl up around their nice warm heads while they were sleeping without getting swatted away too many times. And then there was the pressure of waking up early—a necessity if you wanted to lay on their chest and stare at them as they woke. Nero always got a kick out of Josie’s wide-eyed reaction when her eyes fluttered open and she saw his face inches from hers.

While Josie was in the kitchen getting the breakfast ready for the guests, the cats did a cursory inspection of the rest of the house, which would be followed by their plan to search the attic. They found Flora in the dining room setting the table and they trotted in to rub against her saggy panty-hose covered legs to get their morning petting, before heading to the parlor where they could catch some rays from the morning sun.

To their dismay, the parlor was not unoccupied. Esther stood in front of the table where Madame Zenda’s tarot cards were still laid out. She was studying the cards with a pensive look on her face.

“She reads cards too?” Marlowe asked.

“Maybe she’s thinking about taking over now that Zenda is out of the picture,” Nero said.

But Esther wasn’t actually reading the cards. She picked them up one by one, placing them gently in a pile and then sighed as she put them off to the side. “Poor Betty Sue.”

Noticing the cats’ presence, her face cracked into a smile. She sat in the chair in front of her crystal ball and motioned for them to come to her.

“I don’t think Esther can be the killer,” Marlowe said as she trotted over and accepted a tuna-flavored treat that Esther had pulled out of her pocket. “She’s nice and has delicious treats.”

“Sometimes it’s the nice ones that you have to watch out for.” Nero felt it was prudent to exercise more caution in his assessments. He’d been around longer than Marlowe and had witnessed how humans often were not what they seemed.