A Whisker In The Dark

“Trip? What do you mean? Flora isn’t going on a trip, is she, Josie?” My mom turned to me and I shook my head. That was the first I’d heard of any trip.

“Oh yes she is. She was in the travel agency asking about some coordinates.” Annabel straightened some pamphlets.

“Coordinates?” Millie asked.

“Yeah you know longitude and latitude. She was a little bit off though because they ended up in the Caribbean Sea but I think she wanted the island of Martinique. At least, that’s the package I’m gonna try to sell her,” Annabel said.

“Did she say when she was going on this trip?” I asked. Flora hadn’t mentioned any plans, which made me a little suspicious. What was going on with her? Of course, I couldn’t imagine that she’d have killed Bob but where would Flora have gotten the money for a trip? She was always complaining about how hard it was to survive on social security and a maid’s wages. As far as I knew, she was broke.

“You know she was a little vague about that when I asked. Said she’d have to come into a lot of money to afford it. But she must’ve been expecting some soon because why else would she be asking about a specific place?” Annabel shrugged and smiled, showing her ultra-white teeth, just like the ones Jaws showed right before he tried to eat the boat. “I don’t try to force them. Whenever someone comes in with a hankering for a vacation I know sooner or later they’re gonna buy.”

I exchanged a glance with Mom and Millie. This was not looking good. Flora thought she might come into some money, Paula claimed to have seen her rushing away from the scene of the crime, and Flora had denied that. What if Seth’s theory about Bob finding the treasure and someone killing him over it was true? And what if that someone really had been Flora?

I didn’t have long to think about it because a voice boomed from behind us.

“Heard about the goings-on at your place!” We all spun around to see Myron Remington standing there looking superior. “Seems like you’re racking up the bodies like nobody’s business. Maybe you should get a loan for a new wing. A mortuary wing.”

“I don’t think that’s anything to make jokes about, Myron,” Millie said.

“No joke, actually. I really could give you a loan. I have some great rates right now and I’d love to see that old place fully restored.”

I eyed him suspiciously and thought about taking on a loan. On the one hand, it would be great to get the house done in one fell swoop, instead of working on it a little at a time, but I was also maxed out on monthly bills. I couldn’t pay the note on a loan no matter how good the interest rate was. “I’ll think about it, Myron.”

He nodded. “Hey, how is the investigation going on that skeleton? Did I hear it ended up being Jedediah Biddeford?”

“That’s what Seth says, but there’s not much of an investigation going on. My daughter pointed out we could have a forensic anthropologist look into the old bones. Might be able to tell us more.” I couldn’t help the tinge of pride that snuck into my voice at the mention of Emma’s suggestion. Maybe I should suggest that idea to Seth, though not right now. In light of finding another body on my property, it would be best to steer clear of Seth Chamberlain and avoid making him feel like I was telling him how to do his job.

“That seems like it would be quite a waste, doesn’t it?” Myron fiddled with his silk paisley tie. “You know how I hate wasting money.”

“Well it wouldn’t actually be your money, Myron, but yes it does seem like a waste,” Millie said.

“Speaking of your money, did I hear you were in my yard trying to find the treasure last night?” I asked.

Myron looked taken aback. “Treasure? No. Why would I dig up treasure? I own a bank.”

“So you weren’t in my yard? With Stella Dumont?”

He looked sharply over at Stella’s table and she turned her back on him. “I should certainly say not. I couldn’t even get a shovel to dig up treasure if I wanted. Your maid Flora got the last one.”

Fifteen

Since I was already in town, I figured I’d visit Jen. I’d been so busy lately that we’d rarely gotten a chance to talk. I wanted to catch up. Okay, I admit that I had an ulterior motive. The post office was rumor central and I wanted to get some insider information on what people were saying about the murder.

Jen was standing about five feet from the open slots on the postmaster side of the post-office boxes with a stack of letters in her hand. She was oblivious to the fact that someone had come in, her concentration aimed at pitching each letter into its rightful post-box slot like she was practicing for darts.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Each letter made a hollow sound as it slid, hitting the slot door on the other side.

She noticed me as I approached the desk because she stopped pitching and turned, her mouth quirking in a smile.

“Oh, thank goodness. Someone to talk to. It gets so boring in here and I have to make up little games to keep myself amused.” She gestured toward the post-office boxes. “So, what’s up?”