A Whisker In The Dark

I did the math. Myron and Carla would have been at Yale at the same time. It was possible they’d worked together to kill Bob… but why?

“Is breakfast ready?” Earl asked, startling me out of my reverie.

“Almost. Go ahead in there and I will get everything set up for you.”

I rushed back into the kitchen after putting the mug on the sideboard where Carla liked it to be placed right next to the coffee urn, which I noticed with approval Flora had already set to percolating.

I rushed back into the kitchen, gathered the breakfast items together and walked them out to the sideboard.

I hovered in the doorway, watching everyone eat contentedly, if not a bit solemnly. They were shoveling in the quiche. No one complained about the lack of pancakes. Had one of them killed Bob?

My eyes drifted to the Yale mug. That mug could be the key to uncovering what really happened. But I still wondered if Paula had really seen Flora. Maybe Paula was in on it with her sister and Myron and they were trying to point the finger in Flora’s direction. And what about Ed? I didn’t dare mention my suspicions about him to Mom and Millie, they’d known him for years and would defend him as they had Flora. I didn’t want the killer to be Ed either. Myron and Carla were much better suspects in my book.

The crunch of tires on gravel pulled my gaze to the window. Mom and Millie were here and I couldn’t wait to tell them what I’d discovered.

I heard the kitchen door open and then Millie’s voice. “Josie is something burning?”

Twenty

I rushed in to the kitchen to see Millie rescuing the loaf pan from the oven. She put it on the counter and waved the smoke away, then sniffed.

“Oh, it’s the apple-pecan bread.” Then she sniffed deeper. “I think it needs more cinnamon. How long did you put it in for?”

“Ninety minutes just like your recipe said.” I gestured toward the timer on the microwave still ticking down. “It still has ten minutes.”

Millie looked at me as if she felt sorry for me. “Josie, that time was for a full loaf pan. You have to reduce it for the smaller pans.”

Darn. Who knew that you cooked things for less time when they are in a smaller pan? I probably should have. Lucky thing I’d decided to start small with my experiment and I still had some of the batter left. Besides, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

“Never mind about that.” I glanced back out into the hallway to make sure none of the Biddefords had followed me in. “I think I’ve discovered something.”

“Do tell,” Millie said.

“Remember how Myron lied about being here the night Bob was killed?”

“Yep.” Millie tasted the batter I’d mixed, then puckered her lips and rummaged in the spice drawer.

“Do you know where he went to college?”

Mom huffed. “Who could forget? He went to Yale. His father always made a big deal out of that, making the rest of us feel like our kids were inferior.”

“Why do you ask?” Millie sprinkled some cinnamon into the batter, grabbed a spoon and mixed it in.

“Well, Carla went to Yale too. She even has a mug that she makes me wash out so she can drink out of it. That’s how I put two and two together when I washed the mug this morning.” I hadn’t done that all on my own, though. Nero had practically pushed that mug off the counter. Had he been trying to point me in the right direction? Or had he just been trying to smash the mug on the floor because he also thought it was ridiculous that Carla brought her own mug?

“So you think they knew each other?” Mom asked.

I nodded and opened the oven door for Millie to slide in the two tiny loaf pans she’d filled with batter. I made a mental note as she set the timer to thirty-five minutes.

Millie shut the oven door, a twinkle in her eye. “We found out something about Myron last night too. His ancestor was Jedediah Biddeford’s butler.”

“I found that too! In the history book that you wanted me to bring for the table at the town celebration.” The cats had been interested in that book as well. Except it had seemed like they didn’t want me to read it. Maybe I was reading too much into their actions?

Millie’s face fell in disappointment. “You already knew?”

I nodded, pushing down the pang of guilt at Millie and Mom’s looks of disappointment. Investigating was a source of pride for them and they clearly didn’t like the idea that I’d also discovered their key clue.

Millie broke into a genuine smile and turned to my mother. “Josie is turning into a good detective. We should include her in all our cases.”

Cases? It sounded as if they were contemplating becoming private investigators or something.

I held my hands up in front of me, palms out. “I think I have plenty to do just running the guesthouse.”

Mom looked me over as if I were an unworthy job applicant. “I don’t know. I suppose she might come in handy to drive us around while we interrogate suspects and look for clues.”