A Whisker In The Dark

“She’s not up to speed yet though,” Marlowe added. “Last night she misconstrued our communications and even though she knew the mug was a clue, we aren’t sure she realized what we meant by it.”

“True,” Nero mused. “Perhaps it would be best if we try to bring Millie.”

“Millie is certainly a possibility.” Boots tugged at his whiskers. “But does Millie have enough clues to figure out who the killer is?”

Juliette swiped her paw toward the shovel. “The murder weapon seems like a big enough clue. I’m sure the police can do forensics on it and figure out who the killer is.”

Boots sniffed and turned up his nose. “Their lab tests are far inferior to our feline senses.”

“Is that so?” Harry asked. “Then you tell me. Who is the killer?”

“Well… err…” Boots glanced around the area. “There isn’t enough evidence to say. Having said that, are we sure Millie will even want to present the murder weapon to Sheriff Chamberlain?”

“What do you mean, will she want to? Of course she will, because it may prove who the killer is,” Marlowe said.

“Precisely my point,” Boots said. “What if the killer is someone Millie does not want revealed? Someone she is very close to and has a vested interest in protecting.”

Nero’s heart dropped at the thought. Normally he would never even think that Millie would shield a killer from the law. But Millie was loyal to those she loved and Nero knew that Sheriff Chamberlain had Flora on his suspect list. But it couldn’t be Flora, Nero was sure of it. He was a good judge of character and beneath Flora’s gruff exterior was a kind heart. Never mind that she’d lied about a few things and never mind that her shoes had smelled like burned loaf cakes. She simply couldn’t be the killer. But that begged the question… who was?

“Well one thing we know is it ain’t no ghost,” Stubbs said.

Nero would have laughed, if laughing wasn’t beneath him. “Of course not. Although half the town thinks it is. If there was a ghost, we would be seeing it.”

It was common knowledge that cats could see spirits from other planes, though humans seemed to find the idea hard to grasp. What did they think the cats were doing when they stared at the wall or into the corner, apparently at nothing? Since Nero hadn’t seen a ghost at the guesthouse, he was confident that Jed’s spirit had not returned.

“But that means the killer is much more dangerous. A human. A human who thinks he or she is getting away with murder,” Harry said.

Nero’s expression was grim as he looked down at the shovel. “We need to bring this to the attention of the humans before it’s too late. If my guess is correct, the killer is planning to dispose of it once the heat dies down.”

A rustling in the bushes startled them and they turned, ears like radar dishes figuring out what made the sound.

“Uh oh,” Poe said. “Looks like we may be too late. Unless I’m totally off my game, that’s the killer and they’ve come back to find a better hiding spot for the murder weapon.”

Twenty-Three

Ed should have been working in the west wing, but he wasn’t. We searched the house, finally bumping into him as he came in the back door that led to the overgrown gardens. He seemed surprised to see us and possibly a little bit guilty as he wiped off wet hands on his jeans.

“So, where have you been?” I asked.

A flicker of surprise at my accusing tone passed over his kindly face and I was speared with guilt. Was I jumping to conclusions?

“I was out by the water spigot washing off my paint brushes. I started doing the trim work in the game room. Would you like to see?”

“Not right now.” I glanced back at Millie. I probably should have prepared a line of questioning or something, but I hadn’t and suddenly didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Millie took over.

“Ed, we were just talking to Mike and he mentioned something odd about the conservatory,” Millie said.

Ed straightened, his eyes narrowing. Aha! I hadn’t been jumping to conclusions.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, Josie here says that you haven’t done any work in there yet.”

Ed couldn’t meet my eyes. Or Millie’s. “That’s right.”

“But Mike said he was inspecting some work you’d done for structural integrity.”

Ed bit his lip but remained silent.

I took that as guilt. “Ed, what were you doing in there? Does it have anything to do with the treasure or the murder?”

Ed’s eyes widened. “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

I glanced at Millie. Mom was leaning against the wall, her eyes half closed. She was no help. Ed sounded genuinely surprised at my question. “Well, it’s obvious you are up to something. You lied to me. Why else would you do that?”

Ed sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Okay, fine. I admit I lied. But it was what you’d call one of them little white lies.”

A little white lie? About murder and treasure stealing?