A Twist In The Tail

Seth turned the bag back to face him. ‘Of course it’s not the whole review. But anyone can put together that he was writing something about the inn being ‘dull’ and the food ‘icky.’ The killer clearly took the rest of it because they didn’t want anyone to find it.’ His eyes drilled into mine. ‘And who wouldn’t want someone to find a bad review about the Oyster Cove Guesthouse?’

‘Lots of people,’ Mom chimed in.

‘I didn’t even know who he was until Ava mentioned it just now,’ I said.

Seth made a face. ‘You expect me to believe that? Your husband is a famous chef, surely you’d have heard of the Laughing Gourmet.’

My expression turned sheepish. ‘I never really paying that much attention to what my husband said.’

Seth didn’t look like he believed me. I had visions of him whipping out handcuffs and hauling me off to jail. Millie must have had the same vision because she stood and went to Seth’s side, possibly to distract him.

‘Josie wouldn’t kill anybody over a review. That’s ridiculous.’ Millie patted his arm.

‘People have killed for less, Millie. You’re too nice.’ Seth beamed at her.

‘Be that as it may, I have known Josie since she was in diapers and she is no killer.’

Seth frowned and swiveled his gaze back to me. ‘What about that time she was caught trying to sneak out of the bowling alley with the rental shoes still on?’

Millie waved her hand dismissively ‘Teenage hijinks. Besides, stealing shoes can hardly be compared to killing someone. I hope you’re not getting any ideas about arresting Josie. That would be foolish. You have no concrete proof. This isn’t even a letter, just some partial words. You wouldn’t want to arrest the wrong person, would you?’

Seth considered that for a second, then said, ‘Maybe arresting the wrong person is better than arresting no person. We haven’t had a murder in this town in more than a hundred years and I think the townsfolk will be nervous and want to know that the police are doing something.’

‘A false arrest will not gain their confidence and it will also ensure that I don’t bake you any more of my blueberry pies.’ Millie let go of his arm and stomped back to her chair.

Seth’s face fell. ‘Okay, fine. But if I get any more evidence that points to you, Miss Josie Waters, you won’t have to worry anymore about what to serve for breakfast to your guests. You’ll be getting served breakfast yourself. Too bad it will be bread and water at the Oyster Cove jail!’

That wasn’t true. I happened to know they served eggs for breakfast there, but I was scared anyway.

Seth left and I exhaled. ‘Really? He was going to arrest me because of some partial words on a piece of paper? That’s ridiculous,’ I said. Was it possible that Charles was writing a bad review about the guesthouse? He’d been mad about the egg, but surely that wasn’t enough to write a bad review? Even if it was, why would someone else kill him over it?

‘Of course it is dear,’ Mom assured me.

‘We know you’re no killer. But unfortunately Seth doesn’t have much experience in murder cases. He’ll want this wrapped up as soon as possible. There’s only one thing for us to do.’

‘That’s right.’ Mom pushed up from her chair and headed for the door. ‘We need to figure out who the killer is before Seth tries to arrest Josie again. The best place to start is the victim’s room.’

Four

Nero sunk his paws into the silky blue duvet on Charles Prescott’s bed and fluffed. ‘Now that the police are gone, I hope the humans figure out they need to look in here for clues. If they don’t come up soon, I’m game for a nap. This is my favorite room.’

Charles had been staying in what Nero referred to as ‘the blue room.’ As you might have guessed, the room was a lovely shade of light blue. Nero found that the combination of the powder blue and gold silk oriental rug, Victorian-era sky-blue flowered wallpaper and the robin’s egg blue silk bedding to be very relaxing.

The room also had all antique furnishings, handed down from Millie’s ancestors, like the mahogany dresser and the four-poster bed. Nero loved the antiques because they were rich with lingering scents of lemon oil and pride from generations of use, unlike the new stuff that smelled like glue and a quick buck.

Marlowe poked her head in quickly from the adjoining bathroom. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure that the humans will come. I don’t think that redhead is too smart.’

‘You mean Josie?’ Nero asked as Marlowe disappeared back into the bathroom to continue the search.

‘Yeah, she said she owned us. She’s clearly not too quick on the uptake.’ Marlowe’s voice was muffled, likely because she had her head in the trashcan.

‘She’s just oblivious to the ways of felines. I sense that she has a kind heart and I think she’s worth training.’ Nero hopped down from the bed. He’d already canvassed the room for clues and was waiting for Marlowe to catch up. He knew there was one whopper of a clue in the room and wanted to see if the younger cat could figure it out.

‘Train her? You mean by not doing as she asks?’