A Twist In The Tail

I glanced back at my guesthouse. Maybe it was a good thing that I hadn’t put in outdoor dining yet. Then again, I didn’t have a problem with seagulls like Stella did. Her place was directly over the water, while mine was set back a bit, up on a hill with a panoramic view. Not only did the gulls circle her deck, I’d heard talk downtown that a few dead ones had been found on it as well. Nothing more unappetizing than a dead gull on an outdoor dining deck. Unfortunately, dead gulls weren’t that unusual around here these days. The gulls seemed to be dying off at an alarming rate and their sad bodies had been found washed up on the beaches and even in the park downtown.

‘Did you want something?’ Stella came deck’s edge to look down at me. ‘I would think you’d be trying to figure out who killed your guest.’

‘I am. Which brings up the question. Why do you keep coming over?’

She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me.’ Actually, she didn’t have to play, she was dumb, but I was less likely to get the truth if I let that slip out. ‘Flora said she saw you over at the kitchen door.’

Her eyes flicked in the direction of the guesthouse. ‘Well I might have gone over a few times to see a certain person.’

‘So you’ve been lurking around the guesthouse to see Mike?’

‘Mike and I are good friends.’ She leaned over the railing, a knowing look in her face. ‘Very good friends.’

That figured. I wasn’t surprised in the least. Except… if she really had been coming over to see Mike, why had he lied about it? He would have no reason to say he thought she’d been coming over to see me, unless he didn’t want me to know that he was still carrying on with her. But why would he care if I knew? Someone was lying, that was for sure.

I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘So you really were coming over to see Mike?’

‘So what if I was? It’s none of your business.’

‘It’s not. Well, other than the fact that a guest was murdered and you were seen lurking around.’

‘I haven’t been lurking!’ She waved the white cleaning cloth at the seagulls who had resumed their circling. ‘I’m very busy, if you must know. I have guests, gulls and other stuff going on. I don’t have time to listen to your false accusations.’

That’s right, she did have ‘other stuff’ going on. Like that cooking contest that would win her bragging rights and five grand. The contest that she might need an innovative and unusual recipe for. ‘You weren’t interested in getting your hands on a certain cookbook, were you?’

‘What? No?’ Stella flapped the towel even though the gulls were gone. ‘Why would I want a cookbook? That’s just silly.’

Now that she seemed a little rattled, I figured I’d toss out another question. She might be flustered enough to give an incriminating answer. Though honestly, I seriously doubted that Stella could pull off that kind of murder. Someone would have to know how to mess with the stairs to make it look like an accident, not to mention the sneaking in and out, and the planning. ‘Did you know the victim was a food critic? Maybe he ate at your place?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What? No. I didn’t know anything about the victim. Look here, just because you got one of your guests murdered and you’re jealous that Mike likes me better than you doesn’t mean you can come over here and start accusing—’

Splat!

Seagull poop landed smack dab on the toe of her white tennis shoes. Darn, what a shame, she’d probably never get the stain out. Good luck for me though, because it gave me another opening. ‘That’s going to stain. You should probably be wearing your chef’s clogs out here.’

Stella had crouched to rub vigorously at her shoe. She scowled up at me. ‘Clogs? I don’t wear chef’s clogs. These sneakers are more flexible. Easier on the feet in the kitchen. Not that it’s any of your business.’

‘I was just making a suggestion.’ I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t wear clogs. Like I mentioned before, I didn’t think she had the brains to be the killer. But something about her told me she wasn’t telling the whole truth about why she’d been at my guesthouse. Mike hadn’t seemed like he was lying. But why would Stella? But she didn’t wear clogs, so that ruled her out as the killer. Unless she was lying about that too.

‘Well I don’t need your suggestions.’ She scrubbed harder at the shoe. Just as I’d suspected, that stain was not going to come out easily. ‘If I were you, I’d pay more attention to your own inn instead of coming over here and trying to find out what’s going on with mine. Maybe if you did, your guests won’t need to seek accommodations elsewhere.’

What was she talking about? Were my guests leaving now because of the murder? That’s all I needed. No guests meant no income and no income meant failure. I just couldn’t let that happen. And I certainly couldn’t let it happen if it meant the guests would now be staying at the Smugglers Bay Inn. Was that why Stella had been lurking? Had she been poaching my guests?

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.