A Twist In The Tail

Nero hopped up onto the desk and pushed at the register with his paw.

‘Yeah, it’s just as I had thought, Tina didn’t check out. Stella doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’

Nero blinked.

‘But it makes me wonder… did Stella see someone who looked like Tina or did she lie? And if she did lie, then why?’

The guesthouse was extremely quiet. My stomach broke the silence with a growl so loud that it startled Nero, not to mention myself. It was unusual for it to be this quiet. Normally I could hear the hammering and sawing that indicated Mike was at work, or the television, or guests talking. But it was past supper time, Mike had gone home and it seemed that the guests were all out to dinner, as evidenced by the absence of their cars.

Just as well, I didn’t really want company. I headed back to the kitchen, the cats on my heels and thoughts of my visit with Stella on my mind.

I rummaged in the fridge, pulling out a bedraggled slice of pepperoni pizza, a few muffins that were leftover from breakfast and the remains of the seafood dinner I’d had two nights ago. Two glass baking dishes with foil wrapped around the tops were neatly stacked in the back. A note from Millie indicated they contained broccoli quiche for breakfast the next day.

That reminded me, I needed to figure out what to feed them for the rest of the week. I glanced over at the counter. Hadn’t Millie mentioned the sour cream coffee cake?

I shut the fridge, to the protesting meows of the cats. ‘Don’t worry guys I’ll get your dinner in a second.’

I opened a batter- and food-stained hardcover copy of The Joy of Cooking and leafed through the loose recipes stuffed inside. Some were on index cards, some ripped out of magazines, some just on pieces of paper. All in Millie’s bold scrawl in fading ink. A smile tugged at my lips. I remembered some of these recipes from when I was a kid and had visited Millie here at the guesthouse with my mother.

As I leafed through the recipes looking for something that sounded tasty but looked easy, I chatted out loud to my feline audience.

‘It’s too bad Stella didn’t have clogs on. If she had I would seriously suspect her as the killer. Then again, maybe she lied about having clogs.’ I stopped the sorting and thought about that for a second. ‘I guess if she was the killer and wore the clogs, she might be afraid they had blood or some other evidence on them and lie.’

Meow.

I pulled out a couple of recipes that looked interesting and put them on the counter. ‘And maybe she made that story up about Tina, but why?’

Mew.

‘She probably just did that to be mean. She’s like that, you know.’ I glanced down at Marlowe, who was watching me with her head cocked to the side. Did she give a little nod? I must have imagined it. ‘In high school she was one of those mean girls. Never could figure out what Mike saw in her. Not that I care. Is that why she keeps coming here, to see him?’

Merope.

‘Why would Mike lie about that?’

Meow.

‘I know. Men. Who can figure them out?’

I laid the recipes of interest on the countertop. I didn’t find the sour cream coffee cake recipe. I’d just have to pick something else.

‘I suppose Stella could have been here for a more nefarious reason.’ I glanced in the direction of the Smuggler’s Cove Inn. I could see the gulls circling it from the kitchen window. The deck had been set for dinner, but no guests were out there. Maybe they stayed inside because of the birds?

Was it possible that bookings at the inn were suffering because of the gulls? Stella had entered that contest where the winner would get five grand. Was it for the prestige of winning or because she needed money? And if she needed money, then having the Oyster Cove Guesthouse shut down would mean more customers for her. But would she stoop so low as to kill someone?

And let’s not forget that if Charles really was writing a new cookbook, then that book was missing. Had Stella somehow known about that and stolen it from Charles? What if that’s why she’d been here and he’d caught her and a struggle ensued that ended up in the closed off section of the guesthouse?

Nero jumped up on the counter and nudged my hand. Was that his signal that he wanted to be petted? But when I reached out a tentative hand, he let out a loud meow and almost scratched me. All righty then, here I was thinking that cat wanted affection but probably was just getting impatient for supper.

‘I know, you must be hungry but you have to get down from the counter. If Barbara Littlefield came in and saw you, she’d close me down!

I bent down and opened the cabinet where I kept the gravy-style canned cat food Millie had said they liked. The recipes fluttered down onto the floor around me. Nero had pushed them off the counter.

I looked up to see him peering over the counter at me. ‘That’s no way to get your supper.’

Nero jumped down and batted at them.

‘Hey don’t rip these, they’re the only recipes I’ve got.’