A Twist In The Tail

This wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped. Okay, be more specific and get her talking. I walked over to the plants that were growing under the lights and made a pretense of admiring them while sweat rolled down my back. There were some dead plants on the lower shelf and I purposely didn’t mention, those focusing on the live ones instead. ‘Take these for example, they’re very green even though they are so young.’ I bent closer to them and reached out my hand to touch one.

‘Watch out!’ Barbara rushed over and practically slapped my hand away. ‘Those are

endangered lousewort. Be careful.’

Bingo! The perfect opening for me to ask about the cliff. ‘Speaking of that. I’ve heard some of my guests talking about that and was wondering if you’ve seen them on the cliffs?’

‘Your guests? No. That area is off limits.’

‘I know, but it has a nice view.’

‘View, schmoo. The endangered plants are up there and no one is allowed.’

‘But the Weatherbys are avid birdwatchers and the gulls’ nests are near there and they eat the berries. Surely you must have seen them up there?’

She just glared at me and repeated, ‘No one goes up there.’

Darn. She hadn’t seen anything. She’d probably have made big scene about it if she had seen them anyway. Was it possible that I was on the wrong track, that Charles and the Weatherbys weren’t up there? ‘Not even Charles Prescott?’

‘You mean the man who died?’

I nodded.

‘Nope. Never even met the man, much less saw him in a protected area. I would have written him up if I did. Now if you’re done asking me inane questions and trying to bribe me, I have work to do.’ She practically shoved me out the door.

I supposed that Charles could have been on the cliff when Barbara wasn’t there. She spent a lot of time tending to the lousewort, but she couldn’t possibly be up there every minute. And, if the Weatherbys were up to something suspicious, wouldn’t they make sure they were alone? Unfortunately my whole trip had been a waste, but just because Barbara hadn’t seen anyone, didn’t mean that they hadn’t been there.

Barbara hadn’t been a wealth of information, so I left her office disappointed. I had been hoping she could corroborate my theory about the Weatherbys and had seen them doing something suspicious.

Since I was in town, I figured it was only fitting that I pop in and visit Jen. Seeing her always lifted my spirits and I could use someone to bounce my theories off of and help me figure out what to do next. Mom and Millie were fine to investigate with, but I needed another opinion.

As I started down Main Street toward the post office, my phone pinged. It was Emma.

Just checking in. How you doing?

How nice was that? My daughter was taking the time out of her busy day to check up on me. Then I frowned. Maybe she’d been talking to mom again and had gotten an earful of information about dead bodies and potential suspects.

I’m great. Don’t listen to anything grandma tells you.

It took a few seconds for her reply.

Lol. I just want you to be safe. Remember, don’t jump to conclusions without the proper evidence. That’s what I learned in school.

How the tables had turned. When Emma was a teenager, I’d texted her advice trying to keep her out of trouble, now she was texting it to me. But she had a point. Did I have the proper evidence to suspect the Weatherby’s or was I jumping to conclusions?

I won’t, don’t worry. I’m too busy running the guesthouse for that.

Okay so it was a little white lie. Probably no worse than some of the things she’d texted me when she was young. Of course, her reply speared me with guilt.

Okay, Mom. Gotta run. Love you!

Love you too.

I put my phone in my pocket and continued on to the post office, my thoughts swirling about the Weatherbys. I was starting to second guess myself. What did I really have on the Weatherbys? The fact that they didn’t know technical information about cameras and had straw and feathers in their room? Flimsy at best.

I held the door for two senior citizens who were leaving as I exited. Their smiles faded as they recognized me, and they sidled away as if I was contagious.

‘Morning Mrs. Fisher and Mrs. Newhart,’ I said pleasantly.

Mrs. Newhart narrowed her eyes and nodded.

Mrs. Fisher grabbed Newhart’s arm and hauled her down the street

They shuffled off, heads bent together, hose wrinkled around their ankles. I thought I heard some words drift over to me ‘…heard she was involved in a murder…’