A Twist In The Tail

‘She was instrumental in putting a stop to that big hotel on the cliff – what do you think would’ve happened to the guesthouse if that had been built?’ My mother glanced out the window in the direction of the shore.

I had to give Barbara that. Last summer, she’d discovered growing up on the cliffs a plant, very rare in Maine, called Furbish’s Lousewort. She formed a committee and petitioned the state to declare the area where it grew protected, and in the nick of time. Some big conglomerate had been finalizing plans to build a huge hotel up there.

‘But why be so hard on the guesthouse? It’s one of the oldest buildings in town and I fully intend to renovate it in keeping with the way it was back in the day.’

‘You left town, so you’re sort of an outsider in Barbara’s eyes. She doesn’t trust you yet. Give her time.’ The cats came in and trotted over to Millie without even giving me a glance. Guess they forgot who their owner was now. I had to admit I was a little bit jealous of the way they settled in on Millie’s lap.

‘I guess the cats prefer their old owner,’ I said, earning a cold glare from Nero.

‘Owner?’ Millie was aghast. ‘Cats don’t have owners, dear, it’s the other way around. The sooner you realize that, the better your relationship with them will be.’

Nero shot me a smug look and then curled up and went to sleep.

‘I have to say, though, I don’t know what this town is coming to,’ my mother said. ‘First dead gulls then dead people.’

‘Now Rose. Don’t you worry,’ Millie said. ‘Why there’s been hardly any problems here in town for decades. We’re due and now that we’ve had these two pieces of bad luck it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out.’

I hoped Millie was right. I had invested everything I had into the purchase of the guesthouse and was counting on it being filled with guests for the summer season. The dead seagulls weren’t a problem for me though. Gulls generally stayed away from the guesthouse, possibly because of the cats. If that were the case, I’d have to thank them. Seagulls could be annoying pests and I didn’t want them swooping around and driving away business. While I didn’t wish harm on any of God’s creatures, I wasn’t going to cry about fewer gulls. Then again, having dead birds wash up on the beach, like they had been doing lately, wasn’t very attractive to tourists either.

There was a sound at the door and I turned to see Mike.

‘I thought I heard you, Auntie.’ Mike gave Millie a peck on the cheek then turned to my mother. ‘Rose, how are you?’

‘Just fine Michael. Tommy said to say hi to you by the way.’

Mike winked at me and rolled his eyes. My mom had been calling him Michael since childhood, no matter how many times he told her he preferred Mike. ‘How is Tommy doing?’

My mother rolled her eyes. ‘Good, except he seems to think Maine is too far to come for a visit.’

My brother Tommy had moved to Florida a few years ago and now claimed Maine was too cold for him and only came to visit twice a year. I personally thought maybe he didn't come often because Mom’s antics with the crime scenes and all were a bit much for him. Luckily, I was here to try to reign her in... not that that was working out very well.

Mike gave my mother a sympathetic look and turned to me. ‘Hey Sunshine, I heard about the police verdict that your guest was actually murdered. I was wondering if I could do anything to help?’

‘I don’t think I really need any help, do I?’

Mike shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing, I’m almost positive someone messed with those stairs.’

I frowned. ‘Why would someone do that?’

‘To mask the murder of course, dear,’ Millie said, as if I was some kind of a dunce.

My mother nodded. ‘Yes of course. They were probably hoping Sheriff Chamberlain would say that it was an accident.’

Huh, that was interesting. He almost did say it was an accident… and hadn’t Ron Weatherby mentioned that small town police forces usually didn’t have the capacity to investigate thoroughly? I hoped that wouldn’t be the case here, a murder was bad enough but an unsolved one was even worse.

‘What kind of tampering do you mean?’ I asked Mike. If someone had murdered Charles on purpose, then tried to stage it as an accident, they would’ve spent a bit of time in that room. But that section had been blocked off, the doors locked. I supposed anyone could have picked the lock, and the sounds of tools echoing through the guesthouse wasn’t uncommon since Mike was working on repairs.

‘The stairs were pretty rotten, but it looked like someone helped them along. The way the boards broke look like they were snapped in two as opposed to breaking from the pressure of someone standing on them. And, the nails had been pulled up.’

I wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Tell the police? Could they figure that out on their own? And what did Mike know about stairs anyway? Sure, he was doing carpentry work here, and he seemed to be doing a good job, but he’d been a Navy officer before. Carpentry was just a sideline.