Jen glanced up at me from the machine.“You think she could’ve killed her? Why? Seems like she’d want to keep her alive so she could get the story from Jed.”
Jen had a point. If Anita thought there really was a ghost and she killed off Madame Zenda, she’d be killing off the cash cow. “I think all this ghost business is malarkey. Someone is just hyping it up for their own purposes. What if Anita found out Madame Zenda was a fake? She saw all her hopes for an exclusive article and possibly selling the rights to the movie producer go out the window, so she killed her and staged it so she could make up some story about how the ghost killed Madame Zenda.”
Jen pointed to theOyster Cove Gazette on the counter.“She’s already published the story. Front page, too.”
I glanced over to see the headline:Ghostly Murder at Oyster Cove Guesthouse.That was sure to go over great with Myron and any potential guests.
Jen slammed the machine shut and pressed a button. The stickers advanced and she ripped off the first one and then leaned against the counter opposite me.“What are the police saying?”
“Millie hasn’t been able to get anything out of Seth thus far.”
“Maybe Millie needs to ramp up her efforts to extract information from him.” Jen was quite familiar with the methods Millie used to get information out of Seth and we both made a face. Neither one of us needed that visualization.
“I just hope it gets solved quickly. Myron seems very nervous about the loan. He’s afraid that it’ll hurt business at the guesthouse and I won’t be able to make the monthly payments.”
“Myron’s annoying. Maybe it will help business.”
“I don’t know. Someone did cancel this morning.”
“Maybe they were sick or getting a divorce or had some other reason to cancel.” Jen’s gaze drifted over my shoulder and the lines around her lips tightened. “Crap. Here he comes now.”
“Who?” I turned around just as Myron opened the door and trotted in, trailing an air of importance behind him.
“Josie! I’m glad I’ve caught you here,” Myron said.
“Me too,” I lied.
“I need to talk to you about this business at the guesthouse. I’m very worried.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Myron. It’s just a simple murder. I mean, it’s highly unlikely word would get out to anyone coming here to stay. Most of the guests are from out of town.” I leaned my arm on the paper to cover up the headline just in case he hadn’t seen it yet and conveniently didn’t mention the cancellation from that morning.
Myron scowled.“Be that as it may, it’s no good having those people in the guesthouse. You don’t know what they’re going to do next. Maybe even something ungodly like a seance. I say you need to get rid of them before something else happens.”
“What could possibly happen that’s worse than a murder?” I asked.
Myron shuddered.“Who knows with that ghost running about and all that.”
“Myron, you don’t actually believe in ghosts, do you?” Jen asked.
Myron straightened his blue silk paisley tie and pursed his lips together.“Of course not, but something’s going on up there and it’s not good.” He turned to me. “Anyway, I need to stop by later. I left my pen and notebook there and I need my notes.”
“Okay, I’m heading back soon.” The thought of seeing Myron twice in one day was not appealing; maybe I could just put his pen and notebook in the foyer.
The door opened and Mom and Millie bustled in, narrowing their eyes at Myron.
“Myron.” Millie nodded at him, then turned to me. “Josie, it’s time to go now. Are you ready?”
“Definitely.” I waved at Jen and let them pull me away. When I got to the door, I looked over my shoulder at Myron. “Stop by anytime. I’m headed home now.”
Outside Millie let go of my elbow.“He’s stopping by? Told you he had a crush.”
“Never mind Myron. Did you find anything out from Jen?” Mom asked.
“I didn’t find out much. Except that the murder and the ghost made the headlines. And it appears that Myron is getting more nervous about the loan he gave me.”
Fourteen
Nero usually didn’t spend much time in the attic unless he was hunting for mice. The small dormer windows didn’t let in enough sun for his liking and the smorgasbord of smells from the generations of people who had cast away their belongings was distracting.
The space was packed with broken old furniture, old clothing and various household items. Had no one who lived in this house ever thrown anything away? And the dust! It lay thick like a carpet on the floor, especially in the back area where the oldest items were. Nero had to tread carefully so as not to stir up too much of it. He didn’t want to get dirt on his pristine, white tuxedo chest.
“Seems like you’re getting kind of famous around town,” Marlowe said as she detoured over to sniff a pile of books. On their way back to the guesthouse, the cats had heard the townspeople gossiping about Jed’s ghost and the recent murder. Some were even talking about the treasure again, butno one seemed eager to look for it, thinking that Jed’s ghost was out to kill anyone who did.
“Someone is even talking about making a movie,” Nero added. Jed’s swirling form jerked in dismay. “I don’t think I want to be famous. I’m getting a bit tired of this old place now. I think I want to move on to whatever one moves on to.”
“Well then, why are you still here?” Marlowe asked.
“Good question. I feel like I’m stuck here for some reason,” Jed said.
“Unresolved issue,” Nero said. “There was only one reason for ghosts to hang around and that was an unresolved issue. In Jed’s case it made perfect sense because he’d been murdered. “Probably you want your killer named. You have no idea who it is?”
Jed shook his head.“None at all. I vaguely remember returning from Europe. I had that treasure, you know. But I didn’t trust too many people, so I buried it before anyone knew I was back in town. I had to keep it all a secret because I knew people were watching me.”
Marlowe’s eyes grew large. “They were? Who?”
Jed glanced around uneasily as if those people were still around watching him.“People in my own household.”
“You don’t say,” Nero said. They’d come to the very end of the attic where the light from the east filtered in through a perfectly formed spider web in the round window at the peak of the eaves. Here, the cast-offs were older and much more worn. Newspapers as brittle as dried leaves were piled in one corner. Wooden chairs hung from hooks on the wall, the wicker caning in the seats and backs broken and hanging down. An old steamer trunk sat in the corner practically disintegrating.
“Oh, it’s true.” Jed stood up straighter. “Course, I knew Helena—that’s my wife—might’ve been up to something while I was gone. She was none too happy about my trip to Europe.”
“Do you think she killed you?” Marlowe’s tail swished, sending particles from a patch of dust on the floor into the air.
Jed pondered that for a few seconds and Nero wondered what kind of woman his wife had been. Had she been mad enough to kill? And what happened to her after Jed’s death? Judging by the way the trunk had been shoved in the corner she might have packed up his things and forgotten about him. But that had nothing to do with the current happenings at the guesthouse… or did it?
“Don’t rightly know.” Jed glanced at the trunk. “I was shut up in that wall until now so I don’t know what became of her. I don’t think she had the skills to plaster a body inside a wall though.”
“She might have had an accomplice,” Marlowe suggested.
“If that’s true, they probably took the treasure,” Nero said. He was certain there was no buried treasure on the property as he would have sniffed it out by now. Treasure had a certain hopeful smell to it.