“Maybe they were clever enough not to leave footprints.” Nero studied the furniture in the attic. Someonecouldhave traversed a path to the trunk without leaving footprints, he supposed.
“The guests hereare a sneaky bunch. I think we have a bit more investigating to do. The buckle is a dead end.” Marlowe fluffed her tail. “Get it?Dead end.”
“But how would they do that? Levitate?” Nero had heard of things like levitation and astral projection and he’d seen Victor meditating, but his butt had always been planted firmly on the chair.
“Guess we need to find that out,” Marlowe said.
Jed had swirled over to the window and was dripping ectoplasm on the floor.“I saw that mean banker skulking around out there. I don’t much like him. He worries Josie and I don’t want her to worry. Maybe I should haunt him.”
“Not a bad idea.” Nero smiled at the thought of Myron being haunted, especially since Myron seemed to be getting worked up about all the ghost talk.
Jed tapped his fingers on his lips.“I think I have an idea that can help out Josie, and my beautiful Esther, plus give Myron the shaft.”
Nero perked up.“I like that idea. Will it help find the killer?”
“Whose? Mine or that tarot reader’s?”
“Either.”
“Maybe not. But I’m not really all that keen on finding my killer anymore. Since I’ve been communicating with Esther my feelings about moving on to the afterlife have changed.” Jed got all dreamy looking and his normally white ghostly image turned pink.
“Yech,” Marlowe said.
Nero agreed, but at least Jed wasn’t fixated on Josie anymore. If he attached himself to Esther and wanted to stay on the earthly plane, then he’d be leaving when Esther did and that was just fine with Nero.
“So, what are you going to do that will help Josie and Esther and annoy Myron?” Marlowe asked.
“Not sure exactly yet. I’m working on a plan, though,” Jed said.
“Speaking of annoying Myron and working on a plan, we need to do both.” Nero hopped down from the old Eastlake bureau he’d been sitting on so he could look out the window. “I say we start with annoying Myron. He hates getting cat hair on his nice slacks. Let’s go find him before he leavesand rub up against the bottom of his pants.”
Eighteen
Mom and Millie headed off to the police station to try to wheedle some more information out of Seth Chamberlain. I stayed behind to catch up on household chores. I kept an eye out the window for Anita Pendragon. She was up to something and I wanted to catch her in the act. It took a few hours, but luck was with me. I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes when I saw her peeking out from behind a lilac bush. I hurried out to catch her at whatever it was she was up to.
I picked my way along the side of the house, my back pressed to the paint-peeling clapboards as I used the house for cover. I was at the back of the building and hadn’t gotten around to scraping and painting the exterior here yet since it wasn’t visible to the guests.
I came to the corner and quickly darted over, taking refuge behind a giant rhododendron. Peering out from behind the glossy leaves, I watched Anita as the floral smell of summer flowers wafted over. Out here in back of the house only the hum of buzzing bees broke the silence.
Anita appeared to be scoping out the grounds. What on earth was she doing? I had news for her too, her lime-green-and-turquoise shirt did little to camouflage her behind the dark green shrub.
I snuck up behind her very quietly and when I was within two feet I said,“Aha!”
Anita whirled around dropping her navy-blue tote bag as her hands flew to her heart. Once she recognized me her eyes narrowed to slits.“Josie… Waters… what in the world are you doing… scaring me like that!”
The nerve of her yelling at me!“What are you doing lurking in my bushes?”
Anita recovered from her scare. Now she looked angry instead of startled. Smoothing down the bottom of her shirt, she said,“It’s a free country.”
“Not quite, this is private property.”
“Okay, fine. I’m here doing investigatory journalism. There was a murder here, you know. And a ghost is running about. The people have a right to know.”
“Why does that necessitate lurking around in my yard?”
She leaned toward me, lowering her voice.“Your guests aren’t the most innocent of people. They’re suspects, you know. And besides, they get up to some strange things. Seances in outhouses and convening with spirits in gazebos.”
I had seen some of the guests skulking around in the yard, but seances and spirit communications?“Are you sure they’ve been doing that?”
“I’m not sure what they’re up to, but whatever it is, I’m getting the scoop.” Anita crossed her arms over her chest and adopted a bit of attitude. “You might thank me for that. It’s down to my investigating out here that I found Madame Zenda’s body. If I hadn’t come by, there’s no telling how long she would have been moldering out there.”
Found her there orput her there? I didn’t want to rile Anita up any more than she already was so I kept silent, scowling at her with my hand on my hips. I figured I’d let her talk and maybe she’d incriminate herself.
My silence must have unnerved her. She looked away.“Mark my words, someone in this guesthouse is up to something.”
“Yeah and I think it’syou.”
Anita jerked back.“Me? What are you talking about? I’m just reporting what people need to know and if it happens to be a good story that sells, well then, what’s wrong with that?” She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t see why you’re so upset about it. Unless you have something to hide, like the fact that you’re a killer.”
Now it was my turn to get upset.“Why would I kill Madame Zenda?”
“It would make for good publicity. Come to think of it, you’ve had a couple of murders here. And didn’t the discovery of the skeleton bring you the guests you have now? This would make a good story. The black-widow guesthouse owner who kills her guests.”
“Now wait just a minute, I didn’t kill anyone! I helped catch the first two killers and now I’m going to catch this one. Which brings me to my question: Why did you break into the guesthouse?”
“Break in? What are you talking about?” She looked away. “I’ve never been in there.”
Now I knew she was lying. Could she really be the killer? And if so, maybe it was dangerous to confront her like this. But my brain must have been a few seconds behind my mouth because the words came out before I stopped to think about the safest course of action.“Ed saw you peeking in the window and said you might have been in the house, and Flora said you tracked mud into the back foyer. Now, why would you lie about that if you weren’t the killer?” I got my cell phone out of my pocket. “I’m calling Sheriff Chamberlain.”
“No wait!” She shifted on her feet, her eyes darting from the house to me. “Okay. Fine. Iwas in the guesthouse but not because I’m the killer. As I’ve told you, I’m working on a story. There might be a movie deal and… well… I needed an insider so I could get a scoop on what was really going on.”
“Madame Zenda?”
“Yeah, at first. She was my contact.”
That explained the open windows.
“That’s why I was the one who found her. She was going to talk to Jedediah Biddeford that night.” Anita chewed her bottom lip. “Though to tell the truth, I think she might have been a fraud. Anyway, she wouldn’t tell me exactly where and I was trying to figure that out so I could see the communication, but instead I saw her body. She was dead when I got there.”
“And you didn’t see the killer leaving or hear anything?” I was dubious.
She shook her head.“I wish. That would have made a great headline. ‘Reporter Captures Killer.’ But I didn’t see a thing. Of course, I was a bit freaked out, what with her lying there. I didn’t kill her though. Why would I? She was my contact.”