Because if Victor was the killer, I had no intention of letting him get a movie deal with his fake communication with Jed. And if he wasn’t the killer… then I was afraid he might be the next victim.
It was late afternoon when I got to the bank. The free cookies at the teller window reminded me that I had to start thinking about tomorrow’s breakfast. Millie would have a fit if I didn’t have something in mind. I grabbed a cookie—chocolate chip—and headed toward the back of the bank where the display was located.
The area wasn’t large, just a case built in to the wall and a roped-off area where an old oak rolltop desk sat. On top of the desk was a brass lamp with a green shade, an inkwell and an old silver pen atop a desk blotter. An antique brass-and-black-enamel sign for the teller window sat off to one side, along with the old-fashioned window complete with iron bars and frosted glass.
The locked case had interesting old coins, many of which weren’t even used for currency today. Myron sold old silver dollars and other old and rare coins at the bank, but the ones in the case were much older.
The wall beside the case had a pictorial display of town history. The etching of Jed that Anita had was there, along with other drawings and old grainy photos of the bank along with the changes to the building over the centuries. On the end was a copy of the old etching of the Oyster Cove Guesthouse highlighting the connection between the Remingtons and the Biddefords and Thomas Remington’s humble beginnings as Jed’s butler. I turned away, depressed. There were no old clothes. Maybe another cookie would perk me up.
But before I could make another trip past the plate of cookies, Myron stepped in my path. Perfect, as if the trip wasn’t a downer before, now I had to deal with him.
“Josie, what brings you here? Your loan payment isn’t due until the thirtieth.” Myron smiled at me, but I could tell it was fake.
“I know. I was just… um… checking my balance.” I certainly didn’t want him to know about my suspicions. He was already acting strangely enough as it was, no need to remind him of the unsavory happenings at the guesthouse.
Myron’s brows tugged together. “Don’t you do that online?”
“Sometimes. Hey, speaking of wondering why someone is at a certain place, why were you at the guesthouse earlier today?”
Myron looked taken aback.“What are you talking about? I didn’t see you at the guesthouse earlier.”
“You were out on the grounds. Near the barn and overgrown gardens.”
Myron glanced around the lobby, probably making sure no one overheard the awkward conversation. He was all about keeping up appearances, which was probably the reason why he was so bothered by the ghost business at the guesthouse. And the murders… though I suppose anyone would be bothered by that.
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Myron said.
I looked down to see cat hair on the cuffs of his pants. There were little black ones mixed with brown and white. Nero and Marlowe? Usually Myron was very fastidious about his appearance, so if the cats had rubbed against him when he’d been there earlier, surely he would have cleaned the hairs off by now. The cats couldn’t possibly be in the bank, could they?
“Speaking of the grounds.” Myron lowered his voice. “I spoke with Mike Sullivan about the gazebo and you’ll have to watch out that people don’t go out to that ramshackle thing before it’s fixed properly. Wouldn’t want a lawsuit. That would be grounds to terminate the loan. I may have to inspect that thing myself when Mike takes a look at it later.”
Ed would start work on the gazebo shortly and I vaguely remembered Mike saying something about coming out to inspect the gazebo for the permit. Had Mike said something about it to Myron? I was skeptical, as I was pretty sure that if something was wrong, Mike would have mentioned it to me first. I didn’t think guests were in the habit of going to the gazebo anyway, but even so, Myron was probably making something out of nothing. Which made me wonder if that was why he’d been out there earlier in the first place. Was he looking for a reason to call in the loan?
I was about to ask when Rita Fortin came into the lobby. She was from a wealthy family and liked to flaunt it with designer outfits and purses that cost as much as a compact car. Today was no exception. She scanned the lobby from behind overly large sunglasses, her gaze stopping when it fell on Myron. Always one to follow the money, Myron immediately hurried over to suck up to her without so much as a goodbye to me.
It was just as well, what I had been about to say to him wasn’t very nice. Better to have some time to cool off before I got Myron riled up. After all, he did hold my future in his hands.
As Myron ushered Rita into his office, Belinda May, one of the tellers, started toward me, shooting looks over her shoulder at Myron to make sure he didn’t notice.
“Hey, Josie, I have this for one of your guests. I was wondering if you could take it back for them. I was supposed to meet them later today, but my grandmother is ill and I can’t.” She held a plain A4 manila envelope out to me.
“You want me to give this to Victor?” I mean, I assumed it was him since he was the one with an agenda. The envelope had no name on it.
“No. Esther. That nice crystal-ball lady.”
“She was here?” I looked back at the display area then down at the envelope, remembering how upset Esther had been at Victor’s pronouncement.
Belinda glanced around as if to make sure no one could overhear.“She was looking at the memorabilia area, then she gave me a lovely reading with her crystal ball. Of course, Myron wasn’t here then. I do hope her readings are true. She said a silver-haired fox would sweep me off my feet.”
“She did, did she?” I shook the envelope. Nothing rattled. “So, what’s in the envelope?”
“Oh, just some information about the bank’s history.”
“Why would she want that?” I felt along the envelope, expecting to feel the bulk of a buckle or button or something, but it was flat. Just paper.
Belinda shrugged.“I guess she found it interesting. Don’t worry, it’s nothing confidential. I mean, I’m sure it’s okay to give out, but you know how Myron can be… speaking of that, I need to get back to my station.”
She rushed off, leaving me staring at the envelope. I was dying to know what was in it and why Esther would want information on the bank’s history, but it was sealed. Did I dare open it? I wasn’t sure I wanted to tip off Esther to the fact that I’d seen the contents. Which left me wondering… what in the world was Esther up to?
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Nero sniffed the contents of the Styrofoam container that Harry had pilfered from the dumpster of the Marinara Mariner. Red sauce, linguini… ahhh… there was a morsel of succulent shrimp. Nero gobbled it up and then licked his paws, washing his white tuxedo to remove any evidence of sauce.
“No squid-ink dish today.” Juliette hopped down from the rim of the dumpster and eyed the container in front of Nero. “The only thing in here is common food, unfortunately.”
“Indeed.” Boots sniffed the air with disdain.
Nero had to admit, it was smelly here in the alley beside the restaurant. But sometimes Tony left good scraps for them and it was worth a try. Besides, they had an ulterior motive to meet there, it was across from the bank and they’d been watching Myron ever since Marlowe and Nero had seen him at the guesthouse.
“Myron hasn’t left the bank since we started the stakeout.” Stubbs’ voice wafted up from the dumpster. “Speaking of which, I wish Tony had put some steak out.”
“What’s going on with the police?” Nero asked Harry.
“According to Louie, Millie and Rose came to the station and tried to get information out of Seth but he clammed up,” Harry said.
“Clam sauce? Don’t think so. I don’t smell any in here!” Stubbs yelled from the dumpster.