‘Or Tina had a lover that killed Charles. I guess either way, jealousy is a strong motivator,’ I said.
Ava nodded her head enthusiastically.‘Yes, that is a very good theory. Are the police going to make an arrest?’
‘That I don’t know,’ I said.
Ava nibbled on a muffin and made a face.‘Now that would be one for the columns. A love triangle murder.’
I frowned. Hopefully Ava wasn’t considering publishing a story about Charles’s murder.
‘Such a sad thing that people want to hear about murders and affairs now instead of balls and coming-out parties like in my day,’ Ava said.
‘People certainly have become ghoulish,’ I agreed.
Ava brushed the crumbs off her fingers and stood.‘Well, I guess things never stay the same. I’m just glad the police are onto somebody. I hate to think of the killer just wandering around in here. Now that the tea has warmed me up, I think I’ll get my old bones under the comforters. Always get so tired once the sun goes down.’ She glancedout the window and then headed toward the front stairs.
She must’ve passed Flora because I heard her asking the maid to bring her an extra blanket. To my surprise Flora agreed and said she would be there in a few minutes. With the lack of work Flora did, I figured she would’ve told Ava she was clocking out, but she hadn’t. Maybe Flora wasn’t a total loss after all.
Flora came into the parlor and flopped down in the chair Ava had just vacated.‘Dang guests, got me running all around.’ She glanced at the basket. ‘Oh muffins, don’t mind if I do.’
She plucked a muffin out and popped half of it into her mouth.‘I’m exhausted. Changing all those beds is hard work and I also did some dusting and now I’ve got to get that blanket. You know the dusting is hard enough, even without all that cat hair.’ Her words were barely intelligible because she was mumbling around her food.
Suddenly I realized that if Flora changed the beds, she would know if Tina had been home the night Charles was killed.
‘It must be very difficult,’ I agreed, pushing the muffin basket closer since she’d already finished the one she’d started. ‘You must be glad you don’t have to change them all every day.’
She swallowed hard and frowned at me.‘What are you getting at? Are you saying I don’t do my job every day?’
‘No not all. Just that if the beds haven’t been slept in…’
‘Yeah, that’s right. Why would I have to change the bed if it hadn’t been slept in? Did that little tart Tina complain? I don’t see any reason to change her bed if wasn’t slept in. Well I’ll tell you, she’s a fine one sneaking off to another hotel.’ She leaned back in her chair.
‘So Tina wasn’t here one night?’
‘No. And I’ll have you know. There’s no sense in changing the bedclothes if someone isn’t here. First of all, its work that doesn’t need to be done and second, it saves on electricity, hot water and laundry detergent. I mean, its bad enough I have to clean up straw and feathers and muck.’
‘Straw?’
‘Yes, those old people with the cameras. When I went in to clean up their room it was dirty with straw and twigs and feathers. Pigs!’
Nero and Marlowe had come into the room and jumped up on my lap. I absently petted them as I thought about Flora’s words. Straw, twigs and feathers sounded like nesting material. I knew they were birdwatchers but I had no idea they’d gotten close enough to the nests to have nesting material on them.
Thunder boomed in the distance and Flora jumped up.
‘Looks like the storm’s brewing and I aim to get home before the big rain starts.’ She pointed at her owlish eyes. ‘Can’t see very good with these old peepers anymore. I’ll just get that blanket to the old lady and be on my way.’
‘Okay, don’t worry about me, I’ll clean up in here.’ As if she would worry. The first rain drops splattered on the window, but I wasn’t paying attention to the weather. I was busy wondering what the Weatherbys had been up to and whether or not Seth Chamberlain had confronted Tony Murano.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Nero practically jumped out of his fur as thunder boomed in the distance. He snuggled further into Josie’s lap, enjoying the soft stroking of her fingers more than he cared to admit.
Marlowe kneaded Josie’s thigh. ‘I don’t like where this is going. Josie might be getting herself into a heap of trouble. She was asking Ava a lot of questions about Tina and Charles. She might be getting ready to interrogate a suspect.’
‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t confront the wrong person.’ Nero glanced at the basket of muffins. He wasn’t much of a muffin eater, but the butter on the other hand was quite delectable and enticing.
‘You think she’ll notice if we lick the butter?’ Marlowe echoed his thoughts.
‘Most likely.’ Nero glanced longingly at the bright yellow stick in the crystal dish. ‘I think we need to focus our attentions on making sure Josie doesn’t do anything rash.’
‘Yeah. Especially if the killer is around on a night like this.’ Marlowe shivered and glanced out the window.
‘Maybe we should sleep in the bed with her tonight?’ Nero tried to keep from quaking as another thunderclap boomed. ‘I mean for her comfort, of course, not for ours.’
‘We can try.’
‘Though of course you know what we must do,’ Nero said.
‘Of course. Try to sleep on her head and then only after she has shoved us away twenty-five times we can curl up beside her, but we must take up a sizable amount of space on the bed.’ Marlowe repeated what Nero had instructed her of early on.
Nero nodded.‘You have learned much.’
Josie set Nero aside and he hissed at her to indicate that she should only do that when he wanted her to. She looked down at him.‘When we were just getting along, now you hiss at me?’
Nero purred and put his head down and she patted him.
‘Now that’s better. I suppose I better figure out what to make for breakfast.’
Nero and Marlowe followed Josie into the kitchen and watched as she fussed around with the recipes.
‘We must stick to her like glue, she’s headstrong and may say the wrong thing to the wrong person,’ Nero said.
‘Agreed,’ Marlowe said.
Nero glanced out at the dark night, a grim feeling of foreboding coming over him.‘And tonight especially, we must be alert. My seventh sense is telling me the killer may return to the scene of the crime, and if he does, we will have to be here to protect our human.’
Fourteen
I listened to the rain splatter against the windows and prayed the power wouldn’t go out while I pawed through the recipe file in search of something to make for breakfast the next morning. The sour cream coffee cake would be nice, a great comforting treat after a big stormy night. Where was the recipe?
Maybe it had gotten wedged somewhere when I dropped the file the other day. The cabinet door under the sink didn’t close right. Maybe it had fluttered inside and was laying amongst the bottles of Windex and stacks of sponges?
I got down on all fours and stuck my head inside the cabinet. Marlowe and Nero trotted up beside me. In fact, they’d been sticking to me like glue all night. Probably afraid of the storm.
Kaboom!
The cats jumped and so did I, hitting my head on the inside of the cabinet. Ouch. At least the sound of the thunder had been muted with my head inside that thing.
I pulled my head out. I couldn’t hear a darn thing with it inside the cabinet, but I was expecting to hear a flurry of footsteps above as my guests leapt out of bed. But no. They all must have Ambien prescriptions because they were apparently fast asleep, tucked into their quilt-covered beds.
I stood, rubbing the back of my head and Nero jumped on the counter.
Meow.
‘Hey, I just washed that. Get down.’ I waved my hands at the cat who simply turned his back on me to look out the window. Good thing Barbara Littlefield wouldn’t be making a surprise visit tonight in the storm.