‘One of the guests had an accident,’ I said.
Mike came to my side.‘Are you okay?’
My heart almost melted at the tone of genuine concern in his voice until I remembered what a pain in the neck he’d been when I was younger. Especially that time when I’d heard he was going to ask me to the junior prom. Then he changed his mind and asked slutty Stella Dumont instead. Not that I really cared that much, now. That was decades ago and I’d been married and divorced since then, but the adolescent sting of rejection never goes away. Mike never married, but who knew how many ‘Sunshines’ he’d gone through in all those years. Since he’d spent most of his time touring the world in the Navy, I assumed it was plenty.
I swatted him away.‘Of course I’m okay. I’m not the one who had the accident.’
‘Make way! Make way!’ voices demanded from the hallway. They belonged to my mother and Millie, proving that just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. I should’ve known they’d be here. They had a police scanner app on their cell phones and showed up at almost every crime scene, usually before the police did.
‘Glory be, Josie, is this any way to treat the guests?’ As soon as Millie stepped in the room, Nero and Marlowe swiveled their attention to their previous owner. They trotted over, winding around her ankles and purring as she bent down to pet the cats in a movement that belied her age.
Her eyes fell on the egg cup.‘Oh, Grandma Tower’s china egg cup. Why is this on the floor?’ It was a miracle it hadn’t broken. At least I still had some luck left.
‘Not to mention the egg.’ My mother picked up the soft-boiled egg and looked from Mike to me. ‘You young people sure get up to strange things.’
‘We weren’t up to anything. I dropped the egg when I found Charles.’ I inclined my head toward the body.
‘Oh.’ My mother’s gaze moved to Charles’ body, over which Millie was now standing. You’d think my mother and her best friend would be shocked to see a dead body, but apparently all the crime scenes they’d attended had hardened them.
‘I don’t think this will be good for business.’ Millie tore her gaze from the body and glanced back at the doorway, where Ava Grantham still stood. ‘You’re not going to put this in the paper, are you Ava?’
Ava made a face and waved her hand dismissively.‘Of course not. I write society columns, not obituaries.’
‘Good. Now what we need to do is secure the area. Make sure it doesn’t get contaminated,’ Millie said.
‘And we need some gloves.’ My mother turned to me. ‘Josie do you have any gloves? Like maybe those yellow dishwashing gloves that Flora uses?’
‘I, err…’ I’d never seen Flora wearing yellow gloves, but that might be because she refused to do dishes.
‘And paper bags,’ Millie added.
Before I could say anything, there was a commotion at the front door. The police were here.
‘We’re down here!’ Millie yelled.
‘Don’t worry, we’ve secured the scene,’ Mom added.
Seth Chamberlain, the Oyster Cove sheriff, appeared in the doorway. I wasn’t sure how he kept getting elected because he was older than my mother and Millie and about as effective in fighting crime. Given the way my mom and Millie had turned into elderly CSIs, maybe that was a compliment. Anyway, rumor had it that Seth was just such a nice guy that people kept voting for him. Besides, there was hardly any crime in Oyster Cove.
‘I don’t see any prints in the dust here.’ Millie pointed at the dusty steps.
‘And we haven’t determined how the killer got in or out,’ Mom added.
Killer? Surely my mother was being overly dramatic.
‘Killer? It’s obvious the guy just fell down the stairs. They’re unsafe!’ Barbara crowed.
‘Now ladies, I’m perfectly capable of determining what happened here,’ Seth’s tone was gruff, but I could tell by the way he looked at Millie that he had the hots for her and she could get away with just about anything.
Millie blushed and fussed with her curly cotton-white hairdo.‘Why, we were just trying to help.’
‘I know. That was nice of you. Now how about everyone clear the area and give us room to work.’ Seth ushered us out.
I went willingly, my mind whirling with my mother’s insinuation. I felt bad that Charles had died, but I had to wonder… would it be better for business if someone had killed him as opposed to him falling down unsafe stairs?
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Nero licked his paw and washed behind his ear as he watched the humans leave. Worry and guilt gnawed at him. Death had come to the guesthouse and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
‘I hope Millie isn’t too disappointed in us, but we sent out the alert as soon as we smelled death. It’s not our fault Josie is slow in understanding our communications.’ Marlowe swished her tail, her eyes on Seth Chamberlain, who was inspecting the body.
‘Indeed.’ Nero continued washing. He took pains to keep his fur shiny and silky. Even a cat on his sixth life liked to look good. You never knew when a sultry Siamese or a cute Cornish Rex might be favorable to his attentions. ‘But perhaps we could have prevented this before it happened. Murder is not good for business.’
Marlowe jerked her head in Nero’s direction. ‘Murder? But this is an accident. Look at the stairs.’
‘Things are not always as they seem.’ Even though the situation was not ideal for the Oyster Cove Guesthouse—not to mention it not being ideal for Charles Prescott—Nero wasn’t about to pass up a chance to share some of his wisdom with the younger cat.
Nero had been watching over the Guesthouse for decades now. He’d wandered past the aged estate one day and knew it should be his home. Millie’s senior memory prevented her from realizing the cat had been there much longer than any normal cat would have lived. In those decades, he’d become very protective of the Guesthouse.
Marlowe had joined more recently. Nero had to admit he had been a bit put-out when Millie had brought Marlowe home as a young kit she’d found abandoned under a bush at the shopping mall about ten years ago, but over time he’d grown found of his young protege. Besides he had to have someone to pass his wisdom on to. And she could be good company. Sometimes.
Marlowe’s eyes widened. ‘You mean you’ve seen a clue that someone else was here?’
Nero simply nodded. Over at the body, Seth was taking care to leave things as undisturbed as possible for the medical examiner. The deputy, Johnnie Sanders, was taking pictures and the part-timer Sheila Watts was taking notes. Nero was glad they hadn’t noticed them and shooed them out. Cats weren’t usually welcome at crime scenes, but he’d learned that he could make himself practically invisible to humans if he was quiet and slowly slunk around, low to the ground. It worked well for sneaking into rooms and buildings too, though getting out could be a challenge if the humans shut the doors on you.
‘You think he came through that door up there and the stairs simply gave way?’ Sheila pointed to the tops of the stairs.
‘Looks that way.’ Sheriff Chamberlain leaned closer to the broken stairway. ‘These treads are rotted and the banister must have fallen off.’
‘That might have even happened before.’ Sheila inspected the edges of some upper treads still intact. ‘There’s dust here in the holes, so I think part of the banister might have fallen off long ago.’
‘Even more dangerous.’ Seth looked at the body. ‘What kind of fool would attempt these stairs, especially with no railing?’
Nero glanced at Marlowe. He wished the young cat would hurry up and find the clue before Seth Chamberlain made a faulty decision about the manner in which Charles Prescott met his maker. Honestly it was too bad that humans only had one life, otherwise Charles would be walking around in no time, and they wouldn’t have this problem on their hands.