We followed the cats up the narrow creaky stairs. No wonder I never took these things; the ceiling was low, the walls closed in. It was claustrophobic. I got a little winded by the second floor but Mom and Millie practically ran up and I didn’t want to seem like a wimp, so I pressed on, even though the increase in temperature as we ascended caused sweat to drip down my back.
When we got to the top of the stairs I unlocked the door with the old skeleton key that I’d grabbed from the butler’s pantry, and the door opened with an ominous creak.
I’d only been up in the attic once, when I had looked over the place to buy it, and then I’d only peeked in. Even though I’d spent a lot of time at the guesthouse as a little girl, the attic had held no interest for me and now I could see why. It was dusty and full of cobwebs. Big cobwebs. I looked around for the spiders that lived in them, but they must have all scurried to dark corners.
There must have been a dozen generations’ cast-offs up here. During the negotiations to purchase the place, Millie had vaguely mentioned it came with all sorts of antiques and things I could use for the guesthouse. She’d made it sound like a bonus, but I’d been skeptical. Turns out I was right, the place was crammed full of things that needed some sort of repair and a good clean.
Nero and Marlowe led us on a path between old pieces of furniture, lamps and boxes. They trotted straight to the oldest part of the house. I sneezed a dozen times as our footsteps kicked up dust from the thick layer that was on the floor. It was so thick that the cats’ paws had made little prints in it as they’d walked ahead. I could see they’d been here a couple of times judging by the number of paw prints.
Up ahead, the cats were perched on an ancient trunk, their eyes tracking us as we approached.
“This is all the old stuff that was here when I was a little girl.” Millie looked around at the piled-up junk. This section did appear to have items that were much older… and much more deteriorated.
“The trunk looks ancient.” The cats hopped off as I approached. They stood at my feet, looking up at me as if encouraging me to open it. If I had any doubts before that the cats were trying to communicate, I didn’t now.
“That’s a steamer trunk,” Mom said. “For going on ships. Very old.”
“It must have belonged to Jedediah Biddeford!” Millie lifted the top. It creaked and groaned as she pulled it up gently.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mom said as she peered in.
“The old buckle.” Millie reached in and started pushing the items aside. The smell of mildew wafted up and I sneezed again.
The trunk contained old clothing and personal items. Mom gingerly held up the shoulders of a disintegrating tweed suit. “This looks like the suit Jed was wearing in that drawing. You know, the one in the Oyster Cove history book.”
Millie glanced at the suit. “It sure does. And if that’s in here, maybe those shoes are in here. And if the shoes are in here… are the buckles with them or is one missing?”
We carefully moved the items aside. No shoes.
“No shoes. No buckles.” Millie looked excited. “Do you think this is where the killer got the buckle from?”
“Who had been up here?” Mom asked.
“Ed said he heard someone and thought it was Anita Pendragon.” I glanced around at the dusty attic floor. “But…”
“Any of the guests could have snuck up here, though,” Millie said.
“Wait, something isn’t right.” I swiped my finger through the thick layer of dust on an oak table that sat beside the trunk. “The floor was covered in dust when we came up. The only thing disturbing the path to this trunk was the cats’ paw prints. I remember looking at them.”
We all looked back toward the path, which of course was now marred with our own footprints. “There’s another path from the corner there.” Millie pointed to a row of furniture and boxes, which had been pushed aside to form a narrow path, but it had a layer of undisturbed dust. “Hmmm, no footprints there. So how would someone have gotten to the trunk?”
“They couldn’t. Not unless they hopped across the furniture,” I said.
“Or floated over like a ghost.” Mom glanced around the room as if expecting one.
“There is no ghost.” Millie closed the trunk. “The shoes and buckle were probably never in here. We don’t know for sure that the buckle on Madame Zenda was actually Jed’s. I’m sure there are other old buckles that look like his. Now let’s get a move on, we have suspects to scrutinize. This buckle angle is a dead end.”
“I know you guys mean well.” Millie picked up steam as we neared the attic door. “But I’m not sure what you wanted to tell us. We already know this is all about the psychics pretending they are talking to Jed. Is that what you were trying to tell us?”
