“For goodness sake, Birdie,” Phyllis snaps. “Keep your opinions to yourself. Have a little tact, will you? She’s sitting right there.”
I, of course, glance around, expecting to see Mrs Abernathy come wandering along, one hand clutched in Dusty’s, until I realise Phyllis isn’t some sort of psychic but is actually talking about the creepy-looking urn on the table.
“Here we go, ladies.” Trudy sets a large teapot down on the table as one of the community centre helpers adds plates and teacups, a sugar bowl, and a small jug of milk. “Help yourselves.”
There’s a slight lull in the conversation and the subtle chink of china as teacups are filled and brownies and scones devoured.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Larry says as she spots someone trying to get her attention. “I really should say thank you to the others who came.”
“So, had you all known Delores long?” Danny asks as Larry heads toward another table.
“Years,” Ivy declares. “She wasn’t always like that. The dementia got a lot worse in those last few years, didn't it?”
Trudy nods as she bites into a brownie.
“She was such a clever thing,” Phyllis muses while sipping her tea. “And always had a kind word for everyone. That is, until she deteriorated so much she couldn’t really hold a conversation. Just kind of sat there, had to have a carer with her at all times or she’d just wander off.”
“Yes, very sad,” Vera murmurs to theclick clackof her knitting needles.
“So she didn’t have any enemies? Anyone who might wish her harm?” Danny inquires conversationally.
“Good lord, no.” Trudy wipes the crumbs from her fingers on a paper napkin. “Everyone loved Delores.”
“Clearly not everyone”—Chan raises a brow—“or she wouldn’t be dead.”
I give him a discreet elbow.
“What?” He mouths silently.
“Honestly”—Trudy waves her hand—“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Delores.”
“Maybe it was the government,” Birdie says, tapping the side of her nose and winking.
“The what?” I stare at her in disbelief.
“The government.” Ivy nods sagely. “Delores was one of those code-breakers when she was younger, wasn’t she? Then after the war, she worked for the Ministry of Defence… never did say what it was she did for them.”
“That was because she’d signed the Official Secrets Act,” Trudy replies as she leans back in her chair.
“Exactly!” Ivy exclaims in triumph. “I bet she was a spy.”
“Did someone say pie?” Violet looks up hopefully. “Yes, please, with custard. Tastes bloody awful with ice cream.”
“I bet someone bumped her off because she knew too many secrets,” Ivy says to Danny, ignoring Violet. She sidles up closer to him and he, in turn, edges towards me.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Trudy snorts, sliding further down in her chair. “She hasn’t worked for the government in nearly thirty years. Why on earth would they want to finish her off now?”
“Because she was losing her marbles.” Ivy blinks owlishly and leans in closer like she can’t quite focus. “Never know what secrets she might’ve accidentally spilled.”
“Losing?” Birdie cackles. “Lost her marbles, more like.” She smacks her lips. “I’m hungry. Is anyone else hungry?”
Danny tries to interject some sense into the conversation. “I really don’t think the government was responsible for Delores’ death. Besides, I hardly think they’d use something as dated as arsenic.”
There’s a rustling sound beside me as Chan opens a packet of cheese and onion crisps, popping one in his mouth and grinning as his head bounces back and forth between everyone like he’s watching a tennis match.
“That’s exactly what they’d use to throw you off the scent,” Birdie declares as her gaze lands on the crisp packet in Chan’s hand.
“Hey!” Chan cries out, indignant, when Birdie plucks them out of his grasp and starts munching her way through the bag.
