The action is too late. The pies and tarts land with unnerving precision, detonating like little sweet fruity grenades that explode pie crusts and fillings everywhere. In the crowd, I catch a glimpse of Trudy Wells, always so prim and well put-together, standing with her eyes wide in shock as blackberry filling drips ponderously down the side of her face and a big glob plops onto her pristinely pressed cream-coloured blouse.
It’s chaos everywhere. The children present scream in delight, thinking it’s a brilliant game, as they pick up any cake or pastry they can find and start throwing them, all while clapping and dancing like savages. Chairs topple, tables are knocked askew, and tiered cake stands fall.
For a moment, I’m struck by how much this carnage reminds me of when a massive pie fight ensues at Fat Sam’s in the final scene ofBugsy Malone. I almost look over at the piano pushed against one of the walls, expecting someone to suddenly belt out,You Give Little Love.
“Damn,” Dusty remarks mildly. “She’s spry for an eighty-year-old.”
I follow Dusty’s gaze and see Maeve navigate her way down the stairs exiting the stage but when she reaches the bottom step, her way is blocked by the stranger in the trench coat who was with Danny earlier. Without missing a beat, Maeve raises her handbag and clocks him squarely on the side of the head, sending him sailing into the nearest table.
“What is it with old ladies and their handbags?” Dusty watches the spectacle unfold avidly. “I wish I had some popcorn,” she mutters, almost as an afterthought.
Maeve, seeing her chance, scurries between the tables and heads for the exit. Suddenly a table shoots across the floor, barring her way. I turn to Dusty, raising a brow.
“Don’t look at me.” She holds her hands up. “I didn’t do it.”
We both turn to Mrs Abernathy, who is looking in Maeve’s direction, but the action only holds her attention for a moment. Losing interest, she turns to Dusty and offers her handbag.
“Not right now, Delores.” Dusty lowers her hands and puts her arm around the little old lady. “I think the person responsible for your death is about to get her just desserts.”
“Really, Dusty?” I throw her a dry look and she grins.
Maeve, who wasn’t that fast in the first place and is now blocked by the table, finds herself suddenly surrounded by Maddie, Danny, and the two police officers, who are all covered in various splotches of cream and fruit fillings and lightly dusted with sugar.
I hurry over to meet them as Danny carefully pulls the old woman’s hands behind her back and cuffs her as gently as possible.
“Tristan, what are you doing here?” He frowns when he sees me.
“Making sure you’re okay,” I reply honestly. “I had no idea how wild and dangerous these old ladies are.”
“You’re not kidding,” Maddie scoffs before turning to Maeve.
“Edith Anderson, aka Maeve Landon, aka Harriett Walker, aka Peggy Johnson, aka Iris Carter, you’re under arrest for the murders of Delores Abernathy, Albert Walker, Gavin Johnson, and Peter Carter. You are also under arrest for fraud and theft.” Maddie looks up as Danny’s friend approaches with a neatly folded white handkerchief pressed to his temple. “And assault,” she adds for good measure. “I have no doubt we’ll also be adding a murder charge for Charles Landon.”
“What?” I stare at them.
“Edith here is a black widow.” Maddie looks at her in disgust as she finishes reading the old woman her rights. “She likes to poison her husbands, then change her identity and move on.”
“But I don’t understand.” I frown as I look at the old lady staring belligerently at Maddie. “Why kill Mrs Abernathy? She was the sweetest, most harmless lady.”
Maeve turns her attention to me and I have to admit it's unnerving how cold her eyes are.
“She was a cheat,” she hissed. “She should never have been allowed to enter the Jam Tart Society Social last year, let alone win it. She had one of her carers at the home bake it for her.”
“What the actual fuck?” I exclaim in absolute disbelief. “Are you seriously telling me you killed her over a bloody pie contest?”
“She was a cheat,” Maeve says stubbornly. “So was the foreign girl.”
“The foreign girl? Oh god, you mean her carer Polina, don’t you?” Maddie’s eyes narrowed. “You poisoned Polina on purpose, didn’t you? She didn’t get sick because she ate Mrs Abernathy’s scone by accident.”
Maeve tightens her lips and glares.
“Wait.” I lift my hand, shaking my head as I try to assimilate all the information. “So her name isn’t Maeve?”
“No, her real name is Edith,” Danny says, looking down at the woman with a scowl. “And I don’t care how long it takes to unravel all the details of her crimes, I’ll make sure she answers for every single life she’s destroyed.”
“Thought you were going to get away with it, didn’t you?” Maddie glares at her.
“I would’ve gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you fuc–”
