I whirled around. Mrs. Ellis stood in the doorway, her face blotchy and streaked with tears. She clutched her carpet bag with white knuckles.
I rushed over and guided her to one of the tables by the window. Greta came around the front of the counter and placed a cup of coffee and a packet of tissues on the table. I nodded my thanks. She disappeared behind the counter again, leaving us to talk.
“The police came around to speak with me yesterday,” Mrs. Ellis sobbed. “They asked me all these questions. Poor Gladys was poisoned.”
Greta’s head snapped up. “No, no. My food would not make her sick. I use only the freshest ingredients—”
“Not food poisoning, Greta,” I said. “Actual poison. They said she’d ingested a fatal dose of arsenic.”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Jo told me I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. It had barely been twelve hours and I’d already failed her.
Mrs. Ellis sobbed.
Greta paled. “That’s horrible. Who would do such a thing?”
“The police believe it’s someone on the Banned Book Club.” Mrs. Ellis wrung her bag between her hands. “But I just can’t believe it. I’ve known most of those ladies for decades. Well, except for Ginny Button, but she’s a lovely girl, and so respected in the community. She works at the council.”
“It must be so upsetting,” I said. To Greta, I handed over a twenty-quid note. “Could you add one of Mrs. Ellis’ favorite cream doughnuts to my order please?”
“They had better find the murderer soon,” Greta said, speaking slowly and carefully, like she was trying to find the right words in English. “People will think my food is poisoned. They will not buy from the bakery, and I will go bankrupt and my brother and I will lose our home.”
“That’s not going to happen. Mrs. Ellis and I will tell everyone we see that it’s not your fault,” I assured her. Mrs. Ellis nodded unhappily.
While Greta went back behind the counter to finish my order, I leaned across the table and took Mrs. Ellis’ shaking hands in mine. “You told me yesterday that Cynthia Lachlan was angry with Gladys because she blocked the King’s Copse development.”
“I don’t know if Gladys actually blocked the application, but she blabbed Cynthia’s secrets. That was wrong of her, but she felt it was her moral duty to let the committee know what kind of a man was trying to build at King’s Copse.”
“Did you tell that to the police?”
Mrs. Ellis shook her head.
“I know you don’t want to speak ill of your friend, but it could be important. Mrs. Lachlan might’ve been the one who poisoned Gladys to get her out of the way!”
“I just can’t believe that Cynthia would do such a thing. She and Gladys have been friends for so long. Gladys was her bridesmaid when she married Grey! Friends don’t go around killing each other just because they have a falling out.”
“I know they don’t.” That was exactly what happened with Ashley and I. When she turned up dead in the shop, the police assumed I was the murderer. “But the police really need to know all the information.”
Greta slid my box of goodies across the table. I handed Mrs. Ellis a bag containing a delicious-looking cream doughnut dusted with icing sugar. She bit into it gratefully, smearing a dab of cream on the end of her nose. “You have to help us, Mina. You’ve got to find the real murderer.”
I slid a napkin across to her. “Huh?”
Mrs. Ellis clutched my wrist, her eyes wide and earnest. “You’re such a clever girl. You were one of the brightest students I ever taught. And you figured out who killed the Greer girl before the police even had a clue. I can’t stand it if they take Cynthia in without considering another theory. Please, help me find out who killed my friend!”
Chapter Ten
Still reeling from my discussion with Mrs. Ellis, I stopped by the charity shop on the corner to pick up a standing lamp I’d seen in the window yesterday. I emerged a few minutes later, three pounds poorer but with a large oak stand and cream lace shade under my arm. The lamp would go perfectly in the dark corner on the first floor beside the Folio Society shelves. I wondered how many lamps I could stash in the shop before Heathcliff noticed.
I set the lamp down to open the front door of the shop, flipping the sign around so it read ‘OPEN’. Unlike the last murder, there wasn’t a crowd of onlookers outside. It appeared news of Mrs. Scarlett’s death hadn’t made it around the village yet.
I left the lamp in the hallway and took Heathcliff his breakfast. “This coffee is cold,” he muttered as I handed him the cup across his desk.
“Sorry. I was talking to Mrs. Ellis at the bakery.” Quickly, I filled him in on how she begged me to help solve the murder.
“I told you that book club was going to be nothing but trouble,” Heathcliff growled. “Don’t have any more bright ideas about how to improve the shop. You attract murderers the way Grimalkin attracts fleas.”
I thought of my lamp in the hallway and smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll do a little snooping for her. I want to see the killer brought to justice just as much as she does.” I shuddered at the memory of Mrs. Scarlett’s reddened face.
“Does this mean the bloody police are going to be poking around my shop again?”
