She didn’t look fine. A splotchy purple bruise covered half her face, and there were more bruises on her arms. She clicked the button on her bed to raise her head up to face us, and the twist of her jaw revealed how the jerking movement pained her.
I can’t believe someone tried to kill this sweet lady.It didn’t seem real.
“Pffft. What do doctors know? They’re even worse than those incompetent detectives,” Mrs. Ellis scoffed, gripping her cousin’s hand. “Brenda, our book club is being picked off one by one, and they’restillholding Gray and Cynthia. Why, the Lachlans couldn’t have attacked you, because they’re behind lock and key!”
“I just spoke with Inspector Hayes,” Mrs. Winstone said, annoyance flickering across her features. “That silly bobby doesn’t believe Gladys’ death was related to my attack.”
“Bah! Then he’s an even bigger fool than I first thought.” Mrs. Ellis rubbed Mrs. Winstone’s fingers. “Now, don’t you worry. Mina is going to help us catch the person who attacked you.”
Mrs. Winstone’s eyes widened. “Mina, is that true? Oh, you really are a treasure.”
“I’m going to try,” I promised, because that was what you did when a person in a hospital bed looked at you with such a hopeful expression. “But you’ve got to remember that I’m not a police officer, so I don’t—”
“Oh, I don’t trust that Inspector Hayes as far as I could throw him, even though he is very handsome with that mustache.” Mrs. Ellis sighed. “Do you have a suspect in mind?”
“A couple,” I thought of Miss Blume speaking with Ginny at her cottage, and Dorothy Ingram’s angry face at the church. “I’m starting to put things together. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was at the library, speaking with the librarians about running a children’s craft and story hour. They’re very enthusiastic, especially after they’d heard such good things about my management of the youth group. Apparently, all those lovely children are begging me to come back.” She smiled wistfully. “On the way home, I stopped at the market and picked up some groceries. I was setting the bags on the front stoop and hunting in my purse for the keys when someone leapt out behind me and hit me across the face with something hard.” She winced as she raised her arm. “I remember thinking, ‘you’re not going to get me the way you got poor Gladys!’ I lunged at the assailant, grabbing their arm and wrestling with them. I managed to seize the object they struck me with – it was long and round and wooden – but they wrenched it free and kicked me and I fell and hit my head on the stoop. They hit me a few more times,” she gestured to the bruises on her arms. “They must’ve thought I was a goner because they scarpered without finishing the job.”
A long wooden object, like Dorothy Ingram’s walking stick.
“Did you get a good look at the person who attacked you? What can you tell us about them?”
“It was a slight person, maybe a woman, but I couldn’t say.” Mrs. Winstone wrung her hands. “They wore a veil over their face and dark clothing. It had just started to go dark when I got out of the car, and the bulb over the door is broken, so I’m afraid I can’t say more than that for certain.”
“And did you mention to anyone at the library that you planned to go to the shops?”
“Well… yes. A couple of ladies from church were in front of the library, handing out leaflets listing church-approved reading material. I stopped to chat. Cassandra Irons and Dorothy Ingram agreed with me about the dismal vegetable selection at the market. Dorothy told me they got in fresh carrots from the Ingles farm that morning and if I got in quick I’d be able to procure some for dinner.”
“So Dorothy knew you were going to the market?”
Mrs. Winstone nodded.
“And what about cars on your street as you drove home? What about your husband – where was he? Did he notice anything unusual?”
“Oh, Harold’s out of town on business, chasing down some old archives to do with the old hospital project. He’s been gone for a few days now, and he said not to expect him back for at least three weeks.”
“And he can’t drop it to see you in the hospital?” I was starting to believe what Mrs. Ellis had said about Harold Winstone, famous historian.
“Oh no, I told him not to worry about me,” she beamed. “I’m fine, and Harold is so wrapped up in his work. I don’t want to disturb him. As for what else I remember, there was a grey car parked on the corner as I turned in. I recall it distinctly, as it was parked on the street outside my neighbor Gillian Appleby’s place and that’s very unusual. Gillian’s visitors always park in her driveway, but I happened to notice her curtains were closed. It didn’t even look like she was home.”
I turned to Mrs. Ellis. “Do you know what kind of car Mrs. Ingram drives?”
“Why, I believe it’s a grey Nissan,” Mrs. Ellis said. “Mina, what are you suggesting?”
I turned to Mrs. Ellis. “Dorothy Ingram had opportunity – she knew Mrs. Winstone was going to the market, which gave her enough time to drive over there and hide in the garden. She owns a grey caranduses a walking stick that might’ve been the weapon.Andshe had motive – she wanted to end the Banned Book Club. I think she’s responsible not just for Brenda’s attack, but for the other murders.”
Mrs. Ellis gasped. “Surely that’s not reason enough to murder poor Gladys and Ginny and nearly kill Ginny’s baby, too!”
“If I’ve learned one thing from the hundreds of murder mysteries I’ve read over the years, it’s that people have all sorts of motives that can’t be explained. Both Mrs. Scarlett and Ginny Button incurred Dorothy’s wrath for their so-called sinful behavior. Gladys for starting the book club, and Ginny for having a baby out of wedlock, and I also believe she was blackmailing Dorothy Ingram.” I patted Mrs. Winstone’s arm. “Andyouwere trying to corrupt the minds of innocent children through un-sanctioned books. It all fits. We have to go to the police.”
“I already told them everything I just told you,” Mrs. Winstone said. “Even with that note in her hands and the missing necklace, they think poor Ginny’s death was just an accident. Hayes said one of the mourners pocketed the diamonds during the kerfuffle, and he thinks I was hit over the head by some young hoodlum trying to snatch my purse. But when I came to my purse was on the ground next to me!”
“What can we do if the police refuse to listen!” Mrs. Ellis cried.
“We need to find some more compelling evidence. If it’s okay with you, Brenda, I’d like to take a look around your garden.”
“Of course.” Brenda’s fingers closed around mine. “If Dorothy is behind this, I want to see her in jail for what she nearly did to poor Ginny’s baby. To hurt a child is the most horrible thing. We are so blessed the child survived.”
