“Agreed. And did you see all that chemistry equipment next to the soap-making molds? Miss Blume has the tools and the skills to isolate arsenic. I think she gave Mrs. Scarlett some of her tea laced with arsenic. And the walking sticks…”
“The evidence is certainly pointing toward one person.Andwe have a motive for the first old lady’s murder. If Mrs. Scarlett managed to sway the committee against the development, none of the cottage owners would get their payout.” Morrie shuddered as he wiped at a wet stain on his shoulder. “With all this damp and misery, having the money to buy a warm, dry, home would be worth killing for.”
“Quick, she’s coming back!” We straightened up just as Sylvia arrived, laden down with tote bags.
“Shall we be on our way?” she grinned. “Thank you again for helping me and checking for the murderer. Last night was fun, but I’mdyingto get back to work.”
Chapter Thirty
“You’ve just outlined a Machiavellian plot worthy of an Agatha Christie novel,” Heathcliff muttered as I filled him in on what we discovered at Sylvia’s cottage.
“I know that, but it happens to betrue. I’m telling you that we’ve found the murderer. We have to go to the police before Sylvia kills Mrs. Ellis, too!”
“But what evidence do you have apart from a wooden walking stick that anyone could have purchased from her shop?” Heathcliff demanded. “It’s not even the same poison she used on her husband, if that eveniswhat happened.”
“It shows she has a knowledge of different poison types! And Morrie searched the geotechnical reports conducted in King’s Copse and they show arsenic deposits in the soil and ore leftover from the old mines.”
“But it doesn’t explain the other two murders, or the assault. Even if she did kill the old bint and the posh bitch who was blackmailing her, why attack that third woman?”
I had to admit I was in the dark about that, too, but I was sure we’d find a connection if we looked deep enough. “You’re supposed to be the brooding, passionate bad boy. Since when were you such a slave toevidence?”
“Since the police insisted you stop meddling in their cases, else you’re liable to end up in custody again,” Heathcliff shot back.
“Well, if you’re so clever, who do you think killed Mrs. Scarlett and Ginny Button and attacked Mrs. Winstone—”
“Wait, hold on!” Morrie rubbed his chin. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong.”
I twisted around. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s just occurred to me – although it should have occurred to me sooner, which is a concern – that we’ve got three different crimes, yes? A malicious poisoning, a shove down some stairs with a stolen necklace, and a brutal beating with a wooden walking stick. What does this tell you?”
“That the killer has a thing about the Banned Book Club?”
“No! Think about it. Why go to all the trouble of slowly poisoning Mrs. Scarlett in a way that all but ensures you’d never get caught, if you then just shove Ginny Button down the stairs, nick her jewels, and beat up Mrs. Winstone with a walking stick in broad daylight?”
Morrie’s protests dawned on me. “You think we’re dealing with different murderers.”
“I do.” Morrie grabbed his phone and started doodling on a notes app with his finger. “Ginny’s death and the attempted murder of Mrs. Winstone – if it evenwasattempted murder – are the acts of desperate people. Mrs. Scarlett’s death was clever and insidious because of the amount of planning involved. Which means we’re either dealing with two different killers, or your suspect’s situation is becoming precarious.”
“We need to figure out if Mrs. Winstone—” My phone buzzed. I pressed it to my ear.
“Wonderful news,” Mrs. Ellis chirped on the other end. “Brenda’s been released from the hospital. I’m helping her with the paperwork now, and then I’ll take her back to her house and get her settled. She’s still in a lot of pain, but the doctors said she can recover at home.”
“What about her husband, Harold? Wouldn’t he want to take her home himself?”
There was a pause on the other end before Mrs. Ellis said, “Dear Harold is still out of town on business. Will you come, Mina? Your beautiful friend came with us, but he seems to have disappeared somewhere. I hate to think of who might be waiting for us at Brenda’s home.”
“Of course we’ll come.” I hung up the phone and filled in Heathcliff and Morrie on what Mrs. Ellis had said. “Quoth must’ve had trouble holding his human form. I’m going to go round to the Winstones to check out the house. Maybe Brenda could tell us why Sylvia would want to kill her.”
“I’m coming with you.” Morrie grabbed for his jacket.
“No need. Quoth will follow the ladies in his bird form, so I’ll be protected. I need you to go to Sylvia Blume’s shop and make sure she doesn’t leave. And if my mother’s there, don’t let her eat or drink anything Sylvia offers.”
“What about me?” Heathcliff barked.
“Stay here. Mind the shop and be your usual charming self. I’ll call you if I need you.”
I bolted from the shop and across the green, panting as I reached Mrs. Winstone’s house. There was no car in the driveway, but I assumed they’d taken a ride share. Mrs. Ellis didn’t have a license because she loved to flirt with the drivers. As I’d predicted, Quoth perched on a branch above the door. His gaze flicking from the front window to survey the street. I waved at him, and he nodded at me.
