Morrie will be able to translate this when he gets home. I dug my phone from my pocket and snapped a couple of pictures, texting them to him. I waited a few moments, but he didn’t reply. He must really have been busy in a business meeting.
“Mina!” Heathcliff bellowed from downstairs.
I perked up. There could be only one reason Heathcliff was yelling for me. Customers. Finally, we could make a sale, provided Heathcliff hadn’t already scared them off.
I slammed the book shut and carried Grimalkin out into the Occult room, locking the door behind me. I took the stairs two at a time and practically vaulted over the balustrade in my eagerness to reach the main room. When I stepped inside, panting to catch my breath, I found the place empty, save Heathcliff and a stuffed armadillo and a thick layer of dust.
“Where are the customers?” I glanced around.
“There are no customers.” Heathcliff swung his coat off the back of the chair. “I thought I might take you to lunch.”
“You did?” Heathcliff hated going outside, and we’d already been outside once this week.
“It might do you good to get out of the shop.” Heathcliff held out his arm. “But don’t be getting any fancy ideas. I’m not Morrie. We’re going to the pub. There’s a two-for-one roast beef special.”
“Sounds perfect.” I accepted his arm like he was a grand gentleman. Heathcliff called up the stairs for Quoth to mind the shop, not even waiting for an answer. We hiked across the green toward the pub. To my delight, Mrs. Ellis was at the bar when we walked in, dressed in a ridiculous sundress and trying to convince Richard the landlord to make her some exotic cocktail.
"I thought you were leaving on your trip today?" I asked her.
"I've got an hour before the taxi picks me up to take me to the airport." Mrs. Ellis patted the enormous suitcase beside her. "I thought I'd get myself in the holiday mood. Strawberry mojito?"
"Please." Richard shot me a pained expression as he blew the dust off a laminated poster that displayed various cocktail recipes. The Rose & Wimple was definitely not a cocktail bar.
Heathcliff looked at the pink drink like the little decorative umbrella was a weapon of mass destruction. “Scotch for me,” he growled.
Once we all had something alcoholic in our hands, Mrs. Ellis bustled us to a table in the corner. So much for a quiet lunch with Heathcliff. Several members of her knitting group were crowded around, all enjoying mojitos. At the table next to them, Cynthia and Grey Lachlan tucked into a ploughman’s lunch. I stiffened at their presence, hoping they wouldn’t notice me or Heathcliff.
As soon as Mrs. Ellis’ friends recognized us, Ethel leaned forward, desperate for more gossip. "Mina, Heathcliff, how are you holding up? You poor dears. Have the police got any suspects for Danny’s murder yet?"
"I don't know," I said. "They haven't been keeping me in the loop."
"Why ever not? You solved dear Mrs. Scarlett's murder! And that poor Greer girl.”
"Andshe figured out who stabbed Professor Hathaway at my Jane Austen event," Cynthia piped up, gesticulating with such fervor that she sloshed wine over the table. “If anything, they should be coming to you for advice!”
“Careful, dear.” Grey set her wine glass back down on the table. “Yes, Mina, we’ve all heard about your sleuthing powers. It’s unfortunate that you seem cursed to stumble over murders at every turn. Your shop seems empty today. Is the murder of a famous local writer bad for business?”
“Things are quiet, but we’re not worried.” I glared at Grey. He didn’t get to make comments like that, not after he’d wheedled and threatened Heathcliff to try and buy the store from us. “I’m sure the police will solve the crime soon, and we’ll be back on our feet.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Mrs. Ellis tittered. “If only you’d said something sooner, you could have closed for a couple of weeks and come on holiday with me!”
“I don’t think I could keep up with you, Mrs. Ellis.” I smiled, noting the long line of empty mojito glasses on the table in front of her. Over Heathcliff's shoulder, I noticed Beverly Ingram walk in and slouch into the bar, her head down, hands in her pockets. Today she wore a ghastly mustard-orange jacket over florescent green trousers and a brown paisley scarf.Does she dress blindfolded or something?
Mrs. Ellis followed my gaze. Her face softened when she saw Beverly. “Poor thing. She’s not coping well. It was the anniversary of her daughter’s death last week, which explains why Dotty saw her break down in the supermarket. What unfortunate timing for your event with Danny! And now he’s been murdered in the same gruesome way. If anyone could do with cheering up, it’s her. Beverly, over here!”
Before I or anyone else could protest, Mrs. Ellis was on her feet, waving at Beverly to join us. The woman scowled, pulling her coat tighter around her face. But Mrs. Ellis was a force to be reckoned with. She grabbed the woman and practically threw her into the chair opposite me. “Richard, another round of strawberry mojitos for us all!”
“Hi, Beverly,” I smiled at her. “We didn’t get to meet the other night. I’m Mina. I work at the bookshop. I’m so sorry to hear about your daughter. If I’d known it was the anniversary of her death, I would’ve postponed the event—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly’s cheeks reddened. "I made an awful fuss and embarrassed myself. It wasn’tyourfault. I didn’t mean to ruin your event. I just…”
“I understand. You don’t have to apologize—”
"I'm not sorry he's dead," she growled, her soft voice suddenly replaced with fierce venom. “The way he wrote that book, it wasexactlythe details of Abigail’s murder. Who does that? It’s disgusting. And it makes me wonder. The police said Danny couldn’t possibly have been there that night, but maybe he had them all fooled.”
Mrs. Ellis leaned forward and tapped me on the shoulder. “You know, Mina here has solved all kinds of murders. She’s much cleverer than the police. I bet she could figure out who killed poor Abigail.”
Beverly’s cheeks reddened. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary—”
