But Mrs. Ellis wasn’t listening. She’d launched into a long story about how I’d solved the mysterious death of her friend Gladys Scarlett. Cynthia interrupted to gush about how I’d caught Christina Hathaway at her Jane Austen weekend, and soon everyone at the table was telling stories about the recent murders in Argleton. Heathcliff chuckled into his beer as I slunk further into my seat.How can I get them to stop? What I need is a distraction—
THUD.
That’ll do it.
The pub door swung open, slamming into the wall behind and blowing in a gust of wind and a whiff of impatience as Inspector Hayes and DS Wilson stalked across the room. They marched straight up to my table and flanked Beverly.
“Beverly Ingram, if you could step outside, please.”
“Why?” Beverly demanded in that haughty tone of hers.
“We need to speak with you.”
“Whatever you have to say, you can say right here.” Beverly sipped her strawberry mojito and stared defiantly at Hayes. “I’ve got no secrets.”
“Please step outside.” Hayes’ face looked pained. “I don’t want to have to do this in front of everyone.”
Beverly folded her arms across her chest. “I ain’t going anywhere.”
Hayes sighed, then nodded to Wilson. She held up a pair of handcuffs. “Have it your way. Beverly Ingram, you’re under arrest for the murder of Danny Sledge.”
Chapter Fourteen
"Ijust want to see how she's doing," I insisted. "She doesn't have any other family."
The police officer didn't look convinced. I could tell from the way his eyes narrowed that he remembered me from the time I escaped from the cells. Hayes hadn't got me in further trouble because I solved Ashley's murder, but I did totally break out of jail on this guy’s shift and that was probably the kind of thing an officer of the law held against you.
"Hey, mate," Heathcliff pointed to the calendar on the wall behind him. "Is that the latest Bentley Mulsanne?”
“It is!” The officer’s face lit up. He waved me through, suddenly engrossed in a gearhead conversation with Heathcliff. I fled down the stairs to the cells before he could change his mind.
Past a cell holding a snoring drunk, I found Beverly. She sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling. I cleared my throat. She didn't turn around.
"What do you want?" she demanded, still focused on the ceiling.
"My name is Mina. We met at the pub the other day.”
“I remember. I’m not stupid. What do you want?”
“I don't believe you killed Danny Sledge," I said.
"Why not? Everyone else does."
"Because it doesn't make sense to me. You were angry at him, so you came to his reading and yelled. Why do that if you were going to kill him? And why do it with your own scarf? It would only throw suspicion on you, and I don’t think you’re that stupid.”
“So what?” Beverly snapped.
“I think someone is trying to divert attention to you. Which means that the real killer is still out there. I want to stop him before he kills anyone else. And I want you to help me."
“Even if I believed Mabel and the other ladies that you have some talent for solving murders, I can’t bloody do anything from in here.”
“No, but you can tell me about your movements after the event and on the morning Danny was killed, and about your daughter’s death, and I’ll try and piece together what happened.” The woman’s shoulders stiffened. “I’m sorry. I know it must be painful to think about Abigail, but… I think maybe your daughter’s murderer is the same person who killed Danny. If we could stop another innocent person getting killed—”
“Danny wasn’t innocent.” Beverley turned toward me. In the dark, I couldn’t make out her face, but there was a strength in her voice that hadn’t been there before. "I know I didn’t kill him, though. Fat chance of trying to explain it to them coppers. Why do you care? Why are you trying to help me?”
"Because I don't like seeing people go to jail for something they didn't do." I sucked in a breath. Beverly struck me as the kind of woman who needed the whole truth. I bet she’d sense insincerity a mile off. "And… because I've worked really hard to improve things at the bookshop. After this murder, no one will set foot inside. We’re going bankrupt. If I can figure out who really did it, then customers will start coming back."
“So your interest in me is purely mercantile?” she scowled.
