Page 36 of Murder on Charity Lane

“Minutes! What an odd term.” She peered at me. “Do you have your computer?”

I didn’t, so I ran home. By the time I returned with my laptop, everyone was settled in a half circle with plates on their laps, as Mrs. B presided from her place of honor in Hamilton’s gaming chair. She wore a full-sleeve black caftan embroidered with off-white thread. Classy of her to put on mourning clothes as we discussed the recent death.

She banged her gavel on the chair’s plastic armrest and announced, “The Marigold Cottages Murder Collective is now in session! So. I’ve spoken, despite all of you turncoats and backbiters, to my friend CJ who told me—”

“She doesn’t want to talk about this,” Ocean interrupted.

“Yes! That’s exactly what she told me.”

Ocean pinched the bridge of her nose. “Naturally, you backed off immediately.”

“She also told me she is suspected of pushing her boss down the stairs. Which is seven flavors of nonsense. Still, she’s terrified they’re going to arrest her, so she asked me to look into the case and—”

“Except she didn’t ask, did she?” Ocean said.

“Not in so many words. However, in order to compensate for not being entirely honest about the previous murders, we should—”

“Don’t even think that,” Nicholas snapped.

“Especially not aloud,” Hamilton added, while Lily-Ann said, “Mrs. B! We don’t discuss that case.”

Mrs. B blinked. “Oh, yes. Right. Sorry.”

I didn’t transcribe any of that, naturally, though I was a little relieved that I wasn’t the only person still affected by the murders earlier in the year. Or by how we’d hidden the truth.

“That—not said—does anyone have any questions?” Mrs. B continued.

“What’s CJ’s last name?” Ocean asked.

Mrs. B glared at her. “I’m sorry?”

“Her surname. The surname of this close friend of yours.”

“I don’t know, Ocean. And you know I don’t know.”

“Yet you’re nibbing in—”

“However, I know that you know her surname, which is just as good as me knowing it.”

“Uninvited,” Ocean finished.

“Because that poor detective has another innocent person in his sights…”

I took a breath to remind her that the “poor detective” had, in fact, had guilty people in his sights, too. But I decided not to mention that.

“And CJ helps with my bra straps!”

“And as we all know,” Ocean said, “in the People v. Maidenform, the courts ruled that as proof of innocence.”

Mrs. B slammed her gavel again. “It’s like you want her to be guilty!”

“Of course, I don’t.”

“Does anyone other than Ocean have questions?”

“What’s sweet in this?” Nicholas asked, dipping his bread in the feta and olives. “It’s so good.”

“Nicholas!” Mrs. B said.