“Yes, I expect the detective was just trying to snoop around,” Rebecca said.

  I was exasperated. “But what could he hope to find? And did he know you were not me?”

  Of course, the two of us had swapped clothes.

  Rebecca chuckled. “I’m glad the bishop didn’t catch me! I haven’t worn English clothes since I was on rumspringa all those years ago. No, I don’t think he asked me where I was. I mean where you were—you know what I mean. I said you were out. I didn’t elaborate and he didn’t push it.”

  “But what could they possibly hope to find by snooping?” Eleanor asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. It makes me quite uneasy, to be honest. Detective McCloud was at Stephanie’s house today so maybe they do in fact suspect her.”

  “But Stephanie has an ironclad alibi,” Matilda offered. She tapped her chin. “If you ask me, Stephanie and Brooks have given each other an alibi. They would do that if they were in it together. And if Brooks did it, then Stephanie would give him an alibi. If Stephanie did it, then Brooks would give her in alibi.”

  “We do have the other suspects though,” I pointed out, “and Stephanie said she had given the private detective’s files to the police and said they know all about Greaves’s mistress, Iris, and her husband Richard Ogilvie.”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “The mistress?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know, I’m surprised Detective McCloud didn’t give us a lecture today about not investigating the case,” Matilda said. “Maybe he really did believe our story.”

  Rebecca put her hands over her ears. “Don’t tell me any more. It’s best if I don’t know. But I really don’t think we should trade places again, Jane.”

  “Sure,” I said. I couldn’t think of a reason why I would need to, at least not in the near future.

  “What do we do next?” Matilda said.

  “My next move is going home and seeing to dinner,” Rebecca said. “Good night everyone. I’ll be on my way.”

  “I’ll walk you to your buggy,” I said. I had told Rebecca about the person following me, but she didn’t seem to be alarmed. “It’s all in God’s hands,” she had said.

  I walked Rebecca to the buggy and watched her horse trot away. Suddenly, I realized that I was now alone. Fear gripped me. How could I have been so stupid? Detective McCloud had told me not to go out alone. Sure, it was broad daylight, but there were not many people around. I walked as fast as I could back to the apartment, shut the door, and then leaned back against it. I let out a long sigh of relief before hurrying up the stairs.

  Matilda and Eleanor were bickering when I entered the room. “Something occurred to me,” I said.

  They both looked at me. “What is it?” they asked in unison.

  “I’m wondering how someone got a fatal amount into Colin Greaves and I’m also wondering when someone got a fatal dose into him. As far as we know, he drove here alone, but we can’t be certain. If someone gave him the fatal dose then they had to have given it to him in the car.”

  “How do you figure that?” Matilda asked me.

  “Because William Willow said Greaves was in there less than five minutes. He was in Rebecca’s store for about five minutes. It wouldn’t take him long to get from the health food store to Rebecca’s store. As the fatal dose was administered at least fifteen minutes before he collapsed, it means someone gave it to him before he went into the health food store.”

  “It had to be someone in the car with him,” Eleanor said, standing up abruptly and startling Mr. Crumbles. She immediately jumped down and scooped the cat into her arms, all the while making cooing sounds to him.

  I looked at the little cat. “You know, he looks as though he’s doubled in weight already in such a short time.”

  Matilda clapped her hands. “Attention please! Don’t get sidetracked, Jane. I think you’re onto something. Greaves didn’t have a driver, did he?”

  “No, because he was parked directly outside the shop and the police impounded his car.”

  Matilda nodded slowly. “That sounds more and more as though there was someone in the car with him and they made themselves scarce. Yes, it’s likely that the murderer was in the car with him.”

  “Still, it could have been anyone,” I said, “and we don’t know everyone’s alibis. So someone was in the car with him, gave him a fatal dose of poison, and then left in a hurry.”

  “Perhaps they gave it to him in coffee or maybe a cake,” Eleanor said absently.

  “He certainly had a sweet tooth,” I told her. “I don’t think he would have refused a nice cupcake. He seemed to have a voracious appetite and sometimes when he came into the store, he ate several sample cupcakes at once. It always annoyed me, but Rebecca never seemed to mind.”

  “That’s because she’s Amish,” Eleanor said. “The Amish don’t seem to mind anything. You must have been a nice person when you were young and Amish, Jane.”

  I was struck speechless, but Eleanor giggled. “Of course you’re a nice person now. I didn’t mean it how it came out. I just meant you must have been a tolerant person when you were Amish.” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “I’d stop talking if I were you,” Matilda said. “Jane, what is our next move?”

  “Ice cream,” I said. “I think much better when I’ve had ice cream.” I walked over to the refrigerator and took out a tub of salted caramel. “Would anyone else like some?”

  “Yes, please,” they both said.

  Soon we were sitting around eating ice cream. “The next person we should look at is the mistress,” I said, “although the police do have the file on her so if she was suspicious, surely they’d know.”

  Eleanor waved her finger at me. “If the police knew who did it, they wouldn’t have spoken to Rebecca today. No, you’re not off the hook yet, Jane. Don’t let your guard down. We need to investigate his mistress.”

  “But how can we possibly do that?” I asked her. “I can hardly dress in Amish clothes again—you heard Rebecca—and pretend I’m going to pray for her because her lover was murdered.”

  Both Matilda and Eleanor chuckled. “No, you can’t do that,” Matilda agreed.

  “Then how can we investigate her?” I said. “You know, I’m completely at a loss with this one. We need to find out her alibi for the time of the murder. Even if I could speak to her, why would she tell me anything?”

  Eleanor set down her spoon. “I know. Why don’t you pretend you’re a reporter?”

  “She wouldn’t want to be interviewed by a reporter,” I said. “I’m sure her husband doesn’t know she was having an affair with Colin Greaves, so she’s not going to want to speak to a reporter.”

  “Oh yes.” Eleanor looked crestfallen.

  “It was a good idea nonetheless,” I said in an encouraging tone. “Let’s all come up with ideas even if they don’t work out. It’s better than sitting around not having any ideas at all.”

  “We should find out what she does for a living,” Eleanor said. “Maybe that will help.”

  “How will it help?” Matilda asked her, sounding quite grumpy.

  “Perhaps Iris is a hairstylist. If so, one of us could make an appointment with her. Or maybe she is a dentist and one of us could make an appointment with her.”

  I held up one hand, palm outward. “No, not me. You’re on your own with that one.”

  Matilda had a faraway look in her eyes. “Or maybe she’s an interior designer, and we could ask her to design the apartment, or maybe she’s a realtor and we could pretend we are looking for a house, or maybe she cleans houses, and we could ask her to clean our apartment, or maybe she grooms pets and we could ask her to shampoo Mr. Crumbles.”

  Mr. Crumbles ran under the couch. “Don’t be so silly, Matilda,” Eleanor said. “You’ve scared Mr. Crumbles.”

  “You’re the one who’s silly, Eleanor,” Matilda retorted. “That cat can’t speak English!”

  “But he can understand it,” Eleanor snapped. “Cats don’t like being bathed,”

  I thought I had better say something in a hurry. “What a good idea,” I said loudly. “We need to find out what she does.”

  “Oh, I’ve had a terrible thought,” Matilda said. “What if she’s not from around these parts? What if she’s from California? Then I’ll have to fly right across the country just to get information from her.”

  “Surely Greaves had the affair with someone closer to home,” I said. “It would be more convenient for him. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I think that he would have a mistress who was close by.”

  “I do hope you’re right,” Matilda said. “We have done so much traveling lately. Now I just want to stay home.”

  Eleanor stood up. “I’ll fetch the laptop.” Soon she was tapping away on the keys. “We’re in luck! There is an Iris Ogilvie who is a realtor in this town. That’s much better than being a dentist!”

  “You’re telling me,” I said in a heartfelt manner. “But is it the right Iris Ogilvie? Is there any way you can find out if her husband ‘s name is Richard?”

  “I should be able to.” Eleanor’s tone was full of confidence. “There’s a big photo of her so I’ll do a reverse image search.” Only a few minutes later, she exclaimed, “Aha! There are a whole lot of photos of her and one is of her with a man. I’m just going to click on it now.”

  “Try not to keep us in so much suspense,” Matilda said dryly.

  “Yes. Her husband is Richard Ogilvie.”

  “Great work, Eleanor,” I said. “I don’t know how you did it! Fantastic. This won’t be as bad as I thought. We can pretend we are looking for an apartment.” I rubbed my hands together with glee. “Yes, this will work. We can casually mention we are looking for another apartment because a man collapsed here and later died.”

  “I have a good feeling about this,” Matilda said.

  “So do I,” I said. “I’m so glad she’s not a dentist. I certainly wouldn’t want to have to make an appointment with a dentist just to question them about a murder suspect.” I shut my eyes, having visions of lying in the dentist chair after asking questions of the dentist and the dentist looming over me with the drill. I shuddered and opened my eyes. “Show me the photo,” I said. “I’m eager to know what she looks like.”

  I hurried over to look at the image of Iris Ogilvie, Greaves’s mistress. “She isn’t what I thought she’d look like, but then again, I didn’t really have someone in mind. Whereas his wife has pale blonde hair and is all dressed in white, Iris is very colorful.” In the photo, Iris was wearing quite garish clothes of every color of the rainbow. Her make-up looked as though it had been slapped on with a trowel. Stephanie looked as if she had swallowed several prunes, but Iris had a smiling, welcoming face.

  “She doesn’t look like a murderer,” I added, “but what does a murderer actually look like?”

  I absently walked to the other side of the room and looked out on the street below. I smiled as Detective McCloud’s car was nowhere in sight. Maybe a small part of me was a little disappointed.

  “I’ll call her first thing in the morning and see if we can make an appointment with her for tomorrow,” Matilda called across the room.

  I made to turn, but as I did so, I noticed a man standing in front of the building opposite. I had not seen him at first because he was wearing dark clothes and was in the shadows. I pulled out my cell phone and called Detective McCloud.

  Chapter 15

  The previous night, Detective McCloud had sent over two uniformed officers. They hadn’t found any one acting suspiciously, but Detective McCloud said the patrol car would scare away the perpetrator. He asked the patrol car to drive past on a regular basis.

  Despite that, I had slept well the previous night, but now was quite anxious as Matilda had made an appointment with Iris Ogilvie. The three of us were going to pretend we were looking to buy a house in the hopes we would uncover something about Iris Ogilvie.

  It was a long shot, but at least it was worth a try.

  Eleanor and Matilda did not at all appear nervous when we met in the living room of the apartment. “You can leave all the talking to me,” Matilda said in strident tones. “I have watched every Miss Marple movie there is. I know how to speak to suspects. I know exactly what to do.”

  Eleanor pulled a face. “How would Miss Marple try to fool a realtor?” she asked. Her expression was so earnest that I wondered if her question was serious.

  “Don’t be so literal, Eleanor,” Matilda said, shooting her an angry look. “I know what to do. You wait and see.”

  I was a little worried, but what did I have to lose? Unless of course, Iris was the murderer and came after us. But even so, I thought that most unlikely.

  Iris had wanted to collect us in her car, no doubt so we would be captive buyers, but Matilda had said we would meet her outside a café and go in her car from there.

  Iris Ogilvie in person was every bit as colorful as her photo, although her smile in the photo had looked genuine. The smile on the woman’s face as she walked toward us appeared to be anything but genuine. In fact, she seemed to have had so much plastic surgery, I wondered if the smile was frozen in place. Her skin was as tight as a drum, not a line in sight, and her lips were full and pouty.

  “Doesn’t she look great!” Eleanor said.

  I nodded politely, wondering why Eleanor still had rollers in her hair. It appeared Iris was thinking the same thing, as she could not take her eyes off Eleanor’s head. Finally she recovered and introduced herself.

  Matilda smiled in response. “Lovely to meet you. I am Matilda Birtwistle. This is my sister, Eleanor Birtwistle, and this is our good friend, Jane Delight.”

  Iris appeared surprised at my name and I’m sure she would have raised her eyebrows had her face had the ability to do so. “That’s an unusual name,” she said.

  I simply offered, “Yes it is.”

  “Now I have some wonderful properties to show you today, but aren’t you looking to downsize?” She looked at Matilda and Eleanor as she said it and they both visibly bristled.

  “Why on earth would we wish to downsize?” Matilda said, clearly irritated.

  The realtor must have been a good enough judge of human nature to realize she had said the wrong thing. “Oh do forgive me, I met upsize, of course,” she said. “So you said the three of you are living in a small apartment now and you wish to move to a house?”

  “It’s a long story,” Matilda said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “My sister and I have travelled extensively and we want to settle down. We haven’t decided precisely where we want to live, but we thought we would rent while we were deciding. Our dear friend here got divorced, and was left penniless, so she moved in with us.”

  I had no idea Matilda was going to say that and I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

  “Oh my goodness! That’s dreadful!” Iris said in what was clearly a genuine tone. “It’s amazing how many women miss out when they get divorced.”

  I thought I might as well play along. After all, I couldn’t be any more embarrassed than I was now. “I’d signed a pre-nup entirely in his favor,” I told her, “but I didn’t ever think we’d divorce. In the back of my mind I thought that even if we did divorce, he’d be fair to me, but he wasn’t.”

  Iris nodded slowly. “You’d be surprised how many women I’ve heard that from.”

  “I don’t believe in divorce,” I added.

  “And yet you’re still divorced,” she said. “It only takes one.”

  I smiled ruefully. “He ran off with a woman a fraction of his age and now they have a baby.”

  “And he broke the news to Jane on her fiftieth birthday,” Matilda added with relish.

  Iris reached forward and patted my arm ever so briefly. “If you marry again, make sure you get a very good lawyer first. That’s my advice.”

  I nodded.

  “Now about your requirements, Miss Birtwistle…”

  “Call me Matilda, please.”

  “Matilda, your requirements for a house are simply three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a safe area for a cat. Is that correct?”

  “And an area for a garden,” Matilda added.

  I wondered why Matilda had given genuine requirements as if she were really looking for a house, but I heard someone say once that good liars are those who stick closest to the truth.

  The first house Iris showed us looked wildly out of budget—not that we had a budget, but if we did, it would not have stretched to this house. I wondered what Matilda told her our budget was. I figured she had named a rather exorbitant price to have Iris more eager to help us.

  Matilda and Eleanor sailed into the living room. “This is a former Amish house,” Iris told us. “It comes with five acres so it has plenty of room for your cat to roam around safely and as you can see, it has an established garden as well as apple trees.”

  “What happened to the previous owners?” I asked her.

  “An elderly gentleman who has gone to stay with his children,” Iris said.

  I nodded. That was the Amish way.

  She opened the door and we walked in. There was no furniture and the place looked plain. It was a typical, simple Amish house.

  “Is there electricity?” I asked her.

  Iris looked put out. “Well no, but it wouldn’t take much to connect. All you have to do is fix a few fences, connect the electricity, and do some things like that. That’s why it’s such a good low price, a true bargain in fact. There is a gas powered washing machine in the basement.”

  Both Eleanor and Matilda pulled a face. “That will be the first thing to go,” Matilda said. “We actually do want a house with electricity. We don’t want to bother ourselves having to worry about things like that.”

  Iris did not appear concerned by the negative remark. “Have a look around, ladies. Discuss it amongst yourselves and then come back here and tell me what you think.” She ushered us up the stairs.

  The house reminded me of my childhood. I wanted to speak with Matilda and Eleanor but I figured our voices would carry. After all, there was no hum of electricity through the house. We carried on through the house and walked back down the stairs. “So no internet and no phone lines,” I said.