“Everyone has cell phones these days,” Iris said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “This house is under your budget, so there’s plenty of money left over to have this house fixed the way you would like it.”

  “Mr. Crumbles would enjoy the fields,” I said.

  “Who’s Mr. Crumbles?” Iris asked me.

  “Matilda and Eleanor’s cat,” I said.

  “And there’s plenty of room to grow our herbs,” Eleanor said. “In fact, there seem to be plenty of herbs here already. I don’t think we should rule it out.”

  “I don’t like it as much as you two do,” Matilda said, pulling a face of distaste.

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought the sisters were genuine buyers.

  “The next house is on the edge of town,” Iris said. “It was part of the Bed and Breakfast. The land is on two titles. The Bed and Breakfast people are selling their business, so they are selling this parcel of land with the house separately.”

  “How much land is there with this one?” Matilda asked her.

  “An acre with this one,” she said. “There’s a lovely little creek forming the boundary at the back.”

  This house was quite pretty. It was painted white and the gray roof set it off nicely.

  “This house has electricity and internet,” Matilda said, rubbing her hands.

  After we looked around the house, Iris tried the hard sell. “You seem to like this house, ladies?”

  We all nodded and Matilda said, “Oh yes, I really do like this house with the lovely little creek with ducks. In fact, the whole area is lovely.”

  “What would it take for you to make an offer?” Iris said.

  “We just have to decide whether we want to buy that house on the Greek island or live here,” Matilda said. “You see, we wanted to live in the apartment a few more months, but now we have to move out in a hurry and we don’t want to go back to Greece quite yet, do we, Eleanor?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “Oh, no, no, no. Not yet.”

  “Quite so.” Matilda nodded at me. “And as our friend Jane here doesn’t want to move to Greece with us at this point, it has really pushed our hand in thinking we should buy a house here instead of buying a house in Greece.”

  My head was reeling from the convoluted explanation, but Iris appeared to be hanging on every word.

  Matilda pushed on. “We feel we have to move out of the apartment in a hurry, because it’s above a cupcake store and a man died in there recently.”

  A glimmer flickered of what I took for recognition flashed across Iris’s face.

  “It was awful,” I said. “The poor man collapsed in the store, and he died just after the paramedics took him away.”

  “Jane was there at the time,” Matilda said. “Weren’t you, Jane?”

  “Yes I was, and it was awful,” I said honestly.

  “So you can see, we don’t want to stay in an apartment where a man has died,” Matilda said. “It’s most distressing.”

  Apparently we had Iris’s interest. “Was it a heart attack?” she asked.

  “Oh no. Awful business. He was murdered.”

  She looked at me and her mouth fell open. “Murdered?”

  “Poisoned,” I said.

  “Yes, awful business,” Matilda repeated. “Even more reason why we want to leave the apartment and find somewhere as soon as possible. This house seems to be ideal. We would be hard pressed to find a better one. What do you think, Eleanor?”

  “Quite so, quite so.”

  I wondered if Eleanor had been ordered to agree with everything Matilda said because she certainly wasn’t offering much.

  Matilda retrieved her phone from her purse, flipped through it and then held it in front of Iris. “That’s where we were thinking of settling down on that Greek island,” she said. “It’s one of our favorite places in the world.” After she held the phone under Iris’s nose for a few moments she showed it to me. Matilda and Eleanor were on a beach. The water was deep blue. The photo had surely been taken in Greece.

  “It’s beautiful,” Iris said. To me, she said, “It must have been awful for you, finding a body.”

  “I’m afraid to say the poor man was alive at the time. He collapsed right in front of me,” I said. I could see Iris wanted to ask more, so I added, “I thought he was having a heart attack, but I couldn’t find any medication on him. The paramedics came quite quickly.”

  “Yes, the police questioned us all,” Matilda said, “but then they found out the poison was administered to him fifteen minutes before he entered the store. By the way, the store is owned by Jane’s sister.”

  “But isn’t she Amish?” Iris said, and then looked discomforted.

  “How did you know that?” I asked her.

  Iris hesitated for a moment before answering. “Oh, it’s all over town that the wealthy businessman Colin Greaves died in a cupcake store owned by an Amish woman.”

  I wondered how she had found out. As far as I knew, it had not been on the news, but maybe the police had told her when they were questioning her, although why they would tell her Rebecca was Amish, I had no idea. After a moment or two, I realized that the detectives had probably told her the name of the cupcake store and she might have driven past and looked in, or even googled it.

  “I suppose a very wealthy man like that would have a lot of enemies,” I said. “The police said he was administered the poison at least fifteen minutes before he entered the store. There must have been someone in the car with him.”

  “It was probably his wife,” Iris spat.

  “What makes you think that?” Matilda asked her.

  “Isn’t it always the wife?” Iris asked.

  Matilda shrugged. “As Jane said, a wealthy man would have a lot of enemies.”

  “He was trying to buy the building from my sister,” I told Iris. “He was going to do a big development. Maybe he had partners in the development and they wanted him out of the way for some reason.”

  Iris shook her head. “If you ask me, it was his wife.” Her eyes glistened with malice. She abruptly changed the subject. “Well, enough of this sad talk. Let’s move onto the next house. I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s a fixer upper to be sure, but it’s a good price and you’ll have plenty of money left in the budget to do all the repairs.”

  “What exactly is wrong with it?” Matilda asked her.

  “Nothing too serious,” Iris said hesitantly. “It will be good after the bathrooms are replaced and maybe even the kitchen. And the roof leaks, but that will soon be fixed when the roof is replaced. It can be done well within your budget. You will have money left over.”

  As Iris drove us to the next house, I thought things over. She had a genuine dislike of Stephanie Greaves, but that was to be understood. I didn’t get the feeling that she had murdered Greaves, as her venom had seemed directed at his wife rather than at him, but then again who would know? I was certainly no expert on these matters. I was anxious to hear Matilda’s opinion.

  Chapter 16

  Since I had returned home and was living in my sister, Rebecca’s apartment, I had attended a small church not far from the apartment. It wasn’t such a warm and welcoming church, but I enjoyed the sermons. I tended to keep to myself anyway as I didn’t want to answer the inevitable questions and end up telling everyone that my husband had run off with a younger woman, had a baby, and divorced me.

  I had intended to look around for another church, but I was comfortable enough where I was, so it hadn’t really mattered. The church I was sitting in now was huge and opulent, more like a cathedral than a church. At least it was so big that Eleanor, Matilda, and I wouldn’t be noticed. Members of the press were in attendance as was a television crew, and I had caught sight of Detective McCloud and Detective Stirling from a distance.

  Matilda leaned over to me and whispered, “Detectives always attend a funeral because the murderers always attend.”

  “Why do the murderers attend?” I asked, puzzled. “Isn’t it a bit of a dead giveaway if they do, no pun intended?”

  Matilda chuckled. “I’m not a psychologist. I’m just an amateur sleuth. I don’t know why they attend, but they do. It’s a well-known fact.”

  I frowned. “Well that may be so, but it’s a little unsettling to think we might be in the same church as the murderer.”

  “Or murderers,” Matilda said. “Maybe two people were in it together. I keep saying this, but no one seems to be listening.”

  I looked down at the funeral program. “This is quite ornate especially since it was done in such a hurry.”

  “Clearly, money has been spent,” Matilda said. “Obviously Stephanie did it to cover her tracks.”

  Once more I was puzzled. “Why would she do that?”

  “Well, if she gave the vic a generic funeral and kept the cost low, that would make the police suspicious.”

  “I suppose so.” By now I had learned it was better for me to agree with Matilda. It was easier that way. “There are so many people here, Matilda. What do you think we can gain from attending?”

  Matilda shrugged. “I have no idea, but the police wouldn’t be here if they thought there was nothing to gain, would they?”

  I had to admit she was right. “That makes sense, I suppose. Still, I don’t know what we can find out. The murderer is hardly likely to jump to his or her feet and confess. I would think the murderer would be on their very best behavior and try to keep a low profile.”

  Matilda tapped her chin. “Perhaps, but you can never really be sure, can you?” With that she elbowed me in the ribs. “Shush, it’s about to begin.”

  I looked over at her and Eleanor. They were both staring at the minister. Eleanor was now wearing bright pink rollers that matched her bright pink dress. I was still wondering why she never took them out, and now they were even color-coordinated.

  The minister signaled to the choir and everyone sang the first hymn, Amazing Grace.

  I cried, as I always did when I heard Amazing Grace. I saw Matilda and Eleanor looking at me with puzzlement. When the hymn ended, everyone sat down. The minister then read Psalm 25.

  When the minister came to an end, he nodded to someone on the front row. It was too far away for me to see, but a young man stood up and walked to the pulpit.

  It was Brooks.

  Matilda leaned over. “He’s in it with his mother for sure,” she hissed. “The two of them stand to inherit.”

  “His own father?” I whispered back. “Why?”

  “I just told you! To get the money, of course.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I know that,” I said slowly, “but he couldn’t have had a good relationship with his father, could he? I mean if he was going to murder him. They must’ve been at loggerheads.”

  “I don’t know. He might have been a spoiled rich kid and his father didn’t give him everything he wanted,” Matilda said. “And today he’s wearing all black to match his mother.”

  “It is a funeral,” I pointed out. “Most people here are wearing black, all except for that lady down there near the front.”

  Matilda half rose before sitting back down abruptly. “Isn’t that Iris Ogilvie?”

  I craned my neck. “It’s hard to tell from behind, but it could be. She is wearing rainbow colors. Would that be her husband Richard next to her?”

  “How could I possibly know that from here?” Matilda said. “I’ll have to find out afterwards. And why on earth is the vic’s mistress going to his funeral?”

  “Perhaps she was in love with him,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but she would want to keep a low profile, wouldn’t she? And Stephanie already knows about her. This could get interesting.”

  “But she doesn’t know that Stephanie knows,” I said. “But you’re right—what excuse would Iris give her husband to get him to attend the funeral? She can hardly tell her husband that her lover was murdered and so she would like to attend his funeral.”

  Eleanor leaned across Matilda and said in low tones, “Obviously either Richard or Iris Ogilvie or maybe both knew the vic in another capacity—I mean a capacity other than Iris being his mistress.”

  It all made sense. “True. He might be a business partner or something,” I offered.

  I looked up and noticed Brooks had already finished speaking. I wished I had listened to what he had said because it might have given me an inkling as to his relationship with his father. Then again, he would hardly be likely to tell it like it was. He would of course avoid all his father’s bad points and present him in a favorable light.

  Stephanie was the next to stand to speak. She spoke in icy cold tones about what a wonderful person her husband was.

  “She’s not coming across as believable at all,” Matilda said.

  The woman in front turned around and looked at Matilda. I thought she was going to berate her, but she smiled and nodded before turning back. It seemed we were not the only ones to have that opinion.

  “We’ll have to speak with Iris later,” Matilda continued.

  “Won’t she be embarrassed that she hadn’t told us that she knew Colin Greaves?” I asked her.

  “That’s her problem,” Matilda retorted. “If it puts her on the spot, then all the better. I also think we need to keep an eye on the people the police are watching.”

  “Maybe they’re keeping an eye on me,” I said. My spirits sank.

  “I noticed Detective McCloud looking over at you,” Eleanor said. “He was certainly watching you.”

  “Maybe he has a crush on Jane,” Matilda said. “I’ve been watching both detectives and Stirling hasn’t looked this way once.”

  Thankfully, another hymn saved me from the awkward response that was running through my mind.

  Stephanie had finished speaking. She dabbed at eyes in a perfunctory fashion with a tissue and then sat down. I would have thought a murderer would put a little more effort into pretending to be upset. I looked with great interest for other people to speak about Greaves.

  Five more people spoke, all men, and all had been business partners of Greaves. They painted him in a wonderful light saying he was a man who would do anything for a friend. I really doubted it was true.

  After a final hymn, the minister thanked everyone for coming and said refreshments would be served in a side room. He nodded to his left.

  “This will give us a better opportunity to grill the suspects,” Matilda said. She jumped to her feet in a quick and nimble manner and was halfway to the door before I had even stood up. I wondered where she got all her energy. I wasn’t much more than half her age and I was already tired solely from being a suspect. The stress was exhausting.

  Eleanor and I walked into the room and I spotted Matilda standing near a large urn. “Coffee, I hope,” Eleanor said.

  We hurried over to Matilda. She had already poured three cups of coffee. It smelled horribly bitter, so I spooned in some extra sugar. I took a sip. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. In fact, it tasted bearable, if not nice. I was about to comment on that fact when Eleanor waved in an animated fashion. “Iris! Iris!” she called to her across the room.

  Iris Ogilvie hurried over to us. “You didn’t tell us you knew the victim,” Matilda said with a wide smile. She had managed to keep any note of accusation from her tone.

  “My husband knows him. I don’t know him at all,” Iris said in what was clearly a blatant lie. I knew she knew him and only too well.

  I spoke up. “Oh, was your husband a business partner of Mr. Greaves?”

  Iris shook her head. “No, Richard owns a law firm. Mr. Greaves was a client of my husband’s.”

  “Oh, a lawyer. I see,” I said.

  Perhaps Iris thought she had been protesting too much because she added, “Ah, well, I had met Mr. Greaves once or twice when he had dinner with my husband.”

  “Oh, and his wife?” I said. It was my not-so-subtle way of finding out whether she had met Stephanie. Stephanie had given no inkling that she knew Iris in person.

  “No, not Stephanie,” Iris said. “Richard and I used to live in New York, and we had dinner with Mr. Greaves once or twice when he was visiting New York.”

  So that’s how they met, I thought. And Stephanie hadn’t met Iris. That makes sense.

  I looked up to see Detective McCloud looking at me. As soon as I caught his eye, he looked away. Does he really suspect me? I wondered. Now he’s watching me speak with Iris. What if he thinks Iris and I were in it together?

  I also wondered why Iris hadn’t mentioned to us the previous day that she knew Colin Greaves. Maybe it was entirely innocent, after all. Why should she tell a bunch of strangers any details of her personal life?

  I wondered how I could investigate Richard Ogilvie. I certainly didn’t have enough money to go to his office and pretend to be a client to fish for information. We had already spoken with Stephanie and Iris. Now we need to speak with Iris’s husband, Richard. But how? I simply couldn’t think of a single ploy. Maybe Matilda would come up with something.

  Iris was chatting to Matilda when I took my leave and went in search of cookies. I looked around at what was on offer. It brought me back to my time in the Amish, when we had a lovely time of fellowship after the church services, or meetings as the Amish in my community called them. They happened every other Sunday and afterwards everyone had a lot to eat, the men and the women and the children all eating separately.

  My favorite food then had been what the Amish called church spread, a mixture of peanut butter, marshmallows, maple syrup, butter, and corn syrup. Although it had been my favorite, I hadn’t eaten it once in all those years since I had left the Amish.

  “Miss Delight.”

  I nearly dropped my cookie, and spun around. It was Detective McCloud. “What are you doing here?” he said.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” It was a silly thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to my head.

  He looked as though he was trying to suppress a smile. “I’m a detective and we always attend the funerals of victims,” he said.