To my shock, Eleanor caught it with one hand. Her reflexes sure were good. “I’ll just go and feed Mr. Crumbles,” Eleanor said and disappeared from the room.

  “Would you like me to make you some sweet tea, or maybe some coffee?” I asked Matilda. “And maybe some meadow tea for you, Rebecca?”

  “I’ll have coffee, please,” Matilda said, “and I’m sure Eleanor would like some too when she finishes with Mr. Crumbles. Maybe put some extra sugar in your sister’s meadow tea. She’s gone pale.”

  “I’m all right,” Rebecca protested feebly.

  I walked into the kitchen to make the meadow tea. “What a lovely coffee machine you have,” Eleanor said. “Do you mind if Matilda and I use it as well?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Help yourself to anything of mine,” I said. “It’s awfully good of you to allow me to live here too.”

  “Well, it helps with the rent to be honest,” she said, “even though your sister doesn’t really charge us much. Everything helps. A penny saved is a penny earned, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. It was then I realized she had rollers in her hair. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed before, but I figured it was because the day had been quite a strange one. On a normal day, it would have been the first thing I noticed. “Would you like something for your arm?” I asked her.

  She looked at her arm. “No, I’ve had worse. It’s stopped bleeding now. Poor Mr. Crumbles. No doubt he’s had a hard life living on the streets, but he’s come to a good home.” She narrowed her eyes and shot me a look of suspicion. “You do like cats, don’t you?”

  “I love cats,” I said. “Rebecca and I had cats growing up. My husband was allergic to cats and dogs.” After I said it, I wondered if it was true. In fact, I wondered if anything my ex-husband had told me was true.

  I returned to the living room with two mugs and placed one in front of Rebecca and one in front of Matilda, then went back to the kitchen to fetch my cup and Eleanor’s cup. Eleanor had already picked up Mr. Crumbles who had eaten his food in double quick time. He seemed calmer now and had stopped struggling.

  “I’ve been watering your plants for you while you were away,” I told them. “Rebecca was watering them until I moved in, and then I took over for her.”

  Both ladies thanked me. There was a small courtyard at the back of the building with a high walled fence. In it was a greenhouse filled with all manner of herbs and other plants. I didn’t have much of a green thumb and was surprised they were all still alive, let alone thriving.

  “After Mr. Crumbles settles in, we can let him into the courtyard while I watch him,” Eleanor added. “I don’t think he’ll be able to scale those walls, and he will enjoy being outdoors.”

  The sound of a doorbell caused Rebecca to jump to her feet, nearly knocking over her meadow tea. “That must be the detectives!”

  I hurried after her to the stairs.

  The doorbell rang again twice more by the time Rebecca reached it. She flung open the door.

  Standing outside the door was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Upon reflection, I figured others might not find him handsome, as he had a rather rugged, wearied look about him. Still, there was just something about him that got my heart racing. He was tall and well built, with hair that had been closely cropped and he had the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

  “Mrs. Yoder? He consulted his notebook. “Mrs. Yoder, Mrs. Delight?” he said. His accent was Scottish. Then he bowed deeply.

  Chapter 5

  “Miss,” was the first word out of my mouth. “Not Mrs. I’m divorced.” Why did I say such an obvious thing? I silently scolded myself. And why did he bow?

  I did not have to wait too long to find out.

  Matilda’s voice rang out behind me. “Did you bow? Why did you bow?”

  The slow red blush spread over the detective’s handsome face. “I was bowing to the Amish ladies.”

  Did I hear him correctly? “There is only one Amish lady here,” I told him. “I am not Amish.”

  He looked even more discomfited. “Forgive me. I thought you were an Amish lady too, although not in costume.”

  “Costume?” Rebecca said.

  It was then I noticed the man standing next to him. His hair, what there was of it, was black, and he had the most outrageous combover. He was of indeterminable age, and had a rather stooped posture. His head reached the other detective’s shoulder.

  The handsome detective held up both hands in front of him. “Allow me to start from the beginning. I am Detective Damon McCloud, and I haven’t been in these parts long.”

  “No kidding,” Matilda muttered.

  The other detective murmured something unintelligible, and then grunted, “Detective Carter Stirling.”

  “I am doing my best to be particularly courteous to the Amish people,” Detective McCloud said. “There are no Amish people in Scotland.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “Why did you think I was Amish?”

  The detective did not meet my eyes but consulted his notes. “I had both your names. I was told you were twin sisters, so I assumed you were both Amish.”

  I nodded slowly. “I see.” Maybe I needed to wear more make-up, and think about buying some nicer clothes. I had let myself go ever since my husband had run away with a woman less than half my age. I felt a little guilty for being vain as I had been raised not to be vain, but I had spent most of my life in the non-Amish world where vanity was normal and everyday.

  “And we haven’t been introduced,” Detective Stirling said in a pointed tone to Matilda.

  “I’m Matilda Birtwistle, and my sister Eleanor and I have just arrived back in town after a world cruise. We have an alibi for the murder. You can check our flights, and then we were most likely at the vet not far from here at the precise moment the vic was murdered.”

  “The vic?” I repeated.

  “Yes, the victim,” she explained with a sigh. “The vic. Technical talk. The nice detectives here understand.”

  “And why did you say the man was murdered?” Detective Stirling asked.

  “That’s my fault,” I admitted. “When the officers came, one of them took a call. After he whispered to the other officer, his manner changed so I figured that Mr. Greaves had passed away.”

  “I see.”

  I looked at him, waiting for confirmation or denial or some sort of clarification, but there was none.

  He pushed on. “I would like to speak with both you ladies, and then other officers will be along presently.”

  “Will my sister be able to open the store tomorrow?” I asked Detective McCloud.

  “I don’t see why not,” he said, “but I will advise you of that later today. Miss Matilda, would you mind if I spoke with both these ladies in private?”

  Matilda nodded and then walked out of the room. Her footsteps suddenly stopped, so I had no doubt she was eavesdropping. Detective Stirling hurried after her. That would certainly spoil her plans.

  “Please tell me what happened in your own words,” Detective McCloud said.

  Rebecca looked at me, so I figured I had to be the one to do the talking. “Mr. Greaves came into the store today to ask my sister to sell. Rebecca always has cupcake samples on the counter. He ate a chocolate cupcake, and then soon afterwards clutched his throat and fell to the ground. Rebecca called 911 and I looked through his pockets for medication.”

  “Why did you think he had medication?” he asked me.

  My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, I forgot. He said, ‘My heart,’ so I thought he had a heart condition and might have some sort of pills, but I couldn’t find any. The paramedics came quite soon and worked on him for a while. They told us they had called the police.”

  The detective nodded at Rebecca. He made to bow again but stopped himself. “So, do you have anything to add to that?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “My sister thinks Mr. Greaves was poisoned…” she began, but the detective interrupted her.

  He fixed me with a steely gaze. “Why would you say that?”

  I did my best not to roll my eyes. “If he was murdered, he obviously wasn’t stabbed or shot or hit over the head. I can’t think of anything else that would have harmed him other than poison.” The detective still looked suspicious, so I added, “And of course I know the police wouldn’t be called unless there were suspicious circumstances.”

  He seemed somewhat mollified at that. “Quite so,” he muttered.

  Rebecca appeared agitated. “Mr. Greaves was poisoned? Could there be other poisoned cupcakes in my store? I’m quite concerned. Some customers ate those samples today. In fact, one of my regular customers ate one of the samples earlier.”

  The detective consulted his notes. “A Mrs. Bates?”

  Rebecca nodded.

  “We’ve been in touch with her and she is fine.”

  Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Did you notice anyone in the store before Mr. Greaves came in? Anyone acting suspiciously?” The detective held up one finger for emphasis. “Take your time, both of you, and think carefully before answering. This could be quite important. Please mention anything that occurs to you. Even if it seems a small and inconsequential detail to you, it could still be significant.”

  Rebecca and I exchanged glances. “I don’t think anything out of the ordinary happened today,” I said. “Well, apart from the murder, that is.”

  Rebecca readily agreed. “Otherwise, it did seem quite a normal day,” she said. “We had some customers who were not regular customers, but of course that happens every day. There wasn’t anyone who seemed to be acting suspiciously.”

  “Surely no one could have put a poisoned cupcake on the sample tray in the hopes that Mr. Greaves and no one but Mr. Greaves would eat it,” I said. “Mr. Greaves always comes—oh, I mean came—here alone. How would anyone know he always ate a sample cupcake? Several other people ate the sample cupcakes today. Like my sister said, one of them was Mrs. Bates. As she’s unaffected, it means all of the cupcakes could not have been poisoned. It doesn’t make sense.”

  The detective gave a slight nod but did not respond. It wasn’t looking too good to me. The only way Mr. Greaves could have been poisoned with a sample cupcake was if someone put it there especially for him. No person could, apart from myself and Rebecca. It looked like both of us might be the prime suspects.

  Something occurred to me. “If Mr. Greaves was poisoned, maybe he was poisoned before he came into the store today and it had nothing to do with the sample cupcake,” I offered.

  Before the detective could respond, Matilda re-emerged. “That’s right!” she said. “It’s very rare that a poison can act so quickly. Strychnine and arsenic in big enough doses are fatal quite soon after administration, as are botulinum and polonium, but there are not many poisons that work so quickly. Take thallium for example. It would have to be a mighty big dose of thallium to kill someone quickly and usually it’s given over time. Maybe whatever killed Mr. Greaves was given to him over time.”

  The detective opened his mouth to say something, but Matilda thrust a card into his hand. “I’ve just fetched the vet’s card from my purse. She can tell you the exact time I was there, which gives me a solid alibi. Oh, my sister Eleanor too. The other detective is looking through our apartment. I told him we had nothing to hide.”

  “Thank you for that,” McCloud said. “You do seem to have rather a good knowledge of poisons for the average citizen.”

  “I’ve read every book Agatha Christie has ever written,” she told him proudly. “Yes, I know quite a lot about poisons.”

  The detective’s eyes widened, but he did not respond. Instead, he turned to me. “I’d like you and Mrs. Yoder to come downtown to give your witness statements as soon as you can. As Mrs. Yoder’s store has to remain closed today, is it possible both you ladies could come to the station within the next hour or so?”

  “Yes, I can drive my sister,” I said.

  He raised one eyebrow. “In a buggy?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not Amish. I drive a car.” I really did have to start wearing make-up again, and nicer clothes for that matter. Maybe I should even start going to the any-time gym nearby. I shook my head. No, that was going a little too far.

  The detective handed me his card. As he did so, our fingers brushed for the briefest moment and a jolt of electricity ran through me. What was wrong with me? Why did I find this detective so attractive?

  Chapter 6

  “I’ve never been inside a police station before,” Rebecca said in a small voice.

  I wrinkled up my nose at the smell of stale coffee and pine disinfectant. “Don’t worry. The detectives will simply ask you what happened.”

  “But I’ve already told the police twice,” she lamented.

  “That’s just how police are,” I told her. “You’ll probably have to repeat it several times. I remember when Ted and I were burgled about five years ago and we had to tell the police over and over again what had happened. Still, I was grateful because they caught the people who did it. They are only doing their job. There’s nothing to worry about because we know we didn’t do it.”

  Rebecca’s fingernails dug into her over skirt. “But somebody did it,” she said. “What if the poison was in my cupcake? What if there are other poisoned cupcakes in the store?”

  “I don’t think that’s likely since the police have taken them all,” I said.

  Rebecca nodded slowly. “Oh yes, how could I have forgotten? We are going to be baking until late tonight. Not that I mind,” she added hastily. “It only matters that everyone is safe. I wouldn’t like anyone else harmed by my cupcakes.”

  I drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Rebecca and I were sitting on hard, blue plastic chairs in a large lobby, the walls of which were painted dark blue as well as various shades of cream and ivory. Behind us were several frosted windows in blue metal frames. Over to one side was a cream countertop behind which was a clearly bored officer tapping away at a computer. A big blue sign was on the wall, but without my glasses I couldn’t read what it said.

  I yawned and stuck my legs out in front of me. “You know, Rebecca, I really doubt the poison is in your cupcakes, but the police will know soon enough.”

  Rebecca held up both hands, palms upward. “But how will they know?

  “Well, I imagine the medical examiner will examine the contents of Mr. Greaves’s stomach and see if there are bits of poison cupcake or whether there was something else poisoned inside his stomach.” As soon as I said it, I doubted my reasoning was correct. “Come to think of it, perhaps that isn’t what they do. I really don’t know how it works.”

  “We’ll have to ask Wanda Hershberger to explain it to us,” Rebecca said.

  Now I was even more puzzled. “Who is Wanda Hershberger?”

  “Do you remember the Hershbergers from your time here as a child?”

  I did remember a kindly couple. “Oh yes, I do remember them. They were nice.”

  “Wanda is their daughter, and Wanda’s daughter does filing for the medical examiner’s office.”

  “Aha.” I tucked it away for further notice in the recesses of my mind. It might prove useful.

  “I wonder who did murder him?” Rebecca said.

  I shrugged. “I’m sure he had a lot of enemies. He didn’t seem the most ethical sort of person and he was very wealthy. That combination probably means he had some powerful enemies.”

  It crossed my mind that someone was trying to frame Rebecca, but I thought it rather silly to try to frame an Amish person. After all, Amish were well known for being peaceable. Amish were even excused from military duty. If someone wronged an Amish person, it was highly unlikely the Amish person would ever retaliate. No, there had to be another reason why Mr. Greaves died when he did.

  I looked up as a detective strode into the room. It was Detective McCloud’s partner, Carter Stirling. “Mrs. Yoder, would you come with me?” he said. “We’re questioning the two of you separately.”

  Rebecca shot me a worried look, but I forced a smile. “It will be all right.” With that, Rebecca was led away, looking over her shoulder at me.

  Detective Stirling presently returned. “Please come with me, Mrs. Delight.”

  “Miss,” I said once more. “I’m divorced.”

  He did not respond. I followed him through a labyrinth of rooms and corridors. These were not modernized like the lobby. The ivory tiled floor of the modern lobby gave way to dirty-colored beige floors with navy blue and chocolate brown squares dotted at random. Here the walls were all a color between a muted beige and unpleasant yellow, and the doorframes were of teal. It wasn’t the nicest color combination I had ever seen.

  Detective Stirling opened a wooden door and nodded inside. “We’ll be right with you,” he said.

  The first thing I noticed about the room was that the charcoal-colored carpet looked new. Nothing else in the room was new. The old table, which appeared to be pine laminate on top, had black metal legs, as did the three chairs, which were upholstered in a faded blue fabric.

  As he had said ‘we’, I sat at the side of the table that only had a single chair. I looked around me. The walls were pale blue, although for some reason a narrow wooden panel ran horizontally around the entire room. Directly opposite me was a huge piece of black felt, pinned onto which were several large maps. To my left was the window with vertical drapes overlooking the parking lot.

  After I sat there for some time, I swiveled around. A huge whiteboard was permanently fixed to the wall behind me, but I couldn’t see any cameras in the room. I wondered if they were leaving me here alone to unnerve me in the hopes I would confess.

  I did my best to dispel the fanciful thoughts. Of course the detectives weren’t doing such a thing to me. The whole idea was preposterous. Besides, if they really did think I was a murderer, then surely I would be in one of those interview rooms that had a two-way mirror, just like the ones on TV.

  I took comfort in that thought for a few moments, but the time stretched on. It was a great relief when the door finally opened and in stepped Detective McCloud. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Delight,” he said. He almost sounded genuine.