Matilda patted my arm in a reassuring manner. “I wouldn’t worry about it. By the way, do you happen to know a good lawyer?”

  I sighed. “No, I don’t.” Only my ex-husband and I’m hardly likely to ask him, I added silently.

  “Then there’s nothing else for it!” Matilda exclaimed. Her tone was gleeful. “We’re going to have to solve the murder ourselves. The police never get it right. If the police got it right, then Miss Marple wouldn’t have had anything to do. This will be my first case.”

  She smiled widely as she said it. “Don’t you worry, Jane. We will have some coffee or meadow tea and we will make a list of suspects. Surely there must be plenty of suspects. Greaves was a very wealthy man, so he would have left an inheritance. The motives for murder are usually love, money, or wrong place-wrong time. Also, you said he didn’t really threaten Rebecca, but he might have threatened other people. Plus, a man like that would have made business enemies. And then there’s his wife. Perhaps she wanted to do away with him.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked her. “You mean for the inheritance?”

  Matilda shook her head. “Perhaps he was mean to her and finally pushed her over the edge. Maybe it was for the inheritance. Or maybe he was having an affair.”

  I scratched my head. “You think he was having an affair?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I have no idea, but it’s certainly a possibility we should investigate. If Greaves was having an affair, then not only would his wife want to murder him, but maybe his mistress was married and so her husband would want to murder him too. Maybe. And as Greaves obviously was still with his wife and not with his mistress, then maybe his mistress wanted to murder him as well. That gives us three suspects.”

  I shot her a small smile, but I thought it all rather a stretch. One thing was certain; the detectives did suspect me. I had no idea who the other suspects were and how far the police would go in their pursuit of them. As I showed the detectives out, thoughts of me giving evidence in a courtroom flashed through my mind.

  Chapter 8

  Rebecca, Matilda, and I hurried back up the stairs to the apartment. Matilda was brimming with enthusiasm about working on her first case. When I walked into the living room, I nearly fell over the cat. “Mr. Crumbles, what are you doing?” I said in alarm.

  Eleanor hurried over. “What is he playing with?”

  “It’s a set of keys,” I said. They’re not mine. Are they yours?” I looked from Eleanor to Matilda and back again.

  Both shook their heads. The cat gave the keys a huge shove with his paw and they shot across the room. In a few seconds the cat was on top of them, sending them in the other direction. “I’ll have to get him his own set of keys,” Eleanor said with a smile.

  “You’re missing the point, Eleanor,” Matilda said in a scolding tone. “Someone owns those keys and your cat has stolen them.”

  Eleanor gasped. “How could you say such a thing about my cat? And have you completely lost your mind, Matilda? Cats can’t steal keys.”

  The bell to the apartment rang once and then rang again a few times in quick succession. “I’ll get it,” I said. I opened the door to see Detective McCloud. “Haven’t you left already?” I said. I realized my tone was snappy. It came out more curt than I intended it.

  “I’ve misplaced my keys,” he said, scratching his head in bewilderment. “You mind if I have a look around the herb garden?”

  “Oh, I think the cat might have your keys. Come with me.”

  Mr. Crumbles was still playing with the keys, pushing them with his paw and pouncing on them with great delight. “Are those your keys?” I asked the detective.

  He chuckled and bent over the cat. He carefully reached out his hand and stroked Mr. Crumbles and then took the keys. “How did he get them?”

  “Well, I didn’t give them to him,” I said. I felt quite defensive. After all, I was no doubt the prime suspect in a murder case.

  The detective did not respond. After tickling Mr. Crumbles under his chin, he straightened up. “Thank you, ladies. That’s one mystery solved.”

  I nodded to Matilda as a silent signal to show the detective out. She didn’t take the hint. I ducked my head slightly in his direction, but she simply stared at me. “What is it, Jane?” she finally asked. “Is your neck sore?”

  I gave up. “I’ll show you out, Detective,” I said in a resigned fashion.

  When we were at the door, I opened the front door for him. “I didn’t take your keys,” I said. “I know it sounds strange, but the cat did it.”

  To my surprise, he chuckled. “I believe you,” he said. I nodded and shut the door and then leaned back against it.

  I knew I was innocent, but I was sure that prisons were filled with innocent people. Or maybe not filled, but there had to be some innocent people incarcerated and I did not want to become one of them. I hurried up the stairs. “I forgot to ask Detective McCloud when you can open the store again.”

  “They already told me. I can open it now, but I’m not going to. Matilda was just telling me that you’re the prime suspect. I think we should all put our heads together to try to figure out who it could be.”

  I was touched. “Are you sure?”

  Rebecca nodded. “I’ll make us all some meadow tea.”

  Eleanor jumped to her feet. “You stay right there. I’ll make the tea and some nice coffee as well.”

  I hid a smile. I suspected my sister always gave Eleanor and Matilda meadow tea, but they far preferred strong coffee.

  Soon we were sitting around sipping a hot beverage, and a plate of delightful whoopie pies and slices of Shoo-fly pie was sitting in front of us.

  Matilda’s pen hovered over a large sheet of paper. “Now let’s write down the suspects,” she said. “The only two we know for certain are Rebecca and Jane.”

  Rebecca and I winced. Matilda pushed on. “Let’s make a list of the other suspects. His wife, his mistress…”

  Rebecca interrupted her. “Colin Greaves had a mistress?”

  Matilda shrugged. “Who knows? But I’m going to write down ‘mistress’ because we don’t want to leave anyone out. I am also writing, ‘His mistress’s husband’.” She nodded to Rebecca. “We don’t know if he had a mistress or if his alleged mistress had a husband, but we need to write that down. Oh, and then any heirs. Also, people he threatened. I have written ‘Heirs’ and underlined it and I’ve written ‘People he threatened’ and underlined it. There are also people he had business dealings with. I’ll make that another heading.” She underlined the last with such a flourish, her pen flew off the page. Mr. Crumbles looked up at her, no doubt hoping the pen would fly away and he could play with it.

  “And of course, William and Mia Willow, the owners of the health food and supplements store, who also refused to sell to Colin Greaves. Maybe Greaves threatened them a little harder and they retaliated. Eleanor, fetch my laptop, will you?”

  Eleanor trotted out of the room and presently returned with a laptop. She handed it to Matilda. “No, you search on it and I’ll do the writing,” Eleanor said. “Have you ever seen Miss Marple do her own searching on a computer? Indeed not! She leaves that for others.”

  “They didn’t have computers in Miss Marple’s time,” Eleanor pointed out.

  Matilda made a tut-tutting sound with her tongue. “Always the critic, Eleanor. Always the critic. Now see what you can find out about Colin Greaves. Find out the name of his wife and find out the name of his children. That’s the first thing you are to do.”

  I expected Eleanor to take a while, but it proved she was a deft hand at computers. “His wife’s name is Stephanie,” she announced. “They have only one son, Brooks. There’s a photo of him here and he looks like a criminal.”

  “Move that laptop around here so we can all see,” Matilda ordered her.

  I peered at the screen. “He doesn’t look like a criminal to me. He looks like someone who spends all his time in the gym.”

  Eleanor nodded sagely. “Exactly! That’s how it starts.”

  I was quite confused. “How what starts?” I shot Rebecca a look. She was sipping her tea. No doubt she was used to the sisters.

  “Yes, it all starts at the gym. They get hooked on steroids and then the steroid dealer of course deals in other drugs. So then they become drug addicts and then they turn to crime to fund their drug habit.”

  Matilda snorted rudely. “Are you saying Brooks murdered his father to get the inheritance so he could spend it on drugs?”

  Eleanor shot her a dark look. “You have a better idea?”

  Unperturbed, Matilda pushed on. “Now, Eleanor, see if he has a mistress, and see if you can find out anything about the mistress.”

  Eleanor threw both hands into the air. “Mistresses are secret, Matilda. If he had a mistress, it certainly wouldn’t be on the computer.”

  “Well then, see if there’s any scandal about him, and while you’re at it, look for business dealings.”

  My spirits fell. This is not looking good for me, I thought. Aloud, I said, “We have two definite suspects, his wife, Stephanie, and his son, Brooks. No doubt he was worth millions, and we should find out exactly who is the beneficiary of his will.”

  “Perhaps Stephanie and Brooks were in it together,” Matilda said. “In Agatha Christie books, often two or more people are in it together.”

  Rebecca suddenly spoke up. “We need to do a lot of baking this afternoon, Jane. The police took all the cupcakes, so we have to replenish them before tomorrow.”

  I drew my thoughts from the murder investigation to the more pressing matter of the store. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “We can think and pray as we work,” Rebecca said. “That will clear our minds and maybe something will occur to us.”

  “I’ve got it!” Eleanor suddenly shrieked, causing the rest of us to jump. Even Mr. Crumbles ran under a sideboard. “It says here that Colin Greaves cheated some people. He had an investment scheme developing property that didn’t exist. It says here that people lost millions.”

  “Does it mention them by name?” Matilda said, leaning over so she could see the screen.

  “No, it doesn’t mention any individual names,” Eleanor said, “so I’ll have to search and find out their names. It says Greaves cheated individuals into investing in projects that did not materialize.”

  “Good work, Eleanor,” Matilda said, although she said it in a begrudging manner.

  Rebecca agreed. “Before the store opens tomorrow, Jane and I should visit with Wanda Hershberger. Her daughter works in the medical examiner’s office. We should be able to find out the poison that was used on Mr. Greaves.”

  “How would she know that information?” I asked Rebecca.

  “Her daughter does filing at the medical examiner’s office. I’m sure she would know. Wanda can ask her to find out. In fact, I’ll call her from the store phone now and ask her to find out and tell us tomorrow.”

  “But Wanda Hershberger is an Amish name,” I said. “Is she Amish? How will you call her?”

  “Wanda lives in a grossmammi haus behind her daughter’s house, and her daughter’s husband has a carpentry business in the barn near the house. He has a phone there so I’ll call and leave a message.”

  “Good idea,” I said. To Eleanor and Matilda, I said, “A grossmammi haus means ‘grandmother house’. It’s a little house behind a main house, where grandmothers might live.”

  Matilda set down her pen and paper. “Yes, I know that, Jane. Rebecca, I’m surprised you’re getting involved in this. It’s not quite an Amish thing to do, is it?”

  Rebecca chuckled. “Mer sott em sei Eegne net verlosse; Gott verlosst die Seine niche.”

  Matilda looked at me, her eyes raised. “I don’t know that one!”

  I translated. “One should not abandon one’s own; God does not abandon His own.”

  Chapter 9

  The following morning I collected Rebecca from her house and she directed me to Wanda Hershberger’s house. It was early in the morning, but not early for an Amish person, as I well knew from my childhood. I stifled a yawn. Rebecca and I had been up late baking.

  When we arrived, I followed Rebecca around behind the main house to a small grossmammi haus in the yard. Small and white with a red roof, it looked like a miniature version of the main house. I didn’t see Wanda’s daughter, so I figured she was already on her way to work, and by the sounds coming out of the barn, it seemed Wanda’s son-in-law was already at work in his carpentry business.

  “Hiya Rebecca,” Mrs. Hershberger greeted my sister. “Guten mariye.”

  “Good morning, Wanda. Do you remember my sister, Jane?”

  Mrs. Hershberger smiled at me. “Of course, but I wouldn’t recognize you now. You’re so much older. A great deal older, in fact. Oh well, age comes to us all.”

  Thanks a lot, I thought. Aloud I said, “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Hershberger.”

  “Please call me Wanda. I’m about to have breakfast. Please come in. I was about to have scrapple and kaffi soup.”

  I hadn’t eaten either coffee soup or scrapple in years. I was trying to watch my weight and thought about refusing the scrapple as we sat down to the old oak table in the little kitchen, but the delightful scent of deep-fried scrapple, the pork scraps and trimmings with flour, cornmeal, and spices, cut into slices and pan-fried until crispy brown, was simply irresistible.

  “Would you like it with apple butter, jelly, maple syrup, or ketchup?” Wanda asked us.

  I asked for apple butter while Rebecca selected maple syrup. The scrapple was served with eggs and fried potatoes. I had all but forgotten the hearty Amish breakfast of my youth. These days, I simply had coffee for breakfast. Presently, Wanda asked, “Would you like cereal topped with fruit or would you prefer kaffi soup?”

  I toyed with asking for coffee soup since I hadn’t had time for coffee that morning and I was already feeling somewhat caffeine-deprived, but I had never liked coffee soup before and I didn’t think I would like it now. Coffee soup consisted of bits of bread broken up and placed in a bowl with coffee and warm milk poured over the top. “I’d like some cereal with fruit, please,” I said, and Rebecca had the same.

  To my relief, Wanda filled a large mug of coffee and passed it to me. I took a sip and sighed with delight. There was something different, something comforting, about Amish coffee. It reminded me of my youth, the happy family life, the close-knit community with everyone doing their best to help others out. Still, I was used to my non-Amish—or as the Amish called it, English—ways by now and I would never be able to return to the Amish way of life. That still didn’t rule out the waves of nostalgia that overwhelmed me from time to time.

  I was anxious to find out the news from the medical examiner’s office, but I knew it couldn’t be rushed. I waited for Rebecca to ask Wanda.

  It turned out that she didn’t have to. “So, Rebecca, the Englischer who died in your store. You want to know what made him die?”

  I leaned across the table. Rebecca said, “Jah, denki.”

  “It was poison.”

  My spirits sank. I don’t know what I had been expecting. What else could it have been?

  Rebecca nodded. I wondered how she could be so calm, and I knew it was her unwavering faith in God’s will. “Yes, I figured it was poison as the detectives took herb plants from our garden, so we were certain it was one of those. Did your daughter find out exactly what the poison was?”

  “Yes, she did. It was wolfsbane.”

  “Aha!” I said. “One of the detectives did mention wolfsbane more than the other herbs.”

  Wanda narrowed her eyes. “And you have wolfsbane growing in your garden?”

  “Yes we do,” Rebecca said, “and I believe the police see us as suspects.”

  “That would make sense,” Wanda said after she took a large gulp of coffee. “After all, the mann did die in your store and you are growing the very poison that killed him.”

  “But surely the police would think it quite silly of us to poison someone with a poisonous plant that we were growing,” I said.

  Wanda shook her head. “My daughter always says that criminals aren’t that clever. That’s why they get caught.”

  My spirits sank even further. This was not good, not good at all. What was I to do? More and more I was looking like the prime suspect. Something occurred to me. “Did your daughter happen to mention if he was poisoned long before he died?”

  Wanda furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he ate a cupcake in Rebecca’s store and collapsed soon after. What if someone had poisoned him at his home say five hours earlier and the poison took five hours to work?” I was so anxious that I wasn’t choosing my words well.

  “I wonder if someone was trying to frame us?” Rebecca said. “He was poisoned with wolfsbane and we have wolfsbane growing in the garden. That seems a little too much of a coincidence.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s what the police think,” Wanda said, a remark that did not help my anxiety at all.

  My stomach knotted and I fought rising panic.

  “There’s no point worrying about it,” Wanda said. “You just have to find out when the man was actually poisoned. Maybe it was as you said, that he was poisoned some time ago. Or maybe it was in the cupcake, which means someone had to have placed that cupcake there. Rebecca, who knows the Birtwistle sisters grow poisonous plants or wolfsbane on your property?”

  Rebecca bit her lip. “I don’t know. Eleanor and Matilda had been on a cruise for months, so they couldn’t have told anyone recently. I certainly haven’t told anyone. Have you, Jane?”

  I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been watering the plants, but I’m sure I haven’t told anyone. Besides, I don’t really know anyone. Not any more.”