“Yes, yes.” She waved one hand. “The coffee went down the wrong way.”

  I was genuinely shocked. “A mistress? Your husband had a mistress? And you know about the mistress?”

  “Well Colin didn’t know that I knew, of course,” she said. “I had a private detective following him around. I told the police, and I know you ladies won’t tell anyone.”

  I did my best to process the information. “And you think his mistress might have killed him?”

  She nodded. “Perhaps. I mean they had been seeing each other for some time and I guess she wanted my husband to divorce me for her. This is all pure speculation, you understand. I told the police all this, so if there is any truth to it, they’ll find out.”

  “Didn’t you mind that he had a mistress?” I asked her, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Well, yes and no,” she said. “I haven’t been in love with my husband for years, but we did have a comfortable life.” She broke off and gestured around the room. “We both signed an airtight pre-nup before we married, so neither of us could leave or we would lose everything. He never bothered me. I did my own thing and I didn’t really care whether he was here or not. He was welcome to his mistress as far as I could care. The only thing is I thought it quite rude of him.”

  “Yes, I am terribly sorry,” I said. “Do you have her name, so I can pray for her?”

  Matilda whipped a notepad and pen from her pocket.

  “Iris. Iris Ogilvie,” Stephanie said.

  “Yes, I will pray for her.” And I really would have to—I could not bring myself to say I would pray for someone and then not do so.

  “And did his mistress have a husband?” Matilda asked. “Rebecca here would need to pray for him too.”

  “Yes, I will definitely need to pray for him.”

  “Richard is his name,” Stephanie said. “I haven’t met either of them, of course, but the private investigator did give me a file on them with their photos. I gave the file to the police, of course.”

  “That’s most helpful. Thank you so much. I’ll pray for both of them. And would you mind if I prayed for you as well in your time of need?” I quickly amended that to, “I know you’re not exactly in need, but it must be a trying time for you.”

  “Yes it is. Thank you for praying for me. That’s nice of you.”

  I nodded to Matilda and she wrote something on her notepad.

  “And do you have any children? I’d like to pray for them as they lost their father.”

  Stephanie nodded, causing light to reflect from her huge diamond earrings. “We have the one child, my son Brooks.”

  “He must be such a comfort to you,” I said. “Is he coming back to town for the funeral?”

  “Oh, he lives here,” Stephanie said. “In this house. Or rather he did, until…” her voice trailed away. After an interval, she added, “And he’s recently moved back home, to the pool house out back. It’s next to the pool,” she said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  I turned to Matilda. “Matilda, would you mind writing his name as well?” To Stephanie, I said, “Did your husband have any other relatives I should pray for?”

  “No, just the two of us.”

  I tapped my chin. “Oh goodness me. Something just occurred to me.”

  Once more, Stephanie leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “Oh dear me, it’s not polite of me to say, but what if your husband left something to his mistress in the will? Then that would give her a motive to murder him and I would have to pray even harder.”

  Stephanie frowned. “That occurred to me too, but I’ve already been in touch with the lawyer. No, Brooks and I are the only ones who inherit.”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?”

  I looked up at the owner of the softly spoken drawl. I knew at once this was Stephanie’s son Brooks as he was dressed all in white, matching both his mother and the room in which he was now standing.

  His mother made the introductions and Brooks inclined his head and offered a slight nod. He walked to the bar and poured himself a brandy and then took a seat on an antique giltwood chair near his mother, facing us.

  “And these ladies were with your father when he passed,” Stephanie said, ending the introductions.

  “Actually, I wasn’t. Jane, I mean Rebecca here was,” Matilda said.

  I spoke up. “Yes. I’m sorry to tell you that your father passed away in my cupcake store. My sister went to his aid. I called 911, but it was too late.”

  “That’s too bad,” Brooks said, averting his eyes.

  He was softly spoken, and I could see his hands were soft. I doubted he had done a hard day’s work in his life. In fact, I would be surprised if he had done a hard five minute’s work in his life. It also seemed he had either very good sunscreen or he spent all his life indoors.

  “I’m very sorry for your loss,” I continued.

  Brooks again gave me a half nod. “Thank you. It’s kind of you to come. Is that why you’ve come, to offer your condolences?”

  “That’s right,” I said, “and to pray.”

  Brooks raised his eyebrows. “For whom?”

  “Well, for you and your mother, of course,” Matilda said, “and for anyone else who would be affected by your father’s passing.”

  “I’m sure Dad’s mistress was affected by his passing,” Brooks said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Stephanie shot him a sharp look. “Brooks!”

  He looked down at his white leather shoes. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll pray for her too, and I’ll pray for anyone else who would be saddened by your father’s passing.”

  “This kind lady is going to pray for your father’s enemies as well,” Stephanie said to Brooks.

  Brooks looked startled. “For his enemies? Why would you do that?”

  I couldn’t think of a ready answer, so I decided to offer another Scripture. “He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sendeth on the just and on the unjust,” I said. Brooks looked at me blankly so I added, “Pray for them which despitefully use you.”

  I thought the Scriptures most useful, but Stephanie yawned widely and said in a bored tone, “It’s most kind of you to pray for everyone.”

  I looked directly at Brooks. “Would you have any idea who might have murdered your father?”

  If he had thought such a question too forthright for an Amish lady to ask, he showed no sign. “Well, lots of people. His mistress, his mistress’s husband, and no doubt the people he was in business with. Dad made a lot of enemies. He stepped on a lot of toes.”

  “Brooks!” Stephanie said again.

  “Well, I shall pray for them all,” I said. “It’s very sad, isn’t it, and it must be unpleasant for you with the police poking around. They’ve taken me in for questioning as well and it was most distressing.”

  Brooks’s jaw fell open. “They took you in for questioning? Why would they do that? You’re Amish!”

  “Your father had eaten one of my sample cupcakes, and they thought that might have been what poisoned him so they questioned me,” I told him. “However, they soon found out that other customers ate the cupcakes and those customers are unaffected.”

  “Do the detectives still suspect you?” Brooks asked.

  I shook my head. “No, not since the police found out that your father was poisoned at least fifteen minutes before he entered my store.”

  Brooks rubbed his chin. “Fifteen minutes you say?” He looked off at a large painting hanging over the white marble fireplace. The painting too was white, although had faint touches of color. From where I was sitting I couldn’t quite make out what it was.

  I took the opportunity to study Brooks. He had thick, long hair, the type worn by televangelists in the 1980s and the early 1990s. He used liberal amounts of aftershave, or maybe it was men’s cologne. Whatever it was, the heady scent of spices and vanilla hung in a thick cloud around him. I looked at the fingers clutching a brandy glass and his nails were perfectly manicured.

  I wondered if he could be the poisoner. After all, he didn’t look as though he had the stomach to strangle anyone and I figured poison would be his weapon of choice.

  “Given that your father drove himself to my store and also the neighboring store of William and Mia Willow,” I began, “it stands to reason that there must have been someone in the car with him when he was poisoned.”

  “I wonder if someone had given him poisoned coffee,” Brooks said, looking thoughtful.

  Matilda shrugged. “As you would know, the police impounded his car and searched it. I suspect that someone was in the car with him and they administered the poison in some sort of substance and then took the remains away.”

  “I wonder what it could have been in?” Brooks said. “Maybe they slipped something into his coffee.”

  I made a mental note to ask Wanda Hershberger to find out from her daughter. Even if they couldn’t tell what substance the poison had been in, they would definitely know the contents of his stomach.

  “The police questioned us as well,” Brooks offered, “given that my mother and I inherit.”

  “I’m sure the police always look at who inherits first,” Matilda said.

  Brooks looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. “Quite so,” he said. “Mom was worried that Dad’s mistress might inherit something and the lawyer said she didn’t.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Stephanie’s direction, and I figured she didn’t want to admonish her son yet again in front of us. Clearly, she was not pleased by what he was saying.

  I wanted to discover if Brooks had an alibi, but I had no idea of the right questions to ask. I could hardly ask him where he was at the time of his father’s murder. Instead, I said, “I expect the police are looking closely at everyone who doesn’t have an alibi.”

  “Yes, that’s probably where they lost interest in both of us,” Stephanie said, gesturing to her son, then back to herself. “We were together binge watching episodes of When Calls the Heart on Netflix.”

  I didn’t think Brooks would enjoy the Hallmark channel as much as his mother, but of course an Amish lady wouldn’t know that. I was grateful when Matilda spoke up. “I would not have thought that your type of show, Brooks?”

  “I’ve been watching it with Mom to make her happy. You know, after Dad being murdered and all. It’s not something I’d watch given the choice, but it makes Mom happy.”

  Stephanie shot Brooks a winning smile.

  “What part of the show do you like the most?” I said, hoping to figure out whether or not he had actually watched it.

  “I don’t really like anything about it. It’s more of a chick flick,” he said. “I liked all those people who changed into creatures, but that’s about it.”

  Stephanie gasped. “Brooks, there were no creatures! You have it mixed up with something else. Don’t you remember? It was the show with the Mountie.”

  Brooks turned red. “Oh yes, I remember it now. The show with the Mountie.”

  I wondered if Stephanie had cooked up a scheme with her son to give them both an alibi. If so, she should have counseled him to pretend he liked the show and told him what it was about.

  “I’ve watched When Calls the Heart,” Matilda said. “I very much enjoyed it too.”

  The questions were getting us nowhere. Brooks and Stephanie alleged they had an alibi. Something occurred to me. “Was anyone else here watching the show with you?” I asked Brooks.

  “Why do you want to know?” he asked in a belligerent manner.

  “No, it was just the two of us,” Stephanie said in even tones. “Brooks was keeping me company after my poor husband’s passing. It was so good of him to watch something I’d like to see. I couldn’t really watch those action movies that he likes to watch. Entirely too unsettling, you understand.”

  I nodded slowly. So no one else was with them and they had given each other an alibi, which to my thinking ruled their alibis out. Matilda shot me a strange look. I knew she was thinking exactly the same thing, that Stephanie and Brooks were in it together.

  “Oh that’s good,” I said. “Is there anyone else you can think of that we should pray for?”

  “No, no one else,” she said.

  “Well, I’m very sorry for your loss and all the hassles it brings you,” I said. I stood up, as did Matilda.

  “I grow my own herbal remedies,” Matilda told her. “My sister Eleanor and I lived just out of Dalian in China for some years and we became interested in Traditional Chinese Medicine. I noticed you have some young ginkgo biloba trees growing at the front of your house.”

  Stephanie’s face changed. For once, she looked truly interested. “I was a Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner before I met my husband. That’s actually how we met. He was a client of mine.”

  I wondered if the police knew that. It sounded awfully incriminating to me. Stephanie would know all about wolfsbane in that case.

  “That’s wonderful,” Matilda said. “My sister and I grow a vast array of herbs. Do you still grow your own?”

  Stephanie clasped her hands in delight. “Yes I do.”

  “Oh, may I have a quick peek at your garden?”

  Stephanie’s expression changed. She looked quite put out. I thought she would refuse. After hesitating for what seemed an age, she finally said, “I can show you quickly, but then I must take my leave because I have an appointment with my lawyer.”

  “A quick look would be lovely,” Matilda said. “It’s so wonderful to meet someone else who is interested in Traditional Chinese Medicine.”

  Stephanie led us through a huge kitchen with sparkling granite countertops to an extensive herb garden just behind the kitchen.

  Stephanie waved one hand over it. “Well, there you go!”

  “You have such a wonderfully extensive herb garden,” Eleanor said. “It puts mine to shame.”

  Celia appeared at Stephanie’s shoulder.

  “It was so kind of you ladies to come and offer to pray for me,” Stephanie said. “Celia will show you to your car.”

  “Oh, thanks so much, goodbye,” I said.

  Celia marched around the edge of the building, and ushered us along a white gravel path to where the car was parked. She stood there with her arms crossed, as another car approached. My hand was reaching for the car door when a familiar figure jumped out of the car.

  “Mrs. Yoder, Mrs. Birtwistle,” the voice called.

  I stood, frozen to the spot. Detective McCloud! Would he recognize me? I wished I was wearing a bonnet over my prayer kapp so I could pull it over my face.

  He strode over to us. “What are you ladies doing here?” His tone was accusatory.

  Matilda spoke up. “Rebecca wanted to come and pray for Mrs. Greaves,” she told him. She looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “That’s right,” I said, looking down the detective’s shoes. “It is our ways. The poor man died in my store, or at least collapsed in my store, so I need to pray for all his relatives.” I knew Detective McCloud wouldn’t know any better. I felt bad for deceiving him.

  He put his hands on his hips. “Is that so?”

  I thought it best to speak in Pennsylvania Dutch. “ En Schtich in Zeit is neine wart schpaeder naus.” He stared at me, so I added, “Ich hab en aker grummbiere geblanst.”

  “Quite so,” he said. “Well, good day, ladies. I must go and speak with Mrs. Greaves.” With that, he strode away.

  I wasted no time getting in the car. “That was a close call,” I said. “Matilda, do you think he recognized me?”

  “No I don’t. You are identical twins and you do look just like Rebecca in those clothes,” Matilda said. “I think it was doubtful for a moment, but when you spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch that confused him. I don’t know why, since you can speak Pennsylvania Dutch too. Maybe that didn’t occur to him at the time.”

  “I hope it doesn’t occur to him later,” I said, wincing.

  “Anyway, what did you say to him?”

  I chuckled. “I said the first expressions that came to my head even though they make no sense.”

  Matilda laughed. She hit the gas and I was flung back in my seat. “What did you say?” she asked again.

  I told her. “‘A stitch in time, saves nine,’ and then I said, ‘I planted an acre of potatoes.’”

  Matilda laughed but then stopped abruptly. “You know, Jane, there was wolfsbane growing in Stephanie’s herb garden.”

  Chapter 14

  “Stephanie did it for sure,” Eleanor said. “She doesn’t have any pets. That means she can’t be trusted.”

  Matilda rolled her eyes. “What a silly thing to say, Eleanor! Lots of nice people don’t have pets. Someone might be allergic to pets and so can’t have any. There are plenty of reasons. Besides, everyone who doesn’t have pets isn’t a murderer.”

  Eleanor folded her arms.

  “Stephanie and her son will inherit a lot of money,” I told Matilda, Eleanor, and Rebecca.

  “I don’t think the police are looking too hard at them,” Rebecca said.

  I was puzzled. “What makes you think that?”

  “The detectives were around here earlier today.”

  I was shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” Rebecca said. “I was going to tell you after work, and I just did.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Both detectives? I told you I ran into Detective McCloud when I was pretending to be you.”

  Rebecca pulled a face. “I hope you didn’t do anything to embarrass me.”

  “I doubt it. I hope not. I don’t think I did,” I said.

  “No, she acted just like you,” Matilda said with a chuckle.

  Rebecca was clearly at a loss as to how to take that. Finally, she said, “No, it was that other detective. What’s his name, Stirling?”

  “What did he want?” I asked her.

  “He told me none of the cakes were poisoned.”

  “But that’s not news,” Eleanor exclaimed, extracting one of Mr. Crumbles’ claws from her leg. “The poor thing. He hasn’t learned how to retract his claws yet.”