Welcome to Nevermore Bookshop by Steffanie Holmes

Author:Steffanie Holmes [Holmes, Steffanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bacchanalia House
Published: 2020-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine,” Mrs. Winstone croaked. “The doctors say I’ll be out tomorrow.”

She didn’t look fine. A splotchy purple bruise covered half her face, and there were more bruises on her arms. She clicked the button on her bed to raise her head up to face us, and the twist of her jaw revealed how the jerking movement pained her.

I can’t believe someone tried to kill this sweet lady. It didn’t seem real.

“Pffft. What do doctors know? They’re even worse than those incompetent detectives,” Mrs. Ellis scoffed, gripping her cousin’s hand. “Brenda, our book club is being picked off one by one, and they’re still holding Gray and Cynthia. Why, the Lachlans couldn’t have attacked you, because they’re behind lock and key!”

“I just spoke with Inspector Hayes,” Mrs. Winstone said, annoyance flickering across her features. “That silly bobby doesn’t believe Gladys’ death was related to my attack.”

“Bah! Then he’s an even bigger fool than I first thought.” Mrs. Ellis rubbed Mrs. Winstone’s fingers. “Now, don’t you worry. Mina is going to help us catch the person who attacked you.”

Mrs. Winstone’s eyes widened. “Mina, is that true? Oh, you really are a treasure.”

“I’m going to try,” I promised, because that was what you did when a person in a hospital bed looked at you with such a hopeful expression. “But you’ve got to remember that I’m not a police officer, so I don’t—”

“Oh, I don’t trust that Inspector Hayes as far as I could throw him, even though he is very handsome with that mustache.” Mrs. Ellis sighed. “Do you have a suspect in mind?”

“A couple,” I thought of Miss Blume speaking with Ginny at her cottage, and Dorothy Ingram’s angry face at the church. “I’m starting to put things together. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I was at the library, speaking with the librarians about running a children’s craft and story hour. They’re very enthusiastic, especially after they’d heard such good things about my management of the youth group. Apparently, all those lovely children are begging me to come back.” She smiled wistfully. “On the way home, I stopped at the market and picked up some groceries. I was setting the bags on the front stoop and hunting in my purse for the keys when someone leapt out behind me and hit me across the face with something hard.” She winced as she raised her arm. “I remember thinking, ‘you’re not going to get me the way you got poor Gladys!’ I lunged at the assailant, grabbing their arm and wrestling with them. I managed to seize the object they struck me with – it was long and round and wooden – but they wrenched it free and kicked me and I fell and hit my head on the stoop. They hit me a few more times,” she gestured to the bruises on her arms. “They must’ve thought I was a goner because they scarpered without finishing the job.”

A long wooden object, like Dorothy Ingram’s walking stick.

“Did you

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