Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was MOLDY. 

An excerpt from Arsenic and Anise.  This excerpt only makes sense if you know that Cora's cocoa is laced with truth serum.You can read a FREE copy of Arsenic and Anise. HERE

Cora,with her thermos of cocoa in one hand, pulled open the bookshop’s door. Ifollowed with the scones.

Thebookshop hadn’t changed in the years I’d been gone. A checkout counter with anold-fashioned cash register sat beneath the windows. Rows and rows ofbookshelves ran in long straight parallel lines toward the back where the roomopened up to a friendly gathering space.

FrannyCook, a middle-aged woman perpetually dressed in sweater sets—even insummer—looked up with a smile when we entered. She pulled her glasses off hernose to get a better look at us. “The Roberts sisters.” She moved from aroundthe counter to give us both a hug. “I’m so sorry about your grandmother.” Tearsgathered in her eyes as she spoke.

Ibattled my own emotions. “Us, too.”

“What’sthis?” Franny motioned to my basket.

“Blueberrylemon scones. Would you like one?” I held it out to her.

“Ofcourse.” She selected one and plucked a napkin from the basket.

“Ihave cocoa,” Cora said.

Frannyturned down her lips. “I’m allergic.”

“Thatmaybe the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cora said.

Iagreed, but Franny just shrugged. “We all have our crosses to bear.” Shepointed toward the gathering room. “Are you looking for the Silver Sisters?”She dropped her voice to a whisper. “They’re all abuzz about the murder.”

“So,they’re sure it was a murder?” Cora asked.

“Couldit have been suicide?” I asked.

“Whywould anyone choose to die in a kitchen garden? But what do I know?” Frannycocked her head toward the voices coming from beyond the shelves. “They’re thereal experts.”

Ifollowed Cora through the towering shelves to where mismatched furniture sat ona large circular rag rug. In the center, a coffee table held a lone,earthen-ware vase. A stone fireplace ran up one wall and windows looked out atthe Robin River tumbling by.

Herethe Silver Sisters sat, each clutching a copy of Patricia Wentworth’s GreyMask. I guessed that this was the book chosen for this week’s discussion,but, of course, a real murder trumps a fictional one any day. Theirconversation fell still when they spotted us.

“Girls!”Ronnie waved us over. “Join us!”

Corastrode to the coffee table and set her thermos on it. “If you’re sure we’re notintruding.” She dropped onto the rug and sat cross-legged.

Suddenly,I had misgivings. What had made us think we could try and hoodwink the SilverSisters? How long until they guessed our motive for joining them? Minutes?Seconds? Already, I didn’t like the knowing gleam in Miss Mabel’s eyes.

Iadmired Nadia’s jeans, bright red sneakers, and Humboldt University T-shirt.Her sisters were much more formally dressed. Miss Mabel wore black slacks and awhite silk blouse. Ronnie was clad in a crushed velvet green pantsuit, andTacey looked ready for church in a cotton knit dress and heels. Only Nadialooked casual and at peace.

Nadiascooted on the sofa, making room for at least one of us, and patted the emptyspace. I hesitated for only a second before settling beside her and placing thescones on the table beside the thermos. Cora reached into her bag, pulled out aflask of Styrofoam cups and a container she’d filled with whipped cream.

Corapoured a cup of cocoa, opened the container of cream, and spooned out a dollop.“Anyone?”

“I’lltake one.” I reached for the cup and met Cora’s surprised glance. My shrug saidI had nothing to hide. Besides, just the memory of the cocoa made my mouthwater.

Corapoured three more cups, and I passed around the basket of scones. I cradled thecup in my hand and felt its warmth.

Tearsfilled Tacey’s eyes. “We miss our dear Cordie so much.”

“Butyou are more than welcome substitutes.” Miss Mabel reached out to pat Cora’sshoulder. “You know, she always brought us treats, too.” She plucked up a cup,spooned a dollop of cream in it, and took a sip.

“Ihad brought a jar of pickles.” Nadia nodded at the dark green vase on thetable. “From the factory, you know.” She made this sound like an apology. Sheblew on her cocoa before taking a swallow.

Ronniescrunched her nose after her first drink of the cocoa. “It’s just too early inthe morning to eat pickles, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,”Tacey agreed. “Pickles are a lunch food. Best served with potato salad andhamburgers.”

Corashot me a quick jubilant look. I read her silent message. See? It’s workingalready!

Nadiarubbed her chin. “I’ll have to talk to Clint about developing a morning pickle.You know, fermented food is very good for your gut health.”

MissMabel pointed her cup at Cora. “We want to hear your thoughts on Mason’smurder.”

“Idon’t know anything,” Cora said.

“Meneither,” I added.

“Butyou do know the victim,” Ronnie said. “After all, he’s your cousin’sbrother-in-law.”

“Masonwas five years older than me,” I said.

“Whichmakes him fifteen years older than me,” Cora added.

“Goodness,you are a baby,” Ronnie said.

Ihad made Angie a teenage mom. She’d given birth to Cora at the much morerespectable, childbearing age of twenty-six. Angie still hadn’t married Cora’sfather, but at least she knew who he was. My father was a mystery that Angietook to the grave. I had my suspicions, but that’s all they were.

“Yourgrandmother had so many gifts,” Miss Mabel said, changing the subject.

“Herrecipes were just a small taste of her talents.” Ronnie smiled at her pun.

MissMabel selected a scone and a napkin. “But we have gifts of our own, you know.”

“Yes,”Ronnie agreed. “You might not know this, but back in the day, I was anactress.”

Nadia’seyes twinkled. “And you still are.”

“Anda master of disguises,” Miss Mabel added.

“Thanks,friends,” Ronnie said with a blush. “And Nadia is much too shy to ever admitit, but she’s nothing short of a computer genius.”

Nadiabatted at the air as if swiping away the compliment. “Oh please.”

“It’strue,” Miss Mabel insisted. “She could hack her way into Fort Knox if shewanted to.”

“Andyou all know what Miss Mabel brings to the table,” Ronnie said.

Noone mentioned Tacey’s gifts. As the sole heir of the Giffords, a family thathad made a fortune in the publishing industry, maybe Tacey’s contribution tothe group was financing, but no one mentioned her talents, and I noticed thatshe silently ate her scone while her sisters lauded each other.

“Becausewe all work together,” Ronnie said, “We crack the cases the police can’t.”

“Eventhough Mabel gets all the credit,” Tacey said.

Didshe sound bitter? I wasn’t sure.

“Sheallows us to stay in the background,” Nadia added, “where we’re safe.”

“It’strue. I do attract a lot of negative attention,” Miss Mabel said with a sigh.

“Butyou also put bad guys behind bars,” Ronnie said.

“Youmean we, dear,” Miss Mabel said gently. “You know I could never do whatI do alone.” She took another sip of cocoa before continuing. “Now, here’s whatwe’re thinking: the most likely candidates are members of the Fleming family.”

“Youremember, don’t you, dear?” Ronnie placed her hand on my arm. “Their son diedduring oh heck week last month.”

Thefinal and most grueling week of the tryouts for the high school football team.I had a sudden memory of a very sweaty, tired, and sore Max limping his waythrough the last two weeks of summer.

“Ihadn’t heard about that,” I said.

“FinnFleming, a freshman, died during practice,” Cora told me.

“Thetemperature that day was a hundred and ten,” Nadia continued.

“Incrediblywarm for here,” Miss Mabel added, “where it’s usually so mild.”

“Diedof heat exhaustion,” Ronnie said.

“Excuseme,” Tacey bounced to her feet. “I—huh—forgot I have an appointment.” Shebolted from the room as fast as her high heels could take her.

TheSilver Sisters exchanged glances.

“Oh,dear,” Nadia said. “We really need to be more sensitive.”

“Fiddle-sticks,”Miss Mabel said. “It’s been three years since Graham died.”

Coramust have noticed my curiosity because she leaned over and whispered, “GrahamGifford, Miss Tacey’s grandson.”

“Didhe die playing football, too?” I asked.

“No,but he was something of a local football hero,” Ronnie said.

“Definitelyone of Mason Breckenridge’s pets,” Miss Mabel said.

Suicide,Cora mouthed the word.

MissMabel sipped her cocoa and pulled the cup away to study it. “Oh my, this is tasty.Have you tried it?” she asked her sisters.

Ronnieand Nadia swallowed their drinks, as well.

“Yum!”Nadia shot Cora an approving look.

“Verygood,” Ronnie agreed. She patted her lips with a napkin, leaving a red smearbehind. “Much better than your dreadful pickles, Nadia.”

Nadiabristled. “My pickles are not dreadful. And I’m surprised you think so,given that you’ve chosen to wear that suit.”

Ronnieglanced at her clothes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Thatgreen would fit right in a pickle jar.” Nadia shook herself. “No. A pickle jarwould be too good for it. It’s worse than a MOLDY cucumber.”

“Girls!”Miss Mabel chided with a laugh. “Stop bickering. We have to stay on task. We’rehere to discuss a murder! A man’s life has been taken, and we have to find theculprit.”

“Dowe, though? Ronnie grumbled.

“Whatare you saying?” Mabel asked.

“Whydon’t we take up gin rummy?” Ronnie asked.

Nadialooked horrified. “The card game?”

“Oh,my heavens!” Mabel threw up her hands.