Chapter 3: The Second Letter
Mrs. Holly Armstrong had outlived two husbands and was still going strong into her eighties. She was thinking about her first husband, Gerald, while sitting across from her friend, Flora, and selectively listening to her drone on about Elspeth Hunter and a fall she’d had recently in her kitchen.
“Poor Elspeth. Doesn’t have the brains God gave a goose. I’m surprised she even bothered with the doctor. Still, it is quite a bruise on her face. Though, I told her some powder here and there would work magic and no one would ever know, so I don’t see—”
Mrs. Armstrong couldn’t be bothered giving a moment’s thought to a spinster librarian who treated everyone who came through the door as equals. What was the world coming to? Poor Elspeth, my foot! Now my dear Gerald,
