Chapter Thirteen
Zelda frowned, eyebrows drawing together ferociously. “Who?”
“Irene Bell. A young woman about Ann’s age. You know—she’s worked everywhere in town and gotten fired from everywhere,” said Cora.
Zelda still frowned so Cora elaborated, “Estelle Schubert’s niece.”
“Oh, the ward,” said Zelda, bobbing her head.
I didn’t think I’d heard the word ward since I’d listened to Jane Austen audiobooks.
Zelda continued, “Why would Irene Bell have wanted to murder Estelle? And Greta and Rufus? That all seems totally wrong.”
“Well, you know,” said Cora in a whisper that made Zelda and me lean in to hear her, “Estelle saw the girl shoplifting. Estelle was right there in the square, just hanging out like she always did, when she looked over and saw Irene take a packet of women’s razors
