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asked me the same thing over and over again; it was awful,” I said, when we had both taken our seats.
    Mr. Buttons leaned closer to me. “I earlier drew a tarot card,” he said, tapping his pocket, “and it was the Justice card, reversed. That means someone will be falsely accused.”
     

“My dog is half pit bull, half poodle. Not much of a watchdog, but a vicious gossip!"
(Craig Shoemaker)
    Chapter Five .
     
    I was thumbing through my iPhone, looking at Facebook, when Cressida reappeared. Her interview had taken a long time. A wave of relief washed over me; I could finally leave the police station.
    I looked up as Cressida walked toward me, her heels clicking loudly on the hard tile. I jumped to my feet and met her halfway. “There you are! I was starting to worry that they had booked you.” My smile fell as I studied Cressida's face. “Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, Cressida. What happened? Are you okay?”
    Cressida quickly covered her mouth to stifle a sob.
    “Oh, I'm sorry!” I said. “I’ve said the wrong thing.”
    “It's not you. It's just -” Cressida pulled away and rummaged in her purse, producing a package of tissues.
    I took her by the shoulders as she tried to clean up, leading her toward the doors.
    Cressida burst into tears. “The poor man,” she said through her sobs. “This was among the worst days of my life. I’ve had about as much as I can take.”
    “Are you going to be okay?” I asked as we turned out onto the street. The sun was shining, and people were going about their day. It seemed strange how the world carried on as normal when various individuals’ lives were in turmoil.
    “Yes.” Cressida nodded. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, straightening her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sibyl.”
    “Don't apologize. Let’s go and have coffee.”
    “I don’t know. I don’t want to be out in public, but then again, I don’t want to go home if the police are still there. I can’t go through this again, Sibyl; I just can’t!” Cressida dabbed at her eyes again, before bursting into a fresh flood of tears. “My house is a crime scene – again. Who’s going to want to stay in a boarding house where tenants have been poisoned? I can't do this again; I just can't!”
    “Hey, everything's going to be okay.” I patted her shoulder. “Come on, coffee will make you feel better.”
    Cressida sighed in resignation. “Okay. Let’s go to the café right down the south end of town; not so many locals go there.”
    It only took us minutes to walk there, and I guided Cressida to a quiet corner booth of the café, away from the main mob of people chatting away or frowning over their phones. Over in one corner was someone with a table covered with notebooks and folders, tapping away at a keyboard. It was all so normal. I thought again how easily the world carried on when a crisis happened.
    The waitress at once came to take our orders. I indicated that Cressida should order first, but she raked both hands through her hair and doubled over in her seat. I was starving, so ordered an iced mocha with plenty of whipped cream, and a double espresso for Cressida. She looked like she needed one.
    As for food, I had no idea what Cressida wanted, so I went for the sugar option. “Two blueberry cheesecakes, please.”
    The waitress scribbled the order on her notepad. “Ice cream or cream?”
    I nodded. “Yes.”
    “Which one?”
    “Both, please,” I said, raising my eyebrows. What kind of place was this?
    Neither of us spoke until the waitress returned. “Here we go!” she said, making Cressida jump in her seat.
    I laughed. “Looks like I made a good call on the double shot of espresso. You were really zoned out.”
    “They found it in the quail and the salad,” Cressida said.
    I was puzzled. “What do you mean?” I spooned a large measure of cream off the top of the iced mocha and popped it into my mouth.
    “They found it in the quail,” Cressida repeated. “The hemlock; it was in