I was instructed to leave a note on Gertrude’s door, and then buy several different kinds of cookies and snack cakes. When I got back to the Alpine Side, Gertrude was waiting in the hallway outside 317. She was holding a large beach bag filled with what looked like linen. When I opened the door she pushed past me and began setting the dining room table.
	I started the tea preparations and began setting the cookies out on the serving platter I found.  It matched the tea set above the oven, so I figured it had to be the correct call. Gertrude had peeked in the kitchen and said nothing, I took that as a seal of approval. Just as the tea kettle began to whistle the first knock came at the door. Gertrude was butler and stood at the door welcoming each tea guest one by one. 
	Each guest showed up without escort, and dressed in their Sunday Best. The first lady who showed up even had on white gloves. The last time I had seen so many well dressed elderly I was at church.
	There was a total of three women and one man not counting Gertrude, Dorthy or myself. After I set the tea to seep in the teapot I went in to check on Mrs. Izato. She was dressed in a pink suit with a pastel floral blouse underneath, a matching pink pillbox hat was affixed on her head. She sat down in the wheelchair that generally hid behind the door in the corner. And I wheeled her out to the table in the spot Gertrude left intentionally for her.
	Gertrude carried the platter of treats while I carried out the teapot and cups. There was a total of seven teacups in the set, I just brought them all out.
	The man scoffed at the teacups, “She’s not sitting in is she?”
	“She’s not even dressed.” the woman with the white gloves complained.
	Gertrude interrupted the complaints, “Dorthy called this meeting. If she wants to include the Help, then so be it. You know the rules, the hostess is infallible.”
	“Thank you.” Dorthy said and then cleared her throat. “As you know there’s been two deaths on the property in a small span of time. This in itself is not unusual, this is after all a retirement community.”
	The group nodded in agreement.
	Dorthy continued, “Odell Martin swore up and down she saw a man come out of Jeremy Macleve’s room. The night Gus Whiticar died, I was bumped into by a man rushing down the hallway towards the mail elevator. That’s how I had my so called fall, I was bumped into with such force that I was spun around and tried to catch my balance, twisted my shoulder somehow and ended up in the hospital.” Dorthy pointed at me, “This one right here found out it was John Smith who bum rushed me. Now why would he be down here on the third floor? Were the elevators broken that day? Was there some kind of malfunction, or reason he would be on a floor other than his own?”
	“How did she know it was him?” the man accused.
	“His dog gave him away.” Dorthy quipped. “She didn’t know it was him, but I know. There’s only one man here with a King Charles Spaniel.”