Murder in Wonderland by Leslie Leigh

I know he did."
                  "You can’t prove it, Jennifer, now stop it."
                  "Stood there with a smoking gun in his hand and tried to tell us that some intruder had come and shot at it."
                  "There was no smoking gun. Anyway, you hated that cat."
                  "Just because I hated the cat doesn't mean it deserved to get shot. He was drinking something awful that day. I smelled it on his breath that day in the barn."
                  "You're creeping out our guest, Jennifer, now silence!"
                  Allie slurped her coffee loudly. Both girls turned to her.
                  "I'm sorry," she said, putting a napkin to her mouth.
                  "Try a cookie," said Jenny. "I made them myself."
                  "They're from a mix," corrected her sister.
                  "A mix, whatever. I still made them myself."
                  Allie took a cookie and bit into it, finding that she didn’t have enough saliva in her mouth to process the bite. This was nervous business, dealing with someone she suspected was the murderer of a woman in cold blood, and in her very own house. She washed the dry bite down with another slug of coffee while Jill picked up the Mason jar and brought it back into the kitchen, grabbing a small sugar bowl to bring to the table in its place.
                  Allie saw this opening in the conversation as her only chance before things got any more awkward than they already were. "I've been trying to understand what went on while I was out of the room," she said, fingering the ring handle of her coffee cup. "I don’t want this to sound like an investigation, but could either of you tell me what happened right before Tori fell down?"
                  It was Jill who spoke first. "I remember she got up, mumbled something, and she had her phone in her hand. She looked confused, incoherent." She shrugged. "And then she collapsed and knocked aside your table."
                  Allie stared at the woman for a moment. She'd heard about this technique that interviewers use, staying silent for a moment after someone finishes talking. She'd seen Diane Sawyer do it.
                  It worked, for Jill Metzger continued. "Tea went flying everywhere."
                  "Oh, there was tea everywhere," said Jenny. "That's what I remember. Like it was in slow motion. All that tea. We had a hand-loomed rug. Remember that one in the playroom that Daddy brought back from India? Jilly threw up all over it. When we were little, of course. And that was the end of that. We got such a beating for it. Neither one of us would tell. That's all I could think of when I saw that tea splatter everywhere. I thought, 'that rug can be thrown out now.’"
                  Jill nodded, apparently embarrassed by her sister.
                  "It was relatively easy to clean," said Allie. "Salt and club soda. Patience."
                  "Well, aren’t you the resourceful one?" said Jill, a half-smile attempting, and failing, to hide the irritation on her face.
                  Allie rose from her chair. "Ok, so she gets up like this. She's got the phone in her hand. Collapse. What was going on right before that?"
                  "Well," said Jill, "you went out of the room at that point I think."
                  "That's right. You'd asked me for some honey for the tea."
                  "Is that so? I guess I did. I don’t remember much about what happened before the girl...it was a terrible sight."
                  "I understand. Well then, I want to thank both of you."
                  "It was our pleasure," said Jenny. "You should come over more often."
                  On the way out, Allie employed the tactic she'd