Dear diary, Today was like a day unlike any other. So many events!

But perhaps what intrigues me most would be the mysterious death of Mr. Maloney. Let me start from the beginning. Today should have been a happy day. A new stock of south china pork was due to arrive and I just signed a contract to supply the landlords wedding feast! Late in the morning, I was talking to Arnold, a regular customer when the topic about Patrick Maloney, our senior police officer came up. Rumour has it that he is keeping a mistress in south Canada! After that, the day dragged on without any more customers, until evening when I was closing the shop. The wind chimes on my shop door grinded out an incomprehensible sonata as a wideeyed Mrs. Maloney lumbered in. But she looked slightly off. Her left eyelid was twitching and jumping crazily like a Mexican jumping jack, and her hands were quivering with such ferocity that I could feel the vibrations radiating from them. I dismissed that as the result of walking in the harsh biting cold without gloves. Hullo Sam, she had said brightly and of course, being a true gentleman, I replied politely. Apparently, she had asked for peas and potatoes. The usual, although I had to say she was pretty late today! Of course, it hadnt struck me that she was supposed to be out eating with her husband today until she said it herself! This was weird I thought. They usually go out on Thursdays regardless of rain or snow, hail or sleet, war or fires. So what exactly happened today? But I was not the type to pry into others businesses, and so I asked if she wanted meat. She declined my offer saying shes got a leg of a lamb at home. As far as I remembered, she bought two Idaho potatoes and an extra slice of cheesecake, and that was it. Mrs Maloney left with a brighter than usual smile on her face. However, after an hour, when I was pulling down the shutters of my store, two men in blue uniform came trotting in my direction. They radiated an air of capability and authority, and as they came closer, I saw the police insignia on their helmets. They were policemen. I instantly freaked out. Had I done something wrong? Was my meat poisoned? These thoughts flew like hot air balloons through my mind as one of them rested his palm on my shoulder. Then, surprisingly, he proceeded to ask me a string of questions about Mrs. Maloney and they asked if I knew Patrick Maloney was dead, murdered. I was taken aback. Patrick and the word dead didnt fit well together. Patrick was tough as any old bull I have cut and chopped! He couldnt be murdered! And what was worse was that the police officers told me that there were no superficial wounds! Must be a supernatural death! But I played the word Maloney in my mind, and I stumbled upon a conclusion. Right there and then, I knew why Mrs. Maloney had been so nervous and shell-shocked when she visited my store. She played a part in Patricks death. I was sure. But somehow, something kept me snitching on her, partly for the fact that I would be dead if she knew that I knew. So I played real dumb and told the police nothing was suspicious about her. Imagine this! My first conversation with a police officer, and I lied!

Well diary, sometimes things like that happen. I no its no business of mine, but I get a feeling that I should have just told the truth. But I am sure this will die down once summer returns and customers start coming back. Good night!