A Body in the Attic Read online

  Myrtle gave Red a pitying look. “Red, you can’t return shoes that have been worn. They’d be scuffed.”

  “No, she’d have had to have sold them,” said Erma triumphantly, making her hopefully-final point. “And you can do that so many places online. She must have sold all those shoes to try to get money to eat!”

  Red patiently asked, “You think she’s having trouble paying for food?”

  “Of course she is! I’ve seen her in the Piggly-Wiggly myself and she’s simply loaded down with coupons and counting out loose change in the checkout line. No one wants to stand in line behind her because she takes so long to pay.”

  Red nodded encouragingly again and Myrtle shot him a look, which seemed to puzzle Red. “Okay, Erma. Got it.”

  “And I promised I’d loan her my library copy of the graphic novel we’re reading this month because she didn’t want to buy it.” Erma grinned with a complete lack of modesty at her altruism.

  “Good for you,” said Myrtle. “And now, not to be rude, but I’m going to ask both of you to leave. I need to get some sleep.”

  “Subtle, Mama.” Red stood up and said to Erma, “I’ll make sure you make it inside all right.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him again and they finally left.

  After her nocturnal visits, Myrtle had a hard time falling asleep. She muttered under her breath at Red and Erma as she tossed and turned in her bed, unable to find a comfortable spot. She finally fell into a fitful sleep right around the time the sun was coming up. Thirty minutes later, she woke again and sullenly gave up and got ready for her day.

  Her mood had decidedly not improved by the time Miles ended up at her house. He was also in a very chipper mood, which made Myrtle even more surly.

  “You must have slept well last night,” growled Myrtle.

  Miles said, “Like a baby.”

  Myrtle said, “You know, actually, babies don’t sleep very well at all. They wake up every few hours to eat.”

  “Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. I think I’ve already put on a pound or two from Elaine’s baking.”

  Myrtle nodded. “Elaine’s hobbies are always dangerous, usually just for different reasons.” She sighed and looked at the clock. “We should go ahead and head out. I think staying busy today is going to be key for me to power through the day and get done with it.”

  Miles looked a bit trepidatious. Myrtle in a bad mood was something to behold. “Are you sure you just don’t want to try to take a nap? We’re not on any kind of schedule here, after all.”

  “There’s no point my trying to sleep in the daytime when I couldn’t even do it in the middle of the night.” Myrtle glared at her living room, illuminated by the light streaming through her sheer curtains. “You know, this place is seriously dusty. Everything needs to be wiped down and the whole house vacuumed so it doesn’t light right back on the furniture again. So, instead of simply wasting my bad mood, I’m going to call Puddin and get her to come out here and take care of this.”

  “Poor Puddin,” murmured Miles as Myrtle found her phone and tapped impatiently on the arm of her chair as she waited for the housekeeper to pick up.

  “Puddin,” she said peremptorily. “I need your help.”

  “Back is thrown,” said Puddin automatically.

  “I need you to catch it then, and put yourself together. This house is a disgrace. Miles agrees with me.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows as he glanced around the living room. Everything was in its place. He shrugged.

  Puddin gave a gusty sigh. “Miz Myrtle, today ain’t a good day. Seein’ my cousin Bitsy and she and I are gonna go to the movies.”

  “Maybe Bitsy can help you clean my place up. It would go faster that way,” said Myrtle. Bitsy may also be somewhat more motivated than Puddin. Puddin’s usual routine was to lackadaisically shove the vacuum around before plopping with exhaustion onto Myrtle’s sofa to watch morning game shows.

  This idea of enlisting Bitsy seemed to appeal to Puddin. “Yeah. Maybe Bitsy could do it.” She paused. “You could pay both of us.”

  “I certainly could not. I want my house clean and I was only making suggestions on how that could possibly take place. I’m paying the same amount regardless of who does it.”

  Puddin grouchily said, “All right. I’ll come around later.”

  “And I might not be here, so do you still have your key?”

  There was another pause. “Yeah.”

  It didn’t inspire confidence. “Make sure you have it before you come over.” Myrtle hung up and shook her head. “Complete nonsense. All the time.”

  Just the same, she felt a little more cheerful. Even more so when Miles suggested that they go to the diner for breakfast. “We’re always there for lunch,” he said. “I think breakfast there is their best meal of the day.”

  Myrtle thought fondly of the diner’s pecan pancakes with whipped cream. It was practically dessert, although she wouldn’t classify it that way since it was on the breakfast menu. The thought of a happy sugar high in her future, complete with the sweet coffee the diner served, made her feel practically jaunty. So it was with a bounce in her step that she followed Miles up Pansy’s walkway to her front door.

  Miles rang the doorbell and no one answered. He paled a bit, hesitated, then cautiously rang the bell again as if the doorbell might shock him somehow.

  They waited for a minute. Myrtle grew impatient, the visions of sugary pancakes no longer dancing in her head. She rapped on the front door and listened for sounds of life.

  “I can’t do it,” said Miles, shaking his head. “I’m no first responder, Myrtle. I simply can’t happen upon another body first thing in the morning this soon after the last one.”

  “Nonsense. Pansy should have the good sense not to be dead right now. It’s horrid timing. As I mentioned, she’s a fairly silly woman, but she does seem to have reasonable common sense when it comes to timing. I bet you anything that she’s either in her shower or in her backyard. Let’s check out the backyard.”

  Miles was relieved she’d suggested checking out the backyard and not the shower.

  Myrtle gripped her cane and used it to push down into the somewhat cushy grass as she strode around the side of the house. “Pansy!” she barked as she went. “Pansy Denham!”

  Pansy, spotted with what looked like potting soil and holding a spade, greeted them at the gate to her backyard. She looked startled. “Yes? Myrtle? Miles? What is it?”

  Myrtle quickly transformed, giving Pansy a sweet smile. “Oh, Miles and I were just in the neighborhood, weren’t we Miles?”

  Miles gave an apologetic grin. “Yes. That’s right.”

  “Miles was driving by your house and we were thinking that we wanted to share some of Elaine’s baked goods with you.” Myrtle gave Miles a prompting shove with her elbow.

  Miles frowned. “Oops. I left the biscuits and pastries in the car.” He hurried off to remedy the situation and Myrtle resumed her sunny smile, beaming at Pansy.

  “Sorry about that. Miles can be rather vapid until he’s had enough coffee. But how are you, dear? Everything going all right? Did you enjoy our little book club meeting?”

  Pansy, regaining her composure after being summoned so abruptly from her garden, quickly said, “Oh, yes. Yes. What a lovely group of ladies. And it was so exciting to be talking about books.”

  “Yes,” said Myrtle, although the word was imbued with doubt. “I’m sure it was. We were all so glad to have you there.”

  “And I appreciate the baked goods. Were those Elaine’s goodies that were at book club?”

  Myrtle nodded, smiling. “They sure were. She makes amazing breads and pies and cakes. The only problem is the amazing calories that come along with them. Red and I are trying to share the wealth with others.” She heard the car door close and realized Miles was on his way back. Time to ask any sensitive questions—the type that someone like Pansy may not want to answer in front of someone like Miles. “By the way,
and I do hope you won’t think this too forward of me, Pansy, but I noticed at the funeral how fond Carter Radnor is of you.”

  Pansy looked a little flustered. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “It was completely obvious,” said Myrtle firmly.

  Pansy paused. “The truth is, Myrtle, that I don’t really know what to do about it. I mean, he’s a very kind man. Of course I was a little uncomfortable with his attentions when I was seeing Darren because I didn’t want Darren to think there was anything there.”

  “And there wasn’t,” said Myrtle, a slight question in her voice.

  “Oh no. No. At least, not on my end. I think Carter, when he was widowed you know, I think he just didn’t know what to do. His wife had been his whole life and he’d known her since they were in school together. He was used to living with someone and didn’t know how to live on his own.”

  “Hmm,” said Myrtle. She generally disapproved of people who didn’t understand how to live on their own, considering how many years she’d managed to successfully do it herself.

  Pansy added helpfully, “And it wasn’t just the emotional toll of being without a partner in the house. He’d call me up sometimes and ask how to do simple cooking or laundry tasks.”

  Myrtle grunted at this. She spotted Miles heading toward them clutching the food and gave a quick shake of her head. Miles stopped and proceeded to take a good deal of interest in Pansy’s birdfeeders.

  “So maybe he just sort of latched onto me in a way,” Pansy shrugged.

  Myrtle didn’t think it sounded like a very wonderful arrangement for Pansy to be enlisted as Carter’s household helper. But there had seemed to be something else there, too.

  “It seemed to me, though, that Carter is genuinely fond of you,” said Myrtle.

  Pansy nodded slowly. “Yes, I think so. I’ve just tried hard not to think about it.”

  “It’s not returned, then.”

  “Goodness, no. I just think of Carter as a friend.”

  Myrtle said, “Sort of a needy friend.”

  “Yes.” Pansy considered something for a few moments and then added, “There is something. I hate to say it because Carter has always been so sweet.”

  Just the sort of information that Myrtle was itching to hear. “Oh?”

  “It’s just that Carter has been different lately. Not really different with me, but different with other people.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Different in what way?” Myrtle felt like getting information from Pansy was like pulling teeth.

  “Volatile? Is that the right word? Maybe just cranky. Like I said, it was never with me, but with other people. You know . . . I told you at book club that Carter and Darren had argued right before Darren died.” Pansy looked down and blinked when she mentioned Darren’s death.

  Myrtle hurried her on. For one thing, she certainly didn’t want Pansy to dissolve into tears. For another, Miles was starting to look restless near the birdfeeders. Plus, there was a chickadee who appeared to be taking offense at the fact Miles was in its flight path. “That’s right. You said they were arguing over you?”

  Pansy blushed. “I believe it was about me, yes. Carter didn’t think Darren was worthy of me. Silly, of course, but that’s what he kept telling me. Darren mentioned something about Carter ranting at him to treat me better.”

  Myrtle frowned. “Was Darren unworthy of you? Did he treat you poorly?” When Myrtle thought of Darren, she thought of a crusty old man occupied with chess and reading. Could he have hidden depths?

  “No, no. No, he never treated me poorly. But sometimes, he wanted time to himself.” Pansy’s voice still reflected the hurt she felt from this. “I didn’t ever really understand that. I wanted to spend all my time with Darren. I wanted to share everything with him—what TV shows I was watching, what my life was like growing up.”

  Poor Darren. Myrtle tried to summon a sympathetic look, but had the feeling she was utterly failing in the process. No wonder Darren wanted to escape sometimes. Myrtle felt very much the same way now.

  “Once or twice I may have called Carter to complain about Darren,” said Pansy, looking a bit regretful. “Thinking back, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. But he was always so sympathetic and told me I deserved better, and when I called him, I ended up feeling much better about myself.”

  “And Carter felt upset at Darren,” said Myrtle.

  Pansy nodded. “I guess so. But that wasn’t the reason I told him about Darren. I just wanted to have a sympathetic ear.”

  Pansy had gobs of girlfriends she could have told her sob story to. Myrtle found it distasteful that she’d chosen to share it with the man who wanted to be involved with her.

  Pansy added slowly, “I was wondering, Myrtle, if there was something you’d heard about. When I came outside to go gardening, my neighbor mentioned to me that she heard from a friend that Liam Hudson was dead.”

  And such was the gossip trajectory of Bradley.

  Myrtle said, “I’m afraid so.”

  Pansy hesitated. “It’s sort of odd, but I saw Carter and Liam together in town just recently. At the diner, which is real close to Liam’s office, I think.”

  Myrtle knit her brows. “Was that odd?”

  “It was odd just because Carter didn’t seem very happy.” She quickly added, “But he’s an insurance agent and Liam was a lawyer. They probably just had regular business together, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe so.”

  Pansy said, “I’d sort of wondered if maybe Liam had something to do with Darren’s death.” She gave a short laugh. “Not that I had any proof or anything like that. But you said Darren mentioned him right before he died. And then, with those clippings missing?” She shrugged.

  Myrtle was less-interested in this since she already knew about Liam’s sketchy past. Liam’s death had, anyway, certainly made him less of a suspect. She switched gears. Miles, exhausted with the bird-watching in Pansy’s yard, gave her a look and she motioned him over. “Pansy, I did have one thing to ask you. I did, as a matter of fact, have a chance to speak with Liam before his untimely demise.”

  “Oh?”

  “I did. And one thing Liam pointed out was that Darren was dismayed at the friends and family who asked him for money after the sale of his painting.” Myrtle gave Pansy an innocent look. “I was surprised to hear that. Do you think Liam was telling the truth?”

  Pansy flushed. “Darren and I didn’t talk a lot about money.”

  Myrtle said, “You know, Miles can corroborate that until I found money in a pocket, I was very tight on funds until Friday when my check comes in.”

  Miles nodded.

  Myrtle said, “If anyone understands about money being tight, a retired schoolteacher does.”

  Pansy gave her a considering look. She sighed. “It’s been a lot tighter than it used to be. I had some medical issues a couple of years ago and I didn’t think they’d have the impact on my finances that they did. But wow . . . they really knocked me low. So I might have asked Darren to float me a loan just to get some of the bills paid.” She frowned. “I’d tried everything else first before I asked him. I sold some of my things. I even took on a part-time job.”

  Myrtle had a vague recollection of Pansy greeting her at the receptionist desk of the local vet when she’d taken Pasha in for shots.

  Myrtle said, “But it didn’t get you over the hump? You asked Darren for help.”

  Pansy said, “I did.” She made a face and laughed ruefully. “He didn’t take it well. I guess he’d had too many people making pitches for money by that point.”

  Myrtle asked, “So he was . . . what? Defensive? Belligerent?”

  “No. No, just sort of sad. Like he thought everyone was just looking at him like a human wallet instead of looking at him like he was Darren. It’s funny, but even though he was turning me down, I ended up feeling sorry for him.” She shook her head. Then she looked longingly at her row of flowers she’d been weeding.

 
Miles held up the bags. “Should I just put the breads on the patio furniture?”

  Pansy gave him a grateful look. “That would be wonderful. Thanks so much. By the way, I really enjoyed the book club meeting. Everyone was so kind. And it’s been a reminder of just how much I miss reading. Reading again is like meeting up with an old friend.”

  This statement made Myrtle slightly more enamored with Pansy. She said expansively, “I have many wonderful books at home that you’re more than welcome to borrow. Although I always come back for my books.”

  Miles nodded wryly. “I can attest to that. Just return them within a reasonable amount of time or you’ll have an agitated Myrtle on your doorstep.”

  "Thanks for the offer . . . I’d love to have a few good books to read next. And thanks to the two of you for coming by.”

  A minute later, they were getting back into Miles’s car. “Breakfast?” he asked. His stomach growled on cue.

  Myrtle nodded. Then she frowned. “Oh, pooh. I don’t seem to have my purse.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “That’s quite an omission for you. You’re sort of like Queen Elizabeth with that thing—it’s always dangling from your arm.”

  Myrtle was aggravated. “Well, I was dangling the grocery bags of bread so I guess I didn’t notice it wasn’t there.”

  Miles’s stomach prompted him again to head to the diner. “You could just pay me back later.”

  “No, no. I want to pay upfront. It’s never good to take a loan from a friend. You see how it messed Pansy up.”

  “It wouldn’t be a loan. You’d pay me back ten minutes after we left the diner.” Miles sighed as he saw the stubborn set of Myrtle’s chin. “Never mind. We’ll swing by your house for a minute. It’s practically on the way.”

  Soon after, he pulled into Myrtle’s driveway and she hopped out, striding to her front door. When she opened it, she was greeted by the sight of Puddin sprawled on her sofa, eating chips and watching a very noisy game show.

  The housekeeper’s eyes grew wide in her pale face and she struggled to sit up.