A Body in the Attic Read online

“Puddin!” bellowed Myrtle. “I asked you to clean up the mess, not exacerbate it! You’re making crumbs go everywhere.”

  Puddin gave her a resentful look. “Just doin’ my PT exercises, Miz Myrtle. Told you my back was thrown.”

  “What kind of second-rate physical therapist assigns exercises like that?” Myrtle gestured to the slouching Puddin.

  Puddin said with dignity, “I ain’t doin’ them right now. They go like this.” Then she attempted to demonstrate a movement that twisted her back into such a state that it was sure to be thrown if it hadn’t been already.

  “Stop,” said Myrtle fiercely. “I don’t have time right now for any of your nonsense and foolishness, Puddin. You’ll turn that TV off and clean up your mess and mine. I’m just here to get my purse.”

  Now Puddin looked wily. “Where you goin’?”

  “To eat breakfast with Miles.”

  Puddin said, “I could use some food right about now.”

  “Maybe that will motivate you to finish cleaning my house, if you tell yourself you’ll have lunch afterward. Besides, it sure looked like you were having a snack to me.” Myrtle grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

  Puddin said, “Dusty can’t pick me up for two hours, so I got time to kill. That’s another reason I’m just hangin’ out.”

  Myrtle gritted her teeth. Puddin and Dusty and their sundry unpredictable vehicles were a frequent issue. “You’re not suggesting you come to breakfast with Miles and me, are you?”

  Puddin said, “I got money. My dad gave me birthday money. I’ll pay for a breakfast biscuit for you, even.”

  Myrtle frowned. Puddin had a living father? She was a woman of very indeterminate age, but she was now having to re-evaluate her estimate downward. She was quite used to Puddin having birthdays, though. Puddin always seemed to have them several times a year and frequently gave them as an excuse not to work or to ask for small bonuses. She’d certainly never offered to buy Myrtle anything on any of the occasions.

  “Besides, I got information for you,” said Puddin, a crafty look on her face.

  “I’ll take you up on your offer, Puddin, but only if you understand when you come back, you’ve really got to clean this place up. It’s as bad as it’s ever been.”

  Puddin glanced around the room and gave a shrug as if she’d seen it worse. Then she struggled to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  “And you’ve got your purse?”

  Puddin waved a threadbare Hello Kitty bag at Myrtle and strode jauntily out the door, her thrown back just a memory.

  Miles somehow didn’t seem at all surprised to have an additional passenger in his car, much less Myrtle’s housekeeper. Perhaps, after the terrible shock of discovering Darren, he’d become immune to surprises. He took off for the diner as Puddin regaled them all with various colorful bits of gossip related to their neighbors’ yards and the states of their homes as revealed by Puddin, Dusty, and their coterie of yard and housekeeping friends.

  They settled into a booth at the diner and Puddin said expansively to Myrtle, “Get whatever you want!” as Myrtle picked up the laminated menu.

  “I thought the offer was limited to a breakfast biscuit,” said Myrtle.

  Puddin made an airy gesture. “Or somethin’ similar.” Her face darkened. “Maybe don’t get no egg Benedict or nothin’ like that.”

  “Thanks for clarifying my choices,” said Myrtle dryly.

  The waitress came up and Myrtle ordered a stack of three pancakes, which came in well under the breakfast sandwich price. Miles ordered eggs with a waffle. Puddin went all out with the “lumberjack breakfast,” a compilation of biscuits, pancakes, eggs, and sausage. Myrtle sincerely hoped Puddin wouldn’t choose this occasion to have a coronary event.

  After the food came, Myrtle decided to force a change of subject since Puddin was now starting to ramble about Dusty’s unforgiveable unhelpfulness in doing his own laundry.

  “Puddin,” said Myrtle in as commanding a voice as she could muster. “Tell us the information you have.”

  Puddin, trying to pivot from Dusty’s many shortcomings to the new subject, looked blankly at Myrtle.

  “You know,” said Myrtle impatiently. “You said you had information for me on the case.”

  Puddin’s face was doubtful. “Are you sure I said that, Miz Myrtle?”

  Myrtle scowled at her. “You know very well you told me that.”

  Miles polished off the rest of his eggs and asked, “Did you know Darren at all, Puddin?”

  Puddin puffed up proudly at being the source of information. “Sure, I did. Knew all about him, didn’t I? He was a good one.”

  “What made him a good one?” asked Miles.

  “He didn’t try to do his own housekeepin’. I mean, he kept his house very tidy, but he also used cleaners.” Puddin had clear prejudice against men who attempted to clean for themselves. She did exclude Miles from this group, only because he kept an incredibly neat house and because he occasionally invited Puddin over to clean for him.

  “How about Liam Hudson? Did you know him?” asked Myrtle.

  “That lawyer?” asked Puddin. She made a face. “Bitsy cleaned for him.”

  Bitsy was Puddin’s cousin and the source of much of Puddin’s information. She seemed to be a very canny observer and fond of gossip.

  “What did Bitsy have to say about him?” asked Myrtle curiously.

  Puddin snorted. “You wouldn’t think he’d be messy, would you? Always struttin’ around in them suits and ties. But he was. His house were always a mess.”

  Myrtle gave her a severe look. “This is not the kind of information I was looking for.”

  Puddin put her nose in the air. “If you know about people’s houses, you know about people.”

  “I certainly hope no one would judge me on the state of my house right now. Because its messiness is due to you, not me.”

  Puddin continued, scrunching up her face in thought. “Let’s see. Them others in your case? Like Tripp Whitley.”

  Miles frowned. “Orabelle and Tripp have someone to clean for them?”

  “Them?” Puddin shook her head. “Not much money there. But people talk about Tripp. Say he drinks too much, sees too many women, and plays loud music in the house sometimes.”

  “Wine, women, and song,” murmured Myrtle.

  Puddin gave her a suspicious look.

  Myrtle said, “Well, we’ve recently had a bit of insight into Tripp’s problems, so none of that is a surprise. What about Carter Radnor?”

  Puddin looked delighted. “Him is caught up in this?”

  Myrtle gave a shrug. “Who knows? Just wondered what you knew about him.”

  Puddin leaned in as if the gossip might spread to the four corners of the diner. “I hear he’s goin’ with that Orabelle.”

  “Going with?” Myrtle tried the unfamiliar words on her tongue and shook her head. “What on earth do you mean by that?”

  Puddin gave her a resentful look. “Like he’s steppin’ out with her.”

  “Dating?” asked Miles, helpfully trying to supply the vocabulary that might move the conversation along.

  Puddin nodded vigorously. “Just so.”

  Myrtle said, “Well, that was fast, if that’s true. He seemed to be only somewhat interested in Orabelle just the other day. What else do you know about him?”

  Puddin scowled. “Cleans his own house.”

  “Yes, yes. I know that’s an unforgiveable sin in your eyes for men to clean their own houses.” Myrtle glanced at Miles. “Present company excluded, apparently. Is there anything else of any sort of importance that you can think of? Maybe on Liam? I don’t know a whole lot about him.”

  “Didn’t pay his bills on time,” chirped up Puddin.

  “Didn’t he? Why on earth not? I’d think an attorney would have plenty of money to pay bills with.”

  Puddin’s eyes blazed. “Wasn’t fair! He didn’t pay Bitsy on time. And he was behind on his yard guy and everybody else.”
Puddin made an expansive gesture to indicate that Liam’s home help employees were legion.

  Miles frowned. “I wonder what he spent his money on.”

  “Cars,” said Puddin instantly. “Him had a bunch of fancy cars.”

  Myrtle scoffed. “A bad choice, for sure. Why would anyone want or need fancy cars in Bradley?”

  Miles said, “I believe it’s considered a viable hobby by some.”

  “Collecting cars?” As someone who didn’t even own a single car, Myrtle had a hard time grasping this concept.

  “The cars was old, too.” Puddin did not look impressed.

  “Old or classic?” asked Miles.

  Puddin squinted her eyes at him. “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” said Miles. It would take too much effort to try and explain.

  “Well, that’s all very interesting,” said Myrtle.

  “Told you I knew stuff,” muttered Puddin as she dug in her Hello Kitty purse. A few moments later, there was a pile of quarters and dimes on the table as Puddin carefully counted out the amount needed to cover the bill.

  Miles, glancing at the bill and the pile of change, quickly said, “How about if I cover the tip for the three of us?”

  Puddin looked as if the word tip was quite foreign to her. Miles hastily put a swath of dollar bills on the coins.

  Myrtle said, “Thank you, Puddin. That was a very tasty meal.”

  “And very good information,” prompted Puddin.

  “Yes. And now you need to go clean my house. I really won’t be able to tolerate it if it stays in its current condition.” Myrtle stood up and headed out of the diner.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the car on the way back to Myrtle’s, Puddin said in a wheedling voice, “You know, Miz Myrtle, it’s easier for me to clean if you ain’t there.”

  “I’m sure it is easier. You don’t have anyone telling you not to watch game shows instead of vacuum.”

  Puddin persisted stubbornly, “It ain’t easy cleanin’ up with somebody staring at you.”

  Myrtle sighed and looked out the passenger window as if trying to find where her patience had gone. Then she leaned forward. “That’s Carter Radnor.”

  Sure enough, Carter was walking down the sidewalk with a small dog of indeterminate heritage.

  Miles glanced over, “Looks like he’s headed to the park.”

  Puddin said craftily, “You could meet him in the park an’ ask him questions.”

  “All right. Miles, let’s plan on accosting Carter in the park. Puddin, you plan on making my house sparkle.”

  This agreed upon, Myrtle and Miles headed to the park as soon as Puddin was dropped off at Myrtle’s house. The park was right in the center of downtown and a popular place for the town to gather. It was directly across from an excellent ice cream shop, a happy coincidence many people took advantage of. There was a climbing wall for children, paths to walk on, and benches on which to sit. Myrtle and Miles decided to sit.

  “You think Carter will come by this way?” asked Miles as they plopped onto a wooden bench with an excellent view of both the paths and downtown Bradley.

  “His car is right there.” Myrtle gestured to an elderly Cadillac that was parallel parked yards away.

  So they sat and waited. Sure enough, twenty minutes later up came Carter with the little dog.

  “Well, hi there,” said Carter, pausing in front of them. “I didn’t see y’all here before.”

  “Oh, we decided to hang out after having breakfast at the diner,” said Myrtle airily.

  The little dog, an odd mixture of a bushy chin, droopy ears, and a wiry tail, came up to Myrtle and sniffed curiously. Myrtle reached out and petted it.

  Carter beamed at her. “Crystal has really taken to you, Myrtle! She doesn’t take to everyone.”

  She didn’t, in fact, seem to have taken to Miles. Miles gave the dog a wary look and Crystal showed a few teeth.

  “Yes, well, animals do tend to be drawn to me.” She looked up at Carter and said, “My, you’re dressed up for walking the dog.”

  He turned a bit pink, which made Myrtle raise her eyebrows.

  “Ah, I thought I might run into Orabelle here,” he murmured, taking great interest in a rather sickly-looking gardenia bush.

  “Does Orabelle usually hang out in the park?” asked Myrtle. “I thought she’d be delivering mail now.”

  Carter next gave a soliloquy on Orabelle’s daily schedule and routine involving lunch that made it very clear his interest in her couldn’t be too recent.

  Miles said, “So you’re planning on meeting up with her?”

  Carter sighed. “That’s the ironic thing. She always follows the same routine. But today, when Charlie and I are all dressed up for Orabelle, she’s not here.”

  Myrtle almost gave him a mini-lecture in what irony actually was. But she decided not to when she saw his dejected expression. Instead, she looked closer at the rather-unattractive little dog who was giving her a snarling smile and saw she did indeed have a bow on.

  “Forgive me, Carter, but I somehow thought you’d always harbored a bit of affection for Pansy.” Myrtle used her best nosy-but-harmless-old-lady voice.

  Carter flushed again and looked away. “To be honest, I’m really angry at myself for pursuing Pansy for so long. Even you know about it, Myrtle. The whole town must have thought I was making a fool of myself.”

  Miles cleared his throat. “I don’t think anyone knew, Carter. Myrtle just is very perceptive.”

  Carter sighed. “Nice of you to try to make me feel better, Miles. But I’m well aware of how obvious I was when I was trying to get Pansy’s attention. It was almost like a bad habit I’d fallen into and it kept me from seeing the big picture.”

  “And the big picture has Orabelle in it?” asked Myrtle.

  Carter shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not sure. But it’s an idea I’d like to pursue and see where it leads me. She’s a nice woman and has always been very thoughtful. She’d chat with me sometimes when she delivered my mail and I was always so caught up with Pansy that I didn’t really appreciate my conversations with Orabelle. I’m trying to change that now, if it’s not too late.”

  Myrtle said, “I hope it works out. I do like Orabelle.” She paused and then implemented a radical change of subject. “And I was so sorry to hear about Liam Hudson.”

  Carter blinked at the rapid shift in topic. “Liam Hudson?”

  “You were friends, I believe.”

  Carter shook his head slowly. “I don’t know him. That is, I know of him. But only that he’s a local lawyer.”

  “You didn’t have a recent violent argument with him?” asked Myrtle sweetly.

  Carter colored again, but this time with anger. “What? Who said I did?”

  “I don’t really remember,” prevaricated Myrtle. Old age was a useful thing when it came to excuses. People seemed to have such low expectations of one’s capabilities.

  “I did not have a violent argument with Liam Hudson. I barely even knew who the guy was. I probably wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a lineup. Why on earth would I have killed him?”

  Myrtle said, “Well then, that’s settled. It sounds like you were doing something else while Liam was killed. Right?”

  “I certainly wasn’t killing Liam at the time. But there I go again, not knowing when I might need an alibi. I really need to do a better job with that. I was at home with Charlie. Sleeping. And Charlie is quite the bed hog, too.” He looked down and Charlie grinned up at Carter with her snaggle-toothed grin. “So that’s it. Charlie is my alibi.”

  Carter looked glumly around him. “Well, I suppose I should be getting along home. Orabelle is definitely not here. Hope the two of you have a good day.”

  Charlie trotted ahead of Carter to the car and they left.

  Myrtle and Miles sat thoughtfully on the bench, watching him drive off.

  “I sure hope he doesn’t chase Orabelle as much as he did Pansy,” said Miles.
/>   “Ditto. Although I don’t have much hope considering what we just saw. He was awfully spiffy looking for his walk in the park.”

  Miles said, “And even dressed Charlie up.”

  Myrtle made a face. “Hard to make that dog pretty. But she seems sweet. I guess.”

  “What now?” asked Miles as Myrtle stood up and balanced for a moment on her cane.

  “Now? We head back to my house to make sure the Nefarious Puddin didn’t just lounge around and eat up my junk food instead of cleaning up the house.”

  But Puddin had apparently pulled herself together and done some cleaning before Dusty picked her up. The house, although not exactly sparkling, was definitely a lot better than it had been and even had a light, lemony scent to it.

  Myrtle beamed at the dustless surfaces. “Excellent!” She did a quick walkabout and saw that, although not perfect, everything seemed a lot better than it was.

  “Have you already done the crossword today?” asked Myrtle.

  Miles nodded, but pulled a carefully-folded bit of paper out of his pocket. “I thought I might give the Sudoku a go today, though.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “That’s adventurous of you. I remember the last time you tackled the Sudoku you said it stymied you.”

  “Yes, but it was a five-star puzzle. As a novice, I should never have attempted that.” Miles settled onto the sofa and took a book off Myrtle’s coffee table to put under the puzzle. She handed him a pencil.

  “What’s the level of the puzzle today?”

  “Two-stars. I should be able to handle that,” said Miles, although his expression was less than confident.

  “Just don’t tear the puzzle into tiny bits if you get frustrated like last time. I don’t want anything messing up my house from its currently pristine state.” Myrtle got out the crossword puzzle book from Perkins to pick up where she left off. She frowned at the puzzle.

  Miles asked, “How are your puzzles going?”

  “These make the ones in the Bradley newspaper look like children’s games. These are cryptic, where the clues are deliberately obtuse and just hint at the answers. Each clue is a puzzle, itself. They might be anagrams or homophones or hidden words.”