A Body in the Attic Read online

  Pasha ate all the tuna Myrtle put out while Myrtle answered several more clues on the puzzle. Then the cat decided to curl up in Myrtle’s lap in the living room. This was an occasional, but always unexpected treat from the feral animal. Myrtle turned on the television and pulled up her recorded shows. There was a British police series that seemed good.

  However, the series was too good and Myrtle was far too comfortable in the chair with Pasha’s furry warmth. The hours passed and Myrtle watched show after show. She was convinced she knew the identity of the show’s murder and was determined to watch until they uncovered the truth and her suspicion was finally validated.

  So it was quite late and Myrtle was quite startled when there was a knock on the door. Myrtle frowned, pulling her robe closer around her as she headed to the door.

  Pasha was even more startled and instantly hopped down, fur puffing out. Her eyes narrowed at the door.

  “It’s probably Miles,” Myrtle said in a comforting voice to the cat. Pasha crept over to stand behind a chair and peered menacingly from the side. It didn’t bode well for Miles, if it was indeed Miles at the door.

  But it wasn’t. It was Pansy.

  Myrtle hesitated and then opened the door just a crack. First Erma, now Pansy. Really, it was unforgiveable that people were trying to horn in on her insomnia.

  Pansy winced and smiled at her apologetically. “Sorry, Myrtle. I couldn’t sleep tonight and decided to go for a walk. I saw all your lights were on and know you frequently stay up late.”

  Myrtle said with dignity, “I don’t stay up late. I have insomnia.” Although tonight was definitely a case of staying up late, Pansy didn’t need to know that. “And I’m terribly sorry, Pansy, but I was just about to try to turn in.” Behind her, Pasha gave a low growl and a shiver went up Myrtle’s spine.

  Pansy said brightly, “Oh, this will only take a second, I promise. I’d just love to borrow that book you mentioned. You know, now that I’m getting back into reading after all this time.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure that I mentioned a specific book. Just that I had a lot of good ones. But finding one that will be a good match for you may take time and tomorrow would be better for that.” She glanced through the door at the darkness beyond. “You’re really very brave to be walking around out there with a murderer on the loose.” Although Myrtle nearly substituted stupid for brave.

  Pansy shrugged and said, “I guess, although I feel better holding this flashlight. After Darren died, I went right to the hardware store and purchased one. It hadn’t occurred to me that flashlights could be used to protect oneself.”

  Myrtle shoved at the door to close it. No one knew what the weapon was. But Pansy shoved back, as hard as she could and pushed her way inside.

  Pasha gave a low, moaning growl again.

  Pansy said cheerfully, “Myrtle, you’re acting quite menacing. I have to wonder what’s behind that.”

  “What’s behind that is crankiness at not being able to turn in. I’ll be back to my lovely, amiable self tomorrow.” Myrtle put her hands on her hips.

  Pansy said, “It’s just that I had a revelation earlier, after we spoke. And, of course, just now, too.”

  In Pansy’s still-cheery voice, Myrtle heard a note of intimidation.

  “Did you?” asked Myrtle. She moved toward the front door, but Pansy blocked her way.

  “I did. I mentioned something about the clippings and I saw an odd expression cross your face. It took me a while to decipher it.”

  “Was it boredom?” asked Myrtle sweetly.

  “No. It was . . . insight.”

  Myrtle suddenly realized what had slipped her mind earlier. “Because you mentioned the clippings but I never mentioned clippings to you: just that Darren had told Miles that he knew something about Liam. Only the person who killed Darren would have known that.”

  Pansy smiled at her. “I don’t know why people always underestimate you, Myrtle. You’re the smartest person in this little town. That’s exactly what I realized you’d gleaned from our conversation, even if you didn’t immediately realize it, yourself.”

  Myrtle glanced across the room at her phone.

  Pansy pushed her in front of her toward the phone until Pansy got her hands on it. “You’re looking for this, Myrtle? Here, let me take it.”

  Pansy submerged it into Myrtle’s glass of ice tea while Myrtle fumed. Pansy gave her an innocent smile and then tipped her head back in a laugh.

  Pasha, either upset by Pansy pushing Myrtle or upset by the shrillness laugh, launched herself, spitting and hissing, claws extended, at Pansy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Pansy shrieked and stooped over trying to remove the black cat from her leg.

  Myrtle, looking for a weapon of any kind, latched onto the large bottle of weed-killer and swung it at Pansy as hard as she could. Pansy went down with a thud.

  The front door swung violently open and Red plowed into the house. “Mama?” he called.

  Red stopped short at the scene in front of him: Pasha, fur still puffy and attached to Pansy, Pansy unconscious on the living room floor, and his octogenarian mother hovering threateningly over her unexpected guest’s body with a large sprayer of weed killer.

  Pansy was checked out by an EMT and then taken away by the state police. Miles, looking rather disheveled but wearing his usual khakis and button-down shirt, arrived after hearing all the commotion on the street and made himself useful by making coffee.

  Soon Perkins, Red, Miles, and Myrtle were sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee.

  “I didn’t see any decaf,” said Miles apologetically.

  “I think we’re all up for the day at this point,” said Red dryly. “Even if I wanted to sleep, I know I wouldn’t be able to after hearing whatever frightening tale my mother is about to tell.”

  Myrtle said, “Now, Red. You’re acting as if this is all my fault. Pansy was the instigator. She showed up at my house and forced her way in.”

  Perkins asked, “Did she even have a premise for her visit or was she immediately threatening?”

  “I found her threatening right off the bat. I mean, who insists on coming in when an old lady states she wants nothing more than to go to bed? But yes, she did have a premise of sorts. She said she hadn’t been able to sleep, went for a drive, saw my lights on, and remembered I’d mentioned having a wonderful library of books.”

  Red said, “She said she wanted to borrow a book?”

  “Yes. But in reality, she realized she’d slipped up when she and I had been talking earlier. Pansy had mentioned Darren’s clippings being missing. But the only way Pansy would have known that is if she’d been there after Darren called Miles.”

  Perkins nodded. “You made the connection. Then Pansy realized you’d made it and came over to eliminate a loose end.”

  Myrtle made a face and reluctantly admitted, “I didn’t really make a connection. That is, I did, but I didn’t understand what it meant until I saw Pansy. But it all makes sense. She gave herself away before that, though. I mentioned she was brave for going for a walk in the middle of the night and Pansy said the flashlight gave her confidence because now she realized it could be used for protection.”

  Miles said slowly, “So Pansy killed Darren . . . because she knew he was leaving her money in his will?”

  Myrtle said, “Well, I didn’t have much of a chance to speak with Pansy before I knocked her unconscious with the weed-killer bottle. But here’s what I think: Pansy needed money. Pansy was used to getting what she wanted. Pansy asked Darren for money and Darren refused. Pansy lost it and hit Darren over the head with the flashlight.”

  Red glanced over at Perkins and Perkins gave a slight nod. Red said, “As a matter of fact, Mama, you’re right. Pansy gave us a nice, tearful confession once she came to. Darren turned Pansy down. What seemed even worse to Pansy was that Darren was committing an unpardonable sin.”

  “Ignoring her,” said Myrtle wryly
.

  “Exactly,” said Red slowly. Perkins looked less surprised than Red did that Myrtle drew this conclusion.

  Myrtle said, “Pansy said that was the source of their arguments. She’d go crying to Carter Radnor because Darren had prioritized his reading or alone time over time spent with her.”

  “Darren headed up to his attic as a way of just walking away from their argument. Pansy followed him, still arguing,” said Perkins.

  Miles cleared his throat and hesitantly said, “Darren did mention that he was spending a lot of time in his attic. It was becoming a sort of refuge for him, I think.”

  “That would have been helpful to know earlier,” said Myrtle reprovingly.

  “I only just remembered it,” said Miles with an apologetic shrug. “I was focused on the chess and when Darren talked it distracted me. And Darren was a much better chess player than I was, so I was trying to stay sharp. He seemed to be in a reflective mood and was looking through his old scrapbooks and family photo albums and stuff.”

  Red nodded. “He probably automatically headed up there as an escape from Pansy, guessing she’d just give up and go home. Instead, she followed him, kept arguing, and then struck him with the flashlight.”

  Myrtle said, “And she had the presence of mind to wipe the flashlight down. She’s not as silly as she likes to make out. Then she had to take care of Liam. I suppose he saw her leave in a hurry before he went in.”

  Perkins smiled at her. “An excellent deduction, Mrs. Clover. That’s exactly how it happened.”

  Myrtle looked pleased. “Yes. Liam had come by to collect those clippings. Darren clearly phoned him. He must have knocked, not heard an answer, then let himself in. When he saw the attic steps, he must have gone up. Although I’m not sure why he wouldn’t have left prints everywhere.”

  Red said, “He obviously wore gloves or was careful not to touch anything. He didn’t have time to wipe everything down before you and Miles came over. Maybe he’d come prepared to take the clippings forcefully if needed.”

  Miles said, “Maybe he’d intended on killing Darren, himself. He definitely had a reason to.”

  Myrtle said, “So he went up into the attic, gloves on or being careful not to touch anything, saw Darren’s body, grabbed the clippings, and left. But he decided to blackmail Pansy, figuring she must have murdered Darren.”

  “Which didn’t go over very well with Pansy,” said Red dryly.

  Perkins said, “Pansy stated that she went over to speak with Liam in his office, as planned. She told him the room was stuffy and he opened the window. She managed to push him out of it while he was leaning forward.”

  “So the only loose end was you, Mama,” said Red.

  Myrtle nodded. “And thank heaven for Wanda.”

  Red wearily rubbed his eyes. “Wanda.”

  “That’s right. She told me to mix up a batch of weed-killer.”

  Perkins and Miles seemed to be hiding a smile as Red said, “Weed-killer.”

  Myrtle scowled at her son. “Is there an echo in here? Anyway, Wanda clearly wanted me to have weed-killer on hand so I could use the sprayer as a weapon. She didn’t exactly tell me to mix it up, but she told me my weeds was bad . . . were bad. She’s a hero again.”

  Miles said, “Maybe Erma is a hero, too. For having the weeds to begin with.”

  “There is nothing heroic about Erma, Miles.”

  Red said, “I’m just glad you hit her with the sprayer instead of spraying Pansy with weed killing chemicals. You could have gotten into legal trouble with that.”

  “As if I’d put dangerous chemicals in my yard! The mixture is just apple cider vinegar, table salt, and dishwashing detergent,” said Myrtle with a sniff. “Pansy wouldn’t have been hurt at all. But walloping her with the sprayer probably stung.”

  “They believe she has a concussion,” drawled Red.

  “Serves her right,” said Myrtle.

  Perkins politely said, “I’m just glad you’re all right, Mrs. Clover. That was fast thinking on your part, psychic or no psychic.” He looked at Red. “I think we have everything we need for now, don’t we?”

  He and Red stood up. Red said, “Mama, Elaine was cooking all day yesterday, so please run by and grab some breakfast this morning. And while you’re at it, pick up something for lunch and supper, too. There are way too many carbs in that house right now.” He looked ruefully down at his stomach.

  Myrtle said, “I’ll be sure to run by later after it becomes a more acceptable time of the day. For now, I think I’d like to head over to Miles’s house.”

  “Do we have plans?” Miles looked surprised.

  “We should finish our chess game,” said Myrtle. “And then we can work on our puzzles. Because the rest of the day I’m going to be busy writing an article for Sloan on how I took down the murderer who’s been terrorizing Bradley.”

  Red looked prayerfully at the ceiling. “I’d likely use another word. I’m not positive Pansy qualifies as a terrorist.”

  “You didn’t see her before I hit her with the sprayer. She was quite malevolent.” Myrtle gave a satisfied smile at the thought of Pansy behind bars.

  They headed for the door and Red said, “Don’t you want to change first, Mama?”

  “Why should I? No one cares. Besides, slippers and a robe make a lot more sense at this time of night than the alternative.” She gave Miles’s more-formal attire a disparaging look. Red shrugged.

  Miles and Myrtle followed Red and Perkins out and Myrtle carefully locked the door behind them.

  Red said, “I almost feel as if I should make sure you two get there all right.”

  Myrtle said, “That’s silly, since Pansy is out of the picture. But you can do one thing for me. Distract Erma if she pops out of her house. She’s been like a Jack-in-the-box lately.”

  Sure enough, Erma excitedly hurried out of her house once she saw Miles and Myrtle passing, clearly dying to find out what happened. But Red and Perkins dutifully intercepted her and filled her in while Miles and Myrtle scampered over to Miles’s house.

  They sat in the living room and were quiet for a few moments, each in their own thoughts. Miles finally said, “So Pansy was the culprit all along. I have to say I’m surprised.”

  Myrtle shrugged. “Pansy’s odd manner helped me realize she was the perpetrator. Who asks to borrow books in the middle of the night, regardless whether the book owner is an insomniac or not? But yes. You know how it is. Sometimes when you’re not really trying to think about something, it pops in your head.” She nodded her head at the chessboard. “Sort of like that game over there.”

  Miles frowned and walked nearer to study the board. He carefully picked up several pieces in turn and hazarded moves before just as carefully placing each of them back. He said dryly, “It appears no matter what I do, you’ll have me in checkmate.”

  Myrtle nodded. “I think you’d have noticed that earlier if life hadn’t been so busy,” she said politely. She could afford to be gracious. She’d won the game.

  About the Author:

  Elizabeth writes the Southern Quilting mysteries and Memphis Barbeque mysteries for Penguin Random House and the Myrtle Clover series for Midnight Ink and independently. She blogs at ElizabethSpannCraig.com/blog, named by Writer’s Digest as one of the 101 Best Websites for Writers. Elizabeth makes her home in Matthews, North Carolina, with her husband. She’s the mother of two.

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  Did you know my books are available in print and ebook formats? Most of the Myrtle Clover series is available in audio and some of the Southern Quilting mysteries are. Find the audiobooks here.

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  I’d also like to thank some folks who helped me put this book together. Thanks to my cover designer, Karri Klawiter, for her awesome covers. Thanks to my editor, Judy Beatty for her help. Thanks to beta readers Amanda Arrieta and Dan Harris for all of their helpful suggestions and careful reading. A special thanks to Dan for his title suggestion for the book! Thanks to my ARC readers for helping to spread the word. Thanks, as always, to my family and readers.

  Other Works by Elizabeth:

  Myrtle Clover Series in Order (be sure to look for the Myrtle series in audio, ebook, and print):

  Pretty is as Pretty Dies

  Progressive Dinner Deadly

  A Dyeing Shame

  A Body in the Backyard

  Death at a Drop-In

  A Body at Book Club

  Death Pays a Visit

  A Body at Bunco

  Murder on Opening Night

  Cruising for Murder

  Cooking is Murder

  A Body in the Trunk

  Cleaning is Murder

  Edit to Death

  Hushed Up

  A Body in the Attic

  Murder on the Ballot (2021)

  Southern Quilting Mysteries in Order: