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  “He gave Pearl nothing but grief while she was alive. The thought that he might have killed someone I consider a friend is very, very vexing!” said Myrtle.

  Miles said, “He does seem very affected by Pearl’s death.”

  “He’s probably wondering who’s going to feed him and wash his clothes now that she’s gone,” said Myrtle uncharitably.

  “Red’s motioning us over,” said Miles.

  “Makes more sense to speak with us here and leave Hubert over there,” said Myrtle. Which is what Red ended up doing.

  Red strolled up to them and plopped down in a chair on the front porch. “Mama, I hope you have an excellent explanation as to how you’re involved with yet another dead body.”

  “I’m involved with this one because she’s not just a dead body. I’m surprised at you, Red! This is Pearl Prentiss Epps. She taught you Sunday school and knew you since you were a little guy.” Myrtle glared at her son.

  Red sighed. “I know that, Mama. I’m just trying to mentally distance myself from that fact. It’s tough to see her like that. But I have the state police on the way and they’ll be able to tell me if Pearl had a coronary event that prefaced her fall. Maybe she had a stroke and fell. At least I know that she couldn’t have been there for long.”

  Myrtle gave him a hard look. “What the state police will find is that Pearl was likely shoved down the stairs. And I think that’s what you’re going to conclude, too, once you hear what I have to say.”

  Red groaned. “I was afraid you would say there was some sort of story behind this.”

  Miles cleared his throat. “I can confirm it.”

  Red nodded. “Okay, that makes me feel better. Go ahead and fill me in.”

  Myrtle did, finishing with, “And when we came back in from Bo’s Diner, the manuscript had disappeared.”

  Red frowned. “So you’re alleging that someone broke into your house and stole Pearl’s book?”

  “I’m not alleging it. I’m stating it. The manuscript is gone. I hardly think that the cat picked it up and spirited it away,” said Myrtle in an exasperated voice.

  “Could you simply have put it somewhere and just thought that you had left it in the living room?” asked Red. He sounded hopeful.

  Miles shook his head. “Sorry, Red. She left it in the living room and that’s that. And all the windows were open for the cat to come and go as she pleased. It seems that someone took advantage of that fact to climb in.”

  “Directly across the street from the police chief? And in sight of an extremely nosy neighbor by the name of Erma Sherman?” Red knit his eyebrows.

  “A police chief who’s so busy that he’s rarely home. And Erma has been laid up with some malady that I’d rather not know about,” said Myrtle.

  “And which Erma is likely to fill us in on later,” said Miles glumly.

  “Besides,” added Myrtle, “I had a window open facing the back yard, too. Someone could have easily slipped back there and climbed in.”

  “I don’t know about easily,” said Red, frowning. “People aren’t quite as nimble as Pasha is. But let’s just say that it’s possible. Why would somebody do such a thing? I think about Pearl Prentiss and all that comes to mind is a sweet little old lady with an unremarkable life.”

  Myrtle nodded. “That’s exactly the problem. That’s what came to mind for me, too. But Pearl indicated that she was tired of keeping secrets. Perhaps her family wasn’t as tired of it and wanted to stop her. Because soon it would be all over town that Pearl and her family weren’t as sweet and unremarkable as they seemed. And I just can’t see Pearl falling down the stairs. It’s simply too coincidental that Pearl would suffer a fatal fall down the stairs at the same time that her memoir is stolen from my house. Besides, Pearl was a coordinated woman—she could do marvelous needlework. And she was holding nothing in her hands as she went down the stairs. There was no rug there to trip over.”

  Red nodded. “All right. While I’m inside, I’ll be sure to look for copies of this book.” He paused. “I don’t suppose she wrote the thing in longhand, did she?”

  “No, she typed it on her computer and printed it out. But when I was inside, I didn’t see her computer or any other copies of her manuscript,” said Myrtle.

  Red gave her a hard look. “You didn’t go upstairs, I hope.”

  “And step over poor Pearl? Of course not,” said Myrtle.

  “Okay. Well, it’s possible that we’ll find the computer upstairs in her bedroom. I’ll keep any eye out for it. Now, if both of you could go ahead and head back home, I’d appreciate it. The state police will be here at any time now.” And without another word, Red walked back to Hubert.

  Miles drove back while Myrtle sat quietly thinking. “You know, we’re going to need to make Pearl’s daughter, Rose, a casserole.”

  Miles gave Myrtle a wary sideways glance. “She doesn’t even know about her mother’s death. A casserole can be put off until at least tomorrow. And remember, we don’t usually have much luck with these ‘in sympathy’ casseroles. It might be better to pick up something from the store.”

  “We? The casseroles are always my concoctions. You usually won’t even allow yourself to be credited in their creation. And everyone knows that homemade is better than something store bought.”

  Miles’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t reply.

  “You have a point about Rose, though. Let’s plan on seeing her first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, we can relax for a little while,” said Myrtle.

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “Now that’s not something I usually hear you say right after a murder has happened.”

  “Well, finding Pearl has really worn me out. I’m not talking about relaxing the rest of the day, just long enough for me to get my bearings. I’ll need to write up a story for Sloan, of course, too,” said Myrtle.

  Miles frowned. “You know that Sloan rarely wants you covering crime stories. Red puts pressure on him to keep you on the helpful hints column.”

  Myrtle waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Pooh. Sloan is down in the dumps with his breakup, remember? I’m effectively doing all of the editing. That story won’t get covered if I don’t do it and that would be a pity because it’s going to be a big story. Pearl Prentiss is an important person in this town. She’s lived here all her life, knows just about everybody in Bradley, and was involved in all sorts of activities here. It would be a travesty if her murder wasn’t reported.”

  Miles said cautiously, “But Myrtle, Red didn’t seem convinced that it was a murder.”

  Myrtle snorted. “He’ll come around. There’s too much evidence to the contrary. Besides, I won’t explicitly come out and say it’s murder.”

  They both looked over at Myrtle’s empty table.

  “All right,” said Myrtle briskly. “Let’s not dwell on sad things right now. On with Tomorrow’s Promise. I want to find out if Christine will die in that ambulance or if they’re going to bring her back for another season. The idea of ending the last show with her struggling for her life in an ambulance! The producers of this soap sure have a lot of nerve.”

  Fortunately for the producers of the show, Christine did not die in the ambulance, although it was all very harrowing for a while. Toward the end of the soap, the plot line became a lot more pedestrian. Myrtle, who was not at all concerned whether Rohan would end up together with Penelope, started writing her piece for Sloan.

  At least, she was working on it until her doorbell rang. She raised her eyebrows. “Like I said, Miles, it appears that Red is spreading rumors about the tenuous quality of my health. I’m going to have to put a note on my door, signed by my doctor, to combat this.”

  She walked over and peered outside, then drew back in surprise. “Rose,” she murmured to Miles.

  “Pardon?” he asked.

  “Rose!” she hissed. “Pearl’s daughter.”

  Chapter Four

  MYRTLE QUICKLY PULLED open the door. “Rose, my dear, I’m just so sorry. Ca
n you come inside?” Then she noticed that Rose had a dog in tow. The dog grinned apologetically at Myrtle as if it knew it shouldn’t be there.

  “Oh no, I can’t—I’d feel bad about bringing Buster in here,” said Rose. Her jet-black, shoulder-length hair made the paleness of her complexion look even whiter in comparison. She always had a fragile look about her and she looked especially delicate today with huge shadows under her eyes. Her eyes were red from tears.

  Myrtle gave Buster the once-over. Pasha didn’t appear to be around, so there would be no conflicts there. “Buster seems fairly well-behaved. We can sit in the kitchen. Please come in.”

  “Thanks. Buster isn’t mine. One of my jobs is being a dog-walker. I fit it in around some of the other stuff I do,” said Rose. Her voice sounded hollow as if she were speaking on automatic pilot.

  Rose and Buster followed Myrtle in. “You know Miles don’t you?”

  Rose gave Miles a small smile. “Good to see you, Miles.”

  Miles nodded and smiled back, following them both into the kitchen.

  Myrtle said, “You actually must have read my mind, Rose. Miles and I were planning on visiting you tomorrow morning with a casserole in tow. We’re just so sorry about what happened to your poor mother.”

  Rose’s eyes welled up with tears, but to Myrtle’s relief, they didn’t spill over. She said, “That’s so sweet of you.”

  Miles shifted. Never happy with Myrtle’s cooking, the look on his face said that it wasn’t a sweet gesture at all.

  Rose continued, “You must wonder what I’m doing here, just after hearing about Mother.” Her voice trembled a little.

  Myrtle shook her head. “Not really, sweetie. I’d imagine you’re looking for some sort of explanation or more information. Sometimes men aren’t great about giving that out. I’m thinking you didn’t hear much from either Red or your father.”

  Rose shook her head. “Red was, naturally, asking me questions. And my father was just sort of off in a fog. I just want to know what happened.” Her voice was tight and tense, and her hands holding Buster’s leash were shaking.

  Myrtle said, “Can’t I get you something to eat? To drink?”

  Rose shook her head.

  Myrtle sighed and said, “If your mom hadn’t come over to see me this morning, I might just have figured it was a terrible tragedy that she fell down the stairs. I still do think it’s a terrible tragedy, and you know how fond I was of your mother. I’m very much afraid that there must have been foul play involved.”

  Rose’s dark eyes were huge in her pale face. “Murdered! I wondered when Red was asking me all of those questions. Could it have had something to do with her book? I know that’s why she came over to see you this morning.”

  “I wish I knew. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a chance to take a look at it before it was stolen while Miles and I were at lunch. But Pearl hinted that it would involve exposing family secrets.” Myrtle paused and studied Rose, who had hung her head and was staring at a confused Buster.

  After a few moments, Rose said in a small voice, “Yes, Mother hinted something like that to us last night. She was in such an odd mood. On one hand, she seemed energetic and proud that she had completed this book. None of us had any idea that she’d taken it so seriously and that she was actually working on it. She’d thrown out the suggestion some time ago that she wanted to write her memoirs and I’m afraid that no one really listened to her or believed that she would do it.”

  Miles said, “No one saw her typing? Working on it?”

  Rose shook her head. “I mean, sometimes I noticed her laptop out, but I never thought anything of it. I figured she was just looking at recipes online or quilt patterns or something like that.”

  “This laptop,” said Myrtle. “When I was in your parents’ house a while ago, I didn’t see any evidence of it at all. Do you know what happened to it?”

  Rose frowned. “It’s gone?”

  “Well, I suppose it might have been upstairs. I didn’t go upstairs, of course. But I made a cursory search for it downstairs and didn’t see it. I was specifically looking out for it because of the theft of the manuscript,” said Myrtle.

  Rose stared at her. “Someone stole it?”

  Rose swayed a bit unsteadily and Myrtle quickly said, “Here, have a seat.”

  Miles gave Myrtle a look. Rose had looked as though she might keel over there for a second. And she wore a thinness and fragility that didn’t seem healthy.

  Myrtle said, “Your mother was such a beloved figure in this town, you know. I’m very sorry that she’s gone.”

  Rose said, “I can’t imagine who could do such a thing. Such an awful thing.” As she was saying it, a flush rose up from her neck and covered her face in splotches. Myrtle frowned. It almost seemed as if she did have an idea who could have done it, despite what she was saying.

  “Maybe we can figure out who is responsible. Did you see or hear anything this morning when you were out walking dogs?” asked Myrtle, hoping that Rose would give her some sort of alibi.

  Tears ran down Rose’s pale cheeks and Buster the dog jumped up and put his paws on her to lick her face in concern. She put her arms around Buster and sobbed into his coat.

  Myrtle jumped up. “Tissues! Tissues!” She hurried out of the living room to find a fresh box of tissues in the closet. She had the feeling that Rose might go through quite a few of them and that the half-empty box in the living room might not suffice.

  She thrust the box at Rose who grabbed it. Rose handed Miles Buster’s leash and then blindly stumbled back to the small hall that led to Myrtle’s bathroom.

  Myrtle and Miles stared at each other. Miles murmured, “She’s a disaster.”

  “I haven’t seen her for a while. She wasn’t always this thin and pale.” Myrtle glanced back to make sure Rose wasn’t on her way back to the living room. “She’s hiding something. I’m not sure that she did it, but I bet she knows who did,” said Myrtle.

  Rose returned, face red and eyes redder. She took Buster from Miles and sank down on the sofa, holding the leash limply.

  She said, almost to herself, “I told Mother it was a bad idea. Many times.”

  “The book?” asked Miles.

  Rose nodded absently. “She was bound and determined to put it out. Everyone has secrets, don’t they? And things they feel guilty about?”

  Myrtle and Miles obediently nodded, although Myrtle thought that her own secrets ran more along the lines of what gift she was purchasing for family for a birthday or Christmas. Or what activities she might be hiding from Red.

  Rose continued, “No one wants their secrets exposed like that. Who wants secrets out in a book for everyone to see?”

  Myrtle tried again. “Pearl seemed determined, I’ll say that. But she didn’t really tell us why she thought it was such a good idea to print your secrets. Only that it was healthier that way.”

  Rose said, “That’s what she’d convinced herself of. She thought that the family would function so much better if everything was out in the open.”

  “It seems like a very extreme thing to do—steal a manuscript from a house in broad daylight. And then, of course, what happened to your mother,” said Myrtle. “It seems . . . desperate.”

  Rose shook her head. “I can’t imagine who could do such a thing. You’re sure that the manuscript isn’t somewhere here? That you didn’t misplace it?”

  This annoyed Myrtle, although she took pains not to show it. “I’m afraid I’m not as forgetful as all that,” she said coolly.

  Rose glanced across the room. “What about that pile of papers there?”

  Miles winced. Myrtle did not like to be questioned like this. And she rarely lost things.

  Myrtle gave Rose a tight smile. “Those are articles that I’m editing for the newspaper. An entirely different project. No, the unfortunate and inconvenient truth of the matter is that your mother brought me a book to edit. I left for lunch and left some windows open for my cat to com
e in and out. When I returned, the book was gone.”

  Rose nodded, looking miserable. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound as though you’d lost it. I just hate the thought that someone I know would break into your home when you were doing a favor for Mother. I’d like to think that she simply tripped and fell down the stairs at home. She’d always go down the stairs too fast—I told her that over and over again. But if someone stole the book, that paints everything in a different light.” She sighed and Buster looked at her with concern.

  Finally, Rose said, “I should be going. Poor Buster hasn’t had much of a walk.”

  Myrtle said, “Sweetie, how about if I give you your mother’s meal that she brought by earlier today? She’d want you to have it.”

  Rose brightened. “Is it her chicken, broccoli, and rice?”

  “It is indeed. And I insist. The last thing you want is to have to cook after a day like today,” said Myrtle. “I have the perfect tote bag for you to carry it in.”

  “Thank you, Miss Myrtle,” said Rose.

  Rose and Miles ended up leaving simultaneously. “I’ll talk with you later,” said Miles as he left. Myrtle was already mentally writing her article for her editor, so just nodded in response.

  After fifteen minutes, she’d nearly finished the first draft. There was a tap on her front door again and Myrtle rolled her eyes.

  But when she opened the door, she saw Elaine and Jack there. Myrtle gave Elaine a smile before turning all her attention to Jack. “How’s the best, smartest grandson ever?” asked Myrtle.

  “Pasha here?” asked Jack, looking around for the cat.

  “Not right this second, but I’m sure she could be here at any moment. She’s been starving lately,” said Myrtle. And, just to amuse the child, she opened a can of tuna in a very noisy fashion by the kitchen window. Sure enough, the black cat leapt through to Jack’s delight.

  “Remember to be gentle with Pasha,” said Elaine in a warning tone.

  “Smart advice. Although Pasha has a definite soft spot for Jack. They’re both very, very bright, and Pasha recognizes that,” said Myrtle, watching the two together.