“I should have been here sooner,” said Miles sadly. “Maybe I could have done CPR or something.”
Red tapped his pen against his notebook again. “Sorry?”
Miles tilted his head slightly. “Well . . . it looked to me as if Darren had suffered a heart attack. He’s not young and he’s talked about being on heart medicine.”
Red sighed. “Miles, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Darren was murdered.”
Myrtle sat up a bit straighter.
Miles stared at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t . . . well, I didn’t notice a wound.”
“It was on the back of his head and then he fell backwards. It looks as though he was hit with that heavy-duty flashlight he had up there with him. Which neither of you needs to tell anyone about.” Red gave Miles a serious look. “So don’t be feeling guilty about not being here any earlier. If you and Mama had been here just a little sooner, y’all might be dead as well.”
Miles shivered and Myrtle snorted. “I’d have beaten the villain with my cane within an inch of his life. The very idea of killing Darren! What on earth did he ever do to anybody?”
Red looked serious. “That’s what I’d very much like to find out. And he didn’t give you any indication of what he’d found, Miles?”
Miles shook his head. “Just clippings and something about someone named Liam.”
“Liam Hudson?” asked Red sharply.
Miles shrugged. “I don’t know any Liams.”
“He’s a lawyer here in town,” said Myrtle.
Miles said, “He didn’t say which Liam.”
“There surely can’t be too many of them floating around,” said Myrtle.
Red said, “I did notice someone appeared to have gone through the attic. It must have happened very quickly. His attic looked messy to me and the rest of his house was neat and tidy.”
Miles said, “It looked odd to me, too. I’m sure Darren would have kept his attic just as organized as the rest of his house.”
Red tapped his pen against his notebook again. “Do you have any idea if anyone was upset with Darren? Had he had any run-ins with anyone recently? Issues?”
Miles frowned. “He did mention some things. But I was mostly focused on my next chess move, I’m afraid.”
“For heaven’s sake,” groaned Myrtle from the backseat.
Miles drew his eyebrows together. “Let’s see. I might be able to come up with something. It must sound as if I wasn’t listening to Darren at all.” He looked guilty again.
Red said soothingly, “I get it—you were trying not to be distracted while you figured out your next move. Darren must have been a very good player.”
Miles nodded. “That’s right.”
Red said, “Maybe if you did a quick rundown of his relationships. That might help me get started.”
Miles said slowly, “Let’s see. He’s dating Pansy Denham. But they get along really well.”
Red gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m just taking notes and gathering information. I’m not going to automatically suspect everyone in his circle of having murdered him.”
Miles took a deep breath. “His sister, as you probably know, is Orabelle Whitley. She’s our mail carrier.”
“And a very good one,” said Myrtle appreciatively. “Prompt and courteous.”
Miles continued mulling Darren’s connections over. “He does have a nephew . . . Orabelle’s son. I can’t remember his name. I believe Darren does sometimes have a few run-ins with him.”
Red nodded, jotting this down. “What types of run-ins?”
“I think he’s usually short on cash.” Miles said this somewhat apologetically, as if getting Darren’s unnamed nephew into trouble hadn’t really been on his to-do list that day.
“Anyone else?” asked Red.
Miles shook his head. “I know there are others, but I can’t for the life of me think who they are.” He glanced through the windshield and said, “Oh no. Here comes Darren’s sister.”
Sure enough, the mail truck had pulled to the curb and Orabelle exited the vehicle, looking concerned.
Red straightened up. “I’ll speak with her.”
He swiftly strode over to the mail truck and gently helped Orabelle to sit down. Miles looked away as Orabelle’s face crumpled at the news.
Myrtle said, “We should have lunch after this, Miles.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Precisely why we should get you something to eat. Fried food will help you get over your shock,” said Myrtle briskly.
Miles frowned. “Is that medically-sound advice?”
“Of course it is. Anyway, that’s what we’ll do as soon as we leave here.”
Miles risked a glance through the windshield again and looked relieved to see that Orabelle had composed herself. “Oh. It looks like the state police are driving up.”
Myrtle scooted forward to see better. “And Lieutenant Perkins is here!”
Detective Lieutenant Perkins with the state police was a favorite of Myrtle’s. She’d even had him over for a memorable dinner. What she liked best about him was the way he always listened and appreciated her opinion on his cases. As opposed to her son, she thought with a sniff.
Perkins spotted Myrtle in the car and gave her a wave and a smile before ducking quickly into the house as Red joined him.
Miles said, “It looks like Orabelle is coming over.”
“You don’t have to sound like you’re about to get a cavity filled, Miles. We’ll simply give her an abridged version of what happened this morning. Then maybe she can give us some information about who could have done this.” Myrtle hopped out of the car and Miles slowly started following suit. Myrtle gave him a sharp look. “Are you sure you’re okay, Miles? If you keel over, there’s no way I’ll be able to catch you. Want my cane?”
Miles said in a dignified voice, “I do not. I’m fine, thank you. And I should certainly stand in this particular circumstance.”
“I’ve always liked Orabelle,” said Myrtle. “Very prompt mail delivery. Always.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “And she likely has other admirable qualities.”
“I’ve never wanted to hold her up from her appointed rounds.” As Orabelle reached them, Myrtle said, “Orabelle, we’re so very sorry. Would you like to take a seat?” She gestured to Miles’s recently vacated car.
Orabelle shook her head stiffly and seemed to be keeping rigid control of her emotions. “I’m good, thanks. It was quite a shock, but now I just want answers.” Her eyes narrowed. “And, possibly, revenge.”
Myrtle reflected that Orabelle looked to be the type of person to enact it, too. She was a stern-looking woman who had, Myrtle recalled, a tendency to bark at people. Her gray hair was held back in a no-nonsense headband. Myrtle, at right around six feet tall, was accustomed to looking down at the tops of women’s heads, but Orabelle could look her in the eye.
Myrtle said, “Well, Miles and I are just terribly sorry.” Miles nodded and Myrtle continued. “I know you’ve been out delivering the mail. You didn’t happen to see anything suspicious when you drove by, I suppose?”
Orabelle said, “As a matter of fact, I was home today with the day off. One of my coworkers delivered today.” She glanced across the yard as some suited forensics workers entered Darren’s house. Orabelle shivered.
Myrtle raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m really surprised to hear that. My mail was delivered precisely on time and that so rarely happens unless you’re delivering.”
Orabelle gave her a small smile. “Yes, well, Mary Lynn is getting better all the time. But she did work today. I’m just driving the truck to run an errand so I haven’t been by the house at all.” She added with no slight degree of emphasis, “And Tripp was at home with me, too. You remember my son, Tripp. I think you taught him.”
Myrtle thought she remembered Tripp as rather lazy and sassy. But she nodded instead.
“He’s living with me on a temporary basis, you know. He’s plannin
g on going back to school,” said Orabelle, pride momentarily replacing the sorrow on her face.
“That’s wonderful,” said Myrtle, meaning it. She wasn’t entirely sure what school Tripp had originally forfeited his degree at, but it had to be better that he was returning to finish it up.
Orabelle turned, distracted by the state police speaking to each other and stringing police tape across the front of the property.
“Poor Darren,” she said in a soft voice. “He simply didn’t deserve this.”
Miles apparently was able to dredge at least one memory from the depths of his brain. He said, “He didn’t. And I thought his luck had turned for the better, after discovering that painting in his attic. He said it had turned out to be fairly lucrative, I believe.”
Myrtle stifled a sigh. Miles was clearly spending too much time thinking about chess and not nearly enough thinking about fascinating attic finds of recently-murdered friends.
Orabelle gave him a sharp look. She said in a careful voice, “Yes. Something like that. Of course it was a pleasant surprise for Darren. You know how he loves discoveries of any kind. He was forever telling me about things he’d come across and really enjoyed. He’d just listened to Mozart’s Masonic Funeral march and loved it.” She gave a dry laugh that had a bit of a sob in it. “He wouldn’t allow me not to listen to it. And it was beautiful and only six minutes long. Maybe I should have it playing at his service as people arrive.”
Miles looked uncomfortable and somewhat guilty again as the mention of Darren’s funeral was broached. But Myrtle was reflecting on the fact that Orabelle had very effectively changed the subject.
Orabelle said, “Now, if you could, would both of you fill me in a little more as to what happened this morning? How did you end up being in Darren’s attic?”
Myrtle lifted her cane and said, “Well, I wasn’t in his attic, but Miles was.”
Miles shifted on his feet. “Yes. Darren called and invited me to come over. I thought at first perhaps he wanted us to play chess again, but he’d found something of interest in his attic again and wanted me to take a look.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “When he didn’t answer the door, we went looking for him.”
Orabelle gave a sniff and nodded sharply. “And Red said he was murdered. That it wasn’t a natural death.”
Miles said, “That’s what he told us. But it wasn’t obvious when I was up there with him. I’d originally thought he’d suffered a heart attack or a massive stroke.”
“It must have been very quick,” said Orabelle in a hopeful tone.
Myrtle said, “It didn’t take us long to arrive here. It must have been very quick indeed.”
Orabelle nodded again and her gaze drifted sadly over her brother’s house. She seemed to pale a little as her eyes locked on something near Darren’s front steps.
Miles seemed oblivious, still caught up in his thoughts, but Myrtle followed the direction of Orabelle’s gaze. There were a pair of sunglasses lying there. They appeared to be quite youthful-looking ones, too, and nothing that Orabelle would dream of wearing. But judging from her expression, the sunglasses were important. Myrtle had the feeling they might belong to her son, Tripp.
At that moment, Lieutenant Perkins stepped outside with Red. He gave another polite wave to Myrtle and then his focus sharpened and he called to someone wearing an evidence suit. The pair of sunglasses was quickly zipped up into a plastic bag.
Orabelle seemed to deflate a little at this.
Myrtle said, “Orabelle, I understand Darren was seeing Pansy Denham.”
Orabelle groaned. “Yes, he was. She’ll be a disaster when she hears about this. I hope Red will tell her so I won’t have to do the honors. I’m not in the right mindset to deal with hysteria.”
Myrtle said, “Pansy can be rather emotional, can’t she? I don’t know her as well as you likely do. What’s she like?”
“I never warmed to her,” said Orabelle promptly. “And Darren told me the two of them hadn’t been on the best of terms lately. Not to suggest that Pansy had anything to do with this, of course.”
“Goodness,” said Myrtle, adopting her fluffy, gossipy old lady persona, “what happened between the two of them?” She leaned in as if hanging on Orabelle’s every word.
Orabelle shook her head. “That I don’t know. Only that Darren told me they’d had a few issues. I can hazard a guess, though. You know how Darren treasured his quiet time.”
“He was quite the reader, as I recall. He and I would chat about books sometimes,” said Myrtle.
“Exactly. And he liked quiet pursuits like chess,” said Orabelle with a nod at Miles. “And lately, he’d enjoyed spending a good deal of time in his attic, messing about. But Pansy seemed jealous of the time he’d spend alone, in the attic, or playing chess. She was quite irritated about it. Darren would be all comfy inside with a good book and Pansy would insist he take her to dinner or out to the movies. She’s a very persistent woman.” Orabelle tightened her lips into a thin line as if persistence wasn’t a quality she particularly admired.
They stopped speaking as Red approached them. Red gave Orabelle a kind smile and said, “Unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do here. I think our team will be here for a while. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
Orabelle gave a quick nod and then briskly asked, “Will you be informing Pansy Denham?”
Red said, “He was dating her, wasn’t he? Yes, we’ll let her know.” He looked tired as he glanced over at Myrtle. “Mama, you should head home, too.”
“Won’t you need to speak with Miles again?” asked Myrtle.
“I think I got all the information I need from him right now,” said Red firmly. He glanced over at Miles. “Why don’t y’all head over to Bo’s Diner and have lunch? Miles looks a little peaked.”
Myrtle was cross at being dismissed from the crime scene, but Miles definitely wasn’t looking so hot and she needed her sidekick in tip-top condition. “Sure,” she said reluctantly.
One of the state police called to Red and he hurried away.
Chapter Three
Miles turned a bit green at the thought of the diner. “I’m not sure fried food would sit well on my stomach right now.”
“They have plenty of other options,” said Myrtle. “You know you usually end up with a salad over there. Besides, Red wants us to leave and he’ll continue glaring at me until we do.”
Miles was finally, and reluctantly, convinced and soon they were walking into Bo’s Diner in downtown Bradley. The restaurant hadn’t changed in decades with its vinyl booths, laminated menus, and linoleum flooring.
Before long, Myrtle was contentedly eating a pimento cheese hot dog and French fries. Miles looked askance at her plate and pushed around salad greens without any of them actually getting put into his mouth.
Myrtle watched him for a moment as she took a sip of her iced tea. “You’re not really going to get any nutritional benefits that way, you know. The food must be digested. You’re just pushing it into the corners of your plate to make it appear you’ve eaten something.”
Miles sighed. “I’m just not that hungry.”
“Thinking about Darren again?” asked Myrtle.
Miles nodded and Myrtle pursed her lips in thought. “As a matter of fact, there’s one thing I can distract you with. I’d like to discuss something with you.”
Miles frowned. “That sounds ominous.”
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine, Miles. It’s just that I need you to go to book club with me tomorrow afternoon.”
Miles pushed his salad so far to the edge of the plate that a bit hit the table. He scowled at it.
Myrtle continued, “You haven’t been to the last three meetings. It’s a source of some concern with the ladies. You know how you brighten their day by being there.”
Myrtle smirked and Miles rolled his eyes at her. He said, “It’s a little dispiriting to attend book club when there are only ten minutes allotted to the chosen book. And, f
rankly, when the allotted book isn’t even worth ten minutes.”
“I’d agree. But you know your methods aren’t exactly helpful. We have to ease into literature with that club and those women. You practically killed book club when you introduced The Mayor of Casterbridge.”
Miles sighed. “I can tell you have a plan.”
“I do. I already changed the book club meeting this month to the library’s community room to remind everyone that our club is about books.” Myrtle sat back in the booth and beamed at Miles.
Miles said grudgingly, “It might work. But you realize the problem with that approach is the alcohol. The library won’t allow it. The rest of book club won’t want to show up if it means giving up their vodka and tonics. Attendance might be very low.”
Myrtle said in a severe voice, “The book club has become entirely too tipsy in recent months. I believe a drying out stretch might be best. Besides, we can still have food in the community room and the snacks are also popular. And that’s another reason why I need you to come. Like I mentioned, you’re a big draw.”
“I haven’t read the book.”
“Believe me, Miles, no one has read the book. Probably not even Tippy, who proposed the silly thing. I have a good idea for the next book, though.”
“The Sound and the Fury?” asked Miles hopefully.
“I’ll overlook your little Faulkner obsession. There’s no way book club can handle his streams of consciousness. They’ll end up quite dizzy. No, I thought we should revert to high school English and try House of Mirth. I have the feeling the group will enjoy it. Or they won’t read it, which will put us at the same point we are now. At any rate, nothing bad will happen with that particular book choice.” Myrtle polished off the last bite of her hot dog.
“I suppose that will be fine,” said Miles. “I do like Edith Wharton.”
Myrtle said, “Well, thank goodness you’ll come. I was concerned you’d drag your feet. I know how you don’t like attending when you haven’t read the selection.” She knit her brows as Miles lay down his fork and left the salad untouched. “There’s actually another reason I think you’ll want to be at the meeting. Pansy Denham will be there.”
A Body in the Attic Page 2