A Body in the Attic

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Pansy seemed to realize there might be the very slightest edge to Myrtle’s question. She flushed again, this time in annoyance. “You, of course, are in the paper all the time, aren’t you? I think you wrote the article on Darren this morning.” She grudgingly added, “It was a good piece.”

  “Thanks,” said Myrtle. She said, “I’m hoping that, as the town’s investigative reporter, I can help track down who did this to Darren.

  Pansy blinked at her, then quickly glanced over Myrtle’s form . . . from the top of her gray head to the cane she held sturdily in one hand, to her sensible orthopedic shoes. “That’s, well, that’s remarkable.”

  “Yes. And considering this mission of mine . . . do you have any ideas as to who might have harbored such feelings of ill-will toward Darren?”

  Pansy looked down as she thought. Myrtle carefully held the horrid cookie behind her back as she did. “Everyone liked Darren. They really did.”

  Myrtle said carefully, “Dear, no one is liked by everyone.” She paused. “Do you know anything, by the way, about a potential connection between Darren and someone named Liam?”

  “Liam Hudson? Yes. He was Darren’s lawyer. As a matter of fact, he mentioned something about him a couple of days ago. I got the impression he was somewhat at odds with him.”

  Myrtle frowned. “Why would Darren be at odds with his lawyer?”

  “I don’t really know. I just know Darren kept saying Liam wasn’t who he appeared,” said Pansy. “He mentioned that maybe he could find proof.”

  “How very ambiguous of Darren! What on earth did he mean by that?”

  Pansy shrugged a thin shoulder.

  “You didn’t ask?” Myrtle found some people’s absence of curiosity quite amazing.

  “No. I think I was busy at the time. Yes, I was shucking corn.”

  Myrtle thought shucking corn was a very poor substitute to finding out more information on a really mysterious statement by one’s boyfriend. “And that was all he said on the matter?”

  Pansy’s brow furrowed even further as if she were reaching into the very soles of her feet to try to think of what else Darren might have said. She slowly added, “No, he said one thing more. I didn’t really understand where he was going with it. He said it was the same time as the big snowstorm.”

  “Big snowstorm? Here in Bradley?” A big snowstorm in the North Carolina town might be interpreted as one that actually dusted the ground instead of merely elevated surfaces. Even a small amount of white stuff was usually enough to bring the entire town to a screeching halt. And wipe grocery store shelves free of bread and milk.

  “Or hurricane?” added Pansy, unhelpfully.

  Myrtle sighed. Pansy was clearly not the fount of information she could be.

  “No, wait. It was definitely a hurricane. That’s because Darren and I started talking about where we were at the time it hit.”

  Since Bradley wasn’t a coastal town, but hours away from the beach, this did help limit possibilities. The number of hurricanes that had any sort of impact on the town were few and far between. “Could it have been Hurricane Hugo?” asked Myrtle.

  “Hmm. No. At least, I don’t think so. Darren said it was when he was living in Boston at the time. It was a hurricane that impacted his area there.”

  Tippy joined them then. “May I borrow Pansy now, Myrtle?”

  Myrtle nodded and Tippy whisked her away; perhaps because Pansy’s furrowed brow and worried expression as she tried to pull up memories made Tippy think Myrtle was somehow making Pansy unhappy. And, judging from Tippy’s censorious look, unhappiness at book club was against the rules.

  Miles walked up to Myrtle and she thrust the half-eaten cookie into his hand surreptitiously. “Get rid of this for me, would you?”

  Miles did, and then covered his hands with the bottle of sanitizer he conveniently had in the pocket of his khakis. “What was that?” he asked.

  “A ghastly culinary misstep by Pansy,” said Myrtle. She rubbed her hand clean on her slacks.

  Miles said, “Well, I suppose she might be distracted. Under the circumstances.”

  “I’m not entirely sure she doesn’t bake like that all the time,” said Myrtle.

  Miles narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes people don’t realize how bad their cooking is.”

  “They should be pitied for their lack of self-perception,” said Myrtle with a sniff.

  Miles looked to be on the point of elaborating on this subject, when Myrtle’s cell phone started ringing. She startled. “Who on earth could be calling me?” she muttered, fumbling to retrieve the phone from her voluminous purse.

  She glanced at it and then answered. “Red! I’m at book club. It’s really not a very good time.”

  “I could say the same,” grated Red. “I’m in the middle of a murder investigation and yet I’m getting citizen complaints about a large gnome blocking the sidewalk in front of my mother’s house.”

  “A large gnome? How silly. And the perfect example of an oxymoron.”

  “And yet it seems to be true. I’ve received several calls.”

  Myrtle glanced across the room at Georgia and caught her eye. Georgia gave her a thumbs-up and a grin. Myrtle supposed she was to interpret those gestures to mean Georgia had somehow offloaded the gnome. Apparently onto a public walkway.

  “Mama, there’s a town ordinance against blocking a sidewalk.”

  “I’ve done no such thing! I’ve been at book club for the last forty-five minutes; setting up the room and speaking with fellow literature-lovers. Ask anyone.”

  Red growled, “I’m tied up right now, but then I’m going to have to address this giant gnome. I’m thinking about giving you a ticket, too.”

  “Whatever. I have to go.” Myrtle hung up just as Tippy was clapping her hands to get the attention of the group.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Tippy said winking and smiling at Miles. “I want to welcome everyone to our book club. Let’s extend a special welcome to Pansy Denham, who’s just joining us.”

  Everyone beamed at Pansy and gave her a round of applause. She teared up a bit at this and Tippy expertly diverted attention away from her again.

  “And thanks, also, to Myrtle, who had the brainstorm for us to hold this month’s meeting at the library. Perhaps Myrtle would like to say a few words about this?”

  Myrtle decided she would. She stood up and walked to the front of the room. She summoned her classroom voice from years ago. It was a necessary voice to utilize since there were still two members whispering to each other in the back, another seemingly mesmerized by the snack table, and yet another busily spilling punch on the table and one of Miles’s precious books. Miles gaped in horror from across the room.

  Myrtle cleared her throat and said, “The reason I wanted us to meet at the library this month was to remind our group what book club is all about.”

  “Books!” beamed one of the members, as if she were the teacher’s pet and wanted a gold star.

  Myrtle gave her a reproving look at interrupting. “That’s true. And while we do talk about books, I feel we’ve somehow lost our way. We’ve become too interested in socializing.” She gave a significant pause here and stared at the two women who were still whispering together. They blushed and stopped. “We must find our way back to real literature. For inspiration, I’ve picked out some wonderful books from Miles’s own personal library.”

  The woman who’d just sloshed punch on one of Miles’s books also blushed and scrubbed furiously at the red stain on the front cover of Ivanhoe.

  Blanche raised her hand and Myrtle nodded at her. “Are there any classic novels that are actually easy reading? Because the last thing I want to do with my free time is to work hard at relaxing.”

  There was murmured assent from the group and Myrtle raised a hand, stopping the murmurings in their tracks.

  “Certainly there are,” said Myrtle smoothly, walking over to the table with Tess of the d’Urbervilles. But she was interrupted by, of all
people, Erma.

  “I know the best book for us to read,” she chirped up.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  “I do, I really do! I got to the library early and I went over to see what might be good for us to read.”

  “Is it your month to pick?” asked Myrtle through gritted teeth. She sincerely hoped it wasn’t.

  “I’ve never picked,” said Erma beaming. “I’ve always let other people have my turn.”

  Tippy cleared her throat. “Well, then, I think we should let Erma determine what book we read for next month.”

  Erma nodded. She glanced around at everyone’s eyes on her and preened.

  “Let’s have it, Erma,” said Myrtle grimly, steeling herself for the title.

  “Frankenstein,” said Erma.

  Myrtle said, “All right. By Mary Shelley. That’s actually not a bad choice for the group. An excellent gothic tale that we’re all somewhat familiar with. But it has a good deal of depth, too.”

  Erma nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! But it gets even better. I found they have a graphic novel version here at the library. They have quite a few copies, so it must be popular. Then I looked online and there were plenty of used copies, too, for hardly any money. Won’t that be so much fun?”

  The book club seemed to think that was a lot of fun. They liked the idea of being able to see the monster and the doctor. They asked what other books the library had as graphic novels and Erma was able to go into a great deal of detail as to the library’s fairly extensive collection.

  Myrtle walked back to her seat and Miles looked at her sympathetically. “This wasn’t exactly how you wanted things to go.”

  “No.”

  Miles said, “But, you know, it may end up that this will lead to the group tackling some good books after they’ve read a condensed format.”

  “Miles, I have no hope at all that’s what’s going to end up happening. Let’s move on.”

  Tippy was clapping her hands again and started the discussion of that month’s pick: a maudlin little tale of a middle-aged woman battling the inevitable tide of aging. Myrtle rolled her eyes. She’d mastered aging and it was irritating to her to hear about anyone who was struggling with the process.

  As it happened, it seemed no one had really read the book. This was excellent news because the actual discussion portion of the meeting was cut short. Then everyone started milling around and visiting again.

  Miles said, “Can we get out of here? You’ve already spoken with Pansy.” He looked with misgivings as another book club member picked up one of his books while juggling a chocolate doughnut someone had brought in. He winced as she flipped through the pages.

  “Yes, let’s get out while the getting is good,” muttered Myrtle.

  “Too late,” said Miles glumly as a woman waved at them and started walking over with great determination.

  Chapter Ten

  “Sherry,” said Myrtle with a sigh. “She’s fond of chatting, too. We may never make it out of here alive.”

  “Hi, you two,” said Sherry cheerfully. “Say, I haven’t seen either of you at the gym lately. What gives?”

  Sherry worked at the gym and also worked out at the gym.

  Miles quickly said, “My knee has been giving me trouble lately.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows innocently. “Goodness, has it, Miles? You’ve been so very stoic about it that I didn’t even realize.”

  He glared at her. “Why haven’t you made it to the gym, Myrtle?”

  “Me? Why I’ve been just so terribly busy. You know how I write investigative reports for the newspaper.” Myrtle glanced at Pansy across the room and lowered her voice. “Yesterday’s news has kept me hopping.”

  Sherry nodded solemnly. “Got it. Isn’t it awful? You know I live right next door to Orabelle. She seemed just devastated yesterday when I spoke with her. She and Darren have always been so close.”

  Myrtle said, “And I suppose you’re also a neighbor of Tripp’s, since he’s living with his mother now.”

  Sherry made a face. “I suppose I am. Although I think he should think about himself a little less and spend more time thinking about his mother. I see Orabelle lugging the trash out all by herself every day. I bet most of the trash is Tripp’s, too, because I always see him bringing in fast food bags.” She sighed.

  Miles said slowly, “He seemed rather nice when I met him.”

  “Don’t get me wrong; he’s charming. But I think he might be trouble, too,” said Sherry.

  Myrtle nodded. “That’s hard on Orabelle, especially right now. Maybe he’ll start looking after his mama better since she’s going through such a challenging time.” She paused. “I hear Tripp was home yesterday when Darren was found.”

  Sherry put her hands on her hips. “He certainly was not. His car hadn’t been over there for a whole day at that point. I remember because I thought ‘Oh, maybe he’s finally moved back out. It was only supposed to be a temporary thing, but there he was camping out at his mom’s.”

  Sherry seemed prepared to lecture at length on Tripp’s general ineptitude at being a good son, so Myrtle quickly interrupted. “You’re saying he wasn’t at home.”

  “He was not. And I told Red that same thing. It happened to be my day off from the gym yesterday, so I was there. But you know how it is—when you’re used to waking up early, you keep on waking up early. I’m usually at the gym at 6 a.m. and so I’m up at 5 or earlier. I went out to get my paper and I saw Tripp still wasn’t there.”

  Someone called out to her and she gave them both a smile. “Good talking to y’all! Take care, now. And come back to the gym!”

  Miles waved at her and said in an urgent undertone, “Now we should go.”

  But going didn’t seem to be in the cards yet. Georgia Simpson sauntered up to them. “Y’all trying to escape?” she boomed with a hearty laugh. She saw their stricken faces and chuckled, “Hey, don’t worry. I won’t hold you up. Just wanted to give you an update on the gnome, Myrtle. Delivery went as well as could be expected since your guy wasn’t there.”

  Myrtle looked vexed. “What? Dusty wasn’t there? He said he’d be there.”

  “Nope. But there were signs he’d already been by your place. Lots of signs. There were gnomes crammed into just about every available spot on your lawn. I didn’t have time to rearrange them so I could put that big guy in there. Plus, I’m not going to lie, that dude was pretty heavy. So I just heaved him out of my truck and put him right there on the sidewalk. Anyway, I’ll let you and Miles head on out. See ya later.” She strode off, tattooed arms swinging as she went.

  “I’m starting to wonder if I dare to collect my books or whether we’ll be accosted again,” fretted Miles.

  “Go get the car. I’ve got a tote bag I can stick everything in and dangle it from my arm.”

  Miles frowned. “That might make me appear un-chivalrous.”

  “Yes, but you’re also the major draw between the two of us. We’ll never get out of here if you don’t leave,” said Myrtle.

  Five minutes later, she joined him in the car with a bag of books. Elaine’s food was all gone, so she’d just thrown away the paper plates it rested on.

  “Where to?” asked Miles.

  “Let’s drive back to my house. I can fill you in and then we can watch Tomorrow’s Promise.”

  Miles headed in that direction. When he pulled up to Myrtle’s house, he said, “What’s that?”

  Myrtle smirked. “It appears to be a man grappling with an oversized gnome.”

  “Is that Red?”

  “Yes. I didn’t have a chance to tell you that Georgia gave me a gnome she’d come across. She left it on the sidewalk instead of trying to find a better spot for it. Apparently, it’s heavy.”

  Miles continued staring at Red, now waltzing with the gnome as he tried to maneuver it off the public sidewalk. “Apparently so.”

  Red finally wrestled it off the sidewalk and walked it backward into Myrtle’s grass. H
e stepped back and wiped sweat from his brow, then spotted Myrtle and Miles. He glowered at Myrtle as she nonchalantly stepped from the car and pulled out her house keys.

  “Mama! What’s the meaning of this? You know you can’t put your things on the public right-of-way!”

  Myrtle pursed her lips and gave Red a reproving look. “As if I would do any such thing, Red Clover. You think I could have put that gnome there? You could barely move it, yourself.”

  Red rubbed the side of his head as if an incipient headache was making itself known there. “I think one of your minions did it for you. By the look of your front yard, I’m guessing Dusty.”

  “Actually, it was Georgia Simpson. But she had no plans at all for blocking the sidewalk.”

  Red growled, “Well, for someone who had no plans, she sure did a good job.”

  Myrtle said, “She was simply giving me the gnome as a gift and had a hard time managing it or finding a free spot in the grass.”

  Red put his hands on his hips and surveyed the gnome. “This is the King Kong of gnomes. It’s got to go, Mama. I mean, the other gnomes are tacky, but this one takes the cake. It’s a public nuisance by its very existence. Get rid of it.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. Georgia would be devastated.”

  Miles smiled at the unlikely scenario of brash Georgia having her feelings hurt.

  Red said, “Georgia would be devastated? We’re talking about the same Georgia, aren’t we?”

  “She would. It would be unkind of me to get rid of her gift. Georgia is a dear friend.”

  Red narrowed his eyes. “Since when?”

  “Since always. Miles and I have always held her in high regard.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows at this, but quickly nodded in agreement.

  Red now rubbed his eyes with his two hands as if the headache had migrated there. “I give up. Do whatever you like with the thing . . . with the exception of allowing him on the sidewalk. But if I start getting complaints from the citizens of Bradley, I’ll let you know.”

  He started stomping back to his police cruiser in his driveway across the street. Myrtle sang after him, “See you at supper tonight!”