A Body in the Attic

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  “Did you take care of them weeds?” asked Wanda.

  “The weeds? No. Dusty is hopeless. I’ll have to see if he can take care of it later.”

  “So you still have a lot of it,” said Wanda.

  “The weed killer? Yes, a full bottle. Now I have a question for you. We’re trying to figure out more about Liam-the-lawyer. But Pansy doesn’t have a lot of information and Miles doesn’t listen.”

  Miles sighed again from the sofa.

  Wanda said, “Them newspapers was important.”

  Myrtle knit her brows. “The ones Darren found in his attic? That reminded him of Liam’s past?”

  “Them very ones.”

  Myrtle said, “All right, but the newspapers are gone now. And Pansy was very vague about the time period involved. She mentioned hurricanes or blizzards or something.”

  “Try a blizzard.”

  “All right. I’ll look online.”

  Wanda said, “One more thing. Might want to check yer funeral clothes.”

  “I will most certainly be doing that because I intend to be attending a funeral in a couple of days. Darren’s. I keep making the dumb mistake of not checking my funeral outfit and then finding a spot where I spilled on it from the last funeral. You’d think if I wore a garment for only two hours, it would be spot-free.”

  “Just sayin’ you might want to check it now.” Wanda paused. “That is all.” There was a click and she was gone.

  Miles said dryly, “More cryptic messages from Wanda?”

  “Yes. More about the weed killer. And I’m to look up a blizzard online, and check my funeral outfit.”

  Miles said, “Are any of them for immediate action? Because I’d like to watch the soap finally.”

  Myrtle strode toward her bedroom, calling behind her, “Just the one. This will only take a minute.”

  But it seemed to take slightly longer than a minute and Miles fidgeted on the sofa. Myrtle finally came back, bearing the two-piece funeral outfit in her hands. “Miles, you take a look. Wanda told me to check out my outfit. I don’t see a single spot on it. There don’t seem to be any missing buttons. The zipper is fully functional.” Myrtle demonstrated the zipper’s abilities and flipped the outfit around so that Miles could view both the front and back of the garments.

  Miles said, “Have you checked the pockets?”

  Myrtle put her hand into one of the pockets and pulled out cash. “Money!” she said, holding her hand aloft and grinning at the bills.

  “How much?”

  “More than I had before,” said Myrtle contentedly. She swiftly counted it. “Twenty-five dollars.”

  “Cash seems an odd thing to find in your funeral attire,” observed Miles.

  Myrtle nodded. “Yes. I’d never have thought to look there if dear Wanda hadn’t advised me to. Of course, I’d have come across it in a couple of days for Darren’s funeral, but she’s absolutely right that it’s needed today.” She frowned thoughtfully. “You know, this must have been at Sarah Denver’s funeral. Evaline Michaels gave me money to pay me back for the food I brought for the reception.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “You brought that much food?”

  “I did. Evaline put in an order for deli sandwich and fruit and cheese platters from the Piggly Wiggly and then was unable to come pick them up because she had a ghastly cold. I picked them up for her and she paid me back. Elaine drove me to the store and the funeral reception and helped me carry everything and I paid for it all.”

  “That seems like a lot of food for Evaline to purchase,” said Miles.

  Myrtle shrugged. “It was on behalf of her church circle. Anyway, the point is that I have money now.”

  “That’s good. Do you want me to take you back to the grocery store? With a list this time? That way you don’t have to have an uncomfortable supper with Red tonight.”

  “Oh, I’m looking forward to my uncomfortable supper. That’s when I hope to end up with more information. No, I’m just going to use a little bit at a time of my unexpected windfall.” She carefully put the money in her wallet.

  Miles was relieved to see Myrtle settle back into her chair and finally pick up the remote. He gave a contented sigh as the soap opera started playing.

  Chapter Twelve

  After Miles returned home, Pasha was fed, and Dusty fussed at, Myrtle trotted across the street to Red and Elaine’s house. She had to wait for a slow-moving car to pass before she crossed. The occupants all appeared to be taking pictures of her gnomes. Or, perhaps, they were zooming in on the giant gnome, quite the anomaly in the group. Myrtle preened, managing to photobomb their pictures.

  A few minutes later, Elaine pulled up an extra chair to the kitchen table and set a big plate of spaghetti in front of Myrtle.

  The entertainment for the evening was Jack. He was apparently a tremendous fan of spaghetti and was enthusiastically shoveling it into his mouth. However, his expertise with his little-kid-sized fork was clearly lacking. Plus, he kept grinning at the novelty of seeing his Nana at the table with them and then missing his mouth altogether.

  Red was very occupied with cleaning off Jack’s face after his near-misses and complete-and-total-misses.

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows at this. “Isn’t that a waste of time until the end of supper?”

  “He doesn’t want his face messy,” said Red.

  Myrtle suspected that Jack cared a lot less about the condition of his face than Red did.

  “More bread, Myrtle?” asked Elaine. “Oh, and I want you to try a new dessert I worked on this afternoon. I’m pretty excited about it. It’s a cranberry-apple lattice pie.”

  Myrtle beamed at her. “I would love to try it.” This, in Myrtle’s mind, was Elaine’s best hobby ever.

  She turned her attention on Red, who was still distracted by removing red sauce from Jack. “How is the case going, Red?”

  Red grunted. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Did any neighbors happen to see anyone leaving Darren’s house that morning? Or have you figured out what the motive behind the murder was?” asked Myrtle innocently. Red was never very forthcoming, but she hoped he was preoccupied enough to answer.

  He clearly wasn’t. “Keep out of the case, Mama.” He straightened back up, looking pleased at his handiwork. Jack gave him a grin and stuffed another handful of spaghetti onto his cheek.

  Elaine gave Myrtle an apologetic look.

  Myrtle said, “Red, I’ve actually been able, though sources, to find out very interesting information on this case.”

  Now his attention was fully-focused on his mother. “What kind of interesting information?”

  “Information about Liam.”

  Red scowled at her. “Darren’s attorney? What about him?”

  Myrtle shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Seems like if I give you helpful information, you should compensate me with a fair trade. With helpful information that you’ve obtained.”

  Red sighed. “You know I don’t talk about police business, Mama. Besides, I don’t even know if what you’ve discovered is all that helpful.”

  “I just want to know if there’s a clear motive.”

  Red shook his head. “I’m not answering that.”

  “Okay, how about this—did any of Darren’s neighbors happen to see anything when Darren was killed? People should have been out and about. I’d think somebody would have spotted a murderer skulking around in Darren’s boxwoods.”

  Red swiped at Jack’s mouth again. “Okay. I’ll disclose that information, but only because I don’t want you to go knocking on Darren’s neighbors’ doors and harassing them. No, nobody saw anything. On the one side, they’d all headed off to work. On the other side, they were checking emails and responding to them and totally focused on their computer. So there was nothing helpful at all.” He turned his attention on Myrtle. “Now on to your interesting information.”

  Myrtle smiled smugly, enjoying the spotlight. “Well, I was speaking with Wanda.”

  Red he
lp up a hand. “Let me stop you right there.”

  Elaine said, “Red, be polite.”

  Red rubbed his face with his hands, forgetting the napkin he’d been using to swab Jack’s face was still in one hand. A glob of spaghetti sauce transferred to his cheek.

  Myrtle frowned at the spaghetti sauce and at Red. “Really, Red, I’m disappointed in you. It seems you don’t really pay attention. Wanda is gifted. You’ve seen that in other cases.”

  Red held up his hand as if warding off more talk of the psychic. “I don’t know what I’ve seen, Mama.”

  Myrtle sighed. “All right, then. Let me start at this from another angle. Pansy also told me about Liam. It seems Liam and Darren might not have been getting along.”

  “I’m a little confused about why they might need to get along at all. They’re not married to each other. They’re not friends. They were just attorney and client.”

  Myrtle said, “Except Darren thought Liam might not have been exactly what he seemed.”

  “Really?” Now Red looked as if he might be paying attention. Jack grinned joyfully at his grandmother and inaccurately stuffed spaghetti at his face again.

  “Really. It seems Darren might have recognized Liam from his days living in Boston.”

  Red said, “I thought Liam was from New York.”

  “Well, that’s what he wants us all to believe. But have you ever heard a New York accent like that?”

  Red looked thoughtful. “No. Although I don’t hear a lot of New York accents on a daily basis, except on TV.”

  Myrtle gave a satisfied bob of her head. “Exactly. Now, the trouble is that we don’t really know what the time period was. Pansy said Darren mentioned some sort of natural disaster in Boston at the time: a blizzard or a hurricane or some such.”

  Red said, “It’s not a lot to go on, but I’ll give it to the state police. They have more people and resources to handle a search like that.” He grudgingly added, “Thanks, Mama.”

  Myrtle beamed at him and at Jack, who was now covered with spaghetti and sauce again.

  Elaine took away the plates and said, “Does anyone want pie? We also have pie. Here, I’ll just put a few options and plates out.” She glanced at Jack and laughed. “But first, I’ll clean Jack up. In the bathroom this time, I think. It looks like it’s even in his hair somehow.”

  She whisked Jack away and Red sighed and patted his tummy. “My girth is the only problem with this new hobby of Elaine’s. Pies, cakes, breads, pastries. I’m gaining weight like crazy.”

  Myrtle said, “Actually, the extra pounds don’t look bad on you. You were always too thin as a boy.”

  “That’s definitely not the problem anymore,” said Red with a moan. “Just wait. You’ll see if you keep coming over here, you’re going to start gaining, too. It’s impossible not to.”

  “I usually stay precisely the same weight,” said Myrtle proudly. “I’m already big-boned. I’m not thin, but I don’t really gain. Maybe it’s a side effect of being in one’s eighties.”

  Red looked doubtful. “If you say so, Mama.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I wanted to give you a little something just to tide you over until the end of the week.”

  Myrtle shook her head. “I don’t need a loan.”

  “Not a loan. A gift. You’ve certainly helped me out in the past. Consider it repayment.” He held out a few twenties.

  Myrtle said firmly, “No. No, thank you, Red. I actually discovered some money in an outfit of mine and I won’t need anything now.”

  He raised his eyebrows and put the money back in his wallet. “So you didn’t have to have supper with us tonight?”

  “Of course I did. You’re my family and I wanted to visit. And don’t worry—I won’t gain an ounce.”

  But unfortunately, two days later and back at her own home, Myrtle was putting on her funeral outfit for Darren’s service and found it to be a bit snug. She sighed and found some slacks that ran large and a top that was slightly big. Myrtle was alarmed to see how well both items now fit.

  The doorbell rang and Myrtle hurried over to open it. Miles stared at her. “You’re not wearing your funeral outfit.”

  Myrtle made a face. “It doesn’t fit very well today.”

  Miles said, “That must be contagious. My suit pants were too tight this morning so I had to wear something else. But I’m going to take care of the problem.”

  Myrtle found her purse. “You’re going to get the pants altered?”

  “No. I’m going to exercise and eat salads and not eat more of Elaine’s baking. I think the book club food did me in. And Bo’s Diner likely didn’t help.” Miles gave his tummy a miserable look.

  “Just think if you’d had supper with her a couple of days ago, like I did. She had all sorts of pies and other stuff. This hobby, as innocent as it seemed, is now just as dangerous as all her other hobbies.” Myrtle closed and locked the door behind her as she and Miles headed to his car.

  There was a rather brisk wind at the cemetery, which was doing a number on Myrtle’s hair. It stood up on end and she tried in vain to tamp it back down, sighing as she did. There were a fair number of people at the service, but then Darren had been a long-time resident of Bradley. It became even more well-attended after it started, with other mourners gathering.

  Miles murmured to Myrtle, “I’m surprised Carter Radnor is here. We keep hearing how he and Darren were at odds.”

  “Yes, but you can see where he’s looking.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “Right over at Pansy.”

  “Just like a lovesick puppy,” muttered Myrtle.

  Pansy, for her part, was looking very much like the grieving girlfriend. She wasn’t seated on the front row by the grave like Orabelle, Tripp, and other family members, but was seated in the row behind them. However, she certainly made her presence known with the occasional loud sob.

  The service went like clockwork. Myrtle figured Orabelle, who generally ran things like a drill sergeant, was behind the planning and execution of the event. There was a short, simple homily, a soloist with a single hymn, and a reading of Psalm 23. Then it was over and Orabelle invited everyone to the church hall.

  Myrtle and Miles climbed back into his car to head to the church. “There’s going to be quite a spread,” said Myrtle. “Orabelle is very involved in the church.”

  “And Darren wasn’t a slacker either,” said Miles. “I believe he went to church every week for Bible study.”

  “There’s going to be a lot of food,” said Myrtle. “And I’m sure Carter will be there. After all, he’s living on his own. There’s absolutely no way he’s going to turn down the opportunity of free Southern food cooked by the loving and experienced hands of an army of church ladies.”

  As Myrtle had predicted, the tables in the church hall were absolutely laden with food and the church ladies had truly outdone themselves. There were deviled eggs, sandwiches of every kind and variety, fried chicken, potato salad, ham in homemade biscuits, and a variety of other mouthwatering stuff.

  “Come on, let’s load up plates before we scout out Carter,” said Myrtle.

  Plates piled high, they looked for a spot to sit down and found a couple of chairs near the beverage table (also weighed down, but with iced tea, lemonade, punch, and other drinks).

  Miles looked thoughtfully around the room. “I haven’t seen Carter yet.”

  “Look for Pansy,” muttered Myrtle as she took another big bite of baked macaroni and cheese.

  Sure enough, as soon as they spotted Pansy, they saw Carter hovering nearby.

  Miles knit his brows. “I can’t say I approve of Carter’s behavior. It’s a hair away from stalking, isn’t it? I can’t imagine that Pansy appreciates the way he’s acting. She’s grieving for Darren, for pity’s sake.”

  Myrtle studied the scene for a minute. “I think she’s very aware of him. I’m not sure she’s bothered by him, though.”

  “It’s Darren’s funeral,” sa
id Miles, miffed on Darren’s behalf.

  “Then let’s break up his little reverie on Pansy,” said Myrtle, putting down her fork and heading toward Carter with Miles following.

  Myrtle gave a theatrical stumble very close to Carter and he automatically, and quite chivalrously, grabbed her by the arm and prevented her from falling. He should, perhaps, have wondered why Myrtle didn’t simply catch herself with her cane, but he appeared to be a man of limited imagination.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Gracious,” said Myrtle. “Thank you, Carter. I seem to be a bit unsteady today.”

  A frowning figure in the background caught her eye and she sighed as she realized Red spotted her stumble. He would either think it evidence that she needed to be driven straight to Greener Pastures retirement home or else he would think she was pumping Carter for information. Neither was good.

  “That’s no problem at all, Myrtle,” said Carter politely, his attention again straying to Pansy.

  Miles was hanging back and Myrtle pulled him forward. “You remember Miles, of course.”

  Carter gave him a smile. “How are you, Miles?”

  Miles was still steamed about the lack of respect shown Darren. He pointedly said, “Oh, I suppose I’m all right. Although I’m very sorry about Darren. He was a great guy.”

  Carter frowned. “Somehow I didn’t realize you two knew each other that well.”

  “We played chess together regularly,” said Miles stiffly.

  “I see. I’ve never been much of a chess guy, myself.”

  “I suppose not.” Miles gave him a cold look.

  A cloud passed over Carter’s features as if he wasn’t quite sure if his intelligence was being besmirched or not.

  Myrtle stepped in before Miles became even more antagonistic. “Miles and I were actually the ones who discovered poor Darren. It was a terrible morning.”

  Carter lifted his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry. I wish I’d known Darren needed help. I was at home with Charlie.”