A Body in the Attic

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  Red’s eyes narrowed. “This all makes a lot of sense except for one thing. Liam is dead. It seems to me that if he’d killed Darren to keep him quiet and protect his law business, Liam would still be alive and well.”

  Miles cleared his throat. “Was it . . . well, did Liam jump?”

  Red hesitated. Then he said, “It doesn’t look that way, actually. There’s some evidence to suggest otherwise. That’s what’s so confusing about the situation. Besides, I don’t think Liam would have wanted to kill himself anyway, even if he’d killed Darren. The whole point of murdering Darren would have been to ensure that Liam’s life continued on as normal.” He glanced over as Lieutenant Perkins arrived on the scene. “Let me go talk with Perkins. I need to get the state police on Liam’s history pronto.”

  He hurried away and Myrtle sang out, “You’re welcome!”

  Miles said, “Well, we should go then, shouldn’t we? You’ve spoken with Red. We found out Liam was murdered. We should leave and get out of their way.”

  “Except we’re not in their way. And Tripp is coming over. Don’t you want to find out how he figures into the equation?”

  Miles’s expression stated that he wasn’t sure that was really at all necessary but he reluctantly stayed seated.

  Tripp greeted them and said, a hint of mockery in his voice, “Is this what passes as evening entertainment in Bradley?”

  Miles flushed, but Myrtle said smoothly, “Don’t be silly, Tripp. We were waiting to speak with Red and provide him with some useful information, which we just did. As I suppose you did, yourself?”

  Tripp nodded. “Yeah. I was back here meeting someone and saw something on the ground.” His face, even in the darkness, looked pale.

  Meeting someone back here at this time of night didn’t exactly sound like aboveboard business, but Myrtle was willing to let that slide. “I see. And you called the police. But you didn’t see what happened before that?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I saw it wasn’t any suicide. The guy had marks on the inner part of his upper arms. It looked like he was grabbed and shoved.”

  Miles said slowly, “Isn’t it also unusual for suicides to take place at one’s workplace?”

  Myrtle said, “I suppose, except this is the tallest building in Bradley, so if defenestration were on one’s mind, that might make a difference. But it sounds as if Red agreed with you, Tripp—that this was murder.”

  “Can I smoke?” asked Tripp suddenly. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket without waiting for an answer.

  Myrtle said sternly, “As long as you don’t blow the smoke in our direction. We’re seniors. We have delicate lungs.”

  Tripp seemed altogether more jittery than was required, even considering the occasion. His eyes were bloodshot, too. Myrtle suspected he had something more potent than nicotine coursing through his body. “Are you finished speaking with the police? Can we give you a lift home?”

  Tripp nodded, took a few more drags on his cigarette and then stomped it out. After seeing Myrtle’s expression, he carefully picked it up off the ground and stuck it in his pocket instead of littering. “Yeah, they’re done with me. A ride home would be great. I walked over here but I’d rather not walk back.”

  They all climbed into Miles’s car.

  Myrtle said, “So you were meeting someone out here?” Her tone seemed to suggest that this was an odd thing to do at that particular location.

  Tripp said wryly, “Believe me, your son has already given me a hard time about what my business was out there. You’re a straight-shooter, Miss Myrtle, so I’ll call it what it is: addiction. I have an issue and I was out there trying to feed my habit. It was obviously a really crummy idea since I immediately came across a body.”

  Miles said, “What did Red say?”

  “Oh, he wasn’t really amused by the whole thing. But I gotta say, he’s generous, Miss M. Red said he was willing to look the other way on the drug stuff as long as I got cleaned up. Even emailed me a list of resources from his phone.”

  Myrtle raised her eyebrows. “Good for him. I wasn’t sure what he’d do in that case.”

  “I guess he was more worried about the body than anything else, so maybe it was good timing for me. But he did say he can’t have any drug activity in Bradley, so this was my one and only chance,” said Tripp. “Of course, he said I’m still considered a suspect in my uncle’s death and to let him know if I end up leaving town.”

  Myrtle said, “Have you had any other ideas about what might have happened to your uncle? And do you think what happened might have been somehow motivated by the money he made from the sale of that painting?”

  Tripp snorted. “A straight-shooter, just like I figured. To answer your question, I have no clue what happened to him. But yeah, money is a real motivator. Even my mom asked Darren for money.”

  This prompted Myrtle to turn around to look at Tripp in the back seat. “Did she?”

  “That surprises you,” noted Tripp with a sly smile.

  “Well, she always seems so content. So competent.”

  Tripp said, “She can be both of those things. You’d never realize she was a dreamer. At least, you wouldn’t until you saw her magazine subscriptions. And the artwork in the house. Oh, and the shows she watches on TV.”

  “What are those?” asked Miles.

  “Travel-related,” said Myrtle slowly.

  Tripp looked impressed. “You’re a real detective.”

  “I simply happened to notice the art on her walls, although I didn’t think a lot of it at the time. Prints of London. The Eiffel Tower. Things like that.”

  “Exactly,” said Tripp. “Her dream is to go abroad. And funnily enough, she’s never even made it out of Bradley.”

  “And so she asked her brother for money,” said Myrtle.

  “And he wouldn’t give it to her. He said it was all tied up in investments and stuff. She was too proud to push him on it.” Tripp shrugged. “But can you imagine my mother killing Darren in his attic?”

  Myrtle actually could. Not only did she have quite a remarkable imagination, she also remembered Orabelle’s steely strength.

  Myrtle said, “Were you really home the morning Darren was found?”

  Tripp said, “Like mother, like son. Red’s already pegged me on that. No, I was off being a dope, as usual. I just made it home at sunrise.”

  Miles sounded startled. “There are places to go in Bradley where you can stay out all night?”

  Tripp chuckled. “No, there aren’t. I’d left town and come back. Anyway, I had a brilliant idea.” He snorted. “At least, it seemed like a brilliant idea when I was high. I asked Darren for money. Like I said, he very politely refused me and there was no trouble. He was definitely alive and happily watering his azalea bushes when I left him.”

  Myrtle nodded. “And did you see anything out of the ordinary when you found Liam? Anyone lurking around in the shadows?”

  Tripp shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t even see the guy I was there to meet lurking around. He spotted a dead body and took off.”

  Miles said, “I suppose there was no motive for him to push Liam out of a window.”

  Tripp gave a short laugh. “He’s not the kind of guy who hangs out with lawyers unless he’s headed to jail. He was just here to meet with me, like I said. I gave Red his name and contact info, so he’ll be checking him out, anyway. But no, it’s got to be somebody else.” He paused. “Red said he was Uncle Darren’s lawyer. We haven’t even gotten to the will and testament stage of things, so I didn’t know. It seems like kind of a big coincidence that he’s dead now, too.”

  It seemed that way to Myrtle, too. Miles pulled into Orabelle’s driveway and Tripp said, “Okay, well, thanks for the ride. Good seeing the two of you.” The last was said somewhat unconvincingly, but still in the same chipper voice. He hopped out of the car and disappeared inside.

  Miles drove them to Myrtle’s house. “If it’s okay with you,” he said, “I’m feel
ing tired. I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

  Myrtle nodded. “My mind is still running a million miles an hour, so I won’t be doing that. I’m going to try some of Lieutenant Perkins’s crosswords to wind down a little. And write an article on Liam’s death for Sloan. It’s too late for it to run tomorrow, but it’ll make the next day’s paper. And we should check in with our suspects again, starting with Pansy.”

  Miles raised his eyebrows. “How do you propose we do that in a natural way? You’re hardly one who hangs out with Pansy on a regular basis.”

  “Yes, I think Pansy’s a little silly sometimes. Here’s the problem with Pansy: her silliness is pretend.”

  “You don’t think she’s actually silly?”

  “Not a bit. When she speaks directly to me, she’s a perfectly logical, intelligent-sounding human being, at least for the most part. But I’ve witnessed her behaving completely differently with Darren and Carter. She thinks the silliness is some sort of gambit to be appealing to men. Such a misguided approach. It’s most annoying. Men like smart women,” said Myrtle viciously.

  Miles gave her a wary look. Myrtle was a smart woman who could occasionally be dangerous. Finally Myrtle managed to shake off her general irritation about Pansy’s silliness or lack of it.

  “Anyway, we’ll simply pop by to say we were in the neighborhood and so happy to have her join book club. Does she have any questions for us? And how is she doing? You know, that sort of thing. We’ll be friendly,” said Myrtle, trying the word out on her tongue as if it were an exotic food.

  “How early will this drop-by be?” asked Miles, wary once again.

  “Oh, not early at all. A perfectly decent time. Nine o’clock.”

  Miles nodded. “Right.”

  “And we’ll bring by some of Elaine’s baked goods for Pansy’s breakfast,” said Myrtle, warming to the topic.

  “Won’t that negate the idea that we just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

  “No, we’ll say Elaine gave them to us, we had extra, and we had the brilliant idea to bring it by. See how everything falls into place?” Myrtle sounded pleased. She opened the car door and stepped outside.

  “See you tomorrow,” said Miles.

  Myrtle wrote the piece for Sloan and emailed it off. Then she worked on one of Perkins’s crosswords and found, to her delight, that it was indeed quite tricky. She had to put a good deal of thought into the process, which entertained her to no end. By the time she finished, she found to her surprise that it was one in the morning.

  Also to her surprise, she heard a tap at her door. She frowned, picked up her cane, held it up threateningly, and crept to the front door. Peering out, she saw Erma Sherman with her goofy grin. Even worse, Erma appeared to be in a robe and slippers, which Myrtle decidedly didn’t want to witness.

  “Erma, I was just about to turn in,” called Myrtle through the door.

  “I won’t be long,” sang out Erma. “I want to talk to you about the case.”

  Myrtle sighed. She never liked feeling conflicted when it came to Erma. It was always better to simply feel she needed to stay outside a particular zone. One that was far away. But one of the many annoying things about Erma was that she did indeed have useful information sometimes. This was because she inserted herself in everyone’s business as much as she possibly could.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reluctantly, Myrtle opened the door. Erma delightedly hopped inside, then stopped, glancing fearfully around. “Pasha isn’t around, is she?”

  Sadly, Pasha wasn’t. “No, she’s out subduing nature somewhere. Come on in, Erma.”

  Myrtle was preparing to sit down in her armchair, but Erma looked expectantly toward the kitchen. “Might I have something to nibble on?”

  “I suppose so,” said Myrtle inhospitably. She was heading toward the kitchen when there was another rap on the front door.

  Erma beamed, clasping her hands together. “It’s Miles! We can have a sleepover after all!”

  “It’s the opposite of a sleepover,” Myrtle grated severely. Did Erma remember nothing? She stomped to the door. At least Miles might be able to help her expeditiously rid herself of her Erma infestation.

  But it was Red. He looked tired, but nosy. “Just drove home. Saw your lights on, Mama. And saw you open the door to someone who didn’t look like Miles.”

  He raised his eyebrows as Erma waved excitedly to him from the kitchen. He waved back and murmured to his mother, “Wow, Mama. I’m surprised to see Erma here. Did you get over your phobia?”

  “I didn’t,” snarled Myrtle. She stomped toward the kitchen again and Red followed her, greeting Erma and settling down at the table.

  “I shouldn’t be hungry,” said Red, patting his stomach. “Elaine has been feeding me tons of carbs. Somehow, though, the more carbs I eat, the hungrier I get.”

  Erma beamed at him. “There’s some sort of science to that, I think. Of course, for me, whenever I eat carbs, I get a terrible digestive disturbance. If I eat too much sugar? Or gluten? My guts just . . .”

  Myrtle put her hands over her ears. “Enough, Erma! I can’t handle medical talk at this time of night.”

  Erma switched gears quickly. “So, Red, why are you getting home so late? Something to do with the case?”

  Red nodded tiredly. “Well, who knows if it’s to do with the case, but it was a late call. I might as well tell you because it’ll be sure to be all over town tomorrow anyway. Liam Hudson is dead.”

  Erma tried to keep a handle on her expression, but completely without success. She attempted a look of horror and sadness, but a gleeful grin at knowing something before anyone else did took over. “How awful! And was it murder?”

  Red said, “I can’t say anything else about it.” He paused. “Just wondering what made you decide to come by?”

  Erma said, “Well, I couldn’t sleep. I’m on this medicine, see.”

  Myrtle made a strangled sound and Erma gave an apologetic giggle. “Sorry, sorry. I know, no medical stuff. Any-hoo, it keeps me from sleeping. I hate being alone when I can’t sleep because it makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world who isn’t asleep. So I walked over to see if there were lights on at Myrtle’s and there were.”

  She beamed at Myrtle, who gave her a wilted smile in response. “And the thing about Myrtle is that she’s so used to insomnia, that she makes it seem fun.”

  Red said sternly, “It’s not fun and it really shouldn’t be viewed that way, Erma.”

  Erma, however, still looked rather wistful, although she nodded.

  “It’s in fact a dangerous medical condition resulting in car accidents.” Red’s face was severe.

  “I don’t own a car,” said Myrtle with a shrug.

  “Poor decision-making,” added Red, ticking off his points on his fingers.

  “I’m always judicial,” said Myrtle.

  “And shortened lifespan,” finished Red.

  Myrtle snorted at this.

  Erma nodded eagerly, “You’re right. Of course, you’re right! That’s why it’s good this is just a temporary problem for me.”

  Myrtle said tiredly, “Erma, you did say that you had some sort of information for me.” At this point, she didn’t even care if Red heard it. She just wanted them both gone from her house as quickly as humanly possible.

  Erma looked coy. “Well, I don’t know if what I know is very useful. Sometimes I just pick things up around town. You know how it is. You get to talking to people and the next thing you know, you find out all sorts of things.” She cast a longing look at one of Elaine’s leftover biscuits on the counter.

  “The information,” repeated Myrtle through gritted teeth. She shoved one of the biscuits at Erma.

  Erma quickly devoured the biscuit before answering. This was a blessing since Myrtle had no desire to witness Erma trying to speak with a full mouth. Erma brushed the crumbs from her lips and said, “So, Pansy.”

  Red said, “Pansy Denham.”

&nbs
p; Erma fluttered her lashes at Red. “Darren’s girl, yes. Anyway, I think she’s in rather desperate financial straits. And I feel just awful, Myrtle, because we had that big food signup at book club for the next meeting and she probably felt as if she had to sign up for all sorts of things she couldn’t even afford! And she’s having such a difficult time anyway with her beau being murdered and such.”

  Red nodded. Myrtle sighed. Red really shouldn’t encourage Erma. Any signs of encouragement may make Erma rattle on incoherently for hours.

  He said, “And what makes you think she’s in such bad trouble financially?”

  Erma’s eyes grew big. “Oh, it’s very easy to see! There’s been a real decline in her fortunes, no doubt about it. She used to buy fancy high heels all the time. You’d never see her in the same pair of shoes twice. And at book club, she was wearing a really tired pair of fake leather Mary Janes. Did you notice, Myrtle?”

  “No.” Myrtle herself wore very sensible orthopedic shoes and rarely noticed or cared about the footwear of others.

  “Well, it was quite extraordinary. And it told me a couple of things.” Here Erma looked expectantly at Myrtle and Red, waiting for them to prod her to disclose her findings.

  Myrtle didn’t play along.

  Red somewhat grudgingly (it was very late, after all) asked, “What did it tell you, Erma?”

  “It told me that not only was she in such poor financial health that she was wearing what looked like second-hand shoes, but that she didn’t have all those shoes she’d purchased in the past. Because why would you wear a pair of shoes like that when you could wear one of the dozens of fancy shoes you had in your closet?”

  Red was still trying to piece together Erma’s thought process with the shoe thing. “So what do you think happened to those shoes? She returned them?”