A Dyeing Shame (10 page)

Before she could stammer out a protest or try a stalling tactic, he’d gone
.
This investigation of hers would take more legwork than she’d planned on. At least she’d learned that Tammy’s ex was not on the suspect list.

Elaine walked cautiously into the den, holding Jack in one arm and a feather duster in the other. “Coast clear?”

Myrtle nodded. “All clear. Unfortunately! I didn’t get a chance to get all my questions answered.” Seeing Elaine reminded her about the housekeeper. What if Elaine thought she was interfering?
Was
she interfering? “Um…don’t be angry with me, Elaine.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of that. Are you a suspect now?”

“It’s nothing to do with the case. I just thought I’d hire you a little help around the house. You know: until Jack is older and either easier to care for, or can be shipped off to the Foreign Legion or something.” Myrtle was horrified to see tears welling up in Elaine’s eyes. “Did I hurt your feelings? The house always looks great, but when you said that you had to decide between time for you and Jack or cleaning…”

Elaine said quickly. “I’m not mad, I’m grateful. It’s like having a fairy godmother.” She pulled Myrtle into an enthusiastic hug, squishing a protesting Jack in the process. Then she pulled back. “It’s not Puddin, is it?”

“No, no,
not
Puddin. I
like
you, Elaine. I wouldn’t foist a Puddin on you. Absolutely not.”

Myrtle guiltily eased out of Elaine’s embrace. Well, after all, she
could
have had only the purest motives for getting the housekeeper. Did motives really matter, anyway? Wasn’t it the helping that ultimately mattered in the end? She’d thought of Elaine, truly she had.

T
HE INCESSANT BARITONE
baying made Myrtle turn on her bedside light. Who could sleep with the Hound of the Baskervilles roaming Bradley? No wonder Jack still needed afternoon naps. At home, used to wakeful nights, she had a pile of crossword puzzles and cryptogram books to plow through. She’d forgotten to throw her puzzle books in her suitcase. She missed her house. Stupid air conditioning company.

Surely the whole household would be up any moment. She peered at the red digital numbers on the clock radio. Two-thirty. Her stomach gurgled. But with that dog’s barking, it would only be a matter of minutes that everyone would wake up. Might as well go ahead and fry up some eggs for the household.

A flabbergasted-looking Red, stumbling into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, was met by the sight of his mother wrapped in a bright red robe and flipping eggs on the stove. “Hi, Red!” she said merrily. “Come to join me? That dog must have woken you up, too.”

“No, Mama.
You
woke me up when you yanked the pots and pans out.
That’s
what woke me up!
You’re
the only insomniac around here.”

“Keep your voice down! You’ll wake the whole house.”

Elaine poked her head around the kitchen door. “Is everything okay?” she yawned, rubbing her eyes. Mystified, she gazed at Myrtle, now doling out eggs on plates. “What time is it? Is it time to get up?”

Red threw his hands in the air as Elaine pulled up a kitchen stool and obediently started eating the egg placed on the counter in front of her. Myrtle heard him muttering oaths as he stomped back to the bedroom.

Myrtle smiled weakly at Elaine. “Sorry—it’s only two-thirty. I thought for sure that dog’s howling would wake y’all up, too. Want to crawl back in bed?”

Elaine chewed a mouthful of egg. “Actually,” she answered around it, “this kind of hits the spot. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway. Kept thinking I heard Jack. Then I got this idea for a painting that I want to try. It just popped into my head, fully-formed. I can’t wait to start working on it.”

With any luck, she wouldn’t be the subject of this one. Myrtle sat down and looked thoughtfully at her own plate of eggs. “Sounds wonderful, Elaine. It’s nice that you’ve been able to explore your creativity like this. The painting looks fantastic on Miles’ mantel. I let him have it over there to enjoy it while I’m staying with you.”

Elaine beamed at her.

Myrtle quickly changed the subject. “Think about it, Elaine. You’ve been waking up tonight hearing sounds that are either real or imagined. For me, I’ve been kept up by a dog barking…a perfectly ordinary thing, but still enough to keep me from sleeping. So if you and I are alert to sounds that should be
expected
, what about Agnes, who lives right next door to the Beauty Box? Shouldn’t she have heard a car pull up at a strange time?” She thoughtfully ate a forkful of scrambled eggs.

Elaine nodded. “Not only Agnes, but Dina. Why didn’t Dina hear anything?”

“Right! She’s living right in there
with
Tammy at the salon. Seems like she should have heard something when Tammy fell down the stairs. That must have made a huge racket. Tammy was a good-sized woman. See, I just don’t think that we’re getting the full story here. I’m going to have to ask a few questions.”

“Will you?” Elaine asked.

“Of course! You know I don’t like to be left in the dark on things.” She took a sip of her milk and looked at Elaine over the top of the glass. “Red hasn’t happened to share any information about the case with you, has he?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Elaine looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to say something. “You know it won’t go any farther than me, Elaine.”

“He did mention to me when we were turning in tonight that Tammy had given all her money to Dina and Kat. So it sounds like there could have been a financial motive at work, too.”

“Really? I know money talks, but I wonder if Tammy really had any money,” said Myrtle.

“I wondered the same thing. But Red told me that Tammy had a lot more money than he’d thought.”

Enough for Dina or Kat to kill Tammy before she acted on her threat to write them out of her will?

Because Myrtle couldn’t
really think of a good reason for a trumped-up visit with Connor Walker, she decided she’d make him a casserole. A visit would naturally go with it. While Elaine was out running errands, Myrtle spent much of the afternoon flipping through cookbooks. She skipped any recipes using time-consuming verbs like
de-bone
,
sauté
, or
mince
.

Myrtle finally found a likely candidate, but realized that she didn’t have many of the ingredients. Undeterred, she substituted milk for both the cream cheese and sour cream. By five-thirty, she’d put the finishing touches on her culinary masterpiece. She carefully placed the Pyrex dish into the bottom of a sturdy tote bag. Elaine opened the back door holding Jack by the hand. “Heading out?” asked Elaine. “Looks like you’ve been cooking.” Elaine had an anxious look on her face.

“I pulled together a chicken casserole from one of your cookbooks. I’m taking some food to poor Connor. I’m sure he’s devastated by Tammy’s untimely death.” The hymn was a constant refrain in the back of her head.

Elaine narrowed her eyes. “He didn’t seem too devastated at the funeral, as I recall.”

“He’s a typical man—burying his feelings. You know.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Walker is taking good care of Connor. I know you’re interested in poking around, but I don’t want you getting hurt. And it seems to me that questioning murder suspects qualifies as dangerous.”

Myrtle gave a dismissive wave. “I’m checking on him, that’s all. I’ve known Connor since he was a tiny baby. I’m practically Auntie Myrtle. He probably feels guilty about the way things ended with Tammy and needs an elderly shoulder to cry on.” Myrtle gestured to her own big-boned shoulders, which did appear designed for inconsolable sobbing.

“Just please be careful if you’re nosing around. Let Red and Detective Perkins investigate. Think of Jack and how sad it would be if he had to grow up without his Nana,” she said, pulling out her trump card.

Myrtle sighed. “Fine. I won’t pry.”

“Good idea.”

As Myrtle walked towards downtown with her odd-smelling bag, Elaine noticed that two cookbook pages were stuck together by what appeared to be cream of mushroom soup. Half of
Butter Chicken Casserole
started on one page with half of
Curry Shrimp
on the next. Poor Connor.

As Myrtle walked, she glimpsed Kat, in skin-tight shorts and a tube top, rollerblading towards her from the other side of the street. Myrtle waved and Kat skated over. “Hi, Miss Myrtle,” she said, with a shy smile. “Want some help with that bag?”

That virtuous feeling flashed over her again. Why not kill two birds with one stone and Do Good Deeds while investigating murder? Connor and Kat would make a remarkable couple. She’d noticed Connor staring at Kat after Tammy’s funeral.

With Myrtle’s mission as Cupid very clear, she did her best to appear as feeble as a tall, big-boned lady could. “Thanks, Kat. The bag was certainly starting to feel heavy.”

“Where’re you headed?”

“Oh, just to Connor Walker’s house. Agnes’ son, you know. I thought he could use a casserole. Do you know him?”

Kat shook her pink head. “No. I know he and Tammy dated, but he didn’t really hang out at the Beauty Box.”

“Do you think,” Myrtle feebly hobbled closer to Kat, “that you could carry it for me? Just until I get to Connor Walker’s house. And don’t you worry, I’ve got a casserole coming for you soon, too! I’m hoping,” said Myrtle nobly, “to offer solace to everyone who has been touched by this tragedy.” She sniffed in what she considered a realistic manner.

“That’s real nice of you, Miss Myrtle. My friends would have done something like that in New York, but not people I barely know. Thanks,” said Kat. She looked touched, but a little embarrassed too.

Myrtle quickly said, “By the way, Kat, I love the way you did my hair last time. You’re very good. And you were able to work under pressure. Tammy was really acting up.”

Kat blew out a breath. “She sure was. It was making me mad, too. Drinking too much after hours is one thing, but while she was working? She should have known she was going to drive off business that way. And
my
business, too, since we’re working together. What would I have done then?” An angry flush crept up Kat’s neck.

“Do you know what’s going to happen to the Beauty Box? Will it stay open?”

Kat gave a short laugh. “That’s the funny thing. Tammy willed the shop to me. Not only that, but most of her money and other stuff. And surprisingly, she had a pretty good amount of money. Now the cops think that maybe
I
pushed Tammy down the stairs to get her money.”

“But you weren’t even there that night, right?”

“I bolted from the Beauty Box as fast as I could. I was sick of it and sick of Tammy. Then I was so worn out that I fell asleep right after supper,” said Kat.

It wasn’t much of an alibi. “I know we were all mad at Tammy that day, but it’s got to have been an awful shock to have found her the next morning,” said Myrtle.

They were outside Connor’s house. Myrtle paused for a moment as if to rest.

Kat slowly nodded. “It was awful. I wasn’t sure if Tammy had even remembered to put the dirty towels in the washer, but that was our routine. So I opened the door to the staircase…and saw her.”

Kat looked directly at her. Or, actually,
down
at her, since she was taller with her rollerblades. “Your son is the police chief, isn’t he? Has he mentioned anything about what they’re thinking? I’m probably at the top of their suspect list.”

“Red?” Myrtle gave a dry laugh. “Unfortunately, he keeps me totally out of the loop. Why do you think you’re a top suspect?”

“Because of the money, mostly. I wasn’t exactly swimming in money before, so maybe the cops think I bumped Tammy off to get my hands on some. Plus there’s the fact that I discovered her body. That’s got to count for something, too.”

Myrtle thought it
did
count for something, and couldn’t think of anything encouraging at all to say. She reached out and rapped sharply on Connor’s door.

Luckily, Connor was home since it hadn’t occurred to her to call ahead. She’d have had to carry that casserole all the way back home, too. And it wasn’t easy to use a cane and carry a casserole at the same time…even if the casserole was at the bottom of a tote bag.

Connor looked a little bemused at the appearance of both Myrtle and Kat at his door. “Ahh…hi.”

Kat smiled at Connor. “Meals on wheels,” she said, pointing to her rollerblades. “Miss Myrtle made a delicious casserole for you and I’m helping her carry it.”

Connor quickly stepped to the side. “Come on in. Especially if you’re bringing food. And even if I’m not totally sure why you’re bringing it.”

Myrtle was already walking in. She’d gotten over worrying about being pushy a long time ago. Connor just wasn’t one of those people she ran into a lot in Bradley, so she had to make her own opportunities. “It’s a sympathy casserole,” she said, carefully maneuvering around some bachelor clutter before making her way safely to a sofa. “I know your mama has explained to you that people bring food when there’s a death of a loved one.”