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.”
Connor still frowned. “Loved one..?”
Kat chuckled. “She means Tammy, Connor.”
“And don’t worry about Kat—I’m planning to put her on my casserole list, too,” said Myrtle hurriedly.
“I should be heading out,” said Kat, nodding at the door.
Connor smoothly interrupted, “Why not stick around for a few minutes and cool off, Kat? I’ve even got some Cokes in the fridge that I can pull out.” Kat pulled off her skates and Connor was back in a minute with a couple of Coke cans. Myrtle was impressed enough that he had a stocked refrigerator that she was happy to overlook the lack of a glass to drink from.
“I’m delighted to get a Miss Myrtle casserole,” said Connor in his deep drawl, “although I feel a little guilty accepting it. I thought that I mentioned to you at the funeral that Tammy and I weren’t technically
a couple anymore. In fact,” he said with a sigh, “we broke up the very night she died.” He looked at Kat, “Nothing against your aunt. And I do feel bad about the way things ended.”
Kat shrugged. “Relationships break up every day. Besides, Tammy wasn’t acting like Tammy. I’m surprised you put up with her for as long as you did.”
“You did tell me about your breakup. But I’m sure that you’re still hurting and feeling a lot of conflicting feelings about what happened.”
“That’s for sure,” said Connor. “It’s been pretty awful, actually.”
Myrtle tried not to look too interested. “I—um—didn’t realize that you’d broken up the night she died. Had you gone over to the Beauty Box, then?”
“No, we went out for dinner. I thought that Tammy wouldn’t make as much of a scene if I broke up with her in public.” He gave a tight smile. “I was wrong.”
Kat flushed. “I bet. Tammy really turned up the volume the last couple of weeks. She was yelling over everything.”
“Yelling is right…at the top of her lungs at the pizza parlor. I’m surprised you didn’t know about the break-up, Miss Myrtle—I thought the whole town would know by now. The police sure knew about it…I’m probably their prime suspect.”
Kat raised her eyebrows. “I thought I was their prime suspect.”
“Well, I’d be delighted to be proven wrong,” said Connor smoothly, with a crooked grin at Kat.
Matchmaking was going to have to wait until later—she still had some questions to ask. And this time there was no Agnes to stop her. “So when you dropped Tammy off by the Beauty Box after you broke up—that was the last time you saw her?”
“Oh, there was no dropping off, Miss Myrtle. Tammy pitched a fit and stormed out of the restaurant. I didn’t drive her anywhere. But that was the last time I saw her. And I do feel terrible about the whole thing. We weren’t right for each other, but we had some good times, too. I liked Tammy.”
“When she was acting like Tammy,” said Kat, nodding.
“Why would the police think you were a prime suspect?” asked Myrtle. “You were the one breaking up with Tammy—not the other way around.”
“I had a huge fight with her that was witnessed by ten or fifteen people. They think I brooded over it, then went back to the Beauty Box and killed her. Instead, I went back home for a few beers before hitting the sack. It had been a long day.”
Myrtle said, “Today’s been pretty long, too. I’ll leave you with the casserole, Connor.” He stood up and Myrtle said, “No, don’t worry about walking me out. I’m just heading back home.” She ducked out quickly.
There was an awkward silence for a moment before Connor said, “It’s almost dinnertime. Why don’t you stay and try out some of Mrs. Clover’s casserole with me. If you’re not afraid to eat supper with a suspected murderer.”
“I will,” replied Kat, “as long as you’re not afraid to eat supper with a fellow murder suspect.”
Connor made a good host. He pulled out his good china (the plates his mother had given him), the silver (family heirlooms Agnes had entrusted to him) and a bottle of chardonnay. They reheated the casserole, put it on the plates and toasted the meal.
Kat took the first bite, then chewed thoughtfully before spitting it out unceremoniously onto the china plate. “She’s trying to kill us both! This is rank!”
Connor took a tentative bite. He stood up and deftly dumped the casserole into the garbage. “Feel like scrambled eggs and toast?” he asked.
Kat did.