Two o’clock in the morning was a rough time of day if you were someone’s insomniac houseguest.
You can’t sleep. But you can’t really get up, and wake the whole house.
For a while Myrtle resigned herself to contemplating the guest room ceiling. If she were at home, she’d get up and be productive—put away the pots and pans she’d put in the sink to soak, fold some clean laundry, pay a couple of bills. Or do a few crossword puzzles. But here she had a feeling she’d just bang into things and wake Jack up. Everybody knows the rule—you don’t wake sleeping toddlers. Ever.
The other thing she’d do, if she were home, was go on a walk. Naturally, she’d end up at Miles’ house. Miles was an insomniac too, bless him, and she’d almost always see a light on and go over and knock on his door. They’d have a cup of tea or a glass of wine, then Myrtle would walk back home and sleep soundly the rest of the night. The longer she contemplated the guest room ceiling, the better this plan seemed. She could talk with Miles some more about the case, too.
Myrtle pulled on her long robe, grabbed her cane, and conscientiously locked the door behind her with her copy of their house key. She set off down the silent street.
There was a little moon to light her way as she walked. And, sure enough, there was a light on in Miles’ front window. They really formed a mini insomniacs support group.
Myrtle rapped on Miles’ door and he immediately opened it. He wore a long, navy-blue bathrobe belted tightly over what looked like plaid pajamas. “Want some tea?” he asked, heading to his kitchen, slippers flopping as we walked. He looked completely unsurprised and started pulling out the measuring cup he used to boil water in.
“Did you even look out the peephole before you opened the door? Because there’s a killer out there, remember?” Myrtle followed him into his kitchen and pulled out two teacups.
“No, of course I didn’t look. It’s two o’clock in the morning, Myrtle. Who else visits me this time of day? At least I was awake this time. I don’t always have a hard time sleeping, you know. Are we really convinced there is a killer? Do killers knock on doors, anyway?”
“I’m sure they would if they knew that you’d just open the door right up. Never mind. I woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep, started thinking about the case, and decided to visit. Oh. And I decided to assign you a mission, since you’re all gung-ho about being a sidekick.”
Maybe gung-ho was the wrong word. Miles was looking decidedly apprehensive.
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “What kind of mission? I’m not going to be able to fly under Red’s radar as much if we overdo my snooping around.”
Myrtle waved her hand dismissively. “Where you’re going wrong with your information-gathering technique is that you’re passing it off like idle gossip or being snoopy. What you do well is polite concern.”
“Polite concern.”
“Yes. You don’t want to be involved with the problem, but you’re politely providing an ear for the poor person who is in need of getting something off her chest. That’s your angle,” said Myrtle.
The microwave bleated, announcing that the water was heated. Myrtle put tea bags in their cups and Miles covered them with hot water. “And whom am I supposed to be directing this polite concern toward?”
“That’s what I was mulling over. I’m leaning toward Dina. She’s absolutely pitiful and she’d be a natural choice for you to be sympathetic to. She might be the only person around who still liked Tammy. And, after all, she was her housemate. Maybe she saw or heard something on the night of the murder. I mean, really, can someone be the victim of a violent crime and fall down a staircase and not be heard? Tammy wasn’t a small woman.”
Miles took a sip of his tea and winced at the hot water. “You have a point. We should find out what Dina was doing when Tammy was murdered. Actually, we should find out when Tammy was murdered, period. Got any ideas on finding out the time of death? It’ll be hard to figure out if alibis are genuine unless we know the estimated time of death.”
“You’re starting to sound like one of those forensic crime shows, Miles.”
“It’s the truth! And, considering where you’re staying, it seems to make more sense for you to be the one to find out when Tammy died. I’m sure Red knows. Maybe even Elaine knows, if Red is in the habit of talking with her about cases.”
“All right. I guess I’ll do the dirty work, then. And you go see Dina and pat her on the back for a while.”
A loud knock on Miles’ front door made both of them jump. “Better look through that peephole this time,” murmured Myrtle. “Considering that it’s definitely not me out there.”
Miles cautiously looked out. “It’s Red.” he said as Myrtle cursed.
“Evening, Miles,” said Red, courteous as usual to the older man. “Do you, by any chance, have my deranged mother over here for a visit?” Then he looked at Myrtle and shook his head. “I thought I should probably do a bed-check on you, so I set an alarm. Sure enough, you weren’t in your room when I checked. Aren’t you a little old to be sneaking out in the middle of the night?”
Myrtle tried to look as dignified as an octogenarian in a bathrobe could possibly pull off. “I was trying to spare y’all, that’s all. I didn’t want to wake up the whole house with my insomnia. Especially Jack. He gets up early enough as it is…a two a.m. wake up call was a little too much.”
“He sure does get up early.” Red looked sleepy just thinking about it.
“Tell you what—since I’m disturbing your sleep and probably Elaine’s too, how about if I go on Jack-duty later this morning? When he wakes up, he can spend some quality time with his Nana.” Myrtle felt pleased with herself. It was nice to Do Good. Traces of an old hymn floated through her brain.
Red rubbed his temples. “I suppose so, Mama. But can you just come back home with me and stop imposing on Miles? I can’t sleep until I know you’re safely back in bed.”
Myrtle blinked at him. “I can’t imagine why you’re so concerned, Red. After all, Tammy’s killer acted first thing in the morning before the Beauty Box opened. He’s probably conked out somewhere, fast asleep and dreaming evil thoughts…not out attacking little old ladies in the middle of the night.”
“Where did you get the idea that she was killed in the morning? No, she was murdered sometime the night before. So it’s not safe to be traipsing around Bradley, North Carolina, in your PJs.” Red strode to Miles’ door and Myrtle turned and gave Miles a long wink. Apparently the key to weaseling information from Red was to trick it out of him in the wee hours of the morning.