him…and she wasn’t about to miss it.
When the commercial break started, Myrtle joined Red in the kitchen. “This is a late lunch, isn’t it?”
Red grunted. “And I didn’t get breakfast. I can’t wait until this case wraps up.”
“Early start this morning?”
Red glowered at her. “No earlier than you, Mama. Did you ever go back to bed after your two-thirty jaunt in the kitchen?”
“No, I was wide awake. Who knows—I might join Jack for a nap later.” She paused for a moment. “Gotten any closer to identifying the killer?”
Red answered cautiously, “We’ve got a few ideas.”
“The M.O. makes it look like the perp is a novice, doesn’t it?”
“Why, yes, Mama. The murderer’s a real greenhorn. Did you think there’s a Mafia hit man terrorizing Bradley?” His eyes were hard slits. “Perp? M.O.? You watching Murder, She Wrote reruns on cable again?”
“What if I am?” Myrtle gave him a disdainful look. Red had never given Jessica Fletcher her proper due.
Red held up his hand. “I don’t have time to argue, Mama. Got to grab a quick lunch before heading back to work.”
Myrtle gave a look that she hoped was just polite interest.
Red looked at Myrtle sideways like he was trying to figure out whether he should tell her something. “Detective Lieutenant Perkins wants to go back and question some folks again and wants me to join him. Says I should know how to approach the suspects and what they might be trying to hide.” Red sighed. “I don’t have a clue what was going on in these people’s private lives, Mama. I think this town is chock-full of secrets, too.”
It would be better if this ended up being Red’s idea. Red pulled mayo, mustard, lettuce and roast beef out of the fridge. Slathering bread with Hellmann’s, he said, “Hey, Mama, hear any juicy gossip while you were hanging out at the Beauty Box? Did you know who Tammy was picking on or what dirt she was holding over their heads?”
“Well, I did hear some gossip,” said Myrtle, in a tantalizing way. “Was there anybody in particular you were looking for information about?”
“Okay, let me tell you who we’re looking at…but don’t spread private police business all over town. We’ve talked to Prissy Daniels a couple of times, which you probably already know since every busybody in town was dangling out their windows when our car pulled in front of Miss Prissy’s house. We’ll drop in on Bootsie Davenport next. Both ladies have been evasive.”
Red took a bite from his sandwich and mumbled through it, “We got nowhere with Prissy. She kept spilling her tea all over the table, which made me wonder why she was so nervous. What do you know about her? I just know she taught me Sunday school when I was a teenager.”
“Prissy was probably just nervous because you were at her house. No man has probably ever passed through her door. Tammy was being snide about her, though.”
Red leaned forward on the kitchen stool. “Do you remember exactly what Tammy said?”
“Tammy was just taunting everybody—sort of a cat and mouse thing. She was making fun of Prissy as soon as she walked out the door. Prissy, as usual, forgot something and came back in the shop to overhear Tammy snickering over ‘our Prissy. She’s not as sweet as she looks.’”
“What dirt could anybody possibly find on Prissy Daniels?”
“Maybe she’s a closet alcoholic with a DUI in her past? Maybe it’s something scandalous that would really mess up her gig at Little Lambs Preschool. That preschool is her favorite place in the world. She’s always asking people at the Beauty Box if they want to come by and tell stories to the kids there.”
“A DUI? I’ve never even seen Prissy Daniels drink root beer. And the DUI, if there was one, didn’t happen in my jurisdiction.” Red rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. “It’s the end of the world if Miss Prissy is an alkie. What next? Bootsie Davenport was abducted by
When the commercial break started, Myrtle joined Red in the kitchen. “This is a late lunch, isn’t it?”
Red grunted. “And I didn’t get breakfast. I can’t wait until this case wraps up.”
“Early start this morning?”
Red glowered at her. “No earlier than you, Mama. Did you ever go back to bed after your two-thirty jaunt in the kitchen?”
“No, I was wide awake. Who knows—I might join Jack for a nap later.” She paused for a moment. “Gotten any closer to identifying the killer?”
Red answered cautiously, “We’ve got a few ideas.”
“The M.O. makes it look like the perp is a novice, doesn’t it?”
“Why, yes, Mama. The murderer’s a real greenhorn. Did you think there’s a Mafia hit man terrorizing Bradley?” His eyes were hard slits. “Perp? M.O.? You watching Murder, She Wrote reruns on cable again?”
“What if I am?” Myrtle gave him a disdainful look. Red had never given Jessica Fletcher her proper due.
Red held up his hand. “I don’t have time to argue, Mama. Got to grab a quick lunch before heading back to work.”
Myrtle gave a look that she hoped was just polite interest.
Red looked at Myrtle sideways like he was trying to figure out whether he should tell her something. “Detective Lieutenant Perkins wants to go back and question some folks again and wants me to join him. Says I should know how to approach the suspects and what they might be trying to hide.” Red sighed. “I don’t have a clue what was going on in these people’s private lives, Mama. I think this town is chock-full of secrets, too.”
It would be better if this ended up being Red’s idea. Red pulled mayo, mustard, lettuce and roast beef out of the fridge. Slathering bread with Hellmann’s, he said, “Hey, Mama, hear any juicy gossip while you were hanging out at the Beauty Box? Did you know who Tammy was picking on or what dirt she was holding over their heads?”
“Well, I did hear some gossip,” said Myrtle, in a tantalizing way. “Was there anybody in particular you were looking for information about?”
“Okay, let me tell you who we’re looking at…but don’t spread private police business all over town. We’ve talked to Prissy Daniels a couple of times, which you probably already know since every busybody in town was dangling out their windows when our car pulled in front of Miss Prissy’s house. We’ll drop in on Bootsie Davenport next. Both ladies have been evasive.”
Red took a bite from his sandwich and mumbled through it, “We got nowhere with Prissy. She kept spilling her tea all over the table, which made me wonder why she was so nervous. What do you know about her? I just know she taught me Sunday school when I was a teenager.”
“Prissy was probably just nervous because you were at her house. No man has probably ever passed through her door. Tammy was being snide about her, though.”
Red leaned forward on the kitchen stool. “Do you remember exactly what Tammy said?”
“Tammy was just taunting everybody—sort of a cat and mouse thing. She was making fun of Prissy as soon as she walked out the door. Prissy, as usual, forgot something and came back in the shop to overhear Tammy snickering over ‘our Prissy. She’s not as sweet as she looks.’”
“What dirt could anybody possibly find on Prissy Daniels?”
“Maybe she’s a closet alcoholic with a DUI in her past? Maybe it’s something scandalous that would really mess up her gig at Little Lambs Preschool. That preschool is her favorite place in the world. She’s always asking people at the Beauty Box if they want to come by and tell stories to the kids there.”
“A DUI? I’ve never even seen Prissy Daniels drink root beer. And the DUI, if there was one, didn’t happen in my jurisdiction.” Red rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes. “It’s the end of the world if Miss Prissy is an alkie. What next? Bootsie Davenport was abducted by
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