Miles nodded, but his eyes were completely blank.

Myrtle sighed. "You're not following? Well, Agnes was done traveling. She was completely adamant about it, actually. Her traveling days were over and done with. Why on earth would she have suitcases out? And empty ones, in the middle of her hall? For a minute I foolishly thought that maybe she was about to make a run for it-that Agnes was Tammy's killer. But then I thought about little Miss Dina. She'd come by gathering donations for the women's shelter-her new, favorite project. I think suitcases would make an eminently suitable donation for a women's shelter. Something st.u.r.dy for the women to put their things in while they're in transition. I'm sure Agnes would have felt the same way."

"I hate to point this out, Myrtle, but that doesn't mean that Dina killed Agnes. Why would she have done it, to begin with? And even if Agnes did set the suitcases out for Dina, it just means that Dina hadn't made it by to collect them before Agnes died."

"There's also the fact that Madam Zora saw suitcases in her crystal ball."

Miles stared at her, unblinkingly.

"Oh ye of little faith!" Really, Miles should be more trusting of her instincts by now. "Agnes clearly saw something. Now, she's been really focused on whether Connor was somehow involved, but obviously there must have been something else that she saw that suddenly made her think. I believe that Dina came over that morning to get the suitcases before clients started coming by the Beauty Box. Agnes must have asked her a very pointed question and Dina freaked out and killed Agnes right there in her own backyard. She'd have forgotten about the donation, by then."

Myrtle continued, "And it's not just the suitcases. Remember I told you that Red said the killer had worn gloves, even though it seemed like a heat-of-the-moment crime? It always struck me as sort of an anomaly. If it was a spontaneous crime of pa.s.sion, why would the killer be wearing gloves? Then Kat told me that Dina was supposed to have dyed Kat's hair the night Tammy was murdered-as a practice run. Dina was all ready to start dyeing and then was too fl.u.s.tered to go through with it. We know how forgetful Dina is-Red mentioned that he saw her walking down the street holding hair shears and she nearly walked out with Jack's Dirty Doggy before I stopped her. When I was sitting with the Davenports at the diner, Dina came in with pink curlers in her hair. What if she still had the gloves on when Tammy returned from her meal with Connor? It all fits perfectly."

"Maybe it fits, but where's the why in all of this? Dina loved Tammy. For all intents and purposes, she's seemed totally devastated by her death." Miles took a restorative swig from his wine gla.s.s.

"Here's what I think happened. And I'll tell you what made me think of it...my soap opera. There's this character on Tomorrow's Promise who continues to get involved with these completely inappropriate men. They're these sort of brooding, ominous types. But finally, as sometimes happens in real life, the character snapped. She was put down one time too many and she ended up killing the man she was involved with."

"And this reminds you of Dina and Tammy how?" asked Miles.

"We know Tammy's behavior was getting worse. What if Tammy upset Dina by dissing her? Dina had a lot of respect and appreciation for Tammy. But Tammy seemed totally scornful of Dina most of the time. What if Dina were afraid of being on her own again and she lashed out at Tammy?"

Miles took his gla.s.ses off and rubbed them with a pressed handkerchief from his pants pocket. This usually meant he was about to suggest something that Myrtle wouldn't like. "If it all fits so perfectly, why don't we call up Red and Lieutenant Perkins and let them know? That way they can check it out and maybe even pressure a confession out of Dina."

Myrtle gave a scornful snort. "Do you really think Red is going to do anything about it?"

"Of course I do! It's his duty to check out that kind of thing, Myrtle. Didn't he take some sort of oath or something?"

"So what am I going to say to him? 'By the way, Red, Dina the manicurist is the killer. She gave away her ident.i.ty with suitcases, latex gloves, a crystal ball clue, and a soap opera."

"Okay. Well, let me in on your plan. I can't wait to hear this one."

Myrtle leaned forward a little on the sofa. "Here's what I'm thinking. I'll lure Dina over to the house by letting her think that I know something. Which I do. You'll be skulking around and will take pictures or video when she starts coming after me."

"After which," interjected Miles in a dry voice, "she'll come after both of us. Since she's obviously not really in her right mind."

"So you'll be armed."

"With what?" Miles said cautiously. "I don't carry guns."

"Just a knife or a baseball bat or a hammer-something to smack her with."

Miles drained his wine and reached for the bottle to get a refill. "I don't like this idea, Myrtle. I'm filming Dina trying to kill you? I'm hitting a woman?"

"A murderer. You're hitting a murderer."

"Still."

"Here's the plan. Sloan Jones, over at the paper, has been sending me reminder emails about my investigative news story. He apparently desperately needs more content for the next issue. So I thought I'd do a recap story of what I've learned so far. But at the end, I'll explain that I'm hot on the trail of the killer and have found out something very interesting following the death of my friend, Agnes." Myrtle was dismayed at the lump in her throat. She cleared it with a cough. "Maybe I'll write a sort of tribute to Agnes, too. If it seems insensitive that I'm using Agnes' death to catch a murderer, just remember that Agnes would want her behind bars, too."

Miles nodded. "All right. So you're thinking that Dina will read the story and come after you? What if she doesn't read the paper?"

"Dina reads it every day, as far as I can tell. Seems to like the horoscope section with all the goofy made-up stuff. But read it she does. And I have a feeling she's following the crime stories pretty closely now."

"Okay. Well, tomorrow is off. I've got to go out of town and find a wedding gift for my niece. And I wanted to find some nice new towels for my out-of-town guests to use."

"There are stores here, Miles."

"But I need to get something nice. Which is harder to find here."

"All right. I'll go ahead and take the story over to Sloan, and ask him to run it day-after-tomorrow. The papers are usually delivered around seven, so you can come here for breakfast and then hang out while I wait to get attacked."

"Sounds like a lovely day," said Miles grimly.

Myrtle sat in the cluttered newsroom of The Bradley Bugle and tapped her fingers on the small amount of desk that wasn't covered up with paper. She had her story ready to go. It was a masterpiece, really, considering what she was trying to do with it. It recapped what they knew so far, reported on Agnes' death (including a touching memorial in a separate story...that had actually made Myrtle tear up a bit), and then concluded with Myrtle's declaration that she knew exactly who the killer was and was only looking for evidence to support her discovery. Brilliant.

The wall clock showed four o'clock. Sloan should definitely still be in the office. She had other things to do, though. She put a sticky note on the top of the story with clear instructions not to run the story for another day. With any luck, Red and Elaine would be too busy to read the paper until Dina had had a chance to attack Myrtle.

Unfortunately, the sticky note wasn't very sticky at all. Soon it had curled up enough to fall off the paper and into the piles on the desk. When Sloan finally drove up to the Bradley Bugle building in his1970s model Chevy, and lugged his large frame into the newsroom, he never saw the little yellow sticky note. But he was delighted to see Myrtle's story since one of his regular columnists had fallen through and he needed about half a page of content for tomorrow's paper.

The next morning, Myrtle threw the paper onto her kitchen table without bothering to look at it. It was truly disturbing how the Bradley Bugle became more and more tabloid-y every day. The thing was full of celebrity news, local rumors, and silly opinions.

Myrtle plopped her last two eggs with some b.u.t.ter in the skillet to scramble, then happened to look out the window and notice that Erma had left her wheelbarrow right side up on Myrtle's side of the property line. It had rained last night, too, which meant there would be pesky mosquitoes breeding in the water. Mosquitoes that would likely only attack Myrtle since Erma apparently was immune. Probably had an understanding with the little beasts.

Myrtle grabbed her cane and stepped outside to tip the wheelbarrow over. She was turning to hurry back in when a shadow fell over her. "Dina," Myrtle said. For heaven's sake. She wasn't supposed to be here yet!

Dina said in a clear voice, "When you didn't answer your doorbell, I came around back. I let myself in through the back gate," she explained unnecessarily.

As Myrtle continued staring at her, Dina said, "Thought I'd drop by and see if you had any donations for the shelter." The sun glinted on the large lenses of her gla.s.ses, making it hard to see her eyes.

Myrtle answered, "No, I sure don't. Remember? Red helped me drop them off . You already collected things from me for the shelter."

Dina shifted from foot to foot. "Did I?"

"Was there another reason you're here, Dina?" She hoped it wasn't the one she thought it might be. With all the snooping that rotten neighbor Erma Sherman did, why couldn't she be gaping out her windows when she needed her to?

"I saw this article today. In the Bugle."

Shoot! That Sloan!

In a strange tone, Dina asked, "Do you? Do you know who the murderer is?"

Myrtle answered, "You are. You killed both Tammy and Agnes Walker."

"Why would I have killed Tammy?" asked Dina, almost as if she wanted it explained, herself.

"I think," said Myrtle slowly, "that you must have just been tired of being put down. That's only natural, isn't it? I was watching my soap opera-you watch Tomorrow's Promise, don't you?"

Dina nodded.

"Remember how Sally kept going for the wrong men? And they always pushed her around and were hateful to her?" asked Myrtle.

Dina said, "Then one day Sally snapped. And she killed Stone, who was the last man who was ugly to her."

"Exactly!" said Myrtle, beaming at Dina. "It wasn't that Stone was any worse than the others, but he was the final straw. I think Tammy must have been your final straw. She was your friend, but she changed and started being verbally abusive to you. It must have reminded you of your ex-husband-in all the wrong ways."

"She got you set up at her shop and allowed you to be her roommate at the duplex in the other half of the Beauty Box. She knew how to push everyone's b.u.t.tons. Maybe she told you how worthless you were. Useless to everyone. You couldn't understand how someone who had been so good to you could change so radically."

Dina said impa.s.sively, "I hated the way she was talking to me. But it wasn't just that. She said was going to marry Connor Walker and wouldn't need me for a roommate anymore. After she got married, she planned on selling the Beauty Box. I'd be scrambling for a job and a place to stay again. By myself."

"You were supposed to be dyeing Kat's hair. But Tammy had really done a number on your self-esteem before she left with Connor. You weren't confident enough to dye Kat's hair. When Tammy came back home early, she'd been drinking and was in a very foul mood from being dumped by Connor. She needed someone to take it out on."

Dina looked mesmerized by Myrtle's story. Myrtle continued, "Tammy's murder had all the hallmarks of a crime of pa.s.sion-spontaneous and unplanned. But the scissors were brand new, and didn't have any fingerprints on them. The police believed that the killer wore gloves and the crime was premeditated."

Dina waited for Myrtle to give the explanation.

"But you've always been preoccupied and lately were even more absentminded than usual, since you had a lot on your mind. When you decided not to dye Kat's hair, you still wore the latex gloves when Tammy returned a few minutes later from her date with Connor."

Dina nodded again and Myrtle took a deep breath. "Tammy started in on you. She was scornful and bullying. You say that she threatened to turn you out of your home and close the shop where you worked. You were scared and upset and while her back was turned, you reached over and grabbed a pair of scissors and plunged them into Tammy's back. The door to the bas.e.m.e.nt was open; Tammy had a basket of towels she was about to take downstairs and throw in the washer. You pushed her down the stairs."

Dina shivered. "There was blood everywhere."

"You appeared to have gotten away with it," Myrtle said quietly. "Then you discovered Tammy had left you money in her will."

Dina said, "She was helping me again, like she had at the beginning before she started drinking again. It reminded me of the old Tammy, the way she used to be. And it really made me mourn her more. She wasn't always a bad person."

"You wanted to do something good with the money, didn't you, to make up for what you'd done? You decided on a shelter for women like you who'd gone through the kinds of things that you had."

Dina's face changed when the subject of the shelter came up. Her face lit with fierce pride.

Myrtle went on, "For the first time in your life you were independent, doing something you enjoyed and believed in. You were determined not to be found out. And you thought someone knew about it."

Dina said in a vacant voice, "Agnes Walker."

Myrtle leaned heavily on her cane for support on the damp ground. "She must have told you something that day you dyed her hair bright blue. She asked you awkward questions about when you were at the Beauty Box the night of Tammy's murder and what you'd seen. You thought she was asking them because she knew you'd done it. But she was actually asking them because she was trying to find out if you'd seen anything to implicate her son, Connor."

"Connor? She never mentioned that she thought that I knew something about Connor. She acted like she knew something," Dina's voice rose to a shrill. "Other clients came in and interrupted us. I thought she knew! I thought she'd seen me leave the Beauty Box that night to get rid of the gloves. Stupid, stupid of her not to tell me she thought it was Connor!"

"So you went to go to see Agnes and confront her. You probably made an excuse to drop by and pick up some shelter donations. You must have sneaked around the back when you heard her getting some early yard work done in the backyard."

Dina was quiet, so Myrtle continued. "Southern lady that she was, she went in the house and came out with lemonade and gla.s.ses. You started asking her questions about what she knew about the murder. Agnes must have gotten agitated, thinking you were angling that you knew something about Connor's part in the murder."

"I wasn't sure what she saw. I thought maybe she knew something." She held out her palms to Myrtle, "I couldn't go to jail for killing Tammy. The shelter is still just getting set up. Things were finally going really great for me. I couldn't let my life get messed up again right when everything was so wonderful."

Myrtle fixed Dina with a stern stare "You thought Agnes knew you'd killed Tammy. Thought Agnes was going to tell the police. You slipped on her gardening gloves, picked up the shovel her yardman left out the day before, and hit her with it as hard as you could."

"I had to stop her from telling everyone what she knew." Dina's lower lip quivered.

Myrtle said tiredly, "She didn't even know anything."

"But you knew," said Dina quietly. She edged closer to Myrtle. "You even told the paper that you knew!"

"And now it's time let the police know. Let's go inside and call Red now. It's over."

Dina's eyes held a wild expression. "No, Miss Myrtle. It can't be over. Not with everything finally going my way. Not with the shelter. They need me there." She took a couple of steps toward Myrtle with a deadly focus in her eyes and hands outstretched.

A SUDDEN, PIERCING, wailing alarm blared behind them from the house. Dina swung around to look and Myrtle took the opportunity to raise her cane as far over her head as she could reach and bring it crashing down on Dina.

Dina looked like she was unconscious, but Myrtle had watched too many horror movies to just a.s.sume she wasn't going to rise up again and come after her. On the other hand, there actually was real smoke coming out of her kitchen window from the eggs she'd left on the stove. That Red had installed those smoke detectors he was fixated on. Bless him.

She had never been more relieved to see Miles' bespectacled face. He came rushing through her back gate clutching Elaine's abominable painting and looking back and forth from the figure on the ground to the smoke coming out of the kitchen.

"Call Red and make sure Dina doesn't get up off the ground, Miles. I'm going to put this fire out if it isn't too far gone already!" She turned toward the house, paused for a split second, turned quickly back to Miles, then rushed off again as fast as her old legs, hips, and knees could carry her.

Luckily, the smoke alarm that Red had surrept.i.tiously installed in Myrtle's kitchen was extremely sensitive. And loud. She'd put out the fire with the handy kitchen fire extinguisher he'd so thoughtfully provided for her.

The other exciting moment came when a sergeant with the state police hauled a handcuffed Dina out of Myrtle's backyard. Detective Lieutenant Perkins joined her on the sofa. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say, Mrs. Clover. On the one hand, you helped us apprehend the murderer, but on the other you interfered in police business and very nearly got yourself killed."

Myrtle ignored the last part. "Is this where I explain all my deductions and show you how clever I've been?"

Red walked into the room. He had obviously regained his composure. "Clever nothing, Mama. You meddled in our investigation and stumbled into discovering the murderer's ident.i.ty. Shoot, you almost became a victim, yourself. That would have just added a lot more work for us at the station. I can't believe you put that story in the paper to lure Dina."

Miles cleared his throat, "Actually, Red, Myrtle hadn't planned for the story to run today. It was going to run tomorrow and I was going to tape Dina trying to attack your mother."

Red stared at Miles as if he'd lost complete use of his mind.

Myrtle drew herself up on the sofa. "Besides, I most certainly didn't stumble into anything. I put two and two together. I made deductions."

"And how exactly," asked Perkins, smoothly interrupting Red who was starting to fuss again, "did you make these deductions?"

Myrtle beamed. "Well, the motive really came to me when I was watching Tomorrow's Promise." Perkins suppressed a groan. Red didn't bother suppressing his.

After Myrtle finished retelling her story, Red and Perkins looked thoughtfully at each other.

"I'm guessing that Dina used Agnes Walker's gardening gloves to keep from leaving prints on the shovel. We'll take a look through Dina's things and see if we can find the gloves there," said Perkins. "Although it's fairly incidental, considering that she confessed to us while we were still giving her the Miranda Rights."

Red's expression was baffled. "I never would have pegged Dina Peters for a killer. She's always been a little odd, but such an anxious, timid thing. And now her independence is gone for good. She sure went about that the wrong way." Myrtle was unable to get rid of the smug smile stretching across her face. "Your deductions may have been right on the nose, Mama, but you've done some pretty stupid stuff. Being nosy, questioning suspects in a murder investigation. Putting a story in the Bradley Bugle. I hope you realize how close you came to meeting your Maker."

Myrtle said calmly, "I think Dina ought to realize how close she came to meeting hers. After all, she's the one who ended up unconscious on the ground."

"But it was my smoke detector that created enough of a distraction for you to be able to crack her over the head with your cane."

"But it was my scrambled eggs that caused the smoke detector to go off to begin with."

Red rolled his eyes. "Like that was part of a master plan! For you, burning something is just called 'mealtime.' It's an everyday occurrence."

Myrtle gave him a stony look. "You know," she said, "I haven't put my gnomes out for a while. They get kind of cramped in that shed, you know. I think it might be time for a good airing out."

"All I'm doing, Mama, is questioning your judgment. And I think that's a reasonable thing to be a.s.sessing right now. It seems to me like you're making a lot of errors in judgment."