Chapter Fourteen
Still watching through binoculars, Myrtle mused, “What on earth could his motivation be? It’s easy to see why Bootsie’s so crazy about him. But what’s driving him?”
“Money,” answered a dry voice from outside their rolled down windows. Myrtle and Miles jumped half a mile as Red’s angry face appeared through Myrtle’s window. They’d been so absorbed in their surveillance that the arrival of Red’s police cruiser had gone completely unnoticed. “Hi, Mama,” he said in a tight voice. “Miles. Thought I recognized the car. What the blazes are y’all doing out here?”
“Just following up on a lead for my Bradley Bugle story,” answered Myrtle calmly. “We’re on a stakeout. What are you doing out here?”
Red barely held his temper in check. “This is my beat. And I thought you were watching Jack today, Mama.” He peered into Miles’ backseat as if looking for a car seat and a red-headed toddler.
“Elaine didn’t need me to look after Jack today, after all. You know I wouldn’t bring him on a stakeout.”
“On a stakeout,” repeated Red in disbelief. “No, I wouldn’t ordinarily place Jack at a stakeout. But I wouldn’t put my mother there, either.”
“You should be proud of us,” said Myrtle firmly.
“Have you had a mild stroke? Why on earth should I be proud of you?”
“I followed leads to find out what was behind Bootsie’s secretive behavior.” Myrtle paused for a minute to give Red the opportunity to applaud her detective work, but continued talking when the adulation wasn’t forthcoming. “So I asked Miles to drive me out here. It was my idea and not Miles’.”
“Mama, it never occurred to me in a million years that this was Miles’ brainchild.”
“Anyway, we got to the bottom of Tammy’s hold on Bootsie. She’s seeing some young guy and obviously doesn’t want her husband to find out. Otherwise, she’d lose the easy life she’s been living.” Then she frowned. “Wait a minute. How’d you know his motive was money—and how’d you know what we were talking about?”
“Because,” replied Red in a world-weary voice, “I’m well aware of Mrs. Davenport’s goings-on. I could’ve told you all about them.”
Myrtle gaped at him and he continued, “She makes sure he has everything he needs to be comfortable. She gets a big allowance from the Judge, apparently.”
“Wait a minute,” said Myrtle. “Shouldn’t you be arresting him for prostitution?”
Red snorted derisively. “I’d have to arrest Bootsie herself if I went by that standard. Her husband has basically been paying Bootsie for thirty years to stick around. I think it’s more of a sugar mama relationship. But you’re right—I’m sure that Bootsie doesn’t want the Judge to know about it. Maybe he sort of knows what she’s up to, but he would divorce her for sure if he were publically humiliated.”
“Myrtle,” said Miles in a carefully patient tone, “I’m ready to grab some lunch. Can we get out of here and head for the diner or something?”
“I guess,” said Myrtle, still a little irritated about the fact that Red already knew about Bootsie’s affair. “Red, do you want to join us?” At least maybe she could try to find out what else he knew.
“No, I’m still on patrol. I’m going to have to grab a late lunch today. Then I’ve got to meet up with Lieutenant Perkins to do another interview.”
Myrtle’s radar instantly went up. “Connor Walker, maybe?”
“None of your business, Mama.” Which only confirmed to Myrtle that she was right.
Customers still packed Bo’s Diner when Miles and Myrtle arrived at one-thirty. When a booth freed up, they slid in on its vinyl seats. “Fried chicken plate looks good,” mused Myrtle. A pink head entered her peripheral vision. Kat said, “Got some tips for your column, Miss Myrtle.”
Myrtle blinked a little at the thought of Kat having any kind of home tips, but she plucked out a pen and paper from her large pocketbook. “Shoot.”
Kat cleared her throat for effect. “After painting a room, put your leftover paint in an empty mustard or ketchup bottle to squeeze out and spread for touch-ups, later. Also, instead of using lemon juice to keep peeled apples and bananas from browning in the air, try pineapple juice. It adds a little something extra to the fruit besides keeping it pretty,” said Kat.
Myrtle slid over and patted the booth next to her for Kat to sit down. “You do surprise me, Kat. I never would have pegged you for a painter or a cook. Got any other hidden talents? Horseback riding? Piloting planes?”
Kat laughed. “No, that’s about it.”
“Well, I’m proud of you. There aren’t many people who’ve had the rough past that you’ve had who are able to turn things around and make their life better. Good for you!” said Myrtle, beaming.
“Thanks,” said Kat. “Although I’ve had some pretty low moments here in Bradley, too, where I was wondering if I’d done the right thing to move near Tammy. But now it looks like it’s all going to work out just fine.”
Miles nodded. “For a while it must have seemed like Tammy was trying to undo all the progress you’d made. I hear she was really driving customers off. You probably wondered if the Beauty Box was going to survive.”
“She was screwing up all her chances and I thought she was going to try to take me down with her, just like my mom had done. I couldn’t let that happen to me again,” said Kat.
When Myrtle and Miles stared at her, Kat said, “Her death solved a lot of problems for me, for sure.” When they continued to stare at her, she gave a short laugh. “Hey, I didn’t kill her. But I’m glad someone else did so that I didn’t have to.”
Tentatively, Myrtle said, “I’ve heard that Tammy left you and Dina a nice legacy, Kat.”
Kat nodded her pink head. “I was really glad to hear about it. I want to upgrade the shop and bring in some more people; maybe a younger clientele and another couple of girls to do hair.”
“I was surprised that Tammy had such a substantial amount to pass on. Especially with her drinking problem.”
“She probably drank a lot of it away, but she didn’t spend money on other stuff. And she had a lot of it to go through. Her grandmother got filthy rich a few years ago from winning a malpractice lawsuit. Then she passed away the next year. My mom didn’t get a cent because my grandmother wasn’t even speaking to her by then. I wish Granny had sent some to me, but it was her money to do with what she wanted.”
Kat said, “I’m going to use her money to turn over a new leaf, which is what Tammy should have used it for. The Beauty Box needs some sprucing up, too. I started just getting rid of the old magazines. Once I did that, the tables looked all stained and beat up, so I put in some nicer ones. The new tables made me realize how bad the walls looked, so I took down the tacky hair posters and started painting yesterday. It’ll be a whole new Beauty Box by the time I’m done.”
Kat glanced at her watch. “Hey, it was good talking, but I’ve got to run. I’ve got a two o’clock and Dina is holding down the fort while I’m gone...if she hasn’t gone AWOL and headed for the shelter, that is.”
Myrtle said, “She’s still spending a lot of time over there?”
Kat nodded. “Every spare minute. Not that it’s really a bad thing. But she’s kind of going overboard with it. She must have been voted “Most Likely to Join a Cult” in her high school yearbook.”
Miles watched Kat leave. “So what do you think, Sherlock? Did Kat do it?” he asked in a low voice.
Myrtle took a sip from her sweet tea before stage whispering, “I hope not. I really like her. But she could have murdered Tammy, sure.”
Miles said, “She sure had the opportunity. She spent almost as much time at the Beauty Box as Dina. She could have easily come back there that night, killed Tammy, then returned to “discover” her the next morning.”
Myrtle nodded, slowly. “She could have. But I don’t know. It seems like you and I are missing something.” She thought for a minute, sipping her tea. “Nope
, can’t pin it down.” Myrtle pulled out her cell phone. “I forgot I had this thing on vibrate while we were at our stakeout.”
“Did somebody call?”
Myrtle nodded, putting in her voice mail code. “It’s Agnes. She says she has a tip for the column. I don’t know why everybody is suddenly so flush with tips. I go for months with nothing and am begging people to send me something. Maybe Sloan is trying to beef up my column since he’s so low on content for the paper right now. I guess I’ll call her when I get back home.”
“So, based on everything you know today,” said Miles, “which suspect are you leaning toward?”
“Bootsie,” said Myrtle firmly. “Or, well, maybe Kat or Dina. I know Tammy was babbling on about her will and changing it—if they knew they were getting money, that might have been reason for murder. Oh, who knows. This case has been a doozy.”