Murder on Opening Night: Myrtle Clover #9

Chapter Eleven

"Dead?" Myrtle wandered back over to the kitchen table and plopped down in a chair.

"That's right. Red just got the call a little while ago. Veronica apparently arrived at the theater earlier to finish fixing some set issues. She saw his body crumpled at the bottom of those back stairs that lead up to the back door stage entrance," said Elaine.

Myrtle said, "And I bet he didn't fall."

"Oh, I think he did fall. After he was hit on the head with something very hard. At least, that's what Red seems to think. Someone whacked him with something hard on his head and then he took a tumble down the stairs," said Elaine. "Red contacted the state police to let them know and he's out working it. But I wanted to let you know and ... of course ... I knew you were up."

"Thanks, Elaine. I'm sorry to hear this, but it does make things very interesting."

Elaine sighed. "And now I'm hearing stirrings upstairs so I better go ahead and get Jack's breakfast ready. I tried to go back to sleep, but when I heard about poor Roscoe, I just couldn't do it."

Myrtle thoughtfully set the phone back on the hook. She decided she'd share this new development in the case with Miles. Surely he would be up at this hour. In the unlikely case that he wasn't, she decided to bring a peace offering with her: a coffee tumbler with the coffee made just the way Miles liked it. With her head spinning with new information and with her cane in one hand and coffee in the other, she set out down the street.

About halfway to Miles's house, she gasped as something brushed past her. She relaxed when she saw it was Pasha. "Sweet girl," she said to the black cat. "Want to walk me safely to see Miles?"

Pasha was in quite the social mood and kept making little meows as they went as if they were holding a conversation. Myrtle talked back to her. She wasn't sure that she knew what they were saying to each other, but she had the feeling that it might have something to do with food.

As she walked up Miles's walkway, she didn't see any lights on in the house. He was about to get an early-morning wakeup call. She tapped on the door and waited. Pasha waited with her, bumping her furry head against the side of Myrtle's leg.

There was no answer. She knocked harder and waited. No lights came on; no one came to the door. Finally, she rang the doorbell and a minute later a frazzled-looking Miles answered. "Something wrong?" he asked blearily. "Hey!" he added as Pasha bounded in.

Myrtle slid past him inside, handing him coffee as she went. "Nothing's wrong personally, no. But we have another body on our hands. You don't mind Pasha, do you?

Of course Miles minded Pasha. But this time he was too busy thinking about the identity of the body. Which meant Pasha could stay as long as she wanted.

Miles's eyes grew large as Myrtle plopped down on his sofa. Pasha, likely wanting to butter Myrtle up in case there was a chance at some tuna, hopped up next to her and lay her head adoringly on Myrtle's leg. "Another? Whose?" Then he raised up a hand. "Wait, let me guess." He paused a moment in thought. "Veronica?"