A Dyeing Shame by Elizabeth Spann Craig Read Free Book Online Page B

your garage. With functioning batteries.”
    “ You don’t need to do anything, Red! I’m fully capable of taking care of this myself. And I will—the very next time I go to the store. I had no idea the batteries were dead in that thing. I think having three or four smoke detectors is overkill, but all right.”
    Red stomped off toward the bedroom, probably looking for more safety infractions. “Got a suitcase packed?” he called.
    “Right there inside my bedroom door. And I’ve got a grocery bag of food to bring over with me.”
    Red joined her with the suitcase. “Now that’s something you don’t have to worry about. Elaine and I can afford to feed an extra mouth, you know.”
    “Just the same, I don’t want to be any bother,” Myrtle said righteously.
    Red seemed to be biting his tongue. He grabbed the bag of food and he and Myrtle walked across the street. Myrtle leaned feebly on her cane. “You just don’t know how much I appreciate this, Red, especially considering how you’re so busy right now. You don’t have a whole lot of time for houseguests, what with a murder on your hands.” Would he actually admit that it was murder?
    “Well, it will mainly be Elaine who has to deal with you, Mama. I mean, Elaine who’ll be making you feel at home. Murders sure don’t happen every day in Bradley. You’re right about being busy. I’m guessing I won’t be at home much while you’re visiting.” He looked positively determined.
    So Puddin was right. It was murder.
    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