Progressive Dinner Deadly: Myrtle #2

Chapter Six

"That cat," Myrtle told Elaine, "is living the high life." Watching the cat eliminating the squirrel population had turned out to be great fun. She'd had to call Elaine to tell her about it. "She's hunting like a maniac, just for fun. Pigging out on dry cat food and tuna in my backyard. She's going to be one fat, happy kitty." 

"Uh-oh. I think I forgot to explain something. There's more to the Friends of Ferals program." 

"I thought you told me I should feed and water the cat and keep it outside and that was it!" 

"No, no. Well, yes, you're supposed to feed and water it and leave it outside. But you've got to capture the cat first of all. Then I'll drive you and the cat to the vet that participates in the program and we'll get it spayed or neutered. And give it its shots. Because it could end up with rabies or something! You've got to protect yourself and the cat first." 

Myrtle was stuck at capture the cat. "Capture the cat? Wait in the bushes with a bedspread? It all seems very cloak and dagger. She trusts me now." 

Elaine said slowly, "Do you have feelings for the cat now, Myrtle? It sounds like..." 

"Of course not. This is a wild animal we're talking about. Undomesticated. It just seems like...a dirty trick, that's all." 

"I'm sure it won't hold it against you, Myrtle. You won't even be around when the cat is caught. Hold on, I'll come right over." 

A few minutes later, Elaine was at Myrtle's house, equipment in tow. "This will be a piece of cake. We're just going to leave the food in the trap. The cat has gotten a few meals from you, so it should be easy-peasy getting her into the trap. She'll just think she's getting her usual meal. Then the trap will close and tomorrow morning we'll take her to the vet." 

Late that night, when Myrtle's usual insomnia struck, she peeked out the kitchen window into the backyard. The food was gone and there was no cat in the trap. Myrtle smiled.

Myrtle did try to go back to sleep after checking the cat trap. But she couldn't stop thinking about the casserole dishes at Jill's house. Had Tippy made a note of the women from book club who'd signed up to help Jill out by bringing a side to supper club? All of those women would have dropped off food and been in Jill's house-all, obviously, before her murdered body lay on the floor. Except for the killer.  

Myrtle peeked out the side window. Was Miles up, too? She checked the kitchen clock. Two a.m. It was her normal time for waking up, and Miles's too. She absently pulled on a long raincoat over her nightgown for decency's sake, took her cane from beside the door, and strolled out into the warm night.  

Erma's lights were out, she noted with relief. All she needed was Miss Nosy charging out of her house and pointing a flashlight on her. When she got closer to Miles's house, she frowned. She couldn't really tell if his lights were on or not. There was sort of a dim light coming from one of the windows, but that could maybe be a light you'd leave on all night in the kitchen. Or a bathroom nightlight. Or... 

"Mama!" hissed beside her.  

Myrtle jumped and whirled around to see Red glaring at her from his police car window. "Red!" she fussed. "You scared the living daylights out of me." 

"Well, you're scaring me, floating around in the middle of the night like a ghost. What the devil are you doing out here at two a.m.?" 

"What the devil are you doing out here at two a.m.?" asked Myrtle. 

"I'm on patrol, Mama. Making sure Bradley's skillet killer isn't on a murdering rampage. Now what are you doing again?" 

Myrtle fidgeted with the hem of her raincoat. "I'm just seeing if Miles's lights are on. Or out. I had this thought about the casserole dishes at Jill's house and wanted to ask him about it."