"Vivian is going the opposite direction," Miles observed astutely.

"Heading right for the children's wing. I know a shortcut. We just have to approach the wing from the outside."

Unfortunately, it was still very hot and humid outside. Myrtle and Miles, due to their advanced age, no longer perspired much. But the humidity did a number on their hair. Myrtle's cane thumped dramatically on the sidewalk as she rushed for the children's wing.

"I'm not sure what excuse we can give for being in this particular area," said Miles.

"Vivian will be so busy with her child, she won't think a thing of it," said Myrtle with a shrug.

But Vivian did blink with surprise at the spectacle of Myrtle and Miles bursting through a side door into the children's wing. They gasped for breath from the sudden exercise and the flight of stairs they'd scaled.

"Are you both all right?" asked Vivian with concern. "Here, let's head to the parlor where you can sit down."

That suited Myrtle's purposes just fine. She melodramatically hobbled next to Vivian, who took her arm and led her to a silk sofa in the church parlor. Miles, red in the face from the exertion or from having Vivian treat them like invalids, sat down in a silk armchair.

"I'll find you some water," said Vivian, immediately taking charge. She strode out of the parlor and farther into the children's wing.

"You can see where she would be an excellent assistant," mused Myrtle, her breath starting to steady again. "She seems very organized and take-charge."

"And she's nice to seniors," added Miles. He still looked rather dejected at having Vivian think they were having concurrent heart attacks.

Vivian hurried back into the parlor with two paper cups filled with water. "Do you need some aspirin?" she asked solicitously.

Miles gave a small sigh. Vivian had indeed suspected heart attacks for them.

Myrtle, still playing to her audience, shook her head and gave Vivian a weak smile. She put a fluttery hand to her throat. "We were just overcome for a few minutes, I'm afraid. I'm so sorry we're keeping you here."

Vivian slowly sat down, realizing that Myrtle wanted her to stay for a while instead of dashing off to pick up her child in the nursery. "That's completely fine. I'll just make sure you both are feeling well again before I head back off."

Myrtle shone that weak smile at her again. "I'm sure it probably has something to do with the ghastly past week we've all had. All the awful news. It takes a toll on a body, don't you think?"

Vivian nodded. "Poor Jasper. I was shocked when I heard the news. That must have been so frightening for him—at the park, alone, in the dark. Then someone comes at you out of the darkness." She gave a shiver and then gave them an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. You're trying to recover from the stress of the week and a health episode and here I am making things worse."

Myrtle quickly said, "Not at all. I think it would be better if we talked it over. Don't you think so, Miles?"

Miles dutifully agreed.

Vivian said, "All right then." She hesitated then added, "Red came to see me again after Jasper's death. Do you know if that's something he did for everyone he spoke to after Luther died?"

"As far as I know. He has a particular protocol he has to follow." Myrtle waved her hands in the air to indicate the ephemeral nature of the protocol.

"I see. Well, I'm afraid I didn't help myself all that much." Vivian gave a grim smile. "I was at home with my little one and he's not much of an alibi. I'm sure I was awake when it happened, though, because Zack is relentless about waking me up before dawn."

"How awful," murmured Myrtle.

Miles quirked an eyebrow at her. Myrtle was ordinarily up far before dawn.

Vivian said, "Oh, it's not so bad now that I'm used to it. We have a little routine now. I get his breakfast together—Cheerio cereal—and his sippy cup. Then I make coffee. The coffee doesn't kick in right away, though, so I turn on the television and he watches cartoons while I doze on the sofa. That's the gist of my meager alibi. I certainly didn't leave the house."

"That early wake-up time must be tough for working a job," noted Miles solicitously.

"Actually, it's much better now because with my new job I'm working totally remote. It's so much more flexible than working for Luther was. It's made me reflect that everything happens for a reason. If Luther hadn't fired me and Dinah hadn't helped me find this job, my life would be a lot more complicated right now. Before, I'd get up before dawn with Zack, get him ready for daycare, pack up a bag and a lunch for him, pack a lunch for me, drop off Zack, then head to the office. Luther always had me work a very full day, too," added Vivian ruefully.

Myrtle asked, "How do you manage Zack at home while you're working?"

"Well, part of the time he's at preschool here at the church. He's enrolled four days a week. Then, at home, he's good to stay on a schedule. He takes very reliable naps in the afternoon after preschool is over."

Miles said wryly, "That might have something to do with his early mornings."

"Exactly! But now I'm getting so much work done while he's asleep that I don't want to get rid of the naptimes. Anyway, I have so much more time with Zack than I did when I worked for Luther. Plus, I'm not as frantic in the mornings anymore. The church preschool doesn't start until 9:00. The biggest thing is that I'm not as irritable and anxious anymore. I'm a lot more relaxed and Zack and I have a closer bond. When I worked for Luther, I felt guilty all the time. I either felt like I wasn't doing a good job for Luther because I'd be worried about the sniffles Zack had when I sent him off to daycare or I'd feel guilty because I sent Zack to daycare feeling under-the-weather."

Myrtle gave her a sympathetic look. "You were caught between a rock and a hard place."

Vivian said, "You sound like you know what that feels like."

"Oh, I do, my dear. I was a single mom myself. My husband died when Red was a young boy and I had to go back to teaching. It was quite a time." Myrtle paused. "So you actually feel like you came out better after Luther fired you."

"I do. I know I did say some really awful things about Luther after I was fired; I didn't react well to him getting rid of me like that. I feel terrible about the way I acted. I was just feeling desperate and worried and lashed out. That's not who I am as a person. But I would never have hurt Luther. I hope Red knows that. And I barely know Jasper, although I feel awful about what's happened to him. I would never endanger my child by putting myself in the position of being arrested. Zack would be alone in the world then."

"Do you have any more thoughts about who might have done this?" asked Myrtle. "You did know Luther so well."

Vivian sighed. "I've been thinking it over a lot. He did have the ability to really rile people up. But I keep coming back to the fact that Dinah really had the most to gain from Luther's death." She flushed. "I sound so ungrateful saying that. She's helped me so much with getting back on my feet."

Myrtle said, "Well, they say the spouse is always the primary suspect."

Vivian nodded. "She could easily have picked up the pie herself and doctored it at the house and just said that it was one of the foods that others brought over. It was a good time to use poison because so many people were bringing by casseroles and desserts."

Miles cleared his throat. "And you'd said they didn't have the happiest marriage. From what you could see."

"Right. Of course, we don't ever really know what's going on in someone's personal life, do we? But from what I could tell from my involvement with Luther and Dinah, they did seem to be oddly-matched. They argued quite a bit—I don't believe they even thought twice about it. Their arguing was practically a habit."

Myrtle said, "I suppose Luther was fairly well-off financially? As far as you know?"

Vivian nodded again. "He certainly was never a big spender. It wasn't as if he hoarded his money, but he didn't spend a lot of it. The business was always doing well, too. I'm sure Dinah is in an excellent financial position now." She shrugged. "Again, I really hate saying this stuff. Dinah has been amazing to me. But I can't figure out who might have benefitted more from Luther's death."

Vivian took a quick glance at her watch and then said apologetically, "If you're both feeling better, I should probably pick my son up now."

Myrtle was about to thank Vivian and send her on her way when someone who'd been swiftly walking past the door to the parlor suddenly stopped and poked her head in. Myrtle sighed. It was Tippy.

Tippy smiled at them. "Are you three having a party in here?"

Vivian stood up, looking relieved. "No. Myrtle and Miles had a bit of an . . . episode. They weren't feeling well. Actually, Tippy, if you could sit with them until they're fully recovered? I have to pick up my son from the church nursery."

Tippy looked alarmed but then as efficient as always. "Of course I will," she said with her customary grim efficiency when tasked with a responsibility.

Vivian hurried off and Myrtle hastily said, "We're really feeling just fine now, Tippy."

Miles added, "Never better."

"Nonsense. You're not putting me out whatsoever. We'll wait here until you're one-hundred percent again." Tippy gave them both an assessing look. "Did you go out into the heat?"

"We did," said Myrtle, straightening and trying her best to look extremely healthy and well. "I'm sure it was just the fact it was so humid out there that gave us a turn. But we've drunk water and are just fine. Aren't we, Miles?"

Miles immediately nodded. "Absolutely."

Tippy was never one to relinquish an assigned task. She knit her brows. "I'll get you some more water." She looked at the paper cups. "The water in these wasn't iced, was it?"

"It was definitely cool," said Myrtle.

Tippy pressed her lips together. "I'll just run down to the kitchen and get some ice water for you both. I can stay with you while you drink it."

She hurried away.

Myrtle said, "Let's go, Miles. If we hurry, we can drive away before she comes back from the kitchen."

Miles unhappily shook his head. "That wouldn't be very polite, Myrtle. Besides, she's concerned enough about our 'episode' that she might call Red to follow-up."

"You're always so ridiculously gentlemanly. She'd probably just think we had to find the restroom again."

Miles looked even more unhappy. "We haven't had to find the restroom even once."

"Well, if she comes back and makes us sit and drink that water, we'll certainly have to. And she's going to try to make you become a Methodist. And ride the church bus!" It was all too much for Myrtle. She stood up, steadying herself with her cane. "Let's get out of here."

But Tippy, who was a lot quicker than Myrtle gave her credit for, strode into the parlor with a small tray of waters and saltine crackers. As always, she was the perfect hostess.

"Stretching your legs, Myrtle?" Tippy asked briskly. "You're not getting stiff, are you? Why don't you change chairs? That might help. Oh, and I took the liberty of telling Dr. Fields about the two of you. He's on his way to check in."

Tippy was really taking her assignment entirely too seriously. Myrtle and Miles exchanged a grim look. There seemed to be no escaping this time.

So they sat there and drank down the cold water. Miles was shooting Myrtle daggers with his eyes. He was now doing two things he'd had no intention of doing—attending Myrtle's church and getting examined by a doctor.

Dr. Fields, apparently alarmed by Tippy, hurried into the room. He was an owlish man with thick eyeglasses. He gave Myrtle and Miles a sober look. "How are we doing in here?"

Myrtle said brightly, "So much better. I think Tippy's magical ice water has revived us. Don't you think so, Miles?"

Miles quickly nodded. "I feel great."

"Me too," said Myrtle. "Never better, as a matter of fact. We hate taking up your time, Dr. Fields. But I think Miles and I will just be on our way now."

The doctor looked relieved at being excused from his impromptu examination in the church parlor. "If you're sure. But Tippy and I will escort you to your vehicle. It's always good to be safe rather than sorry."

So they all trudged together to Miles's car. The unfortunate thing was that between the church service (despite all the hymns) and the enforced rest in the parlor, Myrtle was now rather stiff. She tried to cover it up as best she could by leaning heavily on her cane. Tippy, however, was eagle-eyed and noticed, a small line appearing between her immaculately-groomed eyebrows.

The good doctor and Tippy tucked them into Miles's car. Dr. Fields plied them with advice involving rest and hydration with electrolytes. Then they were sent on their way.

Miles said grimly, "I'm completely exhausted after all that. It's very tough to keep up a false pretense for that long."

"What? Oh, you mean about our joint medical episode." Myrtle shrugged. "It's not really that hard, Miles. Everyone expects people our age to be rife with health conditions. It's easy enough to play on their bias."

"Just the same, I think I'm ready for a nap," muttered Miles.

"At least we had the chance to speak with Vivian. I thought that was particularly enlightening, didn't you?"

Miles considered this. "I'm not sure it was. What did you find so interesting about our conversation?"

"The fact she blamed Dinah for Luther's death. The arguments she witnessed between Dinah and Luther must have been doozies. After all Dinah has done for Vivian to set her up on her feet again, it surprises me that she'd implicate Dinah like that."

Miles pulled into Myrtle's driveway. "Well, that probably has more to do with the fact that spouses are the most-likely suspects, don't you think? I can't really picture Dinah as a cold-blooded killer."

"Can't you? I think I can. It's not as if it was a messy or gruesome crime. Merely a poisonous pie."

Miles said, "Yes, but Dinah seems very upset by Luther's death."

"Not really. She's not upset by the fact she's lost Luther—she's upset by the fact that it happened in her house and she's not used to being alone. That's why she's having such a hard time sleeping. I don't think she's sitting around moping and missing Luther. He wasn't kind to her and he was generally disliked around town."

Myrtle turned to look at Miles. "What's on your agenda the rest of the day? Besides the nap?"

Miles sighed. "I really need to do some practicing for the chess tournament. It's tomorrow, you know. I have the horrible feeling Elaine is going to get in contact with me, too."

Myrtle shook her head. "I told you—she's playing the computer now. She should be leaving you completely alone."

"It's been such a busy day that I haven't even had the chance to fill you in. Elaine called me a little while ago. She keeps losing to the computer, even on novice, and can't figure out what she's doing wrong."

Myrtle said sadly, "I could tell her what she's doing wrong. Trying a new hobby. They so rarely go well."

"True. But she thinks I can diagnose the reason why she keeps losing. And I strongly suspect the reason she keeps losing is because she's bad at chess."

"Precisely," said Myrtle. "Just make sure she's set the level on the chess game to the easiest one possible. Maybe she's set it at a harder level than she thought she did."

Miles gave her a morose look. "I have the feeling that it is set on the easiest level. Anyway, visiting with Elaine is a possibility later. She mentioned that she'll need to come over after Red is back home so that he can keep an eye on Jack for her. So I guess it might be around suppertime."

"Or later," said Myrtle, raising an eyebrow. "Considering he's trying to track down a couple of murderers. Or at least one. Unfortunately, I told Wanda that I'd encourage Elaine's hobby, so I can't really say anything to her about trying to find something a bit more appropriate." She paused and then said, "Thinking about chess again. I was planning on coming to the tournament tomorrow, you know. I'm going to bring food."

"I don't think that's necessary," said Miles quickly.

"Of course it is! I looked on the tournament website and it explicitly mentioned that it would be wonderful if attendees brought food to share. I thought I'd prepare an elaborate snack. I've been on this website that has tons of recipes and ideas for snacks. Some of them are so clever. It made me feel quite inspired."

Miles looked wary. "Simple snacks are the best kind."

"What? That doesn't even make any sense, Miles."

"Yes, it does. If something is too elaborate, no one will want to mess it up. You wouldn't want to spend time on a snack that no one wants to eat."

Myrtle frowned. "Well, that's true. I guess I could end up producing something so amazing that no one will want to destroy it."

The wrinkles in Miles's brow eased a bit and he nodded.

"What sort of snacks go well with chess?"

Miles quickly answered, "Party mix."

"You mean like Chex cereal and pretzels and peanuts? That sounds more like a football snack than a chess snack. I think something a little sweeter might be good. Like the pudding I made. That wasn't elaborate."

Miles looked very concerned again now. Pudding had been one of Myrtle's more-recent disasters. "If you'd like to make something sweet, you could just put M&Ms in the party mix. Besides, football snacks are more like barbequed wings or nachos or sliders. Not party mix."

"Hm. I have the feeling you don't know very much about appropriate chess tournament snacks at all, Miles. Sugar will help everyone retain focus. It will give people energy. And it will keep the spectators from falling asleep. I'll bring a cookie pizza."

Miles gave her a wary look. "That sounds like a contradiction in terms."

"Not at all. It's a large cookie that you can cut into slices like a pizza. It will be perfect."

"You won't put tomato sauce on it, will you?" Miles seemed very concerned about this point.

"Of course not! Heavens, Miles, you're acting as if I might deliberately sabotage the snack I bring for the tournament."

Miles muttered something indecipherable under his breath. Then he said, "Okay. I'm going to go take that nap now."

"Enjoy," said Myrtle as she climbed out of his car.

Myrtle settled herself in the living room after making herself a cup of tea. It was the first hot drink she'd had in a while since it was so very hot outside. But today she felt like she wanted to spend some time thinking about Luther and Jasper's deaths. She thought about Dinah and the fact that she disliked desserts. The desserts made her think again about her cookie pizza. The cookie pizza thoughts made her realize she didn't have the ingredients in her house. Which made her come to the conclusion she needed a ride to the store. Miles, however, was taking a nap and she'd likely pestered him enough for the day, forcing him to church and making him have a medical issue.

Myrtle decided to call Elaine and see if she was available to go to the store.

Elaine, who always wanted to help if she could, sounded torn. "Oh, Myrtle. I could take you, but it would likely be the most stressful drive of your life."

Myrtle could hear the sounds of screaming coming from the background. "Are you and Red torturing my grandson?" she demanded.

"I think he's torturing us," said Elaine with a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Red can drive you, though. I'm just about to start trying to cook dinner. I can pick you back up after you're done shopping, though. It's one of those fifteen-minute recipes."

The screaming seemed somehow more piercing than it had a moment before. "Can you even think with that din?"

Elaine said, "Oh, I'm going to put my headphones on. He's just tired and won't take a nap. He's eaten, he feels well—it's just the fact that he's nearly three."

Myrtle hadn't been nearly three for quite a long time and was increasingly glad that was the case.

Red took the phone from Elaine. "Mama? I'll be right there." He hung up.