Myrtle snorted. "Who has to pretend to be Miss Marple? I've already gotten a lot more information than Red could ever dream of."

Miles gestured toward the car. "Can we go? I don't think we're going to get any more answers by hanging out here now."

But Myrtle had spotted something. "You can wait for me in the car, if you want. I see Lieutenant Perkins just made it here."

Miles sighed. "Don't you think Perkins will be busy assessing the scene or whatever it is that ranking state police officers do?"

"I believe the scene has already been assessed," said Myrtle, walking with determination toward the tall, wiry man with the military haircut.

Red, fortunately, had not seen his mother progress toward Perkins and he walked up to speak with him. Myrtle could tell Red was explaining what had happened as he gestured toward different things. Myrtle figured there was a good chance for her to listen in, undetected.

They were faced away from her, looking toward Luther's house as she approached. She could hear Red saying, "The thing is, there's a botanist nearby. Ezra Blake. He probably has all kinds of poisonous plants over there at the ready."

Perkins said in his measured voice, "Was he someone with a motive?"

Myrtle hung back and waited for a moment.

Red shrugged. "Not that I know of, but it's definitely a line of inquiry I think we should explore." He suddenly stiffened and whirled around, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Myrtle.

Myrtle gave him a cheerful smile. "Hi there!"

"Mama! I thought you were on your way to breakfast."

Myrtle said, "Now you know I couldn't leave without saying hello to my old friend."

Lt. Perkins, always exceedingly courteous, even at an active crime scene, said, "Mrs. Clover, it's such a pleasure to see you. Despite the circumstances."

Red rubbed his forehead as if it was hurting him.

Myrtle gave Perkins an enthusiastic hug, knocking him slightly off-balance. "Perkins! I was just thinking about you the other day. Miles is going to be part of a chess tournament locally and I thought to myself that you were probably an excellent chess player. You should join in or at least watch the tournament. You're such a smart man; I figure you're probably great at the game."

Red said darkly, "Mama, Lt. Perkins doesn't have time to play chess."

"I'm afraid that's probably correct, Mrs. Clover," said Perkins regretfully. "Although it sounds like a lot of fun."

"So you do play," said Myrtle triumphantly.

"Guilty as charged."

"I thought so. Well, maybe we can wrap up this case quickly so you can participate." Myrtle gave him a smile.

Red intoned, "There's no we when it comes to the case. The police are handling this investigation."

Red gave Perkins a look and Perkins quickly added, "That's true. Mrs. Clover, I'm sure we'll be able to wrap up this case soon—perhaps even in time for me to watch the tournament."

"Excellent!"

Red said, "And now it's time for you to leave, Mama. You and Miles are heading to the diner, remember?"

"Right. Well, toodle-oo, Perkins!" Myrtle beamed at the lieutenant. Then she looked at Red crossly and said, "See you later, Red."

She walked back to the car where Miles, apparently wired on caffeine, was now sitting behind the wheel and looking a bit jittery. As soon as Myrtle sat in the passenger seat, Miles quickly drove off, as if trying to prevent Myrtle from accosting anyone else.

"So, the diner, right?" asked Miles.

"Apparently," said Myrtle distractedly.

"How was Perkins?"

Myrtle said, "He was just fine. We were able to chat a little bit. He might be able play chess with you."

"What?"

"Well, not right this second, obviously, considering a murder has just occurred. But he sounded very interested in your chess tournament, most likely as a spectator. He plays the game."

Miles looked as if he didn't fancy his chances playing against Perkins. "Sounds great," he said without enthusiasm.

They reached the diner quickly and were able to get a booth without any wait. The diner had been in downtown Bradley since Myrtle was a girl. There were laminate floors, menus, and tables. A sign on the wall stated: The language you use in church is good enough to use in here. Myrtle had the menu memorized.

The waitress came over and said, "Hi loves. What can I get you to eat?"

Miles was still studying the menu as if cramming for a final exam. Myrtle said, "Miles, how much money did Red give you for the two of us?"

Miles said, "Enough for you to order whatever you like."

Myrtle beamed. "All right then. I'll have the lumberjack breakfast."

The waitress jotted this down on her notepad. "With grits or hashbrowns, love?"

"Grits and hashbrowns, please. The surcharge is no problem."

"Toast or a biscuit?"

"Both," said Myrtle as her stomach growled at the delectable thought.

The waitress raised a well-drawn eyebrow. "And you'd like bacon and sausage?"

"Why not? At my age, one shouldn't have to eat a bunch of health food."

"No danger of that," muttered Miles.

The waitress, sensing a nice tip, was very cheerful. "And how do you want your eggs, darlin'?"

"Scrambled, please."

The waitress turned to Miles. "And you, sweetie?"

Miles cleared his throat. "May I have a glass of cranberry juice? And perhaps a bowl of oatmeal?"

Myrtle gave him a disgusted look.

"Of course you can, love." The waitress noted his order on her pad, gave them a smile and headed off to place the order.

"Miles, you're becoming positively monk-like."

He said, "I don't believe monks eat oatmeal and drink cranberry juice, do they?"

"Gruel, oatmeal . . . it's all the same. We're not young people, Miles. We should live however we please."

Miles said, "Well, I'm thinking I'd like to extend my stay on Earth by just a little bit." He noticed the individual packages of jams and jellies were in a heap on the side of the table and carefully started stacking them by flavor in neat rows. "How did your conversation with Perkins go? Aside from chess."

"What was more interesting was the conversation that Red and Perkins were having before I interrupted them," said Myrtle with satisfaction.

"You were able to do a little eavesdropping then?" Miles didn't sound at all surprised at this information.

"That's right. Red was talking about our friend, Ezra Blake. He's apparently on Red's list of suspects, which I do think is rather shortsighted of Red."

Miles said slowly, "Well, he is a botanist. I suppose it makes sense that he might be a suspect. After all, not only would he likely have access to poisonous plants, he'd know exactly what type of reaction the poison would cause."

"He would. But Red is leaping to conclusions, which is something he's fond of doing." Myrtle's mouth tightened in dissatisfaction. "Perhaps it's time to pay Ezra a visit."

This idea appeared to worry Miles. "On what grounds?"

"On what grounds? You sound like we're preparing to sue him, Miles. We're just going to pay him a friendly little visit."

Miles said, "A friendly little visit that's completely out of the blue."

"We're senior citizens. We don't need reasons to do anything. We simply do them. Age has its privileges."

Their food arrived with Myrtle's on multiple plates. The waitress plopped Miles's juice and oatmeal down in front of him and he stared at them with a crestfallen expression.

Myrtle quirked a brow at him. "You can have some of my lumberjack breakfast, if you want. You know you want to."

Indeed, Miles was gazing quite covetously at the generous spread of food in front of Myrtle. "Maybe just the biscuit."

"Sure," said Myrtle, rolling her eyes. "Live a little."

Miles plucked a fluffy biscuit off a plate and then took one of the jelly packets he'd carefully stacked and doctored it up. He said, "What did you think about what Dinah said?"

Myrtle swallowed a bite of bacon and took a sip of coffee. "I thought it was very interesting that her account of what Jasper had been doing there was so different from his own story."

"I didn't totally understand the connection between Luther and Jasper. They seem like people whose paths wouldn't cross much in real life." Miles took a large bite of his biscuit and looked very happy. "I was surprised that Luther would even know who Archie is."

"Remember, Luther followed local sports. He was very interested in the different teams. With Archie being something of a standout, I'm sure he followed his progress in the paper." Myrtle ate her scrambled eggs for a few quiet minutes while she thought things through. "Jasper is so invested in Archie that I know he'd be desperate not to let anything jeopardize his future."

"Wouldn't it jeopardize his future to have his father arrested for murder, though? Coming over with a gun is very heavy-handed, isn't it?" Having eaten his biscuit, Miles looked glumly at the bowl of lumpy oatmeal.

"I'm not sure Jasper intended on using the gun. I think it's more likely that he wanted a way to intimidate Luther and he decided that would be the way to do it. He must have planned on going in there, confronting Luther, making a plea for Luther to just keep the information about Archie's vandalism to himself, and getting out of there. Instead, he discovered Luther's body."

Miles frowned. "That's something else that confuses me. Shouldn't Dinah have discovered his body before then?"

"I have the feeling Dinah often gave Luther wide berth. He was a difficult man and she was already spending a good deal of time with him following his car accident. Perhaps she was just relieved that he was giving her what seemed like a quiet morning."

Miles shoved his oatmeal around the bowl with his spoon.

"For heaven's sake, Miles, just order something else. They'll have the food to you in fewer than ten minutes and we're in no hurry."

Miles looked unhappily at his food. "Maybe it would be better with some cinnamon sprinkles added to it."

"Maybe it would be better if it magically turned into a plate of eggs, bacon, and biscuits."

The waitress came up to check on them again and looked at Miles's oatmeal with sympathy. "Hey there, baby. Want something different?"

Miles hesitated. "I hate to cause any bother."

Myrtle swiftly said, "I think Miles is just envious of all the delicious food that I have and he needs some of his own."

"Another lumberjack breakfast?" asked the waitress, looking very pleased at the tab and her tip going up.

"That's too much food," said Miles.

"I'm planning on packing some of mine in to-go boxes for lunch. You just have to make sure you eat your eggs because they won't reheat well."

Miles gave a small smile to the waitress. "Yes, please. I'll have a lumberjack breakfast."

After the waitress left, Myrtle said, "There was also the matter of Vivian Lawson. Dinah brought up the fact that she might have some grievances against Luther."

Miles pushed his bowl of oatmeal to the side with relief. "Ah. His long-suffering assistant."

"Right. The assistant who bakes things. However, that pie, as I mentioned earlier, was decidedly store-bought. So being a baker is certainly not a prerequisite for this particular crime."

Miles sipped on his cranberry juice thoughtfully. "So the theory is that Vivian Lawson was unhappy about unfairly being fired. She decided to get revenge on Luther by killing him with a poisoned pie."

"It all sounds rather dramatic, doesn't it? Still, I'm sure she wasn't happy about losing a source of income. Her only source of income probably. He must have left her in a terrible state. And that could have really stung, especially if she thought it was without merit." Myrtle finished her sausage and then sat back in the booth, feeling full. "What we really need to do is find out more about the poison in that pie. Which is why a friendly visit to Ezra will work out so well."

Miles said, "So we're going with the assumption that it wasn't something like rat poison. That it was a natural, botanical poison."

"Precisely. That assumption is just based on what I overheard Red saying to Perkins. I do have that photo of the pie and I don't recognize the berries in the picture whatsoever."

Miles knit his brows together. "That's interesting. Could I see the picture?"

Myrtle handed over her phone and Miles peered at the photo. "No, I don't, either. They're not blueberries, raspberries, or strawberries, that's for sure."

"Nor blackberries or huckleberries." Myrtle took her phone back and studied the picture again. "The whole design of the pie and the latticework of the pastry on top would have made it very easy to insert the poisoned berries."

"True. It's not like a closed-crust pie." He considered the berry problem again. "Elderberries? Are those elderberries?"

"They're not. No, they're completely unidentifiable. By us, anyway. I'm sure Luther just thought he'd have a lovely piece of pie for breakfast. It looks completely innocuous."

Miles said, "Maybe. But the accompanying note gives me the shivers."

"The thinking of you message? Yes, that's pretty creepy."

Miles's food arrived on several plates. He immediately said, "Could I have a to-go box, too?"

"One step ahead of you, love," said the waitress as she put a couple of takeout containers on the table. "Thought you both might need these. And here's the check, whenever you're ready."

The waitress hurried off to another table and Myrtle said, "Now that looks like a real breakfast. None of that lumpy oatmeal stuff."

Miles seemed to agree with her, judging from how quickly he made a good deal of his order disappear. When he reached a stopping place, he walked up to the register to pay for their food while Myrtle packed their leftovers into boxes.