A Body at Bunco (16 page)

“Coming,” said a weak voice from the back of the house. There was the brief sound of water running from the bathroom faucet and some splashing around. Then a very somber and rather frail-looking Miles appeared, shambling toward the recliner.

“Goodness, Miles! You look horrid.”

Miles climbed into the recliner and pulled the old, brown blanket over and around him. “I do,” he agreed piteously.

“Do you feel as wretched as you look?” asked Myrtle with some concern. She knew that old men were not nearly as robust as old women when it came to illness. They could also be extremely dramatic and play up their misery for the crowd, but this time she thought that Miles possibly wasn’t playing things up. And she wasn’t in the mood for losing her sidekick.

“It’s been a miserable last twelve hours,” said Miles. He made a small waving gesture to encompass the saltines and the water next to him. “Thanks for this. I don’t know when you came in, but I know you must have been the one who put out food and water for me.”

He didn’t seem to want to dwell on the idea of food, however, and Myrtle saw that the crackers were untouched. “See here, Miles—I think we need to take you to the doctor,” blustered Myrtle.

Miles levied a horrified look at her. “I don’t want to go to a doctor while I’m feeling like this! I need to be near a restroom.”

“Here’s the important question. Have you been able to keep fluids down?”

Miles just turned greener in reply.

“I’ll take that as a no. You might be dehydrated or headed down that path. The doctor could prescribe you something to help repress the nausea. Miles, I’m going to take it upon myself to make an appointment for you at your doctor’s office,” said Myrtle briskly. There clearly would be no discussion of the case’s developments while Miles was like this.

“You don’t know his number,” mumbled Miles.

“It’s Doctor Phillips,” said Myrtle, flipping through the phone book. “You’ve mentioned him casually before and I have an
excellent
memory.”

“I shouldn’t drive in this condition.”

“You certainly shouldn’t. I will drive you to see Doctor Phillips. In a borrowed car,” said Myrtle.

Miles gaped foggily at her.

“You have no car right now, remember? Last I heard, you’re transmission-free. Excellent memory, as I mentioned,” said Myrtle, tapping her forehead. She dialed the physician’s number, made an appointment, and then hung up. “All right, so I’m going to let you rest for a couple of hours before your appointment, during which time I will be procuring a car for us to take to the doctor.”

Miles’s expression reflected an odd combination of dread and relief.

Myrtle left Miles’s house and headed absently in the direction of Red and Elaine’s house to see if she could borrow Elaine’s minivan. Since she couldn’t mull the case over with Miles, Robert’s conversation with her kept circling through her head.

It seemed very clear that Alma had some sort of information about Luella’s murder and tried to leverage that information by blackmailing the killer. She had certainly not been interested in speaking with Miles and Myrtle when they’d come by. And she apparently was no coffee drinker, either. Myrtle decided she might splurge on some nice coffee and quiz the shop owner about Alma, though. And, of course, she’d have to be on the lookout for women with pierced ears.

But first there was the matter of the car.

And somehow, with all the busyness of the case and despite the fact that Red, Elaine, and little Jack were making use of Myrtle’s facilities at all hours of the day and night, it still surprised Myrtle to see a backhoe in Red and Elaine’s front yard. A backhoe and half a dozen men who were doing things with dirt and pipes. She saw Jack staring raptly at the backhoe through his living room window. The little boy was obsessed with trucks of all makes and descriptions. This main line plumbing repair job must be a real treat for him—almost like having a symphonic orchestra playing in the front yard would be for Myrtle.

Myrtle waved at Jack, when he managed to pull his eyes away from the construction equipment. His small face lit up and he waved back and seemed to be calling to someone inside, probably Elaine, to announce Myrtle’s presence. Sure enough, a smiling, but rather harassed-looking Elaine, greeted Myrtle at the door just as soon as she knocked.

“Is this a waking nightmare for you?” asked Myrtle as she walked into their house.

Elaine always preferred to put the best possible face on everything. An eternal optimist. Myrtle wasn’t sure how she did it. “Oh, it’s not so bad. Only because you’re directly across the street, you know. We’d have to stay in a hotel during the repair if it weren’t for you … there would be no way we’d be able to stay in the house with no plumbing.”

Myrtle very much liked saving the day. She beamed at Elaine. “Anytime, Elaine. And anything you need.”

Elaine said, “Thanks. I’m going to come by in an hour or so and fill up a bunch of containers with water so that I can cook and wash some dishes.”

“Whatever you need,” Myrtle repeated. “And since we’re being so generous with each other, there’s something you can help
me
with, actually. Miles is … well, honestly, he seems completely wretched. He has some sort of appalling stomach bug that’s got him rather dehydrated. I need to take him to see Doctor Phillips in a couple of hours, but his car is dead. Could I borrow the minivan?”

That harassed look from earlier returned to Elaine’s face. “Oh, Myrtle. You know that of
course
I would let you take the car. I’d even offer to drive y’all there, myself. Especially with all that you’re doing for us right now.”

“There must be a big
but
coming here,” murmured Myrtle. “Some heinous thing has happened to the minivan?”

“It’s in the shop,” said Elaine. Her eyes were very bright suddenly and Myrtle was afraid that Elaine would suddenly break down—something Myrtle would very much like to avoid happening.

Myrtle said quickly, “I’m sure the car will be just fine. No worries, Elaine! I’ll just ask someone else if I can borrow their car.”

But Elaine didn’t seem to be able to shake the topic. “I’d love to think that the car would get better, but it doesn’t appear that’s the case. I’m starting to think that Red and I are being punished for some reason.” She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “The garage said the cost of repairs would be several thousand dollars, including labor, and that’s more than the minivan is worth. So I think we’re going to have to go car shopping. And Red is too tied up with these murders to be able to do anything personal. When it rains, it pours!”

Myrtle reached out and held both of Elaine’s hands. “Elaine, I don’t want you to worry about this. I will go with you to the car lot. I will help you find a car. Or possibly, we can go look for cars along with Miles. There’s apparently an epidemic of immobile vehicles in Bradley.”

Elaine looked a bit uncertain. “Myrtle, that’s lovely of you, but are you sure? I mean, I know you haven’t purchased a car for a while and dealing with car dealers is … well, you know. It’s stressful.”

“Dealing with Tim Rogers won’t be stressful,” said Myrtle. “He’s a former student of mine. In fact, I taught Tim Rogers twice and both of his younger brothers. He’s always
very
deferential to me.” Myrtle had big plans now. So Tippy’s husband, Benton, needed a new car and he was going to mention that his condition for buying at that dealership was that Roger’s Automotive continue advertising with the
Bradley Bugle.
Now both Miles and Elaine needed new cars. It was very, very lucky that some sort of vindictive sprite was attacking her friends’ cars. Wanda’s voice entered Myrtle’s head:
broke cars everywhere.

Elaine still looked a bit doubtful, but said, “If you’re sure, Myrtle, then I’d love it, thanks. Usually Red would go, but with him so tied up and taking the police cruiser all over town … Jack and I have been stranded at the house. He and I want to get me a replacement—an affordable one—as soon as we can.”

Myrtle nodded. “Let’s go tomorrow. But for now, I have to run. I still need to procure transport to this appointment.” She hesitated. “Have you seen Red at all, or is he still at Alma’s?”

Elaine blew out a deep breath. “Still over there. Or at the station, I’m not sure which. Can you believe it? Poor Alma. I really can’t imagine what’s going on … and Red isn’t exactly filling me in, either. I guess he thinks I’d just feed information over to you.”

Myrtle gave a high-pitched laugh. “How silly!” Of course, Elaine was a terrific informant. It was a pity that Red had caught on, although, she could think of one question to ask Elaine. “Out of the ladies who came to…Bunco, do you remember who has pierced ears?”

Elaine laughed. “Pierced ears? That would be the kind of observation someone who has a lot of time on their hands might make. I’m usually just trying to make sure I don’t have my shirt on inside-out.”

As Myrtle stepped outside of Elaine’s house and waved goodbye to Jack who was still glued to the window, she thought about the car situation. Most of the people she knew seemed fiercely protective of their vehicles … at least they had behaved so in the past when Myrtle had expressed interest in borrowing it. And she needed a car in the immediate future. Which left her with …?

“Hi Myrtle!” a nasal voice sang out from across the street.

Erma Sherman. Ordinarily, the sound of Erma’s voice would be enough to send Myrtle hurrying away in the opposite direction as fast as she could go. But today her neighbor may prove useful. She had an old Cadillac that was not the most attractive vehicle on the road but always seemed in working condition. But to borrow it, Myrtle would have to play nice. Or, at least nicer than she usually did with Erma.

“Hi, Erma,” said Myrtle, repressing a sigh. “How have you been?”

“How have
you
been?” asked Erma excitedly. “I understand that you’ve been hosting a den of murderers.”

Erma had become distressingly interested in Myrtle’s detective work. Erma enjoyed all types of morbid things, as evidenced by her enjoyment of discussing all her grotesque medical ailments. “Certainly not a
den
of murderers. Although there was at least one in the group,” said Myrtle coolly.

“And you’re figuring out who’s behind it, aren’t you?” gaped Erma. “Let’s see if I have any clues for you this time.” She closed her eyes tightly, which was apparently what she did to spur intellectual processes. “I’m trying to remember if I noticed anything unusual during your Bunco party.”

Myrtle said, “If you can see into my backyard, then clearly I’m doing something wrong. I do have a privacy fence up and shrubs, to boot. And the gate was locked.”

“Was it?” asked Erma. “Are you sure? You know that I think Dusty is a fine yardman, but maybe this time he left the gate unbolted. He was there that afternoon, wasn’t he?”

“He was, and no, he didn’t. Red checked during his investigation, as did the state police. And I’m assuming that you’d have noticed if someone scaled a six-foot fence on your side.”

Erma gave her braying laugh. “Well, I sure hope so! Because I was looking out the window that night, for sure.”

This fact did not surprise Myrtle in the least. She decided to change the subject to something that didn’t make her stomach hurt. “I’m glad to see you, Erma, because I wanted to ask you a tremendous favor.”

“You want to borrow my car?”

Apparently, Erma had gathered that this was the only reason Myrtle might seek out conversation with her or want to ask her anything. “Actually, yes. Miles has contracted some sort of dire virus and I need to drive him over to see his doctor. His car isn’t working. Do you need your car for anything today?”

“Nope! I’m going to be a couch potato today. Go toodling around as much as you want! I know how much you and Miles like to spend time together.” Erma took the car keys off her key ring, handed them to Myrtle, and leered.

Myrtle’s stomach lurched again as Erma’s breath assaulted her. Except this was no virus, just normal nausea from dealing with her neighbor. “As good friends do, Erma. I can assure you, however, there will be no toodling around with Miles today. He barely looks well enough to get to the doctor. And now I’ve really got to go. I have an errand to run in town before the appointment.” Myrtle started walking toward downtown Bradley.

“Don’t you want to take the car?” called Erma behind her.

“Not now. It’s an easy walk,” said Myrtle, cane thumping as she headed away as quickly as she could go.

The coffee shop was Myrtle’s errand. Although she strongly suspected that Alma had been lying to her about buying coffee in town, she still wanted to check her statement out. Besides, the coffee shop also sold hot tea and she thought some herbal tea might help ease Miles’s stomach complaints.

A bell chimed as she entered the door of the little coffee shop. It was certainly a cheerful place. Jazz music played in the background, cheerful checkered curtains hung in spotless windows. The only things Myrtle had against the shop were the unfortunate lack of available seating and the high prices of the offerings. Her taste in coffee ran a bit cheaper, which was one thing she apparently shared in common with Alma.

The proprietor, a smartly dressed middle-aged woman wearing a jaunty scarf smiled at Myrtle. “May I help you with something?”

Myrtle rested her large pocketbook on the tall counter. “Yes, please. I have a sick friend and wanted some hot tea to help settle his stomach. I was thinking peppermint?”

The woman beamed at her as if at a star pupil. “A smart choice. There isn’t a better option here for stomach upset.”

The woman busied herself preparing the tea and Myrtle said, “I was also wondering if you could provide me with some information. A friend of mine said she was here yesterday buying coffee. I was wondering if you remembered her.”

Without looking at her the woman shook her head. “She wasn’t here.”

Myrtle frowned at her back. “I haven’t described her to you.”

“Oh, sorry. That must have sounded rude of me. I mean, she wasn’t here because
no one
was here. The shop is closed on Mondays.”