A Body in the Backyard (6 page)

Miles looked blankly at her.

“For heaven’s sake, Miles! You haven’t already forgotten, have you?  The family reception that I’m having for you and your loved ones! At my house! After the funeral!”

“My loved ones?” Miles chuckled. “I wouldn’t call them that, actually. We’ll just leave it at family. Yes, I remember all about it now…thanks.”

“Were family members calling you up yesterday afternoon and trying to get information from you about the funeral plans?” asked Myrtle.

“No, they weren’t. I really don’t know who even knows or particularly cares about Cousin Charles’s death. He was a black sheep, after all. I can’t imagine that I’m the only one who isn’t interested in claiming him.”

Myrtle said, “What about your aunt?  Surely you’ve talked to her.”

Miles sighed. “I have. She’s distraught in sort of a melodramatic and possibly not very genuine way. She said that the police told her that she would be able to have the funeral four days from now. So…if you’re determined to host people at your house…I guess you can plan it for then. Although I’m still baffled why you’d want to.”

“Mostly I’m trying to look for suspect reactions,” said Myrtle.

Miles raised his eyebrows. “Do you know who the suspects even are?”

“Not really. That’s another reason why I want these people over. It’ll give me a chance to look at them, listen to them, and figure out their connection to your cousin. Maybe it’ll even give me the opportunity to learn which of them might have wanted to do away with him,” said Myrtle. She frowned thoughtfully. “Although, it sounds as if your family may not be cooperative. So I’ll make it an open invitation to anyone who attends the funeral service.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?  What if a bunch of people end up showing up at your house?  You don’t have a whole lot of room, you know,” said Miles.

“Then they can just go spilling out into the yard,” said Myrtle with a shrug. “I’m not worried. It’s not like they’re sleeping there or anything. I can handle anything for a couple of hours. Speaking of my yard, I was thinking about putting a sort of makeshift memorial in my yard.” As Miles squinted at her in confusion, Myrtle irritably explained, “You know. To mark the spot where Charles met his Maker.” Miles kept squinting at her. “People do that! I see it all the time.”

“What…like a bunch of pink and blue teddy bears with balloons and roses?” Miles’s voice was very doubtful. “That doesn’t sound like Cousin Charles.”

“Oh. Okay. Maybe a simple vase of roses?” Myrtle asked.

Miles shook his head.

“A white cross?  It could be discrete.”

Miles squinted. “I can’t see Cousin Charles as a particularly devout man.”

“A small American flag?”

“He wasn’t a veteran,” said Miles. “The military was way too smart to enlist Charles.”

“For heaven’s sake! How about a whiskey bottle and a glass then?” said Myrtle in exasperation.

“Hmm,” said Miles as if seriously considering her suggestion. “Sort of like the bottle of cognac the mysterious visitor would leave at Poe’s grave?” He saw her frowning at him and said, “I know what you mean. I just can’t think of a way of doing something like that without it being super-campy. Besides, any memorial you put out might be hard to see with your grass as tall as it is. Why do you want to have one?”

“I thought that I might catch someone looking morosely out the window at the little memorial. Regretting what they’d done, lamenting the state of violence in this world that influenced them to such a horrid act. That sort of thing,” Myrtle finished vaguely.

“Aren’t they more likely to be looking out the window in a very satisfied manner?” asked Miles, carefully breaking off a piece of a gingersnap. “Admiring their handiwork? Proud of their accomplishment?”

“That’s a fairly cynical way of looking at it,” said Myrtle, annoyed that she hadn’t broadened her imaginings of what a murderer might feel.

“Remember what we’re dealing with—Cousin Charles. He wasn’t the finest example of humanity ever to walk the planet, regardless of what my aunt might think. In fact, a murderer might even feel quite noble about ridding the world of Charles…who knows?” said Miles.

“Who indeed?” muttered Myrtle. “I think I’ll plan on something small and tasteful to mark the spot, then.” Although she had no idea what that would be.

“I think that Sloan is running an obituary in the paper tomorrow with some of the funeral arrangements listed. Should I get him to add a small sentence about your reception?” asked Miles.

“Why not?  When is it running?  Tomorrow-tomorrow, or today-tomorrow?  Since it’s two a.m. now, you’re not saying it’s running this morning, right?  I don’t think we should pull poor Sloan out of his bed to add to the obituary,” said Myrtle.

“No,
tomorrow
-tomorrow. So it’ll run in another twenty-four hours. Plenty of time to add it. I’ll call him later today,” said Miles.

Myrtle said, “By the way, Sloan assigned me the story. The murder. He said that I could write it for the paper.” She was worried about Miles’s reaction to this news. Sometimes he’d start acting very cold and she didn’t understand why. Myrtle hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those times.

Miles nodded and didn’t appear to change his mood, which was a relief. “I figured you might get that story, considering it happened literally in your backyard.” He paused. “This doesn’t mean you’re going to pester me for quotes, does it?” The coldness was now trickling in a little.

“Maybe just a very general one, Miles,” said Myrtle. “Nothing extremely personal. Just a statement of who he was and how you were related.”

Miles considered this. “No. No, I don’t think I want my connection with Charles in the paper. It’s enough for me to go to the funeral and deal with my aunt and go to the reception and talk to the police. If I can prevent more people from knowing that the two of us were related, that works for me.”

Myrtle just blinked at him. “Well, that’s most disappointing, Miles!” She took a sip of her milk while she thought over the implications of this unexpected complication. “Although I suppose it won’t make a huge difference to the story, since your quote was going to be such a minor one, anyway.” She frowned. “But you’re still going to help me with my investigating, aren’t you?  You’ll still be my sidekick?”

Miles grinned at her. “So you admit that I
am
a sidekick?  In the past, you’ve downplayed my role in your cases. Pooh-poohed my contributions.”

“I’ve done no such thing. Naturally, you’re a sidekick. For heaven’s sake. You have a car, and everything! You’re still driving, too,” said Myrtle.

“Oh,
now
I know my desirability as a sidekick. I’ve got wheels and a driver’s license.”

“Don’t be silly. I have a driver’s license, myself. But I don’t have a car anymore,” said Myrtle. Reluctantly she added, “And you contribute more than just transportation. I like bouncing ideas off, too.” She was still waiting to hear what he had to say about getting involved in the investigation.

Miles said, “I have the feeling that even if I say I want nothing to do with this case, which I’m sorely tempted to do, that I’ll somehow get dragged into it against my will. Since being dragged into things usually irritates me, I’ll go ahead and plan on being involved.” Myrtle clapped her hands and he quickly added, “But I’m getting involved
not
as a relative of this person. I want to treat this as an ordinary case where we work on the side of justice to subvert evil in Bradley, North Carolina.” Myrtle looked closely at him to see whether he was being facetious. It wasn’t like Miles to speak in such grandiose terms. 

“How about solving it because you’re clearing your name?” suggested Myrtle. “Considering how you are a suspect in the case.” He glowered at her and she said, “All right! All right! I’ll presume you’re completely innocent while investigating the murder.”

“Thanks,” said Miles. She thought she detected a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

They munched silently on the cookies for a minute or two. “So,” said Miles finally, “since I’m your sidekick, why don’t you share some of your investigation with me?  Who are you considering as suspects?”

“First of all, I’m putting Lee Woosley on my suspect list,” said Myrtle.

“Of course—the man who was fighting with Charles at the poker game,” said Miles, nodding. “That makes sense. Good thing that Red mentioned that he’d broken up that fight or we wouldn’t even have one name on the list.”

“Actually, I don’t even need Red anymore,” said Myrtle with a sniff. “I have Elaine.”

“Elaine?  Myrtle, you’re not sticking Elaine in the middle of all this, are you?  Putting her in the middle between you and Red on a case?  She can’t win!” said Miles.

“No, it’s nothing like that. Elaine has a new hobby,” said Myrtle.

Miles’s eyes widened in alarm behind his steel-rimmed glasses. He’d been right there beside Myrtle through Elaine’s other hobbies. None of them had ended particularly well and usually entailed his home being the repository for various bits of Elaine’s pottery or other malformed artwork.

“Don’t worry,” said Myrtle. “It’s not as bad as it usually is. This time it’s photography.”

Miles relaxed in the kitchen chair. “It’s hard to mess that up.”

“Well, don’t underestimate Elaine. I think we have some blurry images in store. And lots of photos of her various fingers. Not to mention pictures that should have had the flash turned on.”

Miles groaned.

“But I will say this for her—she has a knack for being in the right place at the right time. She took a picture of the exciting fight that Red broke up…she was with Red at the time that he got the call and was practicing action shots. She also took a fascinating picture of Hugh Bass having a very serious conversation with your cousin,” said Myrtle.

“Hugh Bass?  Isn’t he a dentist here in town?”

Myrtle said, “He’s
everyone’s
dentist. Bradley is a very small town.”

“How on earth could he have known Charles?” Miles frowned. “That’s rather disturbing. I don’t think I’ll let him put his hands on my teeth.”

Miles’s teeth were apparently a source of pride to him. She supposed that anyone who made it to seventy with all their teeth in perfect condition would feel that way. Myrtle wouldn’t know.

“I don’t know how he knows him, but I’m going to find out. I’m going to the dentist tomorrow to have my teeth cleaned and I’m prepared to ask questions,” said Myrtle.

“How are you going to do that?  Whenever I go to the dentist, I can’t get a word in edgewise because someone’s hands are always in my mouth.”

Myrtle said, “Oh, I have my ways. People can be extremely deferencial when it comes to old, frail, garrulous ladies. I’ll let you know everything I find out.” She looked at Miles’s wall clock. “I wish I were feeling sleepy, but I’m not. Did you watch
Tomorrow’s Promise
this afternoon?”

Miles was still somewhat chagrined that he was hooked on the show, but he clearly wanted to talk about it. “I only got as far as Melaina being admitted to the hospital again.”

Myrtle clapped her hands. “That’s where I left off, too!”

“I’ll start up the tape.”

Chapter Six

The town of Bradley had been very pleased to have Dr. Bass move back to town, Myrtle remembered, as she walked the short distance down the dogwood-lined street to the downtown office the next day.

The previous dentist had been Dr. Bissell. He’d been as old as Myrtle and determined not to retire. He’d been taking care of the dental needs for the town since Myrtle had been in her early twenties. One day, he’d taken his usual lunchtime nap in the office (the office always closed for lunch between the hours of twelve and one) and hadn’t woken up. It had shocked Pam the hygienist to pieces and she’d taken to her bed for well-nigh on to a month.

Luckily, considering that Bradley was a town that enjoyed sweets, one of its own had returned to town to take over the small practice. Dr. Bass had grown up in Bradley and was happy to step in. He even kept Pam as hygienist, and persuaded her that she had recuperated from her shock by that point. For the past five years, Dr. Bass had ministered to the Bradley citizen’s teeth with few complaints from the populace. Except that sometimes there was a long wait.

This was a morning that involved waiting. Myrtle sighed. It was probably because they’d worked her into their schedule, but she’d already been there for twenty minutes with absolutely no sign of being taken back. She looked morosely around the waiting room. Same vinyl chairs mixed in with high-backed wooden chairs. There were a few anemic-looking plants that appeared to be in desperate need of water. Myrtle reached for a magazine. It was a magazine on healthy living that was months old. She made a face and put it back. The others were just as uninteresting: one on motorbikes, a gardening magazine, an RV magazine, and one on camping. Bleh.

She never thought she’d be so relieved to be called back to the dentist. Of course, she had to see Pam, the hygienist, first. She’d forgotten that Pam would actually clean her teeth. Myrtle sighed.

Pam was too cheerful, Myrtle thought. And she had that irritating habit of calling everyone over the age of sixty
sweetheart
and other pet names. She wasn’t Pam’s sweetheart or pet. She wasn’t anyone’s sweetheart and she wasn’t cute or darling. And never had been.

This went on for some time while Myrtle gritted the teeth that Pam was trying to clean.

Pam simpered, “Darlin’, you need to relax just a little bit. It’s too hard for me to clean these pretty teeth of yours.”

Myrtle frowned at her, a realization dawning. “Didn’t I teach you?” asked Myrtle. “A
long
time ago?  Thirty-five years ago, maybe?”

Pam’s bright smile faltered and her voice got tighter, “Yes ma’am, I believe you might have.”

Funny how quickly a
darlin’
changed into a
ma’am
.

Dr. Bass was apparently wildly busy. Myrtle could hear him in another room, checking the teeth of another patient. Then she heard him in the room next door. Finally, he stuck his head into her room. Pam, however, wasn’t quite done with the cleaning. This was probably due to Myrtle’s clenched teeth earlier, which had delayed the process.