Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) (12 page)

“Yes. And now the police are investigating Mickey’s death as a homicide,” said Myrtle. At least, they should be. Myrtle wondered when the state police would be arriving. She paused, and then said, “You don’t seem very surprised that Ruby was the one reporting the murder.”

“Well, I’m not. Not at all.” He waved his hand. “Never mind all that. Go on and tell me what you’re thinking about Mickey. Annoying or not, she certainly shouldn’t have been murdered.”

“She turned in that night and someone sneaked into her room and probably smothered her with a pillow. The staff at Greener Pastures wanted to treat it as a natural death, but Ruby overheard thumping around in Mickey’s room—sounds of a struggle. As you say, Mickey was an abrasive person and she made people mad. What I’m trying to do is to find out more about who might have had something against Mickey and wanted to get rid of her,” said Myrtle. She finished scraping off the chocolate syrup and took a cautious bite of the remaining vanilla.

Winston looked sideways at her. “What are you … some kind of private eye, Myrtle? When I knew you before, you were a teacher.”

“Teachers develop many talents,” said Myrtle succinctly.

“I won’t argue with that,” said Winston, although he looked as if he sorely wanted to.

Myrtle prompted him. “So do you know who was upset with Mickey?”

Winston frowned. “Now,
I
wasn’t upset with Mickey. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I just avoided her, that’s all.”

It definitely sounded to Myrtle as if he were protesting too much. “All right, point taken. But who
might
have been?”

“Natalie. Her daughter. Did you hear how Mickey talked to that girl? If she
weren’t
upset with her mother, she certainly should have been,” said Winston. “Plus, her mother was pretty well-off. I’m guessing that Natalie would have inherited her money. I don’t know what kind of money Natalie has, but she sure didn’t dress like she had much. You’d think she’d take better care of herself.”

“How did Mickey talk to her daughter?”

“Very dismissively,” said Winston sharply. “A couple of times I said something to Mickey about it. She told me to mind my own business.”

Mickey probably hadn’t appreciated the intrusion. Myrtle wondered if Mickey might somehow have made Winston a target in some way, as payback. “Anybody else?”

“Fred, of course. Fred has told just about everyone that he’s upset with Mickey,” said Winston. He looked sadly at his empty ice cream bowl and then gave the line in front of the ice cream stand an analytical look.

“So I’ve heard,” said Myrtle with a sigh. “Although no one has been able to tell me why.”

Winston lowered his voice, taking the opportunity to move even closer to Myrtle in order to whisper in her ear. “Mickey knew something about Fred and was going to print it in her newspaper. You know—the underground newspaper she had.”

“She was definitely printing it?” asked Myrtle. “What was the secret?”

“Well, if I knew the secret, I’d be dead, too. According to you anyway, Myrtle.” Winston’s eyes were twinkling now. The twinkling annoyed Myrtle.

“All right. So she knew something. So that’s Fred Lee and Natalie Pelias. Then we have Inez.”

“We do,” agreed Winston. “Inez couldn’t stand Mickey. I mean, she’d go to breakfast and stuff with her because Mickey was an early bird like herself. But every morning they’d end up squabbling with each other.”

“Why
was
that?” asked Myrtle, leaning in a little before correcting herself and backing away a bit.

Winston made the sign of the cross and Myrtle frowned. “You’ve lost me, Winston. What?”

Winston spoke in a low voice again. “A mega-religious thing. With Inez. Mickey swore like a sailor and was hard living. Inez has got a bit of religious mania, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I suppose that didn’t crop up in our conversation,” said Myrtle. “And how do
you
know? Did you engage in some sort of religious debate with Inez?”

“Not by choice,” said Winston ruefully. “I was tippling maybe just a wee bit too much at the Christmas party. Inez lit into me, but good. She thinks that I’m going to … well, that I’m not going to heaven, let’s put it that way.” He shook his head. “But what a woman. She has strength of her convictions, that’s for sure.” There was a glint of admiration in his eyes.

“Hmm. I didn’t really get that impression from her. I recall her wearing a cross. I guess I thought maybe she was looking at it as an insurance policy. You know—an end-of-life insurance policy,” said Myrtle.

“Not a bit. She’s very vested in her beliefs, believe me. And if you hang out here enough, she may try to convert you to them, too,” said Winston in a warning tone.

“I’m a believer,” said Myrtle, feeling miffed. “There’s no conversion needed.”

“Oh, I’m a believer, too! But that didn’t stop Miss Inez. And her newspaper—the one that’s been officially sanctioned by Greener Pastures—is full of good news and good will. And she sticks in scripture that she feels relates to the story at hand,” said Winston. He chuckled.

“Does it?” asked Myrtle.

“I guess in the same general
realm
of the story. But she alluded to Jonah when she was reporting that Suzy McDonald’s grandchildren were going to visit their Nana before going on a beach trip. I just don’t think that particular news bulletin needed a Biblical allusion.” Winston shrugged.

Myrtle squinted. “I just don’t think that was even a
news bulletin
. Who cares? Just Suzy McDonald. And if she’s got particularly bratty grandchildren, maybe not even Suzy. All right, so that’s a few people who had a problem with Mickey. Anyone else who didn’t like her? Seems like there should be more people, since I keep hearing that Mickey was so unlikeable. In fact, I hear of only one friend of Mickey’s—Ruby. Didn’t she have any others?” asked Myrtle.

Winston chuckled. “Well, with friends like Ruby, who needs enemies?”

Myrtle gave him a quelling frown. “That’s rather cryptic, isn’t it? Do you mean because Ruby is so absentminded that it’s difficult to be friends with her? She certainly seemed loyal to Mickey.”

“Oh, she certainly did seem loyal to Mickey,” said Winston hastily. “I’m just saying that Ruby is challenging, that’s all. I mean, Ruby stuck to Mickey like glue. Would you want a friend like that?”

It reminded Myrtle of her neighbor, Erma Sherman. If Erma had her way and if Myrtle weren’t so fleet of foot, then Erma would be spending about that much time with Myrtle. The thought made her feel faintly nauseated. Or maybe it was simply the fact that she was eating something very sugary before eleven o’clock in the morning.

“No, I suppose I wouldn’t. But it would be very flattering. Ruby always looked at Mickey as if she were imparting some sort of wisdom from the mount,” said Myrtle with a sigh.

“She did, at that.” Winston’s eyes were inscrutable before he smoothly flashed a toothy grin at her and said, “Myrtle, I want to ask you something. Beg something of you, if you will.”

Myrtle gave him a wary look. “What’s that?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that it’s the end of December. In a few days, it will be the New Year. We have a party here at Greener Pastures to celebrate. Would you be my date for that event?” His expression was earnest and he reached out to hold her hand as if he were proposing marriage.

Myrtle drew back, giving him a horrified look. She was definitely going to say no, but wasn’t sure how to go about it without totally alienating him—and he seemed like a good source for insider Greener Pasture info. She spluttered instead, “Greener Pastures has a New Year’s Eve party?”

“In a manner of speaking. Since so many residents turn in early, we do a countdown to noon, instead,” he said.

The thought irritated Myrtle. Greener Pastures was infantilizing its residents again. Countdown to noon, indeed.

Winston misread her hesitation. “It’s more fun than it sounds. And we all dress up in our finery and drink white grape juice.”

Myrtle said quickly, “You know, I do want to come. But Miles would be desperately jealous if I were your official date.”

They both looked over at Miles who was just hooting in excitement over winning the match with Fred Lee. Fred Lee’s face, in contrast, was the very definition of ‘unhappy.’

Winston said slowly, “So you … and Miles. You’re not just friends?”

Myrtle crossed her fingers under her ice cream bowl. “Certainly not. We’re much, much more.”

Winston gave a low whistle. “Aren’t you the cougar, Myrtle?” He gave her an admiring look that made Myrtle flush.

“Enough of that,” she said briskly.

“But you will save some dances for me,” wheedled Winston.

“If it can be arranged,” said Myrtle stiffly. “And now I must go speak to Ruby really quickly.” She pushed herself up from the loveseat with her cane. She paused and turned around, eyes narrowed. “But I can promise you one thing, Winston. It won’t be a countdown-to-noon party we attend.”

Chapter Ten

Ruby looked as happy as a child with her bowl of ice cream. “This was fun. I wish Greener Pastures had an ice cream party every week.”

The heavy-set staff person behind the ice cream stand raised one eyebrow. “Ms. Sims, we
do
have an ice cream party every week.”

Ruby was flustered. “Oh. Oh, that’s right.” She turned to Myrtle. “Did you have a nice time visiting with everyone?” They walked over to an area where there weren’t any residents.

Myrtle said, “I did. Although I wasn’t really visiting. I was more
questioning
people.” Ruby looked foggy so Myrtle continued, “I’m trying to ask people questions so that I can find out what’s happened to Mickey.”

“Mickey’s dead,” said Ruby solemnly.

“Yes, I know,” said Myrtle with a sigh.

“You know who you should ask?” said Ruby. After her forgetfulness a moment ago, she now seemed surprisingly lucid. “You should ask Mickey’s daughter. That woman.” She fumbled for a name, and then gave up with a shrug. “You know.”

“Natalie,” said Myrtle. “Yes, I do need to talk with her. But do you think that she might have some information on Mickey’s death?”

“She was here then,” said Ruby with wide eyes.

“When Mickey died? Where?” asked Myrtle.

“In her room,” said Ruby.

“When? Around suppertime? Before eight p.m.?”

Ruby frowned in concentration. “Late. Very late. I heard her voice.”

“Could you really hear Natalie’s voice, Ruby? Because the walls seem fairly thick here—at least they’re not super-flimsy—and Natalie has such a soft voice that I had a hard time hearing her sometimes. The woman swallows her words,” said Myrtle. It was always vexing to be around young people who swallowed their words, especially when they knew they were around older people.

Ruby’s mouth set stubbornly. “I know it was Mickey’s daughter.”

Myrtle said searchingly, “It wasn’t Mickey on the phone? Or talking to anyone else?”

Ruby shook her head vehemently.

“Okay,” said Myrtle. She’d somehow succeeded in getting Ruby’s back up and she needed her to lower her guard again if Myrtle were to get anything else out of her. “Um—tell me about your children, Ruby. Boys, I think you said that you had.”

Ruby’s eyes glowed, her irritation quickly forgotten. “That’s right—six sons. And nary a one in jail!” she said in a triumphant drawl.

“Certainly an accomplishment,” said Myrtle once again. Really, she didn’t know how to handle such a statement. She hesitated. “So do you see much of them?”

Ruby’s face fell. “Not as much as I’d like. I don’t have any money, just social security. If I had money, I’d give it to my boys so they could travel to see me.”

“Ah. They moved from Bradley, did they?” asked Myrtle.

“That’s right. They needed to make a living and Bradley didn’t have any jobs for them. One of them is even sick right now and I can’t get over to see him. They’re smart boys—they can do all kinds of construction things. But they’re far away building things, not close building things.” Ruby looked as if she didn’t have too much of a handle on where they actually were. Then she brightened. “Did you bring your cat? To visit? I love cats.”

Myrtle rubbed the side of her forehead to try to combat the headache she felt developing there. “I didn’t, no. I might have mentioned to you, Ruby, that Pasha—my cat—is not really a
pet
. She’s a feral animal that chooses to spend time with me sometimes. I’d have to capture her and put her in a carrier to bring her here.”

Ruby nodded, but didn’t seem to have any comprehension in her eyes. “Do you have a picture of the cat?” she asked eagerly.

Myrtle tried to tamp down her impatience. “Not on me, no. I do have some at home. I’ll bring them with me the next time I come over. Ruby, I heard that you told Mickey Fred Lee’s secret.”

Ruby blinked at her, looking confused. “Fred Lee?” she asked.

Myrtle pointed over to the checkers table where Miles and Fred were engulfed in another game. “Fred is right over there—with my friend Miles. He was angry at Mickey and said that you’d shared his secret with Mickey.”

Ruby’s eyebrows drew together. “Miles was mad at Mickey?”

“No, no!
Fred
was mad at Mickey.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Ruby frowned again in concentration. “I think Fred’s secret was … well, it was …” She stopped. “I can’t remember now. But I know that Mickey was interested in it. She asked me a lot of questions, but I didn’t know anything else about it. So she asked Fred.”

“Was Mickey planning on printing Fred’s secret in her newspaper?” asked Myrtle.

Ruby nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. But I don’t remember what it was that she was going to print.” Her face was discouraged but resigned, as if she’d gotten used to her memory deficiencies. And who knows, if Fred killed Mickey because she knew his secret, it was probably in Ruby’s best interest not to be able to remember it.

Myrtle said, “I was speaking with …well, someone who knows Mickey, and he was saying that Inez didn’t really like Mickey very much—is that what you remember?”

Ruby’s face clouded again and Myrtle tried to unobtrusively point Inez out. Ruby nodded. “No, she didn’t like Mickey’s swearing very much. Or Mickey’s newspaper. Or, I guess, Mickey.” Ruby looked intently at Myrtle. “Did you know about our New Year’s party on New Year’s Eve? I’m making decorations for it.”