Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) (16 page)

“We certainly are. And we don’t need to jeopardize that. If the staff asks you what you’re doing, just tell them you’re doing an especially thorough job of touring the facility,” said Myrtle. “They’ll think you’re just a very savvy senior.”

“They’ll think I’m a very senile senior,” said Miles glumly, “if they spot me halfway underneath a table in the dining hall.”

Myrtle ignored him. It was always irritating when Miles was in a dispirited mood. It was best to just overlook his deflated statements. “Let’s split up, then. Miles, you’re better at looking underneath things than I am. Why don’t you take the dining hall? I’ll look through the commons areas upstairs—more than once, just in case Pasha is playing hide and seek with us. And Ruby?”

Ruby, who had been sitting on the commons area sofa while they formed a plan, had fallen into a deep sleep.

“Let’s just leave Ruby out of it,” said Myrtle to Miles. “She’s likely to forget what she’s looking for halfway through the process, anyway.”

Five minutes later, Myrtle was calling, “Kitty, kitty, kitty?” softly in an empty commons area upstairs when almost on cue, Darla entered the area. Darla’s features were grim. “Mrs. Clover? Could you have a word with me in my office, please?”

Myrtle gave a resigned sigh as she followed Darla into her tiny office. Called in to see the principal, was she? She’d been a teacher long enough to know how to get out of any kind of trouble with administrators—deny all. There never was any proof of wrongdoing, anyway.

Darla settled her stocky frame into a squeakily protesting desk chair and stared impassively at Myrtle. Myrtle silently returned her stare, nose in the air.

Since quite some time went by with no comment from Darla, Myrtle finally impatiently broke the silence. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Out with it. What are my alleged misdeeds?”

“You know, Mrs. Clover. You’ve created nothing but problems for Greener Pastures since spending so much of your time here.” Darla’s eyes were really quite soulless, decided Myrtle.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to. I’ve simply been responsible about visiting a dear friend of mine who’s imprisoned at your facility. But I’m very glad you’ve arranged a meeting with me here today,” said Myrtle, blithely overlooking the origins of her being dragged into the cluttered broom closet of an office. “I was planning on scheduling time to speak with you if you hadn’t. Some of Greener Pastures’ actions have been rather suspect lately.”

Darla’s thin eyebrows shot up. “You’re trying to turn the tables and complain about
us?
” Her plain face was incredulous.

“Absolutely,” said Myrtle smoothly. “After all, I want what’s best for my friend. I have a sneaking suspicion that the newspaper that Mickey Pelias published was full of inflammatory information about Greener Pastures. Maybe someone is cooking the books here—perhaps cutting corners and then pocketing the difference.”

Darla’s face became quite red and splotchy and she began stuttering incoherently. Myrtle wondered idly if she were working up to some sort of cardiac event.

“I’ve noticed, you see, all the fresh paint and new carpeting. And you see, those are cheap ways to make a retirement home seem as if quality is important to the staff. But the proof is in the
care
. What’s the staff to resident ratio? What’s the quality of the care being offered? I believe that Mickey raised some of those concerns and perhaps others. Greener Pastures determined to find and destroy those newspapers. And now Mickey Pelias is conveniently very dead,” said Myrtle, folding her hands in her lap.

Darla’s eyes, if possible, got even colder. “Greener Pastures has recently been recognized for its devotion to high-quality care for its residents.”

Myrtle smiled sweetly at her. “Recognized by whom? By Greener Pastures?”

Darla’s hand trembled slightly as she raised it to gesture wildly in the air. “Greener Pastures and its care are not in question here today! What’s in question is your behavior.”

“I was under the impression that my behavior wasn’t Greener Pastures’ concern at all,” said Myrtle coolly.

“It is when it interferes with the residents’ health and wellness,” said Darla, voice shaking in anger. “And when you’ve brought a cat in the facility—when residents might be allergic to the animal and when we’re not even sure it’s up on its shots?”

Myrtle had opened her mouth to argue hotly that she was very responsible when it came to Pasha’s shots…before realizing that would constitute an admission on her behalf. Instead she said firmly, “You’re trying to change the subject. Not only that, but you’re throwing out wild allegations that have no basis in fact. I don’t have a cat and I certainly didn’t bring a cat to Greener Pastures today.”

“Is that so?” sneered Darla.

“That is so.”

“Then why did I hear you trilling ‘kitty, kitty, kitty?’” asked Darla.

Myrtle gave a short laugh. “I won’t hold your immaturity against you, Darla. If you don’t recognize the most famous song from the 1930s, then I will try to overlook that fact.”

Now Darla was looking a bit taken aback. You could see the wheels turning in her head thinking—
is this woman simply tunelessly singing an old song
?

But Darla was again on the attack. “And now we’re having to change our popular countdown-to-noon party tomorrow for a countdown-to-midnight. I believe you were behind that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Complete foolishness,” said Myrtle sternly.

Darla was now looking confused. You could see in her eyes that she was trying to sum Myrtle up. Was Myrtle telling the truth? Or was she simply a consummate liar? While Darla was off-balance, Myrtle decided it was the perfect time to get a little more information. “While I’m here, is there an update on the police investigation of Mickey Pelias’s death?”

Darla’s eyes took on a steely look. “Did you have anything to do with that? With the police coming here and asking questions and interfering with a natural death?”

“Of course I didn’t,” said Myrtle, crossing her fingers where Darla couldn’t see them. She’d already told enough fibs during the course of the last few minutes that she was beginning to fear that a lightning bolt would come out of the sky and strike her down. “Although you know that I don’t believe it to be a natural death. And the police seem to agree with me, if they’re launching an investigation. I believe the police simply feel a strong obligation to investigate any unusual death,
regardless
of age.”

“There’s nothing unusual about dying in your sleep,” said Darla stubbornly. She continued staring at Myrtle, which was making Myrtle feel a bit uncomfortable. Myrtle resisted the urge to squirm in her seat, instead returning Darla’s stare with some stubbornness of her own. Darla’s head turned momentarily as they heard what sounded like someone running down one of the nearby halls. Darla frowned.

Myrtle said quickly, as a distraction, “So the police haven’t updated you?”

Darla didn’t appear to have heard the question. “You’re
sure
you didn’t bring an animal into our facility?”

“Certainly not,” said Myrtle coldly.

But of course, at that moment, the sound of running feet grew louder, accompanied by out of breath panting, and Pasha bounded through the door, jumped onto Myrtle’s lap, hissed furiously at a terrified-looking Darla, and then bolted back out again.

Miles burst into the tiny office as Pasha shot out. He stood, frozen, staring at Darla. “Hello,” he said finally. Then, “Better go.” And he was off again, after giving Myrtle a desperate look.

Darla’s face was now brimming over with hostility. “Well, what do you know?” said Myrtle lamely, “It appears a cat somehow
is
on the loose. What an amazing coincidence. And how very helpful of Miles to try to contain it.”

Darla’s eyes narrowed. “And you have nothing to do with that—creature?”

“Of course not. How on earth could you suspect me of something like that?” asked Myrtle weakly. “But I do care a lot about animals, so I’ll just pop out there and give Miles a hand. He could probably use the help.”

Myrtle was standing up and trying to get out of the tiny office as quickly as humanly possible when there was suddenly a gasping, teary Ruby in there with them. “Miss Ruby!” said Darla, standing up as well. “Whatever is the matter?”

Ruby’s eyes were huge and swimming with tears as she looked back and forth from the stolid Darla to the still-anxious-to-escape Myrtle. “He got me. He got me!”

“Who got you, Ruby?” asked Myrtle intently.

“
He
did! The killer. The one that got Mickey,” gasped Ruby. She pulled aside the collar to her shirtdress and revealed her neck, which was quickly developing a reddish bruise.

Darla exclaimed, hurrying over and examining Ruby’s neck gingerly before grimly reaching for her desk phone. “I’ll call for the nurse.”

“Did you see him?” asked Myrtle urgently.

Ruby shook her head, still gasping for breath and keeping a hand hovering over her neck as if she might need to protect it at a moment’s notice.

Darla was talking on the phone and Myrtle quickly said in a low voice, “So you were looking for Pasha, right? Downstairs in the commons area.”

“I was asleep,” said Ruby in her guilty-child-manner. “But then I woke up and remembered to look for the cat. I was in the little kitchen and calling for the cat when someone came up behind me and put this cloth around my neck and pulled. And pulled!” Her voice was gruffly hurt.

“Could you tell if it was a man or woman?” asked Myrtle. “Or someone old or young?”

More headshaking. “But the person said something to me,” said Ruby, eyes opening wide as if she were just remembering. “Although I couldn’t tell from their voice if it were a man or a woman. You know how it is when someone is whispering? And it’s sort of hard to tell?”

Myrtle nodded impatiently. Darla sounded as if she was wrapping up her phone conversation and Myrtle was worried that Ruby was going to be whisked away. “Yes, yes, I know. But what did they
say
?”

Ruby sputtered for a second, thinking.

“Surely you remember?” coaxed Myrtle. “Ruby, it was only a minute ago! What did they say?”

Ruby’s eyes widened again in triumph as her memory finally delivered. “
Let Mickey rest in peace.
That’s what they said.
Let Mickey rest in peace
.”

Darla dropped the phone back on the receiver with a clang. “She’s on her way,” said Darla grimly. “Sit down here, Miss Ruby. And tell me—what’s this you’re saying about an attack?” Her eyes were dubious.

Myrtle couldn’t seem to stop herself from commenting, “You’re doubting her? Even presented with the evidence in front of you?” She gave Darla a scornful look, and then turned to Ruby. “I’m going to go check on Miles.”

“And the cat?” asked Ruby hopefully.

“Er…yes. That’s right. You should be in good hands here with the nurse coming.” And with another disdainful look at Darla, Myrtle swept from the office. As well as someone with a cane can sweep, anyway.

From the amount of panting and general breathlessness coming from the direction of the dining room, Myrtle assumed that Miles must be somewhere nearby.

“Kitty, kitty, kitty!” panted the voice desperately.

Myrtle rounded the corner and spotted a very disheveled looking Miles. His hair was askew, his glasses were askew, and Myrtle was certain the rest of him was likely askew as well. “Any luck?” hissed Myrtle. “Because they’re onto us.”

Miles gave Myrtle a baleful look. “There’s really no
us
here. I was an unwilling accomplice. I’m going to assert that to my dying days.”

“See, this place isn’t good for you, Miles. You have dying on the brain. And let me assure you that you should have absolutely no interest in residing in this combat zone.”

“Combat zone?” Miles rolled his eyes. “You really have no idea, Myrtle.”

“No,
you
really have no idea. Because while we’ve been searching for Pasha and getting the third degree from the gulag, Ruby Sims was attacked downstairs.”

“What?” Miles’s eyes were huge behind his rimless glasses.

“That’s right. She was warned off and nearly strangled by some thug,” said Myrtle.

Miles frowned. “But she got away.”

“No thanks to us. To think there was a killer running around downstairs and we had the chance to have caught him in the act!”

“Right, yes. But I saying—she got away. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?” asked Miles. “Why would the killer have let Ruby go?”

Myrtle sighed. “Well, with all the hubbub, I didn’t have a chance to ask her many questions. We’ll ask again later. Maybe she fought back. Maybe the killer heard a noise. Maybe Pasha leaped out at him and scared him to death. I’m simply thankful she was able to get away from the fellow. Besides, this falls into the same category as the ominous phone call that Ruby received. A warning. Apparently the killer is fonder of Ruby than he was of Mickey.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” muttered Miles. Then he seemed to steel himself. “All right. Onto the next challenge…Pasha. Although I’m not holding out much hope. That cat is determined to bolt as soon as I catch sight of her.”

A blur of black caught Myrtle’s attention. “Pasha?” she asked eagerly. And soon the black cat bounded up to her, rubbing lovingly against Myrtle’s legs. She crooned to the cat and Miles awarded her a look of extreme exasperation.

“Now what?” he asked. “Pasha’s carrier is downstairs, isn’t it?”

Myrtle glanced around them. “I’ll just borrow one of these tablecloths. I’ll wrap her up securely and carry her downstairs to reunite her with her carrier.”

Miles said, “How many arms do you think you have, Myrtle? There’s no way you can hold a cane and hold a feral cat at the same time.”

It always irritated Myrtle to be reminded of her infirmity, no matter how minor she considered it to be. “Well then,
you
carry my cane and hold out your arm and I’ll lean on it while I carry her.
You
certainly can’t carry Pasha…she won’t stand for it.”

She sat down in one of the dining hall chairs, removed the tablecloth after putting the salt and pepper shakers and vase of flowers on another chair, and reached over to carefully wrap a compliant Pasha in the cloth. Myrtle cautiously stood, clutching Pasha like a baby in the voluminous fabric.