Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) (17 page)

Chapter Fourteen

“There,” she said with satisfaction. “Now let’s get downstairs before she starts getting too heavy.”

They started off in the direction of the elevators, but heard a lot of staff talking near Darla’s office. Myrtle grimaced. “We shouldn’t go that way. All those staffers will be congregating around Ruby and we don’t need them to see how friendly we are with Pasha or they might think she’s our pet.”

Pasha emitted an unhappy growl at the noise down the hall. Miles gave Pasha an uneasy look. “I don’t think anyone would make the mistake of assuming that Pasha was
anyone’s
pet. She doesn’t seem particularly tame right now.”

They walked down a parallel hall toward the elevator, Myrtle stopping to shift Pasha into a more comfortable position a couple of times. But before they could reach the elevator and as they walked near the front entrance of the Home, a tall, thin young man barreled toward them. He wore a police uniform and gave Myrtle and Miles a puzzled look as he hurried in their direction.

“He thinks we’re carrying a baby,” muttered Miles. “We must look like parents who
really
put off having offspring.”

Myrtle cleared her throat. “Darrell?” she asked. “Darrell Smith?”

The young man stopped short and for a second Myrtle thought he was going to salute her. She said briskly, “I’m Myrtle Clover, Red’s mother. You’re his fill-in deputy, Darrell, aren’t you?”

Darrell’s face broke out into a large smile and he said in a deferential voice, “Yes ma’am, I sure am. It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Clover. I’ve heard a lot about you from Red.”

“I’m sure you have,” murmured Miles.

Myrtle shot him a look. “And this is my friend, Miles.”

Darrell looked uncertainly at the bundle in Myrtle’s arms. “And that is…?”

Pasha, who was not a fan of unfamiliar voices or smells, emitted an ominous growl. Darrell, startled, opened his eyes wide.

“Myrtle’s granddaughter,” said Miles quickly, still clearly worried about his chances for future admission to Greener Pastures retirement community.

Myrtle pulled Pasha closer to her so that Darrell couldn’t see the cat. “She’s shy,” added Myrtle. She shot Miles a look. Now he’d put them in a pickle. She changed the subject, shifting Pasha’s weight a bit. “I’m glad to see you, Darrell,” Myrtle lied. “I was hoping you could tell me what the state police found to be the cause of death for Mickey Pelias.”

Darrell looked toward the office area. “Well, I can give you a real quick update, Mrs. Clover. Then I’ve got to interview an assault victim.”

Myrtle nodded. “Ruby Sims. Yes. And pay close attention when you speak to her. She may seem addled, but she seems to know a lot. Now, about Mickey Pelias?”

“Forensics found that Mrs. Pelias was suffocated,” said Darrell in his slow, musical drawl. “So I’ll be helping them investigate.” He stopped and shook his head sorrowfully. “Can you imagine? What’s the point of violence in a place like this?”

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s a lot about Greener Pastures that brings out the violence in me,” said Myrtle dryly. Her bundle gave another low growl and Myrtle rubbed her back. “I should get my granddaughter out of here now—it’s time for her nap.”

“Right,” said Darrell, still giving the bundle a puzzled look. “Maybe she’s hungry, too. Is that her…stomach growling?”

“The child has a voracious appetite.”

Darrell still seemed uncertain, but apparently decided to let it drop. “Okay. Tell Red I hope he’s better soon. And that I have a whole new level of respect for what he does on a daily basis.”

Myrtle watched him hurry off, and then called after him, “You know, Darrell, I think I might join you as you interview Ruby. To give her moral support, you know.”

Miles looked alarmed. “What about …?”

“Here. You can watch Baby for a while, Miles. Make sure she has a good nap.” And she firmly deposited the growling bundle in Miles’s arms and quickly followed Darrell back to Darla’s office.

Darla was none too pleased to see her. “I thought you were on your way out of our facility, Mrs. Clover,” she said smoothly.

“Oh, sweetie!” said Ruby, beaming at her. “Thank you for coming!”

“I simply thought I’d be a good friend to Ruby and hold her hand through this upsetting process,” said Myrtle. And, of course, to get information on this attack before Ruby forgot it, herself. Because Greener Pastures certainly wasn’t going to be helpful in that respect.

Darla pursed her lips in displeasure. She appeared to be about to firmly evict Myrtle when Darrell said in his placid drawl, “That’s very nice of you, Mrs. Clover. Anything that helps Mrs. Sims relax and give a thoughtful statement would be helpful.”

Darla nodded but her eyes were steely.

Darrell said kindly to Ruby, “So, Miss Ruby, take your time and tell me what happened to you.”

Ruby drew in a deep, shaky breath and trained her eyes on the ceiling of Darla’s office as if her story were written up there among the peeling paint. “I was downstairs in the commons area. I’d just woken up from a very short nap. When I woke up I started looking for …” She hesitated and looked down at Myrtle “… for my reading glasses.” Ruby gave Myrtle a wink. “But I couldn’t find them in the commons area. So I walked into the kitchenette to look for them in there.”

“Your reading glasses,” said Darla in a disbelieving voice. “The ones that are hanging on a lanyard around your neck?”

Ruby’s hands jumped up to her chest and fingered the purple reading glasses, which were indeed hanging around her neck. She beamed at Darla. “How clever of you!”

Darla rolled her eyes and Darrell gave Darla a reproachful look. “I’m
very
interested in hearing what Mrs. Sims has to say.” He paused. “If you don’t mind, Ms. Benton, I’d really appreciate a glass of ice water. It’s been a busy day so far and I’m parched.”

Darla raised an eyebrow. “Does one get parched in December?”

Myrtle gave her an annoyed look. “One can get parched at any point one is low on fluids.”

Darla flounced out and Darrell seized the opportunity to gently question Ruby, taking notes the entire time. His expression and constant nodding gave the impression that he was completely fascinated by her story and that Ruby Sims was the only person in the entire universe right at that moment of time. Myrtle eyed him closely. He wasn’t nearly as slow as she thought he was supposed to be. He was actually very sharp, although his cleverness was hidden behind the good old boy exterior and the heavy drawl.

Ruby sounded even more addled than usual, but Darrell seemed to take her entire account as gospel, questioning her deferentially as she told her tale.

“And then,” said Ruby, eyes opened wide as she reached the climax of the story, “a cloth slipped around my neck and a gruff voice told me to
back off
! Or I’d never see tomorrow. And the cloth squeezed and
squeezed
on my neck until I thought my eyes would pop out of my head! I really did.”

Darrell continued his sympathetic nodding. “And you’re positive it was a piece of cloth around your neck.”

Ruby looked hopelessly lost and confused and Myrtle shifted impatiently in her seat. Ruby looked at Myrtle for clarification. Myrtle carefully kept her annoyance out of her voice and explained, “You felt a terrible pressure around your neck—but do you know for a fact it was a bit of cloth? Not someone’s hands?”

Ruby blinked with confusion. “That’s right. Cloth. At least—I think so.”

“And what do you think the person meant by
back off
?” Darrell asked gently. “Have you had an argument with anyone recently? Any problems with any of the other residents?”

Ruby said, “Oh, no. No, I really like the people here. A lot. They’re very nice. Most of them anyway.”

“So why would someone want to hurt you?” asked Darrell in a soft voice.

Ruby looked to Myrtle for help again.

“Perhaps,” said Myrtle with a small cough, “it’s because of what you said about Mickey?”

“Oh! Yes.” Pleased to have remembered, she turned back to Darrell, her words falling all over themselves as she said, “When Mickey died, I was the one who said it wasn’t an accident. Because it wasn’t. And I told … her … about it.” Here Ruby gestured to Myrtle, having clearly forgotten her name again.

“You were the one who got the police investigating her death?” asked Darrell, still nodding as he jotted down his notes.

“Well, I didn’t tell the police. But I told Greener Pastures! They didn’t believe me, though.” Ruby deflated in her seat a bit at this memory. “But then I told…sweetie here…and she told the police. And here we are.”

Darrell said, “You didn’t get any ideas about who your attacker was? How tall they were? If they were male or female? And how did you finally get away?”

Ruby shook her head sadly. “I was so surprised. They didn’t want to be seen, either. It could have been anybody. The only reason I got away is because he pushed me down to the floor and ran off.”

Myrtle said to Darrell, “So it was only meant to warn her off. I guess her attacker didn’t realize the police were already looking into Mickey Pelias’s death. He must have believed that she hadn’t yet persuaded them that there was foul play.”

Darla came back in at this point with a glass of ice water for Darrell. He thanked her and took the glass of water, taking a large sip before setting it down on the desk in front of him. He softly closed his notebook and smiled at Ruby. “You were very helpful. Thank you. I should be heading out now. I’ve got more calls to make.” He snapped his fingers. “Although first I need to talk to Natalie Pelias. My understanding is that she’s here today.”

Darla confirmed this with a quick nod and a curious expression.

“The autopsy did show that her mother was smothered,” explained Darrell.

A look of anger flashed on Darla’s face and the look she shot Myrtle was accusatory.

Myrtle gave Darla a haughty look in return and then said to Darrell, “You’ve had more calls today?” asked Myrtle, arching her eyebrows. “That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am, more calls would definitely be unusual. These are other chores I need to take care of. Mrs. Ellenbee told me that she needed help untangling her garden hose, for one.”

Myrtle frowned. “What in the name of all that’s good does Mrs. Ellenbee need her hose for? The last I saw, the forecast was for cold, wet weather. Does she think she needs to water her grass?”

“I didn’t trouble her to ask,” admitted Darrell. “She sounded real concerned about it, so I thought I’d relieve her mind real quick and just pop by there and take care of it. And while I’m on her street, I always bring Mrs. Patterson’s newspaper and mail to her front porch. It’s a challenge for her to get to the end of her driveway sometimes, the poor lady.”

Myrtle’s opinion was that Mrs. Patterson was as fit as a fiddle. She didn’t even have a cane, for heaven’s sake. Myrtle herself was in poorer condition than Alma Patterson. And Alma was probably twelve years younger than she. Red was going to have a conniption fit when he heard the news that Darrell was making these old ladies dependent on him. And Myrtle strongly suspected that they were making up problems so they could receive visits from the young policeman.

It was a fairly quiet ride back to Myrtle’s house, other than the low growling coming from Pasha’s carrier. Miles appeared rather put out for some reason. Myrtle finally broke the silence to say, “I can’t imagine what’s bothering you, Miles. It’s not like Pasha did anything really dreadful. She was just out of her usual environment and freaked out a little. Greener Pastures makes
me
want to freak out, too.”

Miles looked at her coldly before turning back to concentrate on the road. “I didn’t want you to bring her in the first place.”

“But Ruby was so excited,” said Myrtle weakly.

“And then Ruby nearly gets herself killed while she’s looking for the missing Pasha,” said Miles sternly.

Myrtle was quiet for a few moments, accepting the truth of this. “At least we found out some information.”

“Did we?” asked Miles. “My recollection of my time at Greener Pastures was that I spent the bulk of it searching for a missing feral cat while pretending that I wasn’t searching for a cat at all but taking myself on an extraordinarily detailed tour of the facility as I peered under tables.”

“Of course we learned information. We found Mickey’s underground newsletters and were able to question the Home about them. Darla was very defensive about Greener Pastures’ treatment of its residents…suspiciously so. Natalie reinforced the fact that we’re on track with the suspect list we’ve put together—and she mentioned that her mother had a bad habit of not locking her door. Ruby’s attack demonstrated that she did in fact have credible information about the night that Mickey died. And Darrell Smith confirmed that Mickey was indeed murdered.” Myrtle shrugged. “I think that’s a fairy successful outing.”

“Dare I ask what our plans are for tomorrow?” asked Miles. “Are we planning another insurgence at Greener Pastures? Perhaps this time involving more advanced weaponry?”

Myrtle narrowed her eyes at him. “Your tone really doesn’t suit you, Miles. And no—we have other plans at Greener Pastures, remember?”

Miles frowned.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. So we’re attending the party over there. You have to be my date since I told Winston you were,” said Myrtle.

“Oh, that’s right.” Miles’s voice was relieved that only a party factored into their plans. “So we’ll head over there before noon then.”

“Actually,” said Myrtle with a small cough, “I was able to have the schedule for the event changed. Now it’s a countdown to midnight instead of a countdown to noon. Since countdowns to noon are for children.” It still miffed her to think of it.

But the news didn’t appear to make Miles happy. “So we’ll have to be heading home from Greener Pastures after midnight? With a bunch of intoxicated drivers on the road? In the dark?”

“I’ve seen you drive in the dark a million times,” said Myrtle in a bored voice. “It gets dark here at five o’clock in the winter—you’re certainly driving after five in the dark.”

“Not in an ice storm,” said Miles.