Read Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) Online

Authors: Elizabeth Spann Craig

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

BOOK: Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7)
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“I trust Wanda,” answered Randy in his gritty voice. “Ain’t got no reason not to trust her. Besides, I got eyes and ears, even if I don’t have the Sight. And stuff ain’t right here, Miss Myrtle. Not right at all. Wanda said you’d set things straight.”

Myrtle frowned. “Am I on the right path, though? It’s hard to know how to set things straight when I don’t actually know what in direction I’m heading. Do you think that this trouble might involve Mickey Pelias? Wanda had spoken of a hard woman who writes. And she certainly fits that bill.”

Randy absently scrubbed at the handrail as he considered the question. The sun shone down on his receding hairline and highlighted the blond strands in his ponytail. “It could. I think it does. People are right mad at Miss Mickey.”

“Okay,” said Myrtle briskly. “Well, unfortunately, it looked as if we were on the point of overstaying our welcome today, as far as Mickey was concerned. We’ll try to make it back … tomorrow?” Myrtle gave Miles a questioning look and he nodded. “We’ll poke around some more, try to get more out of Mickey. And you—do you think you can talk to us tomorrow, too?”

Randy looked relieved. “Yes, I can. And thanks.”

“Out of curiosity,” said Miles, “why aren’t you approaching the Greener Pastures management about this issue? Since it’s an obvious safety concern.”

Randy stared, openmouthed at Miles before starting to laugh—a guffawing laugh that quickly broke off into coughing. It appeared that Randy might share Wanda’s smoking habit. Finally, he said, “Management just wants to keep the peace. They don’t care nothin’ about nobody.”

Chapter Six

Myrtle put her seatbelt on as they climbed into Miles’s car. “Well, what did you think? There was lots going on over there wasn’t there? And I don’t mean the Scrabble games we passed by.”

“Well, she certainly seems like a rather difficult woman,” muttered Miles as he put the key in the ignition and started the car.

“Natalie?” Myrtle snorted. “For sure!”

“No, I meant Mickey. I think she bosses Natalie around a lot.”

Myrtle said, “But what is Natalie doing? Does she even have employment? Is that why Mickey referred to her as a vulture? Was she just hanging around Mickey for handouts?”

Miles gave her a startled look. “But Natalie has to take care of her mother. She’s probably sacrificing a career to help out. All I’m saying is that if anyone’s supposed to kill anyone, it would likely be Natalie doing her mother in.”

“Natalie’s mother is in a retirement home with a staff to take care of her. Whatever Natalie is doing, she’s doing because she
wants
to for some reason. And apparently, Mickey thinks that Natalie’s motives and other people’s motives are monetarily-related,” said Myrtle. “And you didn’t think that insane old man acted as if he had a motive?”

“Which one? The one who was practically sitting on your lap in the dining room?” chortled Miles.

Myrtle gave Miles an icy glare. “I’m going to try to pretend that you didn’t say that, Miles. Really!”

“Well, I have to admit that I’m curious. I haven’t heard you ever mention the name ‘Winston’ before.”

Myrtle said, “For good reason.”

“And it was very intriguing to hear two people at lunch refer to you at Miss Towers.”

“It simply goes to show that I’ve been in the area for a long, long time. And that I knew everyone, once upon a time, who lived here. I suppose that Inez must have moved away after graduation and just returned after retirement, or else surely she’d know that I married quite a while back,” said Myrtle huffily.

“And why wouldn’t Winston have kept up with your marital status—since he apparently was quite interested in it?” asked Miles, glancing sideways at her as they drove off the Greener Pastures property and onto the street.

“Why? Because he married someone else,” snapped Myrtle. “And that’s all I currently want to say about that since I’m trying to discuss potential murder suspects and a potential victim with you. Seriously, Miles!”

Miles had a rather abashed look on his face. “All right, sorry. I didn’t realize it was a sensitive subject. I was waiting for you to eviscerate him completely at lunch, but you didn’t do it. It made me curious.”

“Let’s just say that I was caught off-guard, that’s all. Now, onto the ornery old man that Ruby says is mean. The one with “Fred” on his door. If we’ve determined that Mickey is a good pick for a potential victim—mainly on the fact that she practically stated that herself—then the old fellow could be a suspect since he obviously has some sort of grudge against her,” said Myrtle. She pulled a peppermint out of her pocketbook and popped it into her mouth. She was putting her pocketbook back down on the floor of the car when she stopped and fished out a mint for Miles as an afterthought.

Miles smiled at her as he took it and somehow managed to unwrap it as he drove. “Right. So his business is his business and no one else’s. Quite a character. So what I took from that, is that he had some kind of a secret. He wanted to get it off his chest so he spoke about it to Ruby who seems sweet and innocuous on the outside but is embedded with Scary Mickey who perhaps even published something about his secret in the underground newsletter that Mickey runs.”

“Underground news
paper
, that is,” corrected Myrtle, “lest we offend Mickey.”

“And, yes, that would obviously give him a motive for potential violent action against Mickey. But he’s not the only one. I really do think that Mickey’s daughter, Natalie, has the stronger motive. And who can blame her?” said Miles.

“Well, we can’t convict someone for a crime that hasn’t happened, Miles. And we don’t have enough information yet, either. So let’s plan on heading back tomorrow. If you hurry back, we can watch
Tomorrow’s Promise.
And I hope today’s episode is really, really foolish today. I need to recharge after being in the soul-sucking Greener Pastures environment half the day,” said Myrtle.

“I’m getting us home as fast as possible, Myrtle.”

They were just pulling onto Magnolia Lane and heading in the direction of Myrtle’s house when Myrtle started rifling through her large pocketbook. “Well, I’ll be. Miles! Someone pickpocketed me.”

“Are you sure?” asked Miles.

“Of course, I’m sure! I know when I have money and when I don’t. And I don’t have enough money not to keep track of it,” said Myrtle. She dug all the way to the bottom of her purse, under the tissue container, under the mints, under the lipstick. Nothing.

“Now, you did pay for lunch, remember,” said Miles.

“But I didn’t pay
twenty dollars
for lunch. And that’s what I had in there. I had a ten and two fives. All I have left is the change from the ten.” Myrtle heaved a sigh. “How irritating.”

“Maybe that’s a clue,” said Miles thoughtfully as he pulled up into Myrtle’s driveway.

“A clue that I need to keep my pocketbook zipped up, maybe,” grumbled Myrtle.

“And a clue that someone we associated closely with today isn’t all that they seem,” said Miles.

 

The next morning, Myrtle was giving Pasha a can of cat food when the sound of the phone ringing made her jump. She swung her head around to confirm that the clock actually did state that it was seven in the morning. Myrtle had been up for ages. But it wasn’t ordinarily a time for her to be receiving phone calls.

She hurried to the wall phone under her rooster clock and picked up. “Hello? Hello?”

“Sweetie?” a sad voice whispered. The voice hesitated, and then said as if reading off a paper, “Myrtle?”

She
knew
she shouldn’t have given Ruby her phone number. The poor thing was just too addled to handle the responsibility. “Ruby Sims? Is this you?”

Not bothering to answer the question, Ruby spoke in a tumbling rush. “Mickey was right! Her life
was
in danger. And now she’s dead!”

“Dead?” Myrtle pulled a kitchen chair out and plopped down in it. “Dead, as in someone took her out before her time? Or dead as in—she lived a long life and it was a natural causes-type thing?”

Ruby said sadly, “Dead because somebody didn’t like her, sweetie. I think—I think I must have heard something last night. I heard a lot of commotion next door. In the middle of the night, you know.”

“A commotion?” asked Myrtle. “Thumping around, screaming, glass breaking?”

“Well—no. No,” said Ruby sounding a little confused but earnest. “More like a door opening and closing. And maybe some footsteps. My hearing is pretty good and I don’t sleep well at night. But I take lots of naps during the day, you know. And I thought—well, I’m trying to remember what I did last night. I want to say I looked out my door for just a second and saw a dark shape. That’s what I think. But I thought it was Mickey. Now it looks like maybe it was a bad visitor.”

The problem was that Ruby was not the best of witnesses. She was clearly unreliable at best. And she’d believed that every word out of Mickey’s mouth was gospel. But it was at the very least, suspicious. “So what are they doing at Greener Pastures now? Has the staff called the police? The medical examiner? What’s going on?”

Ruby said slowly, thoughtfully, “No. No, they called an ambulance. I asked what was going on and they said that Mickey had slipped away in her sleep. Except that the woman who didn’t like Mickey was convinced Mickey hadn’t died in her sleep. She was yelling at the staff about it. She had stopped by Mickey’s room to see if she wanted to go to breakfast with her. And she…wasn’t alive.”

Myrtle mulled this over. Didn’t like Mickey. “Was it Inez, maybe? One of your neighbors on the hall, isn’t she?”

“Oh yes!” answered Ruby in relief at getting a name. “That’s right. But the staff said that Inez was wrong and that Mickey had died of natural causes. But she didn’t. I know she didn’t. And they don’t believe me. Or Inez.”

“Well, they’d believe you both if she had any obvious wounds,” said Myrtle briskly. “So I guess we’re assuming that … well, that she hadn’t.” She’d been going to say that they’d have to assume that Mickey had been smothered, but decided not to risk making Ruby more fractured than she already was.

“That’s right,” said Ruby quickly. “Because when I heard the commotion—the ambulance men and the staff a little while ago—then I poked my head out. I saw Mickey come out on a stretcher and she did look real peaceful. But I know that it wasn’t her time, sweetie. I know it.”

Myrtle sighed. “Okay. So I’ll get Miles to take me back out there today and I’ll see what I can do about getting Mickey’s death investigated by someone.” She stopped, realizing that Ruby hadn’t actually asked her to do anything. She had only called to share her news because she probably had a piece of paper near her phone with Myrtle’s name and number on it. Was Ruby going to be surprised at her interest?

Instead, Ruby sounded delighted. “Will you? That would be so good. I told the staff, but they kept ignoring me. And Inez, too. If you came—you and your friend—maybe they would listen to you.”

Hanging up, Myrtle thought wryly how amazing it was that both Wanda and Ruby seemed to think Myrtle had the ability to make people listen, when usually it was the complete opposite. It just went to show that poor Wanda and Ruby were even more easily ignored than Myrtle was.

She looked at the clock again and realized there was really no reason for her to bother Miles right now. They could always investigate a little later in the morning. Pasha looked as if she wanted to go back out again to do some hunting, so Myrtle let her out the front door. As she did, she saw lights on at Red’s house across the street. Not just one light, either—the house was ablaze with light. Jack was a toddler and kept odd hours and an injured Red probably did, too. Half of her wanted to talk with Red about the case and half of her was just glad to keep him out of her business. It would be helpful, though, if she could get some sort of direction to take with Red’s deputy, Darrell Smith. Maybe she could ask him about Darrell without telling him about Mickey.

Myrtle walked across the street and rapped at the front door. Elaine opened up the door right away. “Myrtle,” she said. “Just the person I wanted to see. I’m ready for a cup of coffee—would you like some? If I have a little adult company right now, then I think I can handle having cartoons playing in the background.”

It was a testament to Myrtle’s unpredictable sleeping patterns that her daughter-in-law showed not the least bit of surprise at Myrtle showing up at her door at seven a.m. Myrtle followed her in, smiling at Jack who was playing with trucks and occasionally looking up and staring at what seemed like a very frenetic cartoon where the characters would burst into intermittent singing.

When Jack spotted her, he jumped up a bit awkwardly to his feet and ran over to grab her leg for a hug. Since Myrtle was used to Jack’s hugs, she was prepared by leaning heavily on her other leg and cane. Then she could give him a hug in return and not pay for it by falling on top of the poor child at the same time.

Elaine returned with steaming coffees and sat down next to Myrtle. Myrtle said, “I don’t know how you do it, Elaine. You look more refreshed than I do and I know you couldn’t have gotten much sleep with an ailing husband and a toddler on your hands.”

“Oh, last night wasn’t so bad. Jack was worn out because we were at the park all afternoon. I think Red was ready for some alone time. You know.”

Myrtle knew. Red’s nerves were probably starting to fray after being homebound after the surgery. And being homebound with an active toddler didn’t exactly fit the definition of ‘quiet recovery.’

“Well, hopefully
Red
will give
you
some alone time once he’s back on his feet and policing the good town of Bradley again,” said Myrtle. “I’m sure you need it. And remember that you can bring Jack by to play with his Nana at
any
time if you need a break. I love playing with trucks,” said Myrtle in a convincing tone. Convincing enough that Jack ran over to hand Myrtle a dump truck for her playing enjoyment.

Elaine smiled at Myrtle. “And you know I appreciate that. But it’s been going pretty well. I do feel sort of bad for Red, though.” She said in a low voice, “You know how men are. When they’re sick, they revert to being little boys. I think Red needs more coddling than I’m able to dole out.”

BOOK: Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7)
5.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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