Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) (8 page)

Myrtle had never been able to completely understand why her absolutely wonderful daughter-in-law was so smitten with her frequently irascible son. She was smart, upbeat, pretty, and a good deal younger. She’d learned that love operates in very mysterious ways indeed and perhaps the wags who said that opposites attract really had something. At any rate, she’d decided long ago to simply accept it.

But she couldn’t resist making a face at the coddling. “Elaine, that’s very sweet of you. But there’s a limit, right? Only so many hours in the day and only so much coddling that can possibly take place in those hours. Jack, being a toddler, requires most of them.” Myrtle hesitated, and then gave a sigh. “How about if I come by this afternoon and sit with Red for a while? And then you can choose what you want to do. You can go run errands, go put your feet up, take Jack out to the playground, or put Jack down for a nap.”

Elaine beamed at her. “Really?”

“Really. If Red needs coddling, he’s still got his mama around, after all. I may as well be the one to do it.” Myrtle squared her shoulders, feeling as if she were enlisting in the armed forces. “Maybe he can watch
Tomorrow’s Promise
with me. That always seems to entertain him.”

Now Elaine frowned. “Your soap opera? It
entertains
him?”

“Absolutely. It tickles him pink to point out all the unrealistic things going on, the silly names of the characters, the stilted dialogue, and the way everyone is so made-up and dressed to the nines even when they’re doing yard work,” said Myrtle. “I can make us some popcorn and we’ll have a fine time. You just figure out how you want to spend your free time.”

“My mind is racing! Wow. I’ll have to give it some thought.” Elaine took a huge sip of her coffee as if to power her brain to accept the challenge.

Myrtle watched Jack drive his truck up the side of the cartoon character’s face on the television. “Elaine, I was wondering how Red was doing with the fact that he’s not working right now. I mean, he’s been police chief for so many years and is so used to always being on the job. How is that going?”

Elaine waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “It’s been okay. I think he’s been a little frustrated because he wants to go out and do all the things that he usually does—make his rounds, call on the older ladies to make sure they’re doing all right, keep the peace in Bradley. But he can’t. And, although everybody in town knows that Red is laid up, sometimes they
still
call here, even though they know they’re supposed to be calling Darrell. I mean—what’s Red going to do about the stray dog that’s harassing Janie Mitchell? You know? He’s not going to be able to chase down a dog after knee surgery. But they still call him.”

“Just a habit, I guess. How’s that deputy of his doing? Darrell?”

Elaine considered this. “He’s okay. I don’t think he’s really the brightest bulb in the box, but if he were then he wouldn’t be satisfied with this job. But as a fill-in sent from the county, he’s doing pretty well. He’s been handling a bunch of minor incidents.”

“Minor incidents?” asked Myrtle. “What’s more minor than the Case of the Missing Yard Statue or the Case of the Stray Dog?”

“Oh, you know. Like when Miriam Morehead imagines that there’s someone in her house … every day. So
somebody
has to go calm her down and do a thorough enough search so that she settles down and can continue functioning. That sort of thing. Hand-holding,” said Elaine.

Myrtle knew that Red did a lot of handholding too, on a regular basis. “So Darrell doesn’t mind that kind of thing, then?”

“Not at all. It doesn’t even seem to frustrate him. In fact, Red says that he enters Miriam Morehead’s house every single time as if ready to jump an intruder. He has the ability to take it seriously even multiple times a week.” Elaine swiftly moved the remote control away from Jack, whose gaze had just latched onto it.

“Well, he sounds like a gift, then. Because I don’t think Red has it in him to be that patient under those circumstances,” said Myrtle.

Elaine said, “The only problem is that Red is worried that Darrell is coddling these old ladies. Red would ordinarily not really have to go
into
Miriam’s house. He’d be able to convince her on the phone that everything was all right and that he’d be there in a flash if she
did
discover there was someone in her house. If Darrell is encouraging them too much, then Red’s job is going to be a lot harder when he returns.”

They heard thumping and some muttered curses and Red stood in the doorway leading from the hall. “Mama. Thought I heard you,” said Red.

Myrtle tried very, very hard to keep her face pleasant but impassive. The sight of her son on a walker when he’d tried so many times to put the infernal contraption in her own house gave her a very un-Christian-like sense of satisfaction … especially, she hurried to reassure herself, since it was only a temporary measure, after all. It wasn’t as if Red were permanently disabled. And suddenly, Myrtle felt very spry on her cane. She resisted the urge to show off by prancing around the den.

“Red, you are in for a treat today.”

Red’s expression brightened. “You’re packing your gnomes away? Or, better yet, taking a sledgehammer to them?”

“Don’t be silly. No, I’m hereby naming today Mother and Son day. And very possibly Mother and Son and Grandson day,” said Myrtle.

Red shot Elaine an alarmed look before giving his mother a grimacing grin. “Ah. Well, that’s real nice of you, Mama. Real nice.”

“Can I get you something, Red?” asked Elaine, shifting on the sofa as if she were about to get up.

“No, I’m thinking that I should do a little bit of walking. At least to the coffeemaker,” grunted Red as he maneuvered the walker forward.

“It’s a good idea,” said Myrtle, “although I’m not sure what you’re going to do with that coffee cup after you’ve poured it, what with pushing the walker and all.” She wasn’t
trying
to be a smarty-pants. Hers was simply the voice of experience. A cane offered a lot more latitude too.

Red narrowed his eyes at her a little. “Well, I suppose that’s true. So I guess I’ll pour it and sit for a spell in the kitchen.”

Elaine asked, “Myrtle, want to move into the kitchen with us? I can give you a refill on that coffee and I’ve got some blueberry muffins that I made yesterday.”

“Sounds lovely, but I should be heading back home. Red, I’ll have a real visit with you this afternoon … with Jack, too, if Elaine wants to head out solo. So that means I have a few things to get done before then. Y’all have a nice morning.” Myrtle gave Red a cheery wave, kissed the top of Jack’s head as she stood up, and gave Elaine a quick hug.

Somehow, that visit had managed to last until after eight. Surely, Miles would be up now. It felt almost like lunchtime. She walked over to his house and rang his doorbell. Instead of seeing signs of Miles moving around, though, she saw signs of Erma Sherman stirring next door as Erma shoved a couple of windows open on the front of her house. It was never a good time of day to have an Erma sighting. In desperation and rising panic, she rang the doorbell a couple more times.

Now a bleary-eyed Miles, sporting stubble, yanked open his door and stared at her, blinking in the sunlight. Myrtle pushed past him. “Erma’s out there,” she muttered.

“Erma
lives
there,” said Miles. “Of course she’s there. She’s there every day.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I have to interact with her. She makes me lose my appetite and I had such a lovely appetite for breakfast when I was walking up to your door.” She paused. “Actually, I still do. Mind if I make us some scrambled eggs?”

Miles made a sweeping, be-my-guest gesture toward his kitchen. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I thought we already had a plan for today. And that the plan started out later than this.”

“Oh. I forgot to tell you. Mickey is dead,” said Myrtle. She opened up Miles’s fridge and pulled out eggs, milk, and some shredded cheese she found. There was already a frying pan on the stove. She eyed it suspiciously. “Is this clean? And, if it’s clean, why isn’t it away in the cabinet?”

“It’s clean and was drying on the stove last night after I used it. For heaven’s sake, Myrtle, stay focused. Mickey’s
dead
? The Mickey we met yesterday and thought might make a promising murder victim? That Mickey?” Miles pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down rather abruptly.

“That Mickey. And Ruby called me hours ago to let me know. The staff is acting as if it were a natural death, apparently.”

“And Ruby clearly disagrees?” asked Miles.

“Yes. And Inez too, apparently. Who can blame them though, with Mickey going on and on about feeling endangered at Greener Pastures? And, of course, we have our psychic advisor indicating that there was going to be foul play,” said Myrtle. She whisked the eggs and milk together, looked in the bowl and added two more eggs. They needed fortification today.

“Myrtle, I have to caution you about using the term
psychic advisor
too loosely. We’re already in a position where no one is going to believe us and if we mention Wanda, then it’s only going to get worse.” Miles rubbed his eyes as if he were still struggling to wake up. “So…what are we going to do? I guess head on over there this morning and try to talk to someone?”

“That’s right. I was going to give the staff a chance to respond. We’ll tell them that Mickey said she thought she was in danger at the home and that there were definitely some people who might have wanted to get her out of the way.” Myrtle put two slices of bread in Miles’s toaster.

“And if the Greener Pastures staff doesn’t respond appropriately?” asked Miles. “Which is what I’m guessing will happen?”

“Then we’ll call the police,” said Myrtle simply. “So that means Darrell since Red is out of pocket. Elaine filled me in on Darrell earlier today and it sounds as if he might be one of those incredibly earnest types … he might actually believe us and open an investigation.”

“Wait a minute …
earlier today
? You’ve already been visiting somewhere else before now?” Miles stared at her.

“Just be glad that I realized you might still be asleep,” said Myrtle, waving a spatula at Miles. “Yes, all the lights were on at Red’s house, so I popped over there before coming here. It was fine. I’m actually going to babysit Red this afternoon, so that’s why I was thinking we could go ahead and get to Greener Pastures as soon as you’re ready.”

There was too much talking and not enough paying attention to the skillet, unfortunately. Myrtle scraped up some eggs that were sticking to the pan. She surreptitiously looked behind her. Fortunately, Miles appeared to be deep in thought. Myrtle took the opportunity to put the dried-up scrambled egg onto some rather overcooked toast and then put a large slice of American cheese on the top to cover up any potential egg inadequacies. The slice slid off the egg pile immediately, so she quickly popped it into the microwave to melt it a little.

“Babysit
Red
?” muttered Miles. “Don’t you mean
Jack
?”

“No, I most definitely mean Red. After lunch. So let’s get a move on.” The American cheese started popping in the microwave and Myrtle opened the door and yanked it out. How on earth could one thin slice of cheese have contributed to that much spattering in the microwave? She took a fork and tried to reconstruct the cheese on the egg top before finally pushing it in front of Miles.

An hour later, a Greener Pastures manager by the name of Darla was looking at them with a very long, serious face. Darla had artificially blonde hair and blue eye shadow. Darla’s long face did not seem to have anything to do with the fact that Miles and Myrtle had just asked her to ask the police to investigate a resident’s death. It seemed to be more in keeping with her general disposition and outlook on the world.

“Mrs. Clover, I appreciate your concern over our resident. But I can assure you that we hold safety in the very highest regard here. Mrs. Pelias experienced a natural death while she was sleeping, which is honestly not a bad way to go. We’ll miss her, of course. But there was nothing at all untoward in her demise.” Darla’s clipped speech was so pat that Myrtle wondered if she’d given it before. Did Greener Pastures residents frequently ascribe foul play to seemingly natural deaths?

Myrtle felt her face flush. She was used to not being taken seriously, but it was still extremely galling. She was just opening her mouth with a hot retort when Miles quickly jumped in.

“You see, Ms. … um … Darla, the reason we want to report the possibility of foul play is because the resident, Mrs. Pelias, brought it up herself only yesterday. She told us that she felt her life was in danger. It seems very coincidental that she met her Maker the very same night,” said Miles in a reasonable voice that Myrtle envied. She still felt as if her blood pressure were up.

Darla gave him something of a patronizing smile. “I realize that y’all think it’s your duty to bring this to my attention. But there is no cause for concern. Mrs. Pelias was a bit paranoid, you see. She thought people were out to get her. Maybe it made her feel important to think that way, who knows? At any rate, she was constantly telling staff members that she felt her life was in danger—for at least a year. And every other night she was just fine. Unfortunately, we only have a certain amount of time on this earth and her time was simply up, that’s all. But again, I do appreciate your concern and I’m sure that, if Mrs. Pelias was still around, she would appreciate it too.”

Darla stood up to indicate that their meeting in her tiny office was over. Myrtle stood up, too, and gave her a haughty look. “It wasn’t only Mrs. Pelias who felt that way. Ruby Sims called me this morning to let me know. And Inez Wilson believed it was foul play, too. ”

Now Darla smirked. “Well, that’s Mrs. Sims for you. She’s a loyal friend, but frequently a bit confused. And Ms. Wilson is a fan of drama. Rest assured that you have nothing to worry about here, Mrs. Clover. The residents of Greener Pastures are completely safe from harm here. That’s the entire reason they’re here after all—to be safe. And we take that responsibility very seriously.”