Pretty is as Pretty Dies (A Myrtle Clover Mystery) (11 page)

Soppy condescension was a big reason Myrtle hated being old.
She'd never have tolerated that kind of disrespect all those years in
her classroom. She bet itsy bitsy Tanya wouldn't be smiling when
her tip was reduced. Or when Myrtle solved the murder everybody
in town was talking about.

Myrtle's favorite waitress noticed Myrtle's disgusted expression
and quickly intervened. Shelia wasn't sure if she was saving Myrtle
from Tanya's sugary sweetness, or Tanya from a blistering reply.

"Hey, Tanya. It's time for your break, isn't it? I'll take your table."

Tanya's mouth opened and she closed it back up again. "Already? Well, I could use a smoke. See you later, lovey," she said to
Myrtle with a smile. Myrtle bared her teeth in return.

"My hero," said Myrtle. Shelia's grin brightened her still-pretty
middle-aged face.

"Don't mention it. It's slow now, anyway. Tanya was due for a
break. Although it's a little early for it." And Shelia smiled again.

Ten minutes later, a plate heaped with greasy chili fries and a
slaw dog arrived at the table and Shelia plopped down in the booth
across from Myrtle. "If you've got a second to chat, I'll get off my
feet for a minute."

Myrtle looked as gossipy as she could. "Now that you're here,
Shelia, you can give me a little insider gossip. No, don't give me
that innocent look. You know you've got your finger on the town
pulse. Got any ideas about who killed Parke Stockard?"

The waitress laughed. "I should be asking you. You discovered
her body."

Myrtle impatiently waved a blue-veined hand around in the
air. "That wasn't anything. What I'm interested in hearing is who
had a beef with Parke." She took a healthy bite of her slaw dog.

"Well, that would be half the town, Miss Myrtle. Pretty as she
was, she wasn't going to win any popularity contests around here."

"Because people were jealous of her? For being rich and beautiful?"

"Being rich and beautiful was okay, but being pushy and mean
wasn't. One of our customers here used to live on Boulevard in one
of those real fancy houses ... about sixty years old, beautiful architecture. I'm not saying she's not happy about all the money she
made from selling the land to Parke. But Parke was a total witch
when she pressured her to sell. She kept harping on the old, crummy
kitchen and outdated decor. She convinced her she could never sell
it with the new homes competing for buyers right down the street. It
was just her tone of voice and the way she'd flip her hair out of her
face and roll her eyes ... cocky." Shelia shook her head. "No one
could stand her."

"And this kind of pressure is what Parke tried to apply to Tanner and Althea Hayes, right?" asked Myrtle, before taking a big sip
from her sweet tea.

Shelia nodded. "Yes ma'am. That's what I hear, anyway. I heard
Althea talk to her nephew Josh-the newspaper guy-about it. She
said Tanner was determined not to sell their land to Parke's development company. But Parke was just as determined to get it. She
said some really ugly things to him right before he had a massive
heart attack and died out in their front yard. Poor Althea. She just
seems lost without him."

"Who else was upset with Parke?"

The waitress blew out a gusty sigh and tapped her fake fingernails on the table. "Who wasn't?"

"Well, I know about the Benton Chambers' conflict, of course.
That's public knowledge."

Shelia raised carefully plucked brows. "Their affair was public
knowledge?"

"What? No, I meant that she was trying to pressure him into
being more friendly to development and zoning changes. What affair?"

Shelia picked up a fork and flipped it over and over thoughtfully. "I guess that might have been a way to pressure Benton. I sure
can't see any other reason for her to get involved with him. Parke
was gorgeous-could have had any man in town eating out of her
hand. And Benton..." Shelia made a face.

Myrtle said, "He was much better looking when he was a younger
man.

She squinted doubtfully. "If you say so, Miss Myrtle. But he's
nobody's pretty child now."

"Back to this affair, though. You know about it, so it obviously
couldn't have been all that secret?"

Shelia shook her head a quick no, ponytail swishing from side
to side. "No, I think it was a secret. I just happened to overhear
Parke when she was waiting to pay for lunch at the counter and
talking to Benton."

"What was she saying to him?"

"Parke was talking in this really tight voice. Saying something
about her thinking the time they shared together might have made
him realize how important the development project on Boulevard
was to her. Benton was just babbling away, not really saying anything."

Myrtle said mildly, "But she could have been talking about a
meeting they'd had in his office where she'd explained her position
on the development plan."

Shelia gave a wheezy laugh. "If they had a meeting in his office,
it was a closed-door one. Parke's voice got real ugly. She said she'd never have wasted her time on him if she hadn't thought he'd
change his mind about rezoning Boulevard. Then..." Shelia
pinched her frosted pink mouth shut.

Myrtle prompted, "Well?"

"Well, I couldn't hear the next part as well. But it sounded like
she was threatening him."

"Like ... she'd tell about their affair if he didn't change his position and support development?"

The waitress shook her head vigorously. "No. Like she'd tell
about a different affair he was having that she knew about."

This might be the one Crazy Dan knew about. Unless there was
yet another one. "When does Benton have time to work on Bradley's business?"

"I don't know, Miss Myrtle. But it makes sense that Parke
wouldn't want to tell about their affair ... she'd have ended up looking about as bad as he would if word got out. And she was trying to
sell people on her company."

The bells on the diner door rang out as josh Tucker walked in.
Shelia nodded toward him. "And that one wasn't happy with Miss
Priss, either. Not one bit."

"Josh Tucker? Why on earth would he be upset with Parke?"

Shelia leaned toward Myrtle and folded and refolded a napkin,
making a careful crease. "He was telling Althea-his aunt, you
know-something about Parke. I couldn't hear all of it, but he was
mad. Then the next day, he was almost yelling at Sloan Jones about
him cutting one of his articles to make more room for Parke's piece.
It didn't sound like the first time they'd argued about it, either."

Myrtle waved a hand dismissively. "Well, I'm sure Sloan justy
trimmed a word here and there. Probably a far cry from the hatchet job he's done on my columns. She drank a little more sweet tea. "So
he must have been telling Althea how frustrated he was, too."

"Well, he has ended up being kind of a big shot in the town.
Winning that award for the Bugle and everything."

Myrtle looked cross at the reminder.

"Plus the fact that josh is real close to his aunt and uncle, you
know. I bet he didn't take kindly to the fact that Parke Stockard
killed his uncle."

Myrtle choked a little on the last of her chili fries. "Is that what
people are saying? That Parke killed Tanner?"

"She might just as well have picked up a gun and shot him,
Miss Myrtle-the outcome was the same. She got him all fired up
and next thing you know he was a goner with a heart attack. Too
much Parke Stockard."

More likely too many slaw dogs and chili fries at Bo's Diner.
Myrtle looked at her empty plate ruefully. Tanner was a regular for
lunch, and it probably caught up with his arteries.

Bo called out to Shelia, "Hey, we've got two orders up!"

Shelia stood up, pulled the check out of her apron pocket, and
handed it to Myrtle to take up front. "I've got to run, Miss Myrtle.
Good talking with you."

Myrtle saw Tanya coming back out and hustled to the cash register. "You take care, sweet-ums!" Tanya hollered across the diner.

"You too, sugar pops!" returned Myrtle, as she fished some cash
out of her pocketbook.

THE DINER DOOR SWUNG shut behind her as Myrtle started walking home. It was one of those hot afternoons where the breeze
made you hotter instead of cooling you off. She was full of greasy
food and taking a nap during her favorite soap opera, Tomorrow's
Promise, was the next order of business.

Her plans were foiled, however, with a yoo-hoo from behind
her. Myrtle's face was pained as Erma Sherman drove up and
pulled over onto the curb. She opened the car door and waddled
toward Myrtle. She was wearing a large-print, flowered dress that
hung on her big frame like a tent.

Myrtle flinched as Erma sidled up into her personal space to talk.
Her large, rodent-like teeth were exposed in what Erma fondly
thought of as a smile. "Where are you heading, Myrtle? I'll drive you
there. You shouldn't be walking to the store like this-you were at
death's door yesterday and you don't look a bit better today" Erma
backed up a bit, remembering Myrtle's viral contagion.

"Thanks," mumbled Myrtle. There was no point arguing that
she hadn't been going to the store or that she felt perfectly
fine ... Erma Sherman was an unstoppable force of nature.

Erma completely ignored Myrtle's weak refusal as she bulldozed
her toward her elderly Cadillac. The inside of the car reeked of menthol cough drops. As they drove off, Erma provided a running commentary about the trouble her bunions were giving her. She was either going deaf or was determined to hold onto her captive audience.
They drove by Myrtle's house and Myrtle pounded on the car window, pointing helplessly as Erma's tale of podiatric woe continued.
Finally, Myrtle gave in to her misery, slumping in the seat. The
amount of nonsense spewing out of Erma's mouth was amazing.
"... especially since Kitty poisoned Parke. Because that was no accident. But you know, I've never liked Kitty's casseroles. Especially her
chicken a la king. So I had to agree with Parke there. My stomach
problems, you know. The other day I was eating tuna... "

"Whoa!" said Myrtle. And Erma reined herself in with surprise.
"What are you talking about? Kitty poisoning Parke Stockard?
What?"

Erma looked nonplussed. "Well, Wednesday night fellowship a
few weeks ago. Parke had been complaining for months about Kitty's `uninspired casseroles' And everybody knew Parke was allergic
to shellfish. Kitty, of all people, knew that. She's been so careful
about the flower arrangements for altar guild, you know-no
roses. Because that wonderful reporter at the Bugle-Josh Tucker?
He's horribly allergic to roses. So she always brings wildflowers-"

"The poisoning?" gritted Myrtle between her teeth, cutting off
another Erma Sherman homage to josh Tucker.

"So she would have been careful not to have any shellfish at the
Wednesday night dinners. Because she makes notes about things
like that. Besides, the church budget is a chicken budget, not a seafood budget."

Myrtle gave an exasperated sigh.

"But she did-she put crabmeat in a casserole and told everyone it was `chicken surprise"' Erma gave a squeaky laugh. "It was a
surprise, all right. Parke swelled up, broke out in a rash, had trouble breathing. They took her to the hospital. Did I tell you about
the last time I went to the hospital? I had this kidney stone..."

Myrtle tuned back out. Was Kitty worried because the police
might want to question her over the food poisoning a few weeks
ago? Or was she worried because she had lashed out at Parke
Stockard again, this time killing her?

"Anyway, I'm glad to see you're all right before I go out of town
for the next couple of days." She paused, a cue for Myrtle to ask
where she was going. Myrtle didn't comply.

"I'm going to the casino. The one on the reservation? You need
to go with me some time. Sometimes I come back with ever so
much money. But then, I've always had good luck."

Myrtle doubted that very much. Erma certainly hadn't won the
looks lottery. Finally able to get a word in, she said, "I don't gamble
though, Erma. So I won't be interested."

Erma said, "But you'd have fun. The old folks' bus takes us. The
senior recreation program. Besides, lots of people gamble, Myrtle.
You'd be surprised."

Myrtle's look said that she would be surprised, and Erma said,
"Even the rich folks gamble, Myrtle. I've seen Cecil Stockard there
many times." Noticing she'd finally gotten Myrtle's attention, Erma added importantly, "And he's a big roller. You know... one of
those..."

"Yes, I know what a big roller is," said Myrtle impatiently. "You're
sure about that?"

"Of course I am. I even hear that he gambles on the Internet,
too. I wonder if he's won a ton of money."

Or lost a ton of money. That could provide a motive for murder.

Myrtle jolted back to the present when Erma ran over a curb,
coasted diagonally into a parking place, and slammed on her
brakes.