A Body at Book Club (Myrtle Clover Mysteries) (11 page)

“Yard work. I was doing yard work.” Claudia’s nail bitten hand stopped pulling her ear lobe and clutched her throat again.

“Oh, excellent!” Myrtle gave Claudia a bright smile. “Wonderful, that’s truly wonderful. So then you can tell me if you saw anything suspicious.”

Claudia frowned in puzzlement.

“Maybe you saw someone acting suspiciously in the neighborhood? Someone disheveled as if they’d been bolting through wooded areas, maybe?”

Claudia hesitated. “I’m not really sure.”

“Or, perhaps, you’ve seen Pasha? Since you’ve been outside such a long time, I mean.”

Now Claudia looked truly concerned. “Pasha? Is someone missing?”

“Pasha is my cat,” said Myrtle, slowly. “Remember? I came by here with some flyers. You said you’d look out for her.”

“Oh, yes!  Right. The white cat.”

“The black cat,” said Myrtle tersely.

Claudia just shook her head miserably.

“Look, have you seen or noticed
anything
?”  Myrtle could feel frustration welling up in her like heartburn. “When did you last see Rose?”

“Not since book club,” said Claudia quickly. Maybe too quickly.

Myrtle was getting nowhere. She chose a slightly different tack. “And, by the way, everyone thinks you were wildly jealous of Naomi Pelter. That you resented her upstaging you in the choir. Can you speak to that?”

Claudia burst into tears. Myrtle, never one to handle crying well, glanced around the cluttered room for a box of tissues. Seeing none, she dug in her gigantic pocketbook. All she could come up with was a tissue she’d used to blot her lipstick. “Here,” she mumbled, “this is clean. I only used it for my makeup.” She sighed. If only Miles had been here. He’d have given her one of those warning looks of his that were so handy when Myrtle was about to accidentally step over the line with a suspect interview.

Claudia took it gratefully and blew her nose resoundingly.

“So, tell me about it, dear. I understand that Naomi wasn’t the nicest woman in the world. Was she mean to you?”  Myrtle felt as if she were back in the classroom, trying to help a student deal with a bully.

Claudia’s eyes were still full of tears. “That’s what makes it so awful. Naomi was always so nice to me!  So very sweet.”

Myrtle sincerely doubted this. What she felt more sure of was that poor Claudia was too naïve to pick out false praise.

“Naomi always told me what a great singer I was and how privileged she felt to sing in the same choir as me. But Naomi–” It seemed to pain Claudia to continue. She swallowed hard. “She was a much better singer than I am.”

“Oh. Well, I doubt that,” said Myrtle brusquely.

“No, it’s true. She had the voice of an angel. It was amazing,” said Claudia slowly. She appeared dumbfounded just contemplating Naomi’s skill.

“Are you back to being the lead soloist now?” asked Myrtle. “Has the choir director spoken with you at all about it?”

Claudia flushed and gave a quick shoulder shrug. “It was one of those things that sort of went without saying. Since I was the lead before Naomi was.”

“And now you feel bad because you’re the lead again.”

“All of my problems were fixed when Naomi died,” Claudia said softly. “I have only one talent. Only one gift. I’m not pretty or smart or good at things. Naomi was all of those things and more. Once she decided she wanted to sing in the choir…my whole life was turned upside-down. My singing was the only thing that people were kind to me about. Now things are better again…and I feel so guilty.”

Myrtle studied her. Yes, she did feel guilty. But she also felt joy—a gladness. You could see it in her. And, really, who could blame her? “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to get rid of Naomi?”

“Isn’t that what we should be asking about Rose? Shouldn’t we be wondering who might have wanted to get rid of her?” asked Claudia, twisting her tissue in her hand.

“I have a feeling that Rose was murdered because she knew who killed Naomi. So once we find out who murdered Naomi, we’ll know who murdered Rose.”

Claudia frowned as if she’d forgotten what the original question was.

“Can you think of someone who might have wanted Naomi dead?” asked Myrtle with more patience than she was feeling.

“Oh. Well, Maxine,” said Claudia. She made a bit of a face when she said the name, as if it was sour in her mouth.

“Maxine didn’t like Naomi?”

“No. Not at all.” Claudia paused, but when Myrtle was clearly waiting for more explanation, she reluctantly continued. “Some sort of a love thing. I really don’t know.” And Claudia gave a wave of her hand to indicate that she wasn’t at all sure how complex love triangles operated.

Myrtle pushed up with one hand on the seat of the sofa and stood up. She saw a flash of relief on Claudia’s face as Myrtle got ready to leave.

“I’ll be sure to look out for your dog,” said Claudia in a hurry, standing up herself.

Myrtle gave a tight smile. “It’s a cat. Pasha. A black cat.”

“Yes, that’s right. A black cat.”

Myrtle said in a casual voice, “I suppose I’ll see you soon—maybe at garden club. I’ve been terrible at attending lately. Dreadful. But you’ve been to the last couple of meetings, haven’t you?”

Claudia said, “I go to all the meetings. The ones for book club, too. I don’t get out much, otherwise.”

It had a ring of truth to it. Myrtle added, “You’re good to go. I’m always just worried that I’m going to get stuck next to someone I don’t want to talk to. Like Erma Sherman.”

Myrtle shuddered and this made a smile tug at the corners of Claudia’s mouth.

Myrtle continued, “Haven’t they been trying to do some sort of seating arrangements, too? Elaine was telling me about it one time. Place cards. That means I’d really be trapped.”

“Just at their luncheons and things. But if you don’t like where you’re sitting, you can pick up your place card and trade with someone else. When no one’s looking,” said Claudia earnestly.

“Really? And you’ve seen people do this?” asked Myrtle.

Claudia flushed again. “It’s okay. People do it.”

“Did you see anyone do it at the garden club luncheon?” asked Myrtle intently.

Claudia flushed even redder and violently shook her head, making her small curls jiggle on top of her head.

Had Rose Mayfield seen something like this happen? Except the motivation wasn’t to escape a horrendous bore like Erma Sherman—but to slip a poisonous mushroom into a salad?

Chapter Eleven

After leaving Claudia’s house, Myrtle walked rather slowly in the direction of home, trying to organize her thoughts as she walked. Unfortunately, at one point she wasn’t really watching where she was treading and stepped into some gravel on the sidewalk, that made her stumble. She was glaring at the gravel and kicking it to the side with her foot when she heard a car drive up behind her.

Myrtle turned quickly, thinking it must be Miles again, spying and seeing her walking with difficulty. But it was Maxine Tristan. She rolled her window down and called out, “You all right? Hop in. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”

Myrtle was irritated at being caught stumbling and almost refused the help…but then realized that this was a good way to do a quick follow-up with Maxine. She’d talked to Maxine only yesterday—but yesterday Rose Mayfield had been alive. And now there was the fact that Claudia had pointed a finger at Maxine. Plenty to talk over. She forced a smile on her face and said, “That’s very kind of you, Maxine. I’ll take you up on that. I’m heading back home.”

Myrtle plopped down in Maxine’s front seat. This was a difficult task because this was what would be considered a
cute
car. Cute cars had no backseats to speak of, not much of a front seat, were low to the ground, were oddly shaped, and were stick shift. Myrtle wondered if she might require a forklift to get back out of the front seat.

Plus, Maxine seemed to be smoking again. And in the small confines of this
cute
vehicle, Myrtle wouldn’t be able to escape the fumes. She glared ferociously at the offending article and Maxine hastily stubbed it out. “Don’t like cigarettes? Really? I thought everyone your age smoked or used to smoke, Miss Myrtle.”

“I’m not everyone,” said Myrtle.

“You’re not. That’s why I like you,” said Maxine.

Myrtle hurried on, since the drive home would be a short one. “Thanks for the ride, Maxine. I guess I’m more decrepit than I ordinarily would be…since it’s been such a trying day.”

She peered sideways at Maxine, but Maxine was fiddling with her cell phone, which alarmed Myrtle even more than the cigarette had. Really, she needed to remove herself from this death trap of a vehicle as soon as possible.  She coughed to try to capture Maxine’s attention again.

Maxine finally put the phone down into a cup holder and glanced Myrtle’s way. “What was that again? Sorry. Did you say you had a bad day? What’s happened?”

What hadn’t happened? But Myrtle, considering the shortness of the drive said, “I discovered Rose Mayfield’s dead body this morning.”

“
What?
”  Maxine turned to look fully at Myrtle and turned the wheel of the cute car at the same time until they scraped the curb and Maxine corrected it. “Rose is dead? What happened?”

“Someone killed her in her own living room with her fireplace poker,” said Myrtle in her best what-a-shame voice.

“What is going on here?” asked Maxine under her breath. “Surely Bradley isn’t the setting for a serial killer of some kind. So, did Rose somehow know something about Naomi’s death?”

“That’s what I think,” said Myrtle simply, glad that Maxine had connected the dots and that she didn’t have to do it for her.

“Well, I suppose your son and those guys from the state police will be asking questions,” said Maxine. “I think they’ve finally come to the conclusion that I need to be considered as a possible suspect, because they checked in with me late yesterday about Naomi. When was it that Rose died? Hopefully, I have an alibi. Although I sincerely doubt it, since I live alone.”

“Same with me,” said Myrtle. “And it looks as if she died sometime early this morning.”

“Same with you?”  Maxine turned to grin at Myrtle as they pulled up in her driveway. “Surely you aren’t a suspect? Age has got to have
some
benefits, hasn’t it?”

“No, I guess I’m probably not a suspect.” Irritating, thought Myrtle. “But I did discover both bodies and I knew both women. For heaven’s sake, I
should
be a suspect.”

Maxine seemed to be mulling things over as she put the car in park and leaned back in the driver’s seat. “Let’s see. Early this morning. Nope!  I got nothin’. I was drinking coffee and reading my newspaper.”

“No one saw you go get your paper or anything?” asked Myrtle.

“Doubt it. The paper carrier slings my paper nearly to the front door. I barely stick my nose out to retrieve it.”

Myrtle frowned. “Well that’s rather irritating. I’m sure we have the same carrier. And I have to walk nearly to the street. I am frequently forced to talk to Erma Sherman right when the sun is coming up, and that’s a real pity let me assure you. I may have to leave a note for my newspaper carrier at the
Bradley Bugle
office the next time I’m there.”

Maxine grinned at Myrtle smugly. It made Myrtle think that Maxine had spent some time flirting with the newspaper carrier simply to produce that effect. Very annoying of the carrier.
Age before beauty
. That was the saying. Didn’t he know that?

“Maxine, could you tell me a little more about this issue you had with Naomi? It was over a love affair, wasn’t it?” asked Myrtle. Her voice was a bit brusque, which she hadn’t intended. It was all because of the news carrier.

Maxine lifted a well-shaped eyebrow. “Are you one of those gossipy old ladies, Miss Myrtle? I wouldn’t have thought that of you.”

“Let’s just say that I have a fondness for a good old-fashioned soap opera. Like
Tomorrow’s Promise
. Maybe that’s why I’m interested,” said Myrtle smoothly.

“Ah.
Tomorrow’s Promise
. Torrid romance and plenty of melodrama. How did you even know Naomi and I had fallen out over a love affair?” asked Maxine. “Did someone say something to you about it?”  She paused. “Claudia perhaps?”

Myrtle ignored the question. “So what happened, then? Did Naomi steal away some man you cared about?”

Maxine looked longingly at the pack of cigarettes on the center console. “Yes, she did. She didn’t merely steal away
one
man I cared about. It was a pattern of behavior for her. She would steal away
every
man I dated. She saw it as a sort of game I think. But the last time she did it she really stepped over the line. I was engaged you see, Miss Myrtle.”

Myrtle nodded. She’d thought it might be something like that.

“He was a fine man—handsome, funny. He had a truly wonderful job. I’d never have had to work a day more in my life. And Naomi didn’t care two figs for him. You could see those two were clearly unsuited. Naomi was fun-loving, impulsive. John was serious, thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful. And yet he threw over his fiancée for a fling?”  Myrtle frowned. There was something that didn’t seem right.

“It was a game for Naomi. She was bored. She had this amazing ability to morph into anything for anyone…she could get along with anyone if she’d wanted to. She could have even charmed Rose Mayfield into thinking she was wonderful. But Naomi would only turn on the charm when she had a real motive. Making me furious was a real motive. She saw me as her only real competition in town and made it a point of honor to ruin any relationship I had.” Maxine reached over for another cigarette. Then she paused in mid-air and reluctantly reeled in her hand.

“What ended up happening?” asked Myrtle. “To John, I mean. It didn’t seem to me that Naomi had a boyfriend when she died. And you’re—well ….”

“I’m alone,” finished Maxine dryly. “Yes. What happened to John is that he fell deeply in love with Naomi…or Naomi’s persona that she adopted. As soon as he’d ended our engagement, Naomi dropped him like a hot potato. After all, they had nothing in common.”

“And John?”

“He left town. Took off to practice law in Charlotte. Gone. Heartbroken. I know how he felt,” she said, the flippant voice gone, replaced with a bitter one.

“And now she’s dead. So no more competitions for lovers’ attention,” said Myrtle.

“She’s dead. Praise be,” said Maxine levelly. “But I had nothing to do with it. I’d have put my money on Rose. Now that Rose is dead, I’d have to pick Claudia for the killer.”

“Claudia?”  Myrtle still was having a hard time reconciling clumsy Claudia for a cold-blooded murderer.

“Sure. Why not? Haven’t you heard that still waters run deep? Oh, you’d
think
it would be me, right? I’ve got plenty of motive. I’m brassy enough to kill people with fireplace pokers and poisons. I’m more of the obvious choice, don’t you think?”

Myrtle quickly agreed with her since Maxine was making restless movements that meant Myrtle’s time in her car was running out. “You’re right. It’s probably someone who has a motive we haven’t even uncovered yet.”

“Judging from Naomi, the motives are likely legion,” drawled Maxine.

“Thanks for the ride,” said Myrtle, beaming her helpless old-lady smile at Maxine. “It’s been fun talking. I do hope we can talk again soon. Maybe at garden club? I really need to make a meeting since I’ve missed so very many. Have you gone to garden club the last couple of times?”

“I sure have,” said Maxine. “If only to stare daggers at Naomi.”

Myrtle was about to ask her about seating arrangements when Maxine said, “Do you need any help getting out, Miss Myrtle? I’ve got such a tiny car that it might be hard to extract yourself—and I know you’re ready to go in.”

Myrtle blinked at her in confusion.

“It’s two o’clock,” Maxine said smoothly. “Time for
Tomorrow’s Promise
.”

Myrtle did watch
Tomorrow’s Promise
. Mainly, she watched it to clear her brain. She had so many ideas and bits of clues and gossip floating around in her head that she felt she needed a break from it. Somehow, though, after listening to Maxine talk about her love triangle with Naomi, the soap opera seemed rather tame in comparison.

After the soap was over, she sat in her chair, thinking. Myrtle still wanted to talk with Lena, the vet, again—both about Rose’s death and also to ask her about Pasha again. She needed to check in with her about Rose’s death and where she was this morning. She also wanted to find out if she’d been to those two vitally important garden club meetings where
Destroying Angel
was first introduced to the group and then would most-likely have been dispensed to Naomi Pelter. And whether she’d spotted anyone deliberately changing seats to be next to Naomi.

But Myrtle also knew she had her limits. Lena’s office was a decent ways away—she’d need a ride. Miles was angry with her, which was unfortunate.

She suddenly realized that she’d left the sprinkler on since she’d left that morning to talk to Rose. Myrtle muttered something dire under her breath and hurried out to cut it off. Mud was everywhere and she’d wasted water. Shoot.

Myrtle carefully scraped the mud off her shoes on the mat and walked back inside just as the phone started ringing. “Hello?” asked Myrtle, as she picked it up.

“Myrtle? It’s Elaine.” Myrtle could hear an exhausted-sounding toddler wailing in the background.

“Elaine? How are you?” 

Elaine gave a short laugh. “Myrtle, that’s what I’ve called to ask
you
!  Red told me that you discovered Rose Mayfield’s body this morning. I was so sorry to hear it.”

“Because you liked Rose so much?” asked Myrtle, crinkling her brow. She couldn’t recall Elaine and Rose being particularly close. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Elaine even mention Rose’s name before.

“No, because I like
you
so much!  You have this habit of tripping over dead people. It must have scared you to death this morning,” said Elaine. She then heard Elaine saying to Jack, “Mama is on the phone, Jack!  Here’s your sippy cup. Is that what you wanted?”  Myrtle heard the sound of what she interpreted as the sippy cup hitting Elaine’s kitchen floor.

“It was a little scary, yes. Especially since Rose’s body was in the same spot that Naomi’s had been.”

“And Red said the murderer was still in Rose’s house! Terrifying.” The volume of the crying on Elaine’s end grew exponentially.

Elaine wouldn’t want to help her investigate—not with Red on the warpath the way he’d been about Myrtle snooping around in his cases. But she wouldn’t mind helping her find Pasha—after all, she’d been very helpful with the picture for the poster. She could tell Elaine that she needed to follow-up with Lena on the flyers she put out there.