A Body at Bunco (15 page)

Remembering the importance of appearing as if she were getting exercise, Myrtle picked up her pace as soon as she reached the sidewalk. Her cane thumped emphatically on the sidewalk as she went. As she walked, she considered a particular similarity between the two murders—the killer was fond of finding a murder weapon on site. It was, in a way, a crime of opportunity. Although, in Alma’s case, the killer had clearly broken into her house first to murder her. At Myrtle’s house, it really had been a crime of opportunity in every sense of the phrase…Luella happened to go outside, the killer happened to see a heavy wrench that Dusty had happened to forget. At Alma’s house, the killer had deliberately broken in before finding a heavy frying pan as a murder weapon.

Alma’s house was surrounded with crime scene tape. Myrtle saw that the state police were already showing signs of wrapping things up. She spotted a thin, pale man in his thirties standing nearby. His face was lined with exhaustion as he smoked and stared blankly at the house. Myrtle didn’t really know Alma’s son Robert, but she couldn’t imagine who else the man might be.

Myrtle had also had a lot of experience in small-town gossip. Although there may have been rumors about Alma’s son being dishonest, she would only keep it in the back of her mind and try not to let it overly influence her. Because she was about to ask him a lot of questions.

“Robert, isn’t it?” asked Myrtle as she walked up to him.

The thin man nodded and quickly put out his cigarette. “That’s right. I’m sorry … should I know you?”

“Probably not. I’m Myrtle Clover. I was an acquaintance of your mother’s; in fact, she came over to my house night-before-last. My son is the police chief and he told me what had happened before he came here. I’m so sorry about your mother.”

Robert nodded again and swallowed as if trying to keep any strong emotion at bay. “Thank you. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. It’s hard to process.”

Myrtle hesitated. “Red had mentioned that her death was suspicious. Is that correct?”

“That’s right. She…well, someone murdered her in her own bed. There was a cast iron skillet nearby that was clearly what was used.” He paused and looked as though he would really like another cigarette. “I don’t understand it. Who would have wanted to kill Mother?”

“I’m not sure, but I’d like to find out. I feel as if this particular murderer might even kill again. There’s something very brazen about this crime and the one that was committed earlier … one that appears to be linked to your mother’s death.” Myrtle cleared her throat and attempted to sound modest. “I’ve had some success in the past in solving mysteries that have baffled the police. Since your mother was an acquaintance of mine, I’d very much like to try to discover who might have done this.”

Whatever Robert might have done or not done in the past, and no matter how exhausted or shocked he might be, Myrtle could tell one thing—he certainly seemed intelligent. His clear blue eyes quickly evaluated Myrtle as well and he nodded slowly. “I see. Sort of a hobby for you, but one you’re good at, too. Maybe a friendly competition between you and your son.” He peered closer at Myrtle. “Maybe a
not
so friendly competition between you and your son. If it had been a different day and age when you were young, would you have become a police detective?”

Myrtle hadn’t really thought about that before. It certainly wouldn’t have been a possibility for her when she was a young woman in her twenties. “No, you know, I don’t think so. Working at it all day every day would make it work, wouldn’t it? And discouraging work, since human nature never seems to really improve. It’s better as a part-time job.”

Robert tilted his head very slightly to one side, regarding her thoughtfully. “So what did you do instead? Or did you stay at home?”

“I was a teacher. And teaching could be discouraging too, but not usually on a daily basis.”

Robert nodded again and then said, “I hope you find out who’s behind this. I rather like the idea of your solving the case instead of the police. Your son was kind to me, but the state police were brusque. They have a job to do, of course. But you actually knew Mother.” He ended with a small shrug and the exhaustion swept over his features again.

Myrtle glanced toward Alma’s house. She needed to talk to Robert before Red came out and shut her down.

Robert said, “Let’s see. First of all, you’ll need to eliminate me from your investigation, won’t you? Motive. I really haven’t got one. Mother didn’t have any money to hand down to me. Her land is mortgaged to the hilt. She has a lot of bills that are going to need to be sorted out. At the end of the process, I’ll be in worse financial shape than I was at the beginning.” He cleared his throat. “And Mother and I got along well. No arguments. We were very fond of each other.”

He continued briskly. “You’ll want to know where I was last night, too. An alibi. Fortunately for me (and I never thought I’d be saying those words), I was working my shift at the Stop-n-Shop convenience store. A camera was on me the entire time, as is usual at these types of businesses. The police will find, as you would if you could view the footage, that I was working the entire time.” He gave a smirk that seemed too sad to actually qualify at the sarcasm level a smirk requires.

Myrtle frowned. “I see. That makes it simple, doesn’t it? But I thought you were working in an office.”

“I was. I was let go for … performance reasons.” Robert was matter-of-fact. “That’s the usual excuse these days when an employer wants to let you go. There were rumors, you see, that I’d been defrauding my company. These rumors made my employer nervous, and they decided they didn’t need my services anymore.”

“But you hadn’t been defrauding them?” asked Myrtle.

“No. But, in this town, when suspicion rests on you, the rest of the town somehow makes false charges into truth. And then it’s spread around as gossip until everyone is clutching their pocketbooks when you pass them in the grocery aisle.” Robert rubbed at his temple with a thin hand.

Myrtle said quietly, “I’d heard these rumors, too. And I heard that your mother was defending you around town. In fact, I’d heard that the reason your mother was so upset with the first victim, Luella White, is because Luella was one of the people who was gossip mongering.”

Robert’s sharp gaze met hers. “And so Mother was one of the suspects in her death? If you’re asking me whether I think she was responsible … no, I can’t see her killing someone over something like my reputation. It would have annoyed her. She would have defended me. But she wouldn’t
kill
someone over it.”

Myrtle said, “Could you tell me what happened tonight? You discovered your mother, didn’t you?”

Robert took a deep breath. “I did. I was working my shift at the Stop-n-Shop. Mother always called me to tell me goodnight—even before I had this late-night job. She’d call and briefly tell me about her day and ask how I was doing. Then she’d wish me sweet dreams and that would be the end of the call.”

“I’m guessing that you didn’t get the phone call tonight,” said Myrtle.

“Exactly. And that’s what your son … Red, isn’t it? That’s what he was saying. He asked me if I figured that meant that the crime occurred at her usual bedtime of ten o’clock. But the problem is that after I lost my job at the accounting firm, I needed to switch my cell phone plan to a less expensive plan and give up my smartphone. I started using an old phone I had in a drawer—the kind with a slide-out keyboard. You know the kind?”

Myrtle did indeed. She’d only just stopped using one recently, herself. And she debated whether the smartphone she had was all that intelligent.

Robert continued, staring wearily at Alma’s house as he spoke. “I also changed my cell phone providers to go to a less-expensive place. I guess it was less expensive because it didn’t have enough cell phone towers to provide coverage in this area. Plus, this sliding phone not only didn’t have a data plan, but it never seemed as if it were working a hundred percent, either. It would notify me that I had received calls or text messages. Or I’d have a hard time getting a signal, as I mentioned. So I sometimes didn’t get her call.”

“What did you do the nights when you didn’t?” asked Myrtle. “Did she follow up by calling the store phone?”

“The manager didn’t want the store phone used for personal calls because he didn’t want the line busy if customers called. Not that they ever call,” said Robert with a scoffing laugh. “I’d not wanted to wake Mother by calling her back later, but something was bothering me. Something she’d said earlier in the day. Plus, she’d told me that I really never have to worry about waking her up because she’d been sleeping poorly.”

Myrtle nodded. “Actually, your mother mentioned to my friend Miles and me that she was exhausted from insomnia.”

“So I called her back when the convenience store was in between customers. At that point, it was probably two o’clock in the morning. No answer. So I tried again about thirty minutes later. No answer.”

“So you drove out here?” asked Myrtle.

“No. Unfortunately, I didn’t. My shift wasn’t over yet and there was no one to take over for me. I’ve really just started working there and didn’t feel as if I could lock the door and run off to my mother’s house to check in. So I waited.” He gave a frustrated sigh. “And now I’ll wonder, if I
had
come here, maybe I’d have interrupted the murderer and saved my mother’s life.”

Myrtle said quickly, “Or maybe you’d have startled the murderer on his way back out the door and been killed, yourself. There’s no sense in what-ifs.” They watched for a moment as the state police came outside, carrying equipment. Myrtle asked, “What was it that your mother said that bothered you so much?”

Robert sounded bemused. “I’d been telling her about the new job and how my feet were hurting for standing up so long. She told me that she was expecting some sort of windfall or other and insisted that she’d buy me a pair of new shoes. She sounded elated.”

Myrtle stared at him for a moment. Could this be blackmail money she was referring to as a windfall? “Did you have any idea what she meant by the windfall?”

“Absolutely none. Mother was poor as a pauper and it wasn’t as if she had any rich relations on their deathbeds. It was also just her general air of excitement. That wasn’t her general disposition at all. I kept thinking about it during my shift. I decided I’d quickly run by and check on Mother as soon as I was finished at work. When I did, she didn’t answer the door. But I have a key to her house, so I unlocked the door and walked in, calling her name. I found her in the bed. That cast iron skillet was next to her.” Robert blankly stared at the house, as if replaying the scene in his head.

“And no evidence of anyone in the house? No one was hiding out there?” asked Myrtle.

“I was so shocked by what I’d seen that the killer could still have been in the house and I never would have known it,” said Robert.

“Do you have any idea how the murderer would have gotten in?” asked Myrtle.

“It would have been a piece of cake,” said Robert. “Mother tried to cut down on her cooling bills by leaving windows open. She had them open morning and night—anyone could have easily gotten into the house. It did worry me sometimes, but Bradley has always seemed so
safe
.”

Small towns always did. But in a small town, feelings could run very high. It wasn’t so much the danger that you would be attacked by a stranger—it was the danger you’d be attacked by someone you know.

Myrtle said, “And this will seem like an odd question, but it ties into something your mother spoke to me about only yesterday. Did you happen to notice any fresh coffee in her house? Still in a bag, perhaps? On a counter? Something like that?”

Robert frowned. “Mother wasn’t much of a coffee drinker. She might have some in the house if she were expecting guests, but she wouldn’t stock it for herself.”

“Not a nice Colombian or Sumatra coffee?” asked Myrtle.

“Most certainly
not
a nice Colombian or Sumatra. It would be more along the lines of a Sanka or some other instant coffee.”

“So she wasn’t one … say … to frequent coffeehouses?” asked Myrtle.

“Mother would have considered that a waste of money,” said Robert.

Myrtle had been keeping a watchful eye on Alma’s house and now saw Red walking out the front door with Lieutenant Perkins. Her time was short now. Actually, she would prefer not to be spotted by Red or Perkins at all. Best to avoid questions when possible. She asked Robert quickly, “One more thing. While you were in there, I know you received such a horrible shock that you might not have noticed anything. But did you? Did you notice anything that struck you as strange or out of place at all?”

Robert hesitated. “There was one thing. It might be nothing. But there was an earring on Mother’s bed.”

“An earring? But it wasn’t your Mother’s? Or didn’t seem to be something she’d wear?”

“It definitely wasn’t something she’d wear. Mother didn’t have pierced ears.”

Chapter Twelve

Myrtle was able to slip away and walk fairly briskly back toward her house before Red realized she was there. She had lots to think about and it was just as well that she didn’t have to have a battle of wits or wills with Red. It was all bouncing around in her head, wanting to come out. The mention of an earring had reminded her that Mimsy had mentioned losing one at Bunco. Could the two be connected somehow? Ordinarily, she’d discuss her findings with her trusty sidekick. But, said trusty sidekick had been felled by a virus.

Myrtle was about to pass Miles’s house when she hesitated. Perhaps he was in need of more help. Perhaps he even needed an appointment at his doctor’s office and a ride in the car there. Myrtle walked up to Miles’s front door and peered in the side window again. This time she didn’t see him slumped in the recliner as she had before. She removed her key from her pocketbook once more and unlocked the door.

“Yoo-hoo!” she called out cautiously. Myrtle certainly didn’t want to suffer any embarrassing encounters of Miles in some stage of undress. “Miles! It’s Myrtle. I’m checking up on you.”