A Body at Bunco (25 page)

“Besides,” said Myrtle, “I suppose you’re her alibi, aren’t you? Since Alma’s murder happened so late at night.”

John said, “Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m just sort of a character witness. I think that’s one reason why the police are still considering Mimsy a suspect—because I was out of town that night. I was interviewing for a job position. Mimsy thinks someone might be trying to set her up … between Mimsy’s earring planted at the crime scene and the fact that I wasn’t at home to provide her with an alibi. It’s almost like someone planned it that way.”

Miles eyes widened in alarm as John Kessler pulled a serving spoon out of a drawer, uncovered the casserole, and scooped out a large portion onto a plate.

“Oh, are you considering a position out of town?” asked Myrtle.

John got a fork out of the drawer. “I’m considering any position, anywhere. Management jobs aren’t easy to find and I was downsized some time ago.” He gestured to the casserole. “Won’t the two of you join us? I can set the table and we can all enjoy this.”

Miles made a strangled sound. Myrtle scowled at him and then said politely to John, “Thanks, but we brought it for you. Miles isn’t completely a hundred-percent well yet.”

Miles, as a matter of fact was starting to look as if his health were rapidly regressing. He was pale and rather haggard looking as he stared at John’s plate in horrified fascination.

Myrtle gave him an irritated look. “For heaven’s sake, sit down, Miles. You’re starting to look like Frankenstein’s monster.”

Miles sank into a chair.

John put a substantial forkful of casserole in his mouth and then stopped short. He shifted the food around in his mouth, eyes growing bigger. Then he grabbed a nearby water bottle, unscrewed the top, and quickly washed down the food with a large amount of water.

It was then that Mimsy returned. “Sorry about that. Oh, John, did you start supper without me? Did you ask our guests if they wanted to join us?” She moved over to the cabinets to pull a plate out.

John said quickly, “I did ask, but they can’t join us. And Mimsy, I’m not as hungry as I thought. I … ah, I think I’ll enjoy this sometime later. Whenever you eat.”

“I’m about to eat right now,” said Mimsy, looking at John in surprise. “That’s why I’m getting a plate out.”

John said, “But you won’t be able to eat this darling.” He seemed to be trying to communicate something to Mimsy with his eyes, but she didn’t appear to be picking up on it.

“Why ever not?”

“Don’t you want to wait and eat until after our guests have gone?” John’s voice had a note of pleading in it.

“I don’t think they mind. I’m hungrier than I thought I was. It’s been a busy day,” said Mimsy.

Myrtle said, “Of course we don’t mind.”

John said urgently, “But Mimsy, you should really eat something else. Miss Myrtle was kind to bring food, but she didn’t know about your food allergies.”

Mimsy put her hands on her hips. “
What
food allergies?”

Miles made a sound that might have been a muffled, hysterical laugh.

John said slowly, “To…lima beans.”

“Lima beans! No one’s allergic to lima beans, silly.” Mimsy gave her husband an affectionate smile.

Miles said, “Perhaps it
would
be better if you wait. My stomach is still sort of upset and who knows what the sight and sound of food might do to me.”

Myrtle again studied him suspiciously. But indeed, Miles didn’t appear at all well.

Mimsy seemed confused but obediently put down the plate. She abruptly changed the subject. “Myrtle, tell me what you’ve heard about the investigation. Does Red have any leads?”

“Unfortunately, my son is strangely opposed to sharing information about cases with me. It’s a tendency I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to break him of.”

Mimsy’s face, which had been hopeful, fell. “Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that. Not that I wish anything bad on someone else, but whoever is responsible for these terrible crimes does need to be brought to justice. And I’ve been so frightened by the attention on me. As a suspect.”

Myrtle said, “It hasn’t settled down, then? The attention on you?”

“Unfortunately not. It’s because of that silly earring.” Mimsy looked baffled. “I can’t for the life of me figure out how one of my earrings ended up over at poor Alma’s house.”

Miles cleared his throat. “John was saying that you helped Alma out quite a bit. Alma always seemed a bit proud to me. You never had any problems getting her to accept your produce?”

“At first she resisted. But then I kept telling her that we had so
much
produce that we were going to have to throw it away and that John and I hated doing that. That made her accept it a lot easier. It was as if
she
were doing
us
a favor.”

“Maybe your earring fell out while you were helping her? Don’t you think during one of those visits to Alma’s house that you might have had an earring fall out?” asked Myrtle.

“It
could
have happened. But it
didn’t
happen. That’s because I know when I lost that earring. It was the night of the Bunco party, Miss Myrtle,” said Mimsy.

Myrtle and Miles stared at each other and at Mimsy. It sounded as if someone were trying to set Mimsy up. Perhaps the hapless Poppy?

“So this is the same earring that you’d mentioned earlier was missing? While you were at my house?” asked Myrtle.

Mimsy said, “That’s right. I mentioned it in passing at Bunco, but naturally, it was overshadowed by the tragic events that night. I was so upset when we learned of Luella’s death that I immediately forgot about my earring.”

Miles looked confused. “So … the earring fell out? They do that?”

John said, “Exactly what I’d been wondering, Miles.”

“They can fall out. This particular set of earrings is bad about falling out. And that earring didn’t have a back on it,” said Mimsy. “Anyway, I’d noticed it was missing fairly early on. But I didn’t have a chance to look for it because it was then that you’d found Luella, Miss Myrtle.”

Myrtle said, “So anyone seeing your earring at the party could have quickly put it in their pocket for later.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then Mimsy said sadly, “Yes, I suppose that’s true. They’d have to have been thinking ahead, of course. They’d have to plan to use the earring to make me look guilty. And how would they have known that they would need to murder Alma?”

John said, “Unless murdering Alma was part of the plan all along.”

“I can’t imagine that it was,” said Myrtle thoughtfully. “No, I think someone saw an opportunity and grabbed it. The earring represented a sort of insurance policy, maybe. Against any future problems.”

Mimsy slumped. She looked so devastated by the thought that Miles quickly came to the rescue with another change of subject. “Mimsy, it was very kind of you to help Alma out. I’m sure she must have really appreciated it.”

“I think she did. That’s not why I did it, of course. But there’s so much need, even in a small community like ours,” said Mimsy.

John said, “Sort of like with Estelle, right? Aren’t you trying to give her a hand? Although perhaps
we’re
the ones who need a hand,” he muttered.

Mimsy hesitated. “Well, I hate to bring up things like that because I don’t want Estelle to be talked about. I know she’d hate that. But I know Miss Myrtle and Miles won’t say anything.” It was more of a question than a statement.

Myrtle made a zipping motion over her mouth. “My lips are sealed,” she said.

Miles nodded in agreement.

“Well, I saw Estelle at the Piggly Wiggly grocery store customer service desk, filling out a long sheet of paper. And sort of dressed up,” said Mimsy.

“Dressed up? Estelle?” asked Myrtle. Estelle hadn’t even dressed up for the funeral that day.

“Sort of. In a skirt, at any rate. She must have seen me and been embarrassed or something because she turned away a little more. I went over to talk to her, though,” said Mimsy.

“Was she filling out an application for employment?” asked Miles.

“She was. She said that she wasn’t getting any traction with the storm chasing. Estelle said it was her one true love, but that a combination of things, starting with being turned down for the bank loan, meant that she could no longer do it full time. She was trying to get hours at the grocery store so that maybe she could still do some storm chasing on the side. But she said it would be tough because the whole point was that she had to
chase
the storms … going out of town long distances and gas was expensive.” Mimsy shook her head.

Myrtle and Miles shared a look. Estelle certainly hadn’t seemed to be swimming in money when they’d visited her.

John said, “So Mimsy is now putting Estelle on the free-produce list since Alma no longer needs to take advantage of it.”

“Very, very sweet of you,” said Myrtle. She paused. What she wanted now were Mimsy’s thoughts on Poppy and whether Poppy could possibly be resentful enough of Mimsy’s success that she’d actually set her friend up. But she had a feeling that Mimsy might be protective of her friend. “I did have one question for you, Mimsy. It was about Poppy, actually.”

John snorted and Mimsy gave him a reproachful look. “What about Poppy, Miss Myrtle?” she asked.

John jumped in. “I’m sorry for my reaction. Poppy can be very … sweet.”

“It was nice of her to bring us food from the diner,” reminded Mimsy, loyally.

“That’s very true. The only problem I have, and don’t pretend you don’t see it too, Mimsy, is that Poppy is clearly very envious of our lives. She doesn’t see that we have struggles, too … she only sees what she wants to see.”

Mimsy looked down at her shoes. “I suppose that’s true. She never used to seem so … well, envious. I know she’s having such a hard time, though. So
many
people are. I guess she really can’t help it.”

Myrtle carefully asked, “But do you think that Poppy
might
have acted out of jealousy? Could she possibly have taken your earring and left it at Alma’s house?”

Mimsy looked shocked, mouth dropping open. “She couldn’t. Not Poppy.” But her eyes displayed doubt.

“And now, I really think Myrtle and I should leave so that you two can eat,” said Miles, staring rather anxiously at the casserole dish still sitting ominously on the countertop.

“Thanks again, y’all,” said Mimsy. Then she snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot. Tippy Chambers ran by right before you came. She was dropping by a frozen casserole, but she also mentioned that there was a new campaign afoot. She’d seen something on Facebook about the newspaper and got the brainchild to help try to get it back on track. Tippy is putting posters up with #SavetheBugle on them around town and she’s started a Facebook page for people to say something supportive or scan in their favorite
Bradley Bugle
stories … you know … the ones they clipped and stuck in a scrapbook or something.”

“Is that so?” asked Myrtle, beaming.

“I figured you should know, since you’ve been so involved with the newspaper,” said Mimsy. She continued in a musing voice, “I’m planning on putting some posters out tomorrow. And I hope it helps. I can’t handle any more stories about celebrities and aliens.”

Miles and Myrtle were quiet on their walk back. The only sound was of Miles’s intermittent yawns.

He apologized after the last one. “I think I’ve probably done too much today.”

Myrtle nodded. “It’s easy to overdo it when you’re coming off an illness. You’re wanting to get back into the swing of things, but you need to ease into it more.” She paused. “How did Puddin do? With the housecleaning today?”

Miles gave Myrtle a sidelong glance. “My house is spotless.”

Myrtle gritted her teeth. “That Puddin. Whenever she cleans anyone
else
’s house, she always does a better job.”

“Maybe it’s because no one was there,” said Miles. “She wasn’t distracted and she wasn’t tempted to talk. She just got to it and finished her work.”

“I’d like to think that’s the case. But the last time I left her a key and allowed her to clean while I wasn’t home, I returned to a messy house and Puddin on my sofa with a lemonade watching
Tomorrow’s Promise
,” said Myrtle.

“One day, I’ve often thought, I’m going to be investigating the case of a murdered Puddin,” murmured Miles.

“If it weren’t that she and Dusty were a package deal, I’d get rid of her for sure,” said Myrtle fervently. “By now I know a little something about murder.”

The next morning, Myrtle was up very early. She’d like to have said that she was up early to take on her day and formulate a plan of attack for the case, but the truth was that she had completely run out of laundry. It seemed that every time in the last few days that she had gotten a load together, Elaine had apologetically shown up with either Red’s uniform or some of little Jack’s soiled outfits. Naturally, Myrtle had insisted that Elaine should go first. Then, Myrtle had promptly forgotten about her own clothes by the time the washer and dryer were free.

So now, she was down to a rather disreputable looking nightgown with a torn seam and a tracksuit that a Red had inexplicably given her for the previous Christmas. The tracksuit was made from some sort of nylon material and was an unflattering shade of pink. Myrtle rarely wore pink anyway, finding that people were even more inclined to treat her like an infant when she wore it. If she did wear pink, it was the very lightest of shades … more white with a trace of pink.

Myrtle had been able to grimace a smile and pretend to be pleased when she’d opened the present. Elaine had just winced, but not said a word since she was simply happy not to have to do Red’s Christmas shopping for him. Red, probably to be even more annoying, had continued to ask her when she was going to wear her tracksuit.

“I’m saving it for a special occasion,” she’d told him.

“But Mama, it’s supposed to be an
everyday
garment. It’s easy-care and easy-wear. That’s what the clerk at the store told me. And you won’t believe what I bought it for. It was a real steal.”

“Is that right?” asked Myrtle. She could only imagine. Perhaps the store had even paid Red to take it off their hands.