A Body in the Backyard (17 page)

“Oh, they knew Peggy was pregnant, all right,” said Silas with a short laugh. “But they thought it was Jim Neighbors’ baby. Remember how she used to be married to him?”

Myrtle nodded slowly. “She got divorced ages ago, didn’t she?”

“A couple of years after they married. The baby was just two. Jim had always had a fondness for Peggy, and Lee sweetened the pot by offering him a job doing repairs and light contracting with him,” said Silas.

“I see. That would have avoided a big scandal here in Bradley, for sure,” said Myrtle.

“The funny thing,” said Silas, “is that Peggy never forgot Charles. She still loved him, after all that, according to her dad.” He stopped and sighed. “That part actually maybe I do understand. I still love Annette, too, no matter if she has been running around on me. Apparently, Peggy tried to get back together with Charles as soon as he showed back up here in town.”

The poor, confused thing. How could she not see the kind of man Charles was?

“Lee told me that he strung her along again, same as last time. Then Peggy started hearing that Charles was seeing Annette. And probably some other women, too. She was totally devastated. Peggy finally told him the truth, too—that her daughter, now almost eighteen, was his,” said Silas.

Myrtle leaned forward more on her cane. Her feet, never very cooperative, were starting to actively hurt now, but she ignored it and hung on to Silas’s every word.

“Miss Myrtle, you should have seen old Lee’s face when he was telling me this story. It was red as all get-out. Don’t know if he was more mad, or frustrated, or about to cry. Lee told me that Charles laughed when Peggy told him about his daughter. Then he scoffed about it—saying that he didn’t believe her. Apparently, Peggy ran off back home and cried her eyes out,” said Silas, shaking his head. “That Charles sure was some character. Red’s going to have quite a time figuring out who did it. Half the town wanted Charles dead.

Myrtle closed the van door and buckled up as Elaine started driving her back home. “I take it Silas didn’t claim the hideous handbag,” she noted drily. Jack was talking to himself in the backseat and Myrtle turned to smile at him.

“No, he sure didn’t. But he did tell me why Lee hated Charles Clayborne. It had a whole lot to do with his daughter Peggy and not much to do with cheating at poker.” Myrtle filled Elaine in on the way home. “I can’t imagine that Lee would have wanted Charles to get back together with his daughter—but I bet he wanted him to put some money up to support her college tuition or other care.”

“Wow,” said Elaine finally. “And people think that nothing happens in small towns.”

“The whole parade of human drama happens in small towns,” said Myrtle. “It just happens on a small scale, that’s all.”

“So what I’m getting from this tale of woe,” said Elaine slowly, “is that Peggy definitely had a motive to kill Charles. She’d put her heart and soul into loving him and she was coldly and cruelly rejected; not once, but twice.”

“Revenge is surely a powerful motivator,” said Myrtle. “Don’t forget about her father, either. Lee Woosley was plenty mad at Charles Clayborne. How much can a father really take before he starts taking it out on the guy who’s at the bottom of the mess?”

 “But if he killed Charles, then who killed Lee?”

“What if Peggy did it out of anger?  What if, no matter how irrationally, she was still crazy about Charles?  She might have struck out against her father for killing the man she loved so much,” said Myrtle.

Elaine sighed. “I guess so. It just seems very far-fetched to me.”

“I’m amazed at just how often life resembles my soap opera.
Tomorrow’s Promise
really hits the nail on the head sometimes. It’s more like watching a documentary than a daytime drama.”

“Uh-oh,” said Elaine as they pulled up to Myrtle’s driveway. “Looks like you’ve got some company.”

Chapter Fourteen

Myrtle noticed with horror that Erma Sherman was standing on her front step. Erma grinned and waved as the van drove up the drive.

“Now how am I going to escape that?” moaned Myrtle. “Why can’t the woman remember that she lives
next
door
and that she needs to stay over there?  All she does is pester me.”

“Just tell her you’ve had a big day shopping with me and Jack and you need to go in and put your feet up and close your eyes for a while,” said Elaine in a sympathetic voice. “She should understand that.”

But it took a lot for Myrtle to admit to someone, even falsely, that she was tired out. She liked to present a picture to the world of strength and heartiness. “Of all the neighbors in the world, I had to get
her
.”

“She’s my neighbor too,” said Elaine. She chuckled. “For some reason Red and I aren’t on Erma’s radar at all. She’d prefer to bother you.”

“That’s because she doesn’t like children. Or animals,” said Myrtle, glancing around. Where was that Pasha when she needed her?  The cat was the one protection she had against that woman.

“I thought she was always feeding the birds and stuff like that.”

“The squirrels. Erma Sherman feeds the squirrels. And that right there should show how squirrelly
she
is,” said Myrtle. She reluctantly opened the car door and stepped outside. “Wish me luck.”

There was just no point avoiding the inevitable. Erma Sherman was bound and determined to have some kind of visit with her, and by golly, that’s what she was going to get. If Myrtle caved in, then maybe Erma would leave her alone for a while. Besides, standing at the ill-mannered Silas’s door for such a long time (hadn’t the man realized she was
old
?) meant that she was ready to sit for a while with her feet up—even if it meant she had to suffer through a chat with Erma. Maybe she should pull that burned-up ham out of the fridge and offer Erma a sandwich. That might scare her off from visiting for a while.

As she walked down the front walk, Erma said in a hurry, “I know you’ve got to run Myrtle, but I needed to tell you something. You’re always in such a rush! Don’t you think you’re going to fall down and break a hip or something?  Moving slower is better.”

Myrtle resisted the urge to shoot her a sour look for the unasked-for advice. But she was being good, no matter how torturous it was. She hoped she was winning a few points for this from the big guy upstairs.

Erma’s mouth dropped open in complete shock as Myrtle fished her keys out from her pocketbook, opened the door and motioned her inside. “It’s such a warm day today, Erma. Why don’t you come inside and tell me what’s on your mind.”

Erma trotted in before Myrtle could change her mind. As Myrtle closed the front door behind her, she glimpsed Elaine across the street, looking her way in shock. Elaine would likely be checking back in with her later to make sure she hadn’t suffered a small stroke.

Once Myrtle sat down, she had a feeling that she wasn’t going to be getting back up again for a while. “Erma, just hold that thought and give me a few minutes to get settled.” She definitely wanted to make a quick visit to the bathroom—she’d been gone for a long while, after all—then pour them both some iced tea and get them out a small snack. Erma, from what she remembered, could be a fairly demanding visitor and it would irritate the stew out of Myrtle to keep having to jump up from her chair like a jumping jack.

She returned a few minutes later with a tray holding a plastic pitcher of sweet tea, two tall glasses, and a plate with cheese and crackers on it. Myrtle noticed wryly that Erma didn’t leap up to help her carry in the tray, despite the fact that Myrtle was holding the tray with one arm and her cane with the other. Typical Erma.

But, since she was determined to make this visit stick and count as a
real visit
, she hid her irritation. At least, she attempted to.

Erma was already blabbing on about some horrible medical problem she was having with her skin that was making Myrtle lose whatever appetite she had. Myrtle decided that she was going to have to interrupt Erma, or else terminate the visit. She was about to cut her off with a quick retort, but bit her lip and took in a deep breath.

Myrtle mildly said, “Erma, hate to interrupt you, but before I forget—you know how memory is with older adults—I think you mentioned you wanted to tell me something?  I thought it might be something about the case.”

Clearly, though, there was a reason why she’d never used this kinder, gentler tack with Erma in the years she’d known her. That’s because, Erma bulldozed over ‘kind and gentle’ like they didn’t even exist.

“So that was my day at the dermatologist,” she said. “But it wasn’t over then! Next, I had to go to the dentist. Can you believe it?  The dentist!” Erma grinned at her and Myrtle decided that she could certainly believe it. Erma’s teeth were not in the best of shape. And Erma’s breath had an unfortunate hint of gingivitis about it.

The dentist! And Erma’s favorite activity besides hunting down and torturing Myrtle, was flirting with men. No matter how hopeless that flirting might be.  She must, absolutely
must
, be one of Dr. Bass’s patients.

“Do you go to Dr. Bass?” asked Myrtle quickly, while Erma was taking in a quick breath.

She beamed. “I do! I do go to Dr. Bass. And he and I are very good friends, too,” Erma said proudly.

This sounded very much like one of Erma’s chronic delusions. Myrtle very much hoped that just a fraction of that statement was true, and that maybe Erma could at least tell her who Dr. Bass’s friends actually
were
.

“So you see Dr. Bass outside of the dental office?” asked Myrtle.

Erma was reluctant to answer this. Finally, she said, “Well, we would, except that Dr. Bass’s business takes up so much of his time. Especially since he’s the only dentist in town. But I’ve mentioned to him before that I would love to go to the movies, or out to eat with him whenever he had a break in his busy schedule.”

Myrtle was sure the dentist took that under advisement and stayed as busy as he possibly could.

“He has this huge house on the lake,” said Erma, her eyes lighting up. “It’s right on the opposite side of the lake from us. And he has a couple of boats—a bigger one and a little one. I’ve seen him out on them when I’ve been out boating.”

If you could
call
what Erma did
boating
. She had an ancient pontoon boat.

“But of course we see a lot of each other because of my dental visits. I have a lot of dental visits because of these problems I keep having with my teeth,” said Erma.

Before Erma could spin off into another revolting health-related discussion, Myrtle quickly broke in.

“You know, I was talking with someone the other day about Dr. Bass. I don’t think I’ve really ever noticed the man hanging out around Bradley. Oh, I might have seen him getting food at the grocery store or something, but that’s about it. But someone mentioned that he had a friend—a male friend,” said Myrtle quickly, since Erma would have denied that Dr. Bass had any female friends other than herself. “Do you know who that might be?”

Erma puffed up with pride. This time Myrtle thought that maybe she did actually know something.

“That would have to be Dr. Bass’s friend from high school.” Erma leaned in so much to tell gossip that she looked like she might break in half. “He’s a very handsome man—a barber. You probably know him.”

“Except that I don’t go to barbers for haircuts,” said Myrtle pointedly.

“You must have noticed him around town, anyway. He’s a fine dresser—wears pink ties to his barbershop and always a lot of cologne. I love seeing him when I’m out at the store or post office or something. He smells delicious and he always winks at me!” Erma giggled. If Myrtle was to believe Erma, then she had a beau in every port.

“So they’re still friends then,” said Myrtle. “I wonder if Dr. Bass confides much in this fellow. What’s his name?”

“Buddy Fenton. His shop isn’t on the square in downtown—it’s farther out,” said Erma.

“Very interesting,” said Myrtle. She hesitated. Erma had wanted to see her to tell her something. Although it was something that Myrtle probably didn’t care about hearing, if she didn’t tell Myrtle, then she was going to continue trying to talk to her until she did. Myrtle sighed. “Erma, wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me about?”

Erma squinted up her rodent-like features and studied Myrtle’s ceiling in thought. “Yes, there was. Let’s see. It wasn’t about my dermatology appointment, although I talked about that. It wasn’t about my dentist appointment, although we talked about that, too.” She winked at Myrtle, giving her the horrible impression that she was going to spread news of Myrtle’s fascination with Dr. Bass all over town.

“Let’s see. It had something to do with the murder I’m sure. And I wanted to tell you because you always snoop around for the paper. Think, Erma! Think!” Erma put her hands on both sides of her head and pushed, as if she could squeeze the memory out of her brain.

Erma snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! It was the morning that Lee was murdered in your yard. Before we all went to the funeral. I had the feeling that someone was watching our houses from the bushes near the lake. Of course, it was probably Miles, since he must have killed Charles.”

Both Erma and Myrtle’s yards sloped down from a level, grassy yard (or weedy yard, if you were talking about Erma’s) through a wooded area down to the lake. Myrtle had an old dock down there and a boat. It wasn’t actually her boat anymore—she’d not wanted the bother of upkeep anymore and had handed the keys over to Red.

Myrtle waited for Erma to say something more newsworthy—that she had seen a man dressed all in black, or that she’d noticed footprints behind the azalea bushes near the lake—something meatier than a funny feeling. But this was all Erma apparently had.

Myrtle cleared her throat. “Duly noted. Thanks, Erma.”

Yes, Erma had been unexpectedly helpful. Who’d have thought?  But of course, she was still going to need to formulate a plan so that Erma didn’t keep visiting with her. This visit, for instance, had been entirely too pleasant. Erma would likely be eager to repeat it.