Death of a Suitor #18

Chapter Seven

Myrtle was just finishing up her crossword when her own doorbell rang.

"Hi there," she said cheerily to Miles. He was holding a tote bag and had a rather grim expression.

He carefully carried the tote bag to the kitchen as Myrtle followed behind him, a smile tugging at her lips. Miles unpacked Sherry's blueberry pound cake loaf, a plate of cookies, lemon bars, crustless pimento cheese sandwiches, and a casserole.

"Gracious, what a lot of goodies," said Myrtle, rubbing her hands together. "Are you sharing?"

"Of course I am. There's no way a person living on their own could be expected to eat this much food before it went bad. But I'd like to hear an explanation for this unprecedented generosity by our fellow book club members."

Myrtle took down a couple of plates from her cabinets. "They didn't tell you why they were bringing food?"

"Apparently, they were trying to be sensitive," said Miles unhappily. "They were tiptoeing around the subject. I figured that you either told them I'd lost a close relative, or that you had somehow exaggerated my breakup with Eloise."

Myrtle used a knife to cut up the pound cake loaf. "Oh, they wanted to believe you had a broken heart. I was about to tell them that you were the one who broke up with her. But it made you sound rather unchivalrous."

"You were the one who encouraged me to do it!"

"Yes, but it was a tale that was going to suffer in the retelling. It sounded so much better to just give them what they wanted to hear. . . that poor Miles had been dumped by the ruthless Eloise and had his heart broken in two."

Miles closed his eyes. "Oh no."

"You know how they don't get the point of things. Themes, symbolism, anything that requires intuition completely bypasses these women during book club. So they thought the signs on the gnomes meant something specific to Eloise."

Miles, who still had his eyes closed, gave a groan like someone who was in deep pain. Perhaps appendicitis-level pain.

Then he opened his eyes. "About those gnomes. I think the signs can go, Myrtle. I appreciate the point you were trying to make, though. I'm sure Red has already gotten it by now."

"Well, it's completely ridiculous that he would consider you a murderer. The absurdity! He's completely wasting his time by investigating you when he should be hunting down the actual perpetrator."

Miles shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think he is doing that? Investigating me?"

Myrtle shrugged. "How do I know? He never tells me anything."

They spent the next few moments happily eating pound cake and sipping at their coffee.

"What are you doing today?" asked Miles curiously.

Myrtle waggled her fingers at him. "I'm getting my nails done."

"Well, that sounds like a remarkable thing to have on your agenda for the day. I don't recall you caring very much about manicures."

Myrtle snorted. "I don't. But I figured it might be an excellent way to speak with Nicole Jackson."

Miles's face reflected surprise before he beamed at her. "Myrtle, I think that's an excellent idea. Well done."

"You don't have to sound so surprised about it. You know I do like to speak to all my suspects and Nicole definitely qualifies as a suspect. She wanted her father to sell his property on the lake. She apparently needs money. It stands to reason that she's a good suspect."